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| The Notebook |
| 09.28.05 (11:16 am) [edit] |
~~My Dearest Allie.
I couldn't sleep last night because I know that it's over between us. I'm not bitter any more, because I know that what we had was real. And if in some distant place in the future we see each other in our new lives, I'll smile at you with joy and remember how we spent the summer beneath the trees, learning from each other and growing in love. The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds, and that's what you've given me. That's what I hope to give to you forever. I love you. I'll be seeing you. Noah~~
Last night I finally sat down and watched the movie “The Notebook” based on a book by Nicholas Sparks. I should have probably read the book first but I am not one for romance movies let alone books. I cried like a baby at the end (without spoiling the movie for anyone else) it was one of the greatest love stories I think I’ve ever seen. I want the book now. I will be making that purchase this weekend I am sure.
I dreamt of riding in the back of a truck. The truck was a tan 87 Ford. I know this because it was the first car I ever drove. In the dream it even had the same dent on the drivers side as mine did when I was 17. We were laying on our backs this girl and I (for some reason it was the dancer). The driver was a young Mexican man who had asked us where we wanted to go. I wanted to drive the dirt roads along the tree lines. She didn’t care as long as we could ride together.
“You should lie down,” she said to me.
“I don’t think so,” I answered as the pickup began its journey.
“Stop being so afraid of things,” she said smiling and she lay back. She intertwined her hands and placed them on her stomach. “You never know what you are going to miss out on.”
I remember watching the road in silence before looking at her again. Her eyes just stared up into the sky. She seemed content just laying there. I finally lay down as the truck started into the tree lines. We lay there watching the sun stream through the branches. I wish I knew how to describe the colors as we drove. We started in spring and ended in the fall. I wish there was a way to describe the stillness that I found in the dream. The driver asked us where we wanted to go from there.
She turned to me and smiled, “What do you think?”
“What ever way it takes the longest to get back,” I answered.
Then my dream changes and I am standing in front of an apartment building. I am on the phone talking to T when Jess walks by. Our eyes meet.
“Hey,” I say still on the line. “Come here.”
She turns to me from the second step and smiles.
“You gonna walk by and just not say hello?” I ask.
She blows me a kiss and walks up the stairs. I hang up the phone and shake my head following her up and into the building. There is a door at the end of the hall that is open and I walk toward. I stand at the doorway looking in. She is standing in her room, arms crossed and smiling.
“Hello,” she says.
I am awake again. It’s 7:30am. It’s Wednesday and I get butterflies in my stomach every time I think about the dream.
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| I dream of |
| 09.26.05 (10:37 am) [edit] |
I dreamt of burning churches Saturday night. I was across the street when I noticed the smoke from the top window but no one stopped.
“My God that church is on fire!” I yelled as I ran across the street. No one seemed to notice. There was a couple with a stroller that just kept on walking.
Outside of the church were a mother and daughter yelling at each other about something that I could not make out.
“You have to get away from here the church is on fire,” I yelled at them.
The older woman turned to me and yelled back, “I can see the fucking church is on fire but I have more important things to do than to worry about the people inside the fucking church right now.”
To which I yelled back, “Well I hope your fucking day gets better than the people that are trapped inside the BURNING church!”
She drops to her knees and starts to cry. The daughter is crying but no one moves. I run to the entrance where there is a hose is too short. I turn it on anyway and somehow I am inside. I stop halfway down the walk way.
“Excuse me father but you have to get these people out because the church is on fire,” I said.
He won’t look up from his bible and the people are looking at me because I am standing there with a hose in my hand and then I look up but I am outside now. The flames are coming from the top windows and then there is nothing but ashes. In my dream I am floating and there is a voice telling me that I will never be able to get the people out of the burning churches.
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| My Dearest Love |
| 09.22.05 (10:56 am) [edit] |
It was with you that I breathed. It was with you that every moment was made beautiful. It was with you that I felt right. It was with you that I dreamed for a future. It was with you that I traveled into myself. It was with you that I was unafraid. It was with you that I was vulnerable. It was with you that I learned what life meant. In those moments when we’d stare at each other from across the room and I got lost in your eyes, I felt that I could not live without you. If you were not by my side I felt alone. There was an emptiness that I could not shake. I needed to see you, feel you next to me. Wrapped in your arms. Drowning in your kisses. Your kisses made of honey. Your kisses that left me wanting more. Your kisses.
I wish I knew how to tell you how much I’ve missed you. I wish I knew how to make you see that I still think of you. I wish every moment that you crawled into my memory I could find a way to send it to you. I wish I knew how to make you hurt less. I wish I knew how to forget those eyes. I wish I knew how to make you remember, just for a second remember.
