Some Wrong Things...

Pack your knives, what???



Speechless.









Not this book, just the general idea of having to interpret interaction effects.

Have I told you lately?

Have I told you I'm going to Puerto Rico at the end of this month?

Star Struck

Ever since moving to Nashville, I've heard stories. Stories about celebrities. More accurate than that- celebrity sightings. Apparently, Nashville is the kind of place where celebrities do surprisingly normal things like have breakfast, shop, and drive around. It seems like everyone has a story about a celebrity sighting. So, in my first few weeks, I had the impression that I'd find celebrities shopping in my local Kroger and hanging out at the Mellow Mushroom on campus....not a chance.

I have had a couple of run-ins...my experience with Michelle Branch. And just a couple of weeks ago, Bobby Bare Jr. was having breakfast/lunch at the same diner. But after hearing my neighbors stories about Robert Plant gardening three streets over from where I currently live while he was recording the album with Krauss- I keep waiting for the "big" sighting. I'm just sure that Jack White washes his clothes at the same laundromat.

And then it happened. Last week, I decided to catch a matinee of MILK. Waiting in line, I noticed about 4 people in front of me was none other than Tim McGraw. At first I thought- there is no way this is him- he looks too much like him. But after a few moments, a woman behind me spoke in my ear..."You know who that is, don't you?" I shake my head to affirm that I've got a hunch. She replies, "It is. Isn't it so great to see that he likes to see movies by himself on rainy days?" Awww, Tim McGraw is just like me.

For me, McGraw is one of the biggest Nashville celebrity sightings (excluding Plant "planting") that I could experience. See, I'm not a fan of country music, particularly contemporary pop country music. There was a time though, that I was secretly purchasing country tapes from mail-order music clubs. I say secretly because the whole reason I was even purchasing from the music club is out of pure shame. There was absolutely no way I was walking into the record store and asking the person working there for the latest Martina McBride album.

Why was I listening to country music? I went native. I was surrounded by folks where I worked and lived by people who listened to nothing but country music. At work, the television was constantly on CMT. And I'll be honest, after a while, it doesn't sound that bad. Hell, I've said the same about The Dead after forced repeat listenings.

My first (and I do believe last) country crush was on Tim McGraw.

After all those tapes have long been thrown out or donated to some unsuspecting Goodwill, there is one that I keep. I couldn't throw it out despite the 5 moves I've made since then. As I scale down for each move, it survives. It is the Tim McGraw tape that I bought all those years ago. And yes, I was more than excited to see him standing in line to see a movie (for those of you that are curious, it was The Reader).

I resolve

Since the new year, I've been thinking on the idea of resolutions. I don't know why I feel compelled to think about them or to even attempt to compile a list, but every year I make an attempt. To be honest (a resolution?), I didn't start on New Years. Rather, I spent New Years Day rather horizontal- and no, not like that. I could barely move. I had a rather fun celebration the night before and pretty much ended up out of commission for about 36 hours. Alas, I thought on making a resolution that involved not drinking too much and playing with fireworks- but who am I kidding?

Then today, it dawned on me that I don't necessarily need resolutions regarding my year- but as Day One of my second semester at school rolls around, I thought I might need resolutions in regards to how I spend my next four months.

One, I resolve to actually cook and eat food during the semester. I will not simply pour my food from a can or box or bag. I will take the time to sit down and enjoy a good meal, regardless of how difficult or busy my semester gets.

Two, I resolve to do a better job of keeping in touch with friends and family, regardless of how the next four months happen. This includes Tim and the cats, as many days passed where I think I barely spoke to them or acknowledged their shared experience in my home.

Three, I resolve to spend more time in the city that is Nashville, instead of the holy temple that is Garland Hall. During the break, I made a visit to the art museum. I need to do this more. I need to venture out into the community.

Four, I resolve to take both an art and dance class. I planned this last semester and it didn't pan out. I refuse to allow myself to get too busy and forget that there are other enjoyable things in the world besides statistics.

Five, and lastly, I resolve to have fun. I know this seems like an odd resolution- and vague at that- but when the thick of the semester arrives, fun is a luxury. Going out with friends to talk about music or watching Old School and drinking beer seems like the last priority on a list of a thousand priorities.

Multicollinearity: Holiday Music for Nerds

Here is the 2008 holiday mix.

Bye Bye Bye- Plants and Animals
Some Kinda Love- The Velvet Underground
Don't Think Twice, It's All Right- Bob Dylan
Sun Down- Nik Freitas
Everyone I Know Is Listening to Crunk- Lightspeed Champion
I Wanna Be Like You- The Morning Benders
You Have to Be Joking- The Flaming Lips
Teenage Kicks- Nouvelle Vague
Yeah Sapphire- The Hold Steady
Geography- Thao
Trouble In Mind- Sister Rosetta Tharpe
My Only Offer- Mates of State
Calling and Not Calling My Ex- Okkervil River
The Worm In the Apple- Ezra Furman and the Harpoons
I've Been Loving You Too Long- Otis Redding


I've also posted a link to the iMix in case you'd like to find the songs online or you forgot to thank me sometime in the last 5 years.

