[This journal is closed. If you want to play her, make a new journal, or e-mail me at kinda_kreuk@yahoo.com and I'll give you the kristinkreuk journal. Thank you and goodnight. If you want to know how to find me, e-mail me at the same place.]

When you rip at someone, they start to wear and tear into paper pieces of a life they once held, struggling to compose again as a symphony. The effects become visible in their eyes and features, lines on their faces and foreheads, sadness in their eyes that are already sad and already tired with being a witness to so much and seeing the wear of the ( Read more... )

There are things I want to do in my mind. I'm not talking about career moves, but there are plenty of those. I'm not deliberating on any scripts right now, though there are plenty in my mailbox. Once again, I'm not talking about the next big thing to do in my life, if I should put this acting deal on hiatus and go to school as I always said I'd do ( Read more... )

One thing I've always wanted to do was just to take a star straight out of the sky and hold it in my hand for a few minutes and stop hesitantly then, astonished at the thought that I was holding something that so many people had looked up on at a moment of weakness or wonder and paused to wish on or thought of every single lend relating to stars in ( Read more... )

A few more minutes left. If I don't post anything else for awhile, I have to post this. Happy Birthday to Allison Mack, who told us she didn't need a birthday party because she was pregnant and cake sounded really fucking good, but she'd insist upon eating the whole thing if we brought one. She was right. It's why we bought two. Allison has been ( Read more... )

The events of the past few days which felt like several, hours seeming to build into eternities, left me turning an hour glass over to see where I ended up when I ran out of time, without expecting time to stop for one second and stringing along and out the chords on delayed reception and prolonged playback. And then, turn. To go back and forward ( Read more... )

I'm a sucker for the worst kind of love stories. I'm a fan of bleeding pens until they bleed dry for a happy ending, and scrawling on new sheets of paper and ripping the endings out of books I can't stand the endings of. I would choose the books that end with choose your own endings until I found one that suited me and write a hundred more until I ( Read more... )

No, I will not post that comment thing just because everyone around here is, call this a lazy meme-hating attempt at being a nonconformist. Besides, what's the point if the huge numbers you look at are only going to make you think "Well, I should comment more, but I won't," anyway? See, waste of time and space, I thought so too ( Read more... )

I'm on tour, or a certain group is on tour, or we're all on tour and I'm on tour with them and I'm having entirely too much fun being a passenger on a bus and making sure my supply of disposable cameras doesn't run out. I packed my headphones like I always do when I travel and I listened to Reagan's funeral over the radio this morning. I didn't, ( Read more... )

Sundays have always been meant to be lazy days. In the winter, sometimes the characteristic laziness of the day means building a fire in the fireplace and making snowmen and making sure there's hot chocolate onhand for afterward; in the spring, watching everything come alive again; in the fall, raking the mess of the falling leaves away as the ( Read more... )