Dear God,
I know we don't talk nearly enough, so it might be a little gauche to do so now in so public a forum. But it worked pretty nicely for Liz Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love and now she's got a movie about her life experiences and she's played by Julia Roberts so I guess it can't be all that bad. But I'm not asking for a national bestseller, or an A-list celebrity to play me in a C-grade movie or anything. I just wanted to address something with you, and I kind of wanted anyone who visits my corner of cyberspace to be fully aware of my awe for you right now.
Today, I worked (and I mean WORKED) for 11 hours straight. I ate nothing but a luna bar and went 8 hours without peeing. (Hey. My corner of cyberspace, my talk with God, I get to share what I want to.) I left work nearly an hour and a half after I was supposed to, and about 20 minutes after I intended to. And when I got off the subway I ignored the serious hot melty cheese craving attack and went to Subway, because I am on a diet afterall and pizza period but especially on an empty stomach with a crashed metabolism probably would have been a bad idea. (I'm not apologizing for the Doritos instead of Bakes Lays, though.)
As I left Subway and rounded the corner towards home, I was greeted by a police van and 6 cop cars, with about 15 cops detaining 2 men against a Mustang. (The car, not the horse. Like this blog needs to get any weirder.) And because it's New York, the streets were lined with onlookers, all mumbling about whatever rumble had apparently just gone down. So thank you, God, for keeping me nice and occupied in Manhattan and safely out of harm's way in Queens. And thank you for letting me go hungry today and then giving me the will power to make the right food decision instead of the wrong one, because not only will the 5k be that much easier, but I'm kind of glad as much time as possible was placed between me and the cops' arrival. And thank you for letting me see the end of whatever meltdown that was so that I could once more be reminded that time and again, I am saved by your grace.
And while I'm on the thank-you tangent, thank you for the drunk men in plaid pink suits that danced around and hugged me and sang Christmas jingles in the middle of the crowded hotel lobby, and then tried to coax me into the limousine I had called for them so that we could all go to the shooting range I was able to locate for them. I hope they're safe and happy tonight. New York City truly is a magical place filled with ridiculous people and every day is an opportunity to live more stories to share. Thank you for leading me here.
Also, thank you for knowing underneath all the sass in this blog and angst currently in my heart, I really do love you.
Yours forever,
Alison
Friday, September 10, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
At times I feel myself smiling, at times I'm not. Doo doo doo doo.
The calls for a new blog post have started to roll in again. Ah, to be popular.
So I guess the first bit of big news is I've signed up for my first 5k. And not just any 5k. Allow me to walk you through it (pun intended). First, there will be some running through the wilderness, followed by cargo nets. More running, then some "island hopping" through cold and muddy water. Running. Mud. Running. Cold muddy water. Running. Tire jungle. Running. 7 foot barricades. Running. Tunnels. Running through the forest. Running. Tunnels. Running. Running up a large hill. Running. LEAPING OVER FIRE.
Finish line.
My training has turned from mmmm, doesn't yoga feel good? to mmmmyeahyoga plus serious cargo plus things that make my arms and shoulders go OW. OW OW OW OW OW OW OW. Megan and I have started Couch 2 5K which is helping a LOT. I still just don't think I'm ever going to be "a runner" but I do think I'll survive this course without dying of a heart attack. Nothing to kick-start my dormant metabolism like training for (and executing) a course designed by Navy Seals, right?
Sigh. Now that I've led with the big news, anything else I say is going to seem pretty wussy and weak. In short: work crazy, cat cute, Autumn arriving, diet succeeding and FOOTBALL SEASON IS HERE. Basically, I couldn't be anymore giddy over this time of year. Between the new Broadway shows to look forward to, the better weather, and Saturdays filled with the best sport (and team) ever, I have a lot to look forward to. And then, without time to recharge, it'll be time for holiday season and all the chaos (and joy) it brings. I am literally breathless with anticipation.
Or perhaps, just breathless from all the running.
And now, I'll leave you with some pictures from a lovely Monday spent at the beach. Adieu, Summer. I am SO glad to see you go.
So I guess the first bit of big news is I've signed up for my first 5k. And not just any 5k. Allow me to walk you through it (pun intended). First, there will be some running through the wilderness, followed by cargo nets. More running, then some "island hopping" through cold and muddy water. Running. Mud. Running. Cold muddy water. Running. Tire jungle. Running. 7 foot barricades. Running. Tunnels. Running through the forest. Running. Tunnels. Running. Running up a large hill. Running. LEAPING OVER FIRE.
