It's Wednesday morning, and I've been up and awake since 7:15am. There were plans of an oil change, doctor visits, a sort of rushy morning. However, there were leftovers from the paving project last night on my street, and they were blocking me into my driveway. Literally, a giant flatbed, sent to pick up and take away all the fancy paving equipment, blocking me into my abode.
So!
Instead of running errands and doing boring things, I've found myself taking it slow, sitting with my coffee, watching the sun come up over the neighborhood. I'm on my third cup, the cat and dog have been fed, I don't have anything to do until about 11am. The air conditioning has been on all night, and the house is the perfect kind of coolness, and I'm falling back in love with my house, with my neighborhood, with everything that's in between these four walls, with everything that is going to happen in the coming months. It's amazing the simple, unexpected things that make a day special.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
8
It's been rough this week...had my first urinary tract infection, which made life joyous, and then the meds I'm on for it made life even more joyous. I lost at the Mainstage Contest last night, lost a chance to play in front of a couple thousand people at the Taste of Chamblee. In all, it's been a damn fun week. However, friends make it a little easier. All the friends who showed up last night and cheered me on and made it fun, thank you. I love you for always standing behind me and pushing me on. Short post this week, maybe a second longer one later...happy Friday.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
7
I had coffee with a friend late last night at Caribou in midtown, and she made a comment about a mutual friend of ours being in a "transitional" stage of life. Things are changing, he's coming into himself, he's realizing what needs to be appreciated and what doesn't, and coming to terms with the surprises life holds.
It's happening a lot lately.
I feel like I've talked an awful lot about jobs and interviews and ideas these past weeks. But it's something giant in my life that changes daily, and interesting insights are always at hand. I've met with two of my Ogle professors, one last week, the other this morning at Starbucks. They know me better than any career coach ever could - they've seen me as a freshman, they've seen me win the Anne River Siddons award my senior year of college. They saw me play my music in public for the first time and they watched me walk across the stage wearing my cap and gown. They taught me how to write - creatively, critically, and everything in between. And no one can tell me my chances of being successful better than they can.
I came away from both meetings with ideas, a handful of contacts and a new resolve that I haven't felt in a long, long time. I think I'm ready now. I think I'm ready to take life by the horns and yank it around to face me. It's time to take control, get off the sidelines and into the game.
It's going to work. I'm going to be a successful writer. Just you watch.
It's happening a lot lately.
I feel like I've talked an awful lot about jobs and interviews and ideas these past weeks. But it's something giant in my life that changes daily, and interesting insights are always at hand. I've met with two of my Ogle professors, one last week, the other this morning at Starbucks. They know me better than any career coach ever could - they've seen me as a freshman, they've seen me win the Anne River Siddons award my senior year of college. They saw me play my music in public for the first time and they watched me walk across the stage wearing my cap and gown. They taught me how to write - creatively, critically, and everything in between. And no one can tell me my chances of being successful better than they can.
I came away from both meetings with ideas, a handful of contacts and a new resolve that I haven't felt in a long, long time. I think I'm ready now. I think I'm ready to take life by the horns and yank it around to face me. It's time to take control, get off the sidelines and into the game.
It's going to work. I'm going to be a successful writer. Just you watch.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
6
There is nothing more exciting to me than a blank page. I stare at one every week around this time, tossing my ideas around in my head and trying to come up with the perfect opening sentence.
I'm back where I started this week, in terms of location - there is a Starbucks down the street from campus, and while I hate their coffee and food, I used to come here every week while I was in school. I used to sit here for hours and hours, writing papers or stories or the occasional song, because I could never get access to the Internet which meant I could get stuff done without distraction.
There were lots of distractions, however, but the good kind. I always sat in this one chair, far back in the corner. My stuff was spread out all around me (much like today), and a friend once told me I resembled a tiny fort, all closed off from the world with my iPod and laptop and coffee and books and bag. I liked it that way. I could write, without interruption. I could watch people, drink my coffee, be completely anti-social and it was ok because everyone else was, too. I did my best writing at times like that. Maybe that says something about my personality, and I won't argue with a free interpretation, because I feel like myself when I'm writing and when I'm immersed in a crowd, anonymous to the rest of the world, no matter what people may say to discourage my habit.
Because there is something about coffee shops that appeal to me. There is nothing I like more than taking my laptop, getting some coffee, and chilling all afternoon, tucked away in a corner. In the summer, it's a nice break from the humidity and a chance to drink a fun summertime drink (lemonade? sweet tea?). And in the winter, it's a perfect place to be warm and cozy and have nice things like hot chocolate or cider. Especially during Christmastime, with the lights and nice smells and busy people and early nighttime and decorations and Christmas music. It makes me feel at home. But my love of seasons and holidays and the reasons for it is another blog post, one which I will perhaps write next week.
Until!
I'm back where I started this week, in terms of location - there is a Starbucks down the street from campus, and while I hate their coffee and food, I used to come here every week while I was in school. I used to sit here for hours and hours, writing papers or stories or the occasional song, because I could never get access to the Internet which meant I could get stuff done without distraction.
There were lots of distractions, however, but the good kind. I always sat in this one chair, far back in the corner. My stuff was spread out all around me (much like today), and a friend once told me I resembled a tiny fort, all closed off from the world with my iPod and laptop and coffee and books and bag. I liked it that way. I could write, without interruption. I could watch people, drink my coffee, be completely anti-social and it was ok because everyone else was, too. I did my best writing at times like that. Maybe that says something about my personality, and I won't argue with a free interpretation, because I feel like myself when I'm writing and when I'm immersed in a crowd, anonymous to the rest of the world, no matter what people may say to discourage my habit.
Because there is something about coffee shops that appeal to me. There is nothing I like more than taking my laptop, getting some coffee, and chilling all afternoon, tucked away in a corner. In the summer, it's a nice break from the humidity and a chance to drink a fun summertime drink (lemonade? sweet tea?). And in the winter, it's a perfect place to be warm and cozy and have nice things like hot chocolate or cider. Especially during Christmastime, with the lights and nice smells and busy people and early nighttime and decorations and Christmas music. It makes me feel at home. But my love of seasons and holidays and the reasons for it is another blog post, one which I will perhaps write next week.
Until!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
5
I made a list, once, of everything I wanted out of life. It didn't include the cookie cutter marriage to the cookie cutter man, or children, or a picket fence in the suburbs. I was OK with that. I had my music, my writing, my ideas and dreams and hopes.
I've always loved being different, wanting and achieving different things that most people I know. Right now, out of the 12 girls who graduated from my high school in 2004, eight are married, and as of yesterday, three of those eight have children. I can't imagine that being my life. I can't imagine being 24 and having a ring on my finger and a baby in the other room that came from my body. Like I've said before, I want different things than this. I want to go to our reunion and have something to show for myself besides a ring and a baby. Those are not the accomplishments I want under my name.
Something shifted in me last month. It was sudden, quick, sweeping in and overtaking me while my back was turned, catching me unaware and leaving me blinking in the sudden new light. I want to be a mommy one day. I want to watch my belly grow and feel the tiny kicks and make the midnight trip to the hospital and bring home a tiny little thing and make a family. I do. And while this feels right, and I will do it one day, I still feel guilty, or confused, that my new life ideas include a tiny person other than myself. I wish to God I was one of those people who are different and live an alternative lifestyle. As much as I want that, I still crave stability and normalcy, too. It's an interesting feeling, one that I grapple with sometimes every day.
Even Sex and the City told me I can't have both. I can't be a career woman and a good mommy. It doesn't work like that.
I feel like I've turned a corner, though. I'm on my way somewhere else now, the shadows retreating swiftly behind me and the light coming from a new angle. Or maybe it's just a relief at embracing the inevitable, at accepting destiny and fate and biology, whatever you want to call it. Whichever it is, it's enjoyable, this change of scenery, and I'm hanging on for as long and as far as this train runs.
I've always loved being different, wanting and achieving different things that most people I know. Right now, out of the 12 girls who graduated from my high school in 2004, eight are married, and as of yesterday, three of those eight have children. I can't imagine that being my life. I can't imagine being 24 and having a ring on my finger and a baby in the other room that came from my body. Like I've said before, I want different things than this. I want to go to our reunion and have something to show for myself besides a ring and a baby. Those are not the accomplishments I want under my name.
Something shifted in me last month. It was sudden, quick, sweeping in and overtaking me while my back was turned, catching me unaware and leaving me blinking in the sudden new light. I want to be a mommy one day. I want to watch my belly grow and feel the tiny kicks and make the midnight trip to the hospital and bring home a tiny little thing and make a family. I do. And while this feels right, and I will do it one day, I still feel guilty, or confused, that my new life ideas include a tiny person other than myself. I wish to God I was one of those people who are different and live an alternative lifestyle. As much as I want that, I still crave stability and normalcy, too. It's an interesting feeling, one that I grapple with sometimes every day.
Even Sex and the City told me I can't have both. I can't be a career woman and a good mommy. It doesn't work like that.
I feel like I've turned a corner, though. I'm on my way somewhere else now, the shadows retreating swiftly behind me and the light coming from a new angle. Or maybe it's just a relief at embracing the inevitable, at accepting destiny and fate and biology, whatever you want to call it. Whichever it is, it's enjoyable, this change of scenery, and I'm hanging on for as long and as far as this train runs.
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