i keep my visions to myself

Brace yourself kids...this is gonna be a long one WOOOO!!!

I am happy. And I'm thankful that I (for once) listened to everyone around me, because from the time my Grandma died until I was back home visiting my family for the holidays I was not happy. And me not being happy meant, like always, I was constantly thinking how do i get out, get me out, get me out  and planning a hundred different escape routes to other cities spread out across the United States. LA is not the problem. HANNA is the problem, haha. LA has never done anything but give me things that I've always wanted but have never been able to find elsewhere. I was very seriously considering two options: moving back to Buffalo and attempting to take over my Grandma's house, or moving to Denver where I know absolutely no one and just starting over with a blank slate. I LOVE BLANK SLATES. I love starting over. I always have. This does not mean that it's always the necessary or intelligent thing to do. And I will admit I found myself in bed one night, Googling symptoms of panic disorders because I had been feeling so consistently horrible and that day in particular had been plagued with an intense fear of something I couldn't even fucking understand. Google told me to wait a little while longer before doing crazy things, because it takes about 2 months to start feeling relief from the grief of losing a loved one. And almost 2 months to the day after she died, I started feeling better. And we all lived happily ever after.

I'll be honest; it wasn't just Google that told me to wait before making crazy decisions about my life. Leaving you doesn't show up anywhere on my to-do list...

I miss her so much. No matter what, she is in the back of my mind. Sometimes I can't stop thinking about what her hands felt like while I held them in the hospital. Her skin was so soft. And we all commented on that. How did we not notice that before? I wish I would have held her hands every single day. I wonder if dealing with loss ever gets easier. My friends are starting to get married and have kids and even THAT is bizarre to me. I can't imagine being at an age where my friends start dying. If it's just a matter of growing numb to it, then I don't want any part of that. I will gladly be the girl who seems to be more emotional than everyone else, because emotion is free and it's my own and when I feel something, I know I'm feeling it for a reason.

Wednesday morning was the first time that a Starbucks barista has EVER spelled my name correctly on a cup. H-A-N-N-A!

Brady and I talked about it briefly, but I'm starting to think that I don't want to live in the United States forever. Actually I'm not starting to think it, I am DEFINITELY thinking it. In Eat Pray Love (don't you judge me) Julia Roberts sits in a barber shop in Italy, listening to a man tell her that Americans have a psychotic, foolish obsession with work. And that is because we're obsessed with money. And that is because we want "the life" which means getting every extravagant material thing we want the moment we see it. We've labeled all the commercial bullshit "normal" and taught our kids that they need to live life this way as well. Life is so short...why do we put so much desire and emotion into money when there is so much beauty in the world that doesn't cost anything? Or when it is crystal clear that GREED has made America the fat idiot kid in the class?

But back to Eat Pray Love and being obsessed with work. I know I don't love to work, but I AM a productive girl with a great work ethic. But I also know when enough is enough. What I do is not who I am, and I am not my circumstances. Moving to a place like Bali sounds more and more like the right decision every day. Haha I am my father. If you know him, you know why I just said that. Pierce Hill is his Bali, his quiet green masterpiece that is so far removed from the insanity and noise of the world that sometimes when I'm there I forget anything else exists. I want to work to make the world a better place, and when I'm done doing that for the day, I want to be able to hear birds singing and put my arms around someone that I love.

I got myself back and it feels so good

feels like a midget is hangin' from my necklace

I've heard a lot of odd tactics to combat stress when you're sinking in it, but perhaps the best was a friend that told me to just focus on color. Maybe he does it differently, but I took that to mean ignoring the purpose, shape, and size of everything and only see the colors that exist, nothing else. It's tough to shut down like that and only focus on one thing at a time, but when I'm able to do it I can feel my mood lift almost instantly. Color always makes me happy anyway; I can look at the color of a lush, freshly cut deep green lawn in the summer and feel so happy that I can't even contain it- it's almost like I'm soaking up the health of the grass and getting all juiced up on it lol. I look at deep pinks and feel warm and content. I think color affects some people a little more than others, just like anything else in the world, but that little suggestion has completely changed some of my worst days.