Finish line.
My training has turned from mmmm, doesn't yoga feel good? to mmmmyeahyoga plus serious cargo plus things that make my arms and shoulders go OW. OW OW OW OW OW OW OW. Megan and I have started Couch 2 5K which is helping a LOT. I still just don't think I'm ever going to be "a runner" but I do think I'll survive this course without dying of a heart attack. Nothing to kick-start my dormant metabolism like training for (and executing) a course designed by Navy Seals, right?
Sigh. Now that I've led with the big news, anything else I say is going to seem pretty wussy and weak. In short: work crazy, cat cute, Autumn arriving, diet succeeding and FOOTBALL SEASON IS HERE. Basically, I couldn't be anymore giddy over this time of year. Between the new Broadway shows to look forward to, the better weather, and Saturdays filled with the best sport (and team) ever, I have a lot to look forward to. And then, without time to recharge, it'll be time for holiday season and all the chaos (and joy) it brings. I am literally breathless with anticipation.
Or perhaps, just breathless from all the running.
And now, I'll leave you with some pictures from a lovely Monday spent at the beach. Adieu, Summer. I am SO glad to see you go.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
I wanna go back to my room and find a message in dry erase pen on the door.
Dear Baby Bro,
I don't like to make pointless guarantees and empty promises, but mark my words: today is a Very. Big. Day. First and foremost, congratulations on making it 18 years without choking or being choked by our darling parents. No one else on the planet understands this feat quite like I do.
Ten years ago, we parked cargo van in our front yard, and loaded it with suitcases and yaffa blocks, coordinating sheets and throw rugs, communal bathroom supplies, an 8 year old you and an 18 year old me. I can't believe it's your turn, though something tells me your move to college will be much simpler and less dramatic. (But that's pretty much par for the course, and a key difference between you and me.) Speaking as the elder sibling, I'd now like to load you up with some advice that will help you navigate through the next four years (and probably beyond) successfully.
1) Parties are great. DDs are better.
2) Speaking of drinking, the myths are true. Tequila is always bad, but especially if the night began with Natty Light.
3) Speaking of Natty Light, always spend the extra money for better beer.
4) Enough about drinking. Go to class. Seriously. Go to class.
5) No one works best under pressure. It's just a lie we all tell ourselves so we don't feel quite so pathetic for procrastinating.
6) Make new friends. Don't forget about the ones you already have, but make new ones, too.
(Sidebar: Mom just called as they drove home. They're child-free for the first time in 28 years. Let the celebrating AND the empty nest syndrome set in.)
7) Speaking of Mom calling, call her. She won't hover, but she will be curious what you're up to and it would be nice if you'd update her.
8) I am deeply jealous of you for going to a big university. Make the most of it. Promise me you'll go to as many football games as possible, when you're not busy running circles around the other track kids.
9) Please don't let your room, or especially your bathroom, smell like dude. Trust me, it's not manly. It's just gross. And for the love, change your sheets regularly - has Dad ever told you about his first college roommate?
10) Find the perfect greasy spoon, open 24 hours a day diner/coffee shop/whatever. Visit at least once a month, preferably between 11 PM and 3 AM. Some of your loudest laughs and happiest moments will take place inside.
11) Roadtrip. Best idea ever.
12) Remember your roots, but don't be afraid to grow new branches.
13) Take at least one class a year that has nothing to do with your major. And audit something that does but you don't necessarily need - you'll enjoy it more and apply it better.
14) Keep playing bass. Chicks will dig that.
15) Go to concerts but never, EVER wear a tshirt for the band playing, or a band you saw playing with the band playing.
16) Take complete and total advantage of being a student. Things are cheaper and easier because the world feels bad that you have to spend hours a day studying instead of working. Truth is, most of us no longer in school wish we still were so no pity should be involved. That being said - go on the trips offered, and take the discounts available.
17) Don't fall in love in the first 2 years.
18) Don't be afraid to ask for help. In life, in class, in any challenge you encounter. No one expects you to go at this world alone and people are generally willing to help if they know you need it.
19) Life never ever ever works out like you planned. Stop putting energy into planning it and start being ready to just live whatever is thrown your way.
20) You are loved.
And above all else, study hard and have fun. Blink and it will all be over. These will be some of the best years of your life, but only if you never take yourself all that seriously.
Of course, to me, you will always be my little Evie-Boo-Boo, lover of M&Ms, fly-feet, Trains Planes and Automobiles, and Buzz Lightyear.
