For a moment, a breath-taking moment, my heart is empty
A void fills it that could heal my eternity
Then it opens up and the waves of love wash in
Sending me back down to the those depths again
Where the seas of love wash over me unseen
Whispering of love, but not like they mean
When they ask of my love and vows I will make
My heart still too empty to that step take
So should you desire my heart, my love, my hand
Your task is to make my heart understand

Just felt like starting this month with a rhyme. After all, Annabella is the IMPress of the Rhymers. People need to have more wild fun on the MUD. We'll get to working on that more avidly after the great move. The great move should happen sometime soon. Otherwise, I'll just have to control great urges to build like a wild woman.

I haven't done anything noteworthy today. I know that is a horrible shock to you. I need more people to post their thoughts. My guest book has been rather lonely as of late. Besides, don't you all want to help me make life-altering decisions. Anyway, I should sleep some day. Night.

"Men respond to junk: Some men respond to junk mail. Some men respond to junk food. All men respond to being kicked in the junk." That is my quote for the day. It makes me giggle, but the boys won't like it.

The world was rocked today by my abnormal actions. I have never claimed to be normal, and I gave up trying to fit in a long time ago. Today, however, I almost fit in with the rest of the party animals here on campus. After taking a brisk walk to the Daily Grind (no, it is not a dentist's office, just a place to buy yummy foods), Miss Kewl and I were standing outside the library enjoying our morning pick-me-ups, when a friend of ours approached us with an odd look on his face.

At first, we didn't quite get it but then we looked down. In our hands we were holding what appeared to be two non-Mormon beverages. She was holding an Italian steamer (steamed milk with flavored syrup) in a paper, coffee cup, and standing next to the famous Bella who was holding a bottle of beer--root beer that is. After careful inspection, he realized that we really were not drinking vile chemicals, so he walked away "satisfied". His Big Red shirt was advertising guaranteed satisfaction, so I guess it all adds up.

In discussing my top ten lists as compared to those on late night television, I got another quote: "Those get their humor from presentation. Mine are better because they can be read by any sock puppet and be funny." Maybe I should exhibit this with another great top ten list. Of course, before you read it, you have to go make a sock puppet, name the puppet, give it a voice, and then you can let it read the list to prove my point.

It was another lovely day in my world. I got up and went to church. I spent time with my friends. I hung out with my cats. I read a little and even got to go out and use my roller blades. That means they are no longer covered by cobwebs. More importantly, there are about ten things I want to get off of my brain. (I hope you still have your sock puppet.)

TOP TEN THINGS YOU MIGHT HEAR FROM A HOBBIT ON SKATES

10. "It's good being short. I have less distance to fall."
9. "What do you mean, 'Watch out for that tree limb.'? It's still a foot above my head."
8. "Why did you convince me to put these things on my big, hairy feet?"
7. "Whee. Eeep. Tree."
6. "Yes, I grew four inches when I put these on."
5. "Wow, there is more to an elf than a belly button."
4. "Imagine how fast Frodo could have gone on these things with a paved road into Mordor."
3. "I'm glad I ate that second helping of second breakfast, it'll give me enough energy to get these things off my feet."
2. "Whee, I love falling. I bounce."
1. "Save me, save me. My feet can't breathe."

So I am moving from one hobbit hole to another. Who better to help me with this than my co-hobbit. He also happens to be quite buff, which I would prove to you, but he has not sent me the picture he promised yet. He probably figured out that it was going to be splashed across my sexy stud page. That would be linked from my harem page. Ah, so many ways to be a sexy stud and so few people believe me when I tell them they are wonderful. Oh well, they'd probably assume that they had my undying love and run screaming. So many men do that when faced with the Goddess of Love (which is a moniker given to me by someone else).

Anyway, I also enlisted the help of a long-haired Motocross racer, a ravishing red-head, and a music enthusiast (he left early to go play his violin). This means he missed me chucking a chair down the stairs. I recommend you don't ask about that one (I have more hang-ups than a telemarketer). I am sure my landlord will fish the chair out of the garbage and drool on it if he happens by. He's a bigger garbage digger than me. *shrugs* I didn't think such a thing was possible, but amazingly it is.

