Take me out of a world that has you in it.

Oooookay: yoga class turned out to be life-threatening shite. It shouldn’t be called yoga, it should be called yogaerobics. The instructor came in, didn’t say hello, didn’t say what we were going to start with or do altogether and started barking orders. Apparently, I was the only one who hadn’t taken the class yet because everybody else dropped and gave her twenty. It was incredibly fast-paced and after about 20 minutes, I thought my head was going to explode. I’ve done yoga before and this was not even near yoga. I am sorely disappointed and I feel like a pussy for wiping out. That’s right, I just grabbed my stuff and left because I just couldn’t keep up with the exercises. It’s the height of irony that all the while, she kept saying “stay with yourself, concentrate on yourself, focus” – sorry, but when I can’t even remember to breathe and my leg is burning up, I have a hard time concentrating on myself. Yoga is supposed to be (at least in part) about breathing right to get the poses right. This instructor just went “drop, breathe in, jump up, breathe out” so quickly that there was effectively no time at all to breathe, let alone hold a pose. What a disappointment! I’ll keep going to the gym, of course, but I did tell them I didn’t think this is the way it’s supposed to be. Hopefully they’ll do something about it because one of the reasons I joined a gym was to be able to get a yoga class.

Other than that, the week has been pretty good so far – with the exception that my best friend is mourning her aunt who passed away on Tuesday and I can’t do anything to help her right now, because she’s in Munich.

On Tuesday I was walking home and suddenly I heard a loud, raspy, gurgly sound behind me and then the sound of someone expectorating violently. I turned aroud and saw a couple, perfectly styled to match each other and he was spitting all over the sidewalk. She was a glam-barbie-looking woman and he was a bald, burly man. I walked on and he did it again. And again. When he made the noise for the fourth time, she didn’t laugh, like the previous three times, but nudged him and told him to stop. Albeit in a friendly, cajoling way. All I could think was: “How can you even be with someone who behaves like that?” They came to a halt at the tram station where I needed to wait too. There, I saw how perfectly matched their outfits were. It was evident that he had been styled by her. No straight man walks around with the latest Hermès belt and a Louis Vuitton pair of shoes. He was also carrying a Louis Vuitton shopping bag (for him) and she was carrying a Birkin bag. They were laughing and holding each other but every now and then, she would tug at his shirt or rearrange his collar or re-tie his scarf. He was smiling but his eyes betrayed him. He felt a little emasculated. And then he cleared his throat again and spat on the ground, while he was holding her. She pursed her lips and pressed her eyes closed for a second but didn’t say anything. Saying something would have drawn even more attention to it. And all I could think was: “You can stick the man in Hermès and Vuitton but you can’t stick Hermès and Vuitton in the man”.

In other news, I answered my ex-boyfriend’s email about him getting married in April. It felt okay to do so. I did wonder, for a while, why he had felt the need to tell me this. My father says it’s because in a way, he wanted to prove to me that he was marriable, after breaking up with me, whom he would have wanted to marry back then. It’s a sound theory but I have no way of knowing whether it’s right. In my last post, I said it had taken the wind out of me a little. It did so because at the moment, I’m particularly vulnerable about everything concerning relationships. My first, stupid, instinct was to think: great, he’s rubbing my nose in the fact I’m not with anyone. Of course, this is completely silly. My ex doesn’t know whether or not I’m with someone or not (unless he reads this blog, he might). And I don’t have the feeling he wishes me bad. In fact, his email did say he wished me well. For a second, I also wondered if he had written this in the hope of me replying “don’t marry her, I want to be with you now” – a hope he still nurtured about 1 1/2 years ago, at the time of our last contact. I don’t really think that’s it either. Maybe, and that’s probably the most likely explanation, he just wanted a woman that he once loved a lot to know what he was doing with the rest of his life. I find that the most appeasing and simple explanation. I prefer it to all the others.

However, this still gives me a strange feeling. The two men I have had real relationships with are now married (well, almost). Steve got married in February (at least, that was the plan and I strongly doubt it changed). Now Elmar is engaged to be married in April. It’s not that I don’t want him to get married. On the contrary, I wish him all the happiness in the world. I know how much he has been longing for it and I know I was never meant to be his wife. But it’s still a strange feeling and I can’t really account for it or its origin. I feel really silly even having emotions about this. I don’t  want to get married now. This is not where I am at in my life. What I do long for is a relationship. One that’s a bit more lasting than my previous ones. The time is right for it, I’m ready for it. I’ve never been more ready for it. Sure, it’s a pipedream, in more than one way. I’m not a person that can be fallen in love with anymore. It stings and it hurts but it’s the reality of things. I hope, against all odds and because I am human, that this will change – sooner, rather than later – but at this point, I can’t even imagine it happening again. Somehow it’s no wonder that I am currently re-reading Dune Messiah. In it, Alia goes to dangerous lengths in order to see into a future that is clouded to her. But she is just so desperate about not being able to see that which would make her world regain sense. And she is frustrated because she feels a man in her future but can’t see his face. Dune Messiah is probably the Dune book I have read the least, out of the Dune books. I have read it more than once, but not nearly as often as I have all the other ones. I picked it up again just on a whim. What it contains sadly reflects a lot of my own situation.

