I got home to a birthday card for, “A sweet seven-year-old” with Strawberry Shortcake stickers. I guess it is my unbirthday!

Duck Boy can stay. I am extremely impressed.

soooooooooooooooooooo cute!!!!!!!!!!!!1

on the radar…

In Ireland. Having a blast. Guess what…. Sooooo over Tom. Yeah. I’m really really really ok with being broken up with him. I had no idea it would be this easy emotionally. I’m just done. Wow. When did that happen?

I have a huge bunch of stuff written out so far, but the network blows and I can’t get my laptop to connect and so it is going to wait until I am online on my machine.

Safe to say- having a blast. Wish you were here. *smooch*

I leave for the airport in two hours.

It occured to me, while sitting in the bathtub, that this is going to be ok.

Tom and I made the transition from M/s back to equals and still had a good relationship. This is just one more transition. It will be good. That was significantly traumatic. This is as well, but… we can handle it.

I have clothes (from the skin out: jammies, underwear, socks, shirts, sweaters, pants, long johns),
toiletries (shampoo, conditioner, q-tips, face wash, body wash, lotion, meds, toothpaste, hair stuff, moist towel things…..ohhh!! find toothbrush!),
extra shoes,
the boys,
stuff for being an icki girl,
warm hat/gloves/scarf,
cords for computer,
camera,
mp3 player,
knitting,
guide books,
writing book,
2 fiction books,

what am I forgetting?

I make a big deal out of not having secrets. I talk about it. I emphasize it. Yet… I like my lj because it has filters. Why? Am I a hypocrite?

I hide things too. I haven’t told anyone that I have been cutting a lot lately. I am remarkably good at hiding it. I have years of practice.

I have been hurting myself in a myriad of ways lately. I’m not coping with life well.

I had a long chat with my brother yesterday. He said he cares about me. He told me things that I have wanted my big brother to tell me for my entire life. It was really hard and scary to tell him about trying drugs. It was scary to tell him how much I have been drinking. It was hard to tell him that I am cutting again. I told him how suicidal I am. He told me how suicidal he still is; even with how wonderful his life is–he still wants to die. We discussed how fucked up our parents made us. I found out that he doesn’t know much about the sexual abuse I went through. I heard some of the stories that our father told him about me. Really fucked up.

I’m scared to talk about the things that go through my head. But if I am going to be so fucking sanctimonious about secrets, maybe I shouldn’t have any.

Now I need to freakin finish packing.

http://www.extraugly.com/

Shop here.

I know a certain Rocket Scientist who might be getting a late Christmas present as soon as I get my damn check. http://www.extraugly.com/shirt.php?design=0029

Want: http://www.extraugly.com/shirt.php?design=0051

Will have soon. 🙂

Not that I exactly need more profane t-shirts…

No, not the website. Though from the same idea the website sprang. Tonight I went to a munch. I went to the Liquid Munch specifically. It is held in a bar in SF. I had a truly awesome time. I got to talk to people who have known me for years. Most of the conversations were, “I remember when…” and I knew the stories. I was at those parties! I knew these people way back when! I felt like part of something.

I need to get back into doing scene events. That has been my home turf for a long time. It’s where I belong. It is the place where I talk about wanting to be beaten bloody and people don’t get horrifed, they get dreamy! I’m not a freak there. I am just me. They have read my stupid angst filled processy emails for years and given me advice and guidance. They have encouraged me.

My friends. My tribe. It was so good to feel secure for just those few hours.

And the hot girls playing with me didn’t suck either.

So I’m being weird about Tom having fun. I’ve been trying to figure out why.

Something that occured to me is that when I left Tom I left practically everything that has been my life for the past four years. Everyone I’m spending time with are people that I haven’t known very long. They are not the people whom I have shared most everything with for a long time. Tom is bringing his new girl into that circle. I don’t know how to stay in it and not feel sad. I don’t even have anyone who would want to join me in that circle. Instead I am trying like mad to forge entirely new support with nothing to build on. It is really hard.