Not much else has happened besides me crawling around on the floor scrubbing up mud. Not MUD. MUD is cool. Mud in ones carpet is bad--very bad. Anyway, I better get some sleep while I can. Have a sweet one.

I am still moving stuff around. My cats are still reigning in the old apartment, so I spend my nights here. I am thinking about starting a new career as a furniture assembler. I have put together a lot of it recently. You never know how much stuff you have until you move it.

I need to find another me to pawn some of this stuff off on. I am way too sentimental. I just know I am going to find something that I can identify as the first cardboard box my cat ever nibbled on hiding somewhere. If so, I'll have it bronzed. They can put it in a very sturdy glass case at the loony bin for me. The rooms on my floor are filling up fast, so put in a claim now. *wink* Some of you know what I am talking about. Anyway, I better get back to packing and moving so I can get down to enjoying my new home.

Well, I am mostly moved. Tomorrow I am going to be an overly nice tenant and go scrub my old apartment. My new room is huge. This is good because the one wall looks like a combination library and junk store for all your odd, little old lady needs. I swear that people give me this stuff. I am not quite a little old lady yet. I just have an old soul.

My new front yard looks more like a marsh or a bog than a yard. It may deter my cats from running rampantly through the neighborhood terrorizing dogs. Of course, Rodney has fallen in love with my new bed and Ziggy has taken to hissing. She hissed at her new friend Little Guy. She hissed at her one true love, Rodney, and she hissed at me as she was rubbing up against my legs and begging for love. I should head out and get some sleep now so I can get up early and scrub. I just wanted to let you know that all is well in my little world. Keep smiling.

Walking the night in darkness bled
So many wounds, so close to dead
But living still, I take a breath
They shall not rejoice at my death
When needs must be met, I appear
But when pain recedes, I am not near
Though I stand before your very face
I am not here in this place
You can't see me fading, leaving darkness
For you only see those you wish to undress
Standing alone, asking for no attention
Screaming in darkness, you don't feel the tension
Two inches between your ear and my lips
But somehow each word swiftly slips
Darkness falls and you seek after me
But I am not there--"Where can she be?"

Some days, you want to be invisible. Some days you want to be seen. Some days you just want them to say, "Hey, it's Bella. It really is good to see her." Most days I really don't care. Today, however, I find myself intrigued. Standing outside the post office this morning, a guy approached me. He has done this twice in the past. He never remembers but he always hits on me. I always mock him--cruel, cruel IMPress of love. I can not give what he wants, but apparently there is not much more to me than that. Such a loss to those who can not see. Can you look beyond these words? Can you even begin to understand? Of course not, the clown must come forth.

*A tiny lady in baggy pants with a white face climbs out of a matchbox car. Her face is painted white with a big red smile and pink petaled flowers on her cheeks. Pale silver eyeshadow offsets her golden eyes. Somewhere in those golden depths, pain flickers and fades as you wish it away. Her wig is lengths of fine, golden threads falling to the floor around her. Baggy pink pants shimmer under a long, green sweater. She dances, she cavorts, the crowd laughs. Then she dives into a tiny pool of water and disappears with an "EEEEP"*

Well, here she is, everybody's favorite rainy day clown: Bella, the Madame of the Cat-house. I live with three cats now. Rodney was perfectly content as soon as he saw that my new bed is a really big pillow. Now we don't have to fight for my pillow anymore and he even lets me cuddle him. That will wear off eventually.

Ziggy has decided that she must be the reigning queen. She started out by hiding in her litter box. This brought her greater contentment for a while, but after I yelled at her from discouraging Rodney from practicing good hygiene, she decided to slink out and rub up against my ankles, growling forcefully all the while. She has now moved up to chasing the boys and yelling at them. That and following me anywhere I go and sticking her head into the cabinets.

Their new friend Little Guy is taking this all in stride. He did beat Rodney up for trying to eat his food, so he does seem to have limits to his tolerance. He hasn't done anything overly amusing though. He just sneaks up on people and licks their heads. Disturbing? Yes. Endearing? Not really. Maybe he will eventually catch onto that. Anyway, I have nothing else to share, so laugh and move on.

