25

25 is a good number. In my head, it’s an even number. Although technically it’s not an even number, I’ve always thought as 5 as even number. I mean, we count money by 5s: 5, 10, 15, 20, 25…

I am just over half way through the 25^th year of my life. I have lived just about a quarter of my life. That first quarter of my life is behind me, and I have trouble remembering a good bit of it. I guess that’s what happens when you have a concussion when you’re 13, then fall off the back of a truck when you’re 21.

Looking back at how my 25^th year started, it’s been an odd one, so far. It started off with having back surgery less than 2 weeks after my birthday (which actually falls on a 25^th). And thank god for that procedure. I’m so glad that I was able to have it done. I am not particularly happy that it had to happen. But I’m glad that the issue was taken care of, and I can now live a semi-normal life (come on, there’s nothing normal about my life).

This year has been filled with some interesting romantic and/or sexual encounters. It actually started about a year ago, after getting out of a 2ish-year relationship, and sort of started out as trying to fill a void. Literally. Then it turned into having these encounters for the experience, for the story. A couple of these encounters were genuine attempts at possibly starting a new relationship. The first one of these was a guy who was almost 5 years younger than me. And as time went on, that proved to be an issue. The next dude was only 3 years younger than me. This “relationship” (if you can even call it that) lasted a little bit longer. But his mental state proved to be an issue (dude was kinda bi-polar-ish). THEN I went on a date with a guy who was two years older than me. I thought, ok cool, this should work out, he’s older. We went out to dinner, drove around, just talking and listening to music, went back to his house and met his family and hung out some more. It was a really fun night and this dude and I really clicked. I texted with him a couple more times after that, then never heard from him again. It was then that I realized that it didn’t really matter how old a guy is, they’re all pretty bad at following through (either that, or I just suck as person. I hope that’s not the case). 

Two weeks after that date was when I started dating Jared (you can read about him here). For about a month and a half, I was in relationship heaven. Even though our relationship never made it to the point where we said “I love you” to each other, I was so in love. He was my soulmate. Until he decided that the 6 year age difference was an issue. God that hurt so bad. After it ended, I was cool, or at least tried to be. It wasn’t until a couple weeks after it ended that it really hit me. I’ve just recently gotten over it. You know, maybe somewhere down the road, we’ll come back to each other, but for now, it’s completely over. It makes me sad to think about, but I can’t sit here in my bed and wallow in self-pity about it forever. So I’ve finally been able to move on, and continue to be my single, cynical self. 

I am not religious and I am not very spiritual. But I am a firm believer one thing: everything happens for a reason. Totally. I’ve had all of these experiences, I’ve lived these 25 years. Everything that has happened in my life has happened for a reason and led me to where I am right now. For example, I recently interviewed for this really awesome job which would have had me making a minimum of 30k a year, I’d have insurance, and I’d easily be able to move back out of my parent’s house. However, I found out a few days ago that I did not get the job. Had I gotten that job, of course it would have been amazing, but I also wouldn’t have the badass haircut and new color that I have right now. I would have had to leave the Levee and all of my awesome new piano students that I’ve gotten in the last month. So I’m OK with not having gotten that job. I have awesome students, awesome hair, and I’m going to continue to be a poor musician, and love it. It all happened for a reason. 

So here I am, closer to 26 than 25, and I’m fairly happy. Of course there are things that I’m still waiting on to happen. Like love, being financially stable, living on my own again. But I know that that everything happens for a reason, and these things will come and happen when they’re supposed to. 

In the past couple of years, I’ve been learning that my life is not going to turn out the same way my parents’ lives have. My parents met when they were 19, were married by the time they were 24, and had a child (me!) three years later. I thought I had to go by their timeline. I thought I was failure when I was nearing 24 and the serious relationship that I had been in (and thought was going to lead to marriage) was falling apart. But I’ve been realizing that just because that’s how my parents’ lives turned out, doesn’t mean mine has to be a carbon copy. I’m also probably not going to have a “normal” 9 to 5 job, probably ever (unless I sell out and become a “real” teacher at a “real” school). My degree is in music and theatre; music and theatre kids are not normal. And I’m perfectly fine with that. It’s just taken some time to realize that I’m fine with it and that I’m probably not getting married so soon. IT WILL BE OK. And I’m ok with that.

I am 25. I have a job, a car, and a place to live. I am happy. Nothing’s perfect, but that’s to be expected. I will keep moving forward, continuing to better myself, better my quality of life, and have fun doing it. I will color and cut my hair the way I want it, I will get tattoos and piercings that I want, and I will surround myself by the people that I want. Every choice I make is made for a reason, whether I realize it or not. And that’s the way it should be. 

