All the world comes in pairs. Yin and yang, right and wrong, men and women. What’s pleasure without pain?

Tonight, I went out with Miriam. We dressed up like rich girls and went to a really fancy bar adjoining one of the most famous luxury hotels here in town. It was perfect. The service, the ambiance, the conversation. The only negative thing about it was that it was a smoking bar and my clothes reeked afterwards. But it was grand, nonetheless. The barman even created a cocktail for me!

Miriam went to pick up her new boyfriend at the train station. I went home, had a late dinner and… spent the rest of the night being sick. Stomach cramps, slight nausea, the works. If I have cold water my cramps get worse. If I have warm water I get more nauseous. This is the fifth day in a row. I’m getting tired of it.

I have an exam coming up on Tuesday and I don’t know how I’m gonna make it. I feel like a failure already simply because I haven’t gotten around to studying properly, between the doc’s appointments, the crying fits and the illnesses (yes, it’s plural by now) plagueing me.

Is this really my life now? I jack myself up on pain meds and belly stuff smoothers just to get two hours of freedom in which I can enjoy a cocktail with a friend and do something I want to do? As opposed to having to give in to what my body wants and doesn’t want to do?

It’s almost 7am as I wrap up this post. I haven’t slept yet because everytime I try to wind down, my stomach rebels and I’m in the bathroom again, gasping for air, alternately cursing and whimpering in pain. I’m asking myself if I should go to bed at all now. I also have a column to write in which I’m supposed to be funny and inspired. Where’s that going to come from? Where’s anything going to come from?

Fucking hell.

Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.

Yesterday was bad. Pretty much as bad as it can get. Well, no, not exactly. It can always get worse, I suppose. But yesterday was worse than a lot of the shitty days I’ve had for the past months. I got a fever and belly ache and cramps. I had to be at my new doc’s at friggin’ 8am. I had slept three hours the previous night. I went to the docs and they had to stick me with needles again. I’ve got a really bad needle-phobia but I was actually feeling so bloody awful that I was too exhausted, nauseous and bleary eyed to get a good needle-related panic attack worked up.

Yah, that’s how I know it’s bad: when I feel too bad to go the movies or get scared of needles.

I have a hard time reaching out for help but yesterday, I just had to. Twice. Once before my doc’s appointment, when I had an hour long crying fit and ended up talking to three (!) friends around 6am who helped me off that ledge. Once after the doc’s appointment. When I came home and the fever was back, I discovered I had no more fever-lowering meds at home. No fruit juice either (it helps me when I have a fever, go figure). So I called Miriam and asked her if she could drop by with some meds and juice on her way back from work. Luckily, she immediately agreed. When she rang the doorbell, I felt like death warmed up and looked the part too, I think. I was too out of it to say more than “thank you” and and do more than take the bag from her hands and slouch back into my flat. There, I took the meds and finally, my fever subsided and I felt better. I didn’t have any juice though because my stomach was really upset and I didn’t want to bother it with sugar and acid quite yet.

Today, the fever hasn’t come back and I slept a glorious four hours (haha) but I still had to drag my sorry arse out of bed and get to the doc’s at 8am for my second iron transfusion. When I got back home, I decided to have a glass of orange juice. I took the bottle out of the bag and looked at it. It said “organic orange juice, not made from concentrate, no extra sugar”. And my heart melted. Miriam didn’t just get me any orange juice. She got me the really good stuff. And I love her for it more than words can adequately express.

I’m so alone right now. So scared, unhealthy and exhausted all the time. I hardly ever feel awake when I wake up. I’m still in a syrupy fog for hours after getting up, like a mild fever than you can’t shake. I cry about everything.

To have someone who will get me organic orange juice feels like a small but miraculous ray of light in the darkness that is swallowing me. Silly, maybe. Maybe not.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

- No, I can’t go into a movie that’s already started, because I’m anal. – That’s a polite word for what you are.

Aaah, Annie Hall. One of the best films ever made. Replete with the most hilarious, true and usable quotes ever.

