Fisherman and Flying

Our team was talking about how we all talk like one another nowadays.

And what they picked up from me?

The hand motions. The tongue clicking. The knuckle knocking. The snapping. The putting hands together in peace, and pushing one hand forward for progress. Move this conversation along with our body language.

A good third of my team is Italian and from the East Coast, strangely. And George always says I remind him exactly how how his super Italian East Coast mom talks.

“I just can’t believe you’re not from the East Coast, Annie.”

All the Italian hand movements.

It makes sense. Spoken word has always been super hard for me. So I write and I move my hands a lot.


Fearless. Not walking on eggshells, but moving confidently forward using all the words I want.

And all the absence of words that I want.

I am flying there.

And I am fearless.

I am full of fears, but I am not letting it lead me.

I am growing strong.

I am buying an mp3 player online.

This weekend and last weekend in San Francisco. A short piece.

Never travel with others. Always travel alone and do own thing. Uninhibited.

Meet people at hostels if lonely.

Practice makes confidence.

The underground. The counterculture. The books. Explore San Francisco cafes.

“What is that?”

Riding the bus— lost in the faces of the people. Voices of Chinatown. The honking of cars and buses. The buses on the wire line being pulled along the city.

My dream. Every weekend for me and my center.

This is where I wanted to be.

“But for a writer. The truth is no big deal.”

“No you won’t, revisit. That dirty compromise.” -Deb Talan

WRITE all weekend. Fill this notebook. Go back every weekend.

I’m a writer, not a worker. Writers can have neurotic anxiety and still be respected and loved. Let me struggle with my jobs– they are not my life. My life is my unofficial job– the age old job of scribbling down information in whatever way that pleases me or lessens my anxiety.

I am a writer. I need to be easy on myself when I don’t perform with the rest of the world. My life is behind the scenes. My life is in the quiet of the chaos. Make it work. Never the best work, but do what I need to get by and travel and learn. It’s my writing, not my image of “agreeability” and complacency that I’m worried about. Actually, the exact opposite. Remember that. x

“Annie doesn’t give a FUCK.” zero fucks, and they still bring me in like family. love me more for being moody, aloof, antisocial and in my own head. They’re true friends, true family, no matter how different we are from one another.

My change contribution? Live it daily, and write it.


“Slow down everyone, you’re moving too fast.”

So weird. Crossing the HWY across the ocean. Not on the bridge yet, just on the highway at sea level. Just ten feet or so above it. Feels like a high tide could easily sweep over us.

Seeing dopplegangers of important people from through out my life. Or they might really be those people, Who really knows. Learn something about myself and loving lifeeee and making it mine.

Can only really See when alone. Such a present person, need to get away from commitment, obligations, aquaintances and those who expect certain behavior from me to notice the world outside of me.


Walking down to the Golden Gate bridge– two hippie boys holding hands. I avert y eyes when I notice this, but then, decide to look back. Wonder if they get people averting their eyes a lot. Look at them in the eye, and they’re looking at me, ready to smile. And we all share the biggest smile. Love is love. : )


Should always take a look at whoever intrigues me, I probably intrigue them in some way, too.

Can’t lose, can just live.

Adorable man walking on the beach in front of me. Make eye contact as I’m staring out at the water.

I made it. x

“Waiting for a chance to come, and no one’s gonna get in my way. Gonna figure it out for myself. Because I don’t need nothing, I’m just waiting for my chance to come.”

Huge cranes flying over and floating in the water.

Fog horns.

Feeling more myself lately with this time off. Feeling like I can handle this- handle what I want to at least.

And everything that doesn’t fit into that tell them to fuck off.

“Feels like my new life can start.Feels like heaven”

Key: empowered.

Empower self and those around you. Greatest you can feel/do/be.


Write. LIfe like it’s your life, and your life alone.

Travel solo to the places I’m comfortable and intrigued with. North Beach hostel perfect example. Vibe it out, research, try and try again, and then go with the flow.


My jayhawk pants.


Just want to write on paper. Love this. Sand all over. Leather jacket, book, purse, scarf, water bottle covered in sand. Slip a handful of warm sand in my purse pocket on impulse.

A girl with a UNISEX t-shirt.

“Wherever you are, you are.”



what inspires me? do it. what inspires you? do it. fucking do it.


throw everything away. nothing to distract self from purpose. empty expanse to create in. every fucking moment.


minimalist in physical possessions as well as in MIND. clear out the worries, cross off the to do lists. make room for art and presence and love and wisdom.


realized: my anxiety is what makes things happen. my depression in earlier years made me push further and find something else.

My anxiety/ocd/depression is everything I’ve ever needed to become exactly who I want to become. Just have to use it all as a tool, not a harm. The way my mind works forces me to never settle, to make things happen, to never be able to say that this is good enough. I’m always going to be on the prowl. I’m always going to be out in the world wanting to write it. Thank you, neurosis. Look at you. Fuck, yeah. Embrace what frustrates you about yourself. Make it the best thing about you. Never want to cure my anxiety, just want to learn to channel its power for positivity.


not at all lost, i’m wandering. i’m the closest to where i need to be than i’ve ever been.

Finding myself. Feel it every weekend more clear. Been gone three weekends in a row, now and feel like a different person. Have to leave every weekend I’ve got left, still.

Sleepy drive into Deer Creek again. Vineyards, hills, ranches.


Drive through a mini lake at the bottom of a hill with the van. Woman and her car stuck on the other side of it. Fred has no patience for her. “She was probably doing drugs out here or something. Those young kids.” Informs us he has checked in on her, and left her to figure it out herself.

Talking to Fred as the cattle are loading. So noisey and sad. Move.


+write “million different people, one day to the next”

+activist “strong follow my flow and opinions and truth center”

Carinne and I bonding a lot lately. Really are similar people, have the same love of the magic of life. And creating in the moment, and feeling the people around us. Both love the movie “I Heart Huckabees.” I think the reason Carinne and I have so much tension sometimes is because we are so similar, as I said before. And we’re both a little bit of control freaks, around certain issues. So there’s a little bit of a leadership struggle that we try to balance, and usually do a good job of it. Or at least manage it. And then there are days like we had this week– where we plant trees all day together, talk about everything in our lives, and tell each other more than either of us have told anyone else out here. And just keep going. When we get going, we talk for like 6+ hours straight, no pause. It’s almost exhausting, if it didn’t amp us up so much. We get so excited, and revolutionary and free.

When we love each other, we really love each other. And I realize, the more time I take to mylself, the more I enjoy Carinne. And everyone, for that matter. Falling in love with everyone again. Because I’ve got this sanctuary of San Francisco. No argument, I should keep spending the money to come here. It’s worth it, just so that I can enjoy the people around me more. And better deal with the challenges that come up.


Our new team song: Come Sail Away. “I’m sailing away… because I’ve got to be free. Free to face the life, that’s ahead of me. And I’ll try, oh lord I’ll try, to carry on.” We heard the song on the radio after we found out about Alaska, and we all started doing the wave in the van, and really felt it. All got goosebumps. So cheesy and so great. The definition of the people I live with. x

“He’s not very effective. But he’s interesting to look at.” -comments on our little brother teammate.

own culture. cultivate it.

ART REvolution. Presence.

“We’ll search for tomorrow, on every shore.”

“But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.” -Junot Diaz


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