I love free things. I'm a big fan of any time that there are free samples at stores. Except perfume. Please, don't spray me with perfume unless I ask you to. Otherwise, you could completely ruin my day. But I digress. Free stuff. Yay!
In the mail I received my first influenster package! I was beyond the moon when I found out that it would be for YSL Mascara. One of my absolute favorites! It's been awhile since I've worn YSL Mascara, but now that I've found it again, it's going to be hard to not want to use it all the time. Thankfully, this sample is definitely not just a sample, it's a full tube of mascara and i'm loving every minute of it.
My family is pretty amazing. We all live in different parts of the country, yet we still try to be there for each other when it counts and even just to give each other a little well needed shit talk; like when your hated football team, which happens to be your brother's favorite, wins the Superbowl.
I'd say I consider myself lucky, but I know that there are tons of families that are much closer than ours. But we do have one constant: Our mother. She's not only the leader of our family and the glue that ties us together, but she is the voice of reason and reassurance when times get tough and we all need a little piece of home. She has proven time and time again, that she will sacrifice for us, and I hope she always knows how appreciated that really is.
Moving to Tennessee, so far, has not felt like the best decision of my life, but I keep moving forward because I know that my mom is proud of my decision and that she keeps the faith for me, even when I get down on myself about the progress of things. From having my place broken into, to working at a job that I don't exactly love, my mom is there to tell me to keep going and that everything happens for a reason.
My brother that lives in Florida had a rough patch for the start of 2015. His place was broken into and a lot of stuff was stolen, but on top of that, both his partners and his car were stolen. To say the least, it was not the New Years start that they were looking to have. But his friends, who have also become his family, came together to help them out and give them a start at a new normal in their new home. Sometimes it takes a lot of shit to realize the light at the end of the tunnel. My brother is like George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life, he wants so much to change his hometown, but he's got so much wealth from the love of his family and friends. He will never be pour.
My oldest brother that lives in Vermont has amazed me time and time again. We've been talking more now that he's in the world of the iPhone. I like getting to know the man he has become since he left home at eighteen. The fact that he has become such an amazing, hands on guy, that has so much knowledge and skill about how to fix things and do things around the house, without having someone ever teach him the way, just makes me feel so proud. He says he had no choice. But he did. He could have chosen to wallow in the fact that he didn't have a man to look up to in his life, but instead, he chose to be a better man. He found a woman who loves him and understands him, and as I've said to him, hopefully life will get easier, but he has a wife to hold at the end of the night when times feel too tough to handle. He is blessed. Sometimes the shitty things in life are the things that make you stronger and make you want more than the status quo.
My brothers have turned out to be pretty amazing men. If you asked me in my early years what I thought of them, I probably would have told you that I hated them. But hey, they were throwing gum in my hair and jumping off the "top turnbuckle" to attack me. There wasn't much I loved about them as a kid. They still give me shit. They still pick on me. They still treat me like their little sister. But I know that they love me now, it just took me awhile to realize it. I'm still mom's favorite.
I just got off the phone and was just reminded me that tomorrow is... May 1st. Wow. Insane isn't it? I can't believe that it's my birthday month already. I feel like I just got to Nashville yesterday. I still don't feel settled. I still don't feel like this is home. But I think it's because it's just me and the pups. I've been lucky enough to have people come and visit me to keep me occupied and keep me sane.
I've also had a new job for a little over amonth. I couldn't stay at Pucketts. I loved the people I worked with and the people I worked for, but a server I am not. I really hate serving and I hated the hours; one day I was working mornings and the next nights. It was just too hard on my internal clock and on my body. I like bartending. It's definitely my thing. So only a few weeks after starting Pucketts I was called for an interview at the Opryland hotel. Thankfully, I nailed the interview and got a great job bartending at the Old Hickory Steakhouse. It was a rough couple of weeks of trying to survive on training money without tips, but I made it through with our tax refund, and thankfully, I really like this job. Again, I like the people I work with and the people I work for. I definitely feel lucky.
So, as I was nicely reminded, this is the month I turn thirty. Thirty. Thirtyyyyyyy. I tried to whine to my bestie about how I feel like I haven't accomplished enough. But she quickly put me in check. Which is why I love her. I have loving and supportive family and friends, own a car, two houses, a boat, I have two fabulous fur babies, and I'm finally trying to live a dream that i've had for most of my life. So, I guess I shouldn't complain about turning thirty and instead I should embrace it and be thankful that I haven't ruined my life with too many mistakes or too many regrets. Life is good. Well, pretty good.
Today, I happily had my last day of training and I'm thrilled to say that I am now gainfully employed in downtown Nashville at Pucketts. It's a great restaurant that I've actually enjoyed going to on two of my trips. My friend Lauren and I both commented in August how it'd be such a cool place to work. Live music and good food. The place always seems to be busy. I'm excited to get some socialization that doesn't include talking to my pups and the people who work there are mostly fellow musicians in one aspect or another.
