because sleep eludes me...

I'm going to go off on a nonsensical rant now. If you think you have some deep insight into what I am talking about, you are probably wrong. However, it makes me giggle when people try, so knock yourselves out!

I drive a lot at night. Sometimes I am stupid and drive too late at night because my phone turns off and I don't hear my alarm or because I am just enjoying things too much to head home. The roads in Idaho are empty at night. Some people may find that offensive, I find it reassuring. There is still at least one place in the world where people sleep; life is like it was long ago. It isn't like living in a big cit. For instance, there was always traffic in L.A. Maybe it wasn't bad, bumper-to-bumper, maddening, stop-and-go traffic, but it was traffic nonetheless. I like that my city still slumbers. I like that I live in a state where the past still thrives. Mere hours from my house there are people living on ranches, there are hermits surviving in the wilderness, and there are people who would still rather catch their dinner from the river than buy it from a fast food joint. It's different here. We have our own way of life. It is solid and good and I would not want it any other way.

Lately I've grown weary. I've noticed that the more anger I sense around me, the heavier my soul gets. It is still beyond my comprehension how people can be so hurtful to each other. It is even more beyond my comprehension how they can call each other on it without noticing that they are doing the exact same things back and forth. I don't understand hate. I've had bad things happen around me. It isn't that I live in a perfect bubble. Trust me, I wish I did. I feel pain, anger, frustration, but I don't feel the need to take it out on people around me. I know my secret hurts. I know the pain that I feel that nobody else could even imagine existing. I also know that the person that is making me angry has their own secret weight-of-the-world type pain. I try so hard to be kind and to not be hateful. It is an uphill battle, but I do try my hardest. I don't understand not trying.

Perspective is a bitch, hardcore. There is so much pain that is greater than the hurts I feel. My life is significantly more fair than that of a lot of people. Most of the stress and irritation I feel, I brought on myself. However, I still feel the need to vent it occasionally. The problem is that when perspective comes swinging at me with an iron fist, I have to pause and stop myself. It could be worse. It could always be worse. This nagging annoyance is nothing compared to the gigantic weight of grief felt by those around me.

For the last time, I am not fourteen. It has been nearly 11 years since I was. In fact, I don't even remember anything specific about being that young. That's how long ago it was. I realize that I look younger than my (almost) 25 years. I truly do not have a problem with people assuming I am in college or that I just graduated from highschool. I find nothing offensive about that at all. However, when someone looks at me and thinks "She can't even drive!" I want do punch them. I've decided that I am going to wear a whorish amount of makeup from now on. I am going to wear 7 inch heals so that I am at a more "adult" height. I am also going to go have larger breasts surgically implanted. Why you may ask? Because these are the top three reasons I hear for people thinking I am young enough to have been born in the mid 90s. "Oh! But you are just so tiny!" "I just assumed you were younger since you aren't wearing make up." "Wow, I had bigger boobs than you when I was 12!" Dear world so bombarded with media images of what is average that you can't even see my forming crows feet or the fact that my face is more mature than that of a barely pubescent child, you can bite me. I have friends with 14 year old daughters. I've seen them up close... yeah, I don't look even close to that young.

Oh, and while I'm already annoyed: writing is a job for me. It may not make me any money yet, but it is my job. Call it a hobby, and I'll probably cry. I would threaten loss of friendship, but we all know I'm not capable of carrying through on such things.

Kids are a test of patience. Patience has never been my strong suit. Every day I feel like I'm running a gauntlet. I think I need to buy a new pair of noise canceling earphones, put Eddy Izzard on loop on my iPod, and just tune out the incessant whining that I can't seem to stop my kids from doing. I love them dearly, however, I wish they had more grown up manners.

If it is sunny tomorrow, I am going to do a jig on my patio.

