Update: My life.

I haven't written anything in a while so I figured I'd give an update on my life. 

October has been a busy month already and it's only the 8th. Most importantly, Matt got a home theater position at the Best Buy in Gainesville, which is much closer to me than Cumming. He starts Oct. 11 and will then be officially moving in with me. I really need to get rid of some clothes to make room for him in the closet. 

Also Athens' Got Talent was last weekend. We had an awesome performance but didn't win anything. I know it was a fund-raiser for a good cause but I'm disappointed with some of the judge selections. Not that I thought we should have won the 'grand prize' but the person who did would not have even been in my top 5 of performers. 

It was the first year of the event so I think they have some kinks to work out before next year. There were 35 contestants but also many more who performed, spoke, did commercials and more during the show. Rehearsals lasted from 1-5 p.m. and we were the third to last in the second act so we waited around forever.

Tickets to the show were $30 so not many people were there. If tickets were $15 more people would have been there and spent just as much money voting for their favorite contestant. We only had Matt's dad there to support us, but we still had plenty of cheers during our song. This was surprising because I just knew no one would come back after the first act. The show lasted from 7 p.m. to midnight.

It did make us feel better to have so many contestants and other people coming up to us afterward telling us how great we did. The MC was very impressed by the song, which was a Matt original. Only two other contestants did an original and ours was the only good one. (Not that I'm bitter or anything)

One lady told us she would underwrite our record if she had the money. But we did meet some fun people back stage who helped us make fun of people and the PALS/Women to the World staff was very nice and helpful. Very sweet ladies. I don't think I'd do it again but it was just too much preparation, anticipation and finally disappointment. But even Matt said he thought the performance was our best, so you know it must have been damn good!

We were so exhausted from the show Saturday and Ginger was having tummy problems so we didn't make it to Christina's wedding Sunday. But now we're getting ready for Brandon and Mal's wedding Sunday. I'm a little worried about my summery bridesmaid dress now that the weather has taken a sudden turn for the cold. 

It's like we skipped fall within two weeks. It went from 85 degrees to 5o degrees overnight. I'm not prepared. I still have to get all my jackets and coats dry cleaned. I refuse to turn my heat on until December!  

Mom and Leilah will be coming up on the 20th for Jonathan and Joanna's wedding on the 23rd so I'm excited about that. 

After that I got to figure out some Halloween plans. Matt is determined to stay home for Thanksgiving but I don't see it happening without receiving some serious guilt trips. Maybe if we make the rounds for Thanksgiving we can stay home for Christmas. 

I think that's everything.

Dungeons and Drag Queens

I'll have to admit, when my friend Mallory said we were having her bachelorette weekend on Labor Day weekend, in Atlanta, along side the DragonCon Convention, I was less than excited.

I was expecting to see a bunch of crazies dressed up but sadly we saw few. But I'll have to admit, it was a blast. We pregamed in our tiny hotel room at The Highland Inn before heading out to the gay bars in East Village.

Mary's was supposed to be having a Dungeons and Drag Queens party in honor of Dragoncon weekend, but there were only a few people dressed up. A nice gay Englishman ordered us a round of shots and the pretty drag queen walking across the bar poured rum down my throat.

We ran into a former GTA member Mallory knew, small world, and also met a few new friends along the way.

My dad asked me why we went to a gay bar. Let me tell you why girls go to a gay bar. It's the only place we can go and enjoy ourselves without having to worry about sleezy guys hitting on us. In the club if a guy buys you a round of shots, you're thinking "what does he want from me?"

Gay guys on the other hand will buy a round of shots just to be nice and they don't expect anything besides maybe a fun conversation and a good dance partner. Another reason gay bars are better, better dancers and better music.

I'm glad Mallory had a good weekend. It was refreshing seeing her letting loose with friends. I miss that Mallory. Also glad I finally got to meet the maid of honor Leigh Richards, who was a wonderful host. I'm glad somebody knew where we were going.

I'll leave you with this.

 

Topic?

I couldn't think of a specific topic for today. My brain is fried.

I had a wonderful birthday weekend. Dad and Marsha took Matt and I to Longhorns where we bitched about the food, the service and the pathetic dessert. Brandon and Mallory joined us. We had our auditions in Athens Saturday, and it went very well. One judge told us we were the only act they saw that has "national talent." So funny. 

Matt had to embarrass me by telling the panel of judges our whole life story and how we met. All I remember was him saying we met at a concert and the music "inspired us to love." I think he did it on purpose because he knows I hate that cheesy shit! But the judges ate it up.

