what is past is prologue…

No, really, I have lots of stories that I could probably tell, but I'm not ready to tell them quite yet. 

I will say this… My transition to Birmingham has been a completely different experience so far than I ever expected. I assumed I would be bored and just working and not hanging out with anyone. A month into my transition, and I can tell you this:

1. I've joined a trivia team.
2. I get to see my family all the time, especially my cutie of a niece who is way too active for my own good.
3. I learned how to waltz and swing dance. In a parking lot. Under Vulcan.
4. I attended the social event of my year so far when two of my friends got married last weekend.
5. I suck at trivia.
6. I also suck at the waltz.
7. I have laughed more in the past few weeks than I have in the past year.
8. I'm learning to brave the heat, because sometimes it's worth the 30 minutes each day for a walk in the park.
9. In a month, I've found absolutely nothing to do for work.
10. In a month, I've gotten to a place I thought I never could in life (and it's a good thing).

More details to come soon I hope… I do know this: I may not be working just yet (and things are not looking good actually), and while that is discouraging, there are things going on in the periphery that are great and are encouraging and keep me optimistic. 

For now, I'll be studying for the GRE to take in August/September, and preparing for Grad School to resume in the fall (and my last 2 semesters… holy cow). And who knows, maybe, just maybe, I'll share the fun stories very, very soon. 

• And as I crossed the AL state line, I cued Claire Holley's version of "Stars Fell on Alabama." My dad called with "My Home's in Alabama." > Read the rest of this entry »

Last night I had to say an unplanned goodbye to my second home. Yes, the move had been planned for a while, but the journey was set to depart today. Instead, my family thought it best to leave last night and drive a few hours out to get a head start. I find myself both relieved and angered at the same time.

I wanted to make a last good walk through my apartment and glimpse through my neighborhood, the neighborhood that I have cherished while I lived in D.C. It's a struggling and redeveloping neighborhood, but it has so much potential. The beauty lies in the people. Instead, I had to quickly grab my cat, Zoe, and put her in the car so we could get on the road. I had one quick walk through while people were waiting on me outside.  

I feel robbed of my chance to really get to say goodbye to Washington. I didn't get to see it out my rearview mirror as I had planned, as I had charted the route from Rock Creek Parkway down to the waterfront to catch I-66 out of town. At that time, I figured I'd be able to start mourning my losses… the history, the architecture, the anonymity of the city, but most of all, some of the most amazing people I've ever known. I was also so incredibly busy until the last minute that I didn't have time to spend with the people I cared about. Instead, I had to give quick hugs and goodbyes to the friends that helped me pack the truck as tears welled realizing that I had to hurry because we were standing in the street and time was passing and the clock was ticking.

On the other hand, there's a sigh of relief that comes with it. The last time I left Washington, I cried for 2 hours of the drive. Of course, I had just left SassyBlonde's house right before I left, which definitely didn't help matters. If you know me, you know that I don't like goodbyes… which really means that I don't like to let anyone see me cry. Having to actually admit that I may not see someone again is so painful. It's why I usually make clean breaks and just move without the hurrahs and go. Then, if you see them again, it's great. If not, you always have the memories. But, usually someone is mad at me because I left without saying goodbye. But then I just have to continually explain that I don't like goodbyes. So, there's relief in the fact that while I was robbed of the goodbye, I didn't have time to actually process it.

Of course, today as I drive, I'll probably think of everything that I'm leaving behind and bawl like a baby, as I'll finally have some rest and start processing it. But, so far, that opportunity has been taken from me, since my family, who had 2 of the 3 vehicles in the caravan got the majority of the votes. 

If I didn't get to see you before I left, please know that you are near and dear to me still. Washington and the people that I associate with the city, those friends that I accumulated there, will always be a part of my heart. I'm touched by your generosity and offers to help pack and load my truck, by hanging out, by simply showing up. I'm also thankful for the kind notes and thoughts for safe travels and even the sarcasm about Alabama not having the interwebs. 

No worries… I'll still be around. I'm sure you've got my contact info. If not, it's on the main site page, and you can find me somehow, whether on Facebook, Twitter, or email. Some of you even have my cell, so ring it on up! I will see your D.C. faces very soon, I hope! And when I come in, you should sound the horns.

P.S. Driving in a multi-car caravan SUCKS.

And so it is, just like you said it would be… life goes easy on me, most of the time. -Damien Rice

Except now. Now, I’m in the end of a chapter, one which some know, and one which some don’t, but one which is now going public for all to know.  

A few weeks ago, I made the decision to return to Alabama to work on my Master’s Degree, which is only 12 hours shy of completion. I had high hopes of finishing it in Washington, D.C., because it is a city that I love so much, but things never worked toward my favor. It was a difficult decision to make, but one that I feel is the best in my situation. I’m going to work with one of the best urban historians in the country, and with great hopes, I’ll be headed toward an amazing doctoral program in the fall of 2010. I move the Friday of Memorial Day weekend.  

