I'm clearly drunk. And I clearly adore you. That's why I was petrified. That's why I ran out of the room. Can't you see?

I'm still immature. I still kick marinara sauce over neighbors' doors. I hate that. Today was going so well, and I don't think I have the courage to make tomorrow the same.

february stars

Today I was prompted to look through one of my photo albums - I'm actually doing it right now. I adore pictures - especially these of my latest trip to England. That was a fabulous trip. I was happy, I didn't fight with my parents - I found that always being in a positive mood and excited about seeing things, even when your dad is grumpy, tends to make him considerably less grumpy. Even though I feel a bit guilty for going to England, a "safe" place, for my study abroad, I doubt that I'd be feeling guitly if I were anywhere but Macalester. I love England with all my heart. To live there without having to worry about jobs or real life just quite yet - it will be fabulous.

I love photos. I want to share my photo albums with everybody. Is this self-centered? I like to look at other people's photos too - as long as they are not just pictures of them and their friends - up close face shots - because thsoe are boring. I want stories behind them.

So I just finished my big history essay. It will probably be up for some editing tomorrow, but I'm essentially done with all gross stuff until spring break. I have editing, a couple history packets to read tomorrow, and a 2 page 'Principles of Art' paper that will be a piece of cake.

It's funny - the first thing that I'm going to do after I step off of the plane is get a haircut. That's such a lovely college student at home thing to do. Three more days and then I'm going to see my little brother, finish my fun book, sing Les Miserables in the car with Michelle, go see Evita on stage for the first time, do another painting, read Richard Brautigan, see friends in San Francisco...

my user did it

This is the truth: I am a romantic. One of those hopeless ones.

But here's another truth: I love romantic love in stories and movies, where it is real enough to be possibly real but when you really think about it, you know that sort of stuff doesn't happen. People don't talk like that. Feelings aren't really so amazing and easy to articulate. See, if I saw any of the stuff in books and movies and television in front of my eyes, three dimensional in front of me, I'd laugh and roll my eyes. That's just what I'd do, even though I'd secretly long for it myself. But only if I were a fictional character, or else those shoes wouldn't fit me. You see? I don't understand what I just wrote.

My 'to do' list is still missing but I think I've got a handle on things. 750 words down on the essay, 1000 more to go. Schwing.

today i walk alone

I love it when bands like Green Day (whose name refers to the first day that one smokes pot) have songs that are 4:20 long.

I lost my TO DO BEFORE SPRING BREAK list. I was making decent progress on it and was very excited to cross out 'final architecture model' and 'read history packet' today but when I couldn't find it I felt hopelessly lost. It's one of the first times I've ever really committed to a 'to do' list and now that it's left me, I doubt I can ever commit again.

I've been busy. But bored. Throw me what you've got.

vote for anne harris on tuesday march 15. please. she's my aunt's friend. your wildest dreams will come true if you vote for anne.

supposed to call our congressman about cafta tomorrow and the worst activist ever,
kfizzle.

life goes easy on me...most of the time

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on."
- Robert Frost

I'm glad I am forgetting. But the fact is, I thought hardily about the fact that I was forgetting. I remembered that I was forgetting. Isn't that a futile thought, then?

So many people here are so smart - I feel a complete and utter fool in my history class. Matt came up with this theory that the amount of knowledge in that classroom is directly proportional to the amount of pounds that they pack. Well, this is only the case with the really heavy people. There are four large people in the class - two of them being the teachers - and they're ridiculous. Granted, the teachers are over 50, one of the students has already graduated and is 28, and one of them is a senior. They're the extreme examples, however - we talked about post-modernism thought in the study of history and all I could think of when the idea finally *clicked* was that painting by Magritte - with the depiction of a pipe underneath which is written, in French, "This is not a pipe." And I wanted to shout it out to the world - I GET it because I GET art, but that's nothing to brag about or discuss.

Why am I a history major? The passion I used to have for it, for the stories, is almost gone. I hate looking at primary documents and analyzing them. No, that's not true. I don't hate history. But I don't plan on doing anything with it once I'm done with Macalester, so what's the point?

PSHAW. Giggle giggle giggle. PSHAW.

I'm still quite down. It's this aching inside that sort of makes itself known whenever anybody asks how I am and I say "fine" or "pretty good" because it is just a big fat lie. I am lost. I am in still waters pathetically dog paddling, because that is the only kind of swimming I can do. (I mean, not really, but metaphorically, of course.)

mother said straight ahead not to delay or be misled

I was working at my desk this afternoon, sun streaming through the skylight. Suddenly a shadow flitted over my head and I looked up, thinking it was a plane or a bird. It was a plastic bag. I was listening to 'O Mimi tu piu non torni' from 'La Boheme' (one of the most gorgeous songs in the world) and it struck me that I was.... stuck in 'American Beauty!' Before I knew it, the plastic bag wavered back and forth three or four times and then disappeared.

