Yummy new read: Sterillized Velcro to Save the Children.
by krisis
Archives for August 2002
Trying to decided if my sprained ankle would support a leap of the river-like puddle or if i should give up and ford it, it occurred to me that i couldn’t remember the last time i had felt rain on my toes. It’s not the sort of thing that happens too often to me, as i’m not often found frolicking in dewy fields or dancing in the rain. My toes were definitely being rained on, though, enough to make up for my length of neglect.
I leapt, as though it really made a difference. Three blocks later and i was sopping wet from head to toe, above and below my silver vinyl jacket. No one in the apartment was awake to see my soggy return, and in minutes i was day and freshly clothed – the dancing pitter patter above me on the roof the only reminder of my intrepid journey. That and the pile of soaked through clothing outside my door, and the sleepy smile on my face.
I did not prepare a speech.
Today we overslept for work. Every time one of us stirred enough to wake the other she would ask “It’s not too late to go in yet, is it?” Not waiting for an answer, she would hit snooze again.
I couldn’t tell you the last Monday that i actually made it in to work. Hours later we drove to the mall, ostensibly to shop for gifts but really just to buy a quart of Ben & Jerry’s. It almost melted on the way home, balanced on my knee in front of the air conditioning vent. As she was putting it in the freezer i think she was talking to me, but i wandered upstairs and into bed. When she found me i looked right at her, and then closed my eyes and said, “Just for a minute, i’m so tired.”
Now it’s almost midnight, and i’m trying to think of what to say.
I originally intended this page to be a scratch-pad, with no edits and no regrets. Quickly it turned into an almost constant running commentary, with no room for reflection. Later it became a catchall… recording all of my feelings for when i might need to remember them again. This year it has been a diary, the place where i run to when i can’t tell anyone else what i am thinking.
I’m not sure what it is now, but somehow it helped to get me to where i am. It has helped me to get happy.
This seems like such a lackluster way to mark the second birthday of this page, but somehow it’s totally apropos; I don’t think a speech is really necessary. Thank you for reading, and happy birthday to this.
https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/08/happy-birthday-to-this-2/
Sometimes that early-morning dew that leaves my room smooth and cool to the touch is really just grease, with the grit and asphalt of the city as its pan, and five hours later we are roasting and still sticking to everything.
The woodchuck on the label of my cider looks quite silly holding a raspberry up to his nose, and i opted for a cup and straw instead, which – i think – makes this day inconceivably more lazy than it was beforehand.
I don’t think i’m ever going to be able to live somewhere where i can’t sit in front of my computer in my underwear at odd hours of the night staring at the internet and trying to think of something to say.
Kate works in an office where she occasionally has a few minutes to burn between projects, and ever since the blogathon she’s been filling all of those moments with a big heaping serving of Krisis. Seeing as i live with Kate and hang out with her on a day-to-day basis, she is definitely the regular reader most entangled in the actual living i’m doing short of Elise. After skimming for entries about her and then reading some random highlights, today she apparently resolved to read me all the way through, from day one on. I warned her that day one was about as long as June 2002, and she replied with a knowing smirk.
I’ve followed Kate’s lead and delved into some CK written from the old apartment, and it’s downright odd. I don’t remember writing like i did then – in constant fits and starts, or even thinking like that. Now every single post either sends me into a fit of laughter or a state of quiet contemplation, and sometimes both consecutively. And, though i’m sure it’s very amusing and thought-provoking on its own (heh), the highlights for me definitely connect to having been there when they were written… remembering how many times i fell to the ground in a fit of hysterical laughter on this night of drinking with Aim, laughing out loud at the nearly psychic advice doled out in this post, and remembering to read the commented out dream in this one, which i easily recollected almost blow for blow.
As much as i love making other people think, or laugh, or sing along, i think the best part of this is often just looking back and seeing exactly what i was like on a certain day nearly two years ago. It’s truly worth the effort.