After a few weeks of feeling so overwhelmed with anxiety because I didn't have a job yet, I think it's crazy that I find myself wanting to be home because of the guilt I feel leaving my pups alone all day. To me, they'll never just be dogs, they're my kids. Geeze, I'm such a homebody. I miss home. One of my bests would love to know that as I drive home at the end of my shift, I think to myself, there's no place like home... I miss my home in New York and I miss my home in Tennessee where my babies are waiting for me. There's no feeling like the sheer love you get from pups (or cats) that just love you because you love them. They want nothing from you, but they give so much.
I'm not going to lie, I'm beyond exhausted everyday because of this job. I know I just need to get into a new routine, but man mornings are incredibly hard to adjust to when you're use to going to sleep at 3 a.m.— Five thirty wake ups are insane to me. Even the pups know that there is nothing right with waking up that early. People say your body adjusts. I hope they're right because I feel like the walking dead every morning. I don't think a coffee IV would even help.
Another bright note is that my window is fixed. Finally, it's fixed. I can open my blinds and let some sunshine in now. It's kinda nice. Even though I have the security system and I'm sure a piece of plywood helps more than glass against thrown rocks, there's something about having that window fixed. I think it's brought me back to what I hope will be a new normal here. I feel safer with it fixed. Even though a few hours before it was fixed my neighbor knocked on my door to let me know to stay inside because there were four cop cars at the end of my road, a helicopter flying overhead, and a canine unit in our backyard because another house was broken into. This makes four houses in my facility since mine was broken into. The crazy thing is, it's a really safe area. I think people are getting desperate. Luckily, this time the culprits were seen so apparently there's a description out there. I feel safe though. Is that strange? All the crap going on, and I feel safe. Is it the alarm system? I don't know. Is it my gun? I don't know. I just know that I'm not scared like I was on that night when the hubby and I first walked in to the ransacked place. I think it's because I'm not letting them win. Fuck them. I won't let them scare me or violate my new home. Punks.
I know that there are those who lose jobs or are just down on their luck, but I really believe that some people really enjoy being unemployed. I, my friends, am not one of those people. Some people like to work the system. Some people enjoy a lifestyle that allows them to not work. I can't say that even if I had the funds, that I would choose not to work. I hate not working. It's really my only social interaction. I hear of women who just want to have an adult conversation when their only interaction is with their children; my only interaction right now is with my pups. I'm going kind of crazy.
My sanity right now lies solely at the YMCA right now. Is that cheesy? Does it make you feel like singing the song? Yea, me either. But I figured I'd give it a go.
I'm really having a hard time getting motivated. I literally have no money to go out and socialize. I feel like I'm 19 again and living in Manhattan, broke as a joke. My one big splurge was on signing up for the Y. I had to. It's on my credit card and I really don't regret the purchase because it gives me a place to feel free. I love swimming. I haven't been swimming in so long and I've forgotten how much I truly love it. Feeling every part of your body working and moving towards a goal. I see the end of the pool coming, I do my turn, I hit the wall, I push off, and I swim back to just do it again and again. It's so freeing. It's so empowering. When I'm swimming I forget for that little bit of time that I don't have a job, or that my brand new dishwasher doesn't work.
It's the worst feeling as a woman to know that you can't fix something. I can't make the water drain from my dishwasher, or make the detergent release, but I can pick up a phone and call the repair guy. Thankfully, hopefully, whatever the problem is, it's under warrantee. I hate always feeling like I need a handyman around. Eventually, I want to replace the contractor's ugly lights, eventually I want to paint, but I can't reach to the top of the walls… it all takes money. It all takes a man. It sucks.
I am proud of myself for hanging pictures on my own. I needed to. I can't get to the walls yet because I don't have a ladder tall enough to reach the top, and let's face it, the thought of being up on a ladder that high terrifies me, so I had to get some artwork on the walls. I had to make this place feel somewhat homey. Especially after the break-in. I needed this place to feel like home. I wanted it girly. I wanted it to remind me of my youth, who I am today, and who I want to be. I think I accomplished what I was setting out to do.
I've got nothing to do right now but put in resumes and finish unpacking. I want this place to have some sense of normal. But it's becoming really hard. They say day by day it will get easier. I'm just wondering when Tennessee will start feeling like home. Is it possible that I actually miss my hometown? Who would have thought it.
I've been dreading telling any story that doesn't include rainbows and butterflies. Don't we all just love a story with rainbows and butterflies? We all love the good stuff. The happy ending. The perfect start. Yet, my journey to Nashville has definitely not had the best of times.
I had a great send off from my friends and my family back home. I was humbled and felt so incredibly blessed at everyone's generosity. I truly feel like there was no other way to leave my home town. From my friends who surprised me with house-warming gifts to my coworkers who surprised me with a going away cake and cards; it all was just overwhelming. A night that lasted until 4:30 a.m. and I wouldn't have changed a second of it. I was exhausted and so filled with emotion. I fought it for so long, but I am so loved, and I love my life at home. Right now, I miss it. I will toughen up. I will gain my footings here in Nashville, but right now, I just feel, overwhelmed. And not in a good way.
