Twenty-four.

A couple of weeks ago, I was asked to write about home.
At the time, I rather liked my entry but now it just seems a mis-shaped mis-match of other people's words strung together with my ramblings, never quite reaching a point. The point I was trying to make is that the concept of home still completely escapes me and that suits me just fine.

But here I am in Georgia and suddenly home is everywhere. This isn't even my real home, but rather the home I've chosen for myself. And here I've been, watching my best friend in her day-to-day and holding Baby Caroline and chopping celery and driving through the suburbs and marveling over the things like the matching furniture, an adoring husband, lack of landlords, and in-house washer and dryer. This IS a home and not because of these tangible things. But because somehow, Lori found a way to still exist through it all. She's still there, behind the sterilized baby bottles and clean dishes and brand new dining room furniture.

And I think maybe THAT is my new perception of home. The place where you can exist simultaneously as best and worst case scenario you. The place that smells your morning breath and dirty clothes and produces the good hair days and positive life choices. It's what you both strive for and maintain. It's what you want, and what you've got.

I rent a room and I fill the spaces with
wood in places to make it feel like home
but all I feel's alone
It might be a quarter life crisis
or just the stirring in my soul

Either way, I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdict-less life

Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Am I living it right?
Why, Georgia, why?
(John Mayer)

to be continued...

Twenty-one, two and three.

I'm in Atlanta, snuggling with Baby Caroline.
24 hours ago, I was hanging out in Charlotte with my girls.
6 hours ago, I was all alone and behind the wheel of a car, singing at the top of my lungs
I'm paying limited attention to my blackberry.
There will be pictures and grandiose explanations at some point later this week, I am sure.
But for right now, I'm totally content. (And full! Mama Diane and BJ cooked us one hell of a supper. WITH SWEET TEA.)
Now, all the adults in the room are sipping cocktails and preparing to dominate in Phase 10.
Oh, Dirty South. You will always be home sweet home to me. One day, I am sure I'll come back for good. But if one more person asks me "when??" on this trip why, I just don't know what I'll do.
It'll happen when it does.

Nineteen Twenty

Yesterday was very busy.
Today looks much the same.
Tonight will bring New Moon.
And tomorrow brings a plane.

(I didn't set out to write a poem, but I accidentally just wrote a bad one so deal with it.)

Whole lotta stuff going on in my life right now. This is the point in NABLOPOMO where I thought I might falter. So, if I go AWOL over the next week it pretty much means I'm enjoying my vacation and don't really feel like hopping online.

Here's hoping I can write you a doozy tomorrow from the airport though. In the meantime, I'm off to another full day of work! Think I can shave the 1000+ emails in my inbox down to under 200? Or make a schedule that will actually work for everyone? Or make sure all my guests are set up and ready to go and none of their plans will go awry? Or still have a full head of hair by the end of today.

We shall see. We shall see.

Seventeen Eighteen.

I did it.

I failed.

Yesterday came and went and not once did it cross my mind that I should blog. Well, not entirely true. It crossed my mind while I was at work and blocked from the site. But then work rolled into the after work party which turned out to be ENTIRELY too much food and a few too many delicous martinis (seriously - have I ever mentioned I LOVE MY JOB?!) so that by the time I got home, it was too late and I was far too woozy. (I said woozy. Not drunk. Thankyouverymuch.) It didn't even dawn on me till halfway through today as I was thinking up what I wanted to tell y'all tonight that I hadn't yapped atchya yesterday. Whoops.

What I wanted to tell you about today is that I spent it staring at these people.
Apparently, this should impress me. At the risk of sounding jaded and, well, old, it does not. You've heard me rave about Twilight (and I already have my tickets for New Moon). I've seen Kelly Clarkson in concert. (And David Cook and New Kids on the Block, too.) I've dialed into American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance voting lines more times than you should know about. There may have even been a brief obsession with Bachelor/Bachelorette recently, something I hope ceases by the time Jake takes over the selection process. I've supported, enjoyed, tuned into and fawned over countless other things associated with tweens, or poor taste in general. But Gossip Girl just isn't one of them. Nothing about this show draws me in, not even the fact that it's filmed all over my fair city and especially not even the fact that it's been filmed in 2 locations where I work. (With one of them becoming a regularly occurring spot.)

