Unforgiven

Here’s my most recent poem. Was originally intended as a song, but it turned out to be a bit too long for that. So now I can say the “chorus” is a bit like in Poe’s “The Raven”. There you go, I can talk myself out of anything. Enjoy!


Unforgiven

Many moons ago
They met sailing boats
And when her friend asked three months later
She said “I married him”

Stone by stone
Step by step
Two lives build one existence
Day by day
Year after year
She lost all independence

I wonder sometimes
How much we’ve really forgiven you
And how much there really was
To forgive
I wonder

Many moons ago
A child was born
But when he grew old enough to help the father
He said “son, you betrayed me”

Little by little
On and on
The son broke away
But day by day
Year after year
His love was killing him

I wonder sometimes
How much we’ve really forgiven you
And how much there really was
To forgive
I wonder

Not so long ago
A little girl hit rock bottom
After reanimating, her grandmother smiled warmly to her
She said “a new life awaits me”

Minute by minute
Hour by hour
She’s building her inland empire
Bit by bit and
Word by word
Her love grows higher
But

I wonder sometimes
How much we’ve really forgiven you
And how much there really was
To forgive
I wonder

I wonder sometimes
What forgiveness is about
How much each of us needs
How much each of us should give

After all the storms we’ve been through
After all those sleepless nights
Is it love or is it pity
Making us ease you to your death
Is it love or is it weariness
Making us forgive?



Peace,

Anna

I Don’t Care, Because Even If I Have To Dig Ditches For The Rest Of My Life, I Shall Be A Ditch-Digger Who Once Had A Wonderful Day!

Still no news from the front. I think I messed up. I don’t know how, but I must have.

So I sent him an email asking if he wanted to have coffee, big fucking deal! I simply cannot not be me apparently. And me acts. Sometimes too much, I know… *sigh*

Did he find this blog? Was it something completely different? I suppose I’ll never know. It’s been four days and he hasn’t answered the coffee email. Nevertheless, as soon as I talk business (we’re using a photo of his in the new issue of my paper), he replies within not even half an hour. The “how are you doing” question he deftly ignores.
I should think it’s common courtesy for anyone who has made overt advances to someone else, to at least answer an email with a simple “no thank you, I’ve changed my mind”, “yes, but I’m busy this week, so not now” or “right on, where?!”. At 32, Patrick should know better than to play the nasty If-I-say-nothing-she’ll-get-what-I-mean game. To all the gents reading this post: we don’t get what you mean when you don’t call us back. We go up the walls with self-doubt and overanalyse every little thing that’s happened between you and us. So do the polite and intelligent thing and call the ladies back, even if it’s to dismiss them. At least we’ll unmistakeably know what’s going on.

The bottom line on Patrick? I’m really confused and hurt by now. Why invite yourself to my party and make sure a dozen times I’ve got your number, just to not reply to emails later on? You’ve made the first step and I’ve reacted positively. Why on earth would you punish me for making the second step? I don’t know about other girls, but I can’t sit around, all batty lashes and pouty lipped, playing the waiting game. If that scares you, too bad. I wish it didn’t, but tough luck, right? I suppose in three weeks or so I’ll get back to him on that house-warming party invitation he’s wrung from me. I’m so confused… sheesh. Well, I guess I’m pulling the reserve parachute now. It’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the sudden stop. Let’s hope I haven’t just hit the ground. I don’t think so, but… do the dead know they’re dead?

I know I get enthusiastic really quickly, but haven’t you ever felt someone was just right for you without needing to think further? What happened to feeling the feeling instead of thinking the feeling? For fuck’s sake. I hate this. Stop that train. Why must things always be difficult and complicated? *I* would appreciate them if they came easily!

I love big, I cry hard and I try to laugh harder. If that goes against your philosophy, I can’t help you and then maybe we really weren’t made for each other in the first place. But maybe, just maybe, you also need to be more courageous.

Peace,

Anna

current music: Our Battles by Maria Mena

What’s The Word That’s Burning In Your Heart?

The words burning in my heart are: I think I’m falling in love.

I have a million butterflies all competing for attention in my tummy.