In the meantime, I’m headed to St. Augustine to have one of the best weekends of my life. I’ll tell the Gentlemen you said hello. 

Melissa Meals

At the end of May, my cousin Brianna, whom I’ve referred to in a previous post, graduated from high school. Bri is my youngest first cousin from my mom’s side of the family, and she’s pretty awesome. I know that I’m pretty awesome, but she takes my awesomeness to the next level. She graduated with honors, she had a couple sets of cords that she wore with her cap and gown, she’s just all around badass. The weekend of her graduation, the WHOLE family was coming into town (Warner Robins, GA) to see her graduate and go to her graduation party held at her parent’s house.

Just before the graduation weekend, I was starting to get really into cooking. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, but now that I’ve moved in with my parents and have an awesome, pretty much always fully stocked kitchen, I’ve been doing a lot more cooking. Armed with this knowledge, my grandmother asked me to help her prepare some of the food that was going to be served at the graduation party. So the afternoon that I arrived at my grandmother’s house, the day before the graduation, my grandmother immediately put me to work making huge vats of chicken salad and pasta salad. There was so much slicing and chopping going on that it’s a miracle that I still have all of my fingers. 

My aunt, Brianna’s mom, had also caught wind of my newly discovered cooking skillz and asked me to help make a caprese salad. For any of you who follow me on Instagram, you’ll know that I have an obsession with caprese salad. If you don’t know, caprese salad consists of fresh mozzarella cheese, fresh basil, tomatoes, and olive oil and balsamic vinegar. It’s pretty much one of the greatest things you’ll ever put in your mouth, especially if you use a balsamic vinegar reduction. Balsamic vinegar may not sound very appealing, mainly because it has the word “vinegar” attached to it, but once it is reduced, it’s like a tart, caramel-esque, gift from the gods. Whenever I make a caprese salad for myself, I like to cut up a fist sized ball of mozzarella into little bite sized chunks and put it in a bowl with fresh basil and cherry tomatoes and a little bit of olive oil. Then I reduce some balsamic vinegar and drizzle it over the salad. It’s soooo gooood! What is a reduction you ask? It’s exactly what it sounds like. It’s when you heat a liquid to the point where the water evaporates and you’re left with a thickened liquid. In the case of a balsamic reduction, you’re basically making a caramel sauce. When I make a balsamic reduction, I like to let it reduce for a while so it gets thick and syrupy. It may sound a little weird, but balsamic reduction is life changing when you drizzle it over fresh berries. I love to pour it over either strawberries or blackberries. 

Needless to say, I was put in charge of making the caprese salad and the balsamic reduction to go with it. At like 10 o’clock the night before the graduation, I was at my aunt’s house cutting up two large logs of mozzarella and two Sam’s sized plastic crates of cherry tomatoes, and delicately layering the mozzarella and tomatoes with basil leaves in a giant trifle bowl. This was like heaven for a caprese addict like me. When I was done, it looked like Christmas in a bowl, with the bright red and green from the tomatoes and basil. 

The next day, after the graduation, was the party. All the food was prepared and being set up on the dining room table, and the only thing left to make was the balsamic reduction for the caprese salad. And since I had just recently become an expert in reductions, of course it was my job to make the redution. I had to reduce an entire bottle of balsamic vinegar. Having not reduced a whole bottle before, I wasn’t sure how long it would take. It was like 20 or 25 minutes. And apparently, while the vinegar is reducing, it makes the whole house smell like vinegar. So all of my cousin’s friends and our family were dying from vinegar fumes. BUT IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT! Sometimes when making a reduction, it can be a hit-or-miss kind of thing, either you don’t reduce it long enough and it’s still too watery, or you reduce it too much and you end up with a thick molasses-like consistency. But luckily, I removed it from the heat at just the right time and it was the perfect consistency, nice and syrupy, like a black, tart caramel. 

As I put the final touch of the bowl of balsamic on the food table, I looked across at the spread and realized that I’d made half of the food on the table. It was a very rewarding experience to hear all the party goers ooh-ing and ahh-ing over how good all the food was. My aunts and grandmother kept telling me that I should go into catering or go to culinary school. Whaaa? The thought of me becoming a caterer or chef or anything to do with the food world had never crossed my mind. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog posts, you’ll know that in the past 6 months or so I’ve been dealing with such existential thoughts as, “who am I?”, “what am I doing with my life?”, “what am I going to do with my life?”, and I’ve made lists of all of the things I’ve thought of doing or being. “Chef” was not one of them. But since it was being suggested to me, I thought, why not add it to the list? So I did a little research and found some culinary programs that seemed interesting. My favorite was one where you would study in NYC for 10 weeks, then you would go to Italy and study for 9 weeks, then work in a kitchen in Italy for another 9 weeks. 

