Monday, April 26, 2004
that deluxe apartment in the sky...

it's been two years and a month since i first typed the words "" and saw my meagre little page load itself. born of a whim, constant internet access, and a desire to evade schoolwork, i never imagined the impact a tiny little free-hosted website would have on my life. a lot has been said about blogging, its pros, cons, withering effects on society, etc etc. but pH has brought me a place to write my thoughts, a host of new friends, and it's taught me a middling amount of HTML along the way.

so here, at this two year mark, i'm picking up my little suitcase of codes and banners, carefully packing my cherished links, tearfully deleting my witty sidebar, patting the tulips on the head and telling them not to die... and movin' on up. come over to
le petit hiboux with me. i may be surrounded by boxes, wearing dungarees, plaster bits in my hair and a screwdriver in my hand (the tool, not the drink... yet), but there's a party going on already.


love, krissa .... 5:01 PM ... link!

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Thursday, April 22, 2004
god save the queen

sure, it doesn't look that big. compared to the apartment building. but then you look over at the gorky, some perfectly adequate and luxurious russian ship that sailed up the hudson yesterday and is docked two slips away and you look back at the honkingly large queen mary 2 and you think to yourself and sometimes out loud,


the poor gorky has already checked itself into therapy and is having trouble performing.

love, krissa .... 5:49 PM ... link!

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Tuesday, April 20, 2004
tree for the forest

we were at a restaurant in rio when it happened. my brother and i had been invited to dinner with an old family friend and his kids. his son, M, and his stepson, C, were both there. the exchange that followed may have gone completely unnoticed by their family, may in fact be a common occurence, but it was rather a watershed moment for me.

C is twenty eight, rakishly good looking in the way puppy dogs are cute even when they've piddled on the sofa. he takes almost excessively good care of his sculpted body, and probably knows how endearing it is when his thick brown hair flops over his inquisitive blue eyes. C surfs, owns a hip-hop club, and thinks "smoking makes women look ugly", as he so charmlessly told me while i took a drag off my cigarette. as i watched C drink his water and wave away smoke, i tired to remember what i found so attractive about him last year.

M is four years older, with a quiet but intelligent wife and a sparkling and adored four year old girl. M has eyes like brownie batter and patchy black hair. he's tall and his muscles sit comfortably on a bigger frame. he wears the same thing nearly every day - slightly rumpled but expensive button-downs and worn jeans. he takes after his father, with a kind easy charm and a smile for everyone. even better, M lacks his father's innate but harmless womanizing.

dessert came around, and with his treasured daughter hanging off his shoulder and his wife ready with a spoon, M happily dug into the enormous ice cream sundae. C, tanned arms crossed over his smooth flat chest, looked askance at M's dessert.

"what is it, C?" M asked jovially. "want some?"

with the kind of smirk that turns a handsome face into a fleetingly grotesque one, C replied, "ah, so that's when you know you're over the hill, eh? when you eat that kind of junk? all downhill from here, M?"

only my brother and i seemed to notice how incredibly rude this was. our eyes locked with mirrored surprise. the ugly smokers comment, now this? i watched M as he ruffled his daughter's hair. he looked at her, and at his wife engaged in a conversation with his parents. then he turned back to C.

"when you can sit here, with your family, and be happy... you can eat an entire sundae, C. you'll see." he lifted another spoonful of chocolate and ice cream to his daughter's mouth and wiped her cheek.

C laughed, "ah, sure, yeah."

the conversation was probably just a joust between brothers. on all other fronts, C and M obviously get along very well. perhaps this was a routine of theirs. but the implication is heavy - what makes you happy, your trim waistline or your family?

i couldn't forget this exchange, or how devalued C's shallow good looks became in comparison to M's warmth and kindness. C actually became ugly in my eyes, while M's more natural good looks struck me for the first time. i've always believed people are only as beautiful as their personalities. so why had i even found C attractive in the first place? more to the point, how had i not seen it in M?

for so long, i chased the wrong kind of guy. my friends didn't have to tell me ... i knew i could never settle down with any of these men. i knew they'd never look at a sundae shared with me and our children as one of life's precious moments. and i knew i would. but knowing who the wrong ones are doesn't always make the right ones stand out. i couldn't always see the tree for the forest.

watching M delight in his friends and family, watching the kind of wisdom i cherished fall so easily from his lips, made me realize that my radar had finally kicked in. i finally knew the good ones. after years of chasing the C's and wondering where all the M's were, i could spot them a mile away. both kinds.

so it's not surprising to me that i love stuart. it's not remotely surprising that i see him for exactly what he is - a brilliant, kind, beautiful person - and that i love him for it. it's not surprising that i fell like a metric ton of bricks at his charm, his warmth, his compassion for everyone around him, his intelligence and his charisma. it's not surprising i'm irresistibly attracted to him, that i feel both strong and delicate in his arms. it might come as a shock to the girl from a few years ago, who barked up the wrong trees and knew it. but this girl has been waiting for him.

love, krissa .... 5:09 PM ... link!

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Thursday, April 15, 2004
thursday, march eighteenth...

was exactly four weeks ago. and exactly four weeks ago, i returned from brasil and met stuart at shiv's apartment. the week that followed was simply the most magical week of my entire life. it went too quickly, and now time drags on as i count down the days until i see him again [current count: 42 a-g-o-n-i-z-i-n-g-l-y long days]. but in honor of this tiny little milestone, here's an excerpt from the long, beautiful story of that week that i've been writing since he left. here's the spark that started it all.