I squeak incontrolably whenever I see his picture but I cannot help but go look at the few, precious, shots I have of him.

Can this be real?

I’m refusing to take off my pink festival bracelet because a very silly part of me believes firmly that it has brought me nothing but luck so far and I can need all the luck I can get at the moment.

I can’t stop thinking about him.

My first thought in the morning goes to him.

I’m literally going crazy because he hasn’t answered my “wanna go for coffee” email yet and I’m convinced he must’ve changed his mind, though rationally he’s probably just had a busy day or sumpin’.

I check my emails twice an hour.

I checked my emails this morning before even going under the shower and was sad when my inbox was empty.

I cannot stop talking about him. I must be driving my friends up the wall by now.

My heart beats fast whenever I get an sms, thinking it might be from him although I know he’s not the sms-writing type, at all.

I see him everywhere. I must’ve turned around for at least 20 men today, simply because they looked vaguely like him in shape and size.

I dreamt of him last night, usually that’s a sure-fire sign I’m falling in love.

I’m scared shitless because I realised today that what is happening to me with him very closely mirrors the way Steve and I got together. It makes me giddy and wary at the same time.

Why, oh why, oh why hasn’t he written me an email back?

What if I’m completely mistaken? What if he doesn’t like me at all?

Why did I have to be so rash and send him that email yesterday? Fuck!

I couldn’t help myself. Nothing could have stopped me from writing that email.

He asked for the link to this blog but I was too much of a coward to give it to him! What if he couldn’t handle the content of these posts and it ruins everything?

This is going so fast!

This is going so slowly!

Am I ever going to see him again?

I want him!

I lie in bed and right before I go to sleep, I imagine what it would be like if he kissed me and his arms held me and his nose sniffed my hair and his fingers gently stroked my belly.

I know this is crazy.

I can’t conceal how I feel.

I’m hopeless.

What if tomorrow goes by without an email from him? What then?

I have to see him again!

And because I can’t find anything more to say, I’ll stay in the spirit of the title of this post and put up a few wonderful quotes from my favourite love movie of all times, the only love movie that actually deserves that denomination if you ask me: Garden State.

Andrew Largeman: It’s amazing how much of my life has been determined by a quarter inch of plastic.

Sam: Oh my god, you’re totally freaking out. You’re like, bolting for the door.

Sam: I know it hurts. But it’s life and it’s real. And sometimes it fucking hurts, but it’s life and it’s pretty much all we got.

Andrew Largeman: Good luck exploring the infinite abyss.
Albert: Thank you. And hey, you too.

Andrew Largeman: I got a little buzz going. And I like you. So there’s that, I guess I have that.
Sam: I can tap-dance, you wanna see me tap-dance?
Andrew Largeman: I would *love* to see you tap-dance.

Andrew Largeman: I don’t want to waste another moment of my life without you in it.

So that’s that. I can’t think coherent thoughts. I have to, I’ve got a million things on my plate right now that all require coherent thoughts, but I can’t do it. I’m all over the place and I never saw it coming which makes it all the more difficult to grasp. I can’t think properly, damn you Nerd-Patrick!

But it’s all love, I guess,

Anna

current music: Man Must Dance by Johnossi

I Am Putting Myself To The Fullest Possible Use, Which Is All I Think That Any Conscious Entity Can Ever Hope To Do

Hey fans!

When I opened my laptop, it was 2am again. I swore not to blog tonight, but I am foresworn. Today, again, has been very awesome.
For those of you who were worried sick about the whole “pretty and festival appropriate” sartorial issue I mentioned last night, I figured something out, but I’m not quite sure. I wore my well-fitting blue jeans and one of my turquoise linen shirts from Egypt. I hope that outfit was ok! My god, I would like to have those problems…