Oh, regression- you are the bane of my existence.

The last two weeks and the next 5 days of my life have been and will be possibly the most difficult of my academic career. I'm not sure if I forgot what it was like to be in school or perhaps now that I'm climbing the floors of the ivory tower- but fuck, every single day adds another dimension of anxiety and tension. It is final exam week around here. Between two final exams in my statistics class, I've been chaotically writing two 15 to 30 page papers.

My ability to juggle and think efficiently has increased ten-fold. I realized you can actually type a paper while eating, at least if you like handheld food and can type pretty quickly with one hand. It is also possible to write out (hopefully semi-coherent) Christmas cards while watching Top Chef. I'm half surprised I haven't figured out a way to drink, smoke, and read- all while in the shower.

To be honest though, I thought I was on top of it. I felt like I was making progress toward a final goal of freedom which will arrive on Tuesday when I turn in my final paper. I thought this- at least until today, when it all felt like it came crashing down. Horribly melodramatic, I know, but it wasn't until my statistics final today that I felt like drinking a bottle of whiskey- and this time without trying to do any other work.

So, what happened? Fuck if I know. I know this though, sometime around 3:45 (about 45 minutes into the exam), I hit a brick wall. For the next hour and a half, I kept trying to find a way around the wall, but as the anxious minutes quickly ticked past- there seemed to be no way around it.

And I hate to say this more than anything, but I actually felt bad about it. Believe it or not. I'm a pretty flippant person, particularly about grades and school work. I go with it. I throw in the towel when I'm done- and usually don't look back. But for the first time in my entire academic career, I actually shed a tear. I know, I hate to even write it, but it happened.

It just felt so overwhelming. So disappointing. All that work and all that time seemed to be in vain. Now I realize (after a couple of beers and hours) it isn't. And after hearing endless attempts at reassurance..."I'm sure you really did great." I still feel pretty bummed about it. I suppose it might because for the first time I really care about how I did. And I sucked.

Farewell, Professor...

When I first started watching baseball, I immediately fell in love with Greg Maddux. Are you kidding me, check out the picture below- how could you not? No, really. How could you? Maddux looked completely out of sorts while pitching, with that tongue and all. But I loved him. I loved him because it is Maddux that made me realize how fascinating the game of baseball is. It wasn't until I watched Maddux take a hitter all the way up in the count that I saw the true essence of the struggle. So, when people would say to me, "Oh, baseball games, I don't watch those on television. They are so slow and boring." I always knew they either hadn't seen Maddux pitch or they were hopeless fools that were never going to get it anyways.

It always seemed like each pitch for Maddux was intentional. It was the best pitch he had in him. And it felt like he was fucking with the hitter a little bit. Rocking them back and forth on the plate, a ball, a strike, a change-up, you just couldn't count on knowing exactly what was coming out of that arm. I can remember back around the late 1990s watching Maddux pitch for the Braves and recognizing that each pitch meant something. This was the game.

"And it is with bittersweet emotions" that I bid you farewell and happy retirement, Maddux.


And here is a quote from an article on ESPN.com

"There's really not a lot you can do to improve it," Maddux said. "The game of baseball is almost perfect the way it is."

Hey, he should know.

Turkey Day?

Thanksgiving is a weird time for me for numerous reasons. This year it is awkward because it is almost the teaser before the end of the semester. Instead of being able to lay on my mother's couch after eating too much food, I'll be tearing through several books that I need to read to be able to write my many, many papers that are due in merely two weeks.

Beyond that, I'm pretty sure that Thanksgiving is a holiday that I disagree with on a number of human rights and animal rights issues. Luckily, I've been a vegetarian long enough now that people have stopped asking me in absolute disbelief about what I'll eat for the hedonistic holiday.

And even further than that, I have some pretty horrible memories attached to Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the time in Boone in Cabin #4 with my family and an old friend. And Thanksgiving always reminds me of the last time I saw my dad. Most of you probably know that my dad passed away on December 1, 2000. We didn't have the best relationship and years had passed since I had seen him- when I received "the call." He had been living with MS for several years and it had finally beat him. I got the call with the old cliched narrative, "He's asking for you."

So, on the Monday after Thanksgiving, my mom and I got into a car and drove to see him. The whole trip down I kept thinking about my carefree Thanksgiving. How I was eating with my family, laughing and talking- never realizing what was waiting for me at the end of the weekend. What I always remember the most about the trip was my mom and I listening to an album by The Good Life. In particular, this song always resonates about that time.