I finished attempting to clean the old apartment. I think the kitchen was lost on me. After a while, one loses inertia for such things. Then I came back to my hobbit hole and didn't clean much. I did make a cake so that I could have it with "tea" and breakfast and second breakfast. It is a mighty big cake for one little hobbit. Luckily my roommate also likes cake even if he doesn't know much about Marie Antoinette (On a side note, she actually told them to eat brioche which is more like a very sweet bread than cake.)

It is gonna be fun getting used to having three little hairballs who want my attention. Two is bad enough, but one day I am going to open the bathroom door and have a gargoyle staring directly at me as well as the two standing on either side of the door, watching each other. That could create trauma. In fact, it would create trauma in one who is not aspiring to be a crazy cat lady. With the men who openly admit an attraction to me, I assure you that I am better off alone.

I do have a sexy male sneaking into my room as he speak. Unfortunately, he is a cat and I don't dig cats like that. They're lovable but not that lovable. Okay, I lied they are that lovable to other cats. I, however, am not a cat though in one incarnation, Annabella was a cat. I never did post that story. I wonder what I did with it. Maybe someday, I will get around to organizing this page and making it flashy. So many projects and only one Bella. Anyone want to pay me update this page? Just checking. I am almost serious, so make me an offer:)

I spent a fair portion of the day in seminars. I got to learn all sorts of novel things that I just have to share with the world. I may even make it span a couple of days in order to avoid overloading your senses. After all, too much information can lead to serious head trauma--especially to those trying to cram it in with a spoon.

Perhaps, I should share some of the things that I learned in my first seminar of the day. I learned that fire is dark. This sounds like a perfect lead-in to a poem, so I shall have to resist. I also learned that I have worked in asbestos land. I'm excited by this info. There is nothing I would rather do than take some asbestos for a walk through my lungs. I may have already done so without being aware. That is truly exciting. I also learned that people who are prone to ignore the speaker or doze off should not sit in the front row.

In my second seminar, I learned about sexual harassment. I learned that you should not look at, touch, or even talk to people because they may deem it as sexual harassment. This gives me more reasons to be rude to people. This also implies that should someone touch me that I would prefer not to, I can tell them to back up because I feel harassed by their presence. Not that that is likely to happen. The people who are brave enough to approach me at work are usually my friends or I flee from them. Such is the way of normal people, I am told:)

TOP TEN SIGNS YOU ARE IN THE WRONG MEETING

10. That burly guy holding a sword at the door doesn't look too friendly.
9. You are a hobbit trying to enter a meeting of men in dark clothes with a sign on the door announcing, "How to Get the One Ring from the Smelly Hobbitses".
8. You walk in and silence suddenly reigns. People just gape at you.
7. The sign on the door says, "Everyone welcome except [insert your name here]".
6. You seem to be the only one who doesn't have a problem to share with the group.
5. You are the only person in the room who disagrees with absolutely everything.
4. The people next to you get up and move after you make your first comment so that they won't be associated with you.
3. You really stand out in the room. (For example, you are the only one wearing a toga and a leafy crown.)
2. You fall asleep and no one notices, so you sleep in an empty meeting room for three hours before waking up in your own drool.
1. Sven, the Norse bouncer, kicks you out by the seat of your pants.

The clouds part and sunlight pours forth. The forlorn child opens her tightly closed eyes and sees the light. Her tears dry and she smiles--a smile that could break a million hearts. She sees in this one moment that life is worth living for this one moment when it all becomes clear. In this one moment she can see past the pain into the heart of Heaven where peace reigns. Sadly, such moments often seem so brief and we do not rise above the pain, the anger and the tears. We drown in our tears, pulled under by our pain and beaten by our own anger.

Don't know where that came from, but there you have it--another Mormon Moment by the beautiful Bella. Sometimes I just can't help myself. Sometimes I also desert this dear journal, leaving you all with no words to bring you joy. So what have I been up to? Well, when I am not playing addictive yahoo games, I manage to have all sorts of excitement.

Let me see, on Thursday I brought more joy to beautiful microfiche. I also went to see The Matrix: Reloaded. It was rather intriguing and one of the characters had some fun things to say about the French language. To quote, kind of since I feel the urge to edit, in deference to cursing in French, "It's like wiping ones butt with silk." This made me snicker, of course, because I have been cursed at in French--who hasn't?

