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!!!!!!

Ten.

Carrie Bradshaw once noted that every New Yorker is constantly on the lookout for at least one of three things: an apartment, a job and a relationship.
Apartment? Check (and that probably deserves its own blog).
Job? Big ole check (and THAT probably deserves its own blog).
Relationship? Hahahaha. But it's also been said that two out of three ain't bad.

I've written countless letters to my future guy, and think about him often. And if I could beg just one question of the universe, my decision would be easy. Have I at least met him? Some days, I'm so lonely that I don't think I can go even one more day on my own. But somehow, I always do. And then on nights like tonight, I think about all the perks of flying solo.

I worked hard all day long. Now that I'm home (and it's not even 8), I'm wearing boxers so ugly I don't even know why I own them. (Yes I do. Costume party.) Makeup's gone and hair looks far from good. There's a pile of clothes on my floor that I probably won't hang up anytime soon because I don't have anyone to try to convince I have my shit together. My dinner? Probably going to be bachorette-orific and something along the lines of cereal. I'm on no one's agenda and have nothing to talk about and easy access to a remote that will not be fought over.

Would I give this all up in a heartbeat for the right guy? Absolutely. Will I panic if he doesn't show up on my doorstep tomorrow? Here's hoping...

I realize that all the points listed above are things singles often say to try and convince themselves it's not so bad. But somewhere along the way of realizing them, I actually started to believe in them. I'm either becoming independent, or a cynic.

I've been asked what seems like a million times recently why I don't have a boyfriend. Beats me, I'm awesome. But it all seriousness, there's something about that question that grinds on my last nerve. It's like telling someone who's overweight that they have SUCH a pretty face. (And trust me, I've gotten that line a fair share, too.) Being single is a transient state, and furthermore, one I do NOT have control over. Implying that I'm less than complete or somehow at fault because I cannot control something entirely out of my hands isn't nice. I don't KNOW why I'm single. If I did, frankly, I'd probably change it. Instead, I'll just make the best out of my current situation. (See third paragraph.)

I believe I have a lot of control in this life. I control who I'm friends with and what kind of incredible mischief we get into. I control my job and my success at it. I control my finances, what my cat thinks of me, what I eat, what shoes I wear, what color I paint my walls, what shows I see, what I buy, what scent I wear, what insurance plan I have, what social networking sites I belong to, and a billion other things.

Love and public transportation? Two things absolutely not on that list. It's somehow both calming and comforting to have reached such a revelation. Be the best Alison possible: the rest will somehow fall in line.

Nine.

Roots!
The funny limbs that grow underground
That keep you from falling down
Don't you think that you'll need them now?

Just find a place where no one knows of your redneck past
Yeah, you can easily dispose of your redneck past
You'll show them all back home
(Ben Folds Five)

Home. I was asked to write about home today. Which is good, because I don’t think my perception of “home” falls in line with the general assessment of the idea. Which might be something along the lines of…

Four walls, a roof, a door, some windows
Just a place to run when my working day is through
They say home is where the heart is
If the exception proves the rule, I guess that's true
(Dixie Chicks)

“Where are you from?” is always such a strange question for me to correctly answer. I spent 18 years in Alabama, 6 in North Carolina, and have resided in New York for just over 3. My roots are in Bama, my heart is in Carolina, and my body currently resides somewhere in the concrete chaos of the great Northeast. Where I am from isn’t as important as where I am going.

New York is not my home
(Jim Croce)

I guess for me, home is what I’m constantly working towards. Home is not only my past (yes, my redneck past), but it's very much in the here and now and absolutely driving me around the next corner.

Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping,
Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
(Paul Simon)

Less physical, more spiritual, and certainly whatever it is my soul craves.

Do you wonder where the self resides?
Is it in the head or between your sides?
And who would be the one who will decide
Its true location?
(Andrew Bird)

The point of it all is that I’m still building my ideal home. In the interim, I already am, somehow, home. My friends and their love and God and a hot pink bedroom and the subway and my work? Also my home. Perhaps such is the way of this particular wanderlust.