A Golden Exit

I can see the chill in the air between us.
I can feel the winter coming, we're frozen in our stares.
And we know there's a world outside of these insults and injuries.
Maybe we're just too, afraid to be one.
The autumn sets a golden exit, the winter is waxing.
The cold sun will shed no more warmth into our living rooms.
Where we dream our dreams, where we wait for sleep.
Maybe we'll wake up with golden wings,
and fly over the city screaming, take me.

I woke up this morning to the silence of falling snow.
These graces of beauty have left me so cold.
I once had a heart, but hearts are like snowflakes,
and snowflakes, one warm touch and they melt away.
Maybe we'll get wings. Maybe anything.
Just anything to set us free. Maybe we'll wake up.
A golden exit.
Must we always wait for sleep?

We are the Champions!

Congratulations Obama and Biden!

I never knew I felt patriotic. Not until tonight.

Catastrophically Getting Older

I was reading an interview with Woody Allen that a good friend passed on to me...

DM (Douglas McGrath the interviewer): What's the worst thing about getting older?

WA: Well, your body breaks down and you're closer to death. So that's an unbeatable combination.

DM: Is there anything good about it?

WA: There's nothing good about getting older. Absolutely nothing. The amount of wisdom and experience you gain is negligible compared to what you lose. You do gain a couple of things- a little bittersweet and sour wisdom from your heartbreaks and failures. But what you lose is so catastrophic in every other way.

DM: Not a good trade.

WA: No. And, consequently, the whole thrust of science and the medical profession is to try and prevent it- to try to prolong life, to keep you from dying, to keep you from getting older, to rejuvenate you. I mean, that's everybody's wish. The fountain of youth is everybody's sought-after thing.

DM: You've written a lot about death over the years. Have your feelings about it changed at all?

WA: No. Death is a no-win proposition. Because you know what happens? You die. I'm not a religious person, so you die, and then you disintegrate in one way or another- and you're gone. That's it. There's no other at bat. It's one strike, and you're out.


But what you lose is so catastrophic in every other way. Indeed.

My civic duty...

I voted yesterday. What does this picture have to do with it? Tim and I are holding up our voting cards. I would have documented the actual process, but that seemed like overkill. I do have to say this though- I got misty-eyed looking at the ballot and seeing Obama's name there. I'm feeling overwhelmed by the sheer historic moment of all of this. And I feel nervous. I'll probably have trouble sleeping on Monday night, like a kid on Christmas Eve.

Photos of Apartment and Neighborhood

I know I've totally been slack about getting some photos up for my long lost friends in various parts of the world- so here you go.

I call this chapter "getting perspective"...

Despite the fact that my calendar is filled with numerous appointments, classes, meetings, and homework, I'm trying to learn how to gain perspective in my life. I've been sleeping less than normal lately, trying to catch up on school work and actually manage to maintain a normal life. A life that contains not only an academic training, but also a social life. I desire to ask everyone who has gone through this same experience, is it possible? Particularly the first semester.

Instead of questioning it, the first few weeks, I've surrendered to the life of school from 6 in the morning until midnight. I barely make time for anything else. Tonight, I decide to make some time for socializing, which I incredibly enjoyed. I needed it.

On my way home from the evening, I realized I'm starting to feel at home in Nashville. I saw this one particular sign which always indicates to me I'm almost home and it felt like that...home. This is good. I'm happy about this.

But after arriving home and checking my (school) email, I was informed that one of my students received a call this morning that her brother was killed in a car accident. It was forwarded to me from the professor I'm working for with the message, "awful"...and it is. It caught me off guard. I was expecting some information about school. I was expecting some instruction for the following week. And it was then, I realized my priorities have been all out of wack. I've given into the pressures of graduate school and carelessly forgotten EVERYTHING else.

And it was then I thought, I need some perspective. I need to remember my real priorities. I mean, school is school. There are expectations, but there are other things in my life that are far more important than a document citing the papers I've read, written, contributed to...and it was then I felt guilty. Guilty because I'm not sure how to re-prioritize and still enable myself to be successful in all the ways I hope. Though, I'm certainly realizing that I need to think about what is important. Finishing my paper and my presentation and my research is certainly important within a certain world. But this isn't the only world. This isn't all that there is...so I'm hoping to in the next week find a careful balance between expectations and my desires, all the while remembering the things that are most important to me.

There will be a lot of explaining to do...

I agree. There is a lot of explaining. Where the hell have I been for the last month? I have simply one answer. School. Yes, It is kicking my ass. This time around the experience is kicking my ass in numerous ways. I have some mornings where I wake up and think I could possibly skip town with my loan money, but then I question if the department would still pay me? Some mornings I'm ready to conquer the world and revolutionize the world of sociology (Is it possible, Colin?)Most mornings, I'm just tired, exhausted, running on about 6 hours of sleep, while still trying to read one last article, write one last word, conquer one last statistics problem.

