The truth, and also it's really quiet here right now

Well, quiet for Los Angeles anyway. I surprise myself by how well I can block out background noise after living here for a few years. I could put on music or the TV, but silence seems so refreshing right now. It's like being really hot and thirsty and feeling the first sip of water go allllll the way down into your stomach.

"If both of you know the same stuff, one of you is unnecessary"

That is something that Tom Waits said in an interview (it's a really good interview, but I suspect they're all good when the interviewee is Tom Waits) back in 2006, and I've noticed a new vein of truth running through it recently. I've never had trouble accepting other people's lifestyles because they're none of my business, but when these lovely people try to share their love and interests with me, I become a bit quick to judge if it's not something I like as well. I've been working on that.

It's annoying to hear, "I'm working on that" because it sounds like I'm half-assing it; it's not something I can work on, I either do it or I don't. Please let me clarify: I'm working on noticing as soon as I'm a little too quick to judge so that I'll be that much more aware for the next time. I've mentioned it before, but I'm always more judgmental and hard on the people I'm closest to. I'm so relaxed around this very small group that I don't feel like I have to proofread my thoughts before I speak because conversation is so easy, and that's when I sometimes say things that are judgemental. Some people embrace it and some don't, but if I love these people (and I do I do I doooo!) I should be willing to make an effort to not be hurtful.

After the past week of such scary sadness in the news, I find myself wishing that I could pick everyone up out of their arguments and their hate, give each one of them the biggest hug that I can muster, and then set them all down in a big circle so we can drink some hot tea and look at the stars and regain some perspective on how truly tiny we are in relation to the universe. I just don't think the world can handle any more hate from the human race, and the only way I can fix that is to soothe any burning hatred that I find in myself. The only humans we have any control over are the ones whose bodies we are breathing and walking in each day. There is no point in trying to control anyone else. There is no point in trying to control anyone else! 

It's why I can't involve myself in any discussion about gun control, abortion, gay marriage, immigration, religion, etc etc etc etttccccc. I have absolutely no right to tell anyone else what to do with their life, and the same goes for them. Any strong opinions that I have are biases that I've developed purely through personal observation and experience and should never be used to back up an argument with someone else on how to live. We cannot keep assuming what's best for ourselves is also best for everyone else. It's scarily obtuse and selfish to do so and it's sad to watch the country that I live in get so caught up in these things because they've got no idea how to step back.

Doesn't it seem like America is at that exact point in a lovers' quarrel where so many hurtful things have been said/done that everyone is off-balance so they just go totally apeshit out of sheer frustration? We've got no idea how to fix the messes we've made, but we keep digging deeper.

Enough.

I finished a huge freelance project last night - the project that is going to pay for my trip to Thailand and Bali later this year. Thursday night I left work knowing that I should work on it, but I couldn't bring myself to do it - instead I put David Crosby's 'If I Could Only Remember My Name' album on my record player and had a couple hilarious conversations with BV and Cindy. I went to bed feeling so content and lighthearted that I woke up totally ready to tackle the rest of the project, and so I did. It looks so good you guys; I can't wait to share it! I don't think I've ever felt so proud of a freelance project. And let me tell you.....waking up to a client email that says, "I think I just cried tears of joy" is THE BEST feeling a web designer can possibly have!

I'm also trying to sketch at least 3 or 4 times a week. I'm always in the mood to draw, so I might as well make use of it. I put most of them on Instagram, but they're sprinkled throughout this post just to break up my very wordy thoughts.

I love each and every one of you. Have I said that lately? It's the truth.

--

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The mistakes that I've made

I fucked up. Really bad.

I pushed someone that I love very far away. I was inconsiderate. I was hurtful. It wasn't all me, but a lot of the bottom-line issues were my own.

I don't know why I have such a hard time identifying with people. I just don't get it. I notice myself having a big, open heart for inanimate objects and animals and fictional fucking characters, but when it comes to returning love to the people that love me, I always struggle. I take love for granted and I treat people like they're disposable, even though I don't mean to do it.