Me and my girlfriends are crazy little cats
We hang around wonderin’ where our man is at
We drink beer from our thumb-dented cans
We are angels in the dying summer light
And nobody’s dreams are bigger than ours
We got lipstick and legs crossed and girlish little charms
And we use ‘em like lures till it’s lonely and dark
And we want babies, soft and sweet in our arms
(Lindsey Horne – For My Girls)

For now, this is home. And it’s a good one, but it only makes me more excited for the new shell I’ll move into someday. I hope it has a strong foundation and bright walls and is anything but lonely. Somehow, I’m not too worried.

And if you take of my soul
You can still leave it whole
With the pieces of your own you leave behind
We came for salvation
We came for family
We came for all that's good, that's how we'll walk away
We came to break the bad We came to cheer the sad
We came to leave behind the world a better way
(The Avett Brothers)

Click here to read from the inspiration of this post, and see what others have to say.

Eight.

I just rejoined okcupid.com (because I don't feel like paying for Match and eHarmony). I usually have an overly verbose About Me, but I decided to go with a more simple route this time around. I mean, they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results, right? So here we go. New tactic.

There's something about Sundays that makes me want to join dating websites. This occurs about once every 4 months. I have a spectacular weekend, and as I sit basking in the afterglow, I'm reminded that the only thing that could have possibly made it better would have been...well, a spontaneous dance party. (But a guy to share it with is a close second. Promise.)

So here I sit on a typical Autumn Sunday evening. There was lots of football, a little work, a considerable amount of laughter, some theatre, movies, beer, wine, food, adventures and a morning where I slept in all the way until 8 AM! If that doesn't paint a relatively accurate picture, I don't really know what else to tell you.


Gah. Don't judge me. But something in that department neeeeeeds to happen soon. Catch my drift?

7

I am from Alabama.

I am from Alabama, but I consider myself a Carolina Girl, save two very important points: Alabama Football, and barbeque sauce.

Up until this season, Crissie and I invaded Rhythm and Booze in our crimson hoodies and demanded at least one television. Then, Crissie moved to Tuscaloosa and this here Bama fan was left on her own to suffer through football season solo. Every other game has been watched from my couch, while I noisely scare those within earshot. Today, I decided to take my fun on over to Legends, where the LSU fans gather. (Because I'm tired of watching games alone, and because my football-loving friends are LSU types.)

I wore my father's Bama hoodie because I'm not going to do anything in this life quietly. I love my team, and I'm proud to support them, no matter how outnumbered I find myself. I arrived an hour and a half before kickoff, to secure a choice table. Within 10 minutes of my darkening their door, 2 fans had sent over rounds of whiskey as an ode to my brass balls, wearing said hoodie, despite such fierce opposition. There was taunting and high fiving, and much wishing one another a great game.

(I even complimented them on their considerable class, as compared to the Georgia fans. Two years ago, I found myself at THEIR bar. Why do I do this to myself?)

And the game was great. A bit slow on the start with a bit too much playing chicken for my taste. But then we found ourselves at the end of the second quarter and it was absolutely, GAME ON. I promised that Alabama plays its games in the second half. My team didn't let me down, or prove me wrong. And we won, but not until the final four minutes of play.

They turned on me. The same people that waltzed by our table each time we were down, full of cheers and jabs (or, bought me shots), refused to look me in the eye. I quickly put on my coat and tried my best to put on a brave face on their behalf. I made a quick exit, absolutely unwilling to win with anything less than utmost class and grace. It kills me that had they won, I would have proudly sported my crimson and white out that door while they continued the taunts and jeers. I was in the wrong place at the right time. Roll Tide.

