Thursday, August 20, 2009

Bananarama and a belated adventure log

I just realized that I am, perhaps, more often called "Banana" than my actual name ["Anna"] by my intimate friends .
Does this make it an alias?
Does that make me a spy?

Speaking of intimate friends... remember how I went on that little trip to Yellowstone the weekend before last?
I do! And here's the proof:

[note: these pictures were taken on something of a crappy camera, and I don't yet have pictures of the really gorgeous stuff. Don't you fret. I will deliver.)
best friend, Mary Button. She's like a sister, mother, therapist, publicist, and girlfriend. All in one.

Guess who showed up? [No, the answer is not Jesus.]

He's actually a very attractive person. He just has to look like a crazed lumberjack/ Hebrew prophet for a movie role.... so, really, it's not much different from dating Brad Pitt.
Love, thunder, and more Deet in the mouth than you could possibly comprehend as an outsider,

I can see clearly now

Here's how it goes down:
1 I walk up to the eye test chart, cock-sure of my 20-20 bestowal...

2 My left eye takes 4 or so lines up before it can distinguish a p from an f...

3 I walk away with 20-50 vision.

4 which is quite a bit worse than my mother's...
5 who's in her mid-fifties.
and had a rogue bungee cord severely damage her cornea.

I admit I am sufficiently humbled, and will just have to get cutie specks.
yours in meekness,

Friday, August 14, 2009

Well said, self.

view from backyard of best friend Mary's lake house. This summer has been so magical.
My cherished, tattered notebook of thoughts, lists, and the occasional be-scribbled poem, inspired me today.

yeah, it's a little narcissistic to inspire myself, I realize.
but still.

It was the last line of this:
travel. everywhere.
backpack (travel on meager means. everywhere.)
become completely financially independent.
caravan .
sail around the world.
rock climb (real rocks).

live in the city.
live in the boonies.
and here it is:
*get lost in the lustre of existence*

my own profundity astounds me sometimes. (Note the use of the "re" ending. Very European.)
ummm I really hope I didn't read that phrase somewhere.

How should I go about doing that?

love. banana.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

I'm a readin' machine!

"The boy didn’t know what a person’s 'Personal Legend' was.

“It’s what you have always wanted to accomplish. Everyone, when they are young, knows what their Personal Legend is.

“At that point in their lives, everything is clear and everything is possible. They are not afraid to dream, and to yean for everything they would like to see happen to them in their lives. But, as time passes, mysterious forces begins to convince them that it will be impossible for them to realize their Personal Legend."

I finished this last night.
It was beautiful!

I think sometimes the most profound thoughts are best expressed with simplicity.
I feel all motivated now to
1. realize my personal legend
2. make each day a day of learning and growth
3. Never ever fear failure
4. [in the least trite way possible] Believe in myself.

And it helps that I'll be seeing the Egyptian pyramids myself in a month or so!

*Stay tuned for the photographs of my magnificent weekend adventure in the back country of Yellowstone*

love, camels, and the Soul of the Universe,

Monday, August 10, 2009

Oh, Charles...

Okay. So I finished this book.

I am blown away
by the fact that something I started many many months ago and felt agony reading through much of
ended up being
one of the most beautiful things I have ever laid my mind on.

I was totally moved to tears.
I was totally impressed.
It was totally worth it.

The humanity, the insight, the language, the humor, the masterful understanding of the human being....


I decided, after closing the glorious cover, my heart and eyes all burny, that I would (like Desmond on "LOST")
"every glorious word" of that
magical Mr. Dickens'.

Liberté, égalité, et fraternité,



I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

Billy Collins

that's all, folks


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