On The Road Again...

As of this moment, I feel like there are several parts to my personality. And that sometimes, different pieces have to emerge at different times in my life in order for me to best fulfill my destiny.

Let's name these parts because they'll get confusing: right now there's Model, there's Writer, there's Missionary, and there's Dream.

Model represents me now. Model is first in line. Model is currently driving the car on this little bipolar family road trip. The other three are not happy about this, but Writer is convincing them with a flourish that it's for the best and that it's actually for their own good. Sadly, behind the curtain, Writer isn't particularly crazy about Model either. She sees Model as a means to an end. Writer would respect Model more if she was Stage Actress. That, at least, is something viable to work with. And I can't blame Writer—Stage Actress does sound like more fun. But pressing through the veiled antagonism, Model is still nobly doing her thing, trying to make the most of her time and gain the most from every opportunity and experience, because she innately understands that she can't get too comfortable. After all, she's only here because *Debt invited her, and unless she can gain some favor, she knows that when he finally goes, she will too.

Writer is playing sidekick to Model at the moment; riding shotgun, if you will. Always wanting to be in the driver's seat, but taking comfort and finding confidence in the fact that no matter where she sits, she will always have a seat. She's a lot more vocal, more confident than the others because she is the favorite, the most beloved, and she knows it. She tries to be gracious about it though.

At the moment, Missionary is the whiny kid. Missionary's not really getting any consistent attention. She knows she's important and that one day it will be time for her to ride up front, but for now, she sits in the back seat, grumbling in Spanish that no one understands her, and no one remembers her and no one appreciates her. She knows that's not true—but she's still sort of cranky about it and no one blames her.

And Dream is the quiet kid. The observer. The introvert. And ultimately the most powerful of them all. She is small on the outside, but inside she is full of potential and possibility. Dream spends all her time looking at everyone else, wondering when her moment will arrive. Dream is all the best parts of Model and Writer and Missionary, but there are other parts to her that have yet to find voice; Wife, Mom, Published Author, Screenwriter, Playwright, Lyricist, Producer and even Stage Actress are buried inside of her, waiting for the right moment to emerge. Dream is confident that she'll be driving the car one day with squabbling counterparts of her own, but for now—she keeps to herself, quietly and lovingly reminding the others that one way or another, everything's going to work out.

*Debt, by the way, has an eyepatch and a crazy eye and is lurking in the trunk, delighted that Missionary's whining is largely due to his presence. Come to think of it, Debt looks and acts a lot like Mikhail from LOST.

"But I Can't Do This All On My Own..."

I've been watching Scrubs in chronological order for the past few months. I love it. It's pretty authentic, it's hilarious, and it's really well written. Next to LOST, it's safe to say it's my favorite show. 

Anyway, I've been watching both the episodes and the behind the scenes footage, and I've watched a little of that stuff for LOST and Heroes too, and the more I see, the more I realize how much goes into a production like that. How there are so many little pieces and so many personalities. You have to hire people who know things that you know nothing about and trust them to do their job right. You have to hire actors, who may or may not be or become primadonnas, actors who may or may not be wonderful people, who may or may not believe what you believe and you all have to co-exist and co-create together. It's all suddenly and astonishingly complicated.

When I think about it too hard from a logical perspective, it's pretty ridiculous how much confidence I can drum up when in reality, I am completely unqualified to accomplish my ultimate dreams; I've never really had an acting lesson, never been in any real production that took up my time, never taken a film class or a camera operation or storyboard class, never even been to Hollywood. I have a lot of dreams, but no idea what I'm actually doing.

But isn't that most of my life?

I don't want to limit God by squashing my own dreams and disqualifying myself. He has put every story and every desire to tell it into my heart and soul. He gave me all of that ability without me asking for it, so why shouldn't I believe that when the time is right—He'll work out the rest of the details? He'll bring the people I need to my side, mentors and peers alike, and through His grace/power, I'll live out my dream—the dream that was His to begin with, seeing as he gave it to me.

I just can't be afraid of hard work. Of doing things I've never done before, things that aren't necessarily in my comfort zone. For me, that's things like submitting my work to places and trying my hand at acting in a larger production in front of all kinds of people—not just Christian people and maybe even -gasp- ultimately going to one of those *conferencey type things to do some networking with writers and producers and creatives in the industry.