On Friday, I made more happy microfiche by stamping them and putting them to rest. I also spent some time watching my cats cavort. On Saturday, I got to talk with a random Baptist minister who reminded me that I deserve Hell. Always nice to have door-to-door Hell salesmen drop by *wink*. Something about that disturbs me. Why would you want to believe that God enjoys watching us suffer and believes that is all we deserve. Anyway, this is not a theology lecture--just a journal.

I forgot to mention that I have been invited to be part of a wedding party--two actually, but one is more official. As I have mentioned, Humble Shelby Hobbit-friend has found her match. They will be making their vows of eternal love and commitment at the end of the month. I'm excited, they're excited, the whole world is excited--Congrats, Shelby and Landon.

My friend Stephanie from high school is also celebrating nuptials in the near future. She will be walking down the aisle in September, and she wants me to follow her around with flowers. Yay, Bella the bridesmaid. Always a bridesmaid never a bride? Perhaps. I do not claim to know what the future holds for me. Maybe Mr. VeryRight will trip over my feet at the wedding. This means that I get to buy a dress of exquisite beauty (anyone who wants me in their wedding party must have excellent taste after all.)

I haven't been doing a lot that would interest my stalwart readers and I don't have any bad jokes to crack. It is like the end of the world as we know it. Don't worry though--a little more sleep with have me back into wild Bella style again.

You awake, the air stirs
Oats on honey, a soft cat purrs
And begs that you write
Of such dreams of the night
That you may remember
When life's December
Falls cold on frail old bones
And the dark wind moans
Calling you away from this
That all you will miss
Shall be told on aged pages
While the fire of youth rages
In those whom you have left behind
Still these words will remind

That the sun rose on a day
In a bygone era, in May
That found a poet with pen in hand
Writing in the hopes you understand
That you would such polished words read
And feel the unqueanchable need
To take a moment, to sit down
All your sorrows and fears drown
In blackest ink on whitest page
That too will turn yellow with age
And someday inspire the next ages poet
To feel life and in words show it
By passing on their desire
To burn the world with a poet's fire

So people keep forgetting to pick me up. This worries me. How old does one have to be before they start to show signs of Alzheimer's? As all of my faithful readers are well aware, this beautiful Bella babe is unforgettable. Maybe it is the cloak or the way I talk to myself. Perhaps it is my smile or eyes that seem eternally full of emotion. I can't really say, but I would wager that I am not forgotten easily.

On to other things. What has the bodacious Bella been doing in her long silence on the web? Friday was another fun and exciting day. I got to attend a bachelorette party for a dear friend. Imagine girls who don't drink unleashed on a bar. Now, I must point out that we were having so much fun that the drunk people joined us. Yes, we made new friends, we had lots of fun, we drank lots of water, and some of us even walked away with phone numbers. I also got a cowboy hat, so I can now officially be the cowgirl of my dreams *ponders the joys of this combined with activities this evening*.

After all of that partying on Friday night, one would think that Miss Bella would settle in for a long day of sleeping and practicing the crazy cat chica cackle. No, not this wild girl. Instead, I put on some comfortable shoes and joined my friends for tiffle ball in the park. I managed to hit the ball three times and run home twice. It was like Christmas in May. I also got complimented on my passable throwing arm. I actually could throw the ball to the pitcher from behind the plate *cheer*.

So my team won, what more could I possibly do? I went to my friends' apartment to paint. I think I may be wasting a talent here. Afterward, we had a little barbecue to celebrate the beauty of our handiwork. Three men wouldn't want to live in an apartment with sunshine yellow walls after all. Especially not buff studs like my co-hobbit, DC, and J-squared. Hey, I only nicknamed one of them, so I don't want to hear any complaints.

I also did something wild and crazy. I let myself watch the cooking channel. They used French words and sucked me in, so I spent today trying to figure out the art of eclairs. Ah, delicious eclairs. I have not perfected my art, but I hope to do so soon. Besides, I get to eat my mistakes. *burp* When they are more acceptable, I shall start giving them out to the people who deserve them. In other words, dear friends who have yet to let me down. Anyway, I have places to go this evening, so I shall cut this short so I can post it for your viewing pleasure.

