The sultry depths of summer

Just a small view inside my brain at the moment. The night air is hot and close, wrapping around me like the arms of a long-absent lover. There's heat lingering in every surface around me. I find myself drifting away on daydreams of cool forest mists, gentle breezes, and soft touches, brushing across my skin. I'd love to be in the mountains now, swimming in a cool, spring-fed pond or just lying under a tree in the shade. It's sundress weather, made for traipsing barefoot over damp grass with your sandals in your hand. Now if only I had someone to do all these things with me. Any volunteers?

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Whee, change.

I got totally sick of my hair. So it's now bright pink.








The very front was supposed to stay bleached white, but the pink bled a bit when I was rising it out, so it's kind of a pale pink, and the back I dyed black.







It's gotten all kinds of comments and complements so far. I think it's one of my favorite haircuts ever.

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No end in sight.

God, where did I get all these clothes? I feel like I could do laundry for the next week and not be done.

I'm feeling kind of overwhelmed and frustrated with myself today, and I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm just coming down from the ridiculous high of this weekend. I'm successfully navigating the urge to eat it better though, so I'm proud of myself. I'm stronger than the situation, even if I don't always realize it. Thank you to everyone who has listened or helped or held me or let me vent about things. I love you guys.

XOXO

Crys

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Whee!

Spent all day yesterday at the con in Phoenix. Had WAY too much fun. Talked to Wil Wheaton for a bit in the morning. Managed to completely nonplus him and then crack him the hell up when I asked him to sign my boob.




Missy and I spent about 2/3 of the afternoon reading under trees and rolling down hills. Then in the evening we went in and watched Wil speak. It was awesome and hilarious. I've not had this much fun in quite a while. I'm now exhausted, bruised and achy and still in a really good mood.

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A brief history of me.

I grew up in a small town. There were abou 7000 people there in total, and I knew all the kids my age, because there was only one school. I was in the advanced class all the way through. I finished all the math books up through 5th grade in the 1st grade. I read voraciously. My one really close friend, Ingrid, and I would walk home from choir practice together. I had a navy blue scooter, a bright yellow bike with bright pink wheels and a banana seat, a tire swing... All the normal small town kid toys. I listened mostly to classical music, especially the Nutcracker Suite. I was blonde, and funny, and no one liked me.

People made fun of me for reading. For hanging out with the boys too much. For having lesbian parents. For wearing cheap or secondhand clothes. People made fun of my weight, which, looking back, I can't understand. I wasn't a fat kid. I may not have been some sort of twig, but I was just kind of avarage looking.

When I finished 4th grade, mom had had enough of the tiny town and the teasing, and the rocks through our windows and the vandalism to her car. She had had enough of me being teased. She decided to move to Tucson so that she could get a better job and so that her precious little girl didn't end up 16, pregnant, and a high school drop-out.

When we got to Tucson, the first school I went to I wasn't in the advanced class. The classes had all been full when I applied that summer, so they said "We will let you know when there is an opening" and sent me off to a normal school. And for the first time ever, I started making friends. I met Karen when we were both riding our bikes. She and I were close, or I thought we were. She also had lesbian parents, and that was a huge deal for me. I didn't feel like a complete freak anymore. I felt like someone understood. Then she started making fun of my weight and my clothing.

I had no idea what to do with her. None. Fortunately, at school, I had started to make friends with the adorable red-haired skater boy who sat accross from me. Matt was his name. He was funny, and sweet, and kept offering to show me tricks on his skateboard. We had a lot of fun. You can imagine, then, how upset I was when they transfered me to a new school. To the self-contained all-day advanced classes they had promised my mother I would get.

The new school was both hell for me and a lot of fun for me. I loved what I was learning. I joined the environmental club and established a recycling program at our school. I read books that most people my age would never have heard of. I did logic problems and algebra with my class. I loved what I was learning.

I had no friends. Even the outcast, picked-on smart kids need someone to pick on, I guess, and that someone was me. They made fun of my clothes and my hair. They called me fat. They threw things at me. No one wanted to talk to me at all. I withdrew into myself further and further every day. By the time we moved halfway through the next year and I had to transfer schools again, I was refusing to do my homework. I was coming home, sitting around eating, and refusing to do anything except play with my dog. I was miserable.

The new school was ok, I guess. People made fun of me for not wearing a bra, for being too chubby, for just being "weird" but I managed to make friends there, so I didn't notice so much. But that's because the worst was coming next year.

In 7th grade I started at the Jr. High. My Algebra teacher yelled at me for not doing my work. He also threatened the class and talked more about football than math. My friends evaporated. I had two friends outside of school and no friends in school. People whispered behind my back. Everything I wore there were two or three boys who said "God, I can't believe she wore that, you can see her fat" or something similar about it. If they didn't say that, then some girl would make fun of me for it being cheap or secondhand.

Then I met a few people who didn't seem to care. They were the stoner kids, and I so wasn't one of them, but they didn't care what I wore or looked like. They just wanted my help passing their classes. I was so desperate to fit in, I did it.

In 8th grade, I had a science teacher who was amazing. Fresh out of Brown, she was funny and dorky and had a lot of fun in her classes. She was excited about science. I loved her class. I got to show off there, and I had never been allowed to show off anywhere before. It was amazing. I will love that woman until the day I die.

High school started off better. I had made some friends at the skating rink over the summer. I spent probably 6 to 8 hours per day all summer skating and had lost weight. I felt good enough about myself that I stopped caring what people thought. I dyed my hair purple. I wore the things that made me smile. I was happier than I had ever been. I made friends. Mostly geeks like myself, people who would rather read or play a game than go out and play some sport. I started going to Magic tournaments. I had my first boyfriend, my first kiss... It was an amazing time to be me.