We had two band interviews today and they went really well! It’s exciting to meet these very cool musicians and talk with them, even if it’s only for a little while. While we were waiting for Bligg, Afrob waived to me from his dressing room. Cool, huh?
Seriously though: today I was a bit tired, so I wasn’t quite as close to fainting with sheer joy of being there, but it was great to be there, say hi to those I met yesterday etc…Of course, my biggest joy was to see Patrick again. And now I can safely say: I might be crushing on him a lot harder than I thought. I know “this is going quickly” and all that, but I don’t care. It’s been so long since I felt like this! Besides… it would really make me feel good if something happened with him now. That would mean it didn’t take me a year (or longer) to find new love after Steve. But back to the reality of things: we saw each other here and there throughout the day and we shared the pictures we took. Twice, we had rather long conversations and twice, I thought “wow….”. It turns out that there’s a lot of things we have in common (like our not-drinking habits or the same view on materialism – unnecessary most of the time ’cause there are more important things in life) but also things where we can/could feed off each other’s passion for it. He is a damn good photographer (and I want to learn how to make better pictures) and I’m slowly but surely becoming a walking encyclopedia for movies – thanks for the great set of genes, Dad! – and he has just started going to the movies more again. And he likes 2001: A Space Odyssey! This man has got to be my dream man, what did I do to deserve to have such a wonderful creature in my path?
It was funny though, ’cause this morning I told him how I had to blog last night and why and he seemed really interested in the fact I blog. I was kinda afraid he would ask for the link (which he didn’t, yet) because I wouldn’t have known what to do. After all, even though the probability is low, there is a chance he’s not seeing things the way I do, and then what? But I need to be honest here and I need to talk about it and I’m not going to not mention him because I know he’s reading the blog. My heart is right here and open and well, if he really were to read this, I suppose it would be a make or break situation. Well, so far, he doesn’t know where to find me on the net.
I am however, falling fast for him. Fast, as in: pull on the parachute now Anna!
It was beautiful with him today. The sharing pictures and commenting on them was fun and I got to see how well he photographs. He was interested in seeing mine and only commented nicely on them (but I suspect he may be biased *g*). A couple of times, I accompanied him to the main stage and waited with him for a gig to begin. The first time, I said I needed to find someone who would take a few pictures of me at the festival (I *meant* with *my* camera) so that I would have proof positive I’d been there. It didn’t take him two seconds to say “I can take a few of you right now!” and there he was already taking a few steps backwards and pointing his impressive-looking lens at little ol’ me. He showed them to me right away and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! I was beautiful on them! I looked happy and perky and just a little naughty. Now that’s what I call seeing someone with the eye of love (all you nay-sayers, shut up *lol*).

One last anecdote from yesterday and then it’s really bedtime. I have a new friend who I met through Uni-Patrick called Jenny. She’s an artist (my goodness, you should see her paintings and drawings), 20 years old, currently working to earn enough money to pay her art school next year. She’s a huge fan of Bligg, a Swiss rapper, who is hosting the Open Air and performed yesterday. At one of the gigs, she suddenly saw him standing in a corner, listening in. She started yapping and pointed him out to me (I’d never even heard of the fella prior to this unholy mess *g*) and I asked her if she wanted me to sneak a few pictures for her. Of course she did! So I went and circled him as inconspicuously as I could and took a few pics, but after a few moments, his manager noticed and then got a really puzzled look on his face: “why on earth is this girl sneaking pictures when she’s wearing a press badge and could just ask…?”. I decided it was true and went up to Bligg, told him who I was and asked him if I could take a picture up close. He said “yes, but only if you pose with me” and faster than you can say “click” he handed my camera to his manager, took me in his arms and had our picture taken. He’s a sly one that guy…. Since we were this familiar, I decided it was time to get Jenny, who couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her face was clearly saying “ohmygodohmygodohmygo she *touched* him!!!!!!”. I went to get her but when she realised what for, she almost started hyperventilating and I had to hold her arm quite firmly so that she wouldn’t run away. She was almost in tears when Bligg put an arm around her and posed for me. She didn’t manage to say anything to him (which she kicked herself for later)!
My point is: that was one of my highlights of the day and possibly the whole festival. I was able to make a friend so very happy because I had the privilege of having a press badge. She was beaming with joy and couldn’t stop thanking me, I was almost embarassed. But it was sooooo good. It was so good to be able to make someone that happy with a few moments that cost me no effort. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Being “the press” is so totally worth it, if just for moments like this one yesterday. It’s all just so worth all the hard times.

