while browsing facebook the other day...
ouch. yes, this is something i do on a fairly regular basis. and what's worse, i'm about to take part in a facebook-begun fad. but bare with me. i'll do my darndest to turn it into some sort of eloquent insight by paragraph 3.
while browsing facebook the other day, i came across one of those ceaseless 'do this and tag 15 people and pass it on and blah blah blah' things. but it happened to belong to a darling thing i think very highly of so i went ahead and read it. it went a little something like this:
google your name and the word 'needs' by putting them both in quotation marks (ie. "annie needs") and then post the first ten sites that come up. there was probably something at the end about your wildest dreams coming true if you do this, but i skipped that part... and went to google.
i assume the intention here is to find hilarious things such as darling claire's 'claire needs a visit to the bunny planet.' what the?? but mine read as follows:
1. annie needs to be rescued by the armed forces. (hmm...)
2. annie needs a daddy warbucks. (TELL me about it)
3. annie needs to release a live album. (ok that one's funny)
4. annie needs more students like jack. (huh??)
5. annie needs a monday. (no thank you)
6. annie needs a home. (...)
7. annie needs a miracle.
8. annie needs the basics.
9. annie needs prayers.
10. annie needs some advice.
so here's the thing. i need some advice. and a miracle. and a daddy warbucks while you're at it...
i just need a home.
which brings me to number 8. i need to get back to basics. no rhymes no embellishments, no adjectives. for what purpose do i engender the lot so labyrinthine?
why do i make everything so complicated?
it can't only be because i love the thesaurus...
all of this over thinking is making me tired. this is the only life i've got and i'm gonna darn well enjoy it! i'm gonna live by the sea and learn to play the harmonica. i'm going to make my own pasta noodles from scratch and cook for the neighbors. i'm gonna have a pet cat. or fish. or turtle. and i'm going to go for walks and see the sunset. i'm just gonna do it.
so say a little prayer for me. before i end up needing to be saved by the armed forces...
and in the spirit of life and lightheartedness, here's a little something to make you giggle sent to me care of my coworker margaret. we work hard in this office.
here's something else to make you giggle. i've decided to stop biting my nails. i know i know. this happens nearly once a year about this time. but i'm gonna do my best. because annie needs to not have to put bandaids over her bleeding fingers.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
didn't i see you
you wont believe me if i tell you. but i will anyway.
the other night i was sitting on the porch with phil and some students. i was looking at the students, concentrating on whatever story i was absorbed in telling. then i felt something hit my lap and leave. i froze.
annie, a bat just landed in your lap and flew off!
i didn't answer. i hate bats and was going to be sick. but then phil said:
no no. that wasn't a bat. that was a moth.
so we all turned to see if we could find it. and then there it was, fluttering around a little lopsided, a huge moth. it settled down on the cement wall and we all stood and moved over to it.
phil...
i know!
it was him. it was the moth from the office. the same hole on his right side. the same uneven wings, the left hanging down a little further. he was there. and alive. and he came to tell me so.
i found geoff later and told him the story. he stopped in his tracks and held his arms up in the air.
no way! annie, what a hug and kiss from God!
i hadn't thought of that...
the other night i was sitting on the porch with phil and some students. i was looking at the students, concentrating on whatever story i was absorbed in telling. then i felt something hit my lap and leave. i froze.
annie, a bat just landed in your lap and flew off!
i didn't answer. i hate bats and was going to be sick. but then phil said:
no no. that wasn't a bat. that was a moth.
so we all turned to see if we could find it. and then there it was, fluttering around a little lopsided, a huge moth. it settled down on the cement wall and we all stood and moved over to it.
phil...
i know!
it was him. it was the moth from the office. the same hole on his right side. the same uneven wings, the left hanging down a little further. he was there. and alive. and he came to tell me so.
i found geoff later and told him the story. he stopped in his tracks and held his arms up in the air.
no way! annie, what a hug and kiss from God!
i hadn't thought of that...
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
human kind
i saved a moth today. it was a big moth. a huge one. the kind you see in 'national geographic' with the spots on their wings that look like eyes. he had gotten himself stuck in the grate outside the office. he was covered in dust and couldn't move much. i stood over him wondering what to do. then geoff walked by and i asked him if he would help me. he came over and lifted the grate while i used his library book and blue ink pen to lift the dusty moth out into the open. when i looked at him face to face i could see he was dying.
geoff, i think he's dying.
i pulled some of the dirt and weeds away from him and decided to put him somewhere pretty. i carried him to the yellow flowers around the parking lot and put him underneath them. when i walked back i gave geoff his library book and his blue ink pen and geoff said,
thank you for being human annie.
and then he walked away.
i've saved a turtle from the middle of a busy street. i've rescued baby birds who fell out of their trees. and today i tried to save a moth. i never knew why it was so important to me to try and save these little lives. maybe because i've never been able to save a big life. but now i wonder if maybe it was because it was making me human. and i'm tired of forgetting that i'm human.
