And I will wait to find if this will last forever

I lead a charmed life.

Sure, I have plenty of problems. Some of them are even major issues, things so serious that I’ve been praying about them for years. But the hard times are more than compensated for by the blessings I’ve received.

One of those has been the number of amazing roommates I’ve had. During my years at FSU, I heard many of my friends complain about roommate problems. I was always left marveling at my good fortune.

That “luck” (if you want to call it that) started with a game of roommate roulette prior to my freshman year. I was late in applying for housing and didn’t know anyone to ask to be my roommate, so I allowed Florida State to pair me with someone. That “someone” was Alison, a reserved girl from Gainesville who thought I had fun taste in music and didn’t mind when my milk spilled all over the fridge (even though she was a vegan). Despite our differences, we got along fabulously. We loved creating jokes that drove Heather crazy, and we respected one another’s space. Our giggles carried into the next several years – we remained roommates until I left Tallahassee in December 2002.

During the summer between our first and second years, I subleased an apartment with Apryl. We bonded when we lived diagonally from one another in the dorm (Heather was her roommate). The six-week summer session was filled with visits to Stetson’s, dinner parties and dancing in the rain. Apryl and I will probably never live together again – our living preferences are completely different. But we walked away from that summer with new memories that continue to bring laughter even five years later. (And Apryl continues to tell those stories to everyone we meet! ;))

Get down, boot scootin' boogie!
That’s Apryl on my right.

Alison and I were reunited as roommates when the fall semester started, though this time we lived down the hall from one another in the townhouse we shared with two other girls. I’ve already mentioned Heather, with whom I have spent countless talking till four a.m. Those two shared a bedroom, and I roomed with Paula on the other side of the apartment. The four of us moved across town to a four bedroom house in August 2001. Some of my favorite memories of those years come from the hours we spent in the living room, talking about everything and nothing or watching (and mocking) Paula’s soap operas. Heather and I were able to spend some quality time with Paula several weekends ago on the evening before her wedding. It was so much fun to watch one of my roommates walk down the aisle and begin a new chapter of life!

Peace out, homies!
Me & Heather hamming it up – as usual!
After Paula and I graduated, Heather’s little sister Erin and my little sister Cristin moved into the house. (Yes, she was so… so PAULA that it took two people to even begin to fill her space! ;)) That was an experience! They are both very dramatic – we used to describe them to people as “imagine us, only on speed.” They too were a bit messier than I prefer, but we had some great times belting out “How the Other Half Lives” in the living room.

When I moved to Alabama, I found a place to sublease using a roommate Web site. Even then, the girls I ended up with (Lauren and Sarah) were good roommates. We weren’t as close as I have been with the others, but we enjoyed one another’s company and even spent some time together outside the apartment. (And more importantly, Lauren was even more of a neat freak than I am! I felt like the sloppy one!)

Today marks the end of an era, according to my current roommate. I half laugh whenever Alisa utters that phrase; though I agree with her, it seems an era would be so much longer than the ten months we’ve spent together. I believe it was on my first night in San Diego last summer that I prayed about the friendship that would grow as we were roommates. I had prayed about it before (hey, pray without ceasing and all that jazz!), but it wasn’t until then that I considered how little time we had actually spent together. I suspected that we would have a blast as roommates, but we had only met once before. I suspected that the next two weeks (in which we would hang out in California and then drive across the country) would reveal a lot about how we would get along in the months to come.

CHEESE! Yes, we're silly.

I was right.

Self take photos rock!

We had a blast on that trip – I couldn’t have asked for a better time! We’ve learned each other’s quirks and know how to read one another’s behavior. She knows what it means when I’m eating too much popcorn, and I have the freedom to tell her when she’s overthinking. We’re not embarrassed to dance around the apartment like fools… or to dance in public like fools. We can have a great time taking pictures around Tuscaloosa (at least once a month!) or simply sitting in the apartment discussing theology.

Good times before Linus puked all over the apartment.

She’s been my closest friend in the state, which has been especially significant in a time when such friends were few and far between. I’m going to miss her when I return in August (heck, I’m going to miss her when I drive away today!), but that’s the beauty of these deep friendships. They don’t just fade away unless you give up on them. I’ve always thought that a roommate is a special kind of friend. It’s almost like having a twin sister – someone with whom you’re so close that you can express your thoughts with minimal words.