I told BV on Thursday night (the first time that we've seen each other in months, because I'm an asshole that went on a 2 month long bender and ignored the breakup almost entirely) that I'm not wired to give out love as easily as he is. I wish that I was, but I just wasn't born that way. I'm envious of his ability to love other people so openly. All he ever wanted from me was for me to be able to match the amount of care that he showed me, and I was rarely able to. He cares more than the average person, and I care less. Those qualities don't mesh well. And now he's leaving on a month long road trip and then moving away shortly after he gets back, and I've spent my weekend feeling terrified of the day that he leaves. The second he walked into my apartment on Thursday I started to miss him.

I'm not with this person anymore. We gave it 3 years before the differences between us just became too large, looming over our heads. It made sense to end the relationship. It still makes sense that we ended the relationship. There is a difference between missing someone and wanting to be with someone (thanks Ian), and I know I just miss him. But have you ever loved another person so much that you're never really sure WHAT the fuck you feel?

I had a conversation with a coworker a while ago - he hung up the phone after a quick conversation with his girlfriend and said, "That girl loves me so much." I said, "I know that feeling. I ran screaming from that feeling." He said, "That'll change. When you get older you get tired of running." And in my head, a little red light turned on and I thought YIKES. Am I just doing this/feeling this/being like this because I (wrongly) think that I have all the time in the world? Am I going to reach a point where I'm just tired of running and would really appreciate someone loving me so much that it's too much? Because...when THAT day comes, I'm going to feel even worse than I feel today. Shit.

This is why I'm so hard on myself when I mess up even the smallest things, and it's also why I'm hesitant to put myself in new situations where I know I might mess something up or appear less than perfect. Because the way I feel when I do is the loneliest, saddest feeling. I am such a dick sometimes that I really deserve to feel bad, so I scold myself if no one else does it first. I know that no one cares about my life as much as I do, and very few people pay attention to my fuckups, but let me assure you: I remember themm aalllllll.

It's scary becoming close to someone. It is the scariest thing I've ever felt. I'd like to think of myself as an open book, but I'm really only sharing the best parts with the rest of the world. The bad stuff never sees the light of day. It's impossible to hide those things when we're truly close to someone, and trying to never mess up is just exhausting. I am exhausted.

The same love, the doll parts, the something-is-missing

First things first, my bedroom is on ApartmentTherapy.com! The post is here and you can vote for me by clicking the red heart at the bottom of the post. It will let you log in with Facebook or Twitter so it's quick and painless! I need about...ohhhh...500 votes to get into the top 4 that will carry me through to the final round, and right now I have..........25. Hahahaha. I'm just happy to be in the running.

With that said, there's no need to post the pictures here (I tricked you!! Mothafuckaaas) because they're on AT and you can just see them there when you vote. If I had outtakes I'd post them here, but I was shooting on a weekday morning and therefore making myself late for work, so I only took what I needed to and then ran out the door.

I've had a strange weekend. There was nothing wrong with it; I went to see a screening of Jemal's short film at the Egyptian Theater, went out to eat with lovely people, went dancing in West Hollywood, lounged around, worked...but something felt off. I know what made it feel that way, and it's fine for me to suddenly feel it, especially since I've spent the past 3-4 months after this breakup not really feeling bad at all. It's just strange that it took so long to catch up with me. Friday I realized that I haven't gotten many hugs lately, and there used to be an abundance of them haha. It's all gonna be just fine, I know. Even writing it here makes me feel better. At least this way I'm taking a fistful of the clouds in my head and leaving them here on the internet for someone else to process for a while. THINKING IS SO HARD.

Point being, if you read this and you see me, you should drop everything and gimme a nice creepy bear hug.

From the past few days:

(scary doll head!)