Some days it feels like part of me is slipping away. I wonder who will notice, if anyone could. You have to know someone to realize that a part of them has died and so few people truly know me. How many have seen the tears behind the laughter? How many have tried to wipe them away? Not many. Rather sad that she who has so much love to give receives so little in return. Makes you wonder how she refills those coffers so that she can give still more. More than likely, it actually makes you wonder why this is not making you laugh. Don't worry, the laughs are always quick in coming.

So I woke up this morning--quite a few times. It wasn't a good night for sleeping, I guess. I did have that incredibly fluffy pillow that kept clawing me, but I don't think that was the cause of my sleeping distress. It may have been the striped foot warmer that kept crawling up to my face, but that wasn't it. I think it was the delivery van that kept backing up beside my bed. My alarm clock sounds a lot like the sounds some vans make when they back up. It is creepy and will probably result in some weird dreams for me in the future.

So I finally crawled out of bed and into the world of the living. I got yelled at by a student because he didn't understand the concept of, "The library will not be open until 8." Prince Anger proceeded to yell at me because I did not just let him have the run of the building. I find this odd. Seriously, if a building is not open before a certain hour to the public, you should make other arrangements to get your work done and not get angry with someone because you waited until the last minute. Sorry, some days I have to rant.

The barcodes and microfiche were docile and cooperative as usual. They did not make demands that could not be met or say foul things to me. In fact, they got up and danced and sang for my viewing pleasure. I actually fear that that was a result of not enough sleep, but I shall take my entertainment where I find it.

I also got a free lunch today. I went to lunch with my previous boss and a co-worker at her mother's new apartment. It was very filling and quite good. We even had homemade apple dumplings. *drool* Food is the best medicine for what ails you. It also gives energy to those of us who aren't sure we have it in us to bring joy to one more microfiche. That was about the extent of my day until I came home and started working on a CD full of tunes to keep my ears busy at work. This may take forever, but it should prove interesting:) Now to make you really giggle.

TOP TEN SIGNS YOU ARE BECOMING THE PET INSTEAD OF THE MASTER

10. You find yourself curled up on a basket in the floor each morning.
9. You find yourself hopelessly following your pet in the hopes of acquiring food scraps.
8. You keep getting sprayed with a water bottle when you get on the table.
7. The litter box now has your name over it.
6. You're spending more time alone at home and your pet seems to be gone from 9 to 5 every day.
5. You find yourself afraid of that really big box with a door that appeared shortly after the animals started talking about the vee-eee-tea.
4. You can only walk so far forward before something jerks you backward.
3. Animals you have never seen before keep visiting and cooing at you.
2. For the third time today, you have been awakened rudely by your pet dumping you in the floor.
1. That collar around your neck with the tag that reads Property of Fluffy--Spank With Newspaper and Return.

It's been an incredibly long time since I danced with anyone but my cat. Not that this entry has anything to do with dancing. My subject just reminded me of that. Maybe I will whip out my veil and take a few test spins around the room when I am done with this entry.

Tonight, I practiced the fine art of cake decorating again. I named my cake sweet-pea. This is because I practiced making sweet-peas on it. This, of course, led the living jukebox to start singing an oldies song. If you can't figure out which one, you haven't lived or haven't spent much time listening to oldies. You should go work on that. No, not right now. You have to finish getting your Bella fix first.

Today was a big day. I went to lunch with a large group of radical librarians to wish a dear friend luck in her new job. We gave her presents and ate yummy food. The bartender decided that I needed a stiff drink and sent me the alcoholic version of the drink I ordered. You can imagine how well that went over. I am still recovering from the ickiness. I did manage to entertain some people with my facial contortions, but it wasn't worth it. You must understand that all alcoholic beverages taste like rubbing alcohol smells in my opinion and I don't want anything like that in my system. *looks a little green around the gills*

Well, this reporter has a few more songs to copy over (all from cds I own, but don't have the strength to carry with me everywhere I go). This means she is going to post this, work on that and snuggle up to her pillow and sleep. Night.