One week.

A little more than a week ago, I was holed up in a Tulsa coffee shop on a cold, foggy morning trying to hold myself together because I didn't want to leave behind that city I love so much yet again.

It's amazing how much perspective you can gain in just a week.

That's not to say I've changed my mind about anything I felt last Monday morning...I think I'd still rather be tucked away in a magical city no one gives a second thought than just trying to get through a day in the fourth largest city in the country. But I've realized a lot of what I feel for Tulsa I can feel here. And in very simple ways.

I love that city because it feels like mine. I know all its secrets, good and bad. I know it inside and out - and Houston is just too damn big for that. I'll never know it like I know Tulsa.

But I kept thinking about it all week - what makes that one city so special? Sure, there's tons of local coffee shops, restaurants and boutiques...enough to keep a girl busy and wandering for at least a year's worth of weekends, if not more. It's quiet and unassuming - has big city and small town charm.

And it also symbolizes independence for me, which is why it has such a hold on my heart. I went there knowing no one, and I conquered. I felt at home there in a way that I know I'll never feel for Houston.

Then my life got derailed, I didn't try hard enough to stay, and I moved back home to live with my parents. I've been here four years, and though I am beyond forever grateful to have parents who were willing to let me invade their empty nest space...I need to be back on my own again. I'm ready to have my own space, do my own laundry, make my own dinner...I'm ready to get back to that independence. It sounds so silly when I write it down like that, but it makes all the difference.

I might not like Houston nearly as much as Tulsa, but I have faith I can create that sense of independence here. I can find a place to live - in town or inner suburbs, I'm still debating. I can find a cute coffee shop to live by where I can go write, be a touch closer to music venues, decorate my walls however I want.

It might not be Tulsa, but my life is here in Houston and I can't leave it all behind.

I can't wait to rediscover that independence.

Home, let me come home...

I should probably be in a car headed back to Houston right now, hightailing it away from this gloomy, cold
weather we've dealt with all weekend. Instead, I'm tucked away in the back corner of Coffee House on Cherry Street in Tulsa...savoring a few more precious hours in this city I love.

On this trip I wanted to come here for the sake of research - in the book I want to write, my main character works at a cute little coffee shop in Tulsa...and though I never actually stepped foot inside this place during my five years in this town, this was the spot I picked for my inspiration. So I figured if I had some extra time this morning, I'd come plant myself in a chair, make some notes and maybe, hopefully rejuvenate my need to tell this story.

Yup. That was the original plan. But now? Now I'm here because I can't bring myself to be pulled away from this place yet.

There's a certain magic in this city that goes beyond my love for a library or a silly little band that resides here. There's an energy and excitement I haven't found anywhere in Houston. I felt it when I first moved here - every day was an exciting new adventure. I sat in on a writer's group whose membership included S.E. Hinton. I met a girl who knew that silly little band, gave me music no one was supposed to have and introduced me to them. I wrote a lot of beautiful flash fiction to capture the moments of life that mattered in my world. It was all happening.

Remembering that magic brought me to tears Saturday night as I sat on a couch at Dwelling Spaces, flipping through yet another Tulsa publication I picked up over the weekend. There's so many people here just doing their own, artistic thing - and it has room to grow here. No one is shutting it down or ignoring it or saying it's stupid. Everyone has a chance to create.

I miss that. I don't have that. I want that.

I want to be able to pick up everything and head to one of this city's many, many amazing coffee shops (I'm on fantastic latte #3 of my extended weekend) to sit and write and feel connected to a muse - any muse at this point, I don't care. I miss that excitement of creativity.

So how do I get it back? I don't know just yet. And I know I can't sit around and wait for a chance to move back here to feel that creativity...because I simply do NOT feel that in Houston. Which is hard because just about everyone I love lives in Houston. So what wins out? Creative needs or personal needs? If I'm going to do any of what I want to, creative has to win that battle. I know that - but I'm not quite ready for that yet.

So I guess my best option for the moment is to absorb Tulsa's magic as much as possible when I'm here - through the food and music and cute boutiques and vibe of the city.

I need to remember what it felt like: standing on those library steps and feeling infinite - like everything was possible, nothing was silly or too far out of reach; walking into Cain's for the first time and feeling like I'm home; discovering new restaurants unique to Tulsa that I couldn't wait to share with my family on their next visit; sitting at Shades of Brown, reading books and writing in journals.

And then I have keep writing about it all so I don't lose the feeling until I can find a way to get back here.

Happy Birthday to...me.

Today I turn 29 and for some reason this age feels like a milestone to me. I guess because if you think about
it, technically today launches me into my 30th year of life - and 30 is a milestone birthday.

But I think it's also because there was a time I couldn't even foresee being this age, much less what my life would be like. It seemed far off, unattainable, impossible even.

