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A girl living, loving and writing in Los Angeles.
August Listening
August Reading
Favorite Places
Copyright 2001 - 2008 by Ann, unless otherwise noted.
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Monday, February 28, 2005
"Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane
Sunday, February 27, 2005
"She Wants To Play Hearts" by Ryan Adams
Matt is so adorably amazed by everything here. He is particularly smitten with newspaper stands -- the kind that you put a quarter in to lift the lid and retrieve your daily goods in words and newspaper print. He wants to take one home with him and set it on the pavement outside his Victorian flat in London that is older than the whole of San Diego, and force his postman to put the post in there everyday so that he could deposit money to retrieve his mail.
The British are so funny. Tomorrow we are going to Mexico -- during the day -- and I am hoping we do not get hassled or raped or kidnapped or thrown into jail. Keep your fingers crossed for us. Though Matt said he would enjoy a bit of drama, it would make a much better story later.
Matt is such a genius. But he has to be, we met at Cambridge. And to answer your question, why no, it isn't hard at all to be this pretentious all day long.
It is so swell to hear Matt's voice again and hug him and hear his brilliant advice.
Friday, February 25, 2005
"Flowers in December" by Mazzy Star
Yay yay yay!!! Matt is coming to stay with me for the weekend!! I feel super swell & loved & excited! I'm a wreck though, because I have no idea where to take him -- and the last place we went together was Scotland. How the hell do I follow that up?
I'm in love with the toothfloss dental floss I bought today. (Apparently I made up the word "toothfloss"). Crest Glide Comfort Plus Mint Floss. I highly recommend it. I love flossing. Mmm clean teeth.
Tonight: golf pros & tennis hoes party, or staying home to write write write for everything due Monday? Hmm. Conundrum!
At least for the weekend I will have someone to sit in the bathtub with me and catch my tears in a papercup.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Really late notice, but if any of you are in the San Diego area, you should really check out The Sex Workers' Art Show tonight. I'll be there.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Time after time after time.
Time is such a weird thing. Danielle asked me if I had pictures from senior winter formal, and I found this folder which was like discovering faded photographs inside a book stored away in a musty attic. How long and how short three years can seem at the same time. I look like a baby. But damn I was thin.
I still remember how I had been incredibly incredibly ill, running a really high fever and a snotty nose and I still wore that dress. I still remember being with all my best friends, and almost dying in a serious limo accident. I still remember how much I loved that necklace and it broke that night, less than 24 hours of buying it. Vividly. I still remember how sweet it was that Jon and his mom made the hot pink bowtie and sewed a hot pink sash into his cumberband so that we would match perfectly. How he went with me, even though he had already graduated the year before, and his girlfriend at the time was being a raging bitch to him and I was sad for him because he's the nicest guy on earth. It probably didn't make it better that he went with me when he used to have a crush on me but we never dated. She never liked me, and I still don't think she does. Prehistory. Repeating, always repeating. Always the girl before the girlfriend. I'm what the boys say they can't remember when they tell you, "I can't remember a time before I met you." I'm not worth remembering.
I remember the last time I saw Jon, which was way too long ago. December 2003. He picked me up and we drove into the beautiful forest parks and canyons in my very own backyard that I had never discovered before. We drove through the mountain trails and hiked through the beautiful fresh winter air that wasn't too cold because it was after all, still Orange County. We had breakfast at this tiny little cafe in the middle of the forest, halfway up the mountain. It was completely adorable, completely isolated from all the bullshit and gloss. He carries a video camera everywhere and he took pictures of us by a fire truck. He told me stories about road trips and being boy scout troop leader and how going away to school had been. We went to his house and I met his mom and his sister. They loved me and I loved them.
I miss these friends, these times. It's weird. But it might be weirder to have maintained; these moments wouldn't be as particular.
Time is a weird thing. Always racing past us, always catching up to us, always stretching, always existing twofold, threefold. Memory is like that -- it is a timewarp. Memory right now -- I made that morning with Jon exist in this moment again.