After a fourteen hour car ride from New York, which included several bathroom stops for the puppies and me, we arrived. We got into town and bought the essentials from Publix (man, I miss Shop Rite) and then headed to our townhouse. I was so excited because before Amy and I left in November, I unpacked everything and had it all ready for my arrival come January. When we walked in the door, something didn't feel right. The light in the entry was the only one on, but I could tell that things looked a little off. At least from what I thought I remembered from November. I said to my husband, "someone's been in here, I know that I left things perfect when I left." He thought that maybe the builders came in again. I still knew something wasn't right. Why would the builders open all my stuff?
He told me to take the pups out and get them familiar with the area and that we'd call in the morning. He headed upstairs, I headed outside. The next door neighbor asked me if this was my place. When I answered yes, she preceded to tell me that my place was broken into three weeks earlier. I immediately shut down. I didn't cry. I didn't do anything as she proceeded to tell me that the cops were there and that my HOA had been notified, but no one notified me. I thanked her. I walked inside. I started to tell my husband and then just lost it.
He was upstairs while I was outside and realized that I was right. My bedroom was ransacked too. My hope chest was broken into. I started to be beyond hysterical. I was mad at myself for locking the hope chest. I was mad at myself for moving my stuff in early. I felt like Rose from The Golden Girls during season one; "The Break In" was one of those episodes that I could never relate to. Until now. I get it. I get how you can feel so incredibly violated. I was so exhausted when we first got to the house and all I wanted to do was take a shower and fall asleep. Not a chance now. Between my outbursts of tears, waiting for the cops to come and dust for prints, and waiting for someone to come and put a piece of plywood over my broken window, I just couldn't think about sleeping. All I could think of was, what a welcome. Is this how my life in Nashville is going to start? It was heartbreaking. It is heartbreaking. I had to wash my sheets again. I just felt like my place was so incredibly dirty. It felt so sad. The house just still doesn't feel like a home. They stole my Grama's coins, but that was really it. Honestly, they weren't very smart burglars because I had stuff that was worth money that they didn't look twice at. I'm very thankful for that. I'm thankful for stupid, uneducated burglars. It made me smile when they searched through my boxes which held my wedding bands. I saved the boxes for sentimental reasons. I bet they thought they hit the jackpot. Jackasses.
If it wasn't for my husband being by my side, I would have left. I would have stayed in a hotel for the night and then drove back to New York the next day. I'm so thankful for him. He kept me sane. He cried with me. He cried for me. He kept me from hyperventilating.
I guess this was the push I needed to get a security system put in as soon as possible. I couldn't afford it. But the gun by my pillow just isn't enough. I'm still waiting on my new window to be put in. The builders wanted to charge me over a thousand dollars: "Well, we have to take the siding off and then replace the whole unit." I told them that I'd look around (my home owner's insurance deductible is a thousand dollars). I was told the glass itself couldn't be replaced. I couldn't believe that. So I searched. I googled. I found. Someone came out and it's going to cost me $360. I don't have the money. I don't have a job yet, but at this point, although I hate it, credit cards might just save my sanity.
It's been a rough first week here. My husband left on Thursday and I have to say it was the hardest day I think I've ever experienced. I've never felt so alone. This doesn't feel like a vacation anymore. It's feeling so real. This decision is becoming very real. And very hard.
I'm hoping this will get easier. I know it has to. It's just such an uncomfortable feeling to not have a job. I miss working. I can't believe I just said that. I miss my job. I miss my friends. I miss my coworkers. I miss the bullshit. Sigh. This will get better. Today was probably one of the best days that I've had so far, besides the day out I had with David Nail Girl . I'm signed up for the YMCA and I swam today for a half hour. It felt amazing. It also reminded me on how out of shape I am. It's official. I need to get my shit together. Every inch of me hurts. I love it. I'm looking forward to going to sleep and waking up to swim and job search. It's a new day soon. I'm thankful that I'll be able to greet it.
Please continue your prayers. I know that they are there. I feel the love. I feel incredibly blessed still. I just need God to stop trying to test me. But as someone told me, God wants to see how bad I want it, that's why he's trying me. I'm up for the challenge. I've got faith.
I think everyone that knows me well, knows that i'm a very emotional person; I wear them on my sleeve. That's a given. I cry during a good commercial. I cry at an old picture. I cry at a song. A lot of songs. I cry at good times. I cry at sad times. I cry when I'm angry. Point is, I'm a cryer.
I'm already feeling a lot of love from the people that I love. One problem with crying is that I know it's in my genes, so it's not going to get easier. Not a doubt in my mind. My mom… bigger cryer. Well, maybe not, but definitely a bigger sneezer. She's not really hiding her emotions right now either. This is going to be hard. I cry.
Last night I felt the need to go to sleep early. My body needed it. I wanted to lay in bed with my husband for an entire night. There aren't a lot of days left to do that. I'm incredibly sad. It felt great just to fall asleep next to him and listen to him sleep. Problem with going to bed at the same time as him is that I also end up waking up around the same time he does. Four in the morning is not really a perfect start to my day, but I wanted to be up. I listened to him shave. I listened to him shower. I listened to every step of his morning routine and at one point I even thought about recording it with my phone for those times when I get sad. It's amazing to me that I'm going to miss his morning routine that I started to hate the second he took first shift at work. Now, I feel sad that I won't be in my house in New York to be woken up by him. To get angry because I'm awake at 4 a.m. because of his stupid work schedule. I cry.
You don't know what you've got til it's gone. I cry.
I feel bad for the dogs. They have a routine. Stella wakes me up in the morning to take her out. Luna won't get out of bed until she gets a belly rub. They go out. They poop. They pee. They run to the kitchen table to get their treat. They drink some water. They run to the living room rug to wrestle. Luna begs Stella to play more instead of chewing on her stick. I'm scared i'm going to ruin them. They're such good girls. They love their daddy so much. Now, because of my selfish dream, they're going to lose their full-time play partner. I feel so guilty. I cry.
I'm going to miss the people I work with. My girls. My kids. My customers. My friends. I cry.
I know from experience that even though I've worked with these people and that we have shared our lives together for the past eight and a half years, that the likelihood for us to continue being close, is pretty slim. It's sad, but true. We share our daily routines together. By doing so we bond. But once that routine is finished, it's hard to still stay close. I'll be replaced. Another coworker will become the person that they come to vent to. Another person will serve their drinks. Another person will make wise ass comments. I'll be a memory. I'll be apart of the conversation that starts, "Remember Dana…" Hopefully the conversation doesn't start, "Remember the bartender… what's her name… the one that wanted to sing…" I cry.
My life in my hometown has not been perfect. There have been points where I've hated it. Where I've thought to myself and then said out loud, "get me out of here before I lose my mind!" But I did lose my mind. I was always the one who was suppose to go. I always said to my mom that I couldn't wait to get out of here. That I had big dreams. That nothing would ever be worth staying. I found the one thing that was worth staying for. Unfortunately, he still couldn't keep me from wanting to live this dream. I wish I could have stopped wanting more than this town. He's helped me every step of the way. He's my biggest supporter. He's my biggest fan. He's my truest believer. He's not perfect, I'm not perfect, but I know he's more than I deserve. I cry.
Tonight I'm suppose to meet up with some work friends for a goodbye dinner. Before that, one of my best friends and I are going to meet. I'm really bad at goodbyes. A good friend wanted to buy me silverware for the new place, but because she's not feeling well, she handed me a check instead. I had to keep tears from welling up in my eyes, as I watched them well up in hers. It was far too generous. I got to my car. Hugged my dogs. I cry.
I've got four days of work left. The countdown is official. It's almost over. Never did I think that I'd actually be doing this. I've dreamed of it. But not like this. Definitely not like this. I have to have this split life. I have to have a huge missing piece in order for me to really pursue this dream. Ah, a dream. A dream that I've wanted since I first wrote down a poem about a boy I liked from church. And a boy I liked from school. Ever since my Grama told me to sing louder because if I didn't, no one would hear me. Ever since I'd stare at Grama sing in church. I knew I wanted this. I've just always been too scared to ever give it a shot. To disappoint myself. To disappoint others. I cry.
So, my eyes will be swollen for the next week or two. My last day at my job is Saturday. I'm terrified. Waterproof mascara is a must for the next week. I'm so sad. I'm so anxious. I'm so scared. I'm so excited. I'm so sad. I cry.
I haven't stopped crying yet. Please give me the strength to get through this and keep my promises. If I'm going to fall flat on my face, I'm going to do it in style and stay true to my word. I need to know that the heartache is worth it. As much as I started to hate this town, it's still nice to know that you can always come home. I cry.
Trying to be organized is a really hard thing for a procrastinator like myself.
It's overwhelming.
Trying to plan is just too much to handle.
I'm hoping that I can start this new year off right by using my little envelope system. It's not much, but it helps out towards the end of the year when I really need to find some extra cash. Around the beginning of the Christmas season the restaurant business is just not booming like one would think. People start cutting back on dining out because they're buying things for the ones they love instead. So when i'm out buying presents, i'm usually strapped for cash. It sucks. I want to be giving, but because i'm such a poor planner, I usually end up putting things off until I actually have the cash or I'll put it on my credit card (fully knowing that I'll be able to pay it off when the restaurant picks up again). I never put anything on my credit card that I can't pay off when the bill comes. That's one of my quirks. I'm terrified of credit cards. I hate them. They're a necessary evil for emergencies, but I only have one. Thankfully I have perfect credit because of my little quirks, so I have a great rate. At the age of 25 I had a 725 credit score; now my score is 800. Not too shabby if I must say so.
This is my little system that i'm enacting again. I got away from it for awhile because alas, i'm a poor planner and I like nice things and instant gratification. But my idea is that each week I put $10 away in each envelope. So thirty dollars a week goes into some sort of savings for myself. There's no point for me to put any of this money into a savings account because let's face it, the one cent of interest I'd make is really kind of pointless, I'd just be taking the money out by the end of the year anyway.
I like the idea. On the back of each envelope I put the date so it'll keep me honest. I'm really hoping I can stick with it this year. I'm hoping that I can have a little extra at the end of the year. My plan is that anything that's left over I'll put towards my IRA contribution for the year.