Roll Tide Roll,
Your Big Sis
I don't like to make pointless guarantees and empty promises, but mark my words: today is a Very. Big. Day. First and foremost, congratulations on making it 18 years without choking or being choked by our darling parents. No one else on the planet understands this feat quite like I do.
Ten years ago, we parked cargo van in our front yard, and loaded it with suitcases and yaffa blocks, coordinating sheets and throw rugs, communal bathroom supplies, an 8 year old you and an 18 year old me. I can't believe it's your turn, though something tells me your move to college will be much simpler and less dramatic. (But that's pretty much par for the course, and a key difference between you and me.) Speaking as the elder sibling, I'd now like to load you up with some advice that will help you navigate through the next four years (and probably beyond) successfully.
1) Parties are great. DDs are better.
2) Speaking of drinking, the myths are true. Tequila is always bad, but especially if the night began with Natty Light.
3) Speaking of Natty Light, always spend the extra money for better beer.
4) Enough about drinking. Go to class. Seriously. Go to class.
5) No one works best under pressure. It's just a lie we all tell ourselves so we don't feel quite so pathetic for procrastinating.
6) Make new friends. Don't forget about the ones you already have, but make new ones, too.
(Sidebar: Mom just called as they drove home. They're child-free for the first time in 28 years. Let the celebrating AND the empty nest syndrome set in.)
7) Speaking of Mom calling, call her. She won't hover, but she will be curious what you're up to and it would be nice if you'd update her.
8) I am deeply jealous of you for going to a big university. Make the most of it. Promise me you'll go to as many football games as possible, when you're not busy running circles around the other track kids.
9) Please don't let your room, or especially your bathroom, smell like dude. Trust me, it's not manly. It's just gross. And for the love, change your sheets regularly - has Dad ever told you about his first college roommate?
10) Find the perfect greasy spoon, open 24 hours a day diner/coffee shop/whatever. Visit at least once a month, preferably between 11 PM and 3 AM. Some of your loudest laughs and happiest moments will take place inside.
11) Roadtrip. Best idea ever.
12) Remember your roots, but don't be afraid to grow new branches.
13) Take at least one class a year that has nothing to do with your major. And audit something that does but you don't necessarily need - you'll enjoy it more and apply it better.
14) Keep playing bass. Chicks will dig that.
15) Go to concerts but never, EVER wear a tshirt for the band playing, or a band you saw playing with the band playing.
16) Take complete and total advantage of being a student. Things are cheaper and easier because the world feels bad that you have to spend hours a day studying instead of working. Truth is, most of us no longer in school wish we still were so no pity should be involved. That being said - go on the trips offered, and take the discounts available.
17) Don't fall in love in the first 2 years.
18) Don't be afraid to ask for help. In life, in class, in any challenge you encounter. No one expects you to go at this world alone and people are generally willing to help if they know you need it.
19) Life never ever ever works out like you planned. Stop putting energy into planning it and start being ready to just live whatever is thrown your way.
20) You are loved.
And above all else, study hard and have fun. Blink and it will all be over. These will be some of the best years of your life, but only if you never take yourself all that seriously.
Of course, to me, you will always be my little Evie-Boo-Boo, lover of M&Ms, fly-feet, Trains Planes and Automobiles, and Buzz Lightyear.
Roll Tide Roll,
Your Big Sis
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Rock on, rock on with your fashionable frown
Despite what my previous post may have suggested, I'm fine. Not crushed or depressed or in a bad place or anything. I mostly just needed to vent and to remember cliches are overused for a reason and that I'm not the only one who's ever felt this way and that I (hopefully) won't feel like this forever.
Oh and also, that no man is worth the tears and the one who is won't make me cry. Whoops. Sorry. Had to slide one more in.
I've rejoined both match.com and okcupid recently. And this time I think I'll be a little more open to dating for the sake of dating than dating for the sake of sensing immediate sparks, getting married, and having babies. Safer approach, yes?
Work is insane right now. Not bad, just busy. (And if it's like this now, I'm a little terrified for November/December.) I have a 60 hour week waiting in the wings, and at first I was nervous but if I just focus and take it day by day, I'm pretty sure it won't be the end of the world. Instead of eating like crap and not exercising enough, I've decided to up the yoga to twice a day and try a new diet. Don't worry, nothing quick, no fads. Just a really basic, simple, common sense approach. You see, I went to the doctor and she recommended a little something called the Rainbow Diet. The key thing to remember? White isn't anywhere in the rainbow. So, no white bread, sugar, salt, etc. She also recommended I cut back on my dairy intake which...well. I refuse to ever stop eating cheese but ok, I can eliminate a little milk and yogurt if I have to. She wants me on rice or almond milk, neither of which I'm crazy about, so we're compromising on one serving of soymilk a day.