I’ve been such a good girl yesterday. I sorted out my wardrobe and tidied up my DVD collection. What do I get for it? Bubkus. Nada. Zilch. A kick in the ass from my body. So, today is another bad day. To help make it better, I’ve decided I’ll tell you about my DVD collection. Hopefully, it’ll make you laugh a little. Or maybe one or two film freaks will read this and be inspired. Tickled, at least.

I frequently say that my collection is the most organised thing in my life. That’s not a lie. If anything, it’s an understatement. I am anal about my DVD collection. As anal as I am about not seeing a movie that has already started. Yes, I have that in common with Woody Allen.

A photo of said DVD collection is forthcoming, my camera batteries are just recharging right now. In the meantime, let’s see what we’ve got. Oh yes, and please keep in mind that this is not as bad as it could be. I used to order the DVDs within their categories by year of release. I don’t anymore for practical reasons, namely I couldn’t fit all that I want to fit the way I can now and the tower outside the shelves would collapse if I did. Oh, the pictshuah is ready!

Cool, now you can actually see the parts I’ll be talking about.

On top of the shelves (case?), on the left: true classics, Hitchcock movies, Stanley Kubrick movies. True classics, in my eyes, include such films like The Wizard of Oz, Citizen Kane, Easy Rider and Thelma and Louise. So they are up there. I have a rather large number of Hitchcock films but luckily, most of them are in box sets, which is really nice for storing them space-efficiently.

On top of the case (shelves?), on the right: Nouvelle Vague, films noirs, James Bond and what I call my “weird category“. Ok, so the Nouvelle Vague only has “À bout de souffle”. But a gal’s gotta start somewhere, right? Plus, I do actually have more Nouvelle Vague films, but they are on recorded DVDs that my blessed dad makes for me and all of these are actually stored somewhere else. Their numbers reach the hundreds too! I happen to have a films noirs category not so much by design but by accident. A very, very cool, happy accident. You see, two years ago I had a ghostwriting client who needed papers about films noirs. And since I didn’t have any except “The Matrix”, said client had to provide me with them so I could do the assignments. Woohoo! Since then, I’ve had my cherished and much appreciated little collection of noirs. As for my “weird” category, it is made out of films that have really… umm… weird, cryptic, strange, incomprehensible (sometimes non-)plots. Anything, basically, that leaves you puzzled and slightly weirded out will qualify. I also have Paris, Je t’Aime there because it contains many weird segments. Other “weird” films include: Donnie Darko, Spice Girls: the Movie (that was a present! albeit a very fun, completely demented in a lovely way kind of present), Hard Candy, La Cité des Enfants Perdus and Trainspotting. Some might argue with my categorisation, but hey, it’s my categorisation and it makes sense in my head. But I challenge you to this: if you can explain to me what Donnie Darko is about and what it means, I’ll change its category. Hah. Good luck with that.

The tower: its base is a metal box containing the complete Raumpatrouille Orion series. If you are not German-speaking, you will most likely not know this. It was a (involuntarily) hilarious but still very cool German science-fiction series from 1966+ – they actually shot the stock-footage of the spaceship taking off and landing on the background of the Munich Königsplatz, back when it was still completely covered in Nazi marble slabs. Today, it has a street running through it and some lovely grass in summer. No more troops marching up and down. Phooey! So, where was I? Oh yes, the tower. So, after that metal box comes my crime category. CSI (the Grissom years!) lives there, as well as the film Manhunter. Above that is the drama category. Black Snake Moan, Blindness, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, Queer as Folk (US) and Angels in America are a few of the titles housed there. These are all situated there because they’re DVDs I don’t often take out. See how I’m thinking this through? After drama, we have road movies, Tom Cruise films (I felt Xenu’s cabana boy deserved his own, given his… acting), Shakespeare and then, the big kahuna. The sci-fi category. I’ve always loved sci-fi, but I never knew how much until one day I realised this was by far my biggest category. Huh. A few favourites from this category include *does advertising announcer voice* but are not limited to: X-Files (I’m only missing season 5, woot!), Silent Running, Star Wars, Sunshine, Mars Attacks! and Barbarella. On top of these are documentaries, of which I only have two in proper DVD casings (Supersize Me and An Inconvenient Truth) – thank god. My other documentaries, of which there are what seems like thousands, are also Dad-made-DVDs and reside somewhere else. In a hot pink, sturdy plastic shopping bag, to be precise. Yah, I have not got enough shelves in my flat! What’s a girl got to do to get her dad to come over and install her some? Huh, huh? Someone tell me ’cause so far, my approach (“dad, pleeeeeeaaaaaase!”) is not working.