Peace,

Anna

God Writes The Script, Sweetie. I Just Say The Lines

It’s 2am, but I’m too wired to sleep. I have done and felt so many things today that I need to put them down in writing or else I won’t be able to go to sleep.

Today was the first day of the 3-day Zurich Open Air. We got there around 2:30pm and they gave us our badges, bracelets and an orientation. I could not believe I was truly holding a press badge in my hand and wearing a pink plastic bracelet identifying me further! I was so psyched (beware, I’m likely to use this word to exhaustion in this post), the realisation that this is now my life, my love, my job was so intense I couldn’t stop squeaking with joy. Patrick and Pascal joked that by the time we’d reach the press tent, I’d already have died of a heart attack if I kept it up. Do you know butterflies, from when you’re in love? I had butterflies the size of buicks not five minutes after our arrival at the festival!

The press tent is great. We’re provided with wireless lan, free picture database access, cooled soft drinks and an area to do band interviews that looks a bit more glam than the rest of the tent, which is basically just beer benches and long tables. It’s awesome to have that tent at our disposition, we can safely leave our stuff there and when it all gets too much or too hot outside, it’s a good place to retire and have a breather. So no lugging around my backpack, no having to buy drinks (or food, we get free coupons for that too) and a non-muddy place to sit. Wow.
When they oriented us, I was walking next to a guy who was there on his own. Most of us have come in pairs or more, but there are a few lonesome warriors there too. Anyways: I asked him who he worked for and he said some Zurich internet platform and that since he was the only festival experienced guy who worked there, they sent him to cover the event, although he’s actually a web designer. I couldn’t believe it: I’m there half an hour and the one man I pick to ask his name is a bloody computer nerd! Everytime. Every friggin’ time, without fail, I pick the nerd. It’s a phenomenon so freaky it should be studied, but don’t get me wrong: I don’t mind nerds. Nerds can be sweet and they are usually quite intelligent. You just have to know how to handle them. Patrick (that’s his name) however is a hell of a lot more handsome than any nerd I’ve ever met. Which is also why I didn’t smell a rat *lol* He’s tall, strong but not bulky, has blonde hair, a bit of sexy stubble and magical blue eyes. I couldn’t take my eyes off him! At first however, I was just intrigued by the fact he was so handsome. I didn’t have any other thoughts at that point.
Later on, we got talking in the press tent. Turns out he shares my disgust of discos, listens to extremely cool music (like Sigur Rós), *is* quite intelligent and his idea of a good time is pretty much the same as mine. When going out: movies, concerts, dinners or nice bars. Anywhere you can still have a conversation with your company is good. Uni-Patrick found that boring, I found it cool.
After Uni-Patrick left, Nerd-Patrick and I continued talking. Suddenly, I was telling him when I was moving back to Zurich (start of July) and how glad I was I’d finally found a flat. The next thing I know, he’s inviting himself to my planned house-warming party! I was baffled and I’m not baffled easily. The last thing I ever expected was to get hit on at the Open Air. Not even the shadow of the thought of this possibility crossed my mind, but here I was and Nerd-Patrick was begging me to take his phone number! I was completely overwhelmed. Then I had to go. He actually managed to tag along with me for a while. I still cannot believe this all happened to me! I love, love, love it! Remember how I said I wasn’t over Steve? Well I am now! Or at least, Steve and any thought concerning him can go fuck themselves. I mean it. Funny thing is, he’s actually quite a shy guy. One of the first things he said to me was he could never do an interview because he’d be too embarassed and he said he never knows how to approach anybody the right way, so a lot of the time, he doesn’t. Well, he must’ve had a fairy godmother today, because hey, if that wasn’t approaching me the right way, I’m the Queen of England.
I have a total schoolgirl crush on Nerd-Patrick and I can’t stop smiling. It’s true! My jaw is actually hurting and if I’m not careful with that I’ll be looking like The Joker by the end of the festival.
The end of today’s episode of “Unbelievable, Anna Got Hit On Again!”? I gave him my phone number, he gave me his and then he transformed back into the shy computer geek he is. I’m so glad I got to meet him in the short time he had his glass slippers on, because I’ve always dreamed of a man who would just be upfront and say: “I’m really liking this conversation and I’d like to get to know you better. Can I give you my phone number and will you give me yours?”. I cannot wait to see him again tomorrow!!!!