So here's to starting the year off right and having no debt to my name. It is a great feeling!
I've been very reflective over the past few months.
Reflective on who I've become as a person; who I let myself become. To be honest, I was at a point where I truly hated myself. I stopped working out, I stopped eating right, and I stopped caring about anyone in my life, including myself. Nothing mattered.
Last year was really a bad year for me as a person. As a human being occupying space, I just didn't feel like I was adding anything good to the world. I just felt so much negativity around me. So many ghosts of the decisions I've made over the years. So many what ifs floating around and haunting my head. It's a scary thing when you decide to try to live a dream that seems like a huge stretch, a huge risk, a huge, "you're going to try to do whatttt?" from everyone in your life. You start to second guess yourself. You start to question your sanity. You start to say, I'm not good enough.Why am I going to risk everything for a dream? Why am I risking falling flat on my face and crawling back to my home town?
In my reflection I've realized it's worth it. Not worth the shit that got me to this decision, but this is what I have to do. I've had many late night conversations with my best friend. I've had many early morning conversations with my best friend. I've made decisions that will affect his life in a huge way. I feel so bad that I can't shake this feeling that music is what I have to do. That I'm not meant to be in this town still bar tending and watching my youth fade. He's so supportive in ways that one just wouldn't expect. He's the most encouraging person in the world. When I met him I had this dream of moving to Nashville, but I never went. Years later that dream is still haunting me and I started to resent the good life I have here. It's a hard pill to swallow when you know you have a pretty good life, but your dreams keep telling you to go for it, go for it, go for it… there's more, there's that place where you always dreamt of being.
I've been crying lately. Well, sobbing is more like it. I've been second guessing everything. All the wheels are in motion, and my countdown is on, but I'm terrified.
Is it bad that I want it all? I want a perfect life. I want to be happy at home AND happy with my job. Is it really too much to ask?
I'm feeling motivated. I'm feeling determined. But I'm still beyond sad. In order to try for a dream, I have to leave another one. It's beyond heart wrecking.
My life has been pretty freaking fabulous. I've been beyond blessed. It's taken me having to reflect on this life to realize it. I'm scared of this new adventure. I'm terrified. I'm excited. I'm hopeful that I can have it all.
I'm going to take on this crazy, new adventure and I can't believe what I'm about to do.
Two weeks.
Holy shit.
I've been at my current job for over 8 years. A college graduate, magna cum laude, and I'm still bar-tending. Those people who say that money isn't everything, you really need to rethink that. Money makes the world go round is definitely a better saying.
I'm so anxious right now. For the first time in years, I won't have a job. To say the least, I'm terrified. I can't wait to get settled in and go job hunting. But to say I'm anything but terrified would be a lie. I know that I need to do this. I need to follow my dream. I have such an amazing support system. But that doesn't change the fact that for at least a few months I'll be in Nashville on my own.
I'm going to miss my husband. He's truly my best friend. I'm scared. I'm terrified to be without him. I know I have to do this. I know I have to try my hand at this.
There are too many musicians that I know who say that their biggest regret is that they never tried. I don't want to be saying that. Time is not on my side. But i'm still scared. This is a long shot. I'm taking a huge risk. I'm risking everything in my life that is good for a dream I've had for my entire life. Ever since I saw LeAnn Rimes perform when I was like ten or eleven. Damn her.
It was always a dream. Nothing more. I never thought i'd ever be crazy enough to try for it. I don't want to resent my life. It's a good life. But it's felt like something is missing. It's been missing music. My music. Our music.
Two weeks from today we'll be on the road to our Nashville town home. I'm freaking out. Not from excitement, but from sheer fear of the unknown. God please treat me well. I don't deserve your prayers for something so trivial, but please help me on this new path; I know I'll need some sanity in the next few months.
They say dream big. I'm following a dream that is bigger than anything I ever thought possible. Wish Amy and I luck, she'll be following suit in June. Say prayers. Help me realize this path that I never thought was possible.
I hate the little voice that's always been in my head telling me I'm fat. Even when I felt great, I was still fat. At least to that little voice.
But, Holy Lord I need to go back to the gym. Because honestly, I just feel like shit. I feel lazy, I feel frumpy, I feel like I've given up.
I need to start up my running. Again.
I need to start eating right. Again.
I'm so tired of complaining. I'm so tired of the woe is me shit. But man, can't I just be one of those people? The ones that annoy the shit out of everyone and say that they can eat everything, yet still remain so svelte? Well, annoying people, I guess I'm just as annoying. At least I feel that way. But i'd rather be the skinny annoying person. I'd love to tell people my whoas of being fat, as I weigh 115 pounds. But, alas, whoa is me. I'm not.
