first journal entry post-south africa. i don't have enough poetry in the entirety of my body or lifetime to describe the perfection that was my life for the past 6 months. exaggerated much? not at all. and this is how it ended (because it's easier to paint sadness, it's easier to say my boyfriend is a 28 hour flight away rather than to say a 10 minute phone call every morning gives me strength to face the days): me standing in the middle of an empty airport with a bouquet of dead roses, last call announcements blaring over the speakers, trying to fight back the tears and toss three suitcases over my shoulder at the same time, finally giving up the fight, involuntarily dropping the bags and using my hand to muffle the loudest sobs a small girl can muster, with only the cleaning lady standing five feet away from me to witness the metaphoric death of the happiest girl in the world.

i can even pinpoint my happiest day. the day i rode horses with him through the mountains, past the waterfalls, and into the most beautiful sunset i've ever seen. exaggerated much? not a chance.


pretty words and pictures fail to describe the change, so i'll put it plainly: i'm new. a happier new.

i'm taking a break from investigating the world wide web of organ trafficking to tell you all how alive i am. i'm alive enough to be turning papers in a week late and that's surprisingly invigorating.

since i last talked to you i've been traversing the world of southern africa. i cried at the apartheid museum in johannesburg and then played a game of tag in the botanical gardens. i slept in fear of being eaten by the leopards that stalked our campsite in kruger park. i went drinking in the only club in a small town in Botswana with a beautiful Tswana bartender named Lebo, whose friends laughed, pointed and challenged me to dance offs the second i started to move to the music: "white girl can dance." i'm armenian, i explain, but that never works. i saw victoria falls in zambia, got drenched in its waters and took a cruise down the zambezi river at sunset. i danced with a beautiful zambian boy all night and told him i'd meet him for lunch the next day. instead, i took a walk in the bush with elephants and fed them food from my hand.

( ^ all in one week )

and yet the best part of spring break was drinking and smoking with my mom til all hours of the night.

it's winter here now and the rain falls down horizontally. in a month all my best friends will be leaving. in a month i'm renting a car and going to lesotho. i'll meet his family and friends, explore his country and leave with a broken heart. it's been a trip.

we call ourselves team great.



this is day three of being in cape town and team great hasn't yet grown to its full size. this is also the only picture of us i own. so until i get my act together, it'll have to do.

[p.s. when i said i was falling in ____, what i really meant to say was that i'm actually really happy. when i said i'd be okay with never going back home, what i really meant to say was that it was 2 in the afternoon and i had just gotten back from a quick visit to the pub. what i really mean to say is that i miss my kids from home and i'd never want you to think otherwise.]

They say that Cape Town is Africa's version of Los Angeles. I'm not sure who "they" are but I'm pretty sure they know what they're talking about. It's an interesting existence. We visit Nelson Mandela's jail cell and play with refugee children by day and are out shooting shooters on Long street by night. The disparity between the rich and poor is the biggest complaint people have about L.A. Cape Town has us beat. The white South Africans call townships "informal settlements." Everywhere anyone hears your accent, they expect you to be a millionaire. I've been pretty good with not dishing out money like I actually have it except when little boys hold out their empty hands on Long St. (read: club street, read: drunkety drunk Anna).

I've been on a strict no meat diet since I got off that plane. I walk at least 3 miles a day. All the African boys I dance with tell me I shake like a black girl which, here, is the best compliment I'd hope to get. I'm going by the Armenian pronunciation of my name and you'd be surprised how many people just can't get it right. And all of these things combined make me a generally happier person.

I miss my boys, but I'm enjoying the fact that my friend base here is made up of darling girls. Andrea lived on my same floor freshman year and knows my roommate, but we never met. We've been dubbed the drinkers of the group and I think we decided over cigarettes that we're okay with that. If you're going to get wet, she says...

There are certain rules here that I just can't get used to. Don't walk anywhere alone, don't smile at strangers, don't hook up with your gorgeous flatmate from Lesotho no matter how soft his skin. I swoon over some boy or another at least twice a day because, generally, everyone here is gorgeous. This might be the part of culture shock where we were told everything in your host country just feels like it's better than anything at home. It's supposed to be a phase, but I think I'm fine with holding onto this feeling for a long time.

i'm alive. i'm in south africa. i have tonsillitis. it hurts to drink water. i haven't eaten or slept in 3 days. and, basically, i want to kill myself.

but, you know, on the upside, capetown is beautiful. south african boys are pretty much all winners in my book. i'm being diligently taken care of by girls i've only known for a day. and once this difficulty breathing thing ends, things can only get better.

tomorrow my brother and i officially become citizens. (huh? i thought i already was one? isn't that why i got to vote...?) the true test for whether or not we're ready for that kind of commitment is basically trivia about the history and government of the country. to refresh mr. high school drop out of some of these fundamentals, i got these priceless answers from him based on an example test:

how many supreme court justices are there?
- 500
who did the US fight in the revolutionary war?
- the french
what does the first amendment say?
- thou shalt not steal
why did the pilgrims come to America?
- for thanksgiving




i blame the school systems. and heroin.


