live in nashville. kind of wild. can be quiet. gunna start recording next week in my apartment. get anxious a lot in transitionary periods, which are pretty frequent. hate practicing, HATE IT!!! get depressed sometimes. love to eat food. take walks a lot. get passionate about life when i drink too much coffee.
It's 52 degrees outside. I'm sitting at a desk job that I got, working four hours every morning. I also got a job at a clothing store. But I put my two weeks in. I'm tired and I can't think of anything funny to say. Coffee hasn't kicked in yet. blllaaaaaahhhhhhh....
It's funny that a few blogs ago, I was commenting on how amazing this year was going to be. And so far, 26 days now of being 27, there have been quite a few incidents. I wanted to share the latest one.
Impulsively, a friend and I decided to drive to Birmingham to help another friend out last Thursday night. We left around 11 p.m. Our friend had a gig down there and kind of got stranded and needed to be back for work the next morning. I felt awake and good, so did my other friend. So we hit the road. Like Jack Kerouac. Except not as cool. Or dirty.
2 hours into the drive I got pulled over. Of course. My friend was shaking because she was nervous. I've been pulled over so many times now that police men don't really scare me as much as they make me mad. Well I decided to be honest. He asked me how fast I was going. I said 85, and it was because we were going to help a friend out in BHam. He told me I failed to yield. I was kind of just laughing to myself as he walked away. Unbelievable. Of course this would happen. When he came back to my car (because for some reason police take 30 minutes to write up a report) he asked me why my license was suspended. That is when the tears turned on. He told me he was "doing me a favor" by not towing my car, and not citing that I was speeding. And then he asked my friend if she was a maid, because some maid travelled back and forth from Tennessee to Alabama. I was sobbing.
When we finally got to the Ham, our other friend had been drinking. And he refused to come home with us. He laid down underneath a tree, and, after begging him to get in the car for 45 minutes or so, we left. We got home at 7:30. I fell asleep at 9 a.m.
What have I learned? NEVER travel through Alabama.
It is 6:37 a.m. right now. I am usually not awake at this hour. Ever. It is beautiful outside and the temperature is 65 degrees. I woke up to a little knock knock knock on the door. Immediately I knew that someone had vandalized something, and it was most likely my car. Why else would a neighbor be knocking on my door at such a ludicrous hour?
Well I threw on some clothes and walked outside. The window was smashed in and my GPS, recently glued on with Gorilla Glue, strongest glue known to man that withstands heat, cold, and weight (but not the hands of a robber) had been ripped off of my dashboard. I looked in the back of the car, where my brand new keyboard still sat in it's case, at least 9 times the value of the GPS, and rolled my eyes. My parents also gave me a new GPS for Christmas (apparently mom and dad know how directionally disabled I am) and it was in my glove compartment. In my mind I just thought IDIOTS. Sad desperate idiots (not my parents, the robber).
There's this line in a song by Rosie Thomas where she's talking about her friends. And she says "they don't hold things, they don't hold hands, they guard their hearts the best they can." One of her friends that she is referring to is a well-known artist who owns no instruments, I guess he just borrows everything.
So. That is my Monday morning this week. Heckuva start.
1. 9 times 3 equals 27. I am obsessed with the number 9 and i really like the number 3. my whole OCD life has revolved around the number 9, which sounds completely irrational to you but to me, this is an AMAZING thing.
2. i feel really sexy. not dirty sexy, this is a better definition: really comfortable in my own skin. i am laughing SO much these days.
3. i'm (maybe) going to go organic (sadly, my first meal as a 27 year old was a quarter pounder with cheese, large fries and a medium coke from micky d's. i've also eaten obscenely large quantities of ice cream in the past four nights, and most of my meals have been completely processed... so we'll see.)
4. i have started to make a goal list: one of them is to make a CD. by golly, this is the year (do i say this every year?)
5. i am going to start making my clothes, stop washing my hair as much, and try to emulate the good people of the world like Mother Teresa and Rich Mullins (driven not by my own guilt but by the love of Jesus, which I'm understanding more, believing in more, and not feeling trite talking about it. this is happening by reading the Bible (transforming my mind) and this great book named "The Cross Centered Life.")
6. i could care less if i have a boyfriend. and i think i've forgiven both myself for not getting married and Lifeway for hurting my feelings.
7. i'm going to start shaving my legs more
8. i'm going to travel to the northwest.
9. i just don't have fear like i used to. i went skiing the other day for the first time in like 4 years, and I GOT UP ON THE FIRST TRY!!!!! i'm just livin.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am somewhat addicted to coffee. I think it's interesting because coffee truly is addictive (the INTERESTING thing about this is that coffee is an upper stimulant and it's legal. Marijuana is a downer stimulant and it's illegal. We humans allow with open widely open arms (and wallets) upper stimulants but not downers? hmm). I can be depressed and then go get a coffee, and I am happy. My friend Hailey and I do this often, we get coffee-hyper and happy after a morning of low-energy somewhat boring conversations. My sister texted me and said "I'm starting to feel excited and happy. It's the coffee slowly poisoning my sadness." after a morning of an overwhelming sense of purposelessness and frustration about life. I wonder sometimes if it is a sin, I don't think I'm being gluttonous (when I used to work at Starbucks, I would have 5 to 6 shots of espresso a day, which IS gluttonous and now I only do about 2, or the equivalent of that). I DO think I could be wiser with my money at times, when I'm feeling especially green.
There is a funny story I'd like to insert right here that may sound random, but I'm going stream of consciousness here. I was working in New Orleans at the Starbucks by my parents' home. There are a lot of VERY rich people in the area, and one particularly rich woman came in. She didn't take off her goggle sunglasses that consumed much of her emaciated face, and she ordered some huge very particular coffee drink. The order contained 7 or 8 titles. "Quad Venti half-nonfat, half-soy sugar free vanilla blah blah blah blah." No smile, no thank you, no hi, she simply needed her own coffee high. Well, a band named Bright Eyes, which is still kind of underground but kind of getting bigger, was playing through the speakers. The woman looked at me through her sunglasses, holding her huge coffee drink and demanded "Why are they on the speakers here? WHY ARE THEY SELLING OUT?!?! I can't believe this, WHY are they playing at STARBUCKS??" I was speechless, I literally could not believe the irony of it all as she stormed out. Talk about sellout.
Anyway, so the real point of this story is that Starbucks is dis-continuing the Almond Syrup. This is the only flavor I get in my coffee... It is my little treat, a moment of happiness in the midst of my day. It is delicious and scrumptious and I am going to try to buy as many bottles of almond syrup as I can before they're all gone. That's all, nothing deep. Well, nothing deeper than 12 ounces of espresso, milk, ice, and almond syrup.
I love hotels. Morgan, a good friend of mine is so disgusted by hotels that she won’t even take her shoes off, and she brings her own sheets!! But I can’t get ENOUGH of them!!! I just walked into a hotel (after watching 2 hours of Lost in the car); we’re in Tupelo, MS getting ready to do a show tonight, and we stopped in at the hotel first. And my heart just exploded because I had an overwhelming moment of gratitude. Well, it’s always good to write those down, right? So, here are the things, in no particular order, that I love about hotels:
The blackout shades: you could sleep until 2 p.m. and not even know it. There are more than five channels and they’re all CLEAR. And the remote works. The beds are made. The feeling of vacation, because when you were young, hotels always meant vacation, which, for me, meant Disneyworld or Branson. You can crank the a.c. or heater and you don’t have to worry about an electric bill. My friend Whit once pointed out the brilliance of hotel showers, the curved rod at the top and the high water pressure. The mirror next to the TV is ALWAYS a slimming mirror. Ladies, do your makeup there! The window: which means a fresh perspective, even if that’s only a fresh perspective of the highway…it’s different from what you normally see, right? That’s song material. Usually you get to a hotel after a long drive so a good stretch on the bed is wonderful. My mom used to “christen” the hotel beds by laying on her back with her feet and arms in the air and making herself bounce, which was hilarious, but we always do it.
Of course there are the negatives: I know I know, the bedspread never gets washed, who knows who was here before me, there’s always the temptation of porn late at night (which I will admit is not a struggle of mine, though you always hear in youth group how tempting it is), the drinking glasses only get wiped down and not soaked or scrubbed, and I always wonder if, while I’m changing or something, there’s a peephole that some pervert is watching me through. But why focus on the negative (and scary) when, as an adult, SOMEONE MAKES YOUR BED!!! AND RESTOCKS YOUR SHAMPOOS!!!
Life is incredibly mundane, people. I can only be thankful for what I have, and be a good steward of my thankfulness. So as I sit here for a few moments in the Wingate in cute little Tupelo, I will deny the possibility of nasty little scabies (which my hypochondriac mother taught me about) and filthy bedspreads, peeping toms and e-coli-infested drinking glasses. Maybe the maids don’t even LIKE my cheap jewelry. Instead of freaking, I will go christen the beds, make some coffee, and kick my shoes off for a little afternoon of cable. Little pleasures. Like Deb Talan of The Weepies says,
Can I get up in the morning, put the kettle on Make us some coffee, say hey to the sun Is it enough to write a song and sing it to the birds When they hear just a tone and not understand my love for words
But you will hear me and know I want to live this I want to live a I want to live a simple life.