my two sense

dog in coat
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

there's a game i like to play. it's called "give me proper change please". it's played by buying something that comes to $5.08 and giving the cashier $5.13.

"i don't need these three pennies, ma'am", says the cashier pushing them back at me.

"yes you do. this way you can give me back a nickel."

"take your pennies. your total is $5.08. you gave me a dime."

"no - i gave you a dime and three pennies."

"but i don't need the three pennies."

this will degenerate into a hostile exchange whereby the financial constitution of a nickel is imparted.


this week, i discovered a new game while trying on a pair of shoes in chelsea. it's called "no that's not the name of a hip-hop-happening store, it's actually a city".

the clerk in the store asked me where i got my bag.

"vancouver", i replied.

he cocked his head while his mind scanned his repertoire of fashionable shops.

i gave him a few moments.

"canada." i eventually assisted.

"oh," he gave me a flutter of his hand. i could tell he still thought "vancouver" was the name of the shop, which was located in somewhere in canada.

maybe he'll get it in 2010.

central park

central park
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

i'm leaving today for an extended stint in new york. i've rented a yoga hut/astrology read-out center for a bit. i hope i manage to compile some lovely stories.

i hope internet access at the yoga hut is not going to be too trying...

i'm that loser

self portrait with eduardo
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

the first time it happened was in high school. my tiny high school of 150 students. one day everyone came to school talking about nella's (not real name - must protect the annoying) INCREDIBLE birthday party. apparently, all 148 other students were in attendance. me and one other girl were not invited.

and not only was i not invited, but everyone had managed to keep it from me so that i couldn't even show up uninvited. it was such a small school, we knew everything.

i knew it was official. i was a loser.

i attended a private international school in rome. now before you get all floody floo on me, please know that i was a military brat, and this was the posing of a lifetime. it could have been barrie, ontario or moosejaw, saskatchewan. but we got rome.

and this school was attended by kids of diplomatic parents, kids whose wealthy italian families wanted them to learn english, and kids of wealthy american families who just wanted their kids away.

and then there was me. and my sister. but i think my sister got invited to the party.

apparently, little miss perfect birthday girl had some wicked 80s band perform (could it have been haircut 100?) and sat around opening her super expensive gifts for hours, one of which was an original warhol print.


the second time it happened was during my first freelance contract. i had landed a pretty good job doing flight training at bombardier. i worked in a team of about 12 and i had organized a night out to celebrate the project's end.

i sat, waiting, at the bar with one other girl. we were on our third gimlet once everyone else finally showed up.

"sorry we're late. we went out to dinner." said one of the idiots.

"yeah, we ate PERUVIAN." said another.

the girl i was waiting with didn't just swallow her losership like i do. "what the FUCK? you all went to DINNER?" she turned to me. "do you believe this?"


the third time it happened took me by surprise. i'd figured that i'd gotten older and more comfortable in my skin. that being completely disregarded and/or forgotten would not bother me as much.

i walked into my coffee shop (see july 27) one weekend.

"what are you doing here krista? why aren't you with everyone else?" asked vito, the coffee guy.

again. "what do you mean?"

"everyone's doing the walk for breast cancer. why aren't you there?"

"no one TOLD me!"

"oh. [awkward pause] coffee?"

you know, i (sort of) have breasts. me and the ladies would have walked for breast cancer.

"everyone" came by the coffee shop when they were done. all pink and be-teeshirted. i glared at them.

ta-tas [redux]

okay.

my sister made me feel bad about blogging about "topless girl petting horse in times square", so i took her picture down.

in other news, around the same time, someone put roofies in my and two of my friend's drinks at rodeo bar (luckily not enough to knock us out, only enough to make us forget the better part of the evening. ladies: watch your drinks!) and we met this young woman who claimed to be malcolm x's daughter.

one of my friends got all misty eyed. "wow, i can't belive i just met the daughter of malcolm x and betty shabazz..." he dabbed his eyes with a margarita-soaked napkin.

another friend rolled her eyes. "malcolm x's daughter. riiiiight. this is new york. everybody's got to be somebody..."

onward/upward

couple of things you should look into:

my boyfriend's brother and wife are headed off to china tomorrow to adopt a baby girl. they're bringing us home a little niece... jim is keeping a blogorific diary of their adventures.

my cousin's son and his radical stem cell surgery to repair his fractured spine. what an inspiring story! AND he was in "bermuda idol"! who knew anyone in our family could sing!

egad!

you think your sh*t don't stink?

water lilies
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

"...and there's a piece of waste stuck on the bathroom wall. i filed a complaint with human resources." she heralded.

