I started the week by getting my adrenaline going at a kick-ass concert.
I got a visit from some old and dear friends.
I met some new people.
I watched and listened to the rain.
I continued to dream and pray and hope for more, for better.
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Friday, March 27, 2009
Friday it is
Week in review:
I started the week by getting my adrenaline going at a kick-ass concert.
I got a visit from some old and dear friends.
I met some new people.
I watched and listened to the rain.
I continued to dream and pray and hope for more, for better.
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I started the week by getting my adrenaline going at a kick-ass concert.
I got a visit from some old and dear friends.
I met some new people.
I watched and listened to the rain.
I continued to dream and pray and hope for more, for better.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Ponce de Leon Ave. - Butch Walker does Raleigh
At 6:30 a line of die-hard fans had already rooted themselves to the pavement leading to the door of the Lincoln Theatre in downtown Raleigh on this Monday night. Lincoln Theatre is a small box of a venue with a mural splattered on one side of a hot rod Lincoln with none other than the other Lincoln -- Abe himself -- seated inside. The venue is oddly located, next to no other clubs or bars or even restaurants or shops. It sits essentially alone on its block on Cabarrus Street, a parking deck looming across the street and the peaks of tall downtown skyscrapers peeping over top.
At 6:30 on a Monday in March, dusk had yet to settle in, and so joining the queue of music lovers seemed a little strange in the daylight. For me, I've always equated shows with night, as though I need the envelope of darkness to satisfy my secret craving for music. But with my sister and some of my oldest and best friends I took my place in line and felt the surge of anticipation move through my veins like it always does when I go to a show.
At 6:30, standing in this line, with some of my favorite people in the world, I snapped pictures, freezing the moment in time. I scuffed my feet on the pavement. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and grinned.
And at 7 p.m., the doors opened. The crowd filed through the doors, past the merchandise tables, past the bar selling overpriced bottles of beer and to the small floor in front of the small stage. I took more pictures, drank a beer, laughed, fell into the moment.
And at some point, after I gave up looking at the time, Butch Walker walked onto the stage and seated himself at the piano, pounding out an emotional rendering of the beautiful ballad "ATL." He sang his heart out for about an hour and a half, showcasing his talent on the ivories, as well with a guitar and even the drums.
In skinny blue jeans, a brown leather vest and a Native American-esque clunky silver necklace, he looked every bit the rock star. The gray knit cap he wore for the first few songs was doffed to reveal a mop of sweaty brown ringlets that clung to his face or swung about slinging sweat.
He poured sincerity into every song and delivered vocals that seemed practiced and as though from a throat well cared for, when in all likelihood his prescription is cigarettes and booze and late nights. A guitar that refused to remain in tune caused the singer some consternation, but he took it as an opportunity to joke with the crowd and reveal his trademark good nature.
His following may be small, but it's loyal, and his Raleigh fans demonstrated that, singing along with him, bouncing up and down, smiles plastered across their glistening faces.
They loved him and revered him when he did a sing-along version of "When Canyons Ruled the City" for a closer. Hands waved in the air, back and forth and back and forth. The crowd crooned, "na na na na, na na na." "That was awesome," Butch said in congratulations.
He played a number of tracks from his new album, "Sycamore Meadows," but he also threw in some old favorites. It was a good mix for a crowd of fans that likely equally love the old and the new. And one of the biggest hits of the night was a cover of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer." Butch sang, the crowd sang too, and I'm pretty sure Elton would've been proud.
At 6:30 on a Monday in March, dusk had yet to settle in, and so joining the queue of music lovers seemed a little strange in the daylight. For me, I've always equated shows with night, as though I need the envelope of darkness to satisfy my secret craving for music. But with my sister and some of my oldest and best friends I took my place in line and felt the surge of anticipation move through my veins like it always does when I go to a show.
At 6:30, standing in this line, with some of my favorite people in the world, I snapped pictures, freezing the moment in time. I scuffed my feet on the pavement. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and grinned.
And at 7 p.m., the doors opened. The crowd filed through the doors, past the merchandise tables, past the bar selling overpriced bottles of beer and to the small floor in front of the small stage. I took more pictures, drank a beer, laughed, fell into the moment.
And at some point, after I gave up looking at the time, Butch Walker walked onto the stage and seated himself at the piano, pounding out an emotional rendering of the beautiful ballad "ATL." He sang his heart out for about an hour and a half, showcasing his talent on the ivories, as well with a guitar and even the drums.