I bought a green tank top for St. Paddy's day, but then I realized I am probably just working in the nursery and nobody will see it because I'll wear a sweatshirt over it so that it won't matter if a kid pulls on my shirt. Oh well, at least I'll know I'm wearing a super cute and festive something under my bulky sweatshirt! :)

(fingers crossed) I am going to check out a knitting group tomorrow for a half an hour or so. I'm so scared of strangers. Well, really, I'm scared of not strangers too. In fact, we'll go ahead and say that I'm really scared of most people. Maybe meeting an entire group of knitting ladies that I know online in person isn't really THAT much of a stretch after all.

The End

(P.S. I don't even want to know how many errors are in this post. Typing at 3 a.m. is not really that great for flawless writing...)

i'm not complaining, but...

It kills me. It absolutely kills me to know that people I love feel hurt. It's impossible not to want to run in and fix them. In my head, I'm a superhero. The fact that I am completely inept at saving people... well, it makes me feel inadequate and feeble. I wish I were stronger, that I could rush out and take the pain, the fear, the frustration away. I wish I could be in more than one place at a time.

...

Sometimes I am just sad. Today, I'm sad. Yesterday, I was sad. I wish I knew why. It's a weird contradiction, because part of me is happier than usual. I think part of it is that I feel lonely lately. Being a stay at home mom is very isolating. Being a mom period is isolating. I get out and see people, it's true, but I have to fight against the fact that staying at home all day by myself makes me feel like I never want to see people. Part of me would be just as content to hide away all the time but, since I want to avoid becoming completely agoraphobic, I force myself to leave my house.

I don't want to drive to Boise by myself tonight. I don't want to sit in a coffee shop and write. I do want to go to bed at 6 and watch the Olympics and eat takeout. I want really good burgers and fries and I want to be by myself and just mope. Of course, this isn't a healthy idea. A better idea would be to go to Boise anyway, but I may take a sick day. Josh is going out with Drew, so I could really have alone time. Now, the question, do I stay at home and mope? Or do I do the healthy thing and leave? Right now I'm thinking the lonely thing. I like me the Olympics and I like me the burgers and fries and sometimes I feel like I just need to hide out.

I have a few projects I'm working on right now for the Ravelympics. I'm making a couple of BSU scarves that a friend ordered, and I'm working on something for me too. I came across this pattern online and realized I had the perfect yarn in my stash to make it. I enjoy knitting as much as I enjoy crocheting, and right now I'm really enjoying the fact that I'm learning new things. Figuring out a new stitch makes me very happy. I'll probably include some crocheting or knitting into my alone time tonight.

Oh! And cake. I think I need cake...

are you kidding me...

Dear Cher,
Please get your songs out of my head. I would like to sleep. "If I Could Turn Back Time" and "Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves" are not my idea of lullabies.
Thanks,
Krissy

(Seriously, where did these even come from? My subconscious is random and hates me.)

oh, the summer is gone...

Getting ready to flee this city to a different city. It seems like forever since the last time that Lola and I ran away for a hastily planned trip. It's super exciting, and I can't wait! It's funny, I always plan these escapes ready to get away for a bit, but when it comes right down to it, I dread leaving my kids. I'm going to miss them. They, will probably not miss me. They will be very busy and having a very good time.

Life has been so busy this summer that I've forgotten most of it. It almost feels like we didn't do anything, but the truth is, we were so busy that I barely had time to think.

The comic is going well. I'm enjoying it and am starting to feel the characters take on their own personalities. It's funny how that happens. It's like they exist outside of me, even though I created them. They have full control of where the scripts go now.

My latest trial has been trying to stay grounded. I know what I believe and how I want to view the world and how I want the world to view me. I get frustrated when I catch myself thinking negatively or living in the past. I also get frustrated when those little nagging comments start to come to the surface again. I know there are people out there that think they could do better than I am doing with my life. (I say "I know" because they tell me.) Honestly, I'm sure that by their standards, they could. The problem is that I am happy with how I have chosen to live and with the general direction my life is going. It's true that I make mistakes, but I just can't regret any of them. Why regret things? Why spend so much time feeling down on yourself that you forget how to be happy? Forget how to smile? I just don't get it. I'm continuing on quest to not judge those around me and to forgive, but sometimes, people just make it hard. Seriously, ridiculously, hard.

