Missing Everywhere but Here
Oh boy. It’s been quite a long long while since I’ve gotten some personal writing in. The neglect! Shame on me. Today begins the rectification of this sad sad truth!
Alright, enough of the dramatic. (I kinda had to start that way though, no? Makes for a more interesting hook.)
Today is one of those rare days in L.A. where the clouds dominate and cast the most refreshing shadow over the whole city. Coolness abounds, and we all just want to cuddle up and watch 20 hours of whatever show we’re obsessed with at the moment (basically all of HBO’s roster). Also—the perfect kind of day for daydreaming. Let’s face it, I pretty much do that 24/7 anyway, so who am I kidding? You could easily refer back to my earlier post about restlessness, but this is slightly different. This feeling that’s been consuming me lately is more focused on reflection than moving forward. I’ve lived in a few places in my day, and to feel simultaneously that my bones ache for all of them is quite the conundrum.
Home is home. I mean, it’s the place where most things solid began and shaped the weirdo that I am. Of course there’s a part of me that holds the nostalgia to the highest regard. When I daydream about North Dakota, although it’s slightly blurred, there’s still this very specific day that I envision. (Some of my friends have had to listen to this recently, so I apologize for the redundancy. Just skip ahead, ya poops.) It always starts where I’m in a grassy field. No particular one. Just, a field with tall grass that blows gently in the wind. In the summer. I’m lying there in a flowy skirt in my bare feet. Eyes closed. Arms and legs spread out. It’s nap time.
(Now I actually think it’s important to mention that I’m always watching myself in these scenarios as an objective viewer. It’s almost like I’m watching a movie of what could be.)
Okay, so the next thing I know I’m driving an old VW Bug with the windows rolled down, not even necessarily listening to music (that changes from day to day), and I always have the biggest smile on my face. I look like I’m in one of those commercials for “living my life to the fullest after menopause.” I stop at a beat-up old gas station and grab a bag of Corn Nuts and a Peach Tea. I just keep driving and driving down the old country roads until I arrive home to the house in which I grew up. I grab my bicycle and just start riding. From Mandan I ride across the river to Bismarck and just keep riding through dusk until dark. Along the river, through the woods (and yes, perhaps even to my grandma’s). It gets cooler as it gets darker, but that warm wind of a hot summer day persists into the night. It’s so dark now, and I push harder and harder and harder and ride so fast, feeling every muscle work for me. I ride home and arrive exhausted and sweaty and so fucking happy. I sit on my back steps under the stars and eat the biggest piece of the juiciest watermelon ever conceived in nature. I make a huge mess slobbering down my chin, and I still can’t stop smiling. I take one of my deep breaths, and everything is perfect.
So now to go a bit opposite from that…
I’m in New York City. (It HAS to be opposite from the midwest, for crap’s sake) I miss that gorgeous beast more than I can tell you. I basically pick a different street every day and think about what I would do there. But something kind of interesting lately has been an alternate-life me. An alternate life where I went to Julliard for dance and am the most lovely and beautiful creative force. I have a husband that works an office job that he loves (for a nonprofit). We have two kids (so far) that are both under 5, and are pretty much the funniest and bravest people I know. For my job, I write a blog (because everybody finds me so insightful and silly) about our life together. We live in the most amazing brownstone on the Upper West Side, and the kids and I spend our days adventuring through the city. Picnicking in Central Park. Going to the Natural History Museum and eating gelato. And always wearing the most amazing clothes—chic as hell. When husband comes home, we all make dinner together and fall asleep talking about how amazing our days were. And did I mention we’re all so in love? Ahhh, alterna-Annitsa (alternannitsa) is pretttttty fuckin’ cool.
Next week, I’ll be in Minneapolis singing in a band that’s about to blow up. Nothin wrong with that. Stay tuned.