All that being said, it sure is fun to be on a set all day and watch the PAs scramble and scream "QUIET ON THE SET. ROLLING. CUUUUUUUUT!" and watch the magic of tv and film unfold right in front of my very eyes. (And MAN, every member of the production team of Gossip Girl is a tween themself. I swear. Youngest staff EVER, but at least they appear to know what they're doing, in their unwashed hair and simultaneously baggy skinny jeans and hoodies and beanies with belts securing goodness knows what 'round their hips.) Being on set also affirms another key belief: I never was and never will be cut out for film. All those takes and re-grouping and details and screeching. Nope. No thank you. Give me a stage and one shot to get it done any day of the week. I wouldn't last a day on this kind of set.

I say that with an enormous amount of respect for the actors who can do it, by the by. Despite my snarky undertones, I am positive the members of this cast and crew are actually extraordinarily talented. You'll just never see me chomping at the bit to extra for this, or any other show/movie.

And that's how I feel about that.

16

Know what's weird?

The more stuff I do and the busier I stay and the crazier life gets...THE MORE ENERGY I HAVE!!!!!

I mean, I woke up and did work and then went to work and did work and then I ran around and did some work before heading over to more work to do some more work. (There was a small break in there for turkey and brie with apples, nomnomnomnomnomnomnom.) And after all that work (which frankly, really should be called something else because my job is so fun/ridiculous it often feels like anything but) I spent a solid 27 minutes cursing the MTA, which was probably the only life-sucking force of my day, and then had rehearsal which was SO FUN.

Rehearsal tangent...it's like the 3 year hiatus I took was the best possible thing and any talent I may have had just marinated and cycled through my system because I suddenly feel so much more...capable? Is that possible? It's so weird and also SO COOL. I'm saying so a lot in this entry. Is that ok? I don't know. Last time I acted I just felt so disconnected and trapped. Like I was standing on the wrong side of a glass wall. I could SEE where I needed to be, I just couldn't get there. And this time? No wall. Just lots of trusting myself and the cast and directors. Crazy.

Anyhoo. So I arrive home and both roomies are here and suddenly, despite the throbbing pain in my feet, severe hunger pains, and knowledge that I SHOULD be ready for bed, I found myself running around the apartment giggling hysterically.

Meanwhile, Sunday, I sat on my butt all day and paid some much needed attention to the DVR and at the end of the day felt more tired than at the start.

Let this feeling be documented. I should do more so I have the energy to do EVEN MORE!!!

FIFTEEN!!!!!

Halfway point.

I have a busy two weeks ahead, so today has been delightfully lazy. (I did do a little cleaning. And ordered some makeup. Productive!!) Sadly, I'm terribly excited about going to work tomorrow for two reasons.

1) Today, I've spoken to no one but my cat, and I could use a little more interaction in the days to come.
2) I get to wear my neeew suit, neeeeeeew suit!

I never thought I'd be a suit. I especially never thought I'd be a suit AND ugly shoes. (I double dog dare you to find me cute shoes that allow me to stand comfortably all day. They don't exist.) And I really and absolutely, completely and totally NEVER envisioned I'd be excited about waking up early so I can put ON said suit.

But I am a suit now, so a suit I shall be. When I moved to New York, I owned no suits. Then I bought a blazer, and then another. Then my first "real" suit and now I'm up to four, two of which include both a skirt and pants. And labels? Started with Jones New York, graduated to Anne Klein, considered Tahari, and finally landed on Calvin Klein. What UP, life? Worse still, I wear pantyhose and pearls, too. And have a preferred dry cleaner.

And this week, I'm going to go get my neeeeew suit neeeeeew suit tailored. Seriously??

Some days, I don't even recognize myself. But then I spend a Sunday entirely in my pajamas, talking to my cat and locating my floor, and round it off with a blog entirely about suits and ugly shoes so I guess I'm still there somewhere.