geoff, i think he's dying.
i pulled some of the dirt and weeds away from him and decided to put him somewhere pretty. i carried him to the yellow flowers around the parking lot and put him underneath them. when i walked back i gave geoff his library book and his blue ink pen and geoff said,
thank you for being human annie.
and then he walked away.
i've saved a turtle from the middle of a busy street. i've rescued baby birds who fell out of their trees. and today i tried to save a moth. i never knew why it was so important to me to try and save these little lives. maybe because i've never been able to save a big life. but now i wonder if maybe it was because it was making me human. and i'm tired of forgetting that i'm human.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
eat a peach for peace
it's tough loving music this much. i watch movies like 'walk the line' and 'high fidelity.' the band's 'last waltz' or 'this is spinal tap.' and next thing i know i'm planning my band's debut performance at the double door. and then i remember i don't play an instrument. so i watch 'almost famous' instead and wonder, if compared to penny lane five times in the same day, does it make it true?
i've never had the musical skills to toot a flute. or the patience to sit through a piano lesson. and my hands are too small to play the guitar. or at least to do that thing where you wrap your thumb around the top of the neck to mute the e string. but i still like to paint my fingernails black and i still know my way around a microphone stand. what i don't know is how to take all my pages of rhyming thought and give them a melody. so they just stay all over my paper like spilled milk.
when i was a little girl, spilling milk was a big deal. my sisters and i would be at the kitchen table eating our mac&cheese and our dill pickles. inevitably some sort of elaborate make-believe scenario would be taking place or sarah would be forcing us to practice a musical routine of some kind. and with all that shouting and singing and grande hand gesturing, someone would topple over their glass of milk. and the fun would cease. the next elaborate performance would be that of stealthily wiping up the mess and cleaning off the table and floor without being caught. a make shift spy drama.
and now i've found myself in a whole other messy... mess. and i'm just as eager to clean it up. or put it to music. or jump on a bus and ride around the nation with a feather boa and a polaroid camera and not worry about any of it.
maybe that will be next on the agenda. dear mister ryan adams, yes i will join you on your upcoming summer tour. seeing as our impending romance will be a hard one to hide, i suggest you notify miss mandy moore of your canceled engagement as soon as possible. see you soon, darling. don't forget the road snacks.
it's all happening,
annie
i've never had the musical skills to toot a flute. or the patience to sit through a piano lesson. and my hands are too small to play the guitar. or at least to do that thing where you wrap your thumb around the top of the neck to mute the e string. but i still like to paint my fingernails black and i still know my way around a microphone stand. what i don't know is how to take all my pages of rhyming thought and give them a melody. so they just stay all over my paper like spilled milk.
when i was a little girl, spilling milk was a big deal. my sisters and i would be at the kitchen table eating our mac&cheese and our dill pickles. inevitably some sort of elaborate make-believe scenario would be taking place or sarah would be forcing us to practice a musical routine of some kind. and with all that shouting and singing and grande hand gesturing, someone would topple over their glass of milk. and the fun would cease. the next elaborate performance would be that of stealthily wiping up the mess and cleaning off the table and floor without being caught. a make shift spy drama.
and now i've found myself in a whole other messy... mess. and i'm just as eager to clean it up. or put it to music. or jump on a bus and ride around the nation with a feather boa and a polaroid camera and not worry about any of it.
maybe that will be next on the agenda. dear mister ryan adams, yes i will join you on your upcoming summer tour. seeing as our impending romance will be a hard one to hide, i suggest you notify miss mandy moore of your canceled engagement as soon as possible. see you soon, darling. don't forget the road snacks.
it's all happening,
annie
Sunday, March 8, 2009
waking simon of cyrene
peace be with you.
peace be with you.
peace be with you.
on a day a long time ago, Jesus Christ fell down. and on that day a man came forward to carry what Christ couldn't. not a god. not a saint. just a simon. and now here we are, so many days later, all falling down on our faces one by one. and i'm starting to wonder, where are all the simons? when did we forget what it meant to step forward and carry the weight for those around us who couldn't? why are our shoulders so empty of crosses? why are mine?
i didn't take communion today. i'm not confirmed. but i did weep. and i'm starting to think that's a sacrament of its own.
while i'm waiting for easter in these following days, i hope i learn to have the strength to carry more than i believe i can. even if its heavy. even if it has blood on it. and maybe i'll learn how to let Christ carry me while i'm at it.
peace be with you. and if you wouldn't mind, and also with me.
peace be with you.
peace be with you.
on a day a long time ago, Jesus Christ fell down. and on that day a man came forward to carry what Christ couldn't. not a god. not a saint. just a simon. and now here we are, so many days later, all falling down on our faces one by one. and i'm starting to wonder, where are all the simons? when did we forget what it meant to step forward and carry the weight for those around us who couldn't? why are our shoulders so empty of crosses? why are mine?
i didn't take communion today. i'm not confirmed. but i did weep. and i'm starting to think that's a sacrament of its own.
while i'm waiting for easter in these following days, i hope i learn to have the strength to carry more than i believe i can. even if its heavy. even if it has blood on it. and maybe i'll learn how to let Christ carry me while i'm at it.
peace be with you. and if you wouldn't mind, and also with me.