Watching the videos on YouTube I realized I have no stage presence and Matt kept his eyes closed the entire time. But they liked us and if we get through we get to play at the Classic Center in Athens, which seats more than 2,000 people!! It would be good exposure I guess. 

On Sept. 25 we'll be playing at 'Taste of Decatur' in Atlanta. We won't get paid but again it's good exposure and we'll get free food tickets! You can't beat that. Matt doesn't know it yet but I've signed us up to play at Common Ground Cafe, which is a cafe associated with a church in Cleveland. They'll pass around a tip jar and we can try to sell CDs. 

He can consider it revenge for embarrassing me during our audition.

After the audition we got to hang out with our Athens friend and new home owner Tracy. We walked around in the sweltering heat, drank plenty of jager and watched Whiskey Gentry at the 40 Watt. Sunday was relaxing day, much needed.

Then Monday it was back to the grind. & stories to spit out and a zillion meetings. $32 million in bonds were issued to create a new business park and build a new school. Fun Fun. Now the paper is out, and I have to figure out what to write for next week.

I think that about sums it up. I'll try to be more insightful next week.

 

Bohemian Jean turns 25

My birthday is Friday, and I'll be 25. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Ambivalent I guess since I wasn't one of those people who sat down when they were 15 and said 'this is where I want to be in 10 years.'

What is scary is where I would like to see myself at 30. Of course the concept is much scarier if I think of 30 as only being 5 years away. At 30 I'd like to be living in the Pacific Northwest or at least NOT GEORGIA! Nashville would be a compromise. I would also like to have a baby by 30, which means Matt and I would need to make enough money to have a baby. 

Maybe we can get it together by then. We should have our cars paid off by then at least. We definitely have a lot of growing up to do before then. Since I'm having a difficult time controlling my job situation, Matt's job situation, my location, Matt's location, my living space, income flow and aging, I'm determined to focus on being myself.

Is that a dumb statement? Can there ever be a time when you're not yourself? I hate when people say, "Well that doesn't sound like her?" I'm always me, but sometimes I do or say or have to write things that make me question what type of person I am or want to be.

 So in a quest to remember who I am, I was rereading "Bohemian Manifest" the other day. While bohemians are stereotyped with many different characteristics, I found the only consist qualities are being artistic and being contrary. Ok, I've got those down, but I need to focus  more on my creative side.

I write all day long but as a job, and it's hard to make myself write creatively when I come home. I used to write so much poetry (good and bad) but now I just stare at a blank page. I guess jewelry making and scrap booking counts as creation too right? I do plenty of that.

Other bohemian qualities I possess: 

I live simply due to poverty. Small cabin, no central heating or air, no microwave, no dishwasher. Nothing I have is extravagant, and the only thing fairly new is my computer(but no Internet). My furniture is ugly and used, my t.v. is used, my kitchen table is from the 60's. I didn't purchase any of these items. All hand-me downs.

I'm messy and it doesn't bother me. With a sink full of dirty dishes, I will wash one plate and one fork so I can eat dinner. I'll take the trash out when it stinks, wash clothes when I run out of underwear and sweep the dog hair off the floor when the fan causes the hair to turn into the Dust Bowl.

Apparently bohemians are too nostalgic for dusting or cleaning out an ashtray. This is so me! Of course keeping stray butts in the ashtray is more of a back up plan than nostalgia over who's lips have touched the filter.

I'm a daydreamer. I sleep to dream. I like to meditate and do yoga. I don't like being in one place for too long. I like wearing flowing skirts, peasant tops and tie-dyed shirts. I like burning incense, smoking a cigarette (inside) and listening to my record player.

Bohemian qualities I don't possess:

I'm big on hygiene, which according to my book, is not a major priority for many bohemians. I like to be clean and I hardly ever wear makeup to bed. I pay my bills on time and I suppose in some circles my job would be considered "selling out" or "working for the man." 

But only when I become so wrapped up in my job that I put it ahead of everything else would I consider it "selling out." Here is the quality I wish I had: being content in poverty. We would all be happy if we could master this one, but it's the most difficult. How do you learn to not stress when you don't have enough money?

I'm working on this one.

Anyway, back to my birthday. It should be a good weekend. Dad is taking me out to dinner Friday night and then Saturday Matt and I have an audition in Athens for Athens' Got Talent. Hopefully we have enough votes to put us through to the main showcase on October.

Matt got us a hotel room in Athens so we can go out to dinner after the audition and hang out downtown to celebrate my birthday.

I couldn't be happier.

My Best Friend

A best friend is someone with whom you've shared every important moment of your life.

I've known Amy since we were 3 years old. We went to Kids Korner together, we went to gymnastics together, we went on vacations together, we played basketball, we cheered on the same teams.

We were inseparable. It may be true that you're stuck with friends that you grow up with, but I couldn't think of a better person I'd rather be stuck with my whole life. She's not perfect, I'm not perfect. Some years we grow closer, some years we grow apart. But I know she is always there. Amy and I could not speak for years and pick up right where we left off without missing a beat.

We've shared good moments; we've walked down the aisle at graduation together, we've watched each other walk down the aisle at our weddings and we've celebrated the birth of her son Rylan.

We've also shared the saddest of moments, and Amy has had more than her fair share of them. I've been there for her when she lost two of the most important people in her life, her mother and grandmother. Susan was my second mother and Big Mama was probably the closest thing I ever had to a real grandmother.

Amy's parents adopted her as a baby. She never knew too much about her biological parents and didn't really care to find them. But she also knew she might have an older brother. Being the only child, Amy always wanted siblings.

She began her search a couple of years ago at the adoption agency in Gainesville. I know it was a long and agonizing process for Amy but she kept trying. Obviously her biological mother didn't want to be found. Even when she was found, Amy couldn't contact her directly.

For all those years, her biological mother was only a county away living in Gainesville. She learned she did have an older brother who was a U.S. Marine and had been deployed in Afghanistan and Iraq. She spoke to her biological mother once on the phone, but was more excited about talking to her brother Chris.

They've spoke on the phone and Chris has racked up many expensive phone bills from texting back and forth from overseas. I was happy to share in another happy moment last weekend when Amy invited me and few other friends out to dinner to meet her brother. 

I was nervous so I thought Amy would be a nervous wreck. But no, Amy was calm and collected and she and Chris carried on like they had known each other their whole lives. Previously, Amy thought they probably had different fathers but after closer examination, they might be full siblings. 

They have the same lips and eyes. Chris said Amy has his father's characteristics that he didn't get. I observed the same sort of dry, sarcastic humor from both of them. They are both strong, opinionated people who don't apologize for it. It was incredible to see the similarities between two people who had never met.

At last Amy has found a piece of her life she felt was missing as a child, and I couldn't be happier for her. However, the plot thickens and her journey continues after discovering her biological mother placed two other baby girls up for adoption.

I'm sure Amy's head is spinning with questions of why and how a mother could keep one son and give three girls up for adoption, but she is realistic about finding the answers. She accepts that circumstances of abuse and poverty probably played a role in her mother's decisions. She isn't angry. She just wants a relationship with her brother and will continue to look for her two sisters.

She grew up in a family that loved her and provided her with everything she needed. It wasn't perfect, but neither was Chris' life growing up. And as he pointed out to me Saturday, I would have never grown up with Amy had she never been adopted.

So thank you Amy for bringing happiness into my life, and thank you Chris for bringing happiness into Amy's life.

Thankful for small doses

I love my family, I really do. But I also do a happy dance when they leave to go home. 

My mom and little sister came up from Florida and spent a few days with me and a couple of days in Asheville. I barely get to see them, and I'm always so excited for them to get here, but it never lives up to my expectations.

I guess I keep hoping that the next time I see my sister, now 17, that she'll be older, wiser, nicer, but that never happens. This visit I was especially excited because it coincided with our show at Fromage. I envisioned us getting to play a few songs together and everyone being amazed at our sibling talent.

She too was excited about the idea of getting to play, but her idea of how it would go down is always different. When we tried to practice, she yelled at me for wanting to sing songs that she introduced me to, she didn't want to sing harmony and she didn't want to share. 

At that point my dreams were crushed, and I had a flashback to when she was 5, screaming and banging on the floor, demanding to watch the Spice Girl movie for the 100th time when I wanted to watch T.V. 

We ended up playing a couple of songs together at the show anyway, but I don't know how good it sounded. I also let her play a few of her songs while me and Matt took a break. She's good, her songs are good, but she's not very gracious.

For further injury, she just couldn't wait for me and Matt to finish because she was so bored. She and her friend sat there and text messaged the entire show. How dare we play covers that people enjoy hearing. She's too good for that.

It's not all bad, we have good moments. I just need to accept our relationship for what it is and not expect it to be anything more. Just like parents have to accept their children the way they are, which brings me to my mother.

She arrived at my place at 3:15 a.m. and one of the first things she said was how dusty my fans were. Before she went to sleep she patted my hand saying "Oohh your hands are so soft, probably because you don't do any house work." Of course she said it in a loving, joking way but still, she insists on critiquing my cleaning abilities.

I have never been an adequate housekeeper by her standards but I constantly remind her that maybe if I wasn't forced to clean up after Leilah when we were younger and then forced to clean up after my father too, then maybe I wouldn't mind doing more dishes and cleaning my fans.

I rent a 1907 cabin, have to work some nights and weekends on top of 40 hours a week and have a dog that sheds enough hair daily to produce a fur coat. The minimal cleaning duties keep me busy enough.

I can't leave my dad out of my complaints either. He did come to my show Saturday night, but he refused to order a meal because the one other time he ate there he didn't like it. RUDE. Then he kept yelling across the porch at the waitress "ma'am! ma'am!" while I'm trying to sing. SO RUDE!

Then on Sunday, mom cooked this amazing meal with veggies from paw paw's garden and from Osage Farms. We had fried okra, corn on the cob, barbecue pork, tomatoes, cucumbers and coleslaw. Well dad dropped Leilah off and just came on in with his girlfriend and helped himself to two plates of food, leaving me with no leftovers. What's the point of having mom cook if I don't get leftovers?

My brother was the only one who didn't annoy me this week. He came to my show with his girlfriend Saturday and thoroughly enjoyed the food and wine. Thank you Jonathan. He also proposed to his girlfriend Joanna on Sunday and I'm excited about a wedding! 

Just one more reason

I attended a funeral yesterday that would have blown the mind of the many people not living in the South.

Well I've lived in the South my whole life and I was still shocked, but then again I didn't grow up going to a crazy baptist church either. It was Matt's great aunt's funeral, a lady I'd never met, and it was held in a small, no-air conditioned church out in the middle of the valley.

Matt and I were crammed in at the end of a pew and had to endure an hour and a half of preaching, not funeral preaching but fire and brimstone preaching.

The first pastor was fine, he spoke briefly about typical funeral topics, memories, better places and faith in Jesus. The second paster, who I think must have been her preacher for many years or at least he acted like it, went on for probably 45 minutes. It was about 5 minutes into this 400-pound man's sermon he began yelling at the top of his lungs and walking around the pews and wiping his sweaty forehead.

It was then I realized I was in a southern twilight zone hell! It was no longer about trying to comfort the church-full of people who just lost a loved one. It was about scaring people into getting saved and walking with Jesus for eternity. (How is that theory any more comforting than being dead in the ground?)

I wish I had my recorder, better yet a camcorder. It was better than that documentary "Jesus Camp." Every word had an A on the end of it, God was apparently talking to us through this man and he was speaking in tongues. When he finally stopped, I thought the worst was behind us.

Let me back up a minute, Matt has some distant relative that likes to speak at every family funeral. He's a born again and while the big guy was preaching he constantly interjected with amens, thank you Jesus' and praise the lords. It was funny at first but he even interjected when people were singing and playing banjo and guitar (the only good part of the funeral.)

He spoke a little about the lady we were there to honor but then he just talked about himself for 30 minutes. It was painful. He even sang every verse of "Jesus Loves Me." He said it was sinful to have long hair, and to show your "nakedness" to your family. By this he meant he couldn't be seen in swimming trunks in front of his family. That was a new one for me.

It was just one more reason to get the hell out of here. I'd rather be in hell than spend eternity with those crazies. 

Dreaming of a Life

I feel like the last two weeks have been a whirlwind of questions, mistakes and uncertainty. I don't understand how contentment in life can all of a sudden turn into extreme displeasure and a need for immediate change.

It might just be restlessness or the fact that little mistakes at work, some not within my control, are heavily weighing on my shoulders, or it may be some of the stupidity I deal with on a daily basis. 

It might be the frustration of never having enough money or not living with my husband and not having what I imagine to be the typical "honeymoon" period that my other newlywed friends get to experience (while also having a secure, well-paid job and purchasing a new house.) I don't expect a fairy-tale life and I don't even want a house! So what the hell is wrong with me?

I asked my mother, "What am I going to do with my life?!" to which she replied, "I don't know, whatever you want to do." And that's the problem, I don't know anymore. I've wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. Since third grade I've been filling up pages of journals with stories, poems and day to day life. 

Journalism seemed to be the logical choice when I went to college. What could be better than writing stories for a living. And that was the extent of my media knowledge when I took my first reporting class. It was even more assuring to discover that the principles of journalism, the first amendment, the fourth estate, the gatekeeper, was something I truly believed in.

My college mentor taught me a lot of things and had me excited about a career in print. Perhaps one thing he failed to mention or that I failed to pick up on was journalism is not a career, its your life. I go to bed thinking of story ideas, mistakes from the last edition, who I dread calling tomorrow and some days the work day doesn't end until 9 or 10 p.m. (and I'm just a weekly reporter.) Imagine the life of a daily metro editor.

It's not all bad. I meet interesting people, I know just about everything going on and occasionally I get to cover something fun or important. But I'm not sure I want the life of a daily journalist, and I can't afford to be a weekly reporter (or editor) the rest of my life. Which is another good point. Why is one of the most important institutions in the world one of the most underpaid? Everyone complains about the credibility of the media but realistically what can you expect from reporters making about $25,000 a year?

OK, this has become a bitch-fest and that was not my intention. I should be happy that I was able to get a job in my preferred field within six months of graduating and to work at a respectable newspaper with three other experienced journalists who value the importance of accuracy, consistency and honesty.

I just feel like I'm not progressing fast enough. It seems every way I look there is no where to go. I concentrated in public relations for two years and minored in sociology. I would love to do PR for a small college or nonprofit and I think I would enjoy teaching journalism or advising a college newspaper. But do I really want to encourage other naive students to pursue an uncertain path? Who knows where journalism will be in another 1o years.

Why can't I just write and publish want I want? What do I need to do to start my own magazine? I need a master's degree in something that will help this dream along. In the meantime, I need to keep working on my book. I also need to keep my aspirations in perspective. I'm almost 25 and I've only been out of school for two years. I'm doing OK, I just always want something better.

Fourth of July festivities

Since my weeks run from Wednesdays to Tuesdays, I can say it has been a very long week. And even though I had to work some over the Fourth of July weekend, I tried to make the most of it. I got up at 6 a.m. Saturday and headed out to the lake to take pictures of the Rabun Ramble. The lake is always beautiful in the morning as the sun is coming up and cooler as well. 

Then I took Matt with me up to Sky Valley to take pictures of the parade, which was full of snobby, but cute, dogs and scary clowns. We didn't want to waste a trip up the mountain so we made our way over to Highlands, N.C., afterward and walked around downtown. It's a cute little town, and I found a clothing store I would like if I had money. The shirts that did fit my budget did not fit my boobs. Very disappointing.

We also ate very well over the weekend. I made country-style ribs in the crock pot one night and then we ate at dad's house sunday for lunch. I made my squash casserole and dad made fried okra and steak burgers ...yum.

Sunday night was especially lovely. Dinner with some of the best chicks in the world! It was nice to bitch and gossip with my girlfriends while having my usual jager bombs at the pub in Helen. I got to catch up with my friend Ansley who recently got divorced and just got a new job. Amy and I discussed her soon to be second wedding. (Maybe this one will last). I think these  marriage issues may soon to be another blog in itself.

Not that Matt appreciated the estrogen overload, but he socialized a little with the other boyfriends. He was a trooper considering he had to be in Cumming the next morning at 7 a.m.

The company was great, but the fireworks were weak. I don't know if it just isn't as exciting as it is when you're a kid or if the city just doesn't have the money anymore. Besides having to go to work early the next morning, it was a great Fourth of July weekend.

Here is the cutest puppy from the parade Saturday.

"Where Spring Spends the Summer"

I think we need to change Rabun County's tag line because it's July and spring abandoned us a long time ago.

Last summer I don't remember having to turn on my air conditioning on until late June, but this year I've had it running steadily since early May. I live in a cabin that was built in 1909 so of course all I have is a couple of fans and a ac window unit. Luckily the huge oak trees keep it shaded most of the day but it's the humidity that's killing me.

I can't walk outside for one minute without being covered in sweat... I hate sweating. I constantly have to wear sunscreen, my hair is getting blonder by the minute and my freckles are getting darker. 

I take cold showers in the morning, have two fans blowing on me and occasionally have to stick my head in the freezer while getting ready in the morning so I can stop sweating long enough to put my makeup on and dry my hair.

Even poor Ginger can't take the heat for more than 30 minutes before she gives up and plops down on the ground. Early in the morning is the only time I can stand to take her for a long walk. You would think all the rain we've had would cool things off but it it only adds to the hot stickiness!

Anyway, my point is I'm sick of living in the South. I want out! While the Pacific Northwest would be ideal, right now I'd be happy to move North 2 hours to Asheville. I would love to say we only have two more months to suffer through but I bet it won't cool down here until late September.

"Rabun County, where summer spends the year." 

"Rabun County, where summer kicks spring's ass." 

"Rabun County, only the devil thinks it's cooler here." 

I'll keep working on it.

Realization

I realize now why I forget important things... because I've crowded my brain with zillions of songs, lyrics, artists and album titles.

When my editor asked me the other day the capital of Czech Republic it took me way too long to pull the word Prague out of the depths of my brain. (Even though I had just watched a wonderful episode about Czech Republic on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations.) 

On the other hand, I can hear the first 2 seconds of a song and tell you the title and artist, recount the first time I heard it and probably tell you other artists who have covered it. However, my weaknesses are country and 80s hair band rock, which all sounds the same anyway.

Matt and I managed to remember most of the lyrics and chords to the 40 songs we played last night at Fromage. I guess I didn't realize how impressive that was until a lady tipped us with cash and a business card for her own "Americana" band. The back said "Great Job, and without a music stand, Class act!"

I should have known she was in a band because she was one of the few people in the crowd who knew John Prine's "Angel from Montgomery." The show went pretty well, several tables of people, who had never heard us before, showed their enjoyment with tips. (much appreciated)

But people came and went and by 8 p.m. only a couple tables of friends remained and our energy was waning. I told Matt he needed to get used to people talking, walking and other distractions while he was playing. A few times I seemed to lose concentration and forget the lyrics.

Matt, also a music snob, finally came to the realization that maybe we needed to play more "mainstream" music to keep attention. Really? Really? Isn't that what I've been telling you for years? You have to play some popular songs so you can sneak in a few good ones that people haven't heard before.

So far our crowd favorites have been "Me and Bobby McGee," "You're So Vain," "Wicked Game," and especially Matt's killer performance of "Kiss" by Prince. It brings the house down but we have to save it for last because his voice is gone afterward. Not to mention all the great original material Matt has to offer.

So for next month, if Fromage wants us back, we'll work on some classics. One request has been Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" any popular Emmylou Harris song and Matt's working on "Ain't No Sunshine" by Bill Withers. (Totally upon my suggestion)

We also need to record some new songs. Our family always appreciates a new CD for Christmas. Off to enjoy the rest of my Sunday and try to stop singing the same song over and over again in my head. "The Captain and the Hourglass" by Laura Marling. 

An introduction to my life

I suppose this blog will only be for my benefit because I doubt anyone else would want to read about the day to day events in my life... but maybe someday I'll be a famous journalist, novelist or singer and someone might care about what my life was like building up to my greatness.

And if not, my mother will probably read it. I don't have a theme, I'm not traveling anywhere right now, I'm not cooking my way through Julia Childs cookbook, I might voice some political or social opinions but I don't expect to change anyone's mind and I sure as hell don't do missionary work.

I am however trying to write a book

or maybe it should be a screenplay or a musical.I haven't decided yet. While it would be productive to post some chapters and get feedback, I'm not sure I'm ready to put it out there yet. What if no one likes it as much as I do?  It's about an American journalist in 1996-1998 Northern Ireland. Far fetched I know. This blog will probably be another distraction from finishing it.

I've known my husband Matt since I was 14. We met at a local music festival in Sautee, Ga.We also got married at the same location in Sautee on March 12.

 We've always shared a love for

 music among other things. But we haven't physically been together as much as it seems. During those 10 years, I lived in Tacoma, Washington for a year, I lived in Florida for six months and now, even though we're married, I live two hours away from him.

I think we've only lived together a total of three years due to school locations, job

 locations and other 'hiccups' in our relationship. But somehow it works for us. We're happy, but would be much happier if we could see each other more than twice a week. 

He's always played guitar and I've always loved to sing so we make a good pair. Like me and my writing, he's always been shy about his music. I've pushed and pushed for him to play places and recently we've tried to make that happen. We're playing our second show together this Saturday at Fromage, a delicious restaurant in Clayton.

Our friends and family have been our biggest fans so far but we're trying to get our names out there and play more. We're also auditioning next month for Athen's got Talent, a talent show fundraiser.

More to come later about my family, my dog, my job and hopes and dreams. (maybe)