if_i_bring_a_little_music_i_could_fit_right_in Anna_Began Test 030801 ... Anna_Began August. Now it is, but a week ago it wasn't. A week ago I was in bed. I'd shared a humongo barrel of popcorn and drank half my Mt. Dew. Halfway through the movie I got your attention and you will never convince me that isn't the reason why we didn't make it to the sports bar on the east side of town. The night before, I was totally yours. I rarely have moments anymore when I am not. Saturday I looked for reasons to move. I found them. Each day I fit in a little more. How to get this into a single blather? How ridiculous of me to even try. Sunday, we spent the day with your parents and then an evening of what words are made of ensued. Strolling in the park, playing on the baseball diamond, swinging, actually, honest to God laying on a pier over Lake Michigan and then seeing fireworks. I couldn't imagine better material than that. And yet all these stupid, meaningless words flow out in attempt to commemorate these occurences. Silly things like scaring a little boy named Jake, wanting ice cream, eating donut holes, completely giving up on the attempt to make it through an entire movie. On Monday, the music was beautiful. We laid on the rocks overlooking the lake. Right before the opening act we moved closer to the stage. All those wonderful concert things that couples do: with the hips and the hands and the slow dancing and kissing... By Be Mine we were out on the rocks again. You saved a spider and I loved the feel of my arm wrapped around your leg and my fingers tickling you knee. I gave up shortly after my favorite song began because I felt as if the entire venue staff was waiting for us to get it on so they could kick us out. After This Years Love you kissed me. My soul has yet to stop sighing. At times during the night I lost myself and forgot who I was, where I still lived, that I was still surrounded by living, breathing humans. I got to be one of those people that I used to be jealous of. More often than not these days, that's who I am. On the actual last night I was in your bed, you held me and we talked about getting in a boat and sailing away from everything. We'd build an island hut to live in and find coconuts and smoke up with the natives on the island. If only I had season tickets, this would be all I ever needed. 030801 ... Anna_Began Frustrated. Frustrating. Frustrate. Frustration. I'm tired of this place. I'm tired of this frame of mind. I'm tired of lying and nothing making sense and loosing sight of everything again. I'm tired of not just putting the damn ball in my hand and squeezing in the way that I know brings back all the clarity and forces the confusion into the darkest corners. I'm tired of cursing at people that matter for nothing in the grand scheme of my life and not knowing what the hell to do with the people that do matter. I want to fly away. This isn't the same as running away. I know myself inside and out and yet still I look in the mirror sometimes and don't recognize what I see. I know it's getting bad when I stop bothering to look into the mirror at all. I start cramming stuff in my mouth in hopes of keeping the words from flying out and the same mistakes start creeping up on me again and HERE is where I am right NOW: completely lost. Jezebel. 030806 ... Anna_Began I'm sucking on my teeth. This isn't, by any means, a habit I usually fall back on... what with hair twirling and lip biting, where would I fit it in? But with the two tiny white circles on the inside of my lip, causing me pain everytime I eat, talk or think about them and the excruciating pains I'm taking not to split my ends (it's not working) what else am I to do? For a moment, about ten minutes ago, I had a surge of excitement; a surge of the way it should be. So, my guess now is, motion causes it. I was listening to the trilogy of songs that remind me of the things that have slipped away since Christmas and I swung and gyrated and realized that my back is still not completely healed but healed enough to excuse any foolish behavior during Hard Candy next Friday. It's the same between visit/work overload angst that always eats away at me. It's the way in which, while you deny any plans, you're moving forward and I'm just moving in circles. It's my fault. Claiming to have blown something up, I just let the minimal dust settle back into apathy and in reality, I need a cleansing. Maybe I'm not cut out to makes sense. Maybe nothing in me is supposed to fit anywhere. (Since March, I've learned this isn't true.) But everything is pushing me in one direction (or pulling, I hope) and the only thing holding me right here, in this room, in this very stagnant, very unfamiliar anyway town, is green. Ha ha. Funny. Jesus, I need to pick a new favorite color. 030807 ... Anna_Began Nothing on my mind should lead me to blathering under this title this evening. I am thinking about Revelations and the Second Coming over on blue and what all the crap I may or may not sink into due to her and her damn white dress will cause me and I'm more tired than I should be considering the amount and depth of sleep I've had over the last 48 hours. But here I am, tired, tired of waiting for you, happy that you are having a wonderful, non-working time this evening and I'm not so jealous anymore but I'm still waiting. I want to talk about all the things on my mind and I want to talk about them with you. For over two weeks I've waited to flesh out my angst with you now that the intense (physical) pain has healed and I can form complete thoughts. You won't tell me what I should do about being her maid of honor but you will guide me through my own thoughts and feelings like only you can. You'll offer insight about how you'd handle it and it will make sense and I will see something clearly. I will be elated to lay in bed, speaking to you with a different form of technology. All weekend this room has been cold and for some reason, tonight I'm sweating. Let's play my game. This time next week... my belly will be full of crabs and beer. Both concerts will have passed. (Friday's saddens me but I could have had bigger plans for Saturday... Hindsight...) I will have visited my grandcathedral, my heaven, with you. FUCKING, EH. Hehe. I will hav grabbed your hand walking over those cobblestones. You win, you win, you win. Yup. I'm delirious with sleepiness. Indeed, first inside me, pin a rose on your nose, kissing in the seventh inning stretch. (Gonna be editing a bunch of this out come September and gift-giving) Hey, if YOU'RE reading this, haha. (I don't mean that. God, I don't mean that. See: in_spite_of_all_that_weve_become... I bet that link won't work. My linky thingies never