Jemal DRACO it was so wonderful to see your face on the big screen for the first time (and certainly not the last). I love you!

I may just have a ragestorm brewing in my bones today, but I have to take a moment to note something. I LOVE...LOVE love love the blogging community because they are well-worded and thoughtful and the best listeners and friends, but every now and then I encounter one of those people that I can just tell was the kind of kid that always told on other students in school. Sometimes I just wanna crawl through my computer and grab a bitch by the throat. I'M ALREADY FEISTY ENOUGH DON'T MAKE ME WORSE

I am 
doll parts 
bad skin
doll heart


--

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The black wall, the urge to punch myself in the throat

I was gonna march right over to Orchard Supply Hardware on Saturday and buy myself a gallon of black paint, but I was so hungover that I couldn't move from my bed on Saturday, so I marched right over on Sunday instead. I'll get to that in a minute.

A couple weeks ago I posted this photo on Instagram and my friend Jacob commented on it, saying, "you are on one lately, I love it."

I thought to myself, "Yes sir I AM on one lately, and it feels just great."

I then thought, "maybe I should stop being on one?" and immediately was like NAWW that's not necessary, I haven't been out of control, I've just been doing a ton of new things and I feel great. EVERYTHING IS GREAT.

Saturday I woke up with a fake tattoo on my arm that I had no recollection of licking and sticking, and a pile of cats on my chest. I reached for my phone only to discover a late-night conversation I had with someone (who had far more patience with me than he should have had, honestly) that was complete and total psychobabble. No idea what I was trying to say. No idea how the night ended (although I was soon informed and it wasn't my shining moment, that's for sure). No idea WHAT THE FUCK I was doing or thinking.

Needless to say I am no longer on one. You win, world. I had a good 2.5 month streak of craziness with almost zero breaks, but I'm ready to calm the fuck down for a while. I'm always way harder on myself than other people are on me, but I can't help it. I dooo nooot like feeling out of control.

Anyway, paint. I ended up going with Blacktop by Benjamin Moore, and even the lady mixing it said, "this is a REALLY nice black!" I agree. It's rich and it looks as fabulous as black paint can possibly look. I sent my room into that Apartment Therapy contest this afternoon, so we'll see if they decide I'm worthy of a post or any votes at all. I started feeling all mine-isn't-as-good-as-yours after submitting it and looking at everyone else's rooms, but then I had to remind myself that I have my own style, I should not try to be like everyone else. Junior in college high school lessons, re-learned haha. BE YOURSELF.


I'll post photos of the room after Apartment Therapy approves/denies my submission. Cause I didn't read the rules of the contest, but there's probably some rule that says they have first dibs on pictures. Who knows.

My Uncle died on Sunday morning. We weren't close and there's a lot of things about his life that I'm unclear on, but after so many years of not being well, I hope he's in a better place now.

And to you, if you read it, I know you think that I don't care, but that's not true and I'm glad we're doing a little bit better.

--

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The DIY, the Disneyland, the what-on-Earth-happened

Thursday I finally did what I've been meaning to do for weeks: take the top off of my massive solid wood coffee table and use it as a headboard. Turned out pretty fancy, you guys...it might even be Pinterest worthy. I'm planning on shooting my bedroom for a contest on Apartment Therapy soon, so that shitty Ikea bedframe had to GO.

I took Friday off and went to Disneyland. Another place I said I didn't care if I ever visited (Hi everyone that knows me, I'm sorry for being so stubborn all the time about everything to ever exist. I don't plan on stopping anytime soon, but you should all thank Cindy for being able to get me to do anything). So........magical. So magical. I think I reached what was undoubtedly an embarrassing level of excitement once we reached the part of the park where I could hug Winnie The Pooh. I kind of freaked out and forgot to take pictures anywhere else because I was too excited. I also bought a yeti hat, because fuck you that's why. Cindy's video of me sums up my reactions throughout the ENTIRE day (muted by default, ya gotta click the volume icon on the bottom left of the video):

These pictures were NOT taken with my camera because no one in their right mind should carry an SLR around Disneyland for 12 hours. So we're back to lousy iPhone quality for one post.