For now, the thought of culinary school is going to remain a thought. But since cooking has still become something I enjoy doing, I decided to start cooking for my family (I gotta earn my keep somehow). I cook two meals a week, Sunday lunch and Tuesday dinner, and I call them Melissa Meals. Sometimes I just prepare your run of the mill type meals, but a lot of times, I’ll get a little experimental and try new things. I’ve been trying out a lot of no/low-carb recipes, mainly because my mom is on a protein-heavy, no carb diet right now. Two of the no/low-carb recipes that have been amazing are no carb pizza, and no carb chile rellenos (which is my own recipe, btw. Well with some help on how to prepare the peppers from a very nice Spanish speaking lady on YouTube). The pizza is made with a cream cheese and egg “crust”, and the chile rellenos are not fried, but baked in queso. 

Another culinary creation that I have stumbled upon, which is in no way whatsoever low-carb, is Nutella milkshakes. OHMYGODNUTELLAMILKSHAKES. When I posted a picture of my first Nutella milkshake on Instagram, the caption was “Ok, I just found something that's better than balsamic reduction: Nutella milkshake. Good gawd.” It’s super easy to make, and obvi, super delicious. It’s just two cups of vanilla ice cream, half a cup of milk, and 4 tablespoons of Nutella. Then of course you mix it up in a blender, pour it in a glass, and then discover nirvana. It really is THAT good. 

Since I have no intentions to turn this blog into a food blog, I wasn’t planning on posting any of my recipes, just mouthwatering pictures of the meals (cruel, I know), but if you’re really dying to know my culinary secrets, you can just send me a message or email (my email address is on the left side bar under my picture) and I will be happy to send them to you!

My first caprese salad using the balsamic vinegar reduction.

The giant caprese salad.

The graduation party food table, featuring my three salads and balsamic reduction.

My first Melissa Meal: chicken fettuccine with a homemade alfredo sauce. 

No-carb pizza! Soooo goood!

No-carb chile rellenos!

Fully loaded with sugar and carbs, Nutella milkshake! 

Love Story

Well, I wasn't expecting this to happen. I am the happiest I've been in a long time. And it's amazing because all of this happiness was caused by one person who was able to make my life take a 180° turn. Yes folks, Melissa is in a relationship. It’s Facebook official and everything! This whole thing happened so quickly that I’m still trying to catch my breath.

Jared and I work together at the music school, I’m the piano instructor and he’s the voice instructor. I’ve been there almost three years, but he just started teaching in January. The first time I saw him was at a Christmas choir concert for the local college. My mom and several friends were in the choir, so I went. Jared was in the choir too and also sang a solo. I would like to preface the next part of this story by saying that Jared is a great musician, he has a wonderful, albeit uncommon, gift. Jared has an impressive vocal range. Like Freddy Mercury/Mariah Carey impressive. For those of you who know music, he can hit a high A sharp, like the one above the staff. For those of you who don’t know music, that’s really high. Especially for a dude. Well, when he did that solo at the concert, he sang that high. I was so taken aback by the sound that was coming from him, that I couldn’t help but to laugh. I am an awful person. But in my defense, it was nervous laughter more than anything. When I told Jared about my reaction to hearing him sing for the first time, he said he saw me laughing. But I wasn’t the first person to do so and I’m sure I won’t be the last.

Once he and I officially met and started working together, we became pretty good friends and realized that we had so much in common, even going so far as to call each other twin. We’re like the same person, we even kinda look alike. We really got to know each other while working with a student who is taking both voice lessons from Jared and piano lessons from me. While helping this student prepare for a performance, we taught a couple of joint lessons. We found that we work really well together.

We continued getting to know one another better while working on a musical at the local community theatre. Of course he was in the cast as one of the lead characters, and I was asked to run the sound board. This was a really fun show to be a part of because I had so many friends involved in it. Before the rehearsals and shows would start, Jared and I would always hang out. The show ran two weekends and on the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday that we had off, we hung out. That Monday, we both had lessons, then went out to dinner together, went to the mall, and saw a movie. At the time, I didn’t think of it as a date, but that was the day that I realized that I liked him and wanted to be more than just friends. The next day, we had lessons again and I was making tacos for dinner, so I invited him over for dinner with my family. My mom had already told me that she thought Jared and I should date, that we would make a cute couple. Even though I liked that idea, I didn’t think Jared liked me that way. I was afraid that if I told him how I really felt, that it wouldn’t be mutual and then it would make our friendship über awkward, so I just kept it to myself. This whole ordeal was like a scene out of an emo Disney Channel original movie. After dinner, I introduced Jared to HBO’s Girls. He could only handle so much at once, so we only watched the first three episodes. Some how, Nutella milkshakes came up, so we made some (WHICH ARE LIFE CHANGING, BTW!) I took him home later that night and I remember thinking, “yeah, I definitely have a crush”. 

