I’m Not Doing Nothing, But I’m Kind of Doing Nothing

11 07 2013

To say that I’m nervous is putting it mildly. Whenever a friend brings it up or my mother calls me on the phone I want to turn into an ostrich and bury my head in the sand. It’s been three months since I quit my retail job in an attempt to go back into what I’m actually good at. I took a risk and that risk has left me jobless and 20 days away from being out on the street or even worse captive in my parent’s basement in the middle of nowhere Kansas. I have been going through fluctuating waves of hope and dejection.

To say I haven’t given deep thoughts to pulling a Sylvia Plath or a David Foster Wallace would be a lie– if only I had written something nearly as profound as either of them. Sure, it’s a dramatic topic but let’s be real for a second. I am two-weeks away from returning to the homeland a failure. What I never wanted to be was a disappointed and I have to accept the fact that that is exactly what I’ve become–at least to myself.

Head in sand ostrich

I pushed myself to excel every year of my life, Straight As, President of Clubs, Lead Roles, Masters Degrees, Records, Novels, and yet none of that was good enough. Because being good doesn’t necessarily get you anywhere.

Being positive or negative just makes you look at the situation differently but it doesn’t change the situation–the situation is neutral.

I have applied to over 100 jobs. I went so far as to walk co/blvd and colfax all the way down to wnykoop and apply to as many server jobs as I could along the way. I told myself while I was in grad school that I’d never work a server job again. That getting those degrees was my way out of that world.

Despair comes close to being the right word.

And everyone around says, “don’t give up!”

What sirs and ma’ams am I actually supposed to do at this point?

How can giving up not be the solution?

It’s just a really big problem. If I quit concerning myself with it, maybe it will solve itself.

In the end something will happen whether I have a plan or not.  Is there really a point in making a plan when at this point there is nothing to plan?

Desire comes close to being the right word.

Luckily I have assurance that the outcome will end up being exactly what it needs to be. I have confidence that it’s going to work out in some overall big master-plan-that-I-am-unaware-of type of way.

There is plenty to be thankful for in this situation, mainly my parents offering still after all these years of assisting to keep assisting. I wonder if they ever wish they had insisted I go into something that people actually get paid for–like computer programming or I don’t know, business–instead of telling me that I should become whatever I wanted. And then my friends who put up with me and more often than they should, buy me beer. Of course I have my health, besides the bug bites on my ass, my reproductive system doing whatever it feels like and my left pinky-toe trying to separate from my foot I’m as healthy as a clam. I have food to eat. I have time to read books and write stories because there are so few jobs to apply to, I can watch whatever I want to on netflix. I’m not homeless going through the alley dumpster like the guy I can see from my window! I heard the Jay-Z record and it didn’t suck! I don’t skateboard so no dog can ever bite at my ankle while I zoom by (I saw this happen). Life can be pretty awesome.

I’m trying to be all mindful and shit. Again, the situation is neutral. How I respond, how I react, well that’s all up to me. I ride the waves.

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5 Randoms: Death, Depression and Sex

12 06 2013

1. I used to say that the only thing that kept me from killing myself was that there were so many good books left in the world to read. Now I’d like to add that there are so many good albums left in the world to listen to. I suppose if I ever get through them all I can go ahead and knock myself off.

2. I was talking to my guy friend the other day regarding this drunk dude hitting on me at the bar and me declining. He said he’d rather have bad sex than no sex at all. And I had to disagree. I would rather go home eat a burrito and watch some Netflix then have to deal with his jack-rabbit 2-minute fiesta followed by his whiskey-breath snoring bed hogging. Not to mention worrying about babies and STDs. No thanks.

I know. It’s not like we can always determine whether the sex is going to be good or not, but it’s pretty clear to me if the guy is swaying from intoxication he probably will have trouble performing while naked.

3. I’ve been slightly depressed lately. I took a drinking break because I was doing it every night and I was getting too good at it. Like in Arrested Development when Lucille drinks Kitty under the table, yeah, I could go head to head with Lucille good. But I think these last few days I’ve been going through a minor detox. I am really irritated and I am annoyed with everyone, even people that I LOVE. But the best part of all this is that it’s bringing me back to my creative side. More writing, more painting, more obscure thoughts about humanity.

woman with handkerchief

4. The other day I went on a happy hour date and the dude said all sorts of fucked of gender things. Like the only reason men stick around and talk to women is because they want to have sex with them. He “barely was even listening to what I was saying” because he was “picturing me naked.” His Russian woman friend told him that American women don’t know how to “drop the handkerchief.” I’ve been exploring the concepts of Dominance and Submission and honestly I don’t know how two people could even enjoy this type of relationship if there wasn’t an intelligent mutual understanding of the dynamic and what it means to each one and to the couple collectively.