I should think about sleeping now. Lots to get done before I leave tomorrow! (Well, technically today.)

boys...

...gross...

end scene.

catching up with something...

Summer has started for me. Josh is home and we are settling into a routine. I ran away for a bit this week. Josh let me check myself into a hotel in Boise for a bit of rehab. Maybe I am weak, but I was beginning to lose it. My family is amazing. However, my brain does not function well spending every day in my house and caring for them. I have no idea what is missing from my girlness, but there is a part of me that has no ability to handle the housewife and stay at home mom thing. Why I am admitting this to the world, I have no idea. I know that some of the people that read this are the perfect women. I envy you. There are people that I know that can sew, cook, clean, and care for their families like nobody's business. I write web comics. My brain must be stuck. Only, it seems to be stuck in the same place as most teen boys. Kind of a strange place to find myself in, but I enjoy it. There is a notebook in my bag full of scripts and storyboards and another one waiting to be filled with the nonsensical poetry that lives in a constant stream in my head. It's like narration. It just flows all of the time and, occasionally, there will be a chunk that should be written down. Only, I suppose it is not like narration in the same instant because most of it has nothing to do with my life... just with life in general.

Okay, now for a little bit of the wickedness living in my head. Sometimes, I just want to mess with people. My computer has a file on it of blogs I have never posted. They aren't posted, because they aren't factual. Some of them sound like they are (okay, most of them do), but they aren't. However, it would be fun to put them up. People are so sure that what they read is what is the truth. It is fun to see how they react when it isn't. It is hard to be a writer. That is why I have two different blogs; one to spout whatever nonsense I want, and this one. There are still people who read my life into my poetry and random whatever. I beg of you, stop trying. If you cannot stop, then keep it to yourself... Otherwise, I am going to have to resort to posting the blogs on my hard drive. It will be like War of the Worlds all over again.

the best descriptive words...

Words that I would like to be associated with me: lovely, captivating, funny, charming, witty, trusting, trustworthy, exciting, true, pretty, smart, knowledgeable, open, friend, unique, respectable, confident, mysterious... I should stop now, before the world thinks I am completely conceited, but here is the thing, I was writing today and I realized that the character I was creating, was an image of part of me that I wish existed. She is these things, at least in my head; she is more too. Perfection is so easily reached on paper...

also, bring on the guild season three...

Why did I pick my DS up again? I had made such a clean break... drat. Technology currently in my pockets: DS, iPod, hard drive, phone... my mini is in my room currently, but it will soon be safely in my bag and ready to go to Boise. (When this event occurs, I will transfer aforementioned technology to said bag.) I'm currently waiting for the WoW servers to come back up. I was hoping to get in my dailies while the kids are napping. Not looking too promising. I am currently trying to stop myself from buying a Kindle... but it's just so shiny! I was hoping the new gen would have a color/back light option... maybe I can wait one more gen. Also on my wtb list: Diablo and the original Warcraft games.

Blast! I really want a Kindle!

oh for the love of mike...

There is something about being as insecure as I am that makes the world seem like an adventure from a video game. Everything requires strategy and the ability to dodge the super smash. It's an all out gauntlet marathon.

Here is the ridiculous conversation my brain is having with itself as I sit here and write.

You look good today... shut up, you look like a twelve year old... why do you care?... why do I care, hmm... I enjoy writing... you suck at writing... who cares? I like it?... You should care, stop wasting your life... damn, my life is meaningless... I didn't mean it like that! You have meaning... Oh it's too late, you already said it... Time to drown my sorrows, bring on the rum... Rum? Yeah right. You're in a coffee shop, enjoy the coffee... Coffee! My life isn't so bad, I have coffee... Your life isn't bad anyway... Well, I know, but you know what I mean... Just shut up and get to work... Roger, roger, roger, roger.

Crazy. Yes.
Insecure. Yes.
Unsure. Yes.
Growing increasingly more incapable of knowing how to deal with myself around other people face to face. Yes.