The next day, Wednesday, I went to work for a lesson, which ended up being cancelled, so I called Jared to see if he wanted to hang out, since he didn’t have any lessons. So I picked him up and we went back to my house to hang out. We did some karaoke, played the piano and just had a good time being ridiculous. Somehow we got on the subject of dating. I told him what my mom had said and that I wouldn’t mind dating, but that I was ok with just being friends too. I remember saying, “the ball is in your court”, and he said, “I’ll keep that in mind”. The next thing I remember, we were chasing each other and ended up in a dark hall. I got kind of close to him, then he leaned in and kissed me. As corny as it sounds, it was such a magical moment. I think from that moment on, I had a permanent smile on my face for about a week. The silliest thing was that Jared was being just as emo-Disney-Channel-movie as I was. He didn’t think I liked him back either!

This relationship has started out so unlike any other I’ve ever had. For starters, I did not meet him online, and that has been HUGE for me. I got on a dating website for the first time in January of 2009 via my BFF’s recommendation (she’s been with her current BF, whom she met online, for four years and they’re most likely getting engaged in the next year or so! :D). I’ve met several guys on that website and even had a serious, although destructive, relationship come from it. Since that relationship ended, up until this one started, I met 11 guys from online in person, 2 of whom were flings that lasted a couple of weeks, and a third that I had just gone on a date with two weeks before dating Jared, but who I thought had true potential. However, the point of telling you all that is that I was looking in all the wrong places for someone. Here was this guy who is my better half, my twin, my soulmate, and I was running around, giving it up to anyone who told me I was “hot”, or “sexy”, or had “nice tits”. I was oblivious to what was right in front of me. 

I realized that I liked Jared no more than a week before we started dating. He knew he liked me about a month before. A MONTH! He said he was surprised I didn’t notice him “gawking” (his word) at me when we were teaching our joint lessons. So oblivious was I. That’s been different for me too, the fact that he liked me first. It has almost always been the other way around, as far as I know. And the fact that he actually likes me for me, and not just for my body parts, is a big deal. Of course he does like my body parts too, I mean come on, he’s a guy, but that’s not what is on the forefront of his mind. It’s refreshing. 

I think the most important difference in this relationship from all the others is that we have not had sex yet. Of course we’ve made out, but it hasn’t gone any further than that. This has been a conscious decision that we’ve made together, although I was not too happy about it at first. Having only lost my virginity at age 22, three years ago, I’ve been kind of making up for lost time I suppose. That’s what the 11 guys in 8 months was about. But I’m pretty sure sex is what messed up any chance that I had with any of those guys. When Jared told me that he didn’t want to have sex for a while, and possibly not until (if) we get married, I wish he could have taken a picture of my face, because I’m sure it was quite comical. But after doing some thinking about it for a good bit, and thinking about how sex has ruined my past relationships, I realized that celibacy was probably the best decision. Being with Jared for however long I’m meant to be with him is much more important to me now than just getting my rocks off. And knowing that one day we will get to be intimate with each other makes it totally worth it. 

I am so indescribably happy. It’s amazing. And who would have ever thought that as a 25 year old young woman, I would fall for a 19 year old young man? All I can say is that it was meant to be. 

PSA: stay tuned for more posts on what I’ve been doing this summer so far, such as: Melissa Meals, Rock Camp, the Great Computer Crash of 2013, and more! But for now, enjoy these super lovey-dovey/sickeningly sweet pictures of Jared and me! 

The top picture was how we told my mom that we were dating. The bottom picture was what we sent to one of our students because she was freaking out over the news of us being "Facebook Official".

At work

We clean up rull niiice. 

There are no words. 

Rock 'n' Roll.

For the story

I feel like I owe you all an explanation as to why it’s taken me so long to write a new blog post. A lot has been going on around here, at least, it seems that way. I started on a new blog post almost a month ago, that was going to be about the “Grown-Up Spring Break” that I had with my BFF in the middle of April. But as I kept writing, I realized that I was giving way too much info that most of you probably don’t care about. So I’ve decided to step back, rethink, and try again.

Like I said, a TON of stuff has been going on lately. For organization’s sake, I am going to resort to bullet pointing allllll the things that have been going on.