Going home for the first time in over 6 months tomorrow night- I'll only have 3 days to spend with my family and that's NOT enough. What can I really do about it? Most of my friends in LA have been here their entire lives, so their families are here too. It's the one thing that bothers me regularly, and there's no way for me to fix it. I'm still excited! This has been the longest I've gone without being on a plane in about 2 and a half years. What a weird thought

(they didn't have you where i come from, never knew the best was yet to come)

Evi, who is one of the best people I know by the way, has been finding all these articles on being introverted and posting them online. She posted this one (read!) a few days ago. There are some sentences in this that are so scarily similar to things I've felt and written myself that I felt an overwhelming sense of relief after reading it. Everything is me; thriving on reflection and alone time, feeling depleted by too much social engagement, exercising not for the workout but for the time alone with my own thoughts, feeling inadequate in the workplace because the phrase "throw some ideas at me" isn't how I work through things in my head. These 2 sections in particular struck a chord:

"An introvert who is silent in a group may actually be quite engaged—taking in what is said, thinking about it, waiting for a turn to speak—but will be seen in the U.S. as a poor communicator."

"Hardest was feeling judged—and judging herself—for how she was wired. Others would nudge her: 'Just say what you think.' Being reflective was not appreciated or encouraged."

My boyfriend is like a puppy (An incredible, brilliant, generous, gorgeous puppy lol). He is always jumping around, being friendly, talking to everyone within 20 feet, trying to understand everything. This is the single major difference between us and it's very apparent. We're both 100% able to keep ourselves happy almost all the time, but the routes we take to get there are drastically different. I'm an active person, but I'd rather sit still and recharge. I'm a very friendly person, and around some people I'm REALLY outgoing, but I hate small talk and I usually only speak when I feel like what I'm going to say will be appreciated. I of course want to understand everything too, but instead of jumping in and asking questions, I learn more by sitting back and observing. I love him and I would not change a single hair on his head, but the differences in the way we act are hilarious to me.

I think the crazy side of me magically appears when I feel like I'm truly understood. And that feeling either pops up immediately after meeting someone (my coworker Justin for example, has witnessed it from day 1 because I sensed in our 1st meeting that we were very very similar) or it will take a long, LONG time to work up to. The guys in the machine room at CBS always see me at my craziest for some reason- prime example would be today when Jesse and I had a loud obnoxious dance party to Big & Chunky in front of people I've never met in my life. Being reassured that it's OK to "let loose" and being asked to be crazy are both automatic turnoffs. It's offensive to me because I AM silly and ridiculous and me not displaying that for someone by no means gives them the right to ask for it. It's difficult to explain properly but that's the best I can do. The trouble with feeling that way is that the rest of the world seems to think that I need to be coaxed into being extroverted and all that will ever do is make me retreat deeper. People can run circles around me and yell at me and beg me to get crazy, and I think to myself, "if you knew me at all you'd know that if you never prompted me for it, it would likely appear on its own one day." The people that I keep in my life are the ones that have picked up on that.

Have you heard Joan Osborne's (circa 1992 or something) cover of Dylan's "Man In The Long Black Coat?" If you haven't, do yourself the favor. That song is fucking amazing.

juin, juillet, août

It's practically summer?

Why is it so hard for me to accept the fact that summer exists outside of 3013 PHR? For some reason, even in a place where it's beautiful all the time like it is here, it's only truly summer when I am in the woods and there is nothing around me except for trees. I have very vivid memories of summer trips, NYC especially, but they don't have that very particular feeling of summer attached to them. It just doesn't feel like summer here, it feels like it always feels and that's it. It's not a bad thing at all, I obviously love pretty weather, I think my body is just confused by it.

Western NY summers are always better inside my imagination anyway lol. When it's sunny it's a 90 degree humid mess, and when it's not a 90 degree humid mess it's raining so hard that it washes away my parents driveway. Even being fully aware of that fact, I still crave it. I'm jealous that they have thunderstorms.

I'm super fascinated with how other people set up their iTunes. Mike, for example, deletes all album info and just keeps a massive list of Song Title + Artist Name. His playlists are all specific artists for the most part. iTunes is (very ironically) probably the one and only thing in my life that I don't organize. There are huge amounts of Unknown Albums and mismatched genres and Track 02s and 3 different listings of JJ Cale because his name is spelled with and without periods in his initials. The music is so important to me that I can't focus on anything else except for the sound. My playlists are organized by mood and task and weather and date. Every summer from 2005 onward has its own playlist, and all the summers before get sort of hazy so they're just lumped together in a "high school" playlist. My parents also have their own playlists; my dad because he is the #1 inspiration for my music taste and most of my iTunes library is all stuff that I grew up with. My mom has one because she lets me decide what music goes on her little iPod shuffle, and she says I've never put anything on it that she doesn't like. She's easy to please with music, or maybe I just know her way too well.