What is left of the passion I buried in the garden of broken dreams. What is left of the love I threw into the ocean of forgotten hope. What is left of our memories …what is left of our memories?
I wanted to believe that our love was bigger than the pain. I wanted to believe that I would remain something beautiful and untainted by the hands of time but time is a funny thing.
I fell in love with you in 1998. It is 2005. Six years of memories trickling away from me. Six years of tears. Six years of wondering where you are. Six years of imaging someone else holding you. Six years of fearing that day when you’ll call me to tell me that you are getting married. Six years of feeling alone and deserted. Six years of feeling used. Six years is a long time for time to not have his way with a broken heart. Six years is a long time for me continue believe in what we had. Too long.
You were my drug of choice. You were my poison. You are in my blood. You are in my veins.
I wish you wouldn’t call me everything six months. It will always be new. It will be there. I will always break. I’ve been thinking about you less and less. When I have those thoughts it’s not longer you that I kiss, feel, touch. It’s no longer you that I crave and I feel strange not really remembering any of that anymore. It’s not longer you my love. It’s no longer anything.
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| Bazooka Joe |
| 09.20.05 (9:32 am) [edit] |
Someone left a pack of Bazooka Joe bubble gum on my desk this morning. I am now chewing my first piece if Bazooka in years. When I was younger they cost a nickel a piece and I would chase the ice cream truck down (sometimes on my bike, sometimes on foot) when I’d hear that little jingle that most kids can hear from blocks away. I loved the smell of the wrapper and the way the sugar melted in my mouth as I sat on my porch during the summer. I used to collect the little comic book wrapper’s that they came in. I used to believe in the fortune’s at the bottom of the page. I would chew the little piece of gum until my jaw hurt or my mom MADE me spit it out.
Bazooka Joe reminds me of:
-Birthday parties
-Attaching playing cards to the rear wheel of your bike with clothes pin so it would sound
like a motorcycle
-Learning to jump off ramps
-Eating ice cream on the corner
-Water fights
-Playing Guns (our version of violent hide and seek)
-Playing school in the back yard
-Playing “Rock stars” with brooms for guitars and buckets for drums
-Playing with GI Joe’s (not Barbie’s cause I was the only girl and I couldn’t play if I
didn’t have a GI Joe)
-Having to take my sister everywhere I went as soon as she was four
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| CARE |
| 09.19.05 (2:11 pm) [edit] |
I’m really tired today. It’s 3pm and I feel like I have been on the go since Friday. It wasn’t much of a weekend for me til last night. I really wanted to get out of the house after working my ass off on Saturday. I put together a carwash to raise some money to send to the Red Cross for Katrina Relief. It was something I wanted to do because I wanted to help. The reality that not many people were on the same page stung a little. I cannot complain (it was MY idea after all) I said come hell or high water with or without help I was going to wash cars. I found it odd that not many cars stopped. No one had time. There was somewhere else to be. It was heartbreaking. Is it because it’s not happening here it doesn’t matter? Is it that there are those out there that really don’t care? Is it cause “they were dumb for not leaving”? Is it because “they’re all ready getting a lot of help”? Maybe just maybe there is no compassion here. I don’t know how political groups do it. How they deal with people who don’t care enough to stop to listen or to give a hand. On the flip side of that last night I sat in on a spoken word event simply called CARE. In that room there was a genuine feel of what it was all about. We donated at the door. We sat and clapped and listened. I teared up twice. Maybe it was PMS. Maybe it was the disappointment from the day before but in there I found what I was hoping for with my event. Lots of people who cared.
**getting off my soap box now**
Yesterday was a blast. Alone in the restless city. I went to a housewarming party in the mission district. I did a lot of walking and forgot that on top of pinching my fingers in a garage door I had pulled my back at work the night before. I had to take it slow this morning. I had to make sure not to catch my hand on anything. I had to walk a little slower than usual. I thought a little about getting old. There were girls in heels and make up. There were girls with piercing’s. Someone’s mom was dancing in the middle of the room while the rest of us cheered her on. There were puppies everywhere. Most of the girls were couples but very sweet. We made mamosa’s (champagne with orange juice). They tried to play ping-pong but the wind wouldn’t let up. I tried not to stare at anyone for too long but they were all hot. I felt awkward because I really only knew ONE person there. I handled my own . I left a little early people were coming and going and I was having an anxiety thing going on cause I didn’t want to stand around by myself. I realized that I don’t have a “crew” like I used too. I am taking applications. More and more I’m wishing that I lived in the city.
