Krista Lester’s Journal
06/08/00 to 06/16/00
06/08/00
It's not that I enjoy life, so don't get me wrong, but I must say there is some enjoyment to be found in certain things like observing the stupidity of other people. It's really amazing. I get such a thrill out of laughing at people, especially if they happen to be trying to get me into bed. You know, there are times when I've been in bed with some random guy, and he'll give me this fucking stupid ass line, and all I can do is laugh at him. Do men really think women don't KNOW when they're being fed one of those stupid lines? Do they really think we're so inexperienced or naive or just plain stupid that we won't KNOW that all they want is to get us in bed? What the fuck?
I have absolutely no problem having sex with some random guy. In fact, I think I would prefer to have sex with some random person over some guy that is pretending to be nice to me. I would much rather have some guy come up to me in a bar and say, "Hey, you're fucking hot," than have some guy try to be all nice by taking me out to dinner and telling me I'm cute. I am not "cute." There is nothing "cute" about me. I hate cute. I like cute things, but I am not a thing. I am a woman, and I am an attractive woman. I know I can have attractive men. Why would I settle? It's not like I'm dying to have sex right now and anyone will do -- no. I look for a decent human being of a guy, and I wait for him to do something stupid. They always do something stupid, and it leaves me with no choice but to take points away from their chances of getting me into bed.
I think it's good that I have a game. Men have their games. Men compete against one another for women. They might not even vocalize it to one another, but they definitely compete for the attention of women. They get a point for every time they get laid. I think it's perfectly fair for me to take a point away from them every time they do something stupid. If you tell me I'm conceited, you lose a fucking point. If you call me a psycho, you lose a fucking point. If you point out other attractive women to me, you lose a shitload of points; I notice them, too, you don't have to point them out. If you want to get me into bed, all you have to be is mildly attractive and not stupid.
This is gonna turn out to be a real gem for some guy who stumbles across this because I'm going to tell you exactly how to be "not stupid." Being not stupid involves being yourself. It means don't try to fucking impress me. Just be yourself. If you're used to trying to over-flatter with practiced lines, don't expect to ever lay a girl with half a brain. We can see through your lines. I could see through those lines when I was fifteen. Jesus Christ. Just be a normal fucking human being. Don't tell me I owe you anything. Don't call me conceited. Don't try to sell me your religion. Don't tell me you understand how I feel because you sure as hell don't. Don't even get into a discussion about how I feel. Don't try to tell me stories about how awesome you are. Please buy me dinner or drinks, but don't tell me I have to repay you; I will when I feel like it. If I say I'm in a bad mood, it means get the fuck away from me. If I say get the fuck away from me, it doesn't necessarily mean forever. Most importantly: don't talk too much; if you do, you're really giving yourself lots of opportunities to be stupid.
You'll thank me for this advice someday.
06/12/00
The good thing about hating everyone is that you get particularly good at being nice to people. It's just one of those things you come to terms with. This person's a moron. Oh, that's okay. That just means he's like everyone else. I have no need to dislike anyone any more than anyone else, since I already hate them all. The problem arises when people are mean to me. I don't get that. At least I'm friendly when I talk to them. I'm a friendly person. I'm very detached and disinterested in the majority of the world's goings on, but I'm friendly to everyone that's friendly to me. Piss me off, and it's a different story, but I'm generally a friendly person. I think more people should be friendly like me.
06/14/00
I'm really starting to miss me. I've gotten along without myself for about half a year now, and I'm still not used to it and I still don't like it. I miss the me who could fall asleep anywhere at the drop of a hat. Now I have trouble getting comfortable anywhere. I miss the me that could sit in a coffee shop for hours, drinking cappuccino and writing my newest poem. Now I can't drink much caffeine and I have significantly fewer things to write about. I miss the me that could cut my arm open and go to school in short sleeves. Now I have to hide my arms and legs so my boss doesn't see my cuts and scars. I miss the me that could appreciate the satisfaction in knowing that I could kick anyone's ass because I was a second away from snapping at any moment. Now someone could stick a gun in my face and I would just look at them in utter disinterest and maybe raise an eyebrow. I miss the me that could sense changes in atmosphere. Now I find myself trying to figure out how people are feeling, and I have to worry more about how I'm feeling. I miss the me that could go out and get fucking plastered every single night. Now I need a week to recover after drinking minimal amounts. I miss the me that was violent and angry and could take out my frustration in bursts of self-injury. Now I just sit around with my frustration tearing away at my soul. All of my frustration is still a big part of me. Now it just stays there with no way to get out.