It's sad that it had to come from her being laid off, but I can call my mom on my way to work every morning and it puts both of us in an amazing mood. She's such a beautiful person and I'm so tired of watching both of my parents struggle with bad things that are out of their control. I used to think that there wasn't much I could do being 3,000 miles away but now I am very certain it's the opposite. Sometimes I call her in the morning and she's crying because she's so stressed out, and by the end of my 30 minute commute we're both laughing and she's telling me I'm the only person in the world that truly understands her.

It could be any number of things, but something is making me love people so much more lately. I want to devote more of my time to showing the people that I love how amazing I think they are. Even things that I usually am not so impressed with (lets say children for example hahaha) are striking a certain chord inside of me. I was walking up Robertson on Thursday morning and saw a little girl swinging around on a parking meter that her mother was putting change in, and when a delivery man pulled a dolly stacked with boxes up over the curb and onto the sidewalk the girl stopped, looked at the delivery man and asked him, "ISN'T THAT HEAVY? ARE YOU OKAY?" And the concerned look on her face made me smile for the rest of the day.

I've always had a really hard time truly being myself around people. It's not to say I'm fake, I'm not. I just keep a lot hidden because I'm for some stupid reason very scared that I'm going to be judged for the things I love. I don't know why that is, but I think that fear is starting to disappear. Maybe not with everyone, but with a few people. One in particular, and that's very important.

My weekend was very relaxing

samedi quelle belle journée, et le beau dimanche

10. Cat Power - The Moon

9. James - Out To Get You

8. Paul Simon - She Moves On (love this song so sososososoosooo much)

7. JJ Cale - Don't Go To Strangers

6. Hope Sandoval & The Warm Inventions - For The Rest Of Your Life

5. Dave Matthews Band - Let You Down

4. Cowboy Junkies - Pale Sun

3. Robin Trower - About To Begin

2. Santana - Sideways

1. My favorite song of all time- one that I discovered on a night exactly like the one described below and fell so in love with that it never really exited my brain: Sly & The Family Stone - Que Sera Sera

There's a certain kind of night in my hometown in the dead of summer that I love more than anything. The kind that rains out of guilt when the heat & humidity are too much to handle. I'm sure a million other places have similar nights, but it's different when the house you grew up in is in the middle of the woods (literally) and it's so silent that you can almost hear the heat itself.

There's nothing but love on your mind

Sunday afternoon I hit a low point. I hit a low point that I never imagined myself reaching, had a conversation I dreaded and wanted to walk away from, and felt like I had failed for the first time here. I may not like this place all the time, but generally I know I'm doing OK. Maybe I needed to bounce; maybe that's as low as I'll go in this colorful new residency of mine and the future will be spent just like the past 6 days. I've woken up feeling ok. I've gone to bed feeling ok. The events of each day have turned into something to anticipate, even if I can't really tell the world (or the internet) why it's happened that way.

By the time I step out of a car onto Franklinville snow, it will have been 5 months to the day since I moved here. I will have seen my parents once in those 5 months. I call them every day...I take 5-15 minutes out of my workday to tell them I love them. And I'm so lucky for that, because they are the 2 most beautiful people in the entire world.

My Dad is someone who hit rock bottom several years ago and had the strength to turn around by himself and make his life and my family's lives better. He makes me laugh like no one else on this earth will ever be able to. He's had the craziest, most soulful life doing what he wanted to do and has implanted that soul into me and told me to do what makes me happy. And wouldn't you know, doing what makes me happy has never led me in a harmful direction. In fact, it's reserved me one of the best lives that I think a person can live. This is a man that told me, "You have never failed at something you really wanted. The second you decide you want something, it's yours, and I will never understand how you do it, it blows my mind." A man that emails me out of the blue to tell me he thought about me all day and how proud of me he is. A man that has practically always been on my side unless I did something really fucking stupid haha.

(prime example, piercing my own belly button in 9th grade...he wasn't on my side that day.)

My Mom is my rock. My gorgeous, determined, adorable, nervous rock. A lady who has singlehandedly been the glue that kept everything together in my family on more than one occasion. A lady that answers the phone with "Hello Beautiful" every time I call home no matter what kind of day she had. A lady that is often misunderstood and will never give herself enough credit. A lady that I can call anytime to tell her the latest stupid mistake I made (and the last one I threw at her was a biggie...not PC for the blog even) and she will listen calmly, tell me I can only do what's right for me and not other people, tell me the best way to wiggle out of the situation, and assure me that I Will Be Okay.