Best part? She told me, specifically, to eat a lot of pineapple. Confused? Please direct your attention to the web address of this very blog. Yup. Eat a lot of pineapple? I got this, Doc. I'm a little concerned that the diet is relatively fruit heavy and lacking in veggies, protein and carbs but...we'll see? I'm pretty sure eating lettuce, fresh fruit, and chicken all week isn't exactly going to make me gain.
For the first time in my life, I have been silent for over 24 hours by my own choice. (I've done it several times before due to necessity, or double-dog dares.) It's been lovely. I think I'm going to enforce one Mute Sunday per month, in addition to the No Pants Sunday rule already very much present each week. Mmmmm. Good idea, me.
Oh and also, that no man is worth the tears and the one who is won't make me cry. Whoops. Sorry. Had to slide one more in.
I've rejoined both match.com and okcupid recently. And this time I think I'll be a little more open to dating for the sake of dating than dating for the sake of sensing immediate sparks, getting married, and having babies. Safer approach, yes?
Work is insane right now. Not bad, just busy. (And if it's like this now, I'm a little terrified for November/December.) I have a 60 hour week waiting in the wings, and at first I was nervous but if I just focus and take it day by day, I'm pretty sure it won't be the end of the world. Instead of eating like crap and not exercising enough, I've decided to up the yoga to twice a day and try a new diet. Don't worry, nothing quick, no fads. Just a really basic, simple, common sense approach. You see, I went to the doctor and she recommended a little something called the Rainbow Diet. The key thing to remember? White isn't anywhere in the rainbow. So, no white bread, sugar, salt, etc. She also recommended I cut back on my dairy intake which...well. I refuse to ever stop eating cheese but ok, I can eliminate a little milk and yogurt if I have to. She wants me on rice or almond milk, neither of which I'm crazy about, so we're compromising on one serving of soymilk a day.
Best part? She told me, specifically, to eat a lot of pineapple. Confused? Please direct your attention to the web address of this very blog. Yup. Eat a lot of pineapple? I got this, Doc. I'm a little concerned that the diet is relatively fruit heavy and lacking in veggies, protein and carbs but...we'll see? I'm pretty sure eating lettuce, fresh fruit, and chicken all week isn't exactly going to make me gain.
For the first time in my life, I have been silent for over 24 hours by my own choice. (I've done it several times before due to necessity, or double-dog dares.) It's been lovely. I think I'm going to enforce one Mute Sunday per month, in addition to the No Pants Sunday rule already very much present each week. Mmmmm. Good idea, me.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
I could really use a wish right now.
In the wake of my most recent boy-crazy fueled disaster (seriously, why do I even bother believing anymore?) I've had a whole slew of words of wisdom, friends' advice, song lyrics and cliches running rampant through my head. Of course, seeing that I'm the one home alone with my cat on a Saturday night, wearing a t-shirt I've had at least 10 years, eating Chinese takeout, watching chick flicks and brooding over my stupid mouth, I guess I'm the real cliche here.
And now I'm going to put all these words and lyrics out into the world in hopes they're true and I'll listen next time. Hell, here's hoping I'll listen THIS time, as I'm not exactly out of the woods just yet.
love hurts
love bites
I find a fatal flaw in the logic of love
Love is never having to say you're sorry
Everything happens for a reason
How many times can I break till I shatter?
Time heals all wounds
But time takes time, you know?
You're better off without him
Boy, you're better off with me in your head.
He doesn't deserve you
It'll happen when it happens
I just haven't met you yet.
He's just not that into you.
Shit happens
I'm tired of being alone. So hurry up and get here.
Whatever will be, will be
Let it be.
It is what it is
Let it ride. Let it roll, let it go.
Love many, trust few, and always paddle your own canoe.
love conquers all
Love conquers all
Love conquers all
Love conquers all.
(Never say never.)
And when you figure out love is all that matters after all, it sure makes everything else seem so small.
The funny thing about hope is that it's inextinguishable.
You see, sometimes I'm a woman and sometimes, a mess.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
So this old world must still be spinning ' round - And I still love you.
I've done practiced yoga 5 times in the past 3 days. This clearly makes me an expert, so now I will share what I know with you.
1) I don't like Kundalini Yoga because it appears to be everything non-yogis use to make fun of yoga. I dunno. "Fire breathing" doesn't really make me feel like I've accomplished anything in my day, or workout.
2) Yoga by candlelight? Awesome idea right before bed. I fell right asleep without my usual wandering mind, slept soundly up to my alarm, and woke up easily and well rested with good intentions for the day.
3) Do people have good bodies because they do yoga, or do people do yoga because they have good bodies? I mean, even though I sweated and shook the whole time and I'm sore afterwards...did I get a workout? Is this going to work?
4) Apparently, all I needed for motivation was a hot pink yoga mat with lotus flowers. Observe. Why in the world does this pretty thing excite me so?
5) Post yoga, I have the flexibility, durability, capability and desire to sit entirely still and reflect for up to 10 minutes. And I think 10 minutes of Alison-time is easily like 30 of most other peoples'.
But really what I mostly know and like about yoga is that you practice it. Everyone, every time. Whether you've been a yogi for 30 years, or 3 days, you practice yoga. You're not doing yoga, running to yoga, stressing over yoga, working out with yoga, taking care of yoga or any other verb which suggests something difficult is being done. You're just..practicing. So you can't fail. It's almost entirely foolproof, which makes it like a big comfortable hammock, begging for company, ready to sway and surround you. I wish I could practice more things in my life. I wish if I messed up at work I could say "that's ok - just practicing!" or if I accidentally offended someone I could respond "sorry! practicing!" or if (when) I made myself look like an ass I could soothe me with "it's ok! you're only practicing!" Because everyone knows when you're practicing something, you're allowed to make mistakes.
And though it sounds entirely hokey, my other favorite part of yoga is a message I've read many times and ways in the past week - be compassionate with yourself.
(Which I am currently practicing.)
1) I don't like Kundalini Yoga because it appears to be everything non-yogis use to make fun of yoga. I dunno. "Fire breathing" doesn't really make me feel like I've accomplished anything in my day, or workout.
2) Yoga by candlelight? Awesome idea right before bed. I fell right asleep without my usual wandering mind, slept soundly up to my alarm, and woke up easily and well rested with good intentions for the day.
3) Do people have good bodies because they do yoga, or do people do yoga because they have good bodies? I mean, even though I sweated and shook the whole time and I'm sore afterwards...did I get a workout? Is this going to work?
4) Apparently, all I needed for motivation was a hot pink yoga mat with lotus flowers. Observe. Why in the world does this pretty thing excite me so?5) Post yoga, I have the flexibility, durability, capability and desire to sit entirely still and reflect for up to 10 minutes. And I think 10 minutes of Alison-time is easily like 30 of most other peoples'.
But really what I mostly know and like about yoga is that you practice it. Everyone, every time. Whether you've been a yogi for 30 years, or 3 days, you practice yoga. You're not doing yoga, running to yoga, stressing over yoga, working out with yoga, taking care of yoga or any other verb which suggests something difficult is being done. You're just..practicing. So you can't fail. It's almost entirely foolproof, which makes it like a big comfortable hammock, begging for company, ready to sway and surround you. I wish I could practice more things in my life. I wish if I messed up at work I could say "that's ok - just practicing!" or if I accidentally offended someone I could respond "sorry! practicing!" or if (when) I made myself look like an ass I could soothe me with "it's ok! you're only practicing!" Because everyone knows when you're practicing something, you're allowed to make mistakes.
And though it sounds entirely hokey, my other favorite part of yoga is a message I've read many times and ways in the past week - be compassionate with yourself.
(Which I am currently practicing.)
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
I'm in the wrong story.
Something that makes me giggle...
Megan and I name articles of clothing after the foods and beverages we spill on them. (Even long after we've washed and de-stained them.)
Actual conversations in our apartment go a little something like this:
"What should I wear tonight?"
"Sweet tea vodka dress? Or soy sauce shorts?"
"Hmm. Maybe. Are you going to wear your pizza pants?"
"Only if my cacciatore top is clean."
This post has no point or relevance. But it sure beats the whiny, is anybody ever going to love me and am I ever going to change my abundance of flaws? post that's been simmering between my brain and fingertips for days now...
I think I'm about to start investing in yoga classes because I need balance and a relatively secure location to spend a couple hours a week not being a spazz. Except I'm terrified to actually go take yoga, because what if I accidentally fart while in downward facing dog? It's a truly logical phobia.
Megan and I name articles of clothing after the foods and beverages we spill on them. (Even long after we've washed and de-stained them.)
Actual conversations in our apartment go a little something like this:
"What should I wear tonight?"
"Sweet tea vodka dress? Or soy sauce shorts?"
"Hmm. Maybe. Are you going to wear your pizza pants?"
"Only if my cacciatore top is clean."
This post has no point or relevance. But it sure beats the whiny, is anybody ever going to love me and am I ever going to change my abundance of flaws? post that's been simmering between my brain and fingertips for days now...
I think I'm about to start investing in yoga classes because I need balance and a relatively secure location to spend a couple hours a week not being a spazz. Except I'm terrified to actually go take yoga, because what if I accidentally fart while in downward facing dog? It's a truly logical phobia.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Tell me how to win your heart, for I haven't got a clue.
Earlier this week, John Mayer posted a blog. My darling friend Jenn read the blog, thought me of, and brightened my day with it and some kind words. And it got me thinking, so now I’m going to blab to you. Well, first I’ll let Mr. Mayer babble and then I’ll take over.
I wish that when I was younger I could have met my current self. We would have sat down at a coffee shop so that I could explain life to young me in terms that only we would understand. It would have saved me a lot of hardship…
People want to be liked. We all crave attention and affection and we all reject shame. When we get embarrassed we send a thug version of ourselves to the forefront to do our fighting for us. We’re at the top of the food chain just under fear. We don’t want to be in a relationship to hear the words “I love you,” we want to be in a relationship to say the words “I love you.” We want to feel needed, and exceptional and we hate feeling insignificant. We want to ace a hearing test. We are binary creatures; if we’re the plaintiff, we want to win every dollar. If we’re the defendant, we want guard every penny. We want to make more money than last year. We don’t want to get cancer or die in our cars and we want the same for our loved ones. We go out on weekends to try and have sex while trying not to get punched in the face. We drink so we can be ourselves and not mind it so much. We’re desperate to be understood. We want to know someone else has felt it, too. We hate being judged unfairly. We want to make the person we heard wasn’t all that into us change their minds and admit they had us wrong. We want sunny skies with a chance of killer tornadoes, just to keep music sounding good. We take hours upon hours to admit to self consciousness. We don’t know exactly how to pleasure each other. We just want love. In any and every form.
Last weekend, I went down to Birmingham for my 10-year high school reunion. I’ve been planning on going to my reunion since before I even graduated from good old Mountain Brook. Somehow, I knew I’d be a better Alison with some age and wisdom, wardrobe tips and makeup tricks. I realized a couple years ago that my friends and I had all begun to magically grow into who we always were and just didn’t quite know how to be during those awkward teen years.
I wish that when I was younger I could have met my current self. I probably would have slapped myself silly. Reminded me that there really is something to that whole “life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans” talk. I would have tough loved the crap out of myself. Buck up, little chippy. It’s not so bad. STOP POUTING. BE HAPPY. I think one of the absolute truths about life and the world and people is that misery, shame, unhappiness, and things bad, dirty and grungy all manifest from self-loathing and doubt. I wish that when I was younger I could have met my current self because that’s the one major lesson younger me could have stood to learn much earlier in life. Those boys weren’t making fun of my weight; they were burying their own flaws. Those girls weren’t picking on my clothes; they were apologizing for their own inabilities to find looks not spoon-fed from magazines and billboards. Those people weren’t being cruel because I was an awful person; they were being cruel because they were afraid they might be awful people.
I wish that when I was younger, I could have met my current self. Current me could have reminded younger me that if someone is being mean, they probably just need a hug. (Or some chocolate milk. Maybe a nap.) Current me could have reminded younger me that the hardest but most worthwhile thing to do is love someone through the flaws and in spite of the pain. Current me could have reminded younger me that broken hearts do in fact heal and are often times stronger and more capable than they were before. Current me could have reminded younger me that energy is best spent living life instead of planning it. (Because plans do fall apart, but life typically keeps on moving.)
But perhaps it’s best that younger me had to muddle through on her own because we all know that no one actually listens to their elders and lessons are best when experienced instead of taught. The funny thing about life is you can’t ever really go back; you’re here, and eventually, you’ll get there. And if you’re lucky like me, you’ll get there with an abundance of friends and some really funny stories sprinkled in.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
So here I go with all my thoughts I've been saving. So here I go with all my fears, weighing on me
So here we are. 27 coming to a close, 28 ready to begin.