In other fabulous news: I met Simon again! He’s a guy who studies with my friend Miriam and whom I gave a guided tour of the Tutanchamun exhibit when it was in Basel 2 years ago. We didn’t really keep in touch, although I don’t know why, ’cause he’s really nice. He was at the festival though and I got his phone number again and we caught up and promised we’d stay in touch. Lovely.

Ok, I really must go to bed now, because I have to get up early to do my laundry and then make myself pretty and festival-appropriate, which I suspect will be quite a challenge. Damn Nerd-Patrick, I wasn’t expecting to have to look good this weekend *LOL*!
Y’all take care, more festival news are likely to follow soon, so stay tuned.

Many kisses from a girl who is about to OD on her own, very possibly toxic, mix of endorphins and adrenaline.

Anna

We May Be Through With The Past But The Past Ain’t Through With Us

Hello ladies and gentlemen, how nice of you to join us on this wonderful night!

Have you ever cried because you heard a song you used to sing for someone? I have. I (almost) accidentally listened to “You Owe Me Nothing In Return” by the amazing Alanis and voilà! up came every emotion I ever felt for or with Steve. I love music. I hate music.

Have you ever woken up one morning and felt an overwhelming feeling of calm and pure bliss because you knew you were in the right place, at the right time? I have. I’m covering (with Patrick and Pascal) an Open Air music festival here in Zurich, complete with press badges and a band interview with Johnossi. My adrenaline level rises just at the sheer thought of it. I’m so lucky. Can you believe I will even get the Johnossi album from the management, for free?! I’m so lucky, so lucky in love with my job.

Have you ever received a piece of mail full of things that made you feel so very good and so very sad at the same time? I have. Laila’s (sweet, sweet, sweet) last email updated me on all the major going-on’s at Entity and my heart felt a huge pang, because I can’t be a part of it right now. I know I chose this path and I know this path is right, but it still hurts to have left all of you at Entity behind. I do however still consider myself a part of it, that keeps me from hurting too much. Once Entity, always Entity. Hey, that could be a new slogan for the Borg, Resistance is Futile was getting boring and way too intellectual, don’t you think?
In all seriousness though, we may have to let go of some things from the past, but Entity is not one of them for me. What I’ve learnt there in terms of friendship and acting will never let go of me anyways. I use it every day!

Have you ever felt physical discomfort that just vanished at the sight of someone you liked? I have. Today at work I finally got to see Maurizius again, who although he is not actually there a hell of a lot, has definitely become my favourite colleague in the short time that I’ve known him better. I was having stomach cramps but once I saw him, the endorphins quickly removed them. He’s an incredibly talented, driven young man who, methinks, will one day be up on that stage at the Kodak Theatre giving an acceptance speech. I admire him for having accomplished in his short life (he’s 18) what others do not manage to do in a lifetime. If you go visit his website that I’ve linked, you will see what I’m talking about. What is more: he is extremely funny and caring. Wow. If it wasn’t for his girlfriend (who seems just as incredible as he is) I’d be running around with a t-shirt reading “Mr Staerkle, I wanna have your babies”. But I’m a >coughcough< wholesome young lady.

Have you ever (this is the last one, don’t worry) liked something without knowing what it was about it that spoke to you? I have (it’s the last one, I swear!). Today in one of my film classes we watched Bunuel’s (sorry for losing the ~ on the n, but my keyboard won’t do that) “Un Chien Andalou” from 1929. It’s a surrealistic movie, 16 min long, that Bunuel co-wrote with Salvador Dalí. I’ve always been a great admirer of Dalí and I usually like surrealistic art a lot. This movie was no different – though nothing, and I mean *nothing* could have prepared me for the horror of the first scene. It’s a gruesome, yet strangely beautiful nightmare. Do you know that feeling you get when you wake up from a nightmare and are afraid to go back to sleep? This movie incarnates this feeling.
But back to my main question. I never knew why I liked surrealism so much. Today, I think I’ve come closer to the answer, and though some of you might find me presumptuous when you read the next lines, this is it: I practice surrealism in my art. Or better: I practised surrealism in my art without even knowing it. Other art forms that were on the surrealists’ program (and characteristical of it) were these: écriture automatique (automatic writing, a technique where you sit down, let go of any moral, cultural and other bindings and just write down the thoughts as they come to you), collages, painting and cadavres exquis (a social game designed to create surrealistic drawings and stories or phrases).

