Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

selfy-stuff

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I’ve always wanted to date someone with their own life, and their own problems and issues. Thinking about some of the people i’ve really crushed upon in the last few years, i don’t know if any of them had enough issues for me. It’s not as though i want to find someone with problems so i can solve them, or feel better about myself, but i think i tend to reduce myself to a much more boring person when i’m faced with someone who is extremely “normal.” And boring isn’t attractive.


Of course, liking someone with issues is a challenge unto itself. You immediately volunteer yourself, either as an answer or a crutch or a balm. Remove yourself from the situation and its like ripping the scab off of a fresh wound – everything looks even bloodier and worse than it did before you arrived on the scene.

I’m an optimist, and i like to think that there’s a middle ground. Isn’t knowing someone really cares about you enough of a crutch when you’re depressed? I always thought it would be, but maybe it was just an illusion. If that’s the case, maybe i should go back to liking boring girls, because i don’t know if i’m ready to play the daily role of a fix to someone’s addictions.

Wow, i really mixed some metaphors in there, didn’t i?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/02/2225202/

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Isn’t it funny that i can’t distinguish between an adventurous year and a low-point in my life? It either speaks to how much i trust my television’s depiction of actual life or of how boring my life has been so far that i can’t imagine me doing anything truly fun and worthwhile like visiting Europe, or traveling cross-country, or joining a rock band. I would feel like a much healthier person if i could separate the two impulses rather than merging them in a twisted soap opera amalgam. How would you suggest i make my life feel lived in? Skydive? Play chicken with Septa buses? Walk around my neighborhood carrying something obviously valuable and brace for mugging? I need something…

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/02/2221271/

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I was sorta expecting to have a wild year sometime in the midst of college. Last year i smoked pot a handful of times, but that hardly composes a bad streak all on its own, especially considering the romantic and sexual isolation i was experiencing at the time. This was going to be the year, though. It’s not exactly a cocaine addiction or anything, but it would’ve been something to tell Behind the Music about. This was going to be the year that i lived through drunken stories that could i hardly recall and slightly regretted tales of mornings after and all that. That’s not to say that i would have been a huge slut, because i love to lord my virginity over other (less pure) people, and i probably wouldn’t ever drink that much because i have an extremely healthy sense of my limitations – but i could’ve worked around those issues.


So, what’s the condition of this awful streak now? The story ends with my drinking leveling off, me actually maintaining a vestige of a social life, and *gasp* actually dating. I know, it’s weird. The weirdest part is, i still have zero-experience outside of this single relationship, so for as long as i stay within it i’m relatively going to be suspending my wild streak. But… i don’t want a handful of idiotic jaunts to consist of my entire youthful rebellion; however, admitting that i wouldn’t mind fucking up worse in the future basically admits the lack of validity of my relationship, which does not lend itself to alcohol poisoning or random drug addiction.


Can a healthy relationship and an urge to live one emotionally and physically shitty year co-exist peacefully in my life? Um… stay tuned?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/02/2213017/

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You never know how your first fight will end. You could be in the most idealic relationship ever, perfect and smiling and doting and happy, and a single fight could tear it all down. Maybe she cries too much or isn’t rational, or maybe you speak without thinking or are cold-hearted. I can’t imagine how you could predict that sort of thing; what the fight would be about, why, how it would end. Sure, you could be optimistic and just hope it’s trivial and that it leads to make-up sex, but how realistic is that, really?

So, maybe i picked a fight on Sunday. I think maybe we both did. The problem seems to be that we have nearly the exact same ambition, except i am all optimism with my assuming it’ll be alright, and she’s all pessimism and striving to make her goals come to her. Of course, pitting an optimist and a pessimist who both want to write for a living, act for fun, and be rock stars against each other is never too beautiful. Everything wound up fine, though, which was good, because after crying on the floor for an hour tonight i needed someone to talk to.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/01/2174343/

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So, yeah, theatre. First i bitched about it, and then i got sucked into it, and here i am bitching about it again. I don’t like to act. Maybe i’m good at it, and maybe i’m not, but i only really like the attention i get and being able to stand on a stage above everyone else. That’s it, though. And, yet, somehow i’ve managed to have rehearsal every night and a song i have to arrange and sing and now i’ve got to learn how to method-act my hand being crippled for half of the show. And i have to learn how to scream.

I’m thinking that last bit won’t be to hard. In the show i get struck hard with a hot curling iron, and it both breaks the bones in my hand and burns me badly. My director keeps trying to give me suggestions on how i could perfect this prolonged scream of anguish and despair, some of which were: “Haven’t you ever put your hand into a fire before?” “Go home and try pouring hot wax on yourself. I can give you some pointers on sensitive spots to try.” “Stick your head into an oven later! And make sure to vocalize through the pain.”


Good direction, isn’t it. It’s like in high school … i had to play these two brief minutes of being drunk, and i just didn’t know how to do it. I was straightedge, i was innocent, and i had no idea what alchohol did to human body. My director coaxed and fixed and pointed and when it came time for performance i still looked like some foolish kid who was a little bit dizzy. In retrospect, he should’ve just bought me a bottle of vodka and let me learn the easy way. So, i’m off to find some hot wax… yum.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/01/2110463/