Funny how I wrote a term paper on nostalgia being the devil while I was at Cambridge. It makes you sick, to long for the past of what was good. Sometimes, it makes you feel good too. That's the worst part. Because it's not real, because it's skewed perspective. And here I am, wrapping it all up in pink rice paper nostalgia.
It's time. I can feel it tickling my toes and nipping my nose. It's time to pack the bags real tight and leave. A little demon sits on my shoulder whispering obscene things into my ear, and it's time to leave.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
"The Wind" by Cat Stevens
Irony: leaving a beautifully sunny, blue-skied Seattle to come home to a horribly stormy San Diego. What. The. Fuck.
So, I got my vacation and my back rub. I got flowers and I got to meet Mike. I found a temporary cure to my persistent anxious insomnia. Oh and I spent a little time with a nice guy who didn't mind letting me crash at his place for four days, and who applied love and affection when needed.
Chaos was dulled for a bit this weekend; pacified by distance, by sun, by breathing a different city and by kisses on the forehead. Lightened, even, by hand-holding and kissing in elevators and on escalators, and sarcasm. Constantly talking is not necessarily communicating. For once, a different medium. It was so nice that instead of using all these senseless little words, I could feel more with the way he hugged me. And for once, I left my pen and journal at home. Left the camera at home. Wanted to see the world with my own eyes.
My bed is too expansive. I need to sleep in small crammed quarters. That was our solution to my insomnia. A small space between a nice lumpy pillow and a nice warm body. For the weekend at least. Maybe now I just need a good therapist and a prescription for some really strong sleeping pills. I'm tired of the bad dreams, of waking up suddenly, of restless subconscious half hours; and it's a lot harder without someone next to you when you wake up to ask, "Are you okay?" and give you a big hug to make it all go away.
The flowers I received from a week and a half ago are dying, but I think this new bouquet I brought home with me will last awhile.
I'm being hopeful. But maybe I should stop wearing my heart on my sleeve. I'm being numb.
For now, I suppose I will clean and unpack and prepare to breathe in and work about life. I'll do it while listening to disc 1 of the fabulous six part mix that Jason made me (he's a swell boy), and I'll dance a little to the rain outside and pretend it's the sun setting outside his window and the time will just freeze and everything will be lovely and perfect again.
And that it won't fucking hurt to wake up alone in the morning.
Man, I'm dramatic.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Who woulda thunk that my best friend knew my soulmate (by a few degrees of separation) the whole time? Sometimes the world is that small, I guess!
The comments function just got easier and better on Blogger, so I do think I will be switching and fuddling with that (if I have time) when I get back from the Windy City (not where I'm going, but apparently where my roommate thinks I'm going).
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
I like baking and cooking in heels because it makes me feel more like a domestic goddess. I bake compulsively when I'm stressed.
Needless to say, I have a rack of brownies cooling and a pair of pink heels sitting in the corner after a long day. I may just bake some cookies if I get super stressed out by the end of the night.
- One revision, roughly 40 pages.
- Two revision, character sketches.
- Make 5 copies.
- Start forms for letters of rec.
- Packing for a long weekend in Seattle (?!??).
- Undergraduate apprentice forms.
- Abroad transfer petitions.
- Critique & email 18 peers.
- Deposit paycheck (I really need to get direct deposit).
- Work.
- 2 classes.
- Tomorrow night flight.
I feel cold underneath my skin. That perhaps I have turned cold-blooded. Cold-blooded, cold-hearted.
Oh! If only I could be so lucky.
I must confess: I love flowers. Everyone who says flowers are overdone/cliche/etc. are big fat liars. Flowers are fabulous. I love receiving flowers, I love giving flowers, I love picking flowers. I love flowers in vases, water bottles, and jars. Flowers from fancy florists, flowers from Trader Joe's, flowers picked from the side of the road. Flowers delivered by a man in a white truck, flowers hand delivered with a devilish grin, flowers as praise and congratulations, flowers as an insinuation. I love flowers.
