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.