Also, I’m pretty sure he was trying to neg me. But I called him out on it. So then he stepped it up to neg level 4, subtle passive aggressive negs. Got to be careful of the older gentlemen sometimes. They’ve been playing the game a lot longer and know advanced skills.

5. I have two job interviews tonight. If neither grab me I’m running away to South America. I am serious. Honestly, I’d probably rather run away than take either of these jobs, but I will let unfold life’s journey for me as it goes.





Re-Focusing My Focus: Moving Away from Abstract Concepts.

11 09 2012

It won’t be long until summer is gone and everyone who felt something will be cold again.

It’s weird how the season’s change people. Just like the days of the week. I wonder what this year will bring. Strange because I feel like the end of the heat is the end of the year.

I had to give up on a boy (again, I know) and that is fine.

But always sad.

Take S for an example. He was around me a lot during the winter then suddenly he fell for someone else and moved basically to a different planet. All I got as a response from other people was, “yeah he does that,” like, if I had been in a better place I could have gotten him to go anywhere with me. But no, now I’m still here, bouncing from bar to bar, drink to drink, questioning everything and coming up with no answers.

And it wasn’t that I was even in love with S–he’s the example because I wasn’t.

Was not.

I was in love with his spirit, his ability to get super excited about ideas and possibilities. I guess I loved his love he gave the world. Perhaps that’s the same problem I’m having with this other guy. But if this is the case, do we ever really love a person or what that person represents? I loved R because he was creative and challenging, so maybe I just loved creativity and challenges? But is it so wrong that people are the representations of these things? And is it so wrong to love them because of that–because why else would we love them? Just because they exist? Their existence doesn’t do anything to heighten our own existence, unless we find in them something we’re either missing or wanting more of. I mean why else do we socialize? To feel connected in some way… but to feel that connection we have to have something unifying us. Perhaps that’s why so many people are obsessed with sports. Not because they have any connection to the players but because the team represents where they’re from/who they are and it gives them something to talk about with others in the area, which then makes them feel a part of something bigger than they are. It’s unfortunate that it has to be something so trivial and useless as football, but simple things never seem to be taken for granted.

I guess the more important question here, since this is not about anyone else, is what am I missing? Do I need to find someone to fill that void or can I do it myself? Does this person need to be someone I’m intimate with physically or just a friend? Is it multiple people I’m seeking? Multiple activities? What do I need to let go of? What do I need to embrace?

I think I do need someone to challenge me. To keep me accountable. But it’s weird because I almost feel like I have to “like like” this person and I have to feel that if I do not do impressive things that this person will not like me back. For example, I could have my mother tell me to get some writing done and I would do it or I wouldn’t because I want to write anyway, but I know that even if I don’t get any done she’s still going to love me no matter what. I guess I need someone to love me only if I’m writing. To love my writing. To perhaps not even love me at all and only love my writing. Or to love me only if I’m a writer, writing, and not just one of those people who claim their a writer but actually never write anything.

Maybe I just need deadlines.

Also since grad school ended I lack the intellectual stimulation that I need. I feel I am going stupid. I want to stay up all night arguing about post-modern theory, whether or not Barbara Kruger is brilliant, why Snookie and the like are reproducing when there are already 7 BILLION people in the world, if there will ever be a time period when more Americans have tattoos than don’t etc. etc. etc.

I need to do more things than just go to bars.

I need to make things.

At this point perhaps I should just start a creativity club—where people come over and we work on whatever we need to work on and then we share it or we don’t depending on our moods.

Or a book club.

Or both.

The mega problem is that I never have the same days off of work. So, I don’t know how to make this a regular thing. Maybe I’ll tell my boss I can’t work Monday nights since they’re the most boring nights in the entire world to work. Every Monday we (whoever we are) will unite over our own individual creativity and intellectual stimulation and make shit happen. . . who’s in?