Now let’s go inside the case. Shelf. Whatever!

Top shelf (now we’re inside, so I’m clear about the denomination of the thingies): Simon Pegg movies, the Legally Blonde movies (I never separate movies from their sequels etc), comedies. Comedies are further divided into black comedies and “normal” comedies. There are also boxes of comedy series, like Will & Grace or Futurama, that make up the bottom layer of the large top shelf, so I can have the DVDs on top of that. It’s like a second shelf inside that top shelf. Hope that makes sense. I also have musicals and other music heavy films (Purple Rain) on the top shelf. Especially these days, Hello, Dolly! needs to be instantly accessible, lest I go self-harm by eating five double whoppers and four large fries (portions, not individual fries - duh).

Moving on to the middle shelf. By now, DVDs there are double parked, so to speak. I simply have too many! Back row: Jason Statham films, horror movies, romance. Yes, I have an unnatural love (read: obsession) with Jason Statham. He makes me salivate. And drool. And salivate. And completely and utterly giddy, squealy and excited beyond all healthy measures. I don’t care how bad is movies are (BAD), he is the king. He rules. He rocks. He turns my knees into jelly and makes my hiney tingle. So yes, Jason has his own category. Horror includes such gems like Carrie or Dawn of the Dead (remake!). Romance includes the ever funny Heartbreakers and the ever beautiful Garden State. Front row: Quentin Tarantino movies, Robert Rodriguez movies (I don’t want to separate two best friends), action movies. The latter include such action-packed fun as the new Charlie’s Angels movies, Point Break and Speed (I sort of have a mini Keanu Reeves action category within the broader category), Smokin’ Aces and Shaft, both the remake and the original.

We’re nearing the end! Congrats if you’ve made it this far. Man, I really do hope this is interesting to at least some of you. It’s really interesting to me but then again, I’m a freak and it’s my own collection, so…

But yes, finally, bottom shelf. The one that will reveal how much of a nerd/geek/crazywoman I am. In case you hadn’t got that already. We’ve got: films based on video games, films based on literature of some kind, superhero films and superheroes from comic books films. Go ahead, I’ll give you all the time you need to shake your head, roll your eyes or stop laughing. Mmmkay, are we done? Good. If you need a glass of water, just tell me and I’ll fetch you one.

Examples for the categories mentioned above would be: Hitman, Lara Croft, Resident Evil. That’s because I’m madly in love with Timothy Olyphant with his head shaved, Angelina Jolie and Milla Jovovich. Madly. It ain’t pretty, no sirree Bob. Ahem. Then we’ve got Dracula movies. Really bad ones like the Christopher Lee ones. Heheh. Oh god, I just realised: what did I do with Twilight? I put it in romance but just realised (I’m a dork) it’s based on a book. Oh no! I’ll go change that before my head explodes. Ok, phooey, that was a close one. It’s hard when one’s own stupidity gets dangerous like that. Superhero films not based on comics are things like Silverhawk (a really so-bad-it’s-funny Chinese/English film with Michelle Yeoh). My final category includes stuff like Fantastic Four, Hellboy and Watchmen. I LOVE Watchmen. The cast is so well-chosen. I love Dr. Manhattan, his blue glow and sad but loving eyes, his voice that sends shivers down my spine. And one of the most beautiful sex scene of the 2000s is definitely the sex scene between Silk Spectre II and Nite Owl II, set to Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. It sizzles. Rawr!

Squashed on top of all these, by the way, is the complete Gilmore Girls series. I simply had nowhere else to put it but there. I heart Gilmore Girls.