I think I might just need medicated. Did somebody mention rum? Oh, right. Never mind...

give me the beat boys and free my soul...

Three days with very little sleep and I am starting to understand why sleep deprivation causes psychosis. Again. I know that I've been here before. The only thing keeping me sane seems to be the music playing constantly from my computer speakers. If the music stops, I have a feeling that my ability to reason will as well and I will float off into the sky like an errant balloon drifting up into the atmosphere.

Is it wrong to hallucinate? To see things that are not really there, but to recognize that you see them and that they are fiction? Like thought bubbles. The kind on Pop up Video or in comic books. Maybe Pop up Video more. Maybe the action bubbles from comic books. Pow! Bam! Zoom! Yeah, those. Definitely the pop up bubbles though. The ones that come up on the screen and say things like, "She doesn't really feel that way," or, "When they go home, they drop the feçade and cry." It's almost like insight, but fake insight. If it does not exist and you recognize that, then is it not just believing lies?

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.
-The Beatles

pumping narcotics into my veins and waiting for hallucinations

Today, I am high. I spent yesterday evening high, went to bed high, woke up high, and am still high. It has been too long, and it is beautiful. There is a haze in the air swirling with sensations and colors that I can only experience when I am outside my body and floating past chaos and into bliss.

This is the only way it can be explained. Arms scared with invisible track marks that are a thing of beauty. Soothing my soul with words that only my heart knows and singing sweet somethings and nothings into my head.

Chaos needs put in it's place. It needs to me placed in time out a minute for every year of it s life. Since Chaos was born in the beginning it should be in the corner until the end. Put a ban on Chaos. Marches should be arranged, banners painted, slogans blared over loud speakers.

For me, this is all I need. There is a missing puzzle piece that everyone finds to complete the picture of who they are supposed to be and what destiny they are supposed to fulfill. Success is not the correct measure of completeness, happiness is. Euphoria is. Looking around and realizing you are in the right place at the right time for once and that everything is as it should be.

My puzzle piece is in my pocket. My perfect drug is in my system. The world is not prepared for what that means...

death, or something like it...

Dying as defined by Miriam Webster
1: to pass from physical life: expire
2: a: to pass out of existence: cease
b: to disappear or subside gradually —often used with away, down, or out

Dying as defined by Dictionary.com
1: ceasing to live; approaching death; expiring
2: of, pertaining to, or associated with death
3: given, uttered, or manifested just before death
4: drawing to a close; ending
5: the act or process of ceasing to live, ending, or drawing to a close

I didn't write this for any reason other than that I thought the definitions were interesting... especially when one thinks about all of the situations in which you use the word death. Examples? The literal death of someone. The death of a way of life. The death of ones childhood. The death of old, harmful memories. We put things to death every day in our lives.

Call me morbid, but as I was reading these a few actually struck me as funny...

------------

I'm only going to say this once on this blog. If I have actual problems that should be dealt with in ways other than blogging them, I promise, I will. Don't take this too seriously! If you all really know me, as most of you do, then you know that I am a thinker, a brooder, a deep soul lost in a shallow world. I say things to make people think. Rarely am I actually feeling the emotion portrayed within the words I use. Think about it for a while. Just because I sound happy, does not mean that I am. However, this also means that depressing posts do not mean that I'm depressed and that blogs talking about death do not mean that I'm dying. Chillax my friends. I write to write, and I enjoy it. I speak truth here, but I also explore and contemplate. You'll just have to take that for what it is. Love to my fans! Peace out...

you like me, you really like me...

My friend Katie asked me to rant. So, she is directly responsible for this blog. (heehee)

It has been a while since I have talked about my little friend that lives inside my head and comes to visit me when I have time. Mostly, this is because I haven't had time for her lately. I feel bad, and it probably will not be long before I visit with her again. I was having visions and hallucinations about her life tonight driving home in the fog (safe, I know) and so I have some things that I can add to her story now.