For the past few weeks, I've been mourning the change from a "mid-twenty-something" (shut up, I'm on a cusp) to a very official "late twenty-something"and I can't say I've been coping with anything that resembles grace. I just didn't feel ready. Frankly, I don't feel like I accomplished much of anything as a 27 year old, so I didn't find it all that fair to be pushed to the next phase with neither medal nor merit. And until about 3 hours ago, I had banned the use of the words "Happy Birthday" or "28" from my friends' vocabulary on or around July 2nd. They were to call it Alison Appreciation Day and they could celebrate my existence but not my birth. (Because let's face it - when am I ever going to give up an opportunity to be center of attention??)
And then today it hit me. What in the world am I clinging to 27 for? It wasn't exactly a stellar year. Why not give it up, move on, embrace 28 and the hope and change it will certainly bring? Let's review.
While 27 years of age, I did NOT:
Fall in or out of love (or have my heart broken)
Receive a promotion (though I did get way better at my current position)
Pull myself out of my continuing financial black hole (though I didn't make it worse, either)
Visit Birmingham (yet there was time for ATL, CLT, and Italy and Paris)
Lose anyone especially close to me (but rest in peace, Cami-dog)
Audition enough (but I did get cast in one thing!)
Get any smaller, healthier, or into better shape (at least I didn't gain much, either)
Make any major life decisions or changes (seriously. I did well to get out of bed some days)
Or learn, grow or create enough. (That's what 28 will be for)
Ok, so the year was a bit blah and mundane. Great. That much easier to move on and say, HEY, LIFE. SPICIER, PLEASE. MARINATE MY SOUL IN AMAZING THINGS. And for some reason I'm actually still crazy enough to believe, just like every year, that this time next year things will actually be different.
For the past few weeks, I've been mourning the change from a "mid-twenty-something" (shut up, I'm on a cusp) to a very official "late twenty-something"and I can't say I've been coping with anything that resembles grace. I just didn't feel ready. Frankly, I don't feel like I accomplished much of anything as a 27 year old, so I didn't find it all that fair to be pushed to the next phase with neither medal nor merit. And until about 3 hours ago, I had banned the use of the words "Happy Birthday" or "28" from my friends' vocabulary on or around July 2nd. They were to call it Alison Appreciation Day and they could celebrate my existence but not my birth. (Because let's face it - when am I ever going to give up an opportunity to be center of attention??)
And then today it hit me. What in the world am I clinging to 27 for? It wasn't exactly a stellar year. Why not give it up, move on, embrace 28 and the hope and change it will certainly bring? Let's review.
While 27 years of age, I did NOT:
Fall in or out of love (or have my heart broken)
Receive a promotion (though I did get way better at my current position)
Pull myself out of my continuing financial black hole (though I didn't make it worse, either)
Visit Birmingham (yet there was time for ATL, CLT, and Italy and Paris)
Lose anyone especially close to me (but rest in peace, Cami-dog)
Audition enough (but I did get cast in one thing!)
Get any smaller, healthier, or into better shape (at least I didn't gain much, either)
Make any major life decisions or changes (seriously. I did well to get out of bed some days)
Or learn, grow or create enough. (That's what 28 will be for)
Ok, so the year was a bit blah and mundane. Great. That much easier to move on and say, HEY, LIFE. SPICIER, PLEASE. MARINATE MY SOUL IN AMAZING THINGS. And for some reason I'm actually still crazy enough to believe, just like every year, that this time next year things will actually be different.
Friday, June 18, 2010
You can't stop the motion of the ocean or the sun in the sky
Since I have a super cool job, our Manager of all things Internet-related asked me to compile a little opinion essay on the Tonys. Keep in mind this is toned down a little bit for a mass audience read, but here are more or less my opinions of last Sunday night.
The Tonys are my Christmas and my New Year’s and my 4th of July Fireworks. They’re my Super Bowl, my World Cup, my World Series. They’re the hot fudge on my sundae, the sizzle on my steak, the apple of my eye, the skip in my step, the bee’s knees and the cat’s meow, whiskers and pajamas. I’ve loved the Tonys since somewhere around age 8 and have looked forward to that faithful Sunday each June when I could tune into a national broadcast focused entirely on theatre. And now here I am, living in the middle of it all, seeing these shows in real life, formulating informed predictions and opinions.
I love the Tonys.
Until this year. Producers, you let me down, both in execution and insistence upon roping Hollywood into our night. But enough about that. Let’s focus on the good, shall we?
The good: ScarJo’s camera moments also provided ample face time for Ryan Reynolds AND co-star Liev Shreiber. Cue much more, but seemingly calmer, shrieking.