The hardest part of all of this is leaving behind some of the people that are so near and dear to me. My neighborhood that I love: the CVS with the snazzy pharmacist, the bodega, the restaurants, the stoops where politics are discussed. The public transit that is so accessible, which continually ran me late for work because I had to transfer twice just to get to work, even though I live and work in D.C. My beloved Capitals… man, what do I say about a team that I have followed so passionately with all of my heart and soul, and now I have to leave behind to go to a city without hockey (blasphemous, I know!)? 

To my dear friends that I have always had here before and always: you are amazing, and I thank you for your continual friendship. You’ve held me steady in hard times and kept me strong when I couldn’t think to hold my head up. You have kept me here as long as I have been here… it’s been a rough ride this time through… and you know the story. 

To my hockey tweeps: It’s amazing that in just a month or more, I could create an incredible bond with such phenomenal people. Through wins and losses, you have shown me what it means to be loyal, truly loyal (and that’s saying something to a southern gal!). You have no idea how much I will miss you and our tweetups at Old Dominion. It seems my life will be somewhat incomplete without you, since you’ve been such a part of it for the last month during playoffs. 

To my Alabama friends, that’s right, you heard it, I’m coming home for a while… Cue “Sweet Home Alabama.” It will be good to see you. 

But, don’t worry… I will be up to D.C. to visit, you can rest assured of that! J And when hockey season rolls around, I’ll be up for some games. And to play tourist in general at other times. This city is my second home. I love it so much, and it was so difficult to make the decision to leave.  

So, be gentle with me for a while. I’ve been fragile for quite some time with the decision, and I will be for some time yet. I go with some mixed emotions, but I am excited about school, hopeful for the future, and also hopeful that our paths continue to cross.

As the NHL Portal commercial I keep hearing on the XM NHL Ice channel says:

You choose quadruple overtime over sleep. You live for the hot goalie. You need a 17-minute intermission just as much as the players.

It's true. And since April 15, I've been wrapped up in the NHL Playoffs almost every night, either watching other teams, or attending games or watching my own team, the Washington Capitals push their way through Round 1 against the New York Rangers (to a Game 7) and then through Round 2 against the Pittsburgh Penguins (to a Game 7 tonight).

So, pardon the delay. I really have nothing to talk about except hockey… as many people on Twitter can already attest.

So, LET'S GO CAPS! Do this thing!

Today is an extraordinary day in history. On April 4, 1968, social activist Martin Luther King, Jr. lost his life for the cause of civil rights and injustice. Just as he was leaving his room at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee, he stopped to speak from the second-floor balcony to the crowd gathered. Moments later, a bullet shot from the gun of James Earl Ray into King's neck sparked a new unexpected dimension to the 1960s.

The previous day, King had given one of the most captivating speeches of his life, known now as the "Mountaintop" speech (Part 1 & Part 2), which had peculiar timing according to his advisors at the time. King spoke as if this time in his life was his peak, and that he had seen all the he could do. The speech itself, incredible, has King giving both his humor and his seriousness. It's perplexing to listen to on the other side of history, as if he knew that his death was upon him. As the recounting of his travels and his time in the movement and the talk of threats that were coming toward King continued to rally those gathered to listen on April 3, the actions of James Earl Ray on April 4 brought forth reactions to a divided country that took decades to heal, and in some areas, they still have not mended. As news broke of King's death on radio and through news outlets and by word of mouth, mourning began throughout the country. But far worse, riots broke out, and people lashed out on their own communities in anger, torching businesses, and destroying their towns. The pain they felt could no longer be withheld inside. Massive riots erupted in cities like Trenton, New Jersey, Baltimore, Maryland, and Washington, D.C.

In Washington, D.C., the Shaw, Columbia Heights, Petworth, H Street NE Corridor, and U Street, were historically African-American neighborhoods, despite the end of segregation. As the news spread, riots exploded in Shaw, U Street, the H Street NE Corridor, and Columbia Heights, and protests built up Georgia Avenue. The city burned brightly, and Lyndon B. Johnson nationalized the guard to protect the city from complete destruction. D.C. radio icon Petey Greene launched onto the radio and pleaded that people stay in their homes and continue the non-violent mission of MLK, no matter how angry they may be. He encouraged they call in and express their anger over the phone. He left the lines open all night.