Yet here I am.

It’s been a crazy decade. Just a few months after turning 20, I moved away from everything I knew, everyone I loved, to go live in a city where I knew no one. I thought I might be crazy for doing it. I spent the entire summer before awash in self-doubt and second guessing my life-altering decision.

But in the end? It was the best decision I’ve ever made for myself and led me to learn so much about who I am, who I wanted to be and – perhaps most importantly – who I didn’t want to be.

I am: quiet, soft spoken, big-hearted (to a fault, sometimes), eager to please and observant. I let people make me feel bad for being a number of these things because it didn’t make me a strong person. But I realized not everyone needs to be loud, outgoing and the best at everything. The world needs people to sit back, observe and give us insight on how it works. I’d much rather be the quiet one in the corner than the loud one talking just to fill the silence.

I wanted to be: a published writer, a “good” groupie, an independent woman who could take care of herself and maybe someday a girlfriend/wife/mother. Some of these I’ve accomplished in pieces, but I’m still working on all of them. Now instead of just being a published writer, I want to redefine the rock novel. Instead of just being a good groupie, I want to be The Good Groupie. I think it’s pretty cool how these things evolve and your goals grow bigger as you realize you can do it.

I don’t want to be: overbearing, manipulative, uncompromising, inconsiderate, a bad listener or just flat out mean. No one is perfect. We all have our moments when we are these things, whether we like it or not. But I try my very best not to be these things because they are ugly characteristics I see in others and dislike.

So as my 30th year of life starts, I feel like I have a pretty good handle on me. I know who I am and what I want from life – and I’m working towards it. That’s what your 20s are all about, right?

If so, mission accomplished. Let’s celebrate and get on to the challenge of turning 30 in 365 days!

Veronica Mars is going to be a movie - YAY!

The days keep flying by and I find myself thinking "Oh, I should blog about that." And then I never do. Between work, after-hours meetings and keeping up with The Good Groupie on a regular basis, there's not much time left in my days lately for leisure blogging. (Is that what this is?) 

But I wanted to make time for this. Last week, Rob Thomas announced a Kickstarter campaign to make a Veronica Mars movie. I was beyond thrilled and quickly donated my $50 to the project, which will get me a copy of the shooting script, T-shirt, early download and a copy of the movie with exclusive extras. (I only wish I had $750 lying around to throw at the Austin premiere party level...) 

The project hit its $2 million mark in less than 24 hours - and is almost to $4 million just one week in. I love things like Kickstarter and Pledge Music, and I donate to projects whenever I can. It's really cool what just a few bucks from a lot of people can do when it comes to art.

If you're a fellow Marshmallow, I hope you'll check it out and donate too if you haven't already. The deadline is Friday, April 12 - yeah, they hit their goal and the movie has been given the green light...but every extra dollar helps. Check out the video about the project here:

Perspective

It hasn't been the easiest of weeks when it comes to thoughts racing through my head. I wish I could write everything down like I used to. Instead it all stays locked away...which is probably for the best. There are more grown-up aspects of writing your thoughts down for the Internet to read to consider these days.

But I will say this: it is amazing how much your life can change in just 10 years. (Or maybe not, depending on how you measure time...) In 2003, I was just barely in college, just barely discovering myself. It was one of my worst years when it came to anxiety and how I dealt with it. I let my happiness be determined by others. I could only hope that one day I could say I was a writer, much less have anything published for real instead of writing endless blog entries of fiction and life two people read.

Now? I've worked for publications and experienced television - something I never imagined I'd do. I fulfilled my dream of interviewing my favorite band. (Still one of my favorite pieces I've ever written.) After having it all, having nothing and having a little bit of something, I finally feel like I have it all when it comes to career. I'm back on track and excited to find where it all leads. I have a blog to call my own and a reason to chase after the one thing that's always made me happy: music.

I think back to those nights I felt so alone, back to the afternoons when panic attacks ruled my life. I think back to not letting friends in and feeling like I had no clue what I was trying to do with my life. It might some hyperbolic, but I'm just so glad I survived it all. Because life got so much better. SO much better.

And not everyone can see that.

After this week, I'm so grateful I did.

Happiness is a just a step away...

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The other day in the middle of Houston traffic hell, I realized something: I'm happy.

Not like running wild, screaming happy. Just that nice, quiet, content kind of happy. As of today, I've been back with the organization I work for, for one year. At the start of this year, I was made full-time there. (And in just one more week, I'll have health insurance again - amazing the things you get excited about as an adult.) Though sometimes (okay, most times) I feel very young compared to everyone in my department and worry I come off that way 99% of the time, I love where I am. I love what I do. I love why I do it. Work makes me happy. I haven't been able to say that since 2008.