My first attempt at making art (I’m not counting my play-doh and manga copying days) was making collages. I spent hours upon hours cutting out, glueing together, filling up with little drawings, experimenting with materials, sizes and themes. Then came painting. I can’t really draw very well (except maybe a few objects or copying something), so I turned to painting in 2005 to express my emotions. I cannot paint unless there is feeling behind it. Actually, I paint my feelings. So naturally, these paintings turn out to be, well, often a little surreal (NB: I’m not comparing myself to any of the great, real surrealistic painters. I’ll never even be remotely that good). Cadavres exquis is a game played in my family (especially on the crazy, intellectual, French side of it) since I can remember. I think I must’ve joined in it at a very early stage in my childhood, only a few years after learning how to write properly. It’s wicked fun and I always loved it. It also tells a lot about people and how they think and view things. Écriture automatique is something I started practicing about 8 years ago and that helps me unwind, rearrange, focus and clear my mind. Only I didn’t know what the actual term for doing that was until a few weeks ago.
Surrealism was a tendency that came hand in hand with the discovery of psychoanalysis. It used the newly researched therapy and analysis methods from Freud and tried to express it in art. It also tried to express and understand the human psyche through art. Most of you know that I’ve often used the phrase “my art is pure therapy”. I guess I was unconsciously going through motions that helped me cope with my problems. Since I’m the creative type, this found a way out through various artistic expressions. Lastly, writing for a living is, I think, the ultimate therapy for me. *lol* Interestingly enough, Freud once compared psychoanalysis to archaeology: you carefully dig up, layer by layer, what is hidden beneath the common soil you know and walk on every day. It’s no wonder I felt so empowered while in Egypt and it’s no wonder that after that experience (which I miss) I was finally ready to go further and face myself a little more.
Long story short: I like surrealism because it reminds me of the things that are keeping me balanced and healthy.

And since we are speaking of art, I will use blogspot’s add image function and post a few pics I took. That’s my latest craze in terms of art (it’s about time I get my gouache colours to Switzerland!). Let me know if you think I’m any good. And let me know if you think I’m rubbish, after all, I’m trying not to embarass myself completely on the net. That is, I’m adding images if I find out how it bloody works…(edited to add: ok, so it’s not working, but I suspect it’s my internet connection that’s out of whack – so for higher comfort, I decided to post my pictures at my flickr account, until this here has been resolved. the link to my flickr pics is on the right)

Cheers,

Anna

ps: while finishing this post I got an email from my mum about this very theme (surrealism, not add image functions that won’t do what you tell them to) and she just told me my French grandfather was highly involved in highly dubious and apparently often highly disgusting matters concerning French surrealism in his younger years. He was quite a débauché and was friends, in the 50s, with a fanatic surrealist who later went on to found his own philosophic and literary school. The genetic empire strikes back, yet again. I think I should maybe start to believe in stuff like genetic memory. I’m not sure how much I would like it, but who knows…

current music: Our Battles by Maria Mena

Good Morning Dave

Hello my friends,

So, you have found your way to my new blog. That makes me very happy. I’ve been a little behind on posting on my old blog and I realised that it was not only due to my chronic lack-of-time-to-do-anything-worth-doing at the moment, but also to my not really liking livejournal’s style anymore. So this is Anna’s blog, 2.0, new, improved and shiny! I’m hoping for it to be more interactive than my old one. Anyone can leave comments, there’s an email address on top of the page you can use if you are new to my blog, a nifty list of links I recommend, a better archiving system (for there is one now) of my previous posts and a prreetee pictshuah I took myself so you can look me in the eyes when you’re commenting. Grand, is it not?

So onwards ho to new blog horizons!