Fuck antidepressants and mood stabilizers and psychotropic drugs of any kind. I hate them all. They make it easier to accept the world around me -- yes. However, I HATE the world around me, and knowing that much makes me realize that I'm starting to turn into one of the people that I hate. And I HATE IT! I can't deal. This is just so not cool. It's perpetually boring. I don't like who they're trying to make me become. I'd rather be dead than one of them, so I guess this therapy isn't helping me much, now is it? Fuck the world. I hate it all.
06/16/00
Welcome to the Columbine High School library, as it stood just a few days after the shooting. [Again, the picture is missing due to legalities.] Isn't it pretty? Why is it pretty? I don't know. Columbine is like Starbucks for me; when I go there, I feel at home. I feel comfortable there. Of course, I've been trying not to think about Columbine much lately because it upsets me. I realize this is entirely contradictory to what I stated just a moment ago, but it's all true. Columbine upsets me, and I feel comfort in conflict. I find comfort in depression, anger, and hatred. These are the things that make me feel like I've walked in the door to my childhood home to relax and finally be at peace with myself and my complex psyche. These are the things that make me feel like I'm safely held in the arms of a saving grace. It's rather unfortunate that I have to resort to things like Columbine to find my comfort, but at least then I know I'm not alone.
Columbine had a beautiful library. It was huge, too -- far bigger than the library at my high school. Columbine is a gorgeous school in the middle of a gorgeous community. There are wide open blue skies above and mountains all around. There's a lake, a park, and a shopping haven in the very near vicinity of the school. It's beautiful, but if I had lived there and gone to school at Columbine, I imagine I would've had trouble adjusting, as well as my good friends, Eric and Dylan.
When there's nothing but beauty all around you, all you can hope to be is beautiful enough to fit into your surroundings. It's commonly accepted that the most beautiful people are generally also the people who FEEL the most beautiful. What if you're attractive, but dissatisfied with yourself? What if you're attractive, but unhappy? What if you're not sure if you really are attractive? What if you want to love yourself, but the rest of the world keeps shutting you down? What if you live in a beautiful place, and you simply cannot feel beautiful? How do you fit in?
The opposite is true, as well. If you take a beautiful person and put them in the middle of a crime-infested slum, they aren't going to fit in very well. They probably will not be able to adjust. They probably will be raped and mugged or shot in the head sooner than their less beautiful neighbor. The point isn't about beauty, though, if you haven't figured that out. Some people simply do not fit in. Think of the middle-class person in a high society gathering, the underprivileged man in the company of movie stars, the skinny little geek who fixes computers at the gym. It's not always easy to fit in.
Why would you want to fit in, anyway? If you try to alter your personality to fit in, you're being untrue to yourself. If you move to a place where you automatically fit in, you've lost your sense of self. Everyone these days is always trying to say they're different. Everybody wants to be different, but they still want to fit in. You can't fit in, if you're different. It's just something you have to come to terms with. I've had to come to terms with it; I bitch about it, but I accept it. Acceptance in society is like the silent predator of success; it can make you or break you. It can turn you into someone you weren't, whether or not you made the decision to change. It's awful. It's a horrible fact of humanity that's been in existence since the beginning of civilization.
Many years ago, I read a book by S.E. Hinton that had a very relevant thought in it. I can't remember the exact title of the book, but while I'm at it here, I'm just going to throw in a little plug for her. I think she's one of the best authors I've ever encountered. I don't think she's written anything recently, but some of you might recognize her name from the book The Outsiders. All of her books are intelligent, honest, and thought-provoking. I loved all of them. In any case, this particular book, the title of which I cannot remember, included a lonely protagonist whose primary goal in life was to get a book published. The character, for whatever reason, had to move to a new town and switch high schools, and he had a lot of trouble making friends in his new environment. The relevant point here was the comment he made in reference to the fact that he was always alone. The character wanted friends, but couldn't find any. So, he noted at one point that the people who are loners don't always choose to be loners.
When I first read the book, I wasn't sure I agreed, but now I know better. Now I know that the high school kid who sits alone across the cafeteria doesn't necessarily want to sit alone. Sitting alone might, however, be preferable to being tormented by the kids that think he's a freak. Some people have fragile egos. My ego has been deflated time and time again. I don't think it'll ever be sturdy enough to withstand any more significant tests of criticism. Thus, I live my life in constant fear of failure, even though I want nothing more than to believe in myself. I can't take criticism. And do you want to know what makes criticism so difficult to handle? It's the fact that the critique always seems to come from someone who doesn't have the first idea what they're talking about or what they're doing. They just have the impulse to make others feel pain. The world isn't made for people who want to prove their worth by themselves. The world is made for people who want to prove their worth by creating an illusion of worth through the suggestion of others' inferiority.