• Grown-Up Spring Break in Augusta and Atlanta with my BFF
• Moving out of my friends’ house and back into my parents’ house
• Jimmy Buffett concert in Atlanta with my grandmother and aunt
• 100^th anniversary of GFBC, the church I grew up in, i.e.: “family” reunion
• I got a ukulele! 
• Life 

I have decided to start living life for the story. I got the idea from the HBO show Girls. The main character, Hannah, is a writer and you can see in the show how she makes decisions based on the experience that she will potentially have and how that experience may or may not make for a good story. Well, I’ve decided to start living that way, not just so I can write about it, but so that I can have those experiences. Although I know that it didn’t always work in Hannah’s favor, those experiences that she had were hers. I’ve been wanting more experiences in my 20-something life. I want crazy stories to be able to tell, and to know that I did those things. So, I’m trying to live for the story, live a “yes” life. I know that it’s possible that some bad things could come of this, but I also know that some really awesome things could come of it too. And that’s life, taking the good with the bad and learning from it. 

Going on my Grown-Up Spring Break, I was able to sort of test out living for the story. We drank lots of wine, tie-dyed t-shirts, got lost in Augusta, sang along to the Sweeney Todd and Rent soundtracks at the top of our lungs, went to the Mall of Georgia, met up with a friend I haven’t seen since 6^th grade, went to the World of Coke, pretended to be British, sat in LOTS of traffic, went shopping, spent way too much money, and went to the Renaissance Festival. In addition to all of those things that I did with my BFF, I also went to my first rave in downtown Atlanta with another friend, did some things that I’d rather not reveal to the entire internet (let’s just say that it was on 4/20 and I had a really good time), and definitely lived for the story that night. All in all, it was a really great week. I wish I could have weeks like that one more often. 

Grown-Up Spring Break with the bff!

Yep, pomegranate wine.

Tie Dying. Photo cred: bff

World of Coke! We pretended to be British this day. She was Elizabeth "Liz" Evans and I was Michelle Roberts.

Atlanta traffic.

Renaissance Festival!

Ravin' it up!

Almost immediately after I got back from my spring break, I had to start packing up to move out of the house that I was living in. Earlier in April, my roommates informed me that their situation was changing, and they needed the bedroom that I had been living in for over a year. I discussed it with my parents and for the time being, they’re allowing me to live in their guest bedroom until I’m able to find somewhere else to live. It’s a kind of bittersweet situation. On one hand, I feel like I’m losing some of my freedom and independence, and I miss my roommates. On the other hand, I have my own bathroom and a fully stocked kitchen, and have really enjoyed being able to cook more often. There’s a house that I’m hoping to move into, but until it’s actually happening, I’m not really allowed to talk about it. So until then, Daisy and I are residing with my parents, brother, and two dogs who are not quite sure about sharing their space with a feline. 

Phil and Daisy fighting for attention

I think Daisy's adjusting well.

The week after I moved, I went to see Jimmy Buffett in Atlanta. If you know the kind of music that I like and don’t like, you might think, “why Jimmy Buffett?” But there’s actually kind of a neat story behind it. When I was five years old, my grandparents took me on a trip to the beach, and the whole time, we listened to a Jimmy Buffett cassette tape. My grandmother promised me then that one day we would go see Jimmy Buffett in concert. Over the years we’d tried getting tickets and they’d be sold out, or my grandmother wasn’t doing well, or something was going on. But this time, it seemed like the stars aligned and it all worked out. Back in February, right before my birthday, actually, I got a call from my grandmother inviting me to go to the concert. It was a pretty cool moment for me. After twenty years, she was finally able to fulfill that promise. So April 30^th, the day of the concert, rolled around, and I headed up to Macon, made a stop at my Alma Mater, Wesleyan College, and met my grandmother and aunt and together the three of us made our way to Atlanta for dinner and the show. It was pretty cool. Not quite as awesome as some of the other concerts I’ve been to, but still fun. And oh my god, there were so many drunk people! Like people wasted beyond belief! Twas a bit ridiculous. But we were able to survive it. And now the three of us can check that off our bucket lists.

Alma Mater

No road trip is complete without an Instagram selfie.

The Man.

20 years later, we finally made it! 

The weekend after the Buffett concert, my family and I had a trip planned to go to Atlanta. That Sunday was the 100^th anniversary celebration of the First Baptist Church of Grayson, Georgia, the church that my family went to for about 17 years. I was really excited about this trip because for me, it was like a homecoming. Although I don’t claim to be a Christian anymore, that church was where I grew up, the members of it were like my family. I was at that church every time the doors were open, and even when they weren’t open (because my mom had a key). That Sunday was a really awesome day. Although it started out rainy and cold, I have only warm memories of that day because of all the old friends and “family” that I got to see and reconnect with. It was such a lovely experience and I’m so grateful that I got to go.  