The damage done to Washington, D.C. took years to restore. In Shaw/U Street, the only business left standing after the riots was the Ben's Chili Bowl (and everyone who works there will tell you proudly about it if it ever slows down enough to do so). The destruction caused property values to sharply decline, and racial tensions continued to separate white and black by neighborhoods. In the past decade, many of these neighborhoods have just recently been able to redevelop. U Street, with Ben's Chili Bowl as an anchor, is now a hotspot for nightlife. Columbia Heights experienced redevelopment, and now holds the only mall-like structure within the district limits, providing district residents the opportunity to shop and spend dollars within their place of residence and not in Maryland or Virginia. Many neighborhoods are still struggling to survive and put themselves back on the map, but they are determined not to fail.

King said:

One of the great liabilities of history is that all too many people fail to remain awake through great periods of social change. But today our very survival depends on our ability to stay awake, to adjust to new ideas, to remain vigilant, and face the challenge of change.

The spirit of Martin Luther King, Jr. is continually alive and well in the city of Washington, D.C. As King pushed on in his darkest of days, so has D.C. The district has its limitations and its failures, but it has its successes and prospects to launch it into more than just the nation's capital. The district and its residents have continued for more than 40 years to rebuild and redevelop the city to its former and new glory. The city has more to offer than just the federal government, and the people here are committed to prove it.

I left Alabama in 1961 and never went back to live. Not because I don’t like it, but because living outside it, I can see it more objectively. –William Christenberry

I've told people before that I have a love/hate relationship with Alabama. Jokingly, I tell them that I love it when I'm away, and I hate it when I'm there. It's halfway right, but mostly wrong, too.

While I shouldn't joke about how my home state, there is a lot that I feel really proud that the state has accomplished. For one, I am in love with the governor right now. Gov. Bob Riley is the best governor the state has had since Big Jim Folsom. Of course, Big Jim was pretty crooked, so technically, Riley is the cleanest governor so far that the state might have had… pretty much ever. But, Riley has brought some amazing industry to the state, and most of all, he has put honesty, honor, and dignity back into the governor's mansion, something that has been missing for far too long in the state of Alabama (plus, he wears cowboy boots with his suits, and rides a motorcycle). I'm also excited to see about the prospects of 2010 for the Governor's Mansion. It will be interesting to see what kind of impact Artur Davis can make on the state and its voting habits.

I grow incredibly homesick at times… with all of my family there, it is harder and harder to be away and to see my niece growing up just by pictures seems so unfair. It's difficult to have lived there and know everything about daily lives to just talking a few times a week and the conversations are short-lived. There are also people there that I have dear friendships with that I have really grown to miss our connections. While I have been gone, one friend has birthed a beautiful son, a few have gotten married, and others, well, I'm not gonna lie, I miss their stories. I miss the lunch gatherings at regular spots. I miss getting to see friends do stand-up. I miss the BBQ. Oh, dear sweet Lord, do I miss the BBQ. I mean, not as much as my family, of course, but I can call and talk to friends… there's no connection with BBQ here. None. Nada.

At the same time, when I do go home, because of my seeming "black sheep" status in the family, or even in the state, I feel out of place because I've been in D.C. and lived a life completely separate from that of everyone in Alabama. There's a sort of disconnect that happens at gatherings and functions. Once again, it becomes small talk, which I can't stand. Much of it is my fault, because I become so busy that I don't stay in touch with friends, but it's only half my fault. Still, it's painful to have a disconnect in a place that I consider my home. I sincerely want to know what is going on with people and their lives. Sadly, instead of conversation, we've let technology in the form of Facebook and Twitter replace those meaningful exchanges. I love knowing what is going on, and it's helpful, but a simple message on the 'book or a tweet in 140 characters can't exactly divulge every emotion of the heart.

In retrospect, I am on and off the fence with Christenberry's view of Alabama. Being away from it, I don't know that I can always see it more objectively. There are times when I can, and times when I can't. It's like a power switch. Perhaps I didn't stay long enough before I departed to have a connection to be able to hold my objectivity. Maybe that it why I yearn to visit so much, and I long for home much more than many of those around me. Or, maybe Christenberry is off base, and has no idea… and we are all critics of our home, no matter where this life takes us. It's what we do with that criticism, positive or negative, that shapes our viewpoints.

Either way, I suppose that since I have been such a nomad in my life, I will be forced to live by the old adage, "home is where you are." And, I need to learn to get used to it. But, I secretly still count down the days when I get to visit my dear sweet home Alabama.

Today, my friend Wade sent over images of celebrities and cats, which I loved. One in particular stayed with me, though… mostly because of the quote that followed it.

Here is a link to Brigitte Bardon, coaxing a cat across the tightrope.

I love her quote on the page:

"I really am a cat transformed into a woman… I purr. I scratch. And sometimes I bite."

It's true… I feel like my life is like that. Sometimes I bite, but I don't mean anything by it most of the time, and I usually regret it later, and forget why I did it 10 minutes later.