Sometimes, I wish I could be taken out of this world that has love in it and beamed to a planet where this emotion does not exist. By no means is this a death wish, by no means, but I am getting exhausted. I can’t keep up with anyone (heck, my little brother of 15 has turned into a lady killer) and I can’t express or share the love that is overwhelming and filling me, yet at the same time falling down more and more into the dark abyss that is my aching heart. I don’t know how to handle myself in a world with love in it anymore. I’m happy for all those who know and have love in their lives. I just can’t deal with the disappointment and aching anymore.

Live long and prosper, all you loving beings you, peace,

Anna

Run, fatboy, run!!

Not much time, zipping out of here in 15min.

But: I’ve joined a gym. A pretty cool seeming one too. They even have 2 of their studios in Paris. Which really was what got me to join since I’m in Paris, like, all the time. Just kidding, in case you didn’t get that (sorry, but some people are slow to pick up on irony, like that guy yesterday who was being obnoxious to me and whom I told to piss off, to which he said “Are you scared of me?” and I answered, in the snarkiest tone possible, “Oh yes, of course I’m scared of you“, which he so didn’t get).

Anyhoo, I joined a gym. I did my introductory training yesterday and it was great. I don’t know if I’m imagining it or not, but my limbs and muscles all felt… smooth, elongated. I felt like a panther coming out of there. Not in there, mind you, with all the toned people staring at the new fat girl. At least, to make up for the shame, I got flirted with by a cute brunette lesbian chick in, wait for it… a loose, white wifebeater. Yumm!

Today, I have my first yoga class at the gym and I’m totally psyched about it. I’ll try to block the stares out as best as I can. However, for a yoga class (and any other kind of activity at the gym, really) one needs a sports bra. So out I went today and tried to get two sports bras. Surely I must not be the first one to say this, but: sports bras are FUGLY. I mean, seriously, friggin’, fraggin’ FUGLY. I know one isn’t supposed (or able) to look good doing sports, but still. I finally got two white ones that at least felt well on me. My breasts? They have never looked uglier. And seriously, I don’t have such a perfect pair anyway. I was looking at myself in the mirror and could hear them crying and screaming and stamping their feet saying “Put us back in pretty lingerie, what THE HELL are you doing??!!”

Poor tatas. But at least, I’ll be comfortable while I’m working out.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

ps: Whopper of the day: I just got an email from my first boyfriend (whom I haven’t been in contact with for two years at least) telling me he was getting married. That took the wind out of me, it was so unexpected. Will do a separate post on that. Must process first. Must put on sports bra. Must go gym. No time full sentences.

Pink champagne… yeah, uh, that’s too nelly, even for me.

Have you ever wondered which movie stars you’d bed and which you wouldn’t? I recently had a conversation about this with a friend and was surprised to find out there aren’t actually that many I would really sleep with.  But there are some. Oh boy are there some.

Angelina Jolie: I used to be madly in love with her. I still find her an attractive woman. But I wouldn’t want to sleep with her. She’s just way too bony and there’s been a cold front between me and her for a few months, since she started all this pre-Oscar campaigning. She seems like a sweet person and a good mother, but man, those dagger-stares she kept giving all the other actresses at all the award shows she had to go to? Sure it sucks to lose time after time after time, but her eyes were like the cold, dead eyes of a killer. That was a total turn-off. I think I’d be more scared of her than turned on by her in the sack. Next!

Milla Jovovich: yes, argueably, she is bony too. But not in the Angelina way (who has those veins popping out on her arms, which can be attractive on a man but never a woman). Milla has an otherworldly beauty. She is so surreally stunning. I have loved her for years. Her incredible eyes, her cute lips, her intensity and her slenderness… yummy! I would love to spend a night with her.