(7 days til i fly...)

cape town, zanzibar, morocco, victoria falls, nairobi, namibia, mozambique, botswana. these are only a few of the places i'll be as soon as next monday rolls around. i'm doing them all solo-style, too, cause, you know, that's how i roll. if the pictures look that good, imagine the real-lifed-ness of it. you can only drive so many people to airports without getting antsy about your own departure. i'm looking forward to the send off. one wave is all i'm giving. after that, i'm not looking back for at least 6 months. (i like acting like a tough guy, but the truth is i'll be thinking of you all daily. at least.) things are getting awfully messy around here and i couldn't have picked a better time to pack up and go. it's this kind of new start in a new place with a once in a lifetime opportunity thing that really gets a girl's heart rate up. i'm smoking more cigarettes than ever to compensate. i'm cooking for the first time in my life, which gives my parents the strange feeling of having a real armenian daughter around the house. my feet ache from 8 on-your-feet-all-day hour workdays. i'm running "lost" marathons that make me wonder if a 22 hour flight for a girl terrified of flying is worse than choosing to live in the center of naturey goodness for a girl terrified of death inducing things hiding behind shrubbery. but, you know, south african accents are said to be romantic and who couldn't use a little bit of that in their beds lives?

all i really want is to sit for days and have intellectual conversations with noam chomsky, edward said and sally slocum while i drink my tea and ponder imperialism, colonialism, and feminist perspectives in anthropology. i think this is what school is supposed to do to you? why did that take so long?

i saw exactly who i'm going to be in five years, and my god, i'm excited.

new york pictures coming soon, i swear it.

the story, in short.

10:45 p.m. - a phone call goes like this:
"anna, meet me in t.j. (mexico!)"
"that's absurd, i'm hanging up on you now."
fin.

10:47 p.m. - call back
"so. how do we get to mexico?"

other important numbers of this night/weekend, because numbers make the greatness, and believe me, there was greatness.
2: the number of dogs bigger than a whole anna who chased her around a mansion because she does what we all would do when seeing 2 anna sized dogs - run screaming.
90: the speed i was driving when i got my two hundred (200) dollar speeding ticket.
3: the number of cops (internationally!) that pulled me over.
45: the number of minutes it took to navigate out of mexico when we unintentionally crossed the border.
1: the number of driver's licenses (mine) stolen by the mexican police.
25: the number of cigarettes smoked in two countries.
7: the number of times we listened to my arabic cd on repeat.
5: the number of hours needed (and spent!) in a spa to recuperate.
0: the number of weekends that have outdone this one in my young adult life.

that damn cigarette holder and those damn fancy shoes really make a girl feel at home in her flapper dress and pale pasty skin. and you know, i think good times were had, and you know, i think i bought enough fancy cheese to go with your champagne and jelly beans to guarantee that they did. and i know this livejournal of mine has really come to be a photojournal of my debauchery, but i'm thinking that's what twenty years old calls for.
( holly golightly (sans the racism and homophobia) would be proud. are you? )

us this saturday night at higgins building: 108 w. 2nd st. #913 in LA


you this saturday night if you're NOT at higgins building: 108 w. 2nd st. #913 in LA


if the expensive drinks, skin bearing beauties and downtown view don't charm the pants right off of you, your two hostesses will.

last weekend:


this november:


next february-july:

and

when i was still in the single digit age range, school taught me that repeating something thirteen times in your head was the surefire way to enshrine things in your permanent memory. i repeated the thirteen times rule in my head thirteen times to test it out. i think it's scientifically sound enough now to say that it worked. i was a smart kid back then, so i'm taking a cue from myself. i repeated the hurtful things i like to let myself forget thirteen times in my head tonight and then did it again, just to be safe. i'm not as smart as i used to be though, and i think this might be cause for concern.

i remembered someone telling me a couple years ago that once film school got through with me i'd be a smoker. really, what did they know? i told them i had a little more will power than they gave me credit for. but my hands reek of cigarettes and i'm thinking i've been giving myself too much credit lately.

i need south africa. i gave myself too much credit and didn't even consider the very real possibility of south africa not wanting me. there's no want about it anymore, i need need need it. 6 months away from here and this and them and that. i need to stop falling asleep in my clothes every night. i need to stop rejecting the nicest boys because they're too nice. i need to start writing a good movie, or making the bad one better. i bet single digit anna would have no problem with any of it. she was a far better person. but i mostly trust science, so if i repeat it all thirteen times, maybe i can be like her again.

the only thing that's been happening so far is mike's movie. ( stills )

you've probably never seen so many pictures. i've probably never had so much fun. you'll probably think i'm bragging, but i'm probably a pretty ok cinematographer. and maybe i got a deliciously wonderful manual digital camera for my birthday, but really, all i think i want to say is that i've lived up to my promises of a great year so far. if south africa doesn't happen...well i haven't thought that far ahead. i'm not ready for this semester to stop being wonderful yet.

[being 20 feels like 19, but far less charming.]



( scenes from the death of the teen ages. )

notice! to the 2, 3 and, on a good day, 4 of you who have my number and call it occasionally: my phone is now permanently disconnected. i'm not ignoring you unless i am. i'm really enjoying being virtually unreachable. and i'm completely disregarding the lameness of the fact that my only means of communication with you 2, 3 or 4 people is through livejournal.

in other news, i've been so deliciously happy these past few days that i actually like hanging out with myself. you should try it. it's a blast.