Let the games begin. Rehearsals, lots 'o work, packing, Charlotte, Atlanta...here I come!

Fourteen...

I woke up and yelled at myself for being a ninny last night. Seriously. I'm an idiot sometimes. And then I sat in bed and moaned, and then I tuned my guitar but never really played it. Showered, committed to a bad hair day. Put on something I wear too often. Brewed coffee. And left for rehearsal.

The scene we rehearsed today is ridiculous and I'm kind of in love with it. The director had asked I take a chance and not settle into my typical pattern. So instead of playing a 70 year old Southerner named Pearl, I'm playing a 70 year old New Yorker named Pearl. Hilarious. I had no idea I could make my voice do neat tricks, but apparently I can. I feel good and thankfully, confident.

I left rehearsal and, despite the rain, decided to go do something about the fact that every pair of shoes I own seems to have holes in the bottom. Along the way, there was a Lori conversation and some pinkberry with pomegranate seeds. Mmmmmm.

Now, I'm usually an enthusiastic shopper, but shoe shopping kind of makes me break down into hysterical tears. I never find what I want for the price I need so I usually wind up with something that'll do for a price that's higher than what I planned. I have decided I need a pair of hot little ankle boots. Sadly, my favorite pair were $100. There'll be sales later this season, right? Right?

And then I remembered that upstairs sat Filene's Basement, and inside Filene's Basement lives a quarter of a floor dedicated entirely to socks and tights. Only when I arrived I quickly learned that where it was is where the women's suiting department currently resides. And I have to buy a new suit. So. Found a pinstriped Calvin Klein for 70% less than it was at Macy's. Guess I should stop being a snob about Filene's, huh? Didn't get any tights though. Whoops.

And now, here I sit with my cat and my DVR. Some might label me a loser, but I assure you, I've been plenty social this week.

13.

Today.
Was a day.
It absolutely lived up to being Friday the 13th.

But then today ended and things began to look up considerably. Once again, I'm coming at you live from my blackberry. I'm behaving, I promise. Just enjoying some wine and anxiously awaiting chocolate cake. Before that, there was Cirque du Soleil.

Tomorrow, there will be rehearsal, which is going SO well and is immensely challenging, which is kind of the point. And Sunday? Well, there won't be much of anything.

And then next week will be a hot side of crazy sauce and then the next week will be spent down yonder in the dirty dirty. I'm looking forward to things.

Editor's postscript:
I've just arrived home. I am sitting here in absolute awe of the world around me, and God's uncanny ability to provide never what I want, but precisely what I need. In this moment, I am engulfed in bizarre feelings of gratitude for the Universe's vigilant watch over my feelings and existence. I am exactly where I should be, in a million different ways. I am both humbled and grateful.

12!

Okay.

I thought I left drunk posting behind when I started ignoring my livejournal. (And for those of you who followed me over from livejournal, you know there was an abundance of drunken posts in my early 20s.) I also thought I was still young and hip and fun and could pull off nights that lasted all the way until 1 AM. But no. As a result of last night's escapades, I have been dragging all day. My alarm rang at 7 this morning and I literally felt glued to my bed.

I am officially no longer a spring chicken. And though I can handle my alcohol considerably better than early 20s Alison, I sure can't handle lack of sleep.

That being said, last night was fabulous and absolutely worth a slushy lame blog. The concierges and I descended upon the young, hip, fun Meatpacking District and ate sushi and drank sake and networked. But more importantly, we welcomed one of my Favorite People Alive home from his 9 months of travel 'round the world. He's home, and somehow the world makes sense once again!

11

This is absolutely and completely cheating. I'm posting from my blackberry from inside a bar.

I know. I KNOW. Reprimand me all you want. Adrian is home and I'm having a lot of fun right now. There will be pictures tomorrow. Perhaps the cutuest picture I've ever seen.

And even though it's not even midnight, we're already at the after party. I probably should stop drinking soon.

Yeah. We'll see about that.

OOOOOOOO. POTATO SKINS!!!!!!