Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

moving

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Time has scrunched up and distorted itself again, and just like a rearview mirror some objects are much closer than they appear. One object that is much closer than it appears is the moving truck into which i will be loading three couches, two tables, a desk, and a bureau around this time tomorrow. In my brain the truck is still so far away that i have room to maneuver, or to brake quickly, when i reality it is on top of me so much that i hardly have space to breathe.

So, time has everything that’s tailgating me held off for the time being (at least to my perception), and i am left suspended in cruise control. Work, Friends, Sleep, Work, Rehearse, Sleep,… capitol lettered events leading me from one day to the next without a question. My bed has had a giant green Rubbermaid bin at the bottom of it for an entire week, and now fully half of its width is taken up with clothes and books i am sorting through, which leaves me a significantly less-than-human-size space in which to curl up at night. But, i don’t protest, because moving the bin or finishing my sort are things i haven’t scheduled any time for. And, so, i will arrive home tonight at 8pm (after another rotation of Work / Rehearsal) and i will leave for work half a day later and in the between bits my apartment will transform itself from scattered to neatly piled, and hopefully my thoughts will follow suit.


Half a day to scrunch the remaining half of my worldly possessions into truck-sized bundles while managing to leave out the things i need to live: already packed are all of my belts, brushes, kitchen utensils, and ties vs. inexplicably unpacked snowboots, economics textbooks, and condoms, none of which i’ll be using in the next day. Or in the next semester, for that matter, unless some highly unpredictable/improbable things occur (like snow in October, me inexplicably switching back into the BS program i scratched and clawed to escape, or me having a romantic life that *gasp* includes sex)(see, i told you they were improbable).

Somewhere at the bottom of a sorting pile of snowboots and textbooks (the condoms are segregated) lies an entire box of caffeine pills that i never opened. You do the math.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/08/5367845/

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Back in the real world, my lease ends a week from today, and i think it just fully hit me today that all of my things have to be mobile by the middle of next week. The result was a two hour cleaning and packing binge that has so far gotten half of my cds, half of my clothing, and half of my books put away. The only problem seems to be that i have run out of places to put things, and so hopefully i’ll be going to walmart later to rectify the situation. Anyhow, today i am putting down the deposit on the new apartment (finally), and seeing my mother for nearly the first time all summer, and apparently i have decided to blog about lots of uninteresting things in an attempt to drive you away before the anniversary celebration on Sunday. Run!

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/08/5277090/

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Today is a slippery fish of a life that i can barely hold onto, and i’m left trying to catch hold of it with my inadequate hands because i am oh-so-afraid to hurt it with my twines and hooks. Nothing is reeling in, but at the same time i am surrounded by possibilities. I just bought a plane ticket, for the first time ever; my grandmother set up the tickets for last year’s flights to and from Florida.

As life is swimming all around me, i have been spending a lot of time staring at this little white box with my head empty. Rereading the archives has this funny effect of proving that my life is endlessly cyclical, as i keep seeing the same topics churn up to the top. Next week is surely going to be all about once again packing my life into a single truck’s worth of possessions and obsessions and pulling up my roots, just like the first week was. And, looking into the fall, i see the same love/hate of classes, and the same wonderful slow-motion view of my life that i go into when sunlight streams in through new windows, and the chill creeping into the air as i pick a new favourite mug.

I was rereading the archives of the entire year i’m really glad that i have this, and you. My quality of life has improved, as ridiculous as that sounds, and i think this way i might be able to actually learn from my mistakes. And, to think, this all started just as a place to jot things down.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/08/5252671/

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You would almost hope that if i wholly disappear for two days that i’m off experiencing something, unless maybe you are especially sadistic or disinterested – in which case you might be hoping that i’m having even more problems with my landlord or that my phone service was shut off. Either way you would be incredibly wrong, as the last 48hours of my life has generally involved a lot of boredom minus a couple of hours filled with jello shots.


Can i just discuss jello shots for a moment? They are colorful little bundles of deceptive joy. You swallow a jello shot and it doesn’t even hardly taste bad, and when someone offers you another one you gladly take it. And then, why not suggest a third? This all seems fine, but when people start groping for a fourth giggly cup of primary colour yumminess in under twenty minutes your brain should finally kick in and realize that all of that jello will eventually get melted down by your stomach, at which point the alcohol within would be released into your unsuspecting body.


So, that’s a word on jello shots.

I’m supposed to be making frantic last-minute arrangements to get my ass to folk-fest, and i am not. This is going to draw a lot of flack from a few friends of mine, but i honestly don’t care. I tried my bet to get involved with folk-fest and to make room in my schedule, and a certain friend decided i need to be on his committee and i had to leave early and stay late – and this was all well and good in theory, but everyone seems to forget that i work a full time job with full time pay and that i cannot just blow it off to live in a tent in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of hippy snobs who would string me up by my toes if they heard i skipped out on Erin McKoewn because i had tickets to go see Madonna. Long story short being that even in the middle of last week they were still expecting me to be at the fest until midnight on next Sunday, and even though they were willing to make exceptions for me i wasn’t interested in being the exceptions boy, so i’m not going.

I think i have all of that banality out of my system now. I just packed up a box of schoolbooks and papers and things that i never even touched this year, and i still have miles of clothes and sheet music and guitars and cds ahead of me. But, at least i’m not going to be stranded in careless folk-land for the entirety of the week, so i’ll actually have time to finish all of this.

Bleh, why did i even wake up?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/08/5174763/

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So, after my massive bitch session last night, today was about change. After two particularly bitchy comments this morning at the coffee shop i gave my two weeks notice. It’s a bit odd, because the shop is the first real permanent job i’ve ever had, and i love all my coworkers dearly, but at this point the experience is worth more in stress to me than it is in cash money. I could have theoretically stayed almost through April, but i’m not. Oh well. In other news, i might be moving. I’m not sure. I like this apartment a lot, but i think i’s much worse than a dorm room for me because i really am here by myself almost all of the time, which motivates me 0%. When Matt is here all he does is sleep on the couch or … um… occasionally sleep in the bed, and it’s a proven fact that the social state and work ethics of my roommates rub off on me, so… i don’t know. Moving would be a lot of bullshit, and i’d have to talk to all of our utilities and find people to help me move, but this place isn’t really condusive to my mental health right now, and i really need my mental health.

Other changes? I don’t know. I told Laurel that i had a girlfriend, and then i told her i’d cry when she leaves for Europe. The way i feel about Laurel is sorta the way you feel about that one special ex: benevolent and still attracted even though you know nothing will ever come of it. Of course, nothing ever did come of it because Laurel isn’t my ex or anything like it. What she is is a beautiful & intelligent true friend, one of my first in the theatre at Drexel, and i will never forget her.


So, there’s my positive day. Now i have to go and die… err… i meant sleep. Yeah. Sleep of the dead.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/01/2096459/