Why are you even here

I think that it’s okay to check up on people you once had friendships and relationships with, even if you are no longer talking with these people. It isn’t stalking or being a creep. Why should it be shameful? You cared about them (maybe you still care about them) and you want to make sure they are still alive, still healthy. Over two years of this miserable pandemic now, so it feels natural to be concerned about friends and family and lovers. And especially about FORMER friends and family and lovers. Not creepy. Natural.

Okay so maybe sometimes I walk a fine line and maybe sometimes I might cross that line but it’s only out of love, and because of my generous spirit. So I’m sorry I was inside your bedroom, but it’s fine. It’s fine. I was quiet and I didn’t take anything (except for a few pictures) and you didn’t even know I was there. It’s only because I had to make sure you were okay. And you were! I could tell you were by the easy way you were breathing, untroubled and steady, and the matching rhythm of your wife’s sleeping breath. Aren’t you two so sweet. What a relief. My relief is immense.

So it’s fine. It’s all fine. No worries here, it’s just me, sweet old Christa, being my kind loving self.

Just because we don’t talk anymore doesn’t mean I stopped caring. You may be out of my life, but I will never be out of yours. Never. Ever. Ever. And you can’t stop me. From caring. About you.

Interested in reading more about how I feel towards you (and your wife)? Be sure to check out my new site! (Link in bio)

You should be too

A friend recently shared with me an old newspaper clipping he had found, all about an ancestor of his. the bottom half reads like every straight-guy profile on tinder, I swear to god.

“I’m a man of good business qualifications. I lead an outdoor life and am ever active, being strong, muscular and of somewhat distinguished appearance; and strictly moral and temperate… and you should be as well.”

I hate that place I don’t know why I bother. Take you and your stupid profile back to 1835 Texas, why don’t you.

I guess I’m just bored and lonely.

I’ve been writing, but so far there is not much activity on my new site. And by “not much” I mean none. I expected an instant overnight hit! This world is not deserving of me.

Dear foreign bots, I had to start a new journal site, because I broke this one and I don’t know how to fix it, so can you please come see me there? Please.

You know, I wonder if I should get a bruins tattoo on my back shoulder. Or a tiny little constellation inside my wrist. Or this:

Cliches are true for a reason

When I make mistakes in my work, it’s often on display to a wider audience than just my coworkers. The bigger fuck ups cause major stress poops. But even a tiny little flub that most people wouldn’t notice can still be embarrassing and deflating.

So when I see stuff like this, I always make sure I document it with pictures and commentary (lots of internal judgment). It makes me feel better.

Don’t worry, billion dollar media giant. I will definitely watch to see who cliches a spot in the final four.

(In case this image ends up not displaying properly: it’s a pic of the onscreen TV guide for my xfinity cable service, advertising March madness coverage to “see who cliches a spot in the final four.”)

Ginger balls

She loves tennis balls. They are her favorite thing. She is obsessed. We have this shooter gun that sends the tennis balls flying and every time we pull it out she goes nuts for it.

This is but a small portion of her collection: