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.  


I gots nothin. 

I gots nothin. 


The only way you’ll find out if you are good at something, is if you do it. The only way to find out if you should be with someone, is to go for it.
More Amy Poehler because she is THAT amazing.  

Great people do things before they’re ready. They do things before they know they can do it.
The Great Amy Poehler

Restlessness.

Alright.  I’m gonna be really honest.  I’ve got a problem.  Well, I guess sometimes it’s not a bad thing, but let me explain.  My whole life I’ve felt this sort of rumbling deep down that makes me want big things.  Big changes.  Big surprises.  Big events.  Big feelings.  It kinda ends up coming out in the form of restlessness.  

Growing up in North Dakota, all I ever wanted was to get out.  I knew in my heart that I was destined to have a great adventure trying to fulfill my heart’s deepest desires.  To deal with that unsettling feeling I turned to an everyday appreciation of the little things around me.  That’s something that has served me well over the years.  I’m in love with something every day, even when I know that I’m not quite settled.  But more on that later.  So, after I graduated, I bolted.  It’s never been about wanting to be away from everyone in my life.  Far from it.  It’s just been about knowing that deep down I am alone in my path.  I have to find what makes me happy.  I can’t take people with me on that journey.  So off I went to Minneapolis.  Everyone always says that life is what happens when you are busy making other plans, and this is 100% true.  I fell in love with the city and had a wonderful first year at a great university.  School was something I did well.  I was thriving and learning so much studying the most fascinating major.  I went home over the summer, fell madly in love, and went back to school in the fall.  I kinda started to feel like I had it all.  I was pursuing something exciting and all the while knowing that someone loved me for it.  

Then I got sick.  I’m talking hospital-stay-to-save-my-life kind of sick.  In the span of three days everything changed.  I had to withdraw from school, move back home, and use at least the next six months to recuperate.  Not cool. Slight setback.  Restlessness setting back in.  There was no way I was lying in bed and becoming a Soap watcher.  A month after I got back home I was working 2.5 jobs.  It was pretty exhausting, but I had to move my ass.  And really the best part about being back was no longer having a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend.  Think of the positives.  But I had to keep moving forward.  A series of crazy events transpired, and I found myself with a scholarship to New York.  It seemed like I had two choices—move back to Minneapolis in the spring and try to pick back up or move to New York and do something completely foreign.  When I told my boyfriend that I had gotten a scholarship, all he said was, “When are we moving to New York?”.  

That was all I needed.  The push began.  Working our asses off to save money and move in less than a year.  Being crazy in love helps that push, doesn’t it?  It’s something so big on its own that it feels like its own life force.  There I was again, working toward something huge.  We took two suitcases each and a train ride to our new life.  Little did I know that our domestic situation was not the life for me.  It became difficult for me at such a young age to be able to balance finding my own path and being part of a couple.  Living together was like being married.  It was so important to me that I lost myself in it.  That’ll happen.  New York was a love of my life, still is, but when I look back on it I wish I had lived it a little differently.  When my boyfriend and I broke up, I had to break up with the city too.  My life needed to change.  Again.  I jumped.  I moved to L.A. with four months’ notice.  New adventure.  I couldn’t just do nothing.  My broken heart needed me to do something.  Change.  Grow.  Once again I had to start fresh.  I left my beautiful friends in New York and went out on my own.  

Am I always running away?  It doesn’t feel like that, but when it feels like I’m not doing enough to satisfy that voice inside I have to do something, anything.  Hence, maybe it’s a problem.  I’ve been in L.A. now for four years.  That’s the longest I’ve been anywhere since I left home nine years ago.  I feel restless again, and I’m not sure why.  I don’t want to move.  I have a vision for my career and it’s only achieved here.  

Maybe it’s because another birthday is coming up.  I’m nervous because I love birthdays, and last year I was a sad sack of shit. I don’t want to fall into that again.  What I had mentioned at the beginning of this long stream-of-consciousness rant is that I’m in love with things every day.  This is super true because I get this giddy feeling when I feel the cold side of the pillowcase or ride my bike with no hands for the first time or compliment a stranger.  I love these things.  In fact, I used to do something on Facebook called “Small Pleasures” where I would say every single day one small thing that made me happy.  No matter what kind of shitty sadness I could have been in.  

Here’s where I’m finding things interesting……the fact that I can enjoy right where I am and still feel like I’m yearning to the point of sickness.  It’s an ache in me.  The most positive way to see any of this is that I have a fire in my belly.  A fire to be better.  It’s not that I don’t appreciate what I have.  Holy crap, no.  I know how lucky I am, and I want to push and give back in my own way.  I want big things for myself.  Big experiences.  Great mistakes.  Huge love.  And I want to be around people that feel that same thing.  I think any sadness in loneliness that I feel is because I would love to be with someone who feels those same things.  Who has a fire in his belly for me and for his own life.  I think many people would call me dramatic (and do), but I think of it as living Epic.  Everything means something to me.  I have learned so much about myself over the course of the last year (where I have been completely single, the longest period since I started dating at the ripe age of 17….)  I’ve made huge realizations about my personality that have helped me understand my actions, but I’m still trying to grapple with this restlessness.  If it’s not wanting to change my hair (long, short, blonde, red, brunette), get a tattoo, a piercing, go on a trip—it’s something else.  If I’ve learned to value myself more than I ever have before, why do I want to change all the time?  It’s such a strange dichotomy.  

I think that’s life.  


this show is happiness.

(via papertree)



so much in my head.  so much writing.  but until i can make sense of it all, i post this for you.  i watched it last night for the 100th time.  ”i’d go the whole wide world…” 

so much in my head.  so much writing.  but until i can make sense of it all, i post this for you.  i watched it last night for the 100th time.  ”i’d go the whole wide world…” 


when l.a. gets safe, it gets classy.  real hard.  

when l.a. gets safe, it gets classy.  real hard.  


can this please be happening right now?  and can i please marry simon pegg?  or martin freeman?  early birthday present??