None of my girlfriends yesterday protested flowers; in fact, they were sad that their significant others/boyfriends/bed buddies/what-have-yous didn't give them flowers (despite everything else, they would still mention "but he didn't get me flowers or anything").
Trust me when I say the way to win your lady friend over is to give flowers; unless she is highly allergic. Then I would suggest a lovely box of chocolates, or a mixed CD, or a book of poetry (or science fiction short stories, whatever floats her boat).
This is not a belated Valentine's present suggestion; I don't believe in the holiday designed to make people feel bad. Though I did receive an amazing amount of great voicemails to remind me that I am indeed, very loved. I suppose it's not all bad to spread the love.
But no. This is simply a profession of my insatiable love for flowers. And appreciation for those who give and receive flowers.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Dear Gwen Stefani,
Please stop growing Harajuku girls in your backyard and having them follow you around like oompa loompas to your Willy Wonka. Quite frankly, your obsession with Japan scares everyone. Also, please stop stealing other cultures only to become bored and move onto another one. Jamaica is still not over being dumped by you, and they are making it known by wrecking havoc in your LAMB bag collection with granny-bag-factory Le Sport Sac. One more plea: please do not pursue this solo career. This shit is not bananas.
With love, a once adoring and now slightly disillusioned fan,
Ann
P.S. You're still a super hot female, though.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Happy 4th Birthday to my website. What a strange trip this has been.
My friends from out of town have all left, and I'm alone to feel the hole that the end of Vagina Monologues has left. There was this beautiful moment I've been reliving in my head, right before our very last show opened. Half the cast was dancing underneath the pink and blue lights testing on stage to "Video" by India.Arie.
I can't remember the last time I have really slept. I can't make myself go to bed before 3am, and I usually have to get up for school and work at 8am. In between, I'm having horribly restless sleep fragmented into periods of bad dreams, waking up, tossing, turning, fade into unconsciousness, repeat. What is wrong with me? Help! My homelife feels safe and wonderful and warm, but the rest of the life is very chaotic -- to be euphemistic. I've been having intense shooting chest pains and pressure/migraine headaches that I will try to sleep off only to wake up to worse symptoms. Yes, good thing I have three novella rewrites (each approximately 45 pages), half a script, and a midterm essay due this week; all before leaving on a jetplane Thursday night. Maybe when I get back I will dust myself off and move on; maybe that's what I need.
My soundtrack lately has been India.Arie's Acoustic Soul album. It makes me feel so damn good.
Now all I need is a backrub and a vacation.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
"Unfold" by Jason Mraz
Exhausted. But very alive, well, and happy.
One more show tomorrow night; I don't want it to be over! I have learned so much through this experience working in The Vagina Monologues -- including that for once, growth doesn't have to hurt. I've made amazing new girlfriends, including one new roommate who will leave me a voicemail about three nonsequitor events that transpired in the short two hours that we spent apart (at the time; it's been about 5 since) -- ranging from her boyfriend's court hearing to the girl who has my Anthropolgie (by way of a very very generous twin sister) sweater but is not nearly as cute as I am in it to toothpaste. I <3 my Cunt!
Also, I got a lot of comments about the shirt I was wearing yesterday; so I thought that I'd spread the word some more: resonancelife.com. $20 buys twenty gallons of purified drinking water, twenty hydration packs, food for twenty people for three days, twenty syringes for medical aid, a week's supply of antibiotics for two people, and material for one temporary shelter -- AND a fucking rad shirt for your sexy self.
Sooo Good
- promotion to Senior Staff Writer
- the honeymoon period :)
- friends travelling for hundreds of miles to see the show
- family
- Chinese New Year (& the influx of much needed money)
- traditions
- directing
- the idea of my novella revisions
- flowers and sweet notes! (yay for sweet Kira & Shauna!)