For my mom, this was a prime-time shopping trip (and an opportunity to show off, vocally). The shopping down here in Albany is not the best, there’s just not a great selection of stores. But up in Atlanta, the sky’s the limit! So of course, that Saturday, we went to the Mall of Georgia, but not before first going to Guitar Center. We went to Guitar Center, not only because both my dad and brother are guitarists, but because my mom had to return some stuff for work. Now, up until that day, I had been on a serious kick to try to come into possession of an accordion. I know that sounds kind of lame, but I’m already a pianist and I think it’d be a pretty easy crossover. Plus, Nora Kirkpatrick, of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, plays the accordion, and she’s pretty awesome. So of course I had to inquire as to whether or not the dudes at GC had any accordions. They did not. And my mom went on to say, “I’d be more likely to buy you a ukulele than an accordion,” and I said, “challenge accepted”. So I casually sauntered over to the ukuleles and picked up a $99 ukulele. My dad helped me figure out a couple of chords, I showed my mom that could play a little bit, whipped out the puppy eyes and trembling bottom lip, and within five minutes, my dad was pulling out the debit card (I’m their favorite child, obviously). I’ve had my uke for a week and a half now and I’ve been playing it nonstop. I’d be playing it right now if I weren’t typing. It’s such a cool instrument! I’ve tried my hand at guitar and bass guitar, but I never got too far with it. However, I’ve been able to pick ukulele up so quickly and easily, that it’s such a joy for me to play it. Practice doesn’t feel like practice, you know? The only downside to it is that I haven’t been able to feel my three middle fingertips on my left hand since that Saturday morning, but it’s worth it. The coolest thing I’ve done with my ukulele so far, other than getting to jam with my dad and brother on their guitars, is using it while teaching piano lessons. One of my students is getting ready to play a gig next week and he’s never performed for an audience like that, much less playing with anybody else (he’s going to have a band backing him up). So I got on my uke and played along with him on Fun.’s Some Nights and the Beatles’ Hey Jude and Let it Be. It was so much fun!

Ukulele!

As you’ve seen, it’s been a pretty crazy busy month or so, and I don’t foresee it slowing down anytime soon. I imagine that I am going to have many opportunities to live for the story in the coming months. Especially as I’m dealing with what step to take next in my young adult life. I’ve been putting in applications and my résumé at Disney World and Universal Studios, just to see what would happen. I’ve also been looking at grad schools again. I feel like there are so many paths that I could take, I just don’t know which one to take and how to get started. The itch I have to just take off on a cross country road trip has come up again, yet, there are so many logistics that go into trying to plan that kind of trip, that I just about fry my brain trying to figure it all out. I know that I’ll probably never actually get my life and my future all figured and planned out like I would want. So I’m just going to live, live for the story, and live to the fullest, taking in all the experiences I have and cherishing them, knowing that they are mine. 

Something Big: Part Deux

It’s 11:30 on a Wednesday morning, I’m still lying in bed in my pajamas, listening to Mumford and Sons and Kings of Leon on my phone, and I can’t help but think about my Something Big and wonder what it’s supposed to be. My favorite Mumford and Sons song, “Hopeless Wanderer” came on, and it always gets me thinking about my Something Big. What is it going to be? What am I going to do? Who am I going to meet along the way? But the thought also occurred to me that I need to stop sitting (or in this case lying) on my ass and actually go do the Something Big. Whatever it is should just sort of come into being, right? Isn’t that how these sort of things happen? Nobody plans them, they just...happen. I never really planned on moving to South Georgia to start my piano teaching career, but things just fell into place and happened. 

I’ve always felt like there’s a big gap or disconnect between me and the rest of the world, between me and what I’m meant to do. I feel like it’s right there on the tip of my tongue, on the edge of where I’m standing, but I can’t quite grasp it. It’s pretty frustrating. Especially when I think about other people who are my age, maybe a couple years older or younger, doing amazing things with their lives. Lots of my friends are getting married and starting families, and here I am, renting a room from friends, sleeping next to my cat every night. Then I think about Marcus Mumford, of Mumford and Sons, and how he’s only a year and a month older than me and just won a Grammy for album of the year, while I taught a 15 year old how to play “Jar of Hearts” yesterday. Then there’s Lena Dunham, creator, writer, director, and star of my favorite show, “Girls”. She’s two years older than me and how many awards does she have under her belt? A good few. All I have is this blog, and you, the person reading it.

I’m sorry for doing this to you, though, making you read all my crap. I probably sound kind of whiny. But I write all of this for three reasons: first, to just get it out of my head, second, in hopes that someone may read it and be able to relate and possibly take something away from it, and third, so that maybe someone who has gone through what I’m going through can pipe up and give me some advice as to what I should be doing with my life. Anyone?