In other news, the re-inflammation of tendonitis in my right knee has not gone away after a week. It is sore almost all day long. My mom said 'I told you so,' and I said, 'You're right. You did.' What she had told me was to keep stretching everyday or else it would come back. But come on, I didn't even stretch when I was skating every day so how did she expect me to stretch when I wasn't skating at all?

These are the three things that make me the most angry:

1. Losing things. Nary do I ever get so painfully angry as when I misplace something. May it be an earring, a checkbook, a coupon, or my car keys, I become somewhat dysfunctional when I am aware of something missing that I have been looking for. I run around the house/dorm room, crying, "If i were my earring/checkbook/coupon/car keys, where would i be?" or "where the fuck is my fucking earring/checkbook/coupon/car keys?" Nothing can pull my mind from this one missing item. It is absolutely disgraceful and disheartening. It is also dismal. I hate losing things, especially when I had JUST seen them and then I put them down somewhere and a minute later can't find them. I really hate losing things.

2. Getting lost while driving. Michelle thinks I'm scary when this happens. I probably am. I hate wasting time and gas turning around, stopping at stoplights, making illegal U-turns, waiting to make legal U-turns just to backtrack and go where I've already gone or perhaps get even more lost and far away from my ultimate destination. I go, "fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck" and after I've found the place, I feel really badly about saying all those "fucks." I get so angry that I turn down the music really low and won't talk at all except to ask "didn't we already pass this tree?" I hate getting lost. I've gotten lost about three times trying to get to my brother's house in Long Beach. It's not even that hard to get to. I feel like such an idiot when I get lost driving.

3. The fact that Audrey Tautou is starring in the movie version of 'The Da Vinci Code.' Because I ADORE and RESPECT(ed) Audrey and I loathe 'The Da Vinci Code.'

PS. I found my 'Garden State' DVD AND my roommate.

I pose one question: who has my 'Garden State' DVD???

like a bird stealing bread

For some reason, my disloyal brain and psyche decided to cook up a horribly painful dream last night. I've had bad dreams before, scary ones - but they were unreal. They took place in unknown places or involved ghosts or monsters who could run faster than me. But this one - this related directly to an event of the night before, and while some of it was foreign to me, the core of it, the part that hurt, was so possibly real. It was jarring and disconcerting. I woke up way too early, 7am after going to bed at 3, and felt pretty ill. This feeling lasted a lot of the day.

Well, you know. Here's to Monday. This week my goal is to make every day productive in some way. And this productivity will make me happy. And then I will be happy.

who loves the sun, who cares if it shines

Last weekend was probably the best weekend of my college career.

This weekend was probably the worst. I'll get over it, right?

i win

The other day I opened up my impromptu purchase of Diet Coke and looked under the cap. It said, 'You win a 20 oz. Coke product.'

I think I will pick up that 20 oz. Diet Coke with Lime today.

I am going home for spring break. My little brother has been depressed. I hate to hear it.

sheep go to heaven

There are days when I am really busy - I run around like a mad, grumpy chicken - snapping other people's heads off and pretending like I am really important and stuff.

Then there are days when I have no priorities and I wander up and down the hallway, watch TV, and wander between random rooms and spots on campus. I wonder as I wander - what am I doing with my life? (By life I dont' mean LIFE. That would just be silly, whereas what I'm thinking is not silly at all and very serious.) What could I be doing to further the happiness of my life while I am wandering doing nothing? And while I'm perfectly 'happy' on busy days, when I can cross things off of lists, I wonder during my wandering days about the significance of the items that were crossed off.

It's a cycle. It's not bad. I'm not unhappy. I'm going home for spring break, I think. I would not go home if my little brother were not there.

I think sibling love is the best kind of love in the world. The end of Catcher in the Rye makes me ridiculously happy. I love my little brother so much that I would shout it out to the world. I will probably tell you tomorrow how great he is. My love for him is absolutely unconditional - there is no question, and if there was a gun aimed at us, I'd probably jump in front of him. I remember I used to hang out with my brother on weekends during highschool instead of the friends who I had so much less in common with. We had our inside jokes. We had poop jokes, bathroom jokes. People think it's hard that he's 6 years younger than me, but, oh, it makes it so easy for me. I don't want a brother who is in the same stage of life as me. My favorite room in the house is his room - with the toy train track running around the wall near the ceiling, the X-Wing fighter hanging from the ceiling, the stuffed animals still in his bookcase, the whiteboard that we draw Trogdor and Homestar Runner characters on... does he still have his Toy Story comforter? I want to show everybody his room. I was there when the train track was being built, I was there when he and Dad painted the desk, I was there when he got the Star Wars glow-in-the-dark stickers and I've got several Rollercoaster Tycoon games saved on his computer. I love playing computer games with my little brother in his room. He likes it too. When he is playing Warcraft, he doesn't want me to leave, so I sit on his bed watching or flipping through his Lego magazines.

