Calling out, somebody save me, I feel like I'm fading.

It's June 1st.
A new week, a new month, and a beautiful day at that.
I've always liked June 1st, because after June 1st comes July 1st, and after July 1st comes my birthday. And I love the new hope that each birthday brings because my curious self can't ever help but wonder if this will be the year I've been waiting for.

Perhaps I will approach 27 with a little more caution and tact than the previous 26 years, but something tells me the only thing I've ever gotten good at is being Alison which is to say, probably not. Alison does not reign it in, and Alison certainly does not bottle. Sometimes I wish I was better at these things, as a little control and a little mystery really never did anyone any harm.

My best friend once told me my life is a bad country song. I didn't believe her until now. I mean, if your life has to be a country song, one could at least hope it was a badass one like a Johnny Cash or a Patsy Cline. Nope. My life is of the bubble-gum country persuasion. Taylor Swift probably sings my song, and millions around the world delight in the tedium as it blasts through the airwaves. My life is Soap Opera Network, when I would really prefer Comedy Central.

(My best friend is honest and also right, and I wouldn't be much of anything without her and I typed the last paragraph as an attempt to return to my funny. Please take it as such.)

My best friend also gave me the most sound advice I've ever gotten today.

...but don't hold on the present hoping for the future

Hows about I just start holding the future accountable for all I know it will be, instead?


It's clear this conversation
Ain't doin' a thing
Cause these boys only listen to me when I sing
And I don't feel like singing tonight
All the same songs

Here, in these deep city lights
Girl could get lost tonight
I'm finding every reason to be gone
Nothing here to hold on to

Could I hold you?

(Sara Bareilles)