I am from Alabama, and suddenly more proud now than ever. I was born into a family of Alabama Alumni who supported my choice to go elsewhere for undergrad. My baby brother will enroll next year, and I am proud to back him in his choice. I am an Alabama fan, and I will support my team, win or lose. (But I will certainly chant one hell of a Rammer Jammer when we win, even if only quietly to myself on the subway.) I am from Alabama, and it took me moving to New York, by way of North Carolina, to realize that I am lucky to call such a place home.

six

Jordan Knight walked by my desk today.

I didn't really realize it until after he'd passed and I'd already given him my standard warm smile and "Good morning!" greeting. And then I had a hot faced "ZOMGTHATWASANEWKIDINEEDTOCALLEVERYONEIKNOW" moment.

I'm wandering up to Harlem tonight to see Dreamgirls (soul-food lunch included) and don't really plan to be home much before midnight in order to fulfill my Day Six duties, so this is all you get. Then again, I saw Jordan Knight today, so I don't really think I should really be expected to communicate effectively for the balance of the day.

Five

Rehearsal?
Was amazing.

The cast is considerably smaller than I'd anticipated, and considerably more talented. (I'm sorry. I don't mean that ugly. I just mean that, frankly, I had no idea what I was getting myself into and the sides given out at the auditions did the piece as a whole NO JUSTICE.) We sat around in a very tight circle inside a teeny weeny studio and just let the words and laughter bounce and run their courses. And it's only going to get better. I am sure of this.

I don't want to say too much about the production specifically because I want those of you who will be able to see it to formulate your own opinions.

In the last acting class I took, I learned the art of being simple. My characters are often too contrived. I tell, beg, and demand the audience to feel exactly what I want them to feel. Which is crap. If I were any good at this, the audience, my audience, should get what I'm trying to convey without my banging them over the head with my own personal agenda.

So I have my work cut out for me. Neither character I will portray are anything like I've either done or considered myself capable of doing. So. I'm gonna do it. Because I'll only be a better actor if I figure out how.

I'm some crazy mix of nervous and elated and frightened and excited and humbled and I'm pretty sure I like it because I am anything but bored right now.

Four!

Let's talk about Halloween weekend.
Actually, let's not talk. Let's just look.
(Ok, fine. There will be a little talking.)

Meet Opal. She celebrated a birthday last week. So, we threw her a right nice party!
Looky there! We pulled out our fancy furniture and strung up our Christmas lights and I even wore muh fancy hat!

Now, I don't want y'all worryin' about my little buns in the oven. (That's right, buns!) My MawMaw smoked and drank the whole time she was preggers with me and I turned out juuuuuuuust fine! See?
Don't I have the purdiest sisters ever? Don't I? Opal, Ruby and Topaz 4-evah!!

Suffice it to say, the White Trash Bash was a success. Except I'm pretty sure I gained about 14 pounds on the macaroni and beer. And Halloween candy. And cupcakes. Lalalalala. Moving on...

Halloween proper was a considerably classier affair.
There was a killer bee and her beekeeper.


A couple of flappers.
(Yes, I absolutely googled flapper speak and spent the evening rattling on about getting bent and finding me a darling baby grand cause I cain't settle for no drugstore cowboy.)

Facebook made an appearance. Or for those of you who are Office fans, BookFace.
I love the amount of ridiculousness currently consuming my life.

Three.

Day Three and I promise I'm here, only in the 11th hour.

Literally.

I would have gotten here sooner, but a long walk turned into spiral practice with my football, which turned into another long walk and some hardcore boxing with the Wii. This, friends, is my ever so exciting life. It's getting harder and hard to drag my sorry self to the gym, so I'm trying to find other ways to stay active.

It's been brought to my attention that I haven't clued my audience into the ins and outs of my daily life. Well. That's because there's not much to "I woke up, ate some yogurt, went to work, made lots of people happy (I hope!), came home, went to the gym (again, I hope) and crashed on the couch with an evening of Bejeweled and bad tv." But there is something pretty exciting going on that I probably should clue you into.

I'm in my first New York theatrical production!