San Diego 2005? Here’s hoping!

I created a monster. And yes, I'm proud.

And I will pay no mind When it won’t, and it won’t, ’cause it can’t, It just can’t (It’s not supposed to).
–John Mayer

Maybe I’ll tangle in the power lines, And it might be over in a second’s time

The older I get, the more I understand all the hype about Friends. Though I’m still a bit younger, I’m now in close to the same place in life that the Friends were when the series began. I’m a couple of years out of college and I’m seeking direction for my career. My idea of a good time is conversation over a cup of coffee. And, much like the Friends, a close friend is like a family member to me.

Some critics have argued that the show’s title is a misnomer. True friends don’t kiss one another’s girlfriends. They don’t date, break up, date, break up, get married, divorce, kiss, get pregnant, date…. People are certainly entitled to their opinions. I know it would hinder my relationships if my closest friends were in these situations. But it’s interesting to note that their friendships endure those trials. In that way, they’re a lot like family. No matter what comes between family members, they still share those genetic bonds (like it or not).

That was part of the concept for the show, according to its creators. They wanted to make something that reflected their experiences in their 20s – a time, they said, when your friends are your family.

I can relate to that. Though I’ve always had family within a few hundred miles, it’s been a blessing to take comfort in the friendship of those who were standing beside me. Unfortunately, those friends become more geographically distant as I age.

There, I can understand why reviewers were so quick to accuse the show’s fans of wanting to be these characters. Different as we are in many ways, they have something I want: stability.

Have you noticed that neither Monica nor Joey* move during the show’s entire ten year run? Sure, the others play a game of musical apartments, but that sense of sameness is maintained by the occupation of apartments 19 and 20.

I’m tired of moving. I don’t like that my closest friends are scattered across the country. I would give so much for a purple apartment and a local coffee shop in which to maintain those ties.

*except when they traded apartments after the bet, which never should’ve happened anyway. Who bets an APARTMENT? And yes, I do realize that it was Monica’s fault.

I can’t resist a Romeo in a sombrero and chaps

I once dated a guy who made ocassional references to “the dream.” The pieces of his personal dream that we discussed were mostly football-related; that was part of what I liked about him. (Yes, I am a Southern woman, thankyouverymuch.)

“The dream” is different for everyone, I suppose, but I would reckon that most people could offer insight into theirs upon request. I’ve watched my own dream evolve over the years. While I grow as a person, the dream has been altered to incorporate those changes.

When I was in high school, my dream was to become a big-shot New York Times reporter. (I’m not sure why – I’ve never been much for news reporting. I think the appeal was rooted in the notoriety associated with the paper.) I wanted a fancy Manhattan apartment, because of course I’d be able to afford it on my salary. I’d be a busy career woman with no time for romance. In my high school daydreams, I figured I would date now and then, but never find a man worthy of eternal devotion. I didn’t think I was capable of falling in love; my cat would be the primary receipient of my affection. Nieces and nephews would satisfy any mothering instincts I might acquire.

I had no interest in children until I worked as a photographer at Sears Portrait Studio during my senior year of high school. Suprisingly, my time dancing and squeaking in order to coax pleasant expressions from babies changed my heart and subsequently the dream.

Beginning with my first year of college, I longed to become the stereotypical Christian housewife. I planned to go on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ where I would eventually meet Mr. Right (of course). After I gave birth to my children (three by age 30), I would entertain girls from the ministry in my house instead of being on campus full time. I would prepare an elaborate meal before my husband’s return home every night. Because this was the dream, it made sense to me to lure a man into my arms with baked goods. (My friend Apryl once discussed this philosophy of mine with Candace Bushnell. Bushnell said I would never get a man if I kept mothering them. I was mildly offended at the time, but now I think there is some truth to her words. I also think it’s hilarious that Bushnell has discussed my love life.)

Today’s dream is a blend of those two extremes. I’m very career-minded. Journalism is on my mind during at least 30% of my waking hours. I look forward to launching what I hope will be a very successful and fulfilling career, though I also hope it never leads me to the Times as anything but an entertainment or feature writer. (Relevant and Paste are much closer to the front of my mind.) I’d like to make my way to an editorial position eventually, though I don’t know if the title “editor-in-chief” is calling my name. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I think it’s important that my work be a reflection of my faith (though not necessarily evangelical in nature).