I'm pretty confident that life is taking me somewhere I can't even dream up right now; that's just how it's always been. Something bigger and better is always placed in my lap with a bow on it. All I have to do is untie it and it's mine- I can play around with it, grow with it, learn about it, and make it entirely my own. I've strolled through my life like a big fricken tunnel...I never veer off and try other paths, I literally ONLY head in one direction and that is upward. There is no maze to confuse me. I just take what I find and enjoy the ride until I come across something even more incredible. Hard to describe the right way unless you know me very well, and then I think you know exactly what I'm talking about.

What better songs to post than ones that make me feel like I'm weightless, on backroads winding through the rural sun? Cause that has always been where I feel the most alive =)

MP3 [Terry Reid - Seed of Memory]
MP3 [Terry Reid - Brave Awakening]

put it in the pantry with your cupcakes

What do you suppose happens when something makes you feel so comfortable and so happy, in a place where without this certain thing you would feel totally alone? You naturally let yourself get attached. I've been wondering lately if the thing I've let myself get attached to is something I would want if I had the rest of my life here with me, and unfortunately the answer is yes. Not so unfortunate in the grand scheme of things, but mildy hurtful on a day-to-day basis. Sometimes things just sneak up on you...

I made last-minute travel plans to go see the band play at Outside Lands in San Francisco on Sunday. I'm so excited. I need a day away from LA and my own brain, and the company I'll be keeping is great. Plus, I remember booking imaginary flights to San Fran when I was younger and praying that one day I'd get to go because I wanted to see it soooo badly (blame it on Full House hahaaaaaa). I like when wishes I had when I was little come true, it's the most satisfying feeling in the world. Though, my 8th grade self wanted a lime green Mazda Miata, and I'm happy to report that I'll be OK if that one never actually happens.

What would Franklinville think if she knew how much I've already fallen for this place? Photo of the day: Pierce Hill, between the Allegany River and rt16. I've been extra into photography lately. Maybe it's because there's so much stuff around me that I've never seen before, or maybe LA brings out the creative side of me? Either way, I'm glad I have my camera with me (though I just realized I left it in my desk drawer at the office, FUCK. I guess I had to go back there to grab my bike tomorrow anyway...) so I can document all the weird things happening to me lately.

I should probably go to bed...I'm completely exhausted and I know this is my only chance to get 8+ hours of good sleep since the next week and a half will be so crazy. I feel better writing even if I said absolutely nothing. That's the whole purpose of a blog, no?

xo

whitewashed this shit

I decided to start making this public. Definitely not making any of the old posts viewable, but I think I need a new beginning somewhere in my life and this seems like the most painless way to do it.

As if moving across the country wasn't "new" enough for me.

Sometimes I wonder what it was that really made me pick up my life and transport it 3000 miles away. It could be 2 things: something I wanted in California, or something I didn't want in New York. I've tried sorting through that but never get very far. Maybe I had nothing in either place and it was just where I was supposed to me. Maybe it was just a stupid, hasty decision.

I do like it here. Actually I love it here. There is something to be said about being able to get up and expect sunshine every day, to put your feet in the ocean whenever you want, to bike to work in 10 minutes with amazing people. Los Angeles has a lot of lazy appeal.

I booked a flight home yesterday so I can be with the people I love on my birthday. I'll be home for 6 days, and there are only 3 people that I NEED to see. Everyone else can pop in if they want...if not....I'm not concerned. Is that bad? I feel very basic lately, like moving here has made me realize I only need the bare minimum to be comfortable. Though I'm not sure if comfortable is really what I am.

I got up at 8:30 today, walked back to Greg's, biked to Venice, rode bikes down the path to the pier, got some sun, swam in the ocean, got a really satisfying lunch, came home and napped, watched a movie....I felt like I was in California for the first time today. I've been here over 3 weeks and today is the first day I felt like I was here. When you've lived somewhere your whole life, do you always feel like wherever you go is where you've always been? I guess I was expecting it to feel different than NY did. If you've never lived in the same place for very long, are you more aware of differences? Maybe life isn't so different on the opposite end of the United States. Or maybe it really is, but it's how you live it that makes it what it is.

One thing is for sure: laying in the grass on a huge hill in rural WNY in real fresh air is absolutely nothing like laying in the grass near the boardwalk in Venice Beach. But it is grass, and it has still given me mild clarity about life. I just can't wait to get back to Pierce Hill and do the damn thing.

Tonight was a peculiar night. I think I'm ready to pass out and forget about it now.