Anyway, in case you were on the fence about whether I’m totally mental or not, I think we resolved that now, didn’t we? Well, that’s at least one good thing done today. I hope you enjoyed this little trip around my DVD collection. And just be grateful I didn’t also take you to my Japanese DVDs section (which are shaped and cased like CDs and thus, stand in a CD rack) and through the Dad-made-DVDs. ‘Cause if you thought this was painful, you wouldn’t have been able to take these two extra sections, believeyoume. Wow, I just counted and tallied it up. I have 32 categories. Dang. I think I should maybe take a chill-pill, right?

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

Oh, I forgot. I’m supposed to see all the beautiful things in this world.

You know things are really bad when every day you tell yourself “tomorrow will be a good day, a good day” and fail the next day.

And yah, I’m being cryptic and elusive and I talk about Haiti because right now, talking about the real stuff that is bothering me is just too fucking hard. I simply don’t have enough air in my lungs to say all these things.

Peace,

Anna

If the government could just get to the kitchen, rearrange some things, we could certainly party with the Haitians!

Just a quickie about something that’s been bugging me.

Haiti.

Now, I’m assuming we all know what’s happened there lately. I think we can all agree that it’s a terrible and sad catastrophe. The loss of lives, livelihoods and loved ones is always tragic.

But, I can’t make up my mind about the help I see that Haiti is being flooded with right now.

Is this a “2012″ (the movie) scenario and should we be proud of humanity for its… humanity? I switch on my YouTube today and currently, the George Clooney and peers telethon is being broadcast live while I’m typing this.

Is this humanity gathering to help those who suffer? Is it all of us pulling on the same string to make a difference?

The girl in me who was deeply moved by 2012 and walked out of it filled with hope would LOVE to believe this is what we are witnessing.

And yet there’s a bitter and sarcastic bitch inside me who sees Samuel L. Jackson saying “call blahblahblah to help now” in his most trying-hard-to-be-cooler-than-cool voice and behind him, a plethora of major movie stars (I saw Charlize Therons, Tobey Maguire, Sigourney Weaver, Pierce Brosnan, Reese Witherspoon, Julia Roberts, Leonardo DiCaprio, just to name a few) who are manning the phones to take donations – I can’t help but wonder if they’re all just doing this as a major positive PR stunt. I mean really, they can go home telling themselves they did some good in the world and their PR people and managers can go home knowing their clients have just had a major image boost.

It seems like a circus to me, with George Clooney and Wyclef Jean as the ringmasters. I mean, Christina Aguilera is singing right now and while it’s beautiful (it’s always beautiful when she sings), she’s wearing a proper but stylish jacket and showing off her new chopped off hair. It’s free PR the likes of which all these stars, no matter how successful, can only dream of. I mean, Colin Farrell was just on screen. With greasy, James Dean slicked hair, looking bored and angry. Colin fucking Farrell. Say what you will, it’s his agent that got him in that seat tonight. I love the guy and I love his bad boy attitude, but no way he signed up for this himself.

And just now, Robert Pattinson (I can not even type his name without drooling violently) told a survivor story and told people to help. He was reading it off a teleprompter in the worst flat voice I ever heard come out of him. That was the worst acting he’s ever done.

So yah, I think this may all be convenient belly rubbing for these stars, rather than an actual help offensive.

Oh man, and now Matt Damon and Clint Eastwood are saying “and while we’re helping Haiti and the helpers there, let’s remember 9/11″. What the fuck?! Please, this is shaping up to be the worst “let’s help shit, no matter what it is as long as it makes us look good” PR stunt ever.

I need to stop watching, it’s making aggressive.

I’m not against humanity helping Haiti. Every part of the world in which something like that happens deserves help, love and compassion. Does it need to be so fake? Does it need to be so self-serving? I’m not sure the Haitians really need Beyoncé to sappily sing “Haiti I can see your halo” right now. They need help, they need money but I’m sure they couldn’t care less about stars singing moody songs and reading cheesy speeches off teleprompters. At least I know I wouldn’t care about others profiting from my distress like that.