I'm learning many valuable things. Most of these have to do with just learning essential ways to navigate the world. I'm learning about friendships. There is nothing like 20-odd new acquaintances and friends to teach on a mass level what it is like to have friends, keep friends, and maintain friends. I'm learning to prioritize. I've already had to give up my drunken life that I so dearly loved before. I've actually had to decide to skip the Ezra Furman show (last week) and the Conor Oberst/Jenny Lewis show (this weekend)- not to mention numerous parties. I find myself saying things like, "I'd rather clean my house and run problem set 3 instead of get rip roaring drunk and feel bad the next day." If that isn't maturity and responsibility, then I'm out. I have no idea.

This is drastically different from my last program. In that, I think there was maybe one or two weeks that I wasn't drunk, hungover, thinking about drinking, or out drinking. I'm over exaggerating the past for effect (I've also learned how to bullshit more too), but I'm having a very different experience from last time.

All of that being said, I'm having a great time. I feel a tiny bit like a lab rat, but I'm getting use to it. I spend at least 97% (approximately 2 standard deviations) of my time in either the sociology department or sitting at my work table...all the while reading or making stupid jokes about school (see above).

Beyond that...the obvious. I'm dealing with other experiences that I wasn't quite prepared for. I wasn't quite prepared for the identity ambivalence that I feel. Yes, I have a word now to discuss the distinct feeling of transition and confusion that I'm going through. Also, I know...what a whiner, right? I'm going to a top 20 school and I'm totally funded..and I'm bitching. I just can't help myself though. Besides, what good is a blog if I can't bitch from time to time.

So, yes, me...I'm at an elite institution. There are norms, rules, regulations, bureaucracies. There are things like networking and appearances. There are times I have to feign interest when really I'm planning my grocery list for the week. And a majority of the time, I spend walking around on the campus or sitting through class feeling like a total fraud. I'm nervous that one day next week or perhaps later in the semester that there will be some huge discovery that I don't belong here. I'm from the trailer park. I'm from the country. How dare I think I would belong? Right?

Now, I know....and please spare me any of the compassion (if that really exists) and the psychological analysis...but I think I've carried that feeling with me around for years. I've always felt slightly outside of the norm, just by a small amount. Not enough for others to notice, but just enough for me to notice.

And I know it probably isn't quite "disaster plus time" yet, but I mentioned this the other night to Tim and he immediately found a passage in David Foster Wallace's book of stories oblivion...and he read it to me. It resonated. It is from the story "Good Old Neon."

"My whole life I've been a fraud. I'm not exaggerating. Pretty much all I've ever done all the time is try to create a certain impression of me in other people. Mostly to be liked or admired. It's a little more complicated than that, maybe. But when you come right down to it it's to be liked, loved. Admired, approved of, applauded, whatever. You get the idea. I did well in school, but deep down the whole thing's motive wasn't to learn or improve myself but just to do well, to get good grades and make sports teams and perform well. To have a good transcript or varsity letters to show people. I didn't enjoy it much because I was always scared I wouldn't do well enough. The fear made me work really hard, so I'd always do well and end up getting what I wanted. But then, once I got the best grade or made All City or got Angela Mead to let me put my hand on her breast, I wouldn't feel much of anything except maybe fear that I wouldn't be able to get it again. The next time or next thing I wanted..."

There is more, but like he wrote, you get the idea. I'm not saying this is exactly what I feel, but given the circumstances, it seemed like a good idea to quote it.

Now onwards...

I came home from an all day required grant writing workshop today (yes, on Saturday) and I had a reading to complete for a class. The chapter is from John Dewey and I realized this is what I'm suppose to be thinking...and it felt good. It felt right.

"Life itself consists of phases in which the organism falls out of step with the march of surrounding things and then recovers unison with it- either through effort or by some happy chance. And, in a growing life, the recovery is never mere return to a prior state, for it is enriched by the state of disparity and resistance through which it has successfully passed. If the gap between organism and environment is too wide, the creature dies. If its activity is not enhanced by the temporary alienation, it merely subsists. Life grows when a temporary falling out is a transition to a more extensive balance of the energies of the organism with those of the condition under which it lives."

There is more -again. Though I think for one blog, this is plenty. I'm learning to navigate and negotiate. I'm trying to figure out who I'm going to be when this all seeps in and I start to change into something else. I'm scared. Who wouldn't be, right? And it is isolating.

I mean who really wants to hear me talk about regression lines.

So, why the bird picture? Last night I had a dream that feels completely indicative of the experience I'm having. I dreamt there was a butterfly in my house...that turned into a bird. It was flying all around trying to find the outside. It seems obvious. Metamorphosis and trying to make it to the outside.

Corruption, Consistency, and Safe Mode

After an entire week of introductions and orientations, I had a pleasant Saturday planned for myself. There would be a flea market. There would be a farmers market. There would be the ever slightest reading of school work. There would be some movie watching. There would even be some socializing and drinking at the end of this well experienced day. I had plenty to do and I'm awful glad I woke up early enough to make all of it happen.

I figured I would do some work on my internet classes I'm teaching this semester, while listening to some various podcasts. It was delightful- and usually grading isn't. I listened to some of the new Okkervil River album, which I am now anxiously anticipating the release of. I thought I'd take a quick break for some breakfast and newspaper reading after printing out a few things. As I set my computer down to plug in the printer...it froze up. Oh, no problem, right? Just restart. Upon the restart- my computer gave me some crazy error message about not being able to show the "native images." What the fuck is a native image? There are tons of funny "I was about to..." going through my head right now, but I'll save you from it. The next two hours involved me doing things like crashing and restarting my computer over and over again. Then, I dabbled in starting it in safe mode. Then I had the disk checked for consistency a handful of times.

I flipped through the manual. And I came to the conclusion how utterly dependent on a machine I am that I haven't the slightest clue how to fix it. I've never been the kind of person who has a computer screw up on them. I'm the person that always thinks "Oh, computer virus...it is a culture of fear out there! It'll never happen to me." I suppose I better get some identity protection now, since that is also somethingI have thrown around as part of the culture of fear.

Regardless, 6 hours later...one phone call to Dell...and a few crying fits...I gave into the inevitable. I had to restore my computer to the factory basics. It was tragic. I was going to lose all my music on my Itunes and my photos. But, wait, what is that you ask? Did I back-up recently? Yes, I backed up some stuff. I hadn't backed up my Itunes- Who the hell has time for that? And I hadn't backed up any pictures since May. It took merely 7 minutes for my entire computer to be wiped clean. I don't think I moved an inch while I watched the bar inch further and further over indicating that more and more of my work and memories were being erased. Ha! How melodramatic, right?

I'm over it today. I've already started rebuilding my Itunes library. I'm up to C and D today. My mom yesterday tried to convince me to see the positive. And when I was in my hour of darkness and she called, I had to smile. I had my head in my hands, I was surrounded by old cds and start-up repair cds...and when she called, I felt silly. Why? My ring on my cell phone is part of the Hold Steady's song "Stay Positive." And it was just all put into perspective. In the scheme of it all, not that important.

Besides, did I tell you I'm seeing The Hold Steady on Halloween? See, there are happier days around the corner.

This traumatic Saturday did make me think about the way we capture memories though. I remember the whole situation that Ben Bridwell of Band of Horses experienced when he hollered at a fan for taking video on her cell phone. He wanted to know what ever happened to people going to an event and just experiencing it. To just keeping the memories in their head- without the pictures to prove. And the thing I was most upset about losing were my pictures. So, I tried to remind myself that I still have the memories.

And hell, after all, I've got my blog to remind me if I forget.

The Week of Rock and Sounds

I swear I'm not planning on providing you weekly with a play-by-play of my time in Nashville, but in particular- the first weeks seem important. They seem pivotal. They seem to be the experiences which I hope will repeat themselves week-in and week-out. I'm also not going to go into too much about the shows I saw, as I'll save that for the other blog, you know the one about music- www.musicismemory.com

Wait, did I just give my own other blog a shout out?

So, Friday of last week, Tim and I were to see our first real rock show since venturing to Nashville. We had tickets to see Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band at Mercy Lounge. Besides this, we also planned to stop by his in-store performance at Grimey's. The in-store was a bust, the rock show was incredible, including the moment I drunkenly stumbled my way up to the front of the stage for the encore. Sometimes, it is nice to be drunk and irresponsible.

Surprise, surprise, Saturday was a day I did not feel in tip-top shape. That being said, we had already planned a visit to East Nashville's Tomato Art Festival. We pulled ourselves together around 4pm and made a trip over. The festival was fun, except there wasn't as much to do as I hoped. We drank slushies, watched some of a fashion show, and walked up and down the blocks. Apparently, when you go to the Tomato Art Fest, you should be prepared to drink. I was not.

So, instead, we left and decided to attend Game One of a Nashville Sounds doubleheader. I was so excited to see my new local team. I already knew they were coming in last place, but hey, I love the underdog. Upon walking in, I discovered just how old this stadium is- but don't get me wrong, it isn't old in like a cool, antique, historical way....it is old in the way that they built the shit and never touched it again. We walked along creaky boards to find our seats. Some of the seats were cracked. Some were bolted in, some weren't. Essentially, if you were sitting in the aisle seat (which our lovely booking agent at the window sold us on), you have to completely get up and out of your seat to let the other folks in. This is not enjoyable if you are trying to drink your expensive ballpark beer. Don't get me wrong- I loved it. I loved every minute of it...and yes, with that one ballpark beer, I felt the Conor-Oberst-hangover quickly dissipate.

Sunday entailed rest, though with quick trips to Grimey's and the Farmer's Market.













On Monday, Tim and I were to attend our second rock show of the week. We had tickets to see AA Bondy and Bon Iver at The Exit/In. Before we made it to the show, we met up some friends at a nearby bar. We were meeting up with our new pals, Colin and Sarah...but also a couple of folks that are already in/graduated from the program at school. As you can imagine, the evening was mostly spent thinking/worrying/becoming anxious and freaked out about our first day of orientation on Saturday. Afterwards, Tim and I made our way across the street- just in time to see Bon Iver take stage. Excellent show. Beautiful.

On Tuesday, Tim and I were to attend our third rock show of the week. Are we getting exhausted? You bet. I never knew I'd feel exhausted by going to rock shows. I never thought I'd complain that I need a night at home. When I woke up on Wednesday, I knew there was absolutely no way my body was able to leave the house. Regardless, on Tuesday, we were scheduled to see Prabir and the Substitutes open for The Silver Beats. If I was collecting my top ten memories in Nashville during the 3-5 years when I finish with school, there is no doubt- this night will always find a place secured in the list. Since it was primarily a musical evening...I'm saving it for the other blog.

I've been resting since then. Week 3 is all about school. Orientation after orientation after orientation. Given the fact that most of these events start in the morning, I think our week will be far less exciting and far more anxiety producing.

Oh, Nashville...

One week into my residency at Nashville...And I finally exhaled. I finally have put away everything (almost). This past week has possibly been one of the most trying weeks of my life. I suppose that life changes always bring about this type of joy, frustration, excitement, terror, and confusion. I have never moved this far away before. Moving somewhere that was 4 hours away (Myrtle Beach) was tough, but moving somewhere 10 hours away was sheer hell. Why you may ask? One important life lesson I learned, take as little as possible when moving this distance.

For the move, Tim and I decided to rent a pod-like box for the shipping of the majority of our furniture and books. This ended up being far more complicated, stressful, and destructive than originally planned. For one, not everything fit. There were causalities. We lost our dining room chairs, due to a lack of space. We lost a couple of bookcases, due to a lack of careful planning in the packing. Note: It is not a good idea to put 30 boxes of books in the back of the pod, with cheap furniture in the front. In transit, the books came cascading down, crashing the furniture and breaking about 2 boxes of my favorite dishes and coffee mugs. Besides the obvious errors in packing, using a pod meant that we also packed the crap we own about 4 times.

After packing a pod, we drove a good bit of "stuff" with us...including the cats. Driving 10 hours with cats is not as much fun as you might imagine. Sabine apparently did not appreciate the fact that my truck is unable to run the a/c constantly. She yelped and screamed every time I turned off the air.

We arrived in Nashville on Wednesday night around 9:00pm. As we started to unpack the truck and car, it started to pour down rain. One of our friendly new neighbors informed us this was good luck. Now, how is that again? The first night here, Sabine was also so freaked out (she takes after me, apparently) that she didn't sleep at all. This also meant I didn't sleep at all.

Our first day here was spent with the fella from the cable company. Then picking up the rest of our crap from the pod people. Thursday was not a fun day. Friday was spent unpacking and jumping over boxes. Friday was not a fun day.

Finally, on Saturday, we decided to venture out into the joys of Nashville. In particular the one place we wanted to visit first was the Nashville Farmers' Market. The market is within walking distance from our new home and was incredible. The picture above shows our first purchase from the market. While living in Myrtle Beach, we often would frequent the weekly flea market, which also had a couple of folks set up with some vegetables. No comparison. The market here is overwhelming. I couldn't even fathom what type of vegetables I wanted. There were too many choices. We are actually still eating from the vegetables we purchased. The butter beans were excellent. Absolutely mind-blowing. Saturday was a good day.

Sunday was our record store day. We decided to visit one of the many record stores in town. The record store is Grimey's. Part of our reason for going to the record store was to get rid of some cds...to make some money for trade, but also to free up some space. Grimey's is excellent. Very cool. Very hip. I found a couple of albums there. Another note: I refuse to buy any more albums that do not come on vinyl with the cd/mp3 download. We also ventured down what is called Charlotte Avenue/Pike. There are a hell of a lot of thrift stores, not to mention the Target/Wal-mart/Lowe's.

Monday was one of those days spent unpacking books. Tim has an insane amount of books. Ever since we decided to move, I have been thinking about how to find a way to store all of the books. In Myrtle Beach, the books filled one of our rooms- mostly on the floor, going 3 to 4 rows out. This was not efficient. It was also hell for Tim if he ever hoped to find any particular book. So, we wanted to do something different. After researching numerous shelving options (and having been told by our real estate folks that we are not allowed to make permanent changes to the apartment), Tim mentioned the idea of the old college stand-by. Plywood and cinder blocks. And when we purchased 20 cinder blocks, the folks at the hardware store did not bat an eye. The shelves are up now. They look fantastic.