*I don't know what it is exactly about those damn conference-seminar-exhibition things where a million people who want to be the same thing or do the same thing all come together and rate each other and let people give them a 3 step formula for what they could/should do to get in. I know sometimes that stuff is effective, but to me—it's so hokey. I don't even want to touch it. I don't know where that comes from. It's probably a very stupid career train of thought on my part. But at least part of it is noble; I'd rather believe that God has the ability to place me in front of the right people at the right time… but maybe I really need to do a little more work to find "the right people"… who may or may not be at one of these conferences… sigh.

From Left: Mickey, Matt, Jesse, Adam & James

Okay, so I was totally kidding yesterday.

Except that I guess I wasn't. I guess.

Maroon 5 ate at my restaurant tonight. Well, Maroon 3.5.

*Matt Flynn (drums) & James Valentine (guitar) did for sure.

The third party is technically still in question. I personally, am of the belief that it was NOT Adam Levine, because he had grayish blue eyes and a rattail haircut. He was also way more geeky than sexy and was actually terribly polite instead of being a cocky jerk-- which is what I expected. I was reassured by countless others who talked to them and looked at them that it was in fact Adam, but as much as I wanted them to be right-- I really just don't buy it. I'm like 96% positive it was Jesse Carmichael, the keyboard player.

Here's what happened... first of all, I would have waited on them myself, but our hostess sort of freaked out when they walked in and forgot what she was doing and shifted to autopilot. She apologized later.

Anyway, there were originally 4 guys at the table. The 4th guy, who could have been Adam, incognito, (He had the look, and the height and the dark hair and eyes-- but he was wearing this hideous fuzzy sweaterjacket and black glasses... like he was trying to be Clark Kent about it.), left before dinner and we didn't see him again. But the other three ordered and then talked to each other and to their stage crew who was eating at another table. I wasn't even sure it was them at this point, but curious, I took advantage of the fact that their food was sitting in the window and their waiter was nowhere in sight. I dropped off their salads and they seemed to be delighted and even happier that I asked if they wanted cracked pepper on said salads. I checked on them one other time, even though they were not in my section, and on their way out, while I was talking to another table across the restaurant, they walked past me and Jesse/fakeAdam caught my eye and said thank you again. I said "You're welcome, have a great show.", all cool-like. And he said thanks again and they left.

So there's no WAY it was Adam. Adam is a jerk. He looks like a jerk. I'm convinced you can't write songs like "Kiwi" and "If I Never See Your Face Again" and "Harder To Breathe" and "Wake-up Call" if you're not at least sort of an egotistical smart-ass. This dude was way too nice. And really, way too geeky to front a band with an image as sexy as Maroon 5.

So... Jesse Carmichael. Responsible for those great 80's sounding keyboard blasts in "If I Never See Your Face Again" & those staccato power notes in the bridge of "Makes Me Wonder".

Sweet guy.

Needs a new haircut.

And sometimes, I love my job. :)

* I'd just like to point out that while I do really like Maroon 5, I am NOT some crazy fan, and subsequently, had to google each band member's name and picture except Adam's in order to write this blog.

Inconsistency

I just want you to know that really do write on a regular basis. Unfortunately, it's just not here. :)

But today was mildly interesting and seeing as it's 10:34 and I'm not drifting toward exhaustion yet, nor do I have to work until tomorrow afternoon, I thought I'd share.

I woke up early. Like 6am. I didn't have to be up till 7:30, but I woke up in the middle of a dream at like 6:13. My room, which is small and devoid of curtains, was tinted reddish from the morning sunrise. It's been... August since I've seen a sunrise, but this glow was so eerily beautiful that a rolled out of bed and peeked out the blinds, wishing I had the energy to brave the frigid morning and enjoy what was sure to be a majestic sunrise. I stared at it for a couple minutes until I got cold and then jumped back into bed for an hour.

I got up at 7:30 because I had to leave the house at 8:30 to be at Shoney's at 9:30. Not for breakfast. To shoot a commerical. No lie. I was almost late because an Optimus Prime dropped a devastating amount of frosted plate glass ALL over the right lane of I-65N. Traffic was gridlocked and I was forced to drive evasively because apparently no one else (except for like 4 people!) in Nashville had anywhere to be! But Jade, darling little green spitfire that she is, made it quickly (and carefully!) out to Donelson Pike just in time. For the shoot, I spent 3 hours walking in and out of Shoney's with a fella named Chris. We pretended to be dating and delighted to be on our way to breakfast at such a delectable establishment. Chris is American Samoan and left-handed, which was cool. And the other 7 people on the shoot were cool too. Not a bad way to spend a morning off work.