Live 8, I read somewhere, which was meant to help so many and so much, spent more millions and resources by coordinating its concerts than it took in to actually help those the aid was meant for. This telethon for Haiti smacks of that.

So yeah, I don’t know where I stand on the issue. I think there are continuous humanitarian issues that keep being forgotten, while a once-in-a-while disaster like this gets far more attention than, in the grander scheme of things, it should. Natural disasters occur everywhere, almost every month and not every one is supported the way Haiti suddenly is.

It’s so difficult. I want Haiti to receive help, to get back on its feet, to heal. But I hate the narcissistic media circus it has all become. I prefer the Angelina Jolie humanitarian help approach: involved, continuous, not whoring out to the media. Sure, we see pics of Angie on humanitarian missions every now and then. But she does a lot more that we never see. I like that about her.

So, 2012 dream scenario or narcissistic PR stunt? What do you guys think? Help me decide.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

Plans within plans within plans.

I have dreams within dreams within dreams.

Last night, I dreamt I was in a new relationship with a dark, handsome stranger. He looked a bit like Zachary Quinto. I dreamt that we were on a Betazed-like world and we were playing in a beautiful, large, layered and complicated fountain. When he touched me, I felt no fear, no discomfort. His smile and his voice felt like warm sunshine in my veins. I was trying to please him, to be everything for him. Having someone to give so much to felt good. And when he kissed me, took me in his arms, held on to me, kissed me… his lips felt like they were meant to one day meet mine and forsake all others. We made love and while our bodies synchronised, time suspended itself. Over 24 hours later, I can still feel his mouth melting into mine and it almost tears my heart apart.

Then suddenly, I was at school. People around me talked to me like I had just awoken from a haze, like I’d bumped my head and been unconscious for a while. I was sad because he was gone. I tried telling them about him but they said I’d imagined him. They said it so many times I believed them. I started remembering him not as a real man but as a dream man. I was so sad and upset with myself that I had stooped so low on the pathetic ladder as to dream up a partner. And then, among the crowd pressing around me, I saw a backpack I knew was his. For just an instant, his face was among the myriad of blurred faces surrounding me. He smiled but just as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone. If he was real, he was gone. If he was a dream, he was gone. None of it made sense to me but all of it hurt.

I woke up, disappointed. I’ve been having similar dreams a lot lately. They’re beautiful while they last but the problem is, they don’t last for long. The awakening is always more than rude. In a way, I wish I didn’t have these dreams. Because if I didn’t, my pathetic longing for a partner would not make me feel so wretched, puerile and naive. I’m ashamed that apparently, I don’t have the strength to be my own person, to be alone and be okay with it.

On the outside, things are not going badly. I have jobs for now, my studies are okay. Worse things happen to people. On the inside, I feel forlorn, floating, fragile.

It’s so hard to hold on and yet I don’t have a choice in the matter.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

“Back in 3 seconds”

Hi everybody,

My WP stats say that you guys keep checking if there is a new post up. I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good right now. Physically but on some levels also emotionally. I have a ton of things I’d like to blog about but it’s become so much over the past few weeks, I don’t know where to start. And so it’s kinda overwhelming me at the moment.

I had a slight dizzy spell today while trying to cook and that is very unusual for me. So you see why I can’t concentrate so well on writing my usual inspired, delightfully word-crafted, ever hilarious and just plain simple fantastic posts. Well, I suppose the sarcasm function is still intact so it’s not all bad news.

Anyways, please bear with me. I miss you, I miss posting  and most of all I miss replying to your comments (thanks Maria and Christina, I noticed your last ones!), but it’s just too much right now.

See you when I’m better, I’ll definitely be back.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

I told you not to call me “woman”!

I never get tired of reading this to people. Well, women, mostly.

For some holiday levity, especially if it’s that time of the month, I give you the inspired Wendi Aarons (if you haven’t stumbled upon this already). Every woman reading this will pee her pants with laughter and every man will get some much needed insight on what NOT to say to us when we’re surfing the strawberry wave.

Enjoy my friends!

http://wendiaarons.com/2007/03/as-seen-on-mcsweeneysnet.html

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna