somedays i feel as if i am running out of my hutzpa.
do i have the charisma to pull this off, do i only write about negative obsessive thoughts of failure and the whole world reads them and goes, whoa dude stop aborting peoples good feelings for you.

so on those days my mantra becomes the old adage "fake it till you make it"

over and over in my brain, I can do this, I can do this!

the road is never easy but always interesting

lately i have thought less of my trip, and more about distractions, boys being the specific distraction of the moment.
I mean I barely have time to work on anything, and when I hit a tough spot, dealing with some sponsors in Mexico (I'll write a blog on this), some workshops that were guaranteed money falling through, and just the overwhelemed-ness of the trip my mind turns off and turns to other things.
Boys.

I turn to boys, and really at my age I need a man.

Luckily the Universe has put some sort of safety device on me and I crash and burn before any sort of take off with these fellas.

I meet a nice, handsome, wonderful boy that turned out to really be a boy, a little young for me, an army veteran (weird), oh and a junkie...
Now those that know me know I love me an addict, I'm not sure why or how but I did have insight on this during two conversations yesterday. Basically addicts are really interesting, they've been there and back several times, they are quixotic and wild, they are like a drug to me and boy how I respond to their chaos.
And as much as I am responding to this boy and wanting to leap into that chaos I am older and hopefully wiser and am trying to purge him from my chemically swollen brain. Currently methadone is his girlfriend and I will not play second fiddle to that.

Then I had a long time yo-yo lover bite me in the ass by erasing me from his FB life and putting one of my tattoos into his new girlfriends tattoo.
Now who would do that?
I mean it is sick and twisted and hurtful in so many ways.
I have written him off forever.
I almost wrote to him to tell him of my eternal hate, but was talked down by those that love me that have a clearness in their heads.
Just walk away, stop playing the game they said, and yes is my response, I have, I just want to kick him in the balls one last time that fucker deserves my wrath.
But they were right and I did and I am comforted in the fact that he has to live his life and for that I do feel sorry for him, pathetic twisted creature that he is.

Wow so there was that rant, guess I'm a little angry still.

BUT the whole point was that the Universe in all its infinite wisdom is saying to me stop with this, if you keep coming at me I will send you curve ball after curve ball and we all know you can't hit. I have a road for you where you will be daily amazed, this is your duty, your destiny.
I never believed in predestination, but this may change me.

So on I go not scolded by the world but placed back on the path

cypress tree

today i fell bent, defeated, sick. I feel gnarled and twisted like a cypress tree. Obstinate roots refusing to give, all my strength is gone but my roots have no choice, anchored in rocks, unable to let me go.

some days...

i look at myself in the mirror and ask myself what the fuck am I really doing?

I've spent the last 5 years rebuilding my life, rebuilding my heart. I have a great job, great apartment, I have $, I am comfortable, the only thing I'm missing is a partner.

And just like that I'm tossing it all away.

I know this journey will be a success, and it's been my dream, but...

Sometimes I am... afraid is the wrong word, but...hmm I don't know what is the right word. Perhaps it is fear.

all choked up

i'm starting another adventure, another blog, and honestly i feel all choked up. It's kinda a big deal, and there's a lot of pressure from a lot pf people all telling me what to do. i am no longer trusting me, trusting my creative process.
the daunting crevasse of "don't fuck it up" looms below me.

i need you blog.

i need you Ginger, more than I've ever needed you before, an open, empty sounding board that no one reads where I can tell the truth about my travels.