First of all, let me start by explaining a little more about what I intend this new blog experience to be for me and for you. The title “The Golden Lasso” was not chosen because I’ve recently taken to riding bulls and wearing chaps, but because of a very special lady called… Wonder Woman. One of this dame’s weapons is, you guessed it, her Golden Lasso. Not only does it stretch to any length, it also gives the wielder the power to control whoever is caught by it. Furthermore, whoever that is can only tell the truth as long as they are surrounded by the Lasso. I try to be Wonder Woman, the Lasso and the Captive and I see my readers similarly.
I want this blog to be about truth. I noticed that in my last livejournal posts I kept editing, rewriting and plain deleting stuff that I had a feeling might be too much for readers to take or might reach the wrong people or would simply shed an unadvantageous light on me and my feelings. This blog is an attempt to say “no more of this chicken shit crap!” I trust each and every one of you that has come here and I know you will understand my words. For everyone new to the blog (and I do hope there will be some), which means any one you guys give this link to or who stumbles across it, they will see me as I am and they will have to cope, or not. I, however, won’t hold back. So there, you’ve been warned
Then again, this doesn’t mean I’ve decided to stop taking advice and just throw caution to the wind. Your opinions, thoughts, feelings and bits of advice mean a lot to me, so please make your voices heard, either by commenting directly or emailing me. I get loads of emails all the time, but I now try to answer personal emails within three days. Your pleas for me to shut up and quit blogging won’t fall on deaf ears. *lol*

Now that we’ve got these preliminaries out of the way, let’s really start, shall we?

I spent the long Pentecoast weekend in Munich, getting pampered by my parents. It was too short, but very sweet. Come to think of it, when I was there I read through my (handwritten) diary that went from 1994 to roughly 2002. My goodness, what an angry and sad teenager I was most of the time! It would never have contained such a phrase as “getting pampered by my parents”. It almost scared me to see such a helpless and yet, literally, screaming girl in front of obstacles I didn’t understand.
At the moment I keep fussing about my upcoming 22nd birthday, thinking “I’m getting old!”, but really, I prefer myself much more this way and with the, little, wisdom the years have brought. I noticed something the other day: I was in the train musing about how I would love to be there in say, 500 years, and how sad it is I can’t. It occured to me that most people however never seem to think about these things and therefore live very much in the moment, in the time that is given to them. Frankly, that’s probably the better attitude towards life, isn’t it? At least, that’s what all the songs say since some bloke in Ancient Rome first said “carpe diem”, right? Looking at myself now, I think I live more in the moment than I used to. Not always, mind you, but a little more. Since my hospital-stay in 2005 I’ve come to value the life I’m blessed with a lot more. I’ve come to taste the life I’m blessed with and that makes all the difference.
But back to my weekend in Munich. A lot of very pleasant things happened, but I’m just going to tell you about the most pleasant and the most important one. In short: my mother finally told me she did, in fact, love me.
One of the eternal dark spots in the difficult relationship with my mother was that she always kept me, emotionally and physically, far away. This started to change a bit in 2005 but I was not ready for it then and had too much concerning me and my health directly, for me to worry about that unsolved problem. The first time I ever felt that she might truly love me was when I moved out. She insisted on driving me to my new home after the bulk had been moved there with the help of my father and brother. We were alone in the car and I still remember how strange it felt to me that she drove me, instead of my father. I was very energetic that day and when we pulled up to the house I was about to jump right out of the car when she looked at me and said “you know, I *am* a little sad that you are leaving, I didn’t think I would be”. I was stunned. Happy, but stunned. It took me a few seconds to find a proper answer and even then I think all I managed was “I’m a little sad too”.
And though our relationship improved a little during those months, the real problem was never really touched. Things take time.
Since that summer, my mum and I have, separately, each experienced a lot. We both, however, found new friends that taught us new things and gave us new insights on who we were, are and want to be. What in the past two years was only brooding has now hatched into a beautiful, fluffy chick. My mum has finally found out what the reason was she could not let herself love me and why she always made it difficult for me to get through to her. For reasons of discretion and respect for her I will not disclose the details of our conversation, but it ended with the words “that I do, in fact, love you”. There’s no way to accurately describe what this made me feel but if you imagine a sunshine, rainfall, a glittering rainbow, a pond and a meadow with a singing girl running through it, you will get a pretty good idea. The fact that this conversation took place between a Benefit and a L’Occitane counter makes it all the more Hollywood-ish and memorable.