"what do you mean 'waste'?"

"human waste. excrement."

this is why i hate office jobs. job jobs. people are just gross, gross things. i hate to be around them: the hoi polloi.

i remember my last office job. as uninspiring as it was, i was forced to develop a crush on the custodial engineer, brian. he had his name, in a script font, emblazoned on his uniform. i looked forward to brian sightings at 1:15, when he came to empty my recycling bin. presumably into the garbage.

"hi brian..." i'd say shyly, in between bites of my microwavable chicken madras. i probably had some on my face.

i remember one of our conversations:
Brian: How are you?
Me: Tired.
B: Late night or early morning?
M: Neither. I'm just always tired.
B: Vacation coming up?
M: No. I already had that. I have nothing to look forward to.

so you see? i so totally charmed this man. i charmed his damn pants off.

let’s also take a look at one of our early morning exchanges:

i walked into the women's bathroom, and to the furthest stall possible. i consider it the one least used, and hence, the least infected. but that morning i was met, most horrifically, with a toilet replete with poo.

"VILE!" i screamed. "BEASTS!"

i knew brian was on his way to do his morning rounds. because of my love for my custodial technician and my need to protect him from the odious behavior of femalekind, i covered my face with my sleeve and took a flying, blind leap at the toilet handle.

the toilet started to flush, but instead of everything going down, it started to rise. i screamed louder and louder with each inch. once the water, and the floating poos, reached the top, the water started to spill over the side, and not unlike a nasty car crash, i couldn't pull my eyes away from the disaster that was to follow.

a poo started to make its way over the toilet seat towards the floor. and right when this happened, the rising water subsided. the poo was left perched on the toilet seat.

i screamed a final time. the perched poo sat, quite breached and quite contentedly, on the toilet seat. i ran from this house of repugnancy.

and who was waiting outside?

brian. of course.

i looked at him. i pointed to the door and wanted to say, "i didn't do THAT!"

but my tiny pea brain realized that this would be the first thing that someone who actually did do THAT would say. i just slumped my shoulders and walked away. defeated. the perched poo trounced me.

i know brian thinks, still to this day, that i perched that poo.

on death and dying II

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

twice now i've learned of sudden and unexpected deaths. both times, my tiny little pea brain slips into some strange and malfunctioning mode: the "you're kidding" mode. in a fraction of a second, i realize that if what i'm being told is true, the person is gone forever. a sentence makes its way to the tip of my tongue while i start to process this information: "you're joking, right?"

then i start reprimanding myself for thinking such stupid thoughts. of course they're not joking. they're dealing with this news of a death and the task of telling me and all i can do is start to deflect because i'm starting the first of the five stages of grief.

so i alternate, in my tiny pea brain, between thinking how i’m soon going to be saying something like, "gawd, you really had me going there..." and scolding myself for being so weak that i had to fabricate a story to deal with the news.

when i learned that my ex-boyfriend died, i actually said it. and i felt like a dufus right away.

"you're kidding me, right?" said my tiny pea brain.

"i wouldn't make something like that up."

"i know you wouldn't. i know."


this time i bit my tongue, even though i wanted it to be a bad, horrible, unfunny joke. all i could muster was a "what?"

once my query was answered and the circumstanced explained, i searched my empty pea brain for something to say. something meaningful. something to keep the pain at bay. something to start the healing.

i had nothing.

i had to be honest. "i don't know what to say." the words felt grey. like they had stones tied to them. and they were dragging themselves, not unlike robert deniro in the mission, through some dense forest and out of my mouth.

"that's all right krista. you've said everything already."

beget

Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

i recently took a trip to visit my grandparents with the specific intention of sitting down with my grandfather and getting his war stories. he has such an interesting past, i don't want to just let it fizzle out. nor do i want it to be in vain.

i wanted to collect his stories, and hopefully compile them. i think we're a pretty complacent populace - very easily having forgotten what others had to endure in order to give us the cushy lifestyle that we've come to assume.

i set up my camera to record audio.

"grandpa, i want to talk to you about the war."

"what? there was no woman!"

although he is a tad hard of hearing, he did hear me correctly and did respond fittingly. he was quick on the defensive because there had been recent allegations, amongst family members, that he had impregnated a woman before he met the first of his series of wives. i did want to get into the story of this alleged half-aunt, but not right off the bat.

"i never said anything about a woman," i mollified.

"it was '39. germans occupied the whole region..." he began.

her name was lee. she was six months pregnant with my grandfather's child when her husband, who was presumed to be dead, came home from the war. with malaria. my grandfather had to leave. the husband stayed and raised the girl.

"it was wartime." he said.