Before I could wallow into a pool of too much ScarJo success scorn, the men of Million Dollar Quartet took the stage began to wail (in a good way) and I was happy again. And then Eddie Redmayne won a Tony for his performance in Red, so I was happier still. And then Katie Finneran of Promises, Promises and Levi Kreis of Million Dollar Quartet joined the winner’s circle and I sat on the couch positively beaming. Performances from the casts of Fela, Ragtime, La Cage aux Folles and Memphis brought on more beaming, clapping, and shrieking. (My poor roommates.)
And then Football star Mark Sanchez took the stage and again, I groaned in the producer’s general direction for being so transparent in their attempt for ratings but then actual theatrical people like Angela Lansbury and David Hyde Pierce and Kelsey Grammar, and much later in the show Bernadette Peters and Bebe Neuwirth and Nathan Lane all made me happy once more. And then, more groaning, as Catherine Zeta Jones not only butchered a Sondheim classic but somehow wrestled the Tony away from Memphis’ deserving Montego Glover. Then hit TV show Glee's Matthew Morrison and Lea Michele reminded American they were Broadway Babies before being TV's newest darlings.
And in honor of our big winner, Memphis: HOCKADOO!
The Tonys are my Christmas and my New Year’s and my 4th of July Fireworks. They’re my Super Bowl, my World Cup, my World Series. They’re the hot fudge on my sundae, the sizzle on my steak, the apple of my eye, the skip in my step, the bee’s knees and the cat’s meow, whiskers and pajamas. I’ve loved the Tonys since somewhere around age 8 and have looked forward to that faithful Sunday each June when I could tune into a national broadcast focused entirely on theatre. And now here I am, living in the middle of it all, seeing these shows in real life, formulating informed predictions and opinions.
I love the Tonys.
Until this year. Producers, you let me down, both in execution and insistence upon roping Hollywood into our night. But enough about that. Let’s focus on the good, shall we?
Production cracks aside, the opening number showed off the talent to come, and I appreciated the concept. (The screeching 14 year old inside me probably loved Green Day’s appearance. Probably.) Sean Hayes gave an adorable opening monologue, helped along by the even more adorable Kristin Chenoweth and it was onto the first award of the broadcast.
The bad: Scarlett Johansson somehow managed to win the award and oust Broadway darling Jan Maxwell from Lend Me a Tenor. Cue panic and shrieking.
The good: ScarJo’s camera moments also provided ample face time for Ryan Reynolds AND co-star Liev Shreiber. Cue much more, but seemingly calmer, shrieking.
Before I could wallow into a pool of too much ScarJo success scorn, the men of Million Dollar Quartet took the stage began to wail (in a good way) and I was happy again. And then Eddie Redmayne won a Tony for his performance in Red, so I was happier still. And then Katie Finneran of Promises, Promises and Levi Kreis of Million Dollar Quartet joined the winner’s circle and I sat on the couch positively beaming. Performances from the casts of Fela, Ragtime, La Cage aux Folles and Memphis brought on more beaming, clapping, and shrieking. (My poor roommates.)
And then Football star Mark Sanchez took the stage and again, I groaned in the producer’s general direction for being so transparent in their attempt for ratings but then actual theatrical people like Angela Lansbury and David Hyde Pierce and Kelsey Grammar, and much later in the show Bernadette Peters and Bebe Neuwirth and Nathan Lane all made me happy once more. And then, more groaning, as Catherine Zeta Jones not only butchered a Sondheim classic but somehow wrestled the Tony away from Memphis’ deserving Montego Glover. Then hit TV show Glee's Matthew Morrison and Lea Michele reminded American they were Broadway Babies before being TV's newest darlings.
And though I’d picked Alfred Molina for Best Actor in a play, I knew it would be a close race between him and Denzel Washington, so I cannot claim surprise or disappointment. At least I pegged Viola Davis for Fences and Douglas Hodge for La Cage aux Folles correctly.
Before I knew it (and after the American Idiot cast delivered yet another phenomenal performance and Spiderman graced the stage) it was time for Red and Memphis to take home the evening’s final Tonys. I’m not sure what made me happier: the fact that two deserving shows brought in so much recognition, or the fact that of the 26 categories up for grabs, I correctly predicted 19 winners. But seriously, next year let’s leave the West Coast out of this, hire new sound and camera crews and have a better go, ok?
And in honor of our big winner, Memphis: HOCKADOO!
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