But since every Yin has a Yang, not everything is going peachy at the moment, so please let me complain a bit.
I’ve had a sore throat and a nasty cough and general tiredness for the past two weeks and nothing I do seems to make it better. What I really need is a holiday but I’ve got a s***load of work on my hands at the moment and exams in July before I can finally have a breather. I haven’t really found a way how to handle this problem yet. I tried keeping my weekends free and enjoying them the best I can, but it always turns out I have a myriad of things left over from the week that needs to be done on the weekend. So what else can I do? I don’t even find time to go to the cinema! Last night, after work, I went to see “Fracture” and that got me home at 1:45am. Not the healthiest choice I ever made, but at least it was a good film and the first one I got to see in ages! I’m just tired of getting up every morning with a different body part hurting. Sucks.

In other news, I’m still not over Steve. Maybe it’s the general need-for-something-tangibly-positive in my life that makes me melancholic or it’s rooted much deeper than I thought, but I’m not over him. I should be. I’m definitely not. At least a suffering artist writes good poems. Here are two I wrote last night in the train back home, with the rain pouring outside.
There was an Englishman/not English girl couple sitting across from me and I suddenly realised his inflection sounded very much like Steve’s. It was painful to my ears and heart, so I turned up the volume of my mp3 player and wrote, wrote, wrote away.

Summer Prayer

They’re completely different and yet
They’re us two and yes
I still say us and it
Never tasted more bitter

They speak our language and yet
I don’t understand a word of it
You’re still in every breath I take
Did you know, my asthma came back
This summer
This sad, sad summer

Summer never meant anything more
Than spaghetti straps and temperature changes
This year it’s everything we’ll never have again
This year it’s a river of tears, in vain

Catch a glimpse of an ugly girl in the mirror
Her eyes say “I don’t know what I’m doing here”
Her thoughts too loud, too clear
I’m too young to have known such pain
We’re all too young to have known such pain

There’s no one out there who will catch me when I fall
There’s no one in this world capable…, capable of you
And just because none of it was my fault
Doesn’t mean I’m not the one left all alone
Doesn’t mean I’m not standing in this sun’s rain
Getting soaked to the bone
Doesn’t mean I’m not broken beyond repair
Beyond repair, beyond repair

Only this morning you meant nothing to me at all
Tonight I’m almost wishing
I’d never met you at all
You know what it’s like to want to kill the pain, don’t you?

Well, I’m kinda grateful for the pain
And kinda not, I’m almost praying
I’m just not quite ready to let go
This summer
This sad, sad summer
I’m just not quite ready to let you go
This sad, sad summer
I’m just not as beautiful as last

And all I touch may turn to gold
But this heart you touched
May have turned to ash
This heart you touched
May just have shattered like glass

And this woman you didn’t love
May just have loved you,
Way too much
And this woman you didn’t love
May just have loved you,
Just too much.

Poem #2: have you ever wondered what your barcode might be? This is my current one.

Personal Barcode

Two rings to bind me
One ring to free me
One circle incomplete
And an eight for all eternity
A 42 and a 6 6 6
Scabbed wings, a pair
Scarred roots, a thousand
69 vacuui of love in between
Two rings to bind me
One ring to free me
One circle incomplete
And an eight for all eternity
A 42 and a 6 6 6
18 months and it still hurts
18 months and it still hurts

Well my friends, I think for tonight I’m all written out, so I’ll go fix myself some dinner (at least I’m eating healthy since I moved to Basel, must be the bunny rabbits’ influence) of dimsums and raspberry sorbet.
Thank you all for having come here and reaching the end of this post. Thank you for being part of my journey and allowing me to be a part of yours. And don’t be shy to spread the word about this blog.

Much love,

Anna

ps: anything that appears in underlined bold pink is a link that you can click, so you always know what I’m talking about!

current music: Internal Dialogue by Maria Mena