dress_me_up_in_pink_and_white Anna_Began My tooth is throbbing and I have a meeting in about twenty five minutes and I can’t stop thinking about my plans for the summer which is good because it’s keeping my mind off of thinking about Seattle and how I wish I were still there. I can’t help feeling like I didn’t make the most of it while I was there. I’ve already made umpteen resolutions to myself about vacations to come and how I won’t be uptight and type A and flipping out about not seeing every nook and cranny of everything. I know this is hardly true. I was surprised when he wrote that he’d remembered to breathe again on the trip. I figured the main thing he’d remember would be why he wanted time out of a relationship before beginning another. I certainly wouldn’t want to travel with me. I realized there are things that I miss doing like gallivanting from place to place and inwardly feeling far cooler than I actually am and being anonymous in a big city full of strange faces and just being able to grab his hand and explore. This was a lot like it was at the beginning without all of the inconvenience and confusion. Conversely, I’d come home feeling confirmed in every one of my decisions and now I just doubt everything. I feel lethargic and lonely. I feel like I want to be left alone. I feel like summer is going to begin and end without me. I feel like looking under a rock in hopes of finding where the last 29 years went. I’m trying to heal all of these wounds on the inside and the creepy feeling I get when you touch me for just too long on my left side is unnerving. I feel homesick when you reach under my shirt in the tentative but convincing way and it fades by the time we get to the important stuff but it makes me wonder. I thought I could make friends the old fashioned way; at least, my old fashioned way, but I guess I was wrong. I guess the people in my life right now are supposed to be enough, although it’s going to take more convincing for me to believe this considering I don’t even like half of them. It occurred to me, I think on South 5 heading down to Portland that I really wouldn’t be happy without a handful of men loving me at the same time. Is it occurring if I’d thought it before? It’s just one of those facts that no matter how many times you become aware of it you’re always like “Well, there it is again. I guess it is true!” It made me smile. It made me think that this is exactly the way it’s supposed to be and then I keep thinking it and realize that no matter how right it feels, it makes no sense. In July, I may sit between the two of you at the ballpark. The number of times in my life where this has been appropriate to say makes me laugh. Well, maybe not appropriate, but realistic. I guess the issue is with writing lately is it’s so difficult to get my mind around the minutia. I hate calling it minutia too because I guess it isn’t, but no one has died and no one is getting married (that I know of)… (er, that’s not actually true) so it just feels like mundane nothing to me. So many questions, which make me think I should make a list. Would it be that simple? To sit down in the twilight of the next 12 days and list questions and just answer them? That makes me feel so powerful. That makes me feel as if I’m rambling. The sky has turned robins egg blue and they’ll probably get the game in tonight, which makes me think of that morning I spoke to her from his bedroom and found out she was marrying the man with a million hands. It’s not like I’ve ever lost anyone. They just always leave for awhile and show up in email when I least expect it 060531 ... Anna_Began Aren't amazing, creative things supposed to happen in hotel rooms? Aren't there supposed to be Mementos and orchids and twenty-third chapters written? I can hear the wind outside. It surprised me earlier because it was 47 degrees today and is supposed to be near 40 tomorrow so I'm not really sure what it's trying to accomplish? You know what I saw tonight? After four years of keeping one eye bent in every direction, I answered a sort of email and watched a scrolling photo menagerie and on the twelth picture, I saw her. It lends me some comfort knowing that computers are still dangerous things. So I let it scroll through again and tried to click it to freeze it and it just passed by again and I still hadn't gotten a good look. I was shivering madly and I knew it wasn't the cold even though anyone that saw me would have assumed that since I tured the heat off around 9 pm. It stopped now though, in this familiar rose world, but I shivered until the third time through. I watched the nice Christian girls face slide by with each picture, with her home and her country fun and thought "she's kissed my boyfriend." And then there they were again, or a couch or holding wine or wearing a relatively ugly white shirt and sort of smiling but really when your face looks like that it's more just smushing at the camera. Four years and it didn't even occur to until just a few sentences ago that you had sex with her. She looked fake sexual; a little like a slut I guess but more like a fake slut. Who knew there were fake sluts well into our late twenties? I am prettier than her, as I've been assured by everyone but you. I'm glad that even though I barely needed to know that anymore, I do know now. And here I sit in this semi-reluctant blue building, and I realize that now that I'm ok with your past, it's only because I'm so at odds with your future. Just like a relationship, I only become ok with the previous heartbreak upon struggling through the current one. It all might be alright soon. Or at least sooner than later. I really don't know anymore. I miss the romantic. I miss the reflections of tragedy. I miss what I thought I'd become. Getting over your past, finally, doesn't seem to do me much good since I'm being haunted by mine. 070221 ... and make love to me slowly. 070222 ... nom vancouvercherryblossomfestival.com 070222 what's it to you? who go blather from