...there is always a telltale moment in the dance of attraction between two people, be it physical or emotional. a toss of hair, crossing your legs in their direction, an unecessary touch on the elbow when walking through a crowded area. i fully admit to being a master of these subtle directives and am usually fully aware of when i’m beguiling someone with charm. but this was the exception to the rule. here's how it was: we sat down in the living room, you on the couch and me on the adjacent armchair. dom had arrived and we were chitchatting aimlessly. i had kicked off my boots hours earlier, and in the act of lighting a cigarette and settling into the armchair, i tucked one foot under and extended the other, letting it rest on the corner of your knee.

i will swear to my grave that prior coquetterie aside, i did this completely without pretense. i was getting comfortable, my foot needed someplace to rest, and there was your jean-clad knee. you, whom i'd immediately warmed to. whose very first smile thrilled me. the moment my foot pressed your knee, as natural as that action was, alarms went off in my head. you, someone i’d so instantly liked and admired, might think i was hitting on you so blatantly! an unfamiliar element of prudishness took over. i didn't want to flirt with you like a cat with some new plaything. the way i flirted with countless other men, often to pass the time at parties. i actually liked you.

in the instant your eyes met mine, not two seconds after making contact, i withdrew the forward foot, feeling almost ashamed that you’d think it was a crude advance. the look on your face was too quick for me to read. it was a small smile, with a touch of surprise to the eyes. on the subway ride home, i tried to decipher that sphinxian look. i berated myself for my thoughtless foot. but it'd felt so simple, and there'd been such a strangely familiar chemistry passing from foot to knee. i hadn't meant to do it. and yet, i couldn't stop thinking about it.

days later, our arms and legs were comfortably entwined as we rode the subway, kissing and smiling every three minutes as we did all week. you looked at me, were quiet for a minute, and said, "you're going to think this is really strange, but i know the exact moment."

i was already fluent in our language. so i knew what kind of moment you meant. "when?" i asked. and i thought, wouldn't it be funny, but no - no one notices that kind of stuff but me - still -

"your foot -", you started to explain further, but i was laughing by then.

"me too!" and then we rushed over each other's words, only to find we were saying the same thing. the same feeling of ease, the same pleasant surprise of the foot, the same moment of shock as i withdrew it... the same.

and then we kissed.

i love you stuart. and my foot loved your knee even before that. here's to four more weeks, a million times over.

love, krissa .... 11:23 PM ... link!

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Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Out of Memory, Please Back Up Important Information

have you ever had a piece of information fall out of your head? you're walking along and plop, something you swear up and down you used to be completely sure of... is gone. what remains is simply the empty slot in your brain where the information used to live. so you have a memory of information. just not the information itself.

this happened to my best friend once. she couldn't remember a word. she knew the meaning of the word she was looking for, and then she couldn't remember it. we spent an entire weekend trying to remember the word, asking everyone we knew if they could remember it. the funny thing is, now i can't remember it either. see? and i haven't even done enough drugs for this to be blamed on the inevitable short-term memory-loss.

but yesterday i lost something of my own. something fell out of my ear. something i've known for years. it's the force-quit command for macs.

i've been dealing with fidgety, dodgy macs for five years. mostly in college, where i ran the newspaper on that plasticky-bit-on-the-end-of-a-shoestring budget (is there even a word for that plasticky bit? have i forgotten that too?). the temperamental macs that pissed everyone off at the computer lab? those were handed down to us, cinderella-style. our computers here at work, too, are cranky old apples. so i'm quite used to force-quitting a program in order to keep work-flow moving.

and then yesterday, IE freaked out on me like it does on a daily basis, and i forgot how to force-quit. i spent all day willing my fingers to naturally gloss back over those beloved and useful keys to execute to ship-saving prompt. nothing. i've psyched myself out. i can't remember.

database out of memory space. please help.

love, krissa .... 4:44 PM ... link!

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Tuesday, April 13, 2004
joey the wiseguy meets carrie bradshaw, here i come

friends and enemies alike have long been aware of my oft-repeated threat to defend and/or deface them with my particular weapon of choice. the sentence usually goes something like this:
"i will SO TOTALLY smack you/her/him/them about the head/knees with my Pink Baseball Bat."

see, because it's a baseball bat. so it's good for the smashy-smashy. but it's also pink. which matches my smashing-outfit. which is probably some sort of pink vinyl catsuit. the Awesome Pink Baseball Bat of Style and Doom, however, has long been nothing more than a metaphor for my powers as charm-goddess and feared enemy combined. not so anymore.

as if i needed further proof that stuart is the new walking definition of the Perfectest Man Alive, i present you with his first real gift to me in his new capacity of Beloved:

seriously, people, the owl is now armed. and dangerous. and stylish to the hilt.

love, krissa .... 4:54 PM ... link!

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Sunday, April 11, 2004
a promise or a threat

"people may refuse our love, but they are defenseless against our prayers."

- written on the billboard of the baptist church on hope street, providence, RI.

well, happy easter to each and every one of us. even the godless heathens.

love, krissa .... 6:45 PM ... link!

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