I was so proud of myself up until about a year and a half ago. Then I decided to play the woe is me game and stop working out. I'd like to say that it was just my back surgery that stopped me from working out, but i'd be lying. I mean it was definitely a factor, a huge factor actually, but after I started my recovery, I just never really got back into the swing of things, and my life kinda got crazy so I just started feeling sorry for myself and eating my feelings. Shock. Again. As always. Granted, I know i'm not the only one in the world that does this, over and over again, but man I only know how I handle it and I handle it like shit. It takes so much for me to get my ass in gear, it's taken a really long time for me to realize just how much weight i've gained, and even when i realized it months ago, I still only half-assed an attempt at working out again.
I have a half marathon i'm supposed to do in September. Or is it October? Maybe I should get on top of that.
Damn. Stupid goals I set for myself. Well, actually that my best friend sets for me to motivate my ass. Well, at least i've got that. A really great ass.
Okay. Here goes nothing. An attempt, yet again to motivate myself to work it. And work it hard.
I've been attempting to eat better for the past month or so. It's been going, okkkk. Not perfect, but not total shit either. Ok, it's a start right? Right?!
A really great person told me not to be hard on myself. It's hard not to, but she's right. It's amazing how we forget how much hard work really does pay off. It's amazing that I thought I was huge in these pictures, yet I felt more confident than I ever did.
I remember this girl. I remember my fabulous belly button ring. About time I feel proud and put that shiny thing back in there.
In this world there are very few things that I love more than writing.
I'm not the best writer. I don't even write everyday. I'm not the most observant of grammar. I have never really cared. It has always been about the feeling. The ability to put what I need to say down on paper. Down somewhere. Let's be honest, sometimes my iPhone is a lot more handy than a pen and pad. But it has to go somewhere so it can get out of my head and stop haunting me in the middle of the night or in the middle of conversations. Words. Ideas. Melodies. Just the flow of something that I feel needs to be said. Something that hasn't been said the way that I need to say it.
There are so many songs about love. There are so many songs about heartache. But they aren't my songs. They aren't the words that keep me up at night. They aren't my feelings. They aren't my observations.
But this is what scares me. When people see my words, i'm afraid that they automatically feel that it's MY life i'm writing about. Well, in a way it is. But they're not always verbatim. I do have a creative mind. I do elaborate. I do put more into my words than just my personal feelings or just my observations. Please, don't feel sorry for me when you read my words. Feel happy for me that I was able to put them on to paper to make you feel that sorrow. To make you say, "that made me want to cry" or "Oh my God Dana, did that really happen?"
People ask us constantly, well, men ask us constantly, "so, which one is pearls and which one is poison?" — my answer, neither and both. We write love songs. We write breakup songs. The ups, the downs, the joy and the heartache. That's what Pearls & Poison is about. That's what it means. We write about that moment when the gifts come, when everything is perfect and then we write about when it all falls apart in one way or another. There's always that moment in every relationship when you just wish the other person would just disappear; even just for a second. That's the poison. It's either that thought that crosses your mind, or that moment when you want to just scream for that person to just have never stepped foot into your life. It's the craziness between the two extremes. The love and the hate. The pearls and the poison.
I love writing. It keeps me sane. It's my outlet. But it's not my life to a tee. I do kinda consider myself creative. My husband gets mad sometimes when a song comes. He's never understood the writing part. To him they're just words on a page. He doesn't understand. When I listen to a song, I only hear the words. The music part comes later for me. The words are what pull me in. People relate. They know that not everything can always be flowers, hearts, and roses. The shit happens, and if no one else will write about it, I damn well will.
So please don't feel sorry for me when you hear our songs. It's my therapy. It's my ability to see how your relationships are going too. So, if you find me watching your interactions one day, or counting on my fingers as I have a pen in hand or my iPhone, there's probably a song being written, and it might just be about you, not me. There's no better feeling than when it just clicks. I'm so glad that I can make you feel emotional. I hope I always can.
I'm kinda excited that you're almost over. Not gonna lie, you weren't the best year, not the worst either, but definitely not the best. Maybe it's because I'm getting cynical in my old age, but I keep on looking back on my life and thinking about which years were the best. Well, 2013 you were almost the worst. I'd say 2003 beats ya, maybe even 2005, but hell, that was ten years ago, and I was still a kid! So in my adult-ish life, you sucked more than most years.
This has been by far my laziest year on record. I think I hit the gym til about March and then crapped out. I'd pick it up here and there, but mostly I just was a lazy ass and my ass shows it.
I felt very unfulfilled at most things this year. I love the people I work with, but I think I've reached the age to safely say that bar tending is just not the fun that it used to be. It's always been nice to walk away with cash in hand at the end of the night, but I must say that I'd trade it for a normal routine in a heartbeat. I wish I realized that in 2010. Dinner at home, at my unused dining room table would be really kinda awesome. Poor, beautiful, table. At least it's used for collecting mail.
I'd have to say that by far, 2013 was the best year for my music. So, 2013 you do have some redeeming qualities. We got to play at the Bluebird, and we've successfully played a bunch of gigs in our hometown area. Plus our demo is almost done, but i'll push that to 2014 for the true excitement, seeing that I don't have it in my hands yet.
