Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

krisis

Krisis has been creating Crushing Krisis since 2000, writing songs since 1996, and reading comics since 1991. He is a Customer Success and Digital Brand Strategy executive, serial organizer, parent, and feminist, among other things. Based in Philly through 2017, he now resides in Wellington, NZ.

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I can’t remember the last time i had an entire week off. I cannot even fathom the last time it happened… before i started doing internships, and before i started working at the coffee shop, but sometime after high school ended. There is a three or four week window in there somewhere, and that is the last time i truly had a week off..

Last week my obligations, as if in cahoots with each other, all cancelled each other out. Between last Tuesday and this Monday i had a single class and worked for three hours, but for all intents and purposes i was off — with no responsibilities other than to myself. I hardly knew what to do with myself at the time, but i fell into a sort of rhythm: waking up a little late, doing something i had been meaning to do for months, playing guitar, running an errand, et cetera. Nothing of substance, just the things i would find the time to fit in if time were more hours in a day.

I know people who have worked every week of their adult life in order to support themselves. They impress me; even if i wanted to be i am not quite that independent. I also know a lot of people who have somehow managed to shirk all responsibilities altogether, and spend a lot of time achieving nothing. I’m not sure if they impress me, but i am amazed by them, because i do not know how not to achieve anything. Even with my dead week i still recorded three new songs, and read six books. Numbers. Events. Achievements.

Now that i am back to a normal week, i am suddenly unsure of how a “day” works, or what i am supposed to achieve within its restraints. My responsibilities are back, but i am unsure of what to do with them. Today i have actual classes and responsibilities looming, and i can’t even seem to set foot out of my room. And, if i were to escape it, i’m not sure what i’d even do afterwards.

Do i have a volunteer to go to Ethics for me while i work this all out?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2003/10/106631399772989979/

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I love surprises. For example, in elaborating on the music of Peter Mulvey for Anthony, i discovered that Mulvey-tabber Josh Woodward has his own page, complete with video of Peter, MP3s of a recent full-band show (including, swoon, an electric “Wings of the Ragman“), as well as recordings of his own music (including a raucous cover of Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues“). Josh’s name is one that i instantly recognize from the Mulvey fan list, and also from the site MulveyFan (and, take note Lindsay and Dante, apparently FruHead as well).

(And, less this post end without any self-centered content, note that Josh started about a year ago, which still leaves me as the reigning champion song-blogger. Well, actually, Scott Andrew started before me, but i have yet to ascertain if he did anything Trio-y at the inception of his page. Still, Scott is currently the coolest songblogger, as he just released a rad new EP of mostly web-debuted tunes that you should definitely, definitely buy.)

https://crushingkrisis.com/2003/10/106575820581615783/

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It’s really not that i have some exhibitionist need to put my personal life on display, it’s just that sometimes i really haven’t worked something through until i’ve written about it and hit publish, and at that point taking it back would be like reversing the entire process.

Okay, so, maybe there’s a little exhibitionism in there somewhere.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2003/10/106550967893653458/

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I’ve been holding on to this awful fear in the pit of my stomach for over a year now — that anytime the phone rings it’s going to be bad news about my grandmother. Maybe it’s why i hate the phone so much, how i always avoiding answering its ring and why i made sure to leave my cell phone safely ensconced within my old office building for the last two weeks … why i wasn’t surprised to finally pick it up only to hear a sequence a messages from my mother, each serving as a cold comfort as none quite claimed the worst.

I was caught, though, last night, live and on the line to my mother as she once again laid on this guilt, as if i know how to set aside my entire life and somehow make this all easier for her, or how to make my grandmom happier and not in so much pain, or how to do anything. The truth is that i don’t know, i can’t do anything, and every time my mother reminds me of how truly bad things are i see my grandmother and i convince myself that everything is okay.

I have finally been convinced now, though, that it is not okay. Sitting in the middle of the floor idly strumming my guitar and it all at once hit me that even though i made Elise promise to drive me over there tomorrow when her class is over that i missed out. I missed out on bringing Elise to meet her like i said i would, and on having her come to my college graduation, or even have her see me become successful or hold my children in some distant future. I realized all of that, and that maybe i have resisted dealing with it emotionally for all this time because i was hoping that somehow if i pushed it to the back of my mind and just kept working i would somehow make everything that she’s always dreamed for me come true.

What followed was a mess of tears and words and suddenly, two hours later, i’ve lost a box of tissues but gained a song so stupidly simple that i can’t help but keep crying as i have it on repeat because it encapsulates so very perfectly just how crushed this is leaving my life, and how much i just want to be able to have my college diploma and my successful life ready to bring with me tomorrow when i sit next to her bed, because i can’t think of anything else to give her (because she doesn’t really like songs all that much).

But, on the bright side, i’m a third of the way done my next Trio.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2003/10/106550775490805569/