The rest of the night was spent at the CARE fundraiser. I let some random people sit at my table making small talk but mostly listening. I didn’t stay for the after party because I didn’t want to be there alone. Though I was tempted because that wicked girl with the beautiful smile and incredible legs was dancing. I knew I had to go home if I was going to get up today. I feel tired. I’m looking forward to going home and taking a hot shower and laying in my bed to watch football.
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| It doesn't mean anything |
| 09.15.05 (12:05 pm) [edit] |
If it doesn’t mean anything at all. I can’t lay next to someone if I don’t want to be held by them. I can’t let someone sleep next to me unless I need something from them. I’ve had experiences where I kicked them out of my bed. Thanks. See ya around. No I don’t want to be your girl. No you can’t come back. No it will never happen again. Unless of course it meant something at all.
I’ve had my heart shattered once into the tinniest little pieces that no amount of superglue will ever be able to piece it together. I know that now it was not a waste of time it was a waste of experience. I spent a lot of time trying to make it right. Trying to make that moment come back. Trying to piece it back together. You can’t hold on to forever because forever just doesn’t happen.
I’ve left a trail of “what-if’s”. Distant regrets. Misplaced feelings. Unknown answers.
I am not as lonely as I used to be because I’ve let a lot of things go. I will not look back. Love is a very solid distant memory. Etched deeply into my soul. I’ve drowned it. Wrestled with it. Cried with it. Buried it. We pick our battles. Sometimes we have to learn when to walk away. In learning that I don’t have many battles anymore. I no longer step into the ring. I’m no longer the fighter I used to be.
In so many aspects of my life I am defeated. Choosing each battle wisely making sure I’ll survive it in the end.
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| Go Head Girl Go Head Get Down |
| 09.14.05 (3:14 pm) [edit] |
I danced last night. I lost my voice singing every song with J by my side. We drank ourselves drunk and laughed and ran into old faces. “Brownies for My Bitches” is the newest hang out for me. Give me a dance floor full of hot girls and I am there. I had to show J whom my new infatuation is and his mouth dropped as did mine when she started to wiggle her perfect round toosh on the stage.
I really wish we lived in the city. Where we live now is too rural. I want to drown in the noisy drunk city lights. I want live in its messy world so that I can be messy too. Not that I don’t know how to be messy but you see it makes me feel less messy when there are those that are messier than me.
We started off light with conversation and a Kettle One on the rocks. We were craving Hypnotic but no one had any. We started off enjoying the chilly night air as we walked back and forth between bars buying some time before the dancing began. My allergies kicked in as soon as we got off the train but it did not hinder me from the task at hand. I think I was allergic to Jose’s cologne (one he will not be wearing around me anymore). Jose was told that he reminded someone of Italians because of the fuzz on his face. This same woman took a sip of my Kettle One as I gave it to Jose and said that she wanted to kiss him because she missed home (I am assuming she meant Italy).
“There are so many women in here,” he said.
“Yes there are,” I say with a grin.
My, my, my. What do we have hear? It’s the way she throws back her head when she laughs I have decided that has got me goo-goo but having the body that she does helps too. I was trying not to stare at her so I made Jose get up and dance with me. Oh the company I keep because Jose decides to maneuver us to where she is dancing on the stage. Then he reaches out and literally makes me turn around to look at her. To which I automatically spin right back around and push him back the other way. He thinks this is funny. So does she cause she was watching us and laughing. It’s in her eyes whatever it is and I want it.
If I am attracted to you however, then there is always something that is going to stop me. Usually you’re either straight or taken. In this case very much taken by a girl much taller than me with short hair and a dazzling smile.
“She’s so not your usual type,” Jose tells me this morning. “But there is something about her that I like too. She seems really sweet.”
“Yeah I’ll probably never know,” I say winking.
We had pizza at the end of the night with the other dancer. We were drunk and accosted her when we saw her come into the pizza place. We bought her something to eat then asked her the same three questions over and over. We exchanged numbers and invited her to hang out sometime.
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| Damage Control |
| 09.07.05 (7:33 am) [edit] |
I’ve been spending more and more time alone. I prefer alone right now. I don’t want to listen to the giggles of love or mindless conversation. I don’t want to watch cartoons because I don’t find them amusing. I don’t want to talk about anything to anyone I know but I do. I’m used to my roommates they aren’t going to give me anything I need right now. Our home has become a place to just lay our heads. We don’t hang out. We don’t talk. We don’t do anything except exist in the same space. We watch TV and we eat. I know what you are thinking the excitement is just too much to take.