--

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The attraction

Pulp Fiction dance scene image from here

My knees have been weak.

They've been weak so many times. I've spent hours, days, months, years feeling as though I might lift right off the ground from the momentum that my heart creates. When it's not due to a person plucking just the right strings inside my head, it comes from something else. A great song, the month of May, Avery Maharaja, etc. I am never bored with my own self. I'll never need someone else to entertain me or keep me company or make me feel needed. For that, I am thankful; however, feeling as though I've been set on fire from human interaction is a different type of entertainment.

My whole life, I've only been interested in fascination. If it doesn't consume me, I don't want it. If I'll only be average at it, I won't do it. If I can't love it with my entire being, I won't love it. My standards for living and loving are sky high. I am a difficult person to get to know only only only when the wrong person tries to get to know me. Chemistry and passion in all things are so sought after in my life that sometimes I forget to keep my feet planted on the ground when I find them, even though I run around flailing my arms, ranting about how "realism is way smarter than optimism" and blahhh blah.

Because.

Because I create trouble for myself; I am really, really good at creating trouble for myself. I do it for my own entertainment because I know how it will end. I create trouble for myself and I become electrified. Every nerve, every hair, every blink, every thought.

I've got all the time in the world, really.

What else do any of us have? We only exist in this form for a minute. I prefer to spend my single minute feeling like I could float right up out of my chair, through this doorway and up into zero gravity, where I will sail freely with the thought of this human electricity always on my mind. If that means creating it rather than stumbling upon it, then that is precisely what will happen. I've learned so much about when to push and when to stand still.

When it works, when the electricity isn't just me playing games and I actually find myself in the rare situation where I simply cannot get close enough, literally or figuratively, I find something. I never know what the something is, but that's the moment that I find it.

I found it. And, of course, I have no idea what it is. Don't care.

--

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The pure bliss, the camera, the delightful coming-of-age story

I planned on putting a Valentine's Day post together with edited photos with illustrations and blahhh blah, and it would have been great except for the fact that if I did that, I would've exploded internally and smoke would've started billowing from my eye sockets. So instead, I got pasta and took a long break. Sans my editing/illustration, this is the only photo that was Valentines-y:

It is the most wonderfully infuriating feeling to know that I might get what I want if I can just be patient. I, of course, am the least patient person in the world, so this is convenient.

At some point this weekend I found myself somewhere new, complete with a wobbly trumpet serenade of the bridge of Dance Of The Reed Flutes from The Nutcracker. It was such a beautiful day that I collected my thangs, found a park near my apartment, and hung out on a little bridge with some ducks while I read and wrote and took photos. Sometimes the breeze just feels so good on my skin, ya know? The only reason I moved is because eventually some annoying family appeared with their small child and wanted to take 150 pictures on the bridge, which meant that someone had to make little squealing noises at the kid to make it smile before each photo could be taken, and I could feel a giant ragestorm brewing in my brain. So I put on Crazy On You by Heart and headed home.

Speaking of Heart, I was listening to them on my way to Mike's apartment on Saturday (rekindled my love affair with them recently) when a homeless man approached me and said, "I can hear yo music, I can hear yo music" and when I laughed, he asked me what I was listening to. I replied with "Heart" and he said, "HEART?!" with a look of ABSOLUTE disgust. YOU CAN'T PLEASE EVERYONE, YOU GUYS

Sunday afternoon, while recapping an even-stranger-than-usual night/morning, Cindy and I decided that we might have a slightly odd friendship (only due to the things that we're fine with, which sounds weird but it's the only way I can safely explain it), but seriously, WHAT did I do before she came along? It's pretty important to be able to do strange shit together and not have to worry that one of us is going to end up offended or crying in a chair in the corner of the room (bahahahaaaaaa). More than anything, I think I've really needed someone that can keep up with me/someone that will let me keep up with them without making me feel pressured to do so.

