Names are important.
Hi! My name is “Annemarie”. No hyphen, no space, no capital. Annemarie.
I was named after my maternal grandmother, “Anne”, and my paternal grandmother, Marie.
We’ll get to the quotations in a moment.
My maternal grandmother, “Anne”, experienced the loss of her own mother when she was only 11.
She was the youngest of three and as the only remaining female in the home, was put in charge of raising her father and two older brothers.
“Anne” had five children of her own, never had a career, and went to bed at 5pm whilst her husband was working 2 jobs to support the brood.
Her children, including my own mother, would make dinner and serve her sandwiches in bed.
She, in my opinion, did not want children.
It was discovered when she was in her 80s, that her given name was Anna and preferred the less Eastern European (read “Pollack”) Anne.
As such, she chose to be called Anne.
My paternal grandmother, Marie, had six children and was committed to a mental institution twice (from my count but of course, it is still not openly spoken of with my father even after what you are about to read) for what is now understood to have been postpartum depression.
She died in her 60s of colon cancer that was advanced enough once discovered, to lead to multiple surgeries wherein parts of her lower intestine were removed.
But hey, at least they caught the crazy right?
Her youngest son, and my father’s closest brother, was diagnosed as bi-polar or “manic depressive” and sadly took his own life in his 40s.
To my knowledge, she chose to be called Marie her entire life.
Now it comes to my early days as “Annemarie”.
I was in first grade and my magnificent teacher (all are magnificent in their own way but she was truly amazing) Ms. Bjornsen – nicknamed me Annie.
And it stuck.
I have been more Annie than I have ever been “Annemarie”.
And yet…. I’ve known since I was young, a pre-teen, that I did not want children. I was able to choose that path, unlike “Anne” or Marie.
Coincidentally, my middle name is Julia.
Same as my mother and her mother before her.
I wish it was my first name.
I wish my nickname was “Jules”.
That is what my husband calls me, affectionately.
So we come to it. When I eat my own words and revise.
Names are not important.
They are all encompassing and also so fleeting as to not matter.
I hope you like yours and that if you don’t, you claim one you do.
I hope that the world spells it fucking right.
Category: Uncategorized
Day Ones
Seriously, how many of these things do we get in our lifetime? First day of school, a new job, marriage, pregnancy (blech! this is a hard pass for me). Day one of a new diet, a new workout routine, blah, blah, blah, blah blah.
*this draft was saved on 8/12/2015. Funny how five years (fucking brilliant song) and 4 days later… I find myself starting anew here. Might as well post this little blip of a blog entry.
The first night on the waterfront.
My love and I moved to New York today. Well, moved is a strong word. What we did was quit our sh*tty jobs that made us miserable, joined some housesitting websites, and have now begun a journey to figure out what we want out of life. For ourselves and each other. We have never really had this opportunity before. We are extremely lucky to have it now – and we totally get that. We set out early (like 430), drove for 11 hours and found ourselves ready to settle into an apartment for the next 29 days. We cannot wait to set out into the city, and discover it together.
Day Thirty Seven
This is the day…Kentucky Derby Day! Also known as drag yourself to a derby party to watch the big race and eat lots and drink even more day. It was a good day. A day spent with friends and family. Still – it was day that further solidified our decision to sell all of our stuff and move far, far away. Today was the first time we (somewhat) openly talked about moving and it went surprisingly well. The reactions were of genuine interest and even though it sometimes feels like people just nod their heads and say “oh cool” no matter what they are actually thinking – and I’m okay with that.
The reactions resolved me to tell my closest friends when I see them in the next couple of weeks. I’m nervous – but it needs to happen.
Day Thirty Three
Today was a Pearl Jam Ten listening, Hemingway brooding, spending-too-much-time-inside-my-own-head kind of day.