For those of you who don’t already know, I live in Albany, Georgia. This area is also known as Sowega, South West Georgia. I am so torn about this town. I love it and hate it at the same time. I love it because of the historical significance it holds for my family and me. My great-grandfather was mayor for several years and he and his sons, did a lot that helped make Albany the way it is today (in a good way, of course). He basically saved Albany and the surrounding areas from the Depression, and it was mostly because of Coca Cola. My family owned about 10 Coke bottling plants in the Sowega area. I am very proud to share the same name as my great-grandfather, and it’s a good name to have around here. I also love it because of my jobs. I work at a music school where we teach music lessons in a somewhat alternative way. It’s awesome. We always have a good time there. I also work as the stage manager for the Albany Symphony Orchestra. The work that I do with the ASO is perfect for me because it combines both my love for music and my love for the theatre into one. Both the music studio and the auditorium where the symphony plays are located downtown. They are both in great locations, and that’s the other thing I love about Albany, its downtown has the potential to be really awesome and I love the fact that I get to go down there every day. What I hate about Albany...well, it really comes down to the people. There’s so much negativity from the people who live here about living here, that it makes you hate living here too! I think many people in the area don’t realize how awesome downtown really is. They only hear about shootings and robberies and other bad things that happen just outside of downtown, and that deters them from enjoying the beautiful parts of the city. There’s not a whole lot of that bad stuff actually happening downtown. And if more people can see that, and see that downtown is fairly safe, then that will make the city that much more pleasant to be in. 

I say all of that to say this: I know that I’m probably not going to be much more than a piano teacher and stage manager staying here in Albany. I know that if I want to do Something Big, that I’ll probably have to go somewhere else to do it. I just hate the thought of leaving, of leaving my family, of leaving my jobs, of leaving the handful of good friends I’ve made here. Yet, I feel like I might soon outgrow this town. It feels bittersweet to say that, but it’s true. And to get super personal here, if I want to meet a decent guy to like date, and marry, and make babies with, I’m probably going to need to look elsewhere. So far, Albany has not proven to contain many serious prospects (look, I’m 25 and starting to have baby feels...I’m ready to get this show on the road, if you know what I mean). 

But I feel like I’m still stuck where I started, wondering what I am supposed to do with my life? What am I supposed to be, where am I supposed to go? I have all of these thoughts and ideas and dreams and then I get mad at myself for sitting on my ass just thinking about it and wondering about my life rather than getting up, going out, and doing it. Ugh. It’s frustrating and fairly exhausting. I just don’t know where to start. Any suggestions? Anyone? Hello?

Zero

I’m alive! And I feel awesome! I had my back surgery/discectomy almost two weeks ago and I feel like a completely new person. I’m not all hunched over, looking like I’m getting in character to play Shakespeare’s Richard III or Quasimodo, anymore. Some friends told me the other day that I look like I’ve lost some weight, but it’s most likely because I’m standing up straight now, so I look thinner. For me, it’s like a whole new world. A new world where I’m not in pain every moment. A new world where I don’t have to numb myself up with pain pills, just to get through the day. I’m actually very proud of myself, I haven't taken any pills since Saturday, 3/16. And it’s not because I’m out, I have several left, but I’m trying not to touch them. 

The procedure itself went very well, although, once the surgeon got in there, he found a small complication. The herniation had been there for so long that it was starting to calcify. So he had to scrape away the calcium that was forming first before he could do anything else, then he was able to remove the bad parts of my disc. I think this is why it was so painful. It was basically like bone growing up over the herniation. Can you imagine that? A new bone just cropping up in your back. It makes so much sense to me now. It’s like, of course, it had to be something crazy like that to cause me to be in so much pain like I’ve been in the past year and a half. But now I’m done. I’m done with it all. I was screaming that phrase to my parents though sobs, sitting in my car, the night before the doctor said I needed this procedure done. And now I’m really done with it. At least in this chapter of my life. Spine problems like this are genetic (thanks mom and dad), and I’m most likely going to deal with it at some point later in my life. But for now, I’m done with it. And I couldn’t be happier. 

I’m not completely through with recovery though. I can’t take a bath or do any heavy lifting or bending over for another month or so. But once that time period is over, I’ll be good to go! I’ve also still got numbness going down my left leg to my toes. It’s not really painful, just really annoying. I’ll probably still have that for a couple more weeks, but I’ll be glad once it’s gone. I just got the OK from my doctor to start doing some cardio and core workouts to strengthen the muscles around where my disc is that was operated on, to keep any other problems from happening. Last night I made a schedule of what exercises I need to do every day. I figured that if I make a schedule or list, I’ll hold myself accountable better; I’ll be able to see what I need to do and can cross it off once it’s done. 