In skinny blue jeans, a brown leather vest and a Native American-esque clunky silver necklace, he looked every bit the rock star. The gray knit cap he wore for the first few songs was doffed to reveal a mop of sweaty brown ringlets that clung to his face or swung about slinging sweat.
He poured sincerity into every song and delivered vocals that seemed practiced and as though from a throat well cared for, when in all likelihood his prescription is cigarettes and booze and late nights. A guitar that refused to remain in tune caused the singer some consternation, but he took it as an opportunity to joke with the crowd and reveal his trademark good nature.
His following may be small, but it's loyal, and his Raleigh fans demonstrated that, singing along with him, bouncing up and down, smiles plastered across their glistening faces.
They loved him and revered him when he did a sing-along version of "When Canyons Ruled the City" for a closer. Hands waved in the air, back and forth and back and forth. The crowd crooned, "na na na na, na na na." "That was awesome," Butch said in congratulations.
He played a number of tracks from his new album, "Sycamore Meadows," but he also threw in some old favorites. It was a good mix for a crowd of fans that likely equally love the old and the new. And one of the biggest hits of the night was a cover of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer." Butch sang, the crowd sang too, and I'm pretty sure Elton would've been proud.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Grind it, brew it, smell it, drink it
Melodies of angsty indie bands and lovesick guys with guitars weave in and out of and over the conversations of college students.
"Did you see my facebook status?"
"Okay, this is cram central guys."
"The homework is due when?"
The rich aroma of coffee lingers. Wooden tables hold outrageously-priced cups of White Chocolate Mocha and Chai Lattes and books splayed open and wrinkled sheets of notebook paper. Laptops sit open-faced, giving off their blue-ish glow. Fingers type furiously the English papers, the physics homework, the love letters, the instant messages.
The tentacles of iPods reach up to ears that don't want to hear the conversations or the angsty indie bands or the lovesick guitar guys. The dress code is simple: hoodies, t-shirts, jeans.
Welcome to your local university coffee house. The House Blend is on special.
"Did you see my facebook status?"
"Okay, this is cram central guys."
"The homework is due when?"
The rich aroma of coffee lingers. Wooden tables hold outrageously-priced cups of White Chocolate Mocha and Chai Lattes and books splayed open and wrinkled sheets of notebook paper. Laptops sit open-faced, giving off their blue-ish glow. Fingers type furiously the English papers, the physics homework, the love letters, the instant messages.
The tentacles of iPods reach up to ears that don't want to hear the conversations or the angsty indie bands or the lovesick guitar guys. The dress code is simple: hoodies, t-shirts, jeans.
Welcome to your local university coffee house. The House Blend is on special.
I Want a Sunday Kind of Love
So, it's Sunday. Which is awesome. Because I've got my coffee. And my slow start to the day. And my conversations with God. And it's sunny.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
American Idol, what what
So, love me, hate me, judge me, whatever, I love me some American Idol. It's seriously an addiction for me. I really don't watch that much television, but each year, when Idol starts revving up, I'm on board once again.
I guess it's a mix of reasons that draws me: it's that I'm a lover of music (although some would argue that AI is NOT a program for music lovers) and can't get enough of it on any given day, it's that I'm a sucker and I want to learn about these wannabes and commiserate with them and hate them along with the rest of America and it's that it's entertaining.
Anyway, I wasn't the biggest fan of this year's group until they sang Grand Ole Opry tunes on Tuesday, and pretty much everyone stepped up his or her game big time and belted out some good stuff. I'm undecided as to who my overall favorite(s) is/are, but I am definitely lovin' me some Anoop Desai, Kris Allen, Allison Iraheta, Megan Joy Corkrey and Lil Rounds.
I was way excited when Kelly Clarkson was on the show the other day and sang her latest single, "My Life Would Suck Without You," which is so sickeningly pop through and through, but I LOVE it. And I was equally excited when Carrie Underwood was on the show last night to duet "I Told You So" with Randy Travis, and it was beautiful.
I think it's a pretty solid Top 10 this year. I'm looking forward to seeing how things go from here.
I guess it's a mix of reasons that draws me: it's that I'm a lover of music (although some would argue that AI is NOT a program for music lovers) and can't get enough of it on any given day, it's that I'm a sucker and I want to learn about these wannabes and commiserate with them and hate them along with the rest of America and it's that it's entertaining.
Anyway, I wasn't the biggest fan of this year's group until they sang Grand Ole Opry tunes on Tuesday, and pretty much everyone stepped up his or her game big time and belted out some good stuff. I'm undecided as to who my overall favorite(s) is/are, but I am definitely lovin' me some Anoop Desai, Kris Allen, Allison Iraheta, Megan Joy Corkrey and Lil Rounds.