At the end of last year, I quietly started my music blog again - testing the waters, seeing what types of posts I liked. It's been hard for me to break the idea that not everything has to be a long, drawn out entry. Sometimes a few sentences suffice - sometimes even just a photo. In just two months this year (and February isn't even over!) I've managed to rack up half the posts I wrote last year, total. I redesigned the entire thing and looking at that blog makes me excited. I feel like I finally found its look and, more importantly, its purpose.

Those two things occupy most of time, which is fine by me. Sometimes I wonder if I should worry more, at nearly 29, about the severe lack of men in my life. I worry it I keep thinking "I'm not there yet, I'm not ready to worry about that..." that I'll become a broken record and it will never happen. Then again, I don't want to meet some schmuck in a bar just for the sake of it. It's a catch 22. But only having me to answer to makes life pretty simple. I'm okay with that part.

So for now I'll continue to fill in the gaps with concerts and books and binge-viewing TV shows and planning road trips to see my favorite bands and figuring out how the hell I'm going to use up 17.5 vacation days I have left. I'll throw in some more adult things like buying a car for the first time (by my birthday? maybe?) and hopefully moving into an apartment before the end of the year just to keep things interesting.

But for now? It's nice to be happy.

My life lately...

Life lately according to my photos. Lots of good food, friends and football!

Life lately...

What life has looked like lately.

Life lesson learned: I need someone

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Being the wallflower, nose-in-a-book, loner writer girl has always been my identity. I'd rather keep to myself, live a quiet life and let everyone else run around and make a mess of things. I was painfully shy when I was younger and hated having to speak to people I didn't know - fear of rejection and whatnot. Kind of a conundrum for a girl who wanted to work for a daily newspaper...

I grew up and got better about talking to people - I even started to enjoy it because I love learning about other people's lives. I still might to be a conversation initiator 100% of the time, but I don't hide in the corner either.

But the problem is, I still like that wallflower lifestyle. I like keeping to myself and living a quiet life. Staying home on a Saturday night and reading a book is just as much fun as going to dinner with my friends or going to see a band I love. That tendency to be a homebody has made me like living alone a little too much - and sometimes to my detriment.

For the past three weeks, I've been by myself while my parents are off living much more exciting lives in the world. And it's been lovely - I can eat dinner at the kitchen table with my laptop to catch up on TV shows on Hulu. I don't have to close the door when I shower. (It makes the bathroom SO stuffy sometimes...) And if I don't do all my dinner dishes right away, it's okay - I'll get to them tomorrow. (I at least rinse everything off because leaving truly dirty dishes lying around is just gross...)

But I didn't realize until last night when I had a complete and total meltdown (my second of the week, actually) with my mother about everything that has been stressing me out over the last month that being by myself also meant all the little things I'd normally vent about or talk about while having dinner went unshared. With anyone.

And they all built up. In the middle of my non-stop babble about everything I need to accomplish before the end of October, I realize having someone else to live with is a good thing...because it gives you the opportunity to vent about the little things so they don't build up and come out in one big freak-out...and come out in a way that they other person doesn't deserve.

Today, in light of said meltdown, I've been doing my best to kick ass, take names and get things knocked off my to-do list. And I generally feel better about things.

I just need to remember to not let it all build up. But I'm so Alice when I say things like that: I often give myself very, very good advice but I very, very seldom follow it...

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Do you consider yourself a strong swimmer?

(Note: too much coffee and over-thinking went into this post.)

This post could very easily be one word: no.

In the metaphorical sense, no I don't think I'm a strong swimmer, and I never have been. I'm too indecisive. It takes me forever to make a decision and when I do, I worry it wasn't the best decision to make. I'm slowly learning to let go and just live. I'm way too hard on myself for decisions I made three years ago, still. This is the time in my life when it's okay to make mistakes, to make changes and figure it all out. As long as I reach some stability and eventually stay there, it's okay.

Swim.

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Oh, little blog. How I have neglected you. Partly out of lack of time. Mostly out of fear of repercussions should anyone come across this, decide my writing a blog is grounds to fire me and...fire me. Well, been there done that and I've decided if that's the worst that could happen, bring it.

Besides, what good is a writer who does write at least a little every day - even if it is only a lame blog post about nothing that two of her friends skim? I wrote two articles for my fall issue of the magazine - the medical one which I enjoyed much more than I should have - and I realized I need to make it a point to write more. So starting tomorrow, I'm going to seriously undertake the NaBloPoMo challenge and attempt to write in this blog every day.

Mostly because the July theme caught my attention: swim. Esp. after Jack's Mannequin's song by the same name hit me like a ton of bricks today...which is one of the many reasons I love music. Sometimes you need that one song to jolt you back awake and make you realize you're completely missing your life.