Monday night, we decided to venture out into what is often referred to as the "tourist" area of Nashville. Perhaps we missed the lights and neon and tourists of Myrtle Beach. We ventured down to Broadway. We had a few drinks at a bar called Robert's Western World and listened to a western swing band. We then crossed the street and had a beer at a bar called The Wheel. At The Wheel, there was a band playing covers...though, I think most of them were Bob Seger covers. Though Broadway seems a little "over-the-top", we are incredibly close to this area- and for the sheer excitement and people-watching, I think we'll spend a good deal of time down there.

Tuesday was the day we spent money. Anyone that has cats and blinds in their home know that cats love to break/bend/tear apart blinds. To avoid this, the cat-owners must seek out curtains to create a barrier. So, we went out spent an obnoxious amount of money on my new credit card to find the appropriate curtains, rods, and other necessities to start to decorate our new home. After the decorating is finished, I hope not to step foot in a Wal-mart or Target again for months.

Tuesday night was quite enjoyable. During the summer, I got to know some of the other incoming graduate students in my program. I always think day one of a graduate program can be pretty nerve shattering- so I thought getting to know some of the other newbies would be a good way to feel more comfortable with the program. In particular, I exchanged numerous emails with a fella named Colin. We discovered pretty early on that we had plenty in common. We both are coming in with our MA. We both love music. We both have cats. So, finally, on Tuesday night, Tim and I were scheduled to meet up with Colin and his girlfriend, Sarah. (I hope Sarah is spelled correctly.)

Meeting up with folks you have talked to over email, but have never seen in person is pretty funny. Mostly because you have no idea if the conversations you have had over email will translate to in person. You have no idea what they look like. It was sort of like a blind date for Tim and I with a couple. We met them at a place called The Gold Rush, which was pretty rad. We had a great time. And yes, the conversations and interests all translated. We all got along famously. I do believe this bodes well for our time in Nashville. After our drinks at The Gold Rush, we crossed the street to The Exit/In, which is a club where Tim and I will be seeing Bon Iver and AA Bondy next week.

Wednesday was a bit less interesting. It was another day of unpacking. We did venture down Charlotte Pike again to another used bookstore/records/dvds called McKays. We decided to take a couple of boxes of cds and books to trade. When our trade was processed, I walked up to the counter and the young lady working told me that we were given 209 in trade. I thought 2.09 sucked for all I brought in, until I realized she meant two hundred and nine dollars. Fuck yeah. So, now we have a credit that will keep us in free books and cds and dvds for at least another couple of months.

And finally today...we have officially been here one week. I have all the windows covered with curtains. I have unpacked my desk and set it up for the ultimate school experience. The last thing left to do in the house is to hang our paintings and pictures. I hope to finish this tomorrow. And it will all be completed. We will be moved in.

The week ahead brings promise. Tomorrow, we'll be visiting an in-store performance by Conor Oberst and his new Mystic Valley Band for free at Grimey's. We will also attend his performance at Mercy Lounge. Saturday, we'll be spending our time at the Tomato Art Festival in East Nashville...and hopefully, seeing my friend, Heather. Sunday, I swear I'm seeing the Nashville Sounds. When I finally make it to my first rock show and first baseball game, I think I'll feel like I really live here. In Nashville.

I ain't missing you at all....

When I thought about Myrtle Beach today, which was fairly easy considering the daily paper here in Nashville featured a story about Myrtle for their main travel piece...I thought of this song by John Waite.

Every time I think of you
I always catch my breath
And I'm still standing here
And you're miles away
And I'm wondering why you left
And there's a storm that's raging
Through my frozen heart tonight
I hear your name in certain circles
And it always makes me smile
I spend my time
Thinking about you
And its almost driving me wild
And there's a heart that's breaking
Down this long distance line tonight
I ain't missing you at all...

Here are some pictures of how we spent our last few days. One night was undoubtedly spent at Rockefellers. We had plans to meet some folks up there for our last Saturday night. When Jaime and Mikey arrived, we discovered that Mikey had visited a beach store to dress up for us. I think the idea was to laugh about tourists and to remind us of what we'd be missing. As the night wore on, there were tons of drinks, some tears, some dancing, some hot peppers, lots of photography, and some freak of nature feats. We had a great time. And it was then, while I drunkenly walked to the bathroom that it hit me how many friends we had at the beach, but also how much I would miss them. After all the outpouring of emotion, I mentioned to Tim that we should have said we were leaving much earlier. Particularly because it meant that after all the drinking- we only had a 3 dollar bar tab. A record, for sure.

We also spent our last couple of days moving. It essentially went like this...we packed a truck with our stuff, drove it to Dillon, packed a pod-like structure, drove back from Dillon, finished packing, barely cleaned the apartment, slept, woke up the next morning and packed the car. In the middle of all of this hell-like experience, we did stop to have our last supper with our neighbor Patrick. During this last supper, he managed to eat the largest plate of food I've ever seen.