This is what I would miss if I never went home.

I am restless. I want to live in so many different ways, in so many different places. I want to say I am from California, Minnesota, London, Australia, China, Norway, Chicago, Nice, Florence, Scotland, Barcelona. I want the workers at Cahoot's to know my name and know that I do not like coffee and that I think they should work on their Chai latte because it is not very good (don't tell, but Starbucks' is better.) I want to work with big cats, with clothing, with books and writing, with photography. I want to work with houses, flowers, canvases, and ice cream. I want people to know my name and think fondly on it. I don't want people to avoid the name Kristina and all of its forms because it reminds them of me. I suppose this is what all people want. Not all people want to see good movies, though. So maybe what I just made was a very broad, generic, and false statement.

as fond o' yo as yo are o' me, kfizzle.

make it hot

i have so much to say and talk about and ponder and muse upon, explain, extrapolate, exterminate... but i have no time to do so.

or perhaps it is when i open up this window anything that i can say renders every thought i have inconsequential and immature.

i rediscovered mirah. she is helping fill the music void right now.

x-posted to every aspect of my life.

'and so it is, just like you said it would be. life goes easy on me most of the time.'

This weekend looks possibly awesome. Let's make it so.

I am drained like a pot of noodles.

Everything is going so fast.

This weekend will consist of drinking, I feel.

It will also go by quickly.

Starting my new guilty pleasure book,
badger.

I'm upset; happiness is not a fish that you can catch.

You can, however, catch a lot of fish when you try. And catching these fish fills up your day. And when you're through with the day, you have evidence of physical sustenance, and can convince yourself you had no time for emotional sustenance.

I am tired. My back is sore, my hands, my arm. And yet I don't think I've had more of a fulfilling day this year. It's really quite surprising how many things I was able to fit in - three trips to the video editing room, two hours in the woodshop, one hour of television, one episode of Pee Wee's Playhouse, one and a half hours of hookah smoking/flyer making, one hour of KAADATT meeting. . . three hours of class . . .

Idleness is the key to unhappiness. I will be busy again tomorrow. We need more cat litter. As much as I love my kittens, I did not think clearly about how much work they would be. I need help, sometimes. I need a hug, sometimes.

I saw lots of different people today. Friends from all avenues. That is very refreshing.

Because Michelle and I are sooooouuul mates.

urgininthenight: what do you have to lose aside from your dignity?
myvegetablelove: don't mock me now i pray
myvegetablelove: it's hard enough i've lost my pride
urgininthenight: hahahaha
urgininthenight: you let your foreman send me away! yes you were there and turned aside

baby it's breakin' my heart that you're leavin'

I have fallen in love. With Chicago. I knew that I as at the very least unhealthily attracted to it last fall, but now I know that the feelings I felt were real. Chicago, you are my soulmate. Come to me and we will hold hands and have picnics in the park. We will close our eyes and smile with the sun in our faces and skip rocks across your lake.

I dreaded being away. Now I can barely stand being back. The long list of things to do, things to worry about unraveled as I held the string and drove to Chicago - it's been left along highway 90/94. But somehow, like some horror, haunting story, I come back to find everything sitting neatly in a pile on my desk.

I like buildings. I like the train that runs above and through the city. I like the sculptures, the art. I like the water. I like the streets. I like the parks. I lik the big bulbuous bulbs on Michigan. I like the castle church. I like the wide sidewalks and the sleet-like snow. I like running at the pigeons. I love the old giant black rock. I like the gigantic pillars. The only things close to you, Chicago, are London and Rome.

Fair trade? Fair trade. Fulfill something else when I am empty. Make trade fair. Food not bombs. It's so big, and I can't even fix myself.

What should I think of as I move into the second part of the second semester of my second year? I have been alone for too many sets of twos.

"to me you are perfect and my wasted heart will go on loving you"

why is absence so heavy to bear?

model-making materials, a swift and steady change in character, annotated bibliography, perfecting line scale drawings, model-making -

i don't usually freak out, but i'm freaked out.

i remember there was mist

I think the word that we've all come to embrace is the word 'aimless.' To many friends I have spoken to, this word embodies them. And so it embodies me.

Dear friends and lovers, tomorrow I head to Chicago for a United Students for Fair Trade conference. Parts of me are both terrified and excited. Kristina the Activist has not yet emerged, so I doubt that she will ever exist. While Kristina the Pretend Activist rides in a long car ride to a place where she may or may not have a bed, Kristina the Student loses sleep/takes too much sleep over the inabilities of her brain at solving physical, logical problems. It's a hard knock life, yo.

And while these more serious aspects of life are battling and knocking each other out in one hemisphere, in the other, this green-eyed beast with a heavy heart sits in a corner on a chair with piles and piles slung over it.