I feel trapped. I feel alone. I feel hopeless. While I’m off trying to save the world I can’t even get my own shit straight. The ones that I want to talk too never answer their phones. I hate when I get needy like this because then it feels like the whole world is turning their back. When deep down I know that they aren’t. So this is it. Here is where I let it all out and then it’s out but it doesn’t ever feel like its fixing what’s on the inside. I expose myself to a bunch of strangers because the ones that are close to me I can’t talk too.
My mom has been in bed for three days. My mom who never sits down. My mom who is more of a busy body than most busy bodies. She has been in her bed crying and sleeping because all she feels is sadness. She doesn’t want to do anything. She doesn’t want to know anything. She calls me in the morning and I can’t find the comforting words because all I want to say is it’s your fault that things are this way. Then I feel guilty because I can’t fix it. Things are catching up with her. Everything is sneaking in and she talks to me about it and all I think about is how lonely she is. I am only her daughter I don’t know how to be her friend.
Aug 26th marked a year since Aida had passed. I thought about how time has just sped on by I wondered how many had bothered to stop and remember her on that day. I was going to take flowers but I didn’t, I was going to visit her family but I didn’t. It’s done. She’s gone and there is nothing more to it than that. I want to know what her daughter looks like. I wonder if she has Aida’s face. I’m sure she has her curly hair but considering I haven’t spoken to her family since the funeral I don’t feel I can just show up and ask to see her. What would I say?
Finally. After 18 months of bullshit classes and bullshit fines and bullshit three hour commute on public trans (except for when Jose asks me if I need a ride). I find out that the bullshit DUI establishment may not process my record through because of a misunderstanding with a check-in process. She says she sent letters (to the wrong fucking address) but she never called, not ONCE to tell me that my record was going to sent back to the courthouse. I went this fucking long without messing up. I went, I paid ALL my fees, I participated and THEN to tell me this??? She is going to talk to another supervisor and I have to go back Friday. I am not holding my breath on this one. If I have to do it over I will blow a casket and then I’ll get over it and have to do it ALL over again. Another 18 months of bullshit. I want to leave the country. I wouldn’t need a fucking license then.
I have called three times in the last two weeks to ask for my CD’s and books back. Three brief, “Hope you are well” “Call me back please” calls. You’d think she’d fucking call me back and say, “Hey asshole no you cant have them back because I lost them and I don’t have time to talk to you because I am MUCH to busy thinking that the world hates me because I’m beautiful.”
I’m just done. I need change. I need to find something to help me feel like I’m doing something right. No one is going to give me a fucking gold star for not having a drink in ten days. That’s right I am counting why? Because I can. I think it’s a big deal especially for me. I’m scared of the first hang over I know I am going to have when I finally decide that I want a beer or whatever else I may fancy at the time. Yes I said fancy. I like the word.
2 am and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
Anna Nalick (Breathe) 2am
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| Katrina |
| 09.06.05 (12:09 pm) [edit] |
I am supposed to have an opinion but it makes my heart hurt when I think of what is happening to the people that were in Katina’s way when it hit. You can’t stop nature from running its course, that is not the issue. Speaking to a friend on Saturday while watching the news from my mom’s living room I felt my stomach turn.
“Thinking of Bush makes me sick,” I said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Cause he’s an idiot,” I answer.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because things aren’t being handled the way they should have been. There are people dying because we don’t have the resources to help them there because most of our military is off fighting someone else’s fucking war,” I said.
“Those people knew they needed to get out. It’s not the government’s fault they decided to stay,” she answered.
“I’m gonna go,” I said.
I was pissed. I still am. I was in the Marines. I served four years proudly. I was scared when the towers went down. I was behind the war until innocent people started dying. I am not political so what ever thoughts you may have on it keep them I don’t stand by anything that Bush has done since he’s been in office. Fuck I voted when the election came around.
Listening to the Mayor of New Orleans on Thursday (four days after) as he explained what life was like in the underwater city made me cry. I listened as his voice cracked when he described the bodies floating by. There was nothing he could do. They were still waiting for help.
“People are dying. We are waiting on 40,000 troops. There is nobody here……. It feels like the end, “ he said.
Then the silence took over and you could here the reporters in the background trying to get the right words out but they couldn’t. They were over come with emotion and the reality of it all. Today I read an article about some of the troops in Iraq. How they don’t know if their families are alive. How if they make it back alive they don’t have a home to come home too. That in it self says so much more than any words that I can come up with.
It’s a sad time but there is hope. While the government sits on their ass pointing fingers, taking vacations and shopping for shoes. The rest of America are opening their homes, giving their money, and offering support to each other.
THAT is the only thing that the people suffering have left.
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