(Actually, the other guy in the shoot, AJ (who was playing "The Single Guy") was also left-handed! When he and Chris sat down to fill out their paperwork, I glanced over and noticed them both scrawling southpawed. It was freaking adorable. I didn't tell them I thought so, but I grinned to myself and sent Kish a text message. And my infatuation with left-handedness continues...)

Anyway, the commercial is regional and will be aired on ABC somewhere in the vicinity of Wheel of Fortune... probably in the next couple weeks. And at about 12:45 we wrapped the shoot-- which must have been a little too fascinating, because while we were shooting, a car smashed into another car on the busy street right in front of the restaurant. Everyone was okay, but I felt real bad for the girl whose fault it was, cause her automobile was a piece of crap, and she looked like a student. I'm gonna guess her bank account is about to get drained. Pobre senorita.

I very carefully pulled out of the parking lot and since I was already really far into town, I traipsed around Opry Mills for a couple hours. After literally a year of searching and stubborn pickiness, I finally found a vest that I loved. I was delighted. :) I'll be wearing it on my berfday.

I headed home in the afternoon to chill out for a few hours before the girls got home. Then later, Jo and I met our bible study group at Chili's for dinner, where I sat by Emily (who also happens to be left-handed.) My cheeseburger was delicious.

All in all, today was good. Tomorrow? I'm going to meet Adam Levine.

Not really. But they are shooting the next CMT Crossroads concert featuring Maroon 5 and Sara Evans across the hall from my restaurant. And if Adam knows what's good for him, he'll drink a wicked superflous amount of water during the shoot tomorrow so that at some point in the afternoon, he'll have to pee so bad that he'll go careening out of Jamison Hall, looking for the bathroom, and smash into me on my way to the Sweet Shoppe. And then he'll be so utterly, cataclysmically, mesmerized by me that he'll forget all about his bladder and offer to buy me some ice cream.

Or a convertible.

Whatever.

Here's to tomorrow!

Creed

I believe in stargazing. I believe in kisses that are so deliciously perfect, you have to open your eyes for a second to be sure they're real. I believe every girl wants flowers, if just on rare occasion, even if she says she doesn't. I believe in flirting with your spouse. I believe in polite, professional service, and good tips. I believe in paying off your debts and keeping your promises. I believe in being a well-balanced omnivore-- and I'm fairly certain no one will ever convince me otherwise. I believe in nicknames for people you're genuinely fond of. I believe in meeting people online and becoming friends in real life. I believe in returning things as or better than you found them. I believe that being competitive is a virtue. I believe personal hope can be gained by knowledge of the triumphs of a complete stranger. I believe that your internal filter dissolves after midnight and subsequently leaves you freer—but more vulnerable. I believe we walk through life 99% unaware of 75% of the things we are protected from. I believe in giving generously and supporting the needs of those who are working to care for orphans, widows and sick people. I believe that pretty much any time is a good time for chocolate, but I don't approve of chocolate cereal. I believe in walking with a swagger and meaning it. I believe in imagination and miracles. I believe in Vitamin C and sleep over Vicodin and Irish whiskey. I believe in real Christmas trees. I believe in the proper execution of a well-placed cuss word. I believe in men with facial hair and dogs that look like dogs—not like rats… or poodles. (Sorry poodles. I know you're very smart, but your haircuts suck.) I believe in being barefoot and breathing in wide open spaces. I believe, regardless of your ethnicity, in (occasionally) letting wind or water completely wreck your hair. I believe you can fall for someone in 30 minutes… and that it can take more than 30 months to truly let them go. I believe that the continuous act of living life is a production, and that every now and then, it's really okay to play up that drama. I believe in saying every goodbye like it's your last. I believe in eating breakfast and wearing sunscreen. And I believe in soapboxes and passionate rants about important things… and sometimes, passionate rants about not so important things.

Dia de la Deluge

Ambrosia apples are, as far as I'm concerned, the only apples in the world. No other apples measure up. I challenge you to challenge me! Get thee to Central Market or Whole Foods and see for yourself. 

I don't know when peanut butter was invented (even though I could look it up on google, I don't want to, because I'd like to believe that someone thought of it before it was even actually recorded.) but what a glorious day! Peanut butter is unbelievable.

And when you combine the aforementioned things??? Oh man. I won't even destroy the beauty of it with words. Thank you, Lord. That's enough.

Speaking of words-- I don't feel like I read enough books in 07. I'm making a conscious effort to change that in 08. 

Today was cloudy and wet. Very gray. I woke up early to a phone call that I didn't answer. It was Hetti, coming to drop off my LOST Season 3 dvds. I've got two weeks to tear through them now. :) I didn't have anywhere to be until noon, so I moseyed getting ready, read my bible, watched a couple of switchfoot music videos, ate some cereal, fixed my hair and knocked out a few more chapters of The Shack. I stepped out into the late, soggy morning at about 11:30 to head across town. I was meeting a new friend for lunch at a restaurant I've driven past, but never eaten at. And it (The Yellow Porch) was delicious. New friends are exciting. :)

Also, between my car and my computer and my iPod, today I've sampled all six layers of switchfoot that exist, observing/enjoying their maturation from a boyish, three piece ensemble to a solid, powerfully poetic quintet. I'm so grateful for their musical contribution to the world, the progression of their musical skills and their/Jon's ability to pen these modern psalms so exquisitely. I enjoy their music so much, as well as the gentle pride that flutters every time I'm reminded that my all-time favorite band is one who's music, lyrics and attitude I can fully support. That makes me happy.

I haven't had much of an agenda today. It's been delightful. In the grind of everyday life, I can get totally caught up in doing, thinking, waiting, looking and living. Sometimes, even when I'm truly grateful for something, the magnitude of the blessing I receive from that tiny spot of time/life is overlooked.

But on this day, partly due to reading The Shack, I feel as though I have been blessed to identify traces of perfection in a number of little things; ultimately, the glory of God in his creation.

Besides apples and peanut butter, switchfoot, rain puddles, my sense of hearing, the smell of leather and the inherent cozy, contemplative quiet of such a melancholy looking afternoon-- I am grateful for new eyes and new insight... grateful that every day is a chance to start over and see all people and all circumstances with new eyes.

"Here we are now, with the falling sky and the rain...

We're awakening..."

raeY tsaL nO snoitcelfeR weF A: 7002

If you get me to call you "boyfriend",
There's currently a 40% you will marry a girl from New Mexico
Within two years of the end of our relationship.

Within reason, I like tattooes.
But I'm not sure I'll ever get one.

I think I should have a two drink maximum.
Nothing good happens after two drinks.
Funny things happen. Exciting things happen.
But good things? Rarely.

The only thing better than listening to people speak fluent Spanish,
is speaking it-- however meagerly-- myself.

My two biggest pet peeves at work: people who put gum on plates for ME to throw away, and when the water in the sanitizer bucket for the wipe down towels—is cold and dirty. Bggggggh.

If you throw your cigarette out the car window, and the cinders scatter all over the road so that I have to endanger my life and my car to avoid them OR if i'm forced to plow through them like usual, I MIGHT experience something similar to a rage blackout and "accidentally" smash into the back of your car.

I have a weakness for songs that are inherently and classically seductive.

Cooking and mowing the lawn: two tasks I've come to enjoy doing because of the delightful instant gratification that occurs upon their completion.

I get really empathetically nervous when worship leaders seem or sound nervous while they're leading worship. I try to overcompensate for them and sometimes it totally distracts me.

I understand dogs and dogginess. I don't understand cats and cattiness.

I'm sort of obsessed with people's quirks. I secretly collect them and place them in this intangible Vault Of Future Characters.

Regardless of all her past drama, I think Christina Aguilera's voice is amazing.

Since 1996, every time single time I've walked out of a venue where Toby McKeehan has been on stage, I've felt the same unbridled happiness and energy. I will respect, admire (and probably continue to be starstruck by) that man for the rest of my life.

I'm afraid I am seriously and quite literally addicted to sugar. I want it all the time. Even for breakfast. This problem, compounded with my raging, semi-irrational fear of dental work, is not a good combination.

Being secretly attracted to a friend is exciting, but frustrating.
Being openly mutually attracted to a friend is confusing.
Being secretly in love with a friend is miserable.
But being openly and mutually in love with a friend?
I'm very curious to see what that's like.