I’m so glad to be done with this for now. I’m thankful to my doctor and everyone involved in making my surgery a success, I had a really great team taking care of me. I’m thankful to my parent’s and brother for taking care of me and allowing me to crash at their house for a few days while I was recuperating. And finally, I’m thankful to my other family members and friends who have seen me going through this and have put up with me being a cripple/pill popper. I wouldn’t be where I am right now if it weren’t for all of these people I’ve mentioned. Thanks again, and here’s to making the rest of this year awesome!

Hanging out with Phil, eating Cheezits, the night after my surgery.

Two days after my surgery, I was out and about with some new shoes, taking pictures of my brother and me and giant crosses. 

*Insert Hallelujah Chorus here*

I promise this post will be much shorter than the last one! Besides, this is really just a continuation of the last post. I thought my avid readers (all five of you) would like to know that I had another MRI done on Monday, two days ago. Today, I had an appointment which was originally supposed to be a follow-up to my epidural that I had two weeks ago, but it also doubled as an appointment to find out the results of my MRI. My parents were kind enough to come to this appointment with me, they don't always do that. Before I saw the doctor, the PA came in and asked me how I was feeling, took my blood pressure, and asked if I felt that the injection had helped any. I promptly told him, "no". I also went on to say that I was feeling OK today, but yesterday was awful that I rated it a 9 on the 0-10 scale. I very rarely give a 9. But yesterday's pain was so bad that I was at work for less than ten minutes before I had to leave. I started crying as my boss was helping me out to my car and I ended up having some kind of hyperventilating panic attack thing. I sat in my car, because it's the only seat that is comfortable to me right now, sobbing uncontrollably, with my boss holding my hand as he called my dad for back-up. My dad got there and we made the decision to take myself to my parent's house. So off we went to my parent's house, while my boss taught my lesson for me. I rested for the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening in the guest bedroom, with my family's dog, Phil, keeping me company. I was still in a good bit of pain, but it was nice to get that rest.

Phil, my little guard dog. :)

The next day, today, I got up, had lunch with my mom and brother, went home to get cleaned up, and headed to the doctor's office. Once I got back into a room, I had the aforementioned run down with the PA, and my dad arrived. Then the doctor came in and my mom arrived shortly after. This was my first time meeting this doctor. The dude I had the first two times I dealt with the back pain recently moved away and this guy was his replacement. The first thing he said to me was, "well, your herniation is impressive." Doctors always find odd things to say when they see your organs. I've been told I have ugly tonsils, beautiful ovaries, and now an "impressive" herniated disc. What he meant by that was that my herniation is really big. No kidding, dude, I probably could have told you that!

What I've always been told by my last doctor is that I'm too young to be having surgery on my back. I even cried in his office when he told me he still didn't want to do surgery. Well folks, turns out that there's a procedure that can be done, which is much less invasive than a spinal fusion (the surgery that I'm "too young" for) and that, my friends, is called a discectomy. With a discectomy, all the surgeon does is make a small incision in the back and removes the pieces of the disc that have been herniated. Like I said, the procedure is much less invasive and is actually outpatient, only takes about 45 minutes, and has a short recovery time. The doctor explained all of this to my parents and me, and when he asked whether I wanted to go ahead with the surgery, I pretty much said, "where do I sign?" So I am EXTREMELY happy to say that I will be having a discectomy this Friday, March 8th, 2013 at 11:30 am at my doctor's office, in their surgical center. The funny thing about the date is that it is exactly 3 years to the day since I had my gallbladder removed.

I am so excited about this surgery. I suppose most people are nervous about having surgery, but I'm not at all, considering how much better I'm going to feel afterward. My doctor told me that most people feel immediate relief after having this procedure done. That's probably what I'm most excited about, just not being in pain all the time anymore. Last night I told my parents that I didn't want this anymore. Now I don't have to have it any longer. And it couldn't have come at a better time. I have a gig with the Albany Symphony Orchestra next week (I'm their stage manager) and I need to be able to function to do that job. I'm also planning on having my own little Spring Break in April, where I'll be spending a week in Augusta and Atlanta with my bff. At the end of April, I'll be going to a Jimmy Buffett concert with my grandmother, aunt, and cousin, and it'd be bad if I were in worse shape than my grandmother (not that she's really in bad shape). So I'm so glad that I'll be feeling better for all of these things, not to mention you-know-what that's happening in September. ;)

To end, I suppose I'll say send prayers, or good vibes, or whatever you prefer, and just keep me in your thoughts Friday morning.