10 Randoms: Good, Evil, and Whatever it is that I am.

1 09 2012

1.) When I’m so drunk I’m texting as slow as a grandpa on a typewriter I should probably not be texting.

2.) It would be weird to have local news anchors for parents.

3.) Even though I’m veganish I love watching America’s Test Kitchen. I think it’s because it’s so scientific. They’ve cooked this dish a million times until they know how to do it perfectly and that’s really great for lazy people who still want the best.

4.) Yes. It’s true. I’m now veganish as opposed to strictly vegan. A part of me wants to claim its due to the lack of community here–I have no other vegan friends–but maybe it actually comes down to my personality. I can’t believe in anything enough to be “strict” about it. Fine, I’m an asshole. Whatever.

5.) Strictness. I woke up today, hungover of course, and I said to myself, it’s a new month, I’m going to make new goals! Then a minute later I was like get serious Krystal you’re not going to do shit again this month. I don’t know what it will take to get my ass in gear, but I’ve decided that instead of fighting both sides–the super-type-A-accomplish-good-things side v. the self-destruct-courtney-love-lazy side I’m just going to fake-it-until-I-make-it. And try to do both.

6.) Maybe anti-depressents would help.

7.) I’ve been studying the art of lying recently, in that I watched a TedTalks on it and then read an article. I’ve been trying to determine how often I lie in comparison with the general public. I’ve always been an advocate for pure honesty, feeling that overtime honesty will get one further in life regarding general personal health. So, I say what I actually think. I think. But I’m wondering if I’ve just been lying to myself all this time and in turn lying to everyone else.

8.) I’m going to smile more and try to one nice thing a day. Or maybe every other day. (Truth or lie?)

9.) I should also mention that I got a new vibrator recently and it’s my favorite so far. . . Picobong Ako— basic clitoral vibrator. Though, now that I’ve gone to their website and witnessed how they’re trying to sell their product I may have to retract this statement. Why are they jumping with vibrators in their hands? And they all look so chipper. Weeee! Like OMG!

10.) I’m going to flip a coin and determine whether or not I will be good or evil at work today. . . heads=good tails=evil. . . tails it is. Muhahaha. Muhahaha. Excited for the cackling.





Throwing in the Love Towel.

10 08 2012

Yesterday I had what I’d like to call a “Rage Against the Machine Day” because I literally wanted to rage against the jackhammer that started chopping up asphalt at 8 in the morning and didn’t stop until 4. . . when I had to go to work. Not everyone has an 8 to 5 schedule. There are some of us who actually work the opposite of that. And this world is obviously not designed for our convenience, which is probably while most of us drink excessively and hate everything.

Speaking of hating everything–that happened again too.

It wasn’t a feeling of being tired, being tired I could handle (and do on a regular basis). It was a feeling of being fucked. No, not fucking, or fucked over or fucked up. Fucked. I thought maybe I had done something really shitty and the world was trying to balance it out, yet I have no idea what that would have been, so the whole karma belief dissipated and I realized that sometimes existing is just rough.

It was a day in which I questioned everything I believe in and started to believe in nothing. . . no, I didn’t even believe in nothing. I had no beliefs. I gave up on all the abstracts we cling to, love, loyalty, honesty, happiness. And instead I just glared at people. Wondering how they continued to move through the world every day in a seemingly content sort of way; wondering how I move through the world every day without completely destructing.

And it hasn’t gone way entirely yet either. I’m still in that thought-mode.

Even concepts that I’ve believed in for so long I’ve given up on, veganism, feminism, etc. It’s not like I’m going to go out and kill a cow or try to outlaw abortion–I just don’t care anymore. I don’t care enough to stop being vegan or to stop being a feminist, but I’m not going to put any effort into them, whatever that means.

It comes down to my whole issue with giving up on love. The big one. The abstractest abstract concept of them all. I think I’m mourning over the loss.

Okay, giving up on love is pretty vague. Here’s more of what I mean. When I think about what I need from people and what I can give, it doesn’t match up. It’s not fair to get involved with people when I’m such a mess. It’s not healthy for them or for me. When I sit here and imagine my future, there is no one I can vision getting me or even wanting to.

Maybe that’s the even bigger issue, I can’t see anyone wanting to, and that’s okay. Yeah, I’m a little sad about it, but I also want to be realistic about my existence. Why chase something that will never be?

I need accept it.

Just like my schedule doesn’t align well with jackhammers neither does my love align well with, well, anything.