I’m not devaluing any of the new friends I have. You are all good people. But you just haven’t been around that long. Seeing pictures of Tom enjoying a party I have been a part of for years but I wasn’t invited to this year… that hurt. Yes. I had a fun NYE. I’m not claiming I didn’t. But I feel like I’m having fun in someone else’s life. Cause I’m not in my life anymore.

And you, yes you—with the clue by four. Put it down please. I don’t want to feel it.

I leave for Ireland in three days.

Ok.

I can do this. And I can do it with a fucking smile on my face.

That is what the crowd was screaming last night as I stood on stage and audaciously held up my fist full of resolution cards. I had 14 in my hand. That means I helped 14 people break their resolutions. (Not really.) The next runner up had three. No wonder by the end of the night people were grabbing my hand and just running off with me to do dirty things! They thought I was the party slut!!!!

(Ok, so in truth I didn’t actually earn all of them. A friend gave me one for playing with his camera {he wanted to help me make sure I won} and someone gave me a card for seducing him, but I only chastely kissed him on the cheek {he has promised me a game of wink in the future}, and the girl I was supposed to have sex with I really only kissed and played with her breasts {her boyfriend was going down on her so I think she figured that it was me being involved in them having sex}, and someone else decided to just hand me the card she had earned {for giving someone a blow job}. So yeah. I really only earned 10. It was hella fun though. And I didn’t take my clothes off to win a single card. Mostly I just kissed people and rubbed them suggestively.

It was totally a blast!!! *giggle* I’ve never done anything like that before… Heh. hmmmm yay.

Yeah. A really tame and boring party. I got no attention at all. *yawn*

2004

So I’m going to the FNW NYE ball and then running off to… http://www.clubslick.com/debaucherama

So… clothing is an interesting choice. I have no real idea what I’m going to wear. hmmm

Any input?

Oh: the leather ballgown I got for my birthday. Way big. Dude. Lost too much weight doing Fezzi’s.

The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man.
George Bernard Shaw

I have had an interesting couple of days.

Good time alone with James. We managed to have our first, “Krissy freaks out during sex” episodes and he got to find out what dating a crazy woman means. *sigh* It lead to me saying things to him that hurt him. It lead to really good conversation and bonding. Necessary stuff. I was way happy about it.

And I had a 27 hour or so date with Duck Boy. It was very interesting. (Yeah. I didn’t go to the Plough cause I was leaning over to put socks on and slammed my forehead into a corner in my room and spent a while crying and not feeling like seeing anyone. Wow I’m a big dork.) Instead I was mellow and stayed around the house. He has more potential than I originally thought. Hm. Very interesting.

Oh, he’s Duck Boy because he runs http://www.allaboutfrank.com. Totally silly. Right up my alley.

I’m… doing alright. Life is plodding along. I get to run off to dinner with a friend and his kids. Should be good.

Rob says:
“Marilynne Robinson published her first novel, Housekeeping, in 1982. It was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, and an influential critic called it one of the ten best novels of the twentieth century. This November, 22 years later, Robinson came out with her second work of fiction, Gilead. “Writing is like praying,” she told Carin Besser in The New Yorker Online. “In both, if they are to be authentic, grace and truth must discipline thought.” I nominate Robinson to be your patron saint in 2005, Virgo. May she inspire you to produce another gem like the one you did some years ago. May her example give you the faith to work as slowly as you need to in order to remain impeccable, allowing grace and truth to discipline your thought.”

I think that book is singularly odd. I read it for a class term before last. Grace and truth. I don’t know that I have a whole lot of grace going for me. Truth is not a problem.

Though I did have a bad situation this weekend in which I did not speak my truth. I was uncomfortable with a situation and I didn’t ask the person to stop. So I can’t be upset with him for not stopping. I’m upset with me for not thinking I am worth enough; for not being willing to say ‘no’ when I didn’t want something. I feel dirty and stupid. I guess I do have a problem with truth. At least in as far as I don’t seem to be able to stand up for me.