My crafting gene has come out and started to demand some attention. I am going to try to do some cleaning so that I can do something fun. I'm not sure yet if this will be a scrapbooking project, a crocheting project, one of many others. I need to express myself creatively soon though. Maybe I'll get really ambitious and start some sort of a project with Jenna.

A little part of my brain has been telling me lately that I need to learn how to stop being both passive aggressive and type A before I give myself a coronary. I guess I'll work on that in my spare time. Maybe after I manage to potty train Jenna. Maybe not. It might be better for everyone if I continue to bottle for a while before I start some sort of mass conflict and then perch myself in Canada to watch the anarchy that would most likely ensue.

And finally, a limerick.

There once was a lamp with some style,
Who wanted to go see the Nile.
As much as it tried,
To the wall it was tied,
So it cried and it cried for a while.

(not my best work... ah well.)

something needs to change...

There are times when I wish that there was a small part of me that was tweaked just enough that I could enjoy being around groups of people. Times like tonight when I have a dining room full of friends playing poker and I am sitting alone in the corner of my living room writing this. I like all of the people that are here. In fact, a good chunk of them are my closest friends, but I am still writhing in agony within the confines of my head. What is happening to me? I've never liked huge groups, but it seems that this phobia is getting increasingly worse with every passing year. I have always been insecure, but lately I am finding that I would rather be involved in my own little world and wrapped up in my own fantasy than have to participate in real life. I am actually beginning to become a little concerned. I'm afraid of becoming one of those people that is too afraid to leave their own home to enjoy life. What happens when my kids get involved in sports and I can't handle taking them because I don't want to interact with the other parents? I don't understand why it is so hard for me to... exist? No. I like existence; that isn't it. Who knows. Not me. I'm going to go read a book, something factual.

we two have run about the slopes, and picked the daisies fine...

Last night I attended a New Year's Eve party of epic proportions. The beautiful thing was that it was at home, and that I was comfy in my jammies. I refuse to elaborate too far, but I got to spend the evening with amazing people that have great senses of humor and to play games that did not force me to live in embarrassment praying for the time when I could go home and hide in my corner again. It was beautiful, relaxing, comforting, and just what I needed.

Life can be stressful. Again, I refuse to elaborate much farther than that. My kids, my husband, my dog-- these are all sources of stress. However, this is not what I am talking about. What I am talking about is the kind of thing that can cause gut wrenching agony and feelings of distrust and distaste.

Finally, I wish to say that I do not resolve to make resolutions or make resolutions to resolve what must find resolution. It is not my style to try to change the inevitably unchangeable or to live in the disappointment of failure that I have brought upon myself by giving myself impossible goals. I like me and I like my life. That being said, I want to have a good year this year. I had a wonderful year in 2008. Not everything went smoothly, but we all survived and are relatively healthy. I pray for my kids that they will continue to grow and explore the world around them, but also that they will stay safe and that they will learn how to explore and test their boundaries in a way that is pleasing to their parents as well as to God.

I hope you all had a wonderful 2008, and I pray that 2009 will be blessed for you.

why snow is the bestest...

Why snow is the bestest: A five point list.
By: Me

1. It is pretty and white. It makes the ground pretty and white and the trees pretty and white and the houses pretty and white and so on.

2. When it snows, it helps the Idaho economy. The ski resorts need the snow to run and they contribute a good deal to the tourist draw and out of state money coming into our state. Also, a good snow year means good run off which means enough water for crops the next spring and summer. This, in turn, means more money for our great state.

3. Kids like snow. Jenna is a kid. Therefore, Jenna likes snow. Snow keeps Jenna occupied and that gives me more time to concentrate on keeping my sanity.

4. Snow makes me happy... inversions make me sad. When it is snowing, there isn't an inversion.

5. Snow is cold and wet. Rain is cold and wet. Snow is pretty. Rain is cold and wet. Snow is better than rain. At least in the winter. Spring rain is ok.

Fini

dark circles are sexy...