Nobody. In. My. Mind. (A Man-Less May Update.)

7 05 2012

Remember that play Lysistrata, a “comedy” where the women of Greece withhold their sexuality so the Grecian men stop fighting in war? Man-less May is nothing like that. I am not doing it for a noble cause like peace or harmony—unless you consider inner peace a noble cause, then perhaps I am. I’m thinking a month may not be long enough. It hasn’t been difficult at all. Yes, it’s only been a week, but I’m a forth of the way there! I have friends who have gone months… MONTHS. That’s plural. As in more than one month and they’re not dead from it. They don’t even seem scared by it, just a little depressed—but that could be from anything.

It’s obviously not the physical that people end up being deprived of the most—though touch is vital to feel connected to humanity. What I think people end up craving is a sense of companionship, conversation, someone that relates to them, that understands them. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s highly unlikely I’m going to find those things with online dating. Even if I could I’d have to wade through so many incompatible people before I got there that I’d be exhausted and probably not even see a winner when a winner was there. I can’t even count the number of people I went on dates with, let alone talked to. And out of all those I only still talk/hang out with two. TWO. What I’m saying is that it’s too time-consuming for me to handle. Dating. Men. Dating men. Not going out on dates is really freeing up my time and I’m being partially (if not fully) productive. I’m blogging more, I’m reading a ton, I’m even making artwork.

Anyone want a Juggalowl drawing? I’m going to have a nice collection here soon.

It’s been raining and gray all day. (Does anyone get annoyed that gray is spelled two different ways for no good reason?) Anyway, I enjoy these sorts of days, when it’s cool and cloudy and everything seems to be a little more piercing, a little more alive. It makes me want to curl up and read philosophy and do crossword puzzles and drink red wine. And I will do all of those things. It will be fantastic. It’s the kind of day I don’t want to end. Because when it gets dark it will be like any other night and the magic of the sort of inner-reflection type afternoon will be gone. Tomorrow it will be sunny. Since living in Colorado I cannot recall two gray days in a row. So much not to do, so many men not to do it with. Peace.

Another Warpaint song, because it’s that kind of day.





I Can’t Be Your Hipster Tonight.

20 03 2012

Last night I decided to get back on OkCupid, just for a bit. Upon my return it has been decided that I’m not going to spend as much time on it and I’m not going to message guys back just for entertainment purposes. I am immediately deleting the ones I don’t want to talk. Mainly I’m just looking for a Jake-Gyllenhaal look-alike to become my next boyfriend (I know it’s not going to happen).

Anyway, this morning I woke up with this message in my inbox:

“I can understand your rejection of the 9-5 mentality but if you have 2 master’s degree, you should be doing sometime more/better than freelance writing and social media marketing.

But enjoy your dumpster diving and PBR tall-boys. You are very unique, just like every other hipster I’ve encountered.”

When a complete stranger calls you out on how you’re sucking at life–that’s a new low point.

Yeah dude I know I should be doing something more, thanks for reminding me. I, you know, just spend every waking hour of my life drenched in guilt about it, but hey, it’s cool, we’ve never met so please feel free to express to me how I should live.

Uuggh the asshole-card. It takes a bold man to play it but when he does it works like a charm.

Because I want to message him back and call him out on being a dickwad; he’ll respond in the opposite way so he doesn’t seem like such an ass and I will magically fall for him.

Nope.

Not going to let it happen.

It’s bothering me because it’s true. I want to be doing something more with my life but maybe I’m scared of the next step, that if I get a good full-time job it will change me into a business-casual person and those people frighten me. Or. I don’t know what. That if it’s serious and it’s not what I deep down want to be serious about I’ll keep doing it just because it’s “a job” and I need it.

Everyone says all you got to do is want it and work hard. I’m burnt out on both of those things. I wanted and I worked hard for years and years and I feel it got me nowhere (except in debt). So it’s difficult to keep doing it. What’s the point?

Maybe I’m like functionally depressed. Do those people exist? Like a functioning alcoholic– I don’t let my depression get in the way of my day-to-day though it’s preventing me from bigger and better things (except in my dream last night with a certain Denver stud muffin stallion).

Okay, okay, I’ll work on the bigger and better. Though I still think I need to work on my inner self before anything else. I’ll give myself a few more months. In the meantime, I’m deleting that message.