I’d like to remain within driving distance of college football games – or better yet, SEC or ACC games. That doesn’t necessarily mean I want to live near my alma maters, but I’d like to be near a town where they would play every other year. Speaking of culture, I’d like to be in a city large enough to offer some options. I love Birmingham in part because it draws a fair number of concerts, a respectable Broadway series and offers other cultural experiences.

One reason I’d prefer that city not to be New York is because I want to raise a family in a more suburban area. I’m not in the same hurry to get married as I was when I was an undergrad. I once told a friend that I’d like to be married by the time I was 22 (yeesh!), but my preferred age is now closer to 30. I’m not sure how many children I’d like (which is just as well, since I don’t exactly have a husband to consult), but I’m inclined to say no more than two. I want to “leave a legacy” by raising children, but I don’t want to give up writing either. (Freelancing sounds like a good option to me… but we’ll see.) Oh, and unlike the CJ of years past, I have no interest in fulfilling the “Campus Crusade for Couples” plan of finding a man on a summer project. I hope not to “pull a Joyce” and come back with a future spouse, but then, we know how that worked out for her. 😉 (And by the way, you really should check out that link. It is HILARIOUS.)

I say all this today fully realizing how much my dreams have changed with time and how they may continue to change as I continue to grow. Maybe I’ll never get married, or maybe I’ll end up ditching journalism and going into vocational ministry. (Okay, I don’t anticipate the latter, but God only knows what the future holds.) I don’t spend much time daydreaming about the future. Instead, I focus my energy in preparing for said future.

The journey’s half the fun. 🙂

My momma met my daddy in Alabam, they tied the knot so here I am.

Just for Alisa, because she makes fun of me for including pictures with italicized text. You can tell in this picture that I was moving away from dream #2, the Crusade housewife.

Make a desperate move or else you’ll win

I’ve been living a transient lifestyle since I graduated from high school in 1999. (Yes, next month marks five years. That’s hard to believe!) A year and a half is the longest I’ve lived in one place since I moved out of my parents’ house in August of that year. Over the course of the past five years, I’ve had 12 roommates and I’ve lived in at least eight different places. I’m convinced that, someday, I’ll settle down and live in one place for an extended period of time.

That day is not now.

I’m moving again for the fall semester; in an effort to save (lots of!) money, I’ll be living with my grandmother in Birmingham. Of course, since I’m leaving for the summer in two weeks (!), I’ve got to pack all of my stuff and schlep it to a bedroom 60 miles away.

Much as I didn’t want to, I started packing this afternoon. If you didn’t already know that I’m quirky (and how could you miss that?!), my packing habits will clear that up. I always spend forEVER packing, because I’ve got to be organized before I can move stuff. I started with the storage containers under my bed, and I’ve spent the last couple of hours deciding what needs to go to Goodwill, what needs to be thrown away and what I never should have owned in the first place.

That, my friends, is today’s discovery. It’s embarrassing enough that I ever owned the following items – but why, oh why, have I held onto them for all these years?

Oh my word.

Man! I feel like a woman!

Today I was challenged to explain what makes southern culture distinctive. It’s a challenge I’ve been issued several times before, and it’s one that is particularly difficult to answer. That level of difficulty is substantially higher when the person questioning has never been to the states in question.

I didn’t provide a complete answer today, but I did offer one piece of information: Southern women, on the whole, wear significantly more make up than the rest of the country.

No, I can’t explain why we do that. Perhaps it’s something of a southern belle mindset. But I’ve noticed that, although I coat my face in more products than many of my Floridian (and other non-Southern) friends, I look bare-faced compared to many of the girls on my campus. And man, have you ever hung out with Mississippian sorority girls? They make me look positively naked!

It’s no secret that I’m a bit of a high maintenance princess. I do my hair (mousse and wax) every day, and my full face goes on every morning. My battle gear includes concealer, foundation, powder, blush and/or bronzer, several shades of eye shadow, eye liner, mascara and lip liner/stick/gloss/all of the above, in that order. The day’s agenda has little effect on this regimen. On a day like today, when I only leave the house to make a grocery run, I might skimp on the eye make up or coat my lips with Chapstick alone. Night events demand touch ups and sometimes a different eye look entirely. (My next make up purchase will be liquid liner, but for now, I’m just wearing the pencil a bit thicker.)