I bought a Canon t3i becaaauuuuse why not? I have a blog and there should be photos on this blog that aren't lousy. There's only so much Photoshop can do with iPhone photos. I have a lot to learn but I'm getting the hang of it. My photography tutor won't let me put anything on Auto (hate that shit anyway, if I'm gonna pay 700 dollars for a camera I had better know it inside and out) so there's a lot of trial and error happening in my life right now.

And I'm not just talking about the camera.

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The stupid, the moonshine, the Star Me Kitten

When I do bad things, I can't be mad when the bad things come right around and kick me in the ass. That IS the downside of doing whatever the fuck I please, and I don't need anyone to remind me of that. At this point, I'm just happy to have a partner in crime and a taste of what I want.

I originally took an interest in William S. Burroughs because of a song he did: a remake of REM's Star Me Kitten that for some reason shook something up inside of me, even at 11 years old which was when I first heard it. It was on the soundtrack that was created for the first few seasons of The X-Files (you know meeee) and at first I couldn't listen to it; his voice freaked me out, but I quickly fell in love with it. Something about the laziness of the song paired with his voice sounds like an emotion I often feel but have always struggled to explain properly or really understand.

image found here

I usually feel inspired by people only when they're somewhat fucked up; there is no use trying to light a fire under my ass by showing me inspirational TED talks and presidential inauguration speeches, that's for sure. There is a very specific breed of human beings that I draw energy and ideas from, and they must be artists. Burroughs was messed up, and most of the people he associated with were/are messed up too. I wish more than anything that I could see The Black Rider, which is a musical he helped create with Tom Waits and Robert Wilson. CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE? Read the synopsis. It sounds great.

It makes me wonder why I usually feel so happy in an everything-is-just-so-cheery-and-bright-and-everything-has-flowers-on-it kinda way.

It appears that my creative inspiration has shifted from being visual to being musical, which is terribly inconvenient because now I am just a web designer with no design ideas. But I could make playlists for DAYS.



Have you ever had moonshine? It's not so bad.

It's not so good either.

It's really interesting to be on the receiving end of other people's flash decisions. It's a good thing I'm cool as a cucumber. Certainly couldn't have said that about myself a few years ago. PROGRESS

--

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Another human interest story

I love this Niagara Detroit giclee.

The music I listen to is different lately. I never got into punk and I always hated The Pretenders (maybe I just hated I'll Stand By You? The chord progressions in that song make me GAG), but I suddenly started listening to them and fell in love with this song, among others. I started listening to Butthole Surfers and a song called Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues by Fight Like Apes. I started listening the The Velvet Underground and Patti Smith and more Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds and I feel really grateful for music that isn't constantly about love and sunshine and rainbows because it's so much more interesting. Melodies are more complex, chords are more dissonant. I love that kinda stuff even when it has nothing to do with my mindset. I want to be impressed and wonder how they thought of such complex stuff in a song.

The concept of always being decently happy is fucking weird, you guys. Why shouldn't we want to feel everything that there is to feel? I might get pissed off or annoyed or sad, and I might be pretty hard to deal with when I am feeling those things, but let me be very clear: when I am happy I am GLOWING from it because I genuinely appreciate it. I am noticing the tiniest things and seeing everything with rose colored glasses and smiling to myself on the bus and feeling so much love while I watch a homeless man and an elderly man talk about philosophy and marbles and guitars (all in one conversation!) and I feel weightless. If you can feel that same sense of euphoria all the time, more power to you. I'm sincerely jealous. Buuuuut when I think about the people that are "happy all the time" as they put it, they usually just seem boring and desensitized, and I don't believe them. Boring isn't happy. Boring is boring.

I will always want to be fascinated, no matter how emotional I have to get and how hard I have to work to experience it.