Mothers around the world should all band together declaring that the dark circles under our eyes are sexy. Sometimes it is impossible to sleep, and this is not our fault. Why should we be punished by having to apply layers of concealer to hide the circles that soothing away nightmares and taking care of late night hungry tummies gave us? I say fie! That's right, fie! A pox on the makeup industry and the lies that say that dark circles and rumpled clothes are not sexy. We moms must band together and stand up against the falsehoods that the media puts forth. Motherhood and all of the stretchmarks, weight gains, dark circles, ponytails, and jelly hand prints are sexy. Deal with it America!

With that out of my system, I will continue on to something else.

Renting homes really bites. I love the house we live in now, but we need more space. After becoming quite attached to two different homes that we looked at and having the owners of the homes tack on more things here and there that made us not want to rent them we have decided to buy. I think we are going to look in Kuna first. Our current landlord happens to be a fantastic guy and a semi-retired real-estate agent. He already has a list of places he wants us to drive by, and from those we will pick some to go and look at on the inside. I'm nervous and excited and I can't wait to see where this adventure leads.

plot, pause, plot, pause...

Plot: She seems to be stuck. I'm not sure what happened, but her story is currently at an impasse. No matter which way she turns, there is only one end. Unfortunately I am nowhere close to wanting to end her story and the end in sight is not what I had in mind for her. Not only that, but said end does not fit well with the rest of who or what she is. Drat. Blast!

Pause: Jenna went down for a nap today without a fuss. She said, "Jenna nap now please." Then she got up grabbed Lumpy and Braffe and walked herself into her bedroom where she said, "Mommy, Jenna bed now. Blankets please. Night. Bye!" Not only is this an impressively long progression of words from my not quite two year old daughter, but she went willingly into bed! No fit, no screaming, no mommy guilt. What a great day!

Plot: What happens when you get caught in a lie? Not a little lie, but a huge, terrible, awful lie. Do you suffer consequences? Or do you just get away with it? What happens to someone who comes from an intensely moral place and ends up somewhere entirely different? Do they feel guilt? Does life within the plot mimic life without? If that is the case, everyone gets away with everything without any sort of repercussions. Of course she lives outside of the normal realm, but what about those around her? Life gets complicated when you are trying to keep two separate realities from colliding. At least for me. Maybe for her? Maybe life imitates art more than art imitates life. Drat. Blast! A pox on fictional obsessions...

Pause: Cole makes me laugh. Today he spit up everywhere. He started to laugh, but then his hand landed in the mess. His eyes got wide and he started to scream. Yes, scream! You would have thought that someone had pinched him. I cleaned him up, and he went back to cooing and giggling. He must be my kid after all.

pigeonholes...

This is an image of my brain. I like to think of the large box holding the smaller boxes as Krissy. Inside that box I compartmentalize into pigeonholes in order to keep myself sane. Each box has a label. Jenna. Cole. Josh. Family. Church. Home. Work. Fun. Writing. Friends. Inner child.

The box labeled inner child has cobwebs growing in it. I can see things inside of it, but what they are exactly are obscured by the dust collecting on them.

I want to run away for a little while and spend some time with myself. There is a part of me that I suppress. I want to rediscover it. I want to be the crazy imaginative me that used to exist. Somewhere between college beginning and now I lost my ability to have fun for the sake of fun. I started looking over my shoulder to make sure that no one was following me and that no one could ruin the life that I have so carefully constructed for me and my family. It is interesting how one little mistake can haunt you. If you don't believe in ghosts, you should. I see the shadows of a former self following me around wherever I look. I want to get rid of them, but at the same time I want to hold them close. I like seeing where I've come from. It reminds me that I need to stay humble. But still. I miss being carefree. I miss being able to sit down by myself in a coffee shop (with my computer and my music) to write without having to worry about who is coming through the door and what they might know. What if they know too much? Is that pity on their faces? Pity, or piety. It really has to be one of the two. I'm just me. But me needs to be carefully sorted back into little boxes for now. Maybe someday I'll be able to sort me out, however, today I think I'll just go back to ignoring the cluttered boxes and focus on the ones that are neat and tidy. If things stay in their cubbyholes I can focus on the rest of me, and the rest of the people who need me.