I was way excited when Kelly Clarkson was on the show the other day and sang her latest single, "My Life Would Suck Without You," which is so sickeningly pop through and through, but I LOVE it. And I was equally excited when Carrie Underwood was on the show last night to duet "I Told You So" with Randy Travis, and it was beautiful.
I think it's a pretty solid Top 10 this year. I'm looking forward to seeing how things go from here.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Here Comes the Sun...maybe
As much as I loathe the hot, hot, hot that's inevitable of summers in the South, I do find myself longing, at least, for the warmth of spring. Spring taunted us with a sneak preview of its warmth and wonder recently, and it's left me aching for more.
Weekend before last, the sky morphed in shade to a brilliant blue I can't recall having seen for quite some time. Sun pierced through and, like a drug, it pulled dozens of men and women and boys and girls to the same park at which I sought freedom from the winter blues.
It was perfect. Temperatures warmed the skin as they soared into the 80s, and breezes swept through the trees, as if on cue, just when it started to feel a little too warm.
I spent parts of both Saturday and Sunday afternoons, weekend before last, lazing about at the park. I collapsed onto a park bench and drifted away to the songs on my iPod and then I stretched out on the steep grassy side of a dam, begging the sun to kiss my winter white skin. Then the next day, I spread out a blanket next to the water and read Faulkner. I felt very poetic.
Please spring, do come back.
Weekend before last, the sky morphed in shade to a brilliant blue I can't recall having seen for quite some time. Sun pierced through and, like a drug, it pulled dozens of men and women and boys and girls to the same park at which I sought freedom from the winter blues.
It was perfect. Temperatures warmed the skin as they soared into the 80s, and breezes swept through the trees, as if on cue, just when it started to feel a little too warm.
I spent parts of both Saturday and Sunday afternoons, weekend before last, lazing about at the park. I collapsed onto a park bench and drifted away to the songs on my iPod and then I stretched out on the steep grassy side of a dam, begging the sun to kiss my winter white skin. Then the next day, I spread out a blanket next to the water and read Faulkner. I felt very poetic.
Please spring, do come back.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Life and death and all that's in between
I saw life at its pinnacle one day at the park, as sun streaked down from the sky between trees, glinting off the water of the lake that flows through it. Old men and women and teenagers and moms and dads and tots walked and bicycled and chased after jubilant dogs. The world was alive.
I saw death and felt the pain of it course through me and flow out of me via torrents of tears. A beloved mentor, friend, hero passed away, kissing cancer goodbye.
I reunited with some of the people who mean the most to me and simultaneously fostered new friendships.
To feel better, to feel normal, to take charge, I baked chocolate chip cookies, ran until my legs felt like rubber and sang at the top of my lungs.
I saw death and felt the pain of it course through me and flow out of me via torrents of tears. A beloved mentor, friend, hero passed away, kissing cancer goodbye.
I reunited with some of the people who mean the most to me and simultaneously fostered new friendships.
To feel better, to feel normal, to take charge, I baked chocolate chip cookies, ran until my legs felt like rubber and sang at the top of my lungs.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Blurring the lines
I like right angles. Straight lines. Symmetry. I like cleanliness, neatness, order. I often see the world in black and white and forget about the shades of gray. I shy away from messy, from chaos, from the uncertain.
I like pattern and predictability and consistency.
And yet, I'm starting to realize that the times I've felt most alive are when I allowed myself to draw outside the lines, to forget about structure and order.
The moments aren't always pretty or pristine but they've left a stamp imprinted deeply in my soul that leaves me starving for more.
...The nights I forgot what time it was and let the minutes slip away with friends and conversation and wild ideas.
...Surfing over a sea of hands, loud music blaring all around me.
...Saying the words that were oh-so-hard to articulate but unarguably necessary.
...Leaving the familiar behind and traveling to another country with four strangers for a month.
...Driving and driving and driving away, not really sure why, but loving every minute of it.
...Letting go of the rules and going for it.
...Standing on a stage, hundreds of people in front of me, watching, waiting.
...Entering a room, alone and scared but knowing what's on the other side will be worth it.
...Running all those miles with all those people until there was hardly any air left in my lungs.
...Reconnecting, even when it was painful.
...Shouldering a responsibility I doubted I could handle and proving to myself and the rest of the world that I could do it and do it well.
...Saying to your face all the things I needed to say.
...Not caring what anyone thinks.
I like pattern and predictability and consistency.
And yet, I'm starting to realize that the times I've felt most alive are when I allowed myself to draw outside the lines, to forget about structure and order.
The moments aren't always pretty or pristine but they've left a stamp imprinted deeply in my soul that leaves me starving for more.
...The nights I forgot what time it was and let the minutes slip away with friends and conversation and wild ideas.
...Surfing over a sea of hands, loud music blaring all around me.
...Saying the words that were oh-so-hard to articulate but unarguably necessary.
...Leaving the familiar behind and traveling to another country with four strangers for a month.
...Driving and driving and driving away, not really sure why, but loving every minute of it.
...Letting go of the rules and going for it.
...Standing on a stage, hundreds of people in front of me, watching, waiting.
...Entering a room, alone and scared but knowing what's on the other side will be worth it.
...Running all those miles with all those people until there was hardly any air left in my lungs.
...Reconnecting, even when it was painful.
...Shouldering a responsibility I doubted I could handle and proving to myself and the rest of the world that I could do it and do it well.
...Saying to your face all the things I needed to say.
...Not caring what anyone thinks.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Snowww
The world is white outside. It's beautiful. The earth, the trees, the shrubs, the houses, the automobiles, all burried under soft white powder. Snow covers things that are normal or ordinary or ugly and transforms them into works of art. The world is beautiful when it's painted white.
Snow hides the plain, the not pretty, the transgressions, and suddenly, magically, all is right with the world.
Snow hides the plain, the not pretty, the transgressions, and suddenly, magically, all is right with the world.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Accomplishments
What I have accomplished thus far this week:
-Got a hair cut.
-Found yet another super spiffy used bookstore.
-Put a good dent in C.S. Lewis' "Mere Christianity."
-Found a junkyard about 25 minutes away that would give me a new rim to replace the one I bent when my tire blew out on the interstate the other day. (I felt very brave doing this by myself. This counts as like two things accomplished this week.)
-Filled a couple trashcans with snotty tissues.
-Applied for a couple of really cool sounding jobs.
-Daydreamed about working at Rolling Stone (as usual) -- the ultimate really cool sounding job.
-Beat my own best soccer and ski slalom scores on the Wii fit. Started doing yogo on there as well.
I am seriously productive, people.
-Got a hair cut.
-Found yet another super spiffy used bookstore.
-Put a good dent in C.S. Lewis' "Mere Christianity."
-Found a junkyard about 25 minutes away that would give me a new rim to replace the one I bent when my tire blew out on the interstate the other day. (I felt very brave doing this by myself. This counts as like two things accomplished this week.)
-Filled a couple trashcans with snotty tissues.
-Applied for a couple of really cool sounding jobs.
-Daydreamed about working at Rolling Stone (as usual) -- the ultimate really cool sounding job.
-Beat my own best soccer and ski slalom scores on the Wii fit. Started doing yogo on there as well.
I am seriously productive, people.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Depression is starting to set in
I knew it would only be a matter of time before I started to doubt my self worth and wonder at my inability to become employed. Well, apparently four-ish weeks is sufficient.
The first week of joblessness was filled with Melanie-related wedding activities. The second week was oh-so-restful. The third I got lots accomplished and relished at being able to read a book whenever the hell I wanted to. The fourth, well, things started to get boring.
I am sick of job search sites and classifieds. I am sick of television. I am sick of wearing my PJs. Who knew that was even possible?
To my credit, I HAVE driven to see friends, finished several books, supplemented my wardrobe with some frivolous shopping and discovered some nifty used bookstores.
But seriously, I'm starting to go through job withdrawals. Somebody please hire me, ASAP.
The first week of joblessness was filled with Melanie-related wedding activities. The second week was oh-so-restful. The third I got lots accomplished and relished at being able to read a book whenever the hell I wanted to. The fourth, well, things started to get boring.
I am sick of job search sites and classifieds. I am sick of television. I am sick of wearing my PJs. Who knew that was even possible?
To my credit, I HAVE driven to see friends, finished several books, supplemented my wardrobe with some frivolous shopping and discovered some nifty used bookstores.
But seriously, I'm starting to go through job withdrawals. Somebody please hire me, ASAP.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Crystal clear
You know how sometimes in life you experience those moments of clarity? Through the rush of all the other chaos-laden moments, once in a while, a moment breaks free in which you can see something with certainty. You can see your future or you can see the outcome of a current situation or you can see the pitfalls of a bad decision or you can see through another person. Those moments of clarity make it all worthwhile.
When life tends to be one muddled, confusing script that I can't often decipher, I live for those moments when it all makes sense. Those moments that come fleetingly when I'm driving nowhere on a blue-sky day or when I'm sweating through another run or when I'm engrossed in a song.
I don't have it all figured out. I hope I never do. Life's too entertaining in all its uncertainty. But -- at least for this moment -- I feel better about where it's taking me.
When life tends to be one muddled, confusing script that I can't often decipher, I live for those moments when it all makes sense. Those moments that come fleetingly when I'm driving nowhere on a blue-sky day or when I'm sweating through another run or when I'm engrossed in a song.
I don't have it all figured out. I hope I never do. Life's too entertaining in all its uncertainty. But -- at least for this moment -- I feel better about where it's taking me.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Diggin' it
I bought some kick-ass CDs yesterday, feeding an addiction to music that's been latent lately but still yearning for some great tunes. I bought Zac Brown Band, Jason Mraz, The Fray, the Juno soundtrack and Beyonce -- sort of an odd assortment, I know. I like to think my music collection and tastes are a reflection of an eclectic personality. I like to think it means I'm deep.
Yeah, whatever...
I didn't even know until recently that I dug some Jason Mraz, but man I do. And Zac Brown has been a guilty pleasure here lately, but after listening to the CD I'm thinking of removing the guilty label. Juno's one of my fav movies and I've wanted the soundtrack forever. Not sure what took me so long to get it. The Fray is a mainstay for me. And seriously, don't judge me for digging some Beyonce. I have never been a B. fan, but lately, I don't know what's happened. I can't stop singing along to "If I Were a Boy," "Halo" and "Put a Ring on It." Seriously, whatever.
Yeah, whatever...
I didn't even know until recently that I dug some Jason Mraz, but man I do. And Zac Brown has been a guilty pleasure here lately, but after listening to the CD I'm thinking of removing the guilty label. Juno's one of my fav movies and I've wanted the soundtrack forever. Not sure what took me so long to get it. The Fray is a mainstay for me. And seriously, don't judge me for digging some Beyonce. I have never been a B. fan, but lately, I don't know what's happened. I can't stop singing along to "If I Were a Boy," "Halo" and "Put a Ring on It." Seriously, whatever.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
I hate
Pastrami and bologna and pepperoni and, well, most meat.
Long lines.
People who are fake.
Traffic.
Mushrooms.
Not knowing the outcome.
Pretenses and facades and coverups for who and what we really are.
Sad endings.
Losing touch. Forgetting.
Long lines.
People who are fake.
Traffic.
Mushrooms.
Not knowing the outcome.
Pretenses and facades and coverups for who and what we really are.
Sad endings.
Losing touch. Forgetting.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
What you can accomplish in a week
I've broken in a super comfy new pair of sweatpants.
I've made major headway in my latest novel.
I've reconnected to old soap opera friends I haven't seen in years.
I've rediscovered the joys of being lazy.
I've made major headway in my latest novel.
I've reconnected to old soap opera friends I haven't seen in years.
I've rediscovered the joys of being lazy.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
First full week
So, I've survived my first full week of unemployment. I must admit, it's strange. I mean, I know I brought joblessness on myself. I felt I had to leave a job fraught with issues that was quickly becoming a dead end for me and for my career. Sometimes in life you just feel the need to make tough decisions, choose paths with more obstacles. Knowing that, however, doesn't make it any easier.
I'm just hoping and praying something materializes soon. In the meantime, I'm getting some use out of the treadmill, becoming a world-class champion surfer of the Web and fine-tuning my skills in the kitchen. All very worthy feats, no?
I'm just hoping and praying something materializes soon. In the meantime, I'm getting some use out of the treadmill, becoming a world-class champion surfer of the Web and fine-tuning my skills in the kitchen. All very worthy feats, no?
Monday, February 2, 2009
So much can happen in a week
I left my job of the past three and a half years. I packed up my worldly possessions and moved from a place that I've grown to consider home. I choked my way through goodbyes I knew I'd one day have to make but tried to pretend I wouldn't. I turned in the keys to a little old house that's seen parties with friends, kisses with loved ones, movies on rainy days and laughter and heart-to hearts with a roommate that I'll cherish forever. I walked down the aisle in front of one of my best friends in the world and watched her marry an amazing man.
End scene.
