Every rose has its thorn.

The days keep flying by and I keep meaning to get all introspective on this here page and then poof, another day is gone. Is this what it's like to be a grown up?

I've been running at a non-stop, full-tilt boogie for a little too long now and frankly, I'm exhausted. Spring brings flowers and therefore allergies and it also brings visitors for both me and my fair city, so between playing travel planner by day and personal tour guide by night, I'm a step or two beyond exhausted. Frankly, I need a couple days on the beach complete with day drinking and trashy novels before I'm going to feel anything like "normal" again. But then again, what the hell is "normal" for me anyway? This is the life I've chosen, this is chaos I willingly embraced and walked directly towards. So no complaining, right?


I saw American Idiot a couple weeks ago. I loved it, but frankly I need to see it again. Crissie and Megan have dubbed my ADD the "Oooo, shiny!" disease and being easily distracted does not lend itself well to a show with no less than 3 scenes occuring simultaneously at all times, with a hell of a lot media also happening all over the stage. But the orchestrations and the cast? Spot on. Last weekend brought Promises, Promises. It was fine. I was underwhelmed because Kristin Chenoweth decided to take the evening off (the nerve!) and her understudy was little more than a vocal mimic without the necessary acting chops or grasp of comedic timing to carry out the role. Sorry. I'm usually not an understudy hater. But this substitution definitely broke the spirit of the show.

This weekend, I'm seeing Fela which means for the first year ever, I will have seen all four shows in competition for Best Musical at the Tonys. (Well. In their Broadway forms. A couple of times I'd seen the off-Broadway versions so passed on pouring more money into almost the same show.) And while I loved Million Dollar Quartet and Memphis my money is still on American Idiot.

Yesterday marked exactly 10 years since graduating high school and finally fleeing the tiny kingdom. Tomorrow, little brother will walk the same stage to get the same degree from the same school. My ten year reunion is just over a month away The amount of things that have changed in the past decade blow my mind. I'm a lot further along than I thought I'd be in some ways, and paces behind in others. I'm nervous. I have dreams about the reunion at least once a week, which is so completely silly to admit. I'm going to try really hard to hold my head up high and march in there 100% ok with where I am now, despite it not being quite where I planned to be. No marriage or even engagement ring, no mortgage, no future plans, certainly no kids but hey, I live in New York City on my own dime and found a job that doesn't suck that I'm GREAT at so does that count for something?

I'm so completely frustrated with my weight I can't stand it. The nonstop stress leads to bad food decisions and the pounds aren't coming off this time. Sure, I don't weigh 300 pounds anymore so the weight isn't going to fall off now like it did then. I guess every other time I've put my mind to lose, I have and this time I swear my body is working against me. Size 16 for life? Geez, I hope not. That's mighty depressing.

Everything boils down to this: something big needs to happen. Soon. We all know once I begin to feel stagnant in life I freak out and I'm very much feeling stuck right about now. I pray the winds of change blow my way soon because I'm tired of whining and you're tired of listening.

It's you I like.

When I was four, I didn't know much. I especially didn't know there were things in my life I didn't like and didn't treasure and didn't know I'd one day crave. I didn't know that one day naps would become a luxury. I didn't know quiet time could be a reward instead of a punishment. I thought holding hands was stupid. I didn't like green beans. Or pineapple. Or anything not made out of bread and cheese. I had no idea how important family was, and how lucky I was to be born into mine. I didn't know I'd one day cry myself to sleep over flaws I didn't yet recognize. I didn't know I was a drama queen, emotional basketcase, future fat kid, or at all unbalanced.

And of course, I knew nothing of the people I'd one day meet and love or the places I'd see or the things I'd do. Four year old Alison had yet to be tainted with high school or ignorance and wasn't broken by cruel words and ridiculous people and didn't know anything about all she'd learn in college and New York and beyond. She had no idea she should do anything but love and play and imagine.

This week, 27 year old Alison saw Everyday Rapture...the story behind Sherie Rene Scott's rise to Broadway fame. I loved it. (Note: non-Broadway snobs, don't bother. You'll spend much of the show giving the quizzical "huh?" looks my roommate shot my way each time I erupted into peels of laughter over the morsels of obscure theatrical tidbits thrown my way.) And for no real reason whatsoever, other than to pay homage to a great man, Sherie serenaded us with a song I listened to as often as I could when I was four.

That's right...Mr. Roger's It's You I Like


It's you I like,
It's not the things you wear,
It's not the way you do your hair--
But it's you I like
The way you are right now,
The way down deep inside you--
Not the things that hide you,
Not your toys--
They're just beside you.

But it's you I like--
Every part of you,
Your skin, your eyes, your feelings
Whether old or new.
I hope that you'll remember
Even when you're feeling blue
That it's you I like,
It's you yourself,
It's you, it's you I like.


Suddenly I realized, I did know a heck of a lot when I was four. Because when I was four, I knew the important reasons behind liking people. And I hope that every day moving forward, I sing these words to myself to remember again and sink further into that whole "big picture" mentality we late-twenty-somethings are eventually supposed to relax into.