- feeling pride and satisfaction with life's work
- short skirts, body rolls, & velvet red lipstick
- moans
- Betsey Johnson dress & skirt
- art and activism
No Good
- breakouts
- morning midterms
- sore backs
- applications
- actually executing my novella revisions
- stupid boys
- stupid people
- internship bitch work
- lack of sleep
- grey cold sprinkle?
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Annie is so fucking awesome. We've been friends for like, a gazillion years, and when we talk it's still like whoa. We haven't lost that lovin' feelin.
The Vagina Monologues open tonight. I'm so excited/scared!
Monday, February 07, 2005
Novella Bits
From The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho:
"What's the world's greatest lie?" the boy asked, completely surprised.
"It's this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what's happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That's the world's greatest lie."
--
From Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke:
You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything.
So you musn't be frightened, dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression, since after all you don't know what work these conditions are doing inside you?
--
From my currently working novella:
"What is sex without love then?" He asks.
"Simple." She replies.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
"Ce Matin La" by Air
I finished Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters To A Young Poet today; it is really good and short. Highly recommend it. Also, recently I've been introduced to Louis Cannizzaro's work which is incredibly charming and brilliant.
For the wagon-hopping:
01. Comment with your name & I will write something about you.
02. I will then tell you what song reminds me of you.
03. Next, I will tell you who you remind me of, celebrity/animated or otherwise.
04. Last, I will try to name a single word that best describes you.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Sweat, baby, sweat.
While I was at the gym tonight, I almost died. Not because of my obesity, but because of freshman boys.
The treadmills are above the weight pit. I'm happily running along, pounding that conveyer belt like nobody's business (to Shut Up by the Black Eyed Peas & Independent Women Pt. 1 by Destiny's Child, if you must know), and I'm trying to avoid eye contact with the television suspended from the ceiling because it's showing the State of the Union address and, quite frankly, watching George W. on mute is just as funny. So I'm staring off into space, more or less into the weight pit. A somewhat attractive, yet clearly freshman, boy is lifting weights and acting like hot shit. He sets the weights down, cocky-style, and sort of leans back to marvel in his brilliance. Then he TRIPS and falls backwards against the set of weights. Thinking nobody saw him, he quickly looks around and acts like nothing happened. I try so hard not to laugh because I'm running at 5.7 mph and in my attempt not to laugh I start flopping around and fall forward to slap STOP. Shauna, who was running next to me, freaked out in alarm and has now decided she can never work out with me again because I have too much fun at the gym.
Another gym related story: random moments in my past run through my head while at the gym. Like when Nicole said, "What the fuck? I can't be bad at sex, I do yoga!"
I will leave you with my workout playlist and this recommendation: Trader Joe's Organic Vanilla Bean yogurt is sooo good.
Ann's Workout Playlist
I'm A Slave 4 U, Britney Spears
Shut Up, Black Eyed Peas
Harder To Breathe, Maroon 5
My Happy Ending, Avril Lavigne
Fighter, Christina Aguilera
Push It, Garbage
Get Up And Go, Hanson
Why Can't I, Liz Phair
You Make Me Sick, Pink
Hit Or Miss, Newfound Glory
Don't Let Me Down, No Doubt
Too Young, Phoenix
Punk Rock Princess, Something Corporate
Breathe, Michelle Branch
Somebody's Baby, Phantom Planet
Objection (Tango), Shakira
Dirrty, Christina Aguilera
I know what to say but I don't know where to begin.
Realizing: Me, myself, I've got nothing to lose.
Talking bout 'ginas.
So it turns out that all three of our shows sold out.
So thrilled!
Lately, all I can do is emote.
One of my favorite phrases, ever: VAGINA MOTHERFUCKERS!
According to my roommate, I seem like the type of person to naturally have a nose piercing. I've always hated my nose. But lately I've been reconciling with it and realizing it's not because I actually hate it, but because my mom told me it was big and ugly. She used to pinch it everyday when I was little to try and make it grow smaller and pointier. I'm being encouraged to pierce and reclaim it.
What I really need is someone to hug me in a bathtub and catch my tears in paper cups.
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