I was enjoying it, mostly. But my best friend ditched me for being too nerdy, and I still got snide comments in the halls from people who were making fun of my weight or my clothing. I shrugged them off, for the most part, but I remember thinking "I'm a size 9, every muscle I have is toned, and I feel really good about myself. How am I still too fat?" I wish I had ever gotten an answer.

I'm not sure I would have made it through if it weren't for him. I hope he knows who he is. We dated. No, that's the wrong word. That sounds so very stupid for what we had. We were lovers and best friends. We walked together and laughed together and played games together. He got my stupid jokes. He taught me things I didn't know, and I'd like to think I taught him things. He got me listening to Bad Religion. I would go to his house, have dinner with him and his parents, and then we'd go walk somewhere, all four of us. Usually the mall, because it was so close to their house.

I already knew that it was ok to be me. That I was funny and special in my own way. He taught me that being who I was was sexy. That there was no need for compromise just to be liked. He taught me to hold my head up and roll my eyes at the people who lashed out at me because they didn't understand. He taught me to never stand in the blast radius.

I know now that he forgave me for being rash and 16 (17?) and yelling at him over nothing and basically breaking both of our hearts. I wish I had forgiven myself quite so easily. We became friends again after the pain had died down to a managable level, but I think I always felt guilty. I always felt like I had destroyed everything.

When he moved away in 1997, I was crushed. More crushed than I had any right to be as someone who was just his friend at that point, but I knew why I was feeling that way, and it made perfect sense. I was losing one of the people I loved most in the world. One of my best friends. Of course I was sad. I was over-joyed when he called me about 2 months later to talk to me about the girl he was seeing. We talked a lot, he and I. For someone on the other side of the country, I knew a lot about his life, and of course the opposite was true. Until 1999.

Mom decided she and I had to move. She wanted to move in with her girlfriend, and I had to find a place to live. She gave me 2 months to get a job, find a place and get the hell out. I freaked out about it. I was 19, and terrified. I had no idea what I was going to do. I ended up packing really quickly, refusing to talk to my mother for weeks or even months, and losing a lot of what was important to me. Including his number. Somehow, in the moving process, my address book disappeared. I have no idea if I left it, or if it fell out of a box, or mom had it with her and she lost it. I just know it was gone. I lost the number, and by extension, I lost him. He couldn't call the house anymore, because mom and I had both moved.

I found him again recently. He has grown up into this amazing, beautiful person. He still puts up with me. Sometimes, when we talk, it feels like nothing at all has changed. It's nice to talk and feel like it's making sense to the other person. I really missed him.

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Tuesdays with Chelle.

Went to Target today with Chelle. I got some seriously obnoxious socks and a really amazing blue eyeshadow. J. wanted to know if the 80s puked on me. I guess he doesn't like my outfit.

D. and I kind of worked things out the other day, but now I'm wondering if it was just talk for him. I guess time will tell. In the meantime I swing between happy, annoyed, and horribly sad.

I'm working a lot on art this week. It's a good feeling to be getting it out of my head and down on the canvas. I need to do this a lot more often.

I spent a while sort of brain-dumping at J. the other night. I mean literally at him, since he was busy and on the phone. It was a huge relief. I didn't even really need input, the sad just needed out, I guess. I'm making progress slowly. I hope.

XOXO

Crys

P.S. if you haven't seen it yet, you need to read this: http://www.cracked.com/article_15816_5-most-horrifying-bugs-in-world.html

It's a bit harsh for the squeamish, but it's a fun read. Plus I'm good friends with the author, and I'm pretty sure some of you are too. (hint: xvbones/spookshow)

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Pizza for breakfast.

Went to C. & M.'s last night for bonfire, crazy midori drinks and silliness. Never actually made it home. We all talked with T. and basically laughed until I crashed somewhere around 3 or 4 and we're still at C. & M.'s, so I busted out the laptop. We're most likely here for the day since D. has game with the usual crew this evening.

Something about sitting in the dark, with the chill of a winter night at your back is one of the most comforting feelings in recent memory. I miss just being able to sit and laugh like that. Our group has become slowly more and more wired until every trip to the coffee shop lately has become a group of people, sitting around a table, laptops out, scarcely talking. We were always so disturbingly close before, and spent entirely too much time laughing about, well, everything. I'm just not at all sure when the change came, but I blame Daniel and his serious WoW addiction. He's basically never more than three feet from his laptop. It's driving me a bit nuts, to be honest.

In total rabid squeeing fangirl news, Wil Wheaton is coming to the Phoenix comicon at the end of the month. I've been bouncing off the walls since I saw it on his blog. Wil Wheaton is basically my major retarded fangirl crush. He has been since ST:TNG, and his writing just drives the point home for me. He's articulate, funny, and as much of a dork as I am. This should be a lot of fun. C. was planning on going anyway, so I'll have a ride. Being this excited about a convention in Phoenix may be the dorkiest thing I've ever done, but I can live with that.

Working today on the Stargazer lily. It's one of my favorite paintings, and not just because it's the one I'm working on right now. I'm very pleased with how it's going. It started off strong and once I get the shading done, it's going to be amazing. I feel like I'm learning more every day. Having time to actually work on this stuff has made me a lot stronger as an artist, which is exactly what I wanted when I decided to step out on this limb. It's a struggle, but I'm confident now that it will be worth it in the end.

XOXO

Crys

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