This is my last New Year's Eve working at my bar. It's kinda bittersweet. I've never been a big NYE person, everyone knows that, but there's definitely something about it that feels like a true ending. You can start new at the stroke of midnight. And that's what this year is all about—I've got some big promises to fill this year. I'm not good at keeping promises, so I try not to make them, and I hate when other people do, but I'm going to keep this promise and try like hell to make the most of our music this year. I'm going to work my ass off. And hopefully in doing so, some of my ass comes off in the process! Double score!
So, goodbye 2013.
Hello 2014. Nice to meet you. Please treat me well.
Every once in awhile when you feel alone, that people think you're crazy, and that no one believes in your big dreams, God shows you that you are completely wrong in thinking so.
Friday we played at the bar that I've been bar tending at for 8 years. Most people who frequent the place know that I have big dreams to be a singer/songwriter, but some still haven't heard me sing. Between karaoke and jumping in on a Patsy Cline song with one of our regular musicians, you'd think that almost everyone has heard me by now, but they haven't! So, when I booked our gig at my home bar I still really wasn't expecting everyone to come out. You know how it is when everyone promises to come and see you play; that they wouldn't miss it for the world, but then, no one shows up, well that was exactly what I was expecting. I was so wrong!
The night started off with just a few family members and then more family members. We were happy to see that, but then about two songs in, it happened! The place started getting packed! Call it good timing with the holiday season or call it good promotion on my part, but man I couldn't believe it. Six o'clock on a Friday night and there was standing room only and a wait list at the door. Everyone was asking the hostess if they could be seated where they could see the band. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was unbelievable and the best feeling in the world. Talk about feeling famous in a small-town!
They make mommy and daddy so proud. They are the greatest gift ever. Not only do they add so much joy to our lives, but they helped make us feel more and more like a family, even without human little ones running all around. We always promised ourselves that we wouldn't call each other mommy or daddy to our dogs, but it took us only about a week of having Luna in our lives that we slipped up. I can't believe she's going to be four this year and Stella will be two. The time has just flown by. They give us so much love. These babies are just as loved as any kid could be.
The past few months have been a tad hectic to say the least.
Have I thought about blogging? Well, no not really. But every once in awhile the feeling strikes me to start up my blog again. But let's face it, I get lazy and I start to think of how unimportant my little stamp in the blog world really is. Life is life and sometimes people really don't want to see pictures of your dogs, your clothes, or your significant other. We all like to put our best foot forward when we blog. We also don't like to show things that we might be scared of or things that we are scared to put out there. So, that's why blogging hasn't been priority number one for me. I've actually been pretty busy with life. My life with music. We've been playing gigs and getting paid! What a feeling that is. We have a gig tomorrow night that I'm looking forward to; it's the first time that my brothers will be home and hear what I'm doing. I'm beyond excited!
The new year will be pretty damn good. I'm convincing myself of that…
I can't wait to get our little demo done for Pearls & Poison. It's the highlight of everything in my life right now and I've made huge promises that I really hope to keep. I'm hoping I can become someone who doesn't just dream, but does. I've got big aspirations along with my music partner, and I really feel like we've got what it takes to keep moving to the top. But with big dreams comes big risks. I'm scared out of my mind. I'm willing to put that out there. I can't believe that I've been dreaming of writing music and singing for so many years and I always thought it was something that I was suppose to do. I always thought that eventually that dream would change over time and I'd get more "realistic." But I guess when you're suppose to do something, it just doesn't go away. I hope I'm right.
I can't believe that we played at The Bluebird Cafe.
Amy and I made a trip down to Nashville and decided that we would put our names in the hat and try to get in on the lottery for the Monday night open mic night.
We arrived our two hours early. Amy got on line and I parked our little wind up toy rental car.
It was cold. It was wet. It was snowy.
I found us some amazing hot apple cider; It still didn't help against the sting of the cold snow. I really wasn't expecting to feel snow like that down there, but I'm pretty sure it just followed me from New York. We all know how much I just love snow.
Thankfully the snowy night worked in our favor. We were in. We got to play. I was so beyond nervous because this has been a dream of mine for so many years. It didn't exactly go as planned, but let me tell you, I wouldn't change it for the world...
I was so nervous when our number to play started getting close. I was texting my hubby the whole time and he was so excited for me; he knew this was a dream come true. We knew that we'd sing our song "Lost Chances" but for some reason, even though it's our most comfortable song, my nerves just wouldn't' go away. But I keep trying to remind myself that if I'm not nervous i'm not ready…
To say the least, we have such an awesome story to tell when we make it big! I chatted up the crowd a little while introducing ourselves, but then we started and everything felt so right. Then all of a sudden Amy stopped strumming the chords. I immediately thought that she broke a string and in my head I just laughed, like, this is what would happen… but it got even better. Amy dropped her pick… no, not on the floor, in her guitar! Thankfully, it was endearing and completely funny! We both handled it so well, just like old hat! Once Amy scanned the room for a new one, we continued on like nothing happened. It feel like our first time at the Bluebird couldn't have gone any better.
You'll have to watch the video to see! And since I can't seem to upload it, you'll have to check out our Facebook page. Search for "Pearls & Poison."