Carrie-Anne Moss: if she dressed up as Trinity, I would love to do her. In any other get-up but her Matrix persona, she is just weird to me. I’m not saying she’s a bad actress, far from it, but I just think she looks best in black leather and PVC, with really short hair. She tends to look a bit too common, too dime-a-dozen, as soon as she sports longer hair. My verdict: she’d be a great role-playing partner. I’ll try to be Monica Bellucci. *chortle*

Kim Novak: the best Hitchcock blonde ever, in my opinion. I have loved her ever since I first saw Vertigo as a kid. Kim Novak is great but I don’t think she’s one-night-stand material. Kim Novak I’d have to marry.

Natasha McElhone: a superb actress and one of the most beautiful women on the planet, if you ask me. I think I’ll have to go poly just so I can marry both her and Kim Novak. Her eyes, lips and cheekbones alone are worth marrying.

Tilda Swinton: though she’s amazing in every role she takes on, she will always be Orlando to me. What a performance! With her, I could imagine having a torrid affair. A friend of mine once saw her in Cannes, at the film festival. She was late for wherever she had to be and her limo got stuck in traffic. She got out of the car in an ethereal white gown, took off her high heels and ran toward the Palais des Festivals. He says she was a vision and I believe him. Besides, I like tall, slender women a lot.

Kate Winslet: she’s a true English rose. I think she’s beautiful and I love her attitude but I think I’d rather be friends with her than sleep with her. I’m sure she won’t mind that.

Sigourney Weaver: actually, I think I have to be more specific and say Ellen Ripley. I’d voluntarily go aboard an alien infested spaceship just to be with her. Seriously, almost nothing rivals the sexiness of Weaver in her white panties and wifebeater. That’s perfection right there. By the way, am I the only one who thinks the simplicity of an outfit like that can be the most sexy thing in the world?

Keira Knightley: I’d really like to know what she’s like in bed. Again, I love her slender, boyish body. But she’s also got a gorgeous, gorgeous face. On the other hand, she seems so fiercely straight, it’s hard to imagine her having sex with a woman.

Ok, I’m making myself dizzy now. It’s weird that I like boyish bods because in women, I look for femininity. Although one has to say that the women I listed all have very pretty, soft, feminine faces. I’m not into butch females at all (at least not so far, never say never). But there’s something I find fascinating about slightly androgynous looks (in women, not men).

What kind of women do you like best?

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

What do you call the mouse shadow on the second moon?

Hey folks!

To counterbalance all the negativity that I have been spewing into the blogosphere lately, I thought I’d write a new post about a topic I already visited once: the funny, odd, quirky, disturbing, mind-boggling Google searches that lead people to this blog. I am continuously amazed, bewildered and highly amused at what people come up with. So I thought you’d enjoy being that too. Hilarity should be shared, don’t you think?

Alrighty then, here we go.

mak’tar stealth haze

For the past months I have seen this search phrase every day. Every day! I have a post with this in the title but that’s not the weird part. The weird part is that this is part of a quote from the movie Galaxy Quest, which is a sci-fi spoof. The best one ever made, sure, but it’s a spoof. Which is to say: they made this up to spoof the Vulcans and the Klingons, this isn’t even official Star Trek vernacular (as far as I know, if it is, please leave a comment and enlighten me!). So it’s funny to me that Galaxy Quest has apparently garnered a kind of Star Trek similar fanbase who do searches for things mentioned in the film. The other option, of course, would be that a mak’tar stealth haze is a completely real thing that one can learn to master and people are using the internet to find information about how to do it. In both cases, I can say that I’m sorry, but my blog won’t be of much assistance to you. But I’m happy you dropped by anyway!

say it out… loud twilight

Sure, we all know what was being searched for here. Still, loud twilight? I didn’t even know any kind of light could be loud. Or silent. Or anything else accoustic. But I’ll comply: LOUD TWILIGHT! There, I said it out. Your wishes are my command.

you want me like acid in your mouth

Ouch. Actually, no I don’t. Neither you, nor the acid. But I’ve been getting hit by this search (and countless variations of it) for a really long time now. Sorry, this isn’t a Point Break fansite. I love the movie but not enough to dedicate a site to it. And seriously, aren’t we living a bit in the past if in 2009, we google a 1991 movie? No? Ok, that’s just me then.

little latin boy in drag

This search was already being done a lot the first time I did a post like this. And instead of waning, it’s become much, much more frequent. Again, I apologize to all who came here looking for cute latino butts in frilly pink Daisy Dukes. Not that I mind those, I just don’t have any material on that.