The last morning, I took a few pictures. Because besides missing the folks at Rockefellers and Patrick, I realized how much I'll miss our "stray" cat, Gravy. Well, we named him Gravy. His real name is Batman. He adopted us. I considered taking him with us. I just couldn't imagine Gravy loving the urban life style. I have been worried about him. I continue to worry and think about him. If I think about it too much, I get a little choked up about it. It is tough when animals adopt you. And even harder, when you know you can't take them with you. It just wouldn't be right. So,I am sitting here in Nashville tonight- hoping that Gravy isn't sitting on my old porch waiting to be fed- but rather, I hope he has climbed a tree, caught a squirrel to eat, and then swaggered down Ocean Boulevard.

The End of the Bucket List

So, what happened with the bucket list? How did it all end up? Honestly, with packing and coordinating moving 10 hours away...some of the list fell away. I didn't play mini-golf. I didn't ride the pirate ship. And believe it or not, but I didn't perform karaoke. That doesn't mean I didn't rock out to some karaoke though.

What other items did I complete?














I had planned a trip to the Raw Barrrr. It was my amended #8. It shouldn't have been amended. I'm pretty sure that a meal at the taqueria would have been much more fulfilling. Tim and I did have one drink at the raw barrr. It was awful. See, the raw bar is located next door to a huge restaurant called the Giant Crab. The Giant Crab is one of those huge calabash type restaurants that generally allows tourists of all sizes and shapes to pay some astronomical price for "all-you-can-eat." Then you proceed to stuff yourself with various fried fish delights. The odd thing about these places is that they also have other items on the buffet, like chicken wings. Seeing as I don't partake in eating most of these delicacies from just about anywhere but the local area- the raw bar was no treat. It smelled of leftover fried food. The stench is apparent from pulling into the parking lot- or perhaps that is the smell of neighboring McDonalds. The bar itself is filthy. There are tons of tourists stuffing themselves around us. They sit eating crab leg after crab leg, while remarking how great it is to eat food from the nearby ocean. We made our way through one drink before leaving for a much more favorable bar, namely Rockefellers.













And yes, we did make our way to the lovely karaoke night with Cheryl Z at Pat and Mike's in Little River. Tim and I found ourselves at this establishment during our stint at the beach, while he was reviewing the restaurant. We were originally annoyed by sitting right in the middle of a huge karaoke fest, but after a couple of drinks- we were pleasantly surprised with the talent that was featured. So, I decided if I was to EVER perform karaoke- it would be this place. Our last Sunday in town, Tim, Patrick and I drove out to Little River with the hopes of performing. I had decided in advance that I wanted to perform Handle with Care by The Traveling Wilburys. I thought it featured plenty of parts for the three of us. Unfortunately, Cheryl Z did not have this number in her thousands and thousands of hits to pick from. So, I opted out. I wasn't prepared for anything else. And, I wasn't drunk enough for anything else. This left Patrick to perform, though Tim was still considering it up until the last moment.




















Patrick performed The Beatles' Ticket to Ride, which was awesome. The crowd loved it and he did a great job. I must say when he finished, I was a bit jealous and wished I had pulled it together for an impromptu performance. Though, I'm pretty sure that I made a pact with Patrick that we would perform karaoke in Nashville, when he visits.















Overall, the bucket list was a great idea. It made my last month in Myrtle Beach distracting. Perhaps I came up with the bucket list to avoid dealing with any emotion of loss or grief for leaving the place I wanted to leave for the last year. Not to mention, saving the option of mini-golf for another time just ensures that I'll make my way to the beach sometime in the near future.

Flying with Teenagers

3. Take a ride in a beach helicopter. Or perhaps go parasailing over the ocean.

So, I'll admit, parasailing may have been ultimately more exciting, but after my up close and personal experience with the ocean on the casino boat- and due to some financial restraints- a quick ride in a helicopter seemed to fit. I don't know if lots of people have been in helicopters. I never have. I was curious about what it'd feel like to ride over the ocean in one of the 'choppers. So I did. Today.

Since I was going alone, I had to wait to until some other folks came in- as each helicopter requires 3 folks. Finally, my turn had arrived. I was to ride the helicopter with two young men from West Virginia. Then the receptionist said we need to figure out our seating arrangement as based on our weights. The heaviest would be sitting in the back, opposite the pilot to balance the helicopter. Now, I know that most women would feel slightly nervous about blurting out their weight in front of a waiting room of people. Not me. And surprisingly I wasn't the heaviest.

I finally won over the two young men, when I joked about them being scared. We had bonded.

Here is the ol' helicopter now...














Here is the view from the 'chopper of North Myrtle Beach and Atlantic Beach.





























And all you could hear throughout the journey on the headphones was "AWESOME!" It really was. It was beautiful. It was also a little scary. It definately was too short. I could have spent half a day up there.