Then we made a night of it and hit up the Gaylord Opryland, I had to take Amy there- there's nothing like it around Christmas time. We had horrible flights and a moment at the Bluebird that definitely could have gone a little smoother, but in the end, we bonded more and had a little inside look on what our lives will be like when we're there one day! What a perfect getaway!
Ok. Let's be honest. Don't let anyone sugar coat getting your tonsils out. It's horrible. Absolutely horrible.
At first I thought to myself, in a state of drunken anesthesia, "this isn't all that bad!" Fabulous! How great that this isn't what the doctors were saying. Well, once those drugs wear off, let me tell you, it's not fun. It's a constant battle between dryness and an overproduction of mucus. You feel the need to drink, but nothing, and I mean nothing will quench your thirst. Even when you can choke some ice cold water down, it hurts. Like worse than the worst sore throat you've ever imagined kinda hurt.
Did I mention it's not fun?
I kept thinking, ok, weight loss. Anything to lose that pesky last 10 pounds. But then you realize that you're putting on water weight because you're drinking. A lot. And you've taken in no food, so there's not much coming out if you get what I'm saying.
Then you can't work. So, what do you do? In your week of boredom you go through facebook, pinterest, and instagram. Bad idea! Stay away from these sites as much as possible. Want to know why? FOOD. Everyone and their mother wants to post what they are eating, what they are going to eat, and what they plan on making one day to eat. And it's horrible! Absolutely horrible.
This was my revenge.
That's right Day Three of "healing."
How absolutely disgusting right?!
Go ahead, post some more foodie pictures to your Facebook and Instagram to torture a poor girl that can't eat! I'll teach you. I did actually feel bad about posting the picture, so I took it down. I didn't want anyone to puke; I just wanted to ruin their supper.
I've been completely addicted to sweets for about a year and I have to say that this little getaway from food has definitely helped nix that a bit. If I never eat another popsicle again, I think I'll be incredibly happy. I'm pretty sure that I've burned off those sweet tastebuds.
Tomorrow is my ten day check up with my Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor.
I'm finally starting to sound normal, and the ear pain and head pain has also subsided a lot. I'm pretty sure that day five was the worst of it. I'm pretty sure I asked my husband to just off me and end my misery. He didn't. Aren't you thankful?
So i have to get my tonsils out. I'm 29 years-old! Who gets their tonsils out at 29? Well, i guess the same girl who has back surgery at 27! UGH!
I'm really not looking forward to it, since every Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor has painted a really crappy picture for the recovery. I've been told that I'll be in pain for a minimum of 10 days and a maximum of three weeks. Let's just say, i'm really not looking forward to it. I'm kind of a big baby. And i really love being taken care of. Let's just say thankfully mom is up for the challenge. Everyone says, "Oh exciting, at least you get to eat ice cream..." well not me, unless you've got a massive box of Lactaid along side of it. That's right, what's more torturous than giving a girl the freedom to eat ice cream for three weeks straight, then making her lactose intolerant so she can't without doubling over in pain?! I mean seriously! How rude!
Thankfully, I really do love rainbow sherbet. Mom better turn on the extra freezer to keep me in constant supply. Nothing like mom and sherbet to make you feel young again. So cool.
This looks fun. I keep occupying myself with nasty pics of tonsils and comparing mine. Mine keep winning too. At least before my 1700 mg of amoxicillin i'm taking each day.
Wish me luck. August 2nd is D-day.
After that i'll be in rainbow sherbet/pain killer coma. Please don't disturb.
It's been one of those weeks where I just have to take a step back and wonder how God works his many wonders. My life has been insanely blessed. I have come from a broken home and yet I learned to love with all my heart. Instead of my heart being depleted by the sadness, I was lucky enough to be loved by extra people. I dreamt big as a little girl and always wanted to just be special in the eyes of my friends and family. I always wanted love. The love that people write about. The love that cheesy Lifetime movies are made of. The love that songs are written about. I always wanted someone to look at me and know that they were special in my eyes and that without them I wouldn't be the woman I am today. I found that love.
I've never stopped wanting to put all of the emotions I feel into song. I wrote my first poem when I was 8-years-old when I liked a boy that no one from my school knew. He was an older, church boy. How scandalous. I remember writing down these poems in my diary and then making melodies to them. Crazy, cheesy songs. I remember singing them in my closet so no one else could hear. Over the years, the child in me left and the adult took over. Logic took hold. It always does.
Something keeps calling my name. I can't stop feeling as if the child in me, that is still alive in my heart and in my words, is the reason that I don't have a child of my own yet. The Lord works in mysterious ways. I will not question Him. He knows more than I do. He knows the plan, but if He doesn't and is just letting me take the driver's seat, my life's journey will be scattered with Him carrying me through the trying times. I need Him more than I've ever needed him. He will not steer me wrong. But if He lets me take control, I sure hope He gives me a lot of understanding and continues to let my angels watch over me.
God, if you hear me, thank You for everything and everyone You've put in my life. You are truly amazing. I can't imagine my life being even a little different. You knew exactly who I need when I need them. It's a pretty freaking amazing life You've given me. I hope it only gets better.
