Instead, today, I just signed and mailed a letter declining $40,000/year to go to school to get my PhD. When I got ready to drop it in the mailbox, I had to call one of my friends who always gives witty perspectives so that I could laugh as I put it in the mail. Her response: "You don't want that money; it's New Jersey, it's mafia money, anyway." I chuckled, and dropped it and went on my way.

About two months ago, I struggled with the decision of what I would do, whether go to school in NJ and get my PhD in Urban Systems or possibly get a second Masters in Urban Planning somewhere else. This is all because of one event during the spring semester that put me behind. One class shattered the pathway to my PhD, and made it virtually impossible to make up over the summer. And by virtually impossible, I mean that it was possible, but I'd be so braindead that I'd not even want to begin studying in the fall for another program. I needed the summer to breathe, not study. And, it wasn't possible. So, I was left with a decision to make: PhD or less.

I told myself that I would wait until after my family vacation to decide. We went to Walt Disney World. In all truth, it only took one day with my family to decide what I wanted to do. As the week progressed, my decision was confirmed. As we returned home and tragedy struck our family, my decision again was confirmed. As I've continued to try to dig roots where I am now that I've decided to stay, there are so many ways that my decision has been confirmed, and I've not turned back. 

I may have been a tad nervous to drop that letter in the mail, but I never hesitated to sign my name and mark "I decline" on my response form. I'm completely confident in what will come forth in the upcoming days, months, and years, even though this decision is completely different from what I expected just a year ago. Yes, life is taking me a different route than what I planned, but isn't that sometimes the most fun part of the journey?

For now, I'm enjoying the scenery while not trying to break the bank, but also trying to see what options are available (which are often slim to none with my degree background, but plentiful with my skill set) for work. I'm thankful that I will be close to my family for a while, and I will continue to enjoy the travel, as I've got a list of places to see that is still growing. Mostly, I'm continually watching in expectation to see just how one decision can change my life.

Well, actually history is too. But, it's the NHL playoffs. So, I'm rolling with this theme for now…

I don't actually remember