Friday, March 6, 2009
truck stops for coffee and presidents for company
i have met:
a girl who owns her own plane.
a boy with an english accent.
a girl who has surfed with jack johnson.
a marathon runner.
a certified pilot.
a pretty redhead.
a professional model.
a swimming champion.
a disciple of rich mullins.
an aspiring housewife.
an excellent cook.
a hypochondriac.
a beatles expert.
a folk singer.
a farmer's daughter.
a girl with an engineering degree and a sense of humor.
a book reading fanatic.
a fellow olivetian.
a boy with a beard.
a soon-to-be nurse.
a soon-to-be wife.
a might-be nun.
a boy with a miniature guitar.
a ballerina.
a missionary kid.
put them together and what have you got? my semester of students. a learning experience a challenge and a whole lot of fun.
and only a few more weeks with them.
and then we all move on.
again.
phil: i've heard the east coast in the states is getting a big winter storm. i haven't seen snow or been sledding in so long. do you guys miss winter?
me: i don't know. being in seattle kind of reminded me that i've forgotten how much effort it takes to exist in the cold!
gwyn: i miss being able to live by the seasons. yeah, there's a winter. but then it's over and you get a spring. and then things grow and then there's a summer and it's hot and then fall and there's campfires. you can judge your year by the change of season.
and then i thought to myself, yet another element of living in the states that perpetuates the american desire to move on. we'll exist in winter, but only as long as we're promised a spring. we're always moving forward. we're always changing places. even if not geographically, we're still changing. or trying to. or wanting to. john steinbeck has some good words about it. (who i had a dream about last night... we were in a tree house. it was odd.) the american predisposition to uprooting oneself.
i've been swept up in it. i'm still participating in it. but maybe someday i'll slow down. or sit still. or plant roots. or even a garden. and i wont have to say goodbye to everyone i meet every time i meet them. and i wont have to spend so much money on plane tickets. and i'll get to actually taste the food that they cook and fly in their airplanes and pirrouette across the kitchen floor. which in the spirit of american understadning will be a whole new phase in and of itself. the phase with roots. not a girl who's a pilgrim.
a girl with a garden.
and a girl with a reason to wear her fancy dress tonight. she might see the president! and you simply can't meet a president in baggy trousers.
library benefit dinner. sounds so very prestigious!
a girl who owns her own plane.
a boy with an english accent.
a girl who has surfed with jack johnson.
a marathon runner.
a certified pilot.
a pretty redhead.
a professional model.
a swimming champion.
a disciple of rich mullins.
an aspiring housewife.
an excellent cook.
a hypochondriac.
a beatles expert.
a folk singer.
a farmer's daughter.
a girl with an engineering degree and a sense of humor.
a book reading fanatic.
a fellow olivetian.
a boy with a beard.
a soon-to-be nurse.
a soon-to-be wife.
a might-be nun.
a boy with a miniature guitar.
a ballerina.
a missionary kid.
put them together and what have you got? my semester of students. a learning experience a challenge and a whole lot of fun.
and only a few more weeks with them.
and then we all move on.
again.
phil: i've heard the east coast in the states is getting a big winter storm. i haven't seen snow or been sledding in so long. do you guys miss winter?
me: i don't know. being in seattle kind of reminded me that i've forgotten how much effort it takes to exist in the cold!
gwyn: i miss being able to live by the seasons. yeah, there's a winter. but then it's over and you get a spring. and then things grow and then there's a summer and it's hot and then fall and there's campfires. you can judge your year by the change of season.
and then i thought to myself, yet another element of living in the states that perpetuates the american desire to move on. we'll exist in winter, but only as long as we're promised a spring. we're always moving forward. we're always changing places. even if not geographically, we're still changing. or trying to. or wanting to. john steinbeck has some good words about it. (who i had a dream about last night... we were in a tree house. it was odd.) the american predisposition to uprooting oneself.
i've been swept up in it. i'm still participating in it. but maybe someday i'll slow down. or sit still. or plant roots. or even a garden. and i wont have to say goodbye to everyone i meet every time i meet them. and i wont have to spend so much money on plane tickets. and i'll get to actually taste the food that they cook and fly in their airplanes and pirrouette across the kitchen floor. which in the spirit of american understadning will be a whole new phase in and of itself. the phase with roots. not a girl who's a pilgrim.
a girl with a garden.
and a girl with a reason to wear her fancy dress tonight. she might see the president! and you simply can't meet a president in baggy trousers.
library benefit dinner. sounds so very prestigious!
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