do) Ok, I'm making no sense. I miss Kerry. I'm jealous that it seems so effortless for Kerry to smoke up lately, and I'm a little concerned for her safety if she's doing it on a roof, but still, I want a piece of the action. Last night, at the concert full of old hippies and a bunch of other stuff my father despises, I'd have loved to bought whatever it is one buys when they want to smoke a joint with the boy they love the following weekend. The phrase "dime bag" comes to mind but I'm basing that on movies and tv and, undoubtedly, exposing my ignorance to the entire blather red community. "Hey guys, Anna_Began thinks she's so badass and she doesn't even know where to buy pot." Ho hum. A damn fine maid of honor I'd make anyway. I will type for six more minutes, and if you don't appear, I'll fall victim to the dumb girl syndrome, email you and try to get some sleep. Know though, that I will be pissed if you don't call now. Excuses, excuses. My room has a rosy haze over it. I really do love it. I can't believe it took me ten months to get it this way and funny, I hope to move it soon. But next Saturday, wherever we decide to sleep in this ridiculous house, you'll serve as a reminder that I'm leaving for more reasons than just the shoddy plumbing and the family of skunks in the backyard. Dafremen's entry on blue scared the shit out of me and I pictured in my head, at the exact moments after reading what he'd written, what it would be like to wake up in a screaming sweat next to you, after having survived a nightmare. I haven't done that in a long time, possibly never. When I do have nightmares, I suck the dread down inside; bury it, let my heart lie heavy and fall back to sleep. I want to wake up, shaken and frightened, terrified even by everything in my mind. And I want you next to me, holding me and chasing away the demons. Perhaps I truly am a fatalist. 030810 ... Filling in for Anna_Began is... Anna_Began is currently showing someone around her city... as well as a city just south of her that she hates being affiliated with. It's on the way to the concert tomorrow night though so it just made sense to include it. She will be returning to blather on Tuesday, if not before. She will be depressed. Please offer her comfort. She'll be lonely and readier to move. Thank you for your time. PS. Hi Kerry 030814 ... kerry HEY 030816 ... Anna_Began Summer is over. And I wished it away. And now the mangling hands of fate spit in my face because days pass at the opposite rate of speed than which you wish for. This hurts a little more each time. I barely made it to the car before the tears leaked over the rims of my eyes. Last time the plane was somewhere over Pennsylvania. My drive was too long after Ohio for any of that and it was a few days before I'd cried of the consequences that seemed to be Chicago. I just keep pausing to jab my fingertips in my eyes every so often to crush away the water that fills them. I understand the grace that is necessary with this and yet I shake remembering how I fell asleep the last five nights. I caught you smelling the little round bottle of perfume and knew that you were watching me in the hotel as I smeared my makeup across my cheeks. When you boarded the planes our hands matched with identical red blotches of ink from the boat ride on the bay. It's 8:53 and it's already washed away with just one shower. She said I appeared to be the dominant one and I laughed thinking, "I hang on each of his words." I wander off in stores just to feel the extra beat my heart gives when I find you again. Together, I am this combination of the me that I've always been; sometimes high-strung, sensitive, moody and creative, me through and through, mixed with that girl that I want to be. The writer, someone confident enough to walk into vintage clothing stores and art museums. Someone that burns incense and knows about indie music. You've seen my darker sides; my cursing at drivers and frustration at the typical crumbling that is my world; how concerts occur without me in attendance. You saw me with them and how she tries to eat me up with her disorders and you saw me at the one place that can turn my world around. I thought familirity would numb the thunderbolts. It has not. I never thought I'd be any of the places I am today. I rediscovered a city I've called home since birth. I said "I want to leave, but it will always be home." I felt pretty last night. When you look at me like that... I can't finish that sentence. Everywhere we are together; Baltimore, Milwaukee, Toledo, my bed, your bed, it just fits. There are times when I tell you things that your surprise makes my heart melt. Yes, I cried a lot when you couldn't visit for my birthday and two months passed without holding your hand. Yes, the person I am trying to impress is you. Yes, if we lived in the same city I would survive without seeing you everday, all day. Yes, I think you need to be the father of a daughter one day and yes, the rest of that thought crossed my mind when I said it. And yes, it isn't the first time. New things this time: I shared your hairbrush and toothpaste. You went in my bag without permission and used my phone. These things are what couples do when there isn't a two hour plane ride seperating their existance. You were deeper in me than ever before. And there was pain and there was surprise but there was an unyielding desire to pull you even deeper still. Snippets of memory flash through my skull; I can still hear your voice in my ears and when I think of your words it makes my eyes tear up. Knowing I'd come home from work to find you sleeping in my bed; the way you awoke seconds before I'd enter the room, the way you'd stretch and struggle your eyes open, it made breathing, and all of this emptiness here possible. Now what? On Friday I cried on top of the pavillion hill when Adam said goodnight; On Saturday I drank a mimosa and we nearly died on a trolley. Liz was a sex goddess and I don't feel out of place even in a place like that when you're next to me. My kiss came late on Sunday, but for nine innings, I thought about it only to let the confusion of broken traditions allow the plan to slip away. In my city on Monday night we did things that were and were not me. Pool, and sports bars and grabbing you by the hand to drag you to the next thing my attention deficit had rendered; riding in cabs with valets and tuxedos and eighteen dollar tips. Saying goodbye is bittersweet. I know my way around all of the airport without a second thought these days. Nothing is perfect and apparently, 800 miles is our imperfection. 030819 ... kerry your writing is perfect. email me! 030819 ... PeeT . 120517 what's it to you? who go blather from