Yup. Three years after I moved here to pursue theatre, I finally pursued a little theatre. Sure, there have been a few auditions and a class. And I've certainly SEEN my fair share of theatre. But I dunno...somehow I never really took it seriously. I went to auditions I knew I wasn't right for that way the rejection seemed a bit less real and slightly more fair. "It's not that I suck. It's that I wasn't right for the role."

So I finally went to an audition where they couldn't type me out. Why? Because they wanted 20-something character actors who could play a wide range of ages and potentially some musical instruments. Well how 'bout DEM apples? I am a 20-something character actress who can play a wide range of ages and yes, even some musical instruments. So I submitted my two year old headshot and my laughably sparse resume and wouldn't you know, I got an audition. And instead of writing this one off and singing que sera sera all the way home, I actually prepared. I went in, belted my song, made some character choices, and smiled pretty and said "thanks for seeing me!"

Two days later, I got the call. Two roles (neither of which I read for, but that's ok). Rehearsals begin tomorrow. It's so NOT a big deal, but it is SO exciting that I'll actually be doing SOMETHING besides keeping my couch and my cat company. And who knows what this will lead to? It's a new show with a company I've wanted to work with for awhile. This could be the hobby I've been begging for.

So tomorrow, I'll wake up and eat my yogurt and put on my suit and go to work and make lots of people happy (I hope). And then, I'll go to rehearsal number one and meet my castmates and breathe life into Pearl and Patti.

I cannot wait.

Two.

It's been 10 years and that seems like a very long time. (But a very good time, too.)
I remember a night much like tonight. Cool, but not quite cold; probably something the poetic types would call crisp. I remember walking the path between Trexler and Belk and gazing at the sky, laced with gauzy clouds. I remember staring at the trees and feeling young and entirely independent and free. I remember loving that campus and loving our city and feeling thrilled to finally be a Carolina Girl. I remember finally understanding that the choices me make and the friends we have are absolutely what shapes our destiny. And I vividly remember that from inside such a moment, I felt like the luckiest, happiest girl alive.

Sure, the sky and the clouds, the trees and that campus, all loaned themselves nicely to such a wonderful feeling of pure contentment. I remember feeling that I had made it, that I had done something, that I had finally started to shrug away the angst of childhood and begun to embrace the possibilities that had arrived to pull me into adulthood. But more than anything, I remember that you were there, right next to me. And I kept this thought silent for a decade, but now I've decided to let it sing to the world. It was only a moment, but it travels with me daily. You were there the first time I associated pure happiness with my world.

So my wish for you, Jennifer Gail, is that the giddiness I felt that night with you at my side walks with you daily throughout your 28th year and beyond. You've shaped a large piece of me, and you carry a sizable chunk of my heart. Happy Birthday! I cannot wait to see you soon!

AOT.

I wanna play the game. (I want the friction.)

I let October come and go without one single entry.
I said October would be better than September, and it was.
There were palpable differences I could see and taste and touch and feel, but there were emotional ties rebound and broken, too.

And now it's November and it's going to be my NaBloPoMo. (That is, National Blog Posting Month.) A post a day, for one month straight. Being that I haven't talked to y'all in awhile, I hope there's a lot to tell you.

Of course...there is a way you can help. If you're reading this, whether I've known you a month or all my life, whether you read this regularly or just wandered in this very minute, no matter what, comment and give me some inspiration. Perhaps it's a story you already know and want me to re-tell it. Perhaps it's a small idea you once heard me say in passing and would like me to explain in more detail. Perhaps you just really care about my thoughts on okra or sequins or Kevin Smith movies. Dunno. Just be my muse. Give me something.

November is going to be beautiful. Adrian comes home and New Moon hits theatres and I start rehearsals for my New York theatrical debut and I get to visit Charlotte and Atlanta and see the most important people in the world (and meet one of them) and the holiday season arrives and there's big things happening at work and there's always that possibility that around the corner, something crazy and exciting waits. Let's get started!