In talking with my friend Wade a while back over coffee (well, my coffee and his Diet Coke), I faced a question that I am usually able to dodge: what do I see myself able to do within the next 6 months? And not necessarily work-wise, but personally… What do I want to do in 6 months? It took me some time to think, mainly because I never think long-term, and I usually don't like to think about things that I want to do. I tend to always want to do and plan for others. 

So, I was challenged to begin thinking about what I wanted to do, and one of the things that came up was travel. Because I'm completely geeked out on history, there are a few cities on my list that I have never visited, and I want to see for historical purposes: Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, Pittsburgh, and Detroit. I know, I know… some of those cities, I should've already visited as a history nerd, so sue me. But, I've had fiscal limitations. By the time you add up the transportation, hotel, food, etc., it gets costly! Fortunately, I have a friend in Chicago, so that makes it a little easier. And today, I found out that my cousin is moving to Philadelphia! So now, I have another resource for a visit!! 

I have no problem doing the travel alone, because I can see what I want when I want (ask SassyBlonde when I ran amok in the city during my visits before I moved the first time to D.C.). But, the sketchiness comes in when you have to look at inexpensive places to stay for hotels or hostels. And, while I pretty much live in an area that most people in D.C. won't visit past 5 p.m., I still don't want to push it while I'm visiting an area that I'm not familiar with. 

Now I need to befriend some Bostonians (God help me with the accents), and some folks in Pitt and Detroit. Of course, I've been through Detroit's airport, but that doesn't count. Off to befriend total strangers and make them my best friends so I can stay with them for visits… well, tomorrow and thereafter.

Today, I went down to Eastern Market with some friends, just for an opportunity to socialize. While I was the slowpoke who barely made it down to grace their presence, I did get to walk around with them for a few moments before they departed back for the 'burbs of Virginia. Then, as I made my way back toward my car, I decided to browse through some of the artisans' tents and make the best of my few hours out of the house, since I had been stuck inside it sick for almost two weeks now. As I browsed through jewelry, clothing, and art, I appreciated the work that went into each piece. 

Moe than the handiwork, though, some artisans took the time to connect with the people browsing in their space. Beginning questions of their work turned into deeper questions on life and passion. One painter, a man originally from northeastern Tennessee, painted vivid scenes of D.C. neighborhoods. We talked about the South, and about the small neighborhoods from which we came, and how they differed from the life and speed of the world of D.C. And people say there are no southerners here… 

Another vendor, a printmaker, who originally hailed from Russia, picked up on my accent and asked me about it. I told him that I was from Alabama, and he began asking me how the state felt about politics, democracy, and Obama. He moved from Russia straight to D.C. just a few years ago. He explained that he had such a difficult time understanding how some regions could have such a political stronghold and not be swayed. However, I told him that he couldn't simply single out the South in his judgments about political strongholds. He asked about racism, and I again told him that the South alone was not guilty in the stereotypes. I explained to him that the racism that exists continues because it is often passed down through families, and it is more than just black and white. I told him that it is a problem that is more than just a recent occurence. He asked very innocently about how the country can begin to move beyond racism and coexist peacefully. I told him that to me, love is the only way that I know how. He thanked me for my answers, and gave me a small traditional Russian Orthodox print in appreciation for spending time with him.

A few moments later, I went and stopped by another vendor of an artist who painted abstracts of D.C. The artist's girlfriend was in the booth. I saw a painting that I loved, and decided that I wanted it for myself, because I couldn't turn it down. Also, because while I was in the booth and talking with her for a few moments, I noticed her book about linguistics and asked her if she was in school. She is currently working on her Ph.D. We began discussing grad school, and I told her of my hopes to study history and write a specific local history of D.C. When I told her that, she slashed the price of the piece I told her I was buying. But, her conversation about her experiences in grad school and how she has enjoyed studying and research will stick with me. And, I'll enjoy the great print that I didn't have to haggle, and it already has a perfect place on my wall.

All of these conversations help me to realize that it's such an amazingly strange and beautiful world, full of wonder, and full of confusion. I like the thought that each day, we are all a piece of each person's puzzle. And each person today fit perfectly into my puzzle. Every conversation helped me to reaffirm who I am, who I want to be, and who I have always been. Everyone has a story… and everyone's stories are intertwined. It's one of the essential tools I carry as a southerner: storytelling (and storygathering). I wish I was better at storytelling most of the time. But, I love listening to the stories of people and where they have been and what people have done. And without people to make conversation, with whom can we share our stories?

There's a song from Brandi Carlile, called "The Story," that has the most incredible lyrics that fit right into my day:

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to.

There is so much more that I don't know out in the world, and I need some of these resonant conversations in order to gain insight into my own soul, and to motivate me toward my own personal greatness (which, isn't to say that it's all that great, but it's a personal best). I definitely cherish many conversations that I have, and log them away into the depths of my soul. They help me become more alive than I could ever imagined.