Fellas, if you claim that you don’t like women who wear make up, you might want to stay out of my region. If you prefer southern ladies who don’t wear make up, I know a grand total of two beautiful women to whom I could introduce you. (And one of them is a transplant!) But if you’re into women who take pleasure in playing up their features with a variety of colors and textures, consider a move to the south. We primp and preen, but some of us (ahem, me) tend to do it more for our own enjoyment than for your attention.

Take that for what it’s worth. 🙂

Green eyed monster
This weekend, I treated myself to several make up purchases, including an eye duet (Jungle) from my Mary Kay lady. This is my new green daytime look – light green over the entire lid and up to the brow, dark green in the crease and green eye liner above and below the lid. And yes, I did spend plenty of time today contemplating the success of this look.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it

My “online, not a real person ’cause he’s an internet boy” friend Adam told me the other day that I should post in my blog daily. “It’ll increase your readership,” he said. I told him that readership is not the reason I write here. It’s more something that I do for myself than it is something I do for you.

Sure, there are times when I hope for a reaction from y’all. (That’s the aim of most of the “mushy love” posts!) But more than anything, this little Web site is a place for me to vent. I write all the time – for the newspaper, for class, for magazines, in my journal. Those each have their places in my life. The first three are more structured, and the last is waaaay more private.

When I’m pontificating on my ideas about the world and the life I lead, I like to do it in a somewhat well-written manner. I may not always accomplish that, but it is my goal. Maybe that means decreased readership. It obviously means not posting every day. But for me, that’s the purpose this little page serves… and I kinda like it that way. 🙂

CHEESE!
And just for kicks, a fun picture.

Your love life’s D.O.A.

In a fit of frustration last week, I made an announcement to several of my guy friends.

“Men are dumb. I’m going to marry Chandler Bing.”

Most of the guys quickly reminded me that Chandler Bing is fictional, but one of these friends took a different approach.

“Yes we are, and Chandler Bing is no exception.”

So maybe Chandler is too old for me and we would be “unequally yoked,” but he does represent an appealling “type” of man. Chandler cracks me up – I love his dry, sarcastic sense of humor. He’s manly, and as the show progressed, he learned how to dress better. (The early seasons with those sweater vests kill me. Yuck yuck yuck!) But in contrast to all of his sardonic ways, he adores Monica. He loves her despite her annoying idiosyncrasies.

“I’m sorry. You’re not easy-going, but you’re passionate, and that’s good. And when you get upset about the little things, I think that I’m pretty good about making you feel better about that. And that’s good too. So, they can say that you’re high maintenance, but it’s okay, because I like … maintaining you.”

Though he’s the “cast clown,” he also has really sweet moments. I’m going to miss my imaginary (non-Jesus-loving, too-old-for-me) Friend. Where will my generation turn for mindless (but oddly insightful) definition?

“The main problem with mass media is that it makes it impossible to fall in love with any acumen of normalcy. There is no ‘normal,’ because everybody is being twisted by the same sources simultaneously. You can’t compare your relationship with the playful couple who lives next door, because they’re probably modeling themselves after Chandler Bing and Monica Geller.” –Chuck Klosterman

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you

I want everyone who reads this to ask me 3 questions, no more no less. Ask me anything you want. Then I want you to go to your journal, copy and paste this allowing your friends (including myself) to ask you anything.

Post the questions in the ‘comments’ area so that everyone can see them and their respective answers.

(I ganked this from Megan, who stole it from Josh.)

CJ designated state’s official hot grandma

MONTGOMERY – Despite her petite size and preference for bad folk music, journalism graduate student and staff reporter CJ was named “World’s Sexiest Grandma” by a consensus of editors and managers from the Office of Student Media on Tuesday. The state House and Senate both voted unanimously to make her the official hot grandma of Alabama. Gov. Bob Riley signed the declaration yesterday.

CJ, a 22-year-old who has made random drives to Monroeville and Troy for the newspaper staff, was commended for her glasses, intelligence and general ability to “immediately inform every [male] in the newsroom he doesn’t have a chance in the hottest region of Hell: Kentucky.”

CJ was unable to accept the award in person, however, because of institutionalization due to an irrational loyalty to Florida State.

As of press time, the entire Bowden family still sucks.

–from staff reports (no one will ‘fess up to writing it! and I do NOT listen to bad folk music! Patty & Sandra rock!)