Next, we have more in the acid category. I give you

why is acid so bad

don’t watch Clockwork Orange on acid

First of all: ’cause it can kill you. You might have missed that in science class and on the Discovery Channel. Acid = Bad. Any kind of it too. Now nobody can say I don’t care about my readers. Even the clueless ones. Second: that’s right, don’t. I don’t have first hand experience with this but watching it sober in the afternoon was trippy and nauseating enough. This is just a theory but I doubt that acid will make that better. If you must combine drugs and film (which I don’t condone), I suggest a joint and 2001: A Space Odyssee. It’s also a Kubrick and you’re far less likely to go on a frenzied killing spree afterwards. I think I can rather safely recommend this. I know people who did that back in the sixties and they are still psyched about that experience. Tell me how it was, please, ’cause weed doesn’t have any effect on me.

The acid category is followed closely by the Dune category. There seems to be tons of Dune fans out there who end up here. Which is unsurprising, since I absolutely LOVE Dune (books and film) and quote it all the time, both in my titles and in my posts. Here are the funniest Dune related searches.

we fremen have long

I’m sorry, did everybody else also finish that phrase with “Johnsons”? Well I sure did. I’m not 100% sure Fremen would refer to their penises as Johnsons, but you get what I mean. However, this search clearly proves there are others out there who feel a certain kinship with the Fremen. I’m so glad I’m not the only one. And I’m glad that modern Fremen men apparently have long… you know what. That’s always good to know.

arrakis tests faith

We’ve got a busy Fremen here. Usually, people take the time to search for “We Fremen have a saying: God created Arrakis to train the Faithful”. But not this guy, no sirree. He’s got a worm to catch, a sietch to go to and some spice to harvest! To make a long answer short, my busy friend, yes, Arrakis tests your faith. *WOOSH* And he’s out the door.

Arrakis trains the faithfu

I know this one has it almost right, but it still cracks me up. The faithfu? That’s the funniest word. Seriously, just say it. Faithfu. Maybe it’s like religious Kung Fu.

to train the faithful. one cannot go aga

Let’s blend out the lack of correct capitalization and punctuation here. I actually agree with this: one can probably not go aga. At least, all I know is gaga. That one can definitely go. Maybe aga is just Galach for gaga. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?

god created arrakis to train

I’m sure he did, sweetheart, I’m sure he did. He woke up one day and thought: “Hmm, I think I’ll make myself a huge, sandy, orange exercise ball. And just for kicks, I’ll make it smell like cinnamon. Yeah, that’s how I like to work out.”

Finally, I’ll leave you with this one:

buckle your seatbelts Dorothy

This is a prepared Dorothy. She knows the twister’s a’coming and she ain’t taking no chances this time, nuh-uh. Actually, there’s something quite sexy about that image… just imagine it: Dorothy, in her cute gingham dress and sparkly ruby slippers, strapped into a seat with those seatbeltS, the locking mechanism right between her creamy white thighs… yummy… drool… Ahem. Yes, I’m disturbed and I need help. Or let’s just say I’m saving all this for a future posts, when I’ll talk about all the female stars I’d, like, totally do.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

ps: all you mak’tar searchers and all you Dune fans, make a peep when you come by, okay? I love you loads!

The only person with whom I felt any kinship with died three hundred years before the birth of Christ.

I wonder, sometimes, how it can be that life’s bitterness and life’s sweetness always lie so close together. And frankly, I’m tired of it. I wish that at 23, I wouldn’t have to walk to the bus-stop thinking: “Man, I wish there were days were there wasn’t some part of my body hurting.” I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, is it? This week was good, in a lot of ways, and completely crap and humiliating in others. Medically speaking. Sure, sure, a lot of what needs to happen in order for me to get healthy lies in my hands alone. I know that, I acknowledge, I’m working on it, for fuck’s sake. But it still feels like there is too much eluding me, too much slipping right through my fingers. I have such a hard friggin’ time just bringing it all together and then keeping it together.

There are so many things I want to do in life and I’ll admit, some of these things I think I should be doing right about now. And even though I’m happy to have a tidy flat, things to cook in my fridge, friends, a good time at university and an okay job (with a new job opportunity that has just come up), it’s not enough. Enough to survive on, but not enough to make me truly happy. There’s a big void and it just keeps getting bigger. And my biggest fear is that the larger the void gets, the more I’ll be struggling to find and achieve the things that would fill it. I’m afraid that there will come a point of no return. And I’m even more afraid that this point of no return may be right around the corner, or even worse, that I’ve already passed it long ago.

I’m sitting in this big, beautiful, empty bed, typing away. Do you know what I’m feeling? I’m thinking that I want to make love to the most perfect being on the planet, in this bed, with Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” in the background, at full volume.