~sigh~

it feels lovely to be back...

dirty little secret

i rarely think of this blog.
but then i do, with some chagrin.

this is where i hang my badly washed unmentionables to dry.

if you read this blog please don't share it with others, and for the love of God please don't share it with me!

these are the thoughts that need to exit, this is where i take my hamster for a jog.
late in the night, away from prying eyes.

it is a selfish, self indulgent avenue.

i almost return to that 12 year old self cramming bad poetry into a garish covered journal. dreaming that at 12 i had lived and had something to say.
i had so many words then but little thoughts or experience.

now i have more thoughts and experience, i have words, but i think it is my hands that are broken.

disappointment

okay it is late.
the whiskey has gotten to me and it seems like the word of the moment is "disappointment".

let's all sit with that one for a moment.

dis-a-fucking-pointment.

what is that you say?
if you don't know then you're not human are you.
i know that i am not special in feeling the slings and arrows of disappointment. As a species we all feel it acutely at some point and time in our lives, and my acutely is today(give or take a few years).

i sometimes feel like i am sitting in a laundry mat, with the old fashion washers, you know the ones with the big clear fish bowl bubble doors made of glass where you can watch the suds and underwear surface for a moment and then pathetically be dragged down again simply to be replaced by another pair.

well imagine that but instead of a load of unmentionables i brought all those disappointing boys that i've disposed off.
i throw them in, add the soap, the quarters, i push start and i wait to see which one surfaces. maybe this time it will be different, maybe this time they will be enough, i will be enough.
i wait for the old, i try to wash, to mend, to...be human and to care about them, to leave a place in my heart, who knows what the future holds. There is one thing i can tell you that when that old lover/hanger on comes back to the surface they are just as bad or worse than before.
i was chided by an old lover that i was fucked up because i never remain friends with my ex's. he was wrong, he always thought he was oh so right, but in this he was wrong, i am friends with 90% of them, including him, the problem is that with being friends they all tend to resurface and try to rekindle. the simple fact that i haven't torn out their existence and shown it to them keeps them begging under the table for scraps. not all of them mind you, but more than i'd like.
where does this fucked up sacredness of being friends with your ex's come about? it really is a mess.

the majority of my ex's were nice enough guys at bad times, that equals bad times, that equals they treat me like shit and then later want to make it up, and are offended when i say no.

i'm sick of that shit.
i am sick of knowing my own worth but living in a world that doesn't seem to agree with it.

i'm tired of boys that pretend to be my friends so that they can get into my pants and break my heart.

i am so disappointed in the quality of humans i meat on an everyday basis, and all i can wonder is what is so wrong with me that i feel this way?

true story.

last night i had dinner with an old lover, why? because we are "friends" and i am a retard.

we made a mess of sleeping with each other for some time till i finally put my foot down and said fuck the dumb shit, he really didn't have much to say on the subject and then that was it, we were friends.
then 8months later he professes his love to me. no build up, no trying to woo me, it was more like an amber alert. sudden, obscene, in your face sort of declaration of love.
i was embarrassed, uncomfortable, but well mannered so i let him down as nice as can be. isn't that the right thing to do?
so we remain friends, he dogs my steps, he makes me feel bad, almost 1 year later he is still making me feel bad, even thought he is trying to move on with his life by sleeping with other girls and tormenting me with his obscure emotions, lucky fucking me, i get all the work and none of the fun!

i digress.

so last night we are in his car, always where i become the emotional hostage, and yet again he has a confession to make, something he must get off his chest that has to do with me, with him, with HIS emotions.
and what might it be?
his prowess in bed, or his lack of it while we were together.
i was there, the sex was bad, it was all a disapointment, do we both need a reminder?

really i've never felt cheaper.
what the fuck has my life been reduced to?
i have become a ding on his sexual credit report and now he is worried about it.

and all i can really ask myself is how the fuck did i get here and when do i get to go home?

i mean really?
really?

what do these actions say?

1. kristine i really care about you and your emotions
2. i am very selfish and want reassurance that i am a good fuck, i want validation
3.none of the above

you can choose but i am pretty sure the torment i have been witness to has really nothing to do with me. it is all him.
my untenability is the key. maybe i should sleep with him and he would leave me alone.
which i will never do, but i am so tired.

i am trying not to become bitter, to become jaded, but every nice man that comes my way i look for his faults.
where are they?
what's it going to be this time?

i feel so old behind the eyes.
i feel so tired.
i want nothing to do with it.
the game that no one wins.