End scene.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Arrivederci
"So long, farewell
Auf Wiedersehen, goodnight
I hate to go and leave this pretty sight
So long, farewell
Auf Wiedersehen, adieu
Adieu, adieu
To you and you and you"
How do you say goodbye so that it means something, so that it sticks? How do you say gooodbye after weeks and months and years have gone by? How do you say goodbye after so many memories have been made, so many good times have been had?
How do you say goodbye and not dissolve into a torrent of tears? How do you say goodbye while wondering if those you're saying it to will remember you years down the road?
How do you say goodbye when it kills you to leave?
Auf Wiedersehen, goodnight
I hate to go and leave this pretty sight
So long, farewell
Auf Wiedersehen, adieu
Adieu, adieu
To you and you and you"
How do you say goodbye so that it means something, so that it sticks? How do you say gooodbye after weeks and months and years have gone by? How do you say goodbye after so many memories have been made, so many good times have been had?
How do you say goodbye and not dissolve into a torrent of tears? How do you say goodbye while wondering if those you're saying it to will remember you years down the road?
How do you say goodbye when it kills you to leave?
Friday, January 23, 2009
Bachelorette parties, inaugurations and moving -- oh my!
I've been neglectful of my trusty ol' blog. But what can I say, life has been crazy. Ca-razy. Crazazy.
Let's see, there was a fun-filled, friend-filled bridal shower a couple weekends ago. Games, good brunch food, friends, presents.
Then there was a little bachelorette shindig for Mel in Myrtle Beach. Ten gals, a limo, some cheap champagne, coats and scarves and gloves and freezing temperatures, dinner at a swanky restaurant were all involved. Good times.
Oh and then there was this event on Jan. 20, a swearing-in of sorts for a pretty important guy. Traveled to D.C. to see our 44th president sworn in. Snagged a spot on the lawn of the Capitol up close and personal. Hobnobbed with Annie Leibovitz, Dustin Hoffman, Samuel L. Jackson, Don King. You know, the usual.
Whew.
Now, my house is filled with boxes and bags and clutter. I'm packing my life into cardboard and plastic and saying goodbye to the familiar.
Let's see, there was a fun-filled, friend-filled bridal shower a couple weekends ago. Games, good brunch food, friends, presents.
Then there was a little bachelorette shindig for Mel in Myrtle Beach. Ten gals, a limo, some cheap champagne, coats and scarves and gloves and freezing temperatures, dinner at a swanky restaurant were all involved. Good times.
Oh and then there was this event on Jan. 20, a swearing-in of sorts for a pretty important guy. Traveled to D.C. to see our 44th president sworn in. Snagged a spot on the lawn of the Capitol up close and personal. Hobnobbed with Annie Leibovitz, Dustin Hoffman, Samuel L. Jackson, Don King. You know, the usual.
Whew.
Now, my house is filled with boxes and bags and clutter. I'm packing my life into cardboard and plastic and saying goodbye to the familiar.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Full-blown stress has definitely set in. Two weeks left at work. Going to DC to cover the inauguration. Helping put together wedding-related festivities for BFF and beautiful bride Melanie. Trying to find a job, well, because I have only two weeks left at work. Not quite sure how I'm getting back from DC. Moving out of my house. Need boxes and movers and to start packing at some point in the near future. And did I mention I'm leaving my job in two weeks?
Monday, January 5, 2009
Happy 2009
The confetti has settled. The last notes of "Auld Lang Syne" have faded. The newfangled, twice-as-big, super fabulous ball has dropped and is now probably in its new display case.
Now what? What happens on Jan. 5? And the 6th? And the rest of the days?
I hope you have a plan in place that will get you through this year that has more substance than a resolution. I hope you have a fantastic, revolutionary 2009.
Now what? What happens on Jan. 5? And the 6th? And the rest of the days?
I hope you have a plan in place that will get you through this year that has more substance than a resolution. I hope you have a fantastic, revolutionary 2009.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
'09
In 2009, I will leave the job I've held for the past three and a half years, my first since graduating from college.
I will watch my roommate of the past three years and wonderful friend Melanie get married to a terrific man at the end of this month.
I will bid farewell to 25 and say hello to 26.
I will try in earnest to be a better person.
I will make mistakes and I will fail. But hopefully I'll come out a little better for it.
I will watch my roommate of the past three years and wonderful friend Melanie get married to a terrific man at the end of this month.
I will bid farewell to 25 and say hello to 26.
I will try in earnest to be a better person.
I will make mistakes and I will fail. But hopefully I'll come out a little better for it.
NYE
Auld lang syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld ang syne.
We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld ang syne.
We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
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