So today will be the first day I use the words of another to describe exactly what my day was and what the hell was going on inside of it.
sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
were laid spread out before me as her body once did.
all of five horizons revolved around her soul as the earth to the sun
now the air i tasted and breathed has taken a turn
ooh, and all i taught her was everything
ooh, i know she gave me all that she was
and now my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds of what was everything.
oh, the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything
i take a walk outside, i’m surrounded by some kids at play
i can feel their laughter, so why do i sear?
oh, and twisted thoughts that spin round my head, i’m spinning, oh,
i’m spinning, how quick the sun can drop away
and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass of what was everything
all the pictures have all been washed in black, tattooed everything
all the love gone bad turned my world to black
tattooed all i see, all that i am, all i’ll be
i know someday you’ll have a beautiful life,
i know you’ll be a sun in somebody else’s sky,
but why, why, why can’t it be, can’t it be mine?
black – pearl jam
jesus, don’t want me for a sunbeam
sunbeams are not made like medon’t expect me to cry
for all the reasons you had to die
don’t ever ask your love of medon’t expect me to cry
don’t expect me to lie
don’t expect me to die for theejesus doesn’t want me for a sunbeam – the vaselines
Day Thirty Two
I am a bit at a loss today.
For starters, I had a productive day, I got a lot done. One thing to know about me is that I am a major to do list person. I love crossing stuff off and if I do something that’s not on the list you ask? Well, I write it on the list then cross it off. And don’t give me sh!t about it, I mean the blog is called a fistful of crazy. You knew what you were getting into. Despite all that I got done – it feels like all I did was kind of daydream the day away. Normally I get kind of pissed if I daydream too much because it doesn’t accomplish anything tangible. Today, however, I feel okay with the time I spent envisioning my love and I being somewhere else. It makes me feel hopeful and creative. I know – I’m so effing weird.
So today I had a shopping/errand trip with my mom. And for the first time in a very long time – it went well. Now typically it goes “well”, but I tend to just get through it and stew about all the little hurtful comments, the snide side remarks, the innuendoes that I am not living up to her standards or preferences. Today, well today was different. Now don’t go jumping the gun – there were plenty of opportunities for the snide remarks, the innuendoes, the back handed compliments – but either I was able to ignore them or there just were not as many as usual.
I actually think I was just able to hear them differently.
I feel as though these past weeks have brought about some revelations. Realizations about many of my relationships, how I have always viewed them, how right or wrong I have been in doing so, what and who I am to myself and those around me and the weight I put in other people’s opinions. Super broad subjects, I know. But speaking specifically is a little more open and personal than I can get right now. I’d need a whole lot of alcohol and time on my hands for that. For now, sufficed to say, that whatever I heard today from my mom – at the end of our few hours together, I actually felt like she just wanted me to be happy. Just to be happy but sometimes on her terms and in her way. And while I think the qualification is something that I do not agree with – something I do not like (to place on my wishes for loved one’s happiness, nor to be placed on their wishes for my happiness) – it still comes down to her wanting me to be happy and successful. To be the best person I can be, and even if she doesn’t get a lot of my choices, doesn’t agree with my getting a back tattoo, doesn’t like that I was not married in the Catholic church, she still wants me to happy and have love and be loved.
And she loves me. And that means a lot. It means that I am finally getting through the bs, not being so cynical all the time, and accepting that I am loved. I am worthy of love and I need to start loving myself. Because if someone as crazy and strong and giving and smart as my mom loves me for who I am then I need to too. And if my lovely husband can love me, then I can too.
Wow, I am really starting to sound like a crazy yoga chick. Whatever. It’s all about the love man.
the greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return – eden ahbez
Day Thirty
Today I will be celebrating another birthday. I will also be attempting to avoid seeing Frozen for the first time. I don’t want to see it. I love Disney movies, especially all the princess movies – but for some reason I want to go to the grave having never seen Frozen. Same with the Biebs – I want to go to the grave being able to say I have never heard a Justin Bieber song from start to finish – clips sure – but never a whole song. I feel like this will lend a certain distinction and credibility to my life that few others can claim.
It is a beautiful day outside today. I am hungover however – please see yesterday’s post for further explanation – and for the first time on a nice day, all I want to do is take a nap. So I think I will.
afistfulofcrazy 