I’m also thinking that if it were up to me, I’d wear a gladiatrix outfit at least once a week. There’s lots of silly stuff like this that I would love to do, that I, somehow, plan to do one day. But the bleak truth is that it’s not happening. I’m as alone in all this as we all are but the difference is, it’s breaking me down. People who aren’t alone are rare and they should treasure what they have because I’m telling you, it’s the most precious thing in the world.

About 4 years ago, I thought I had learnt a lesson. I often told the story of what I had learned and I told it with a certain contempt for the girl I was before I had learnt. The lesson went like this: “Before now I had convinced myself that I was not loveable, not worthy of love and that maybe, I should just accept the fact that love was obviously not going to be crossing my path, ever. Then I got together with my first boyfriend in more than unusual circumstances and I realised I was wrong. I realised that what I’d been telling myself was bullshit. My second relationship, with Steve, proved that to me even more. I was so wrong and I’m happy I was wrong.”

That was the lesson. But times sure have been a-changing since then and I’m starting to think that maybe my initial instinct was right. It’s not a pleasant thought but I can’t push away the facts and they all point towards me being right. I don’t think I’m incapable of loving someone, if anything, I’m probably more capable than many people (at least that I know). But I do think there’s something in me and about me that makes me completely unloveable. Sure, it took me over a year to get over Steve. But even the point at which I got over him is about a year and a half away. Since then I’ve been on several dates, one crazier than the other. I’m back to attracting only crazy, broken people and the best proof of that is that the only one of those dates that I was really, badly attracted to (because he is a sane, handsome, intelligent and funny guy) vanished into thin air and was never seen or heard of again. And frankly, good ol’ sane, handsome, intelligent and funny Roland may have had a point there, even if I don’t like it or fully grasp the how’s and why’s of it.

Different people keep telling me different things. Some say it has nothing to do with my being overweight and others say it has absolutely everything to do with it. Me personally? It’s damn stupid but I have a much easier time feeling good in my current body (though it SURE AS HELL will not stay like that because I can’t stand it) when somebody else doesn’t have a problem with it. And then, magically, I actually lose weight. It’s like that every time I’m in love. I know full well that I can’t wait for someone else to rescue me like that. I don’t expect anyone to either. So that’s not what I’m saying, that I’m waiting around for someone to save me from myself. But yeah, I’m not as hard on myself when I’m with someone. And I truly, truly wish that I would finally be able to move from the unhealthy, stressing, angst-triggering being hard on myself to the healthy, matter-of-fact, I-know-I’m-doing-the-right-thing being hard on myself. I’m trying every day to get there and I fail miserably every day. I used to think it was a good sign if I managed to keep my flat nice and tidy and now I just think: “that doesn’t mean shit.” I’m in way deeper than that and I’m fucking hating it. Most of all, I’m hating myself for not being able to just let go and start breathing and then start swimming in the right direction. So many people say “it’s easy, just let go” but the truth is, I don’t think I know how to. I desperately, desperately want to, but it’s a lot harder than it looks and I just don’t know how to anymore. I think all my energy for this kind of stuff was spent in 2005 and I just don’t have it in me anymore to do it again. Does that mean I’ve effectively signed my death certificate? My parents would sure say so (they have, in fact, said so). They’re right even though I don’t want them to be and even though I want to prove them wrong.

I want to prove them wrong. I want to change and I want to do it all so much better. The only question is: how do I summon that kind of strength when inside, I feel like a sickly little cockroach?

Anyway, enough with the self-pity fiesta for tonight, I suppose.

Live long and prosper, all ye love-endowed, peace,

Anna

Say it. Out loud. Vampire.

So, it’s not a secret anymore. I love Twilight (the movie, no interest in the books to be honest). But it did come as a surprise when the other day, I realised I was part of the Cullen family. I styled and blow-dried my hair in a tousled style and when I was done, I saw a Cullen looking back at me in the mirror. Very pale skin, undefined eye colour, reddened lips, brown, tousled, slightly devilish looking hair. In essence, I’m the fatty, ugly Cullen that no one ever talks about and that isn’t in the movie for aesthetic reasons. But I do look like a Cullen.

In other, less fantastical news, I’m going back to Zurich today, as my semester starts on Monday. The next 4 days are already overflowing with appointments, deadlines and chores. And yet, in a weird way, I’m also looking forward to it. Not the unpleasant things in particular but more generally, I like the beginnings of terms. All the new classes are exciting and challenging and you get to meet new people as well as see old friends again.

Haven’t got much more I can currently write about (some things need to stay locked in one’s heart) but I hope you are all doing fine. I’m off to pack my bags for Zurich (they’re full of new books bought at the Munich Readery and DVDs, so I’m a happy gal). Toodles!

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna