anna bee's blog

to build a house, you start with the walls. then you add the door so you can let people in. but then you install a lock so they can't come in right away. then you make the inside nice with fluffy couches and chairs for your future guests and pets to sit on. then you make your bed because that's what you're supposed to do most times. then you go out into the backyard and make sure your dog knows that this is where you do your business, ok? then you unlock the doors and let people in. they'll try to open windows but you'll assure them temperature is just fine. paint those windows shut. you only see out of them, not the other way around. the people looking in on the other side shouldn't be able to see into you. you might want to look into some kind of reflectly kind of window or something. it is better this way, trust me. then you make sure your guests are seated and all get along with each other. once this is done you can put the roof on. not a flat top roof like my current house, but a very slopey slanty one that will always the maximum drainage. this is important. once the roof is ok its time to build a garage where you can add a basketball hoop or a fooseball table or other garage accoutrements. although i've never had a fooseball table or utilized a basketball hoop, i want to.
so now that you have been told how to build a house, its time to tell you what to do when you're on the inside. games like wii and boom blox are ok if you're ok with the grab tool. it is very important that you hold the grab tool much longer than your opponent thinks you will hold it. no one in their right might would hold the grab tool for that long and bring in back into frame to taunt the other player. no one that is except me. i will do that. i will do that to you. if you have complaints about that, sorry youre in my house. if you have further complaints about that, sorry, get out of my house. so wii is ok, making wonton chips is ok. watching tv with your dog is ok. but falling asleep on the ground is not ok. although the carpet is plush, its still nothing compared to a bed. a comfortable bed that i make only when i know someone is coming over, but i still change the sheets at least once a week. why? because i have too many sheets to not change to sheets. get a me sheet set for christmas, i dare you. which is not the same as jinxing you, so do it.

new blog theme.

how conceited is it for me to think that people really read this?

fairly conceited, i'd say

everyone is in everyone

The following was originally written in ink in a real life journal [with paper pages and everything] after I ran into a fella I used to date named Boring McOrdinary.

do you know that feeling deep inside your body that feels like your heart or pancreas or liver, or some other vital organ drops way down to your feet? it's the same feeling you get when you think you see a child dart in front of your car when you're driving, or when you accidently hit "send" on a message you had no intention of sending. it's the feeling of seeing someone that one of your best friends said you'd never see again. it's the feeling of coming face to face with the first person you thought you loved, who turned out to be the only person you ever hated. 

i always thought it would have happened differently, as i've been rehearsing what i want to say to you for the past four years. "fuck you," was the only thing i remembered. fuck you for making my immature mind think you were worth a minute of my time, let alone a year and a half of my life, and doing severe damage to my heart during my formative years. this encounter left me literally dumbfounded and unable to focus (sorry, nick), and driving home i tried to conjure any kind of memory or emotion i had previously had for this person. first of all, i BARELY recognized the fool underneath the 30+ lbs. of weight he'd acquired, his cheeks all swollen with fatness. i of course burned every picture, letter, and any other articles he had given me in a kind of fiery inferno of spite and bitterness, then extinguished the blaze by dropping it all into the toilet. so there was no way i could go home later to contrast and compare.

i didn't say anything to the blimp. i realize now that i only feel shocked to have seen him in his unfortunate state. i obviously didn't love him. and years ago i realized that if i continued to hate him, that is closer to loving him. begone old, chubby exboyfriend. your hopes of getting a rise out of me are no good here.

and so what if every word i just typed is wrapped up in thick snuggie of disdain. it's real, it's how it is.
i might have regret for letting him hurt me, but i suppose it's made me the way i am today. everyone's in everyone. so if he's in one sentence of one chapter in one book of one volume that makes up the story of my life, so be it. the story of my life will most likely be skimmed and summarized anyway. 
"...in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." so i have greater opportunities to be affected.

My hope is that one day when he googles my name he will find this blog and spend 10+ days glued to his dell computer screen. He won't leave his tiny home office crammed with his collection of weird Star Wars collectibles and crooked framed pictures on the wall of him with C and D list celebrities like Tom Skerritt. He will live on a diet of candy necklaces, Ritz crackers and Pedialyte while he feverishly reads every word of every post and eventually reads this entry, then cries! I know, I'm pretty conceited. So anyway, this prepares me for another chance encounter with an ex-love of 4.5 years. His name was legally changed to X. Liar McDeadbeat. The very moment I feel like I true grown-up, I realized that calling myself a grown-up completely negates it altogether. Real grown-ups would never use the word "grown-up" to describe themselves. They use the term adult and pronounce it "ad-ult." Anyway, I was feeling pretty mature thinking I couldn't drag his proverbial heart through the dirt as he dragged mine. High road, here I come!

yung ana

 i'm perpetually trying to cheer myself up. in the rare occurrence that i'm in a good mood, i spend so much time concerned about why and how i'm in a good mood that it eventually dissipates. 20-something years of feelings and memories. i can't even fathom 8.7 weeks of music on my itunes.

what happens in life is that things are awesome. the world is amazing. it's so convenient and unimaginable that it can't be real. the image of the world is just that, an image. what's below, or inside, or above, or sprinkled invisibly all around as atmosphere is what really makes it. intangible and fleeting and only existing even though people don't acknowledge it exists. if that stuff is all real, that means the image and everything it consists of is fake. the world is amazing and people still complain. i guess it's their right.

i don't think people realize or give much thought to how lonely it is to just be a person. you're in your own head all day. there are an infinite amount of distractions available to you that you will engage in every day. music, job, project, something pretty, art, cinematic features, and cartoons. we pretend it all matters. a job for example is pointless. it means nothing. a job will distract you, make you money and waste a lot of time. time means nothing. its just going to pass. there, its gone. as much as i hope and dream for a time machine, i know ill never get one. i hardly ever get what i want when i want it.