I think I've finally met my quarter-life crisis? Haha except within me it has become something resembling a personal renaissance. Feels just fine, I must say.

Oooooooookkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk, give me your opinions because I'm sure everyone has some.

Uganda, NYC, Feeeeelings

I'm a big fan of Pope Saint Victor's illustration work, but I think I may have fallen even more in love with the photos from his trip to Uganda. I'm posting some of my favorites below. I've always loved the steamy, lush look of photos taken in Africa and South America.

I feel blah lately. I think it's just a case of the Octobers - I always feel down in the fall. It used to happen because summer would end and I'd be going back to school (and for Buffalo it usually meant the first snow), but even here in LA with no school/blizzards to be tortured with, the feeling is still there. There's a lot of stuff happening in my life that I can't discuss out of respect for others (learned that lesson the hard way! woooooooo), even though I know so many of you beautiful people would have valuable advice and ideas. I'm just a bit weighed down with other people's thangs.

I still find myself editing what I write because of the awful people at my first full-time job. I couldn't say anything that was less than happy - and I STILL find myself thinking that they're going to read this and think, "Hanna is pouting," so I purposely put a positive spin on my life, even when I'm not really feeling it. I can't freaking believe I still do that without thinking. What's even funnier is that I do almost always feel happy and enthusiastic about life! But when I don't, writing about it is something that I'm allowed to do. There are so many things that people do in this world that are detrimental to others or just totally fucking stupid. Writing, tactfully of course, is neither of those. Me expressing a negative feeling in a healthy way like writing is nowhere near as detrimental as me being obligated to surpress every emotion that isn't positive. Honesty about emotion is rare. I intend to speak honestly here in my own little space. If I can't do that, what's the point of writing at all? Silly me for spinning my own life. It doesn't align with my personal brand lol.

Please promise me that you'll always be honest with yourselves, my loves. And I mean really fucking honest. It's critical to your own well-being no matter how scary it is. Your life will be so much richer because of it. At the end of my life, I'm going to be proud of myself for always wearing my heart on my sleeve, even when people don't like it. Even when I don't like it! My life is the only thing I've got and I want to feel everything - even the sad stuff.

Brady and I are flying to NY tonight to see my cousin Audrey get MARRIED this weekend! The last time I saw her was at my Grandma's funeral, so it will be MOST wonderful to hug her under much happier circumstances. She told me wayyy back in 2008 that it was the Real Deal and I believed her; I could just see it in her eyes. I'm excited to be in NYC again too! There is nothing like New York City in the fall :) Or in the winter. Or in the summer. Or in the spring...

Anyway, photos! Photos, Hanna.

View all the pics here, and go like Pope Saint Victor on Facebook!

New Designers.MX playlist comin' atcha in the next post :)

Fresh Air

I got a lot of much-needed fresh air this weekend at my parents' house in Franklinville. It might be half-full of rednecks, but I'm forever convinced that there is no town more beautiful. I danced with my favorite people and ate a lot of chicken wings and hugged my parents and I feel refreshed, even though the trip was short and somewhat strange.

There was a woman on the bus this morning that looked so much like Michelle Obama that I had to do a double take. She sat down with her iPod and got so into the music that she couldn't help dancing around and shaking her head a little bit, and her energy was so contagious that I found myself smiling at my own music. PLUS, I woke up an hour early this morning for no reason (still on NY time I think, I love that! It's just different enough to make getting up early really easy) and took my time getting ready so I was already in a great mood by the time I left my apartment. GOOD MORNING!

Here's a question that I would love your thoughts on: how long should we make someone's else's pain our own before we just have to suck it up and move on with our own lives? It's terribly detrimental to a mind/heart/soul to be filled with worry all the time, but it's impossible to stop wishing that the people we love are OK. I just don't know.

EDIT 4:19PM: I cannot freaking stop laughing at this.

Here is Franklinville: