Wednesday, August 20, 2008

And Who's the Official Queen of Surprises?

Me. I am the official Queen of Surprises. I got crowned yesterday, as a matter of fact, after showing up at my parents' house in Golden, Mississippi, completely unannounced and unexpected. It was one of the most satisfying and fun days I have ever experienced. Let me recap the various reactions of unsuspecting family members:

My Mother: She was the first one I saw when I walked in. She gasped, then had a complete meltdown. She couldn't let go and she couldn't stop crying! It was awesome (not that she was crying, obviously, but that she was so shocked to see me).

My Daddy: He was taking a nap because he wasn't feeling well at all, so when Mother opened the bedroom door and I stepped in, he looked completely disoriented and unsure that he was really seeing me in his doorway. Mother actually had to say, "You're not dreaming. She's really here!" But he knew it was real when I started hugging on him!

My Aunt (who wins the award for "Best Reaction"): Mother called her to come by and get some dinner. I waited patiently for her to wander into the kitchen. When she saw me, she screamed, threw her hands up into the air, and started laughing/dancing her way across the kitchen. Between the screaming guffaws, and while she was holding on to me for dear life, she was saying, "How?" and "When?" It was the funniest thing ever.

My Grandmothers: The first one also wandered unsuspectingly into the kitchen, though it took her a few minutes to see me. When she realized what was going on, she hugged on me in shock, though not for long because she immediately turned to the culprits who knew about it and started firing questions. I don't think she ever really understood that nobody knew I was coming! And she wanted to know why no one told her!

My other grandmother, who has a "bad leg" (yes, the quotations are there for a reason), nearly jumped out of her recliner when she saw me come into her house. She moved quickly and with purpose. I'm pretty sure her leg's fine based on her reaction time. Had she been a swimmer, she would've beaten Phelps off the block. No doubt about it.

So now you see why I'm the Queen of Suprises. I've been awaiting this title for years, but this last shenanigan sealed the deal for sure. It's good to be home.

Friday, August 15, 2008

I'm Sorry, But I Need to Make a List

It's a beautiful Friday afternoon in San Clemente. In honor of the sunshine (which I cursed earlier when I got too hot washing dishes) I'd like to make a random list of things I enjoy immensely. It's a completely pointless list, and probably not even marginally entertaining to read, but here it goes.

1. I like palm trees. They make me quite giddy, actually. I don't know why. Maybe it goes back to childhood vacation memories when the sight of palm trees was a clear indication that we were almost at the beach. I particularly enjoy the ridiculously tall, skinny ones. In my brain, they don't seem physically capable of standing without folding right in half, what with that big 'ole poof of leaves on the top. But they do stand up. And they're awesome. And they're everywhere. And I kind of wish I could be one. Moving right along...

2. I like driving fast enough to shave minutes off the arrival time that is provided by my navigation system at the beginning of every trip. It's almost like a game. It gives me great, great pleasure to watch that time go down, even if only by a minute or two. This is not a good thing, considering the lead foot that I inherited from my dear father.

3. I like beer. I think that one explains itself, though I must admit that my beer passions are heightened this time each year when Sam Adams puts out their seasonal Octoberfest. It's a crying shame (or a blessing in disguise, perhaps?) that I can only get it two months out of the year.

4. I like chatting online. There. I said it. I don't care if it locks in my already solid dork status. There's a certain art to getting your point across without vocal inflection or tone and without facial expressions (emoticons don't REALLY count, people). I like to think I'm good at it. And my wittiness seems to triple during instant messaging exchanges. You wouldn't even believe it. I'm a riot.

5. I like pinkberry. Yeah, I'd never heard of it either 'til California. I tried it for the first time last weekend, and God bless the person who took me there because, goodness gracious alive, the stuff rocks! I feel sorry for other frozen yogurt. I really do.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Country Girl Really is Going to Town

The only surefire way I know of to make sure I go after what I really want is to broadcast my intentions to everyone I know. This way, you see, I'm always held accountable for the dreams I'm threatening to follow. I can't slink away from it anymore, because too many people know about it. Too many people will call me out on it. Too many people have seen my heart exposed.

So here I am before you now, spilling my guts about what I'm looking for in my life. I want to sing. I want to be onstage. I've wanted to be a singer for as long as I can remember (which isn't saying much - I honestly have a hard time recalling what I did yesterday). Somewhere around the precious age of 5, my sweet Daddy taught me "Jolene." He would play it on his Yamaha acoustic and I would sing it for anyone who would listen. "I'm beggin' of you, please don't take my man." Maybe that's where this obsession started. Or maybe it started on one of those countless Sundays at Golden Central Baptist singing those beautiful old hymns. Those are still some of my favorite songs. Wherever the seed was planted, its roots took hold. They were deep even then. And they've only grown deeper since.

Even as insignificant as my acoustic shows in Starkville were, they made me feel alive. It didn't matter if I was singing for three people, which I did on a couple of occasions, or if I was singing for a bar full. I am my true self when I am singing. You won't find a more honest representation of my very heart. It's my favorite feeling on earth. I yearn for it. I ache for it. I need it to be me. It's a revealing and personal experience. And I'm fairly certain that if you look just right while I'm singing, you can actually see my soul. Right there, out in the open, sharing itself with everyone in the room.

So what's my point here? As of September 1, I will be a resident of L.A. I found some great roommates and a pretty sweet apartment. I'm going there for one reason and for one reason only: to sing. The music world is a horrifying place. I don't know if I can hack it. But you know, I didn't know if I could hack moving across the country and that's worked out well so far.

I don't have a job yet. Making rent won't be easy, and I know it. But if I have to slave at Starbucks or serve cheap beer in a dive bar (right, like alcohol in L.A. is cheap) then that's what I'll do. I said when I left Mississippi that I was sick of taking the easy road. Sick of doing the expected. Sick of being secure and comfortable. So this country girl's heading to town. She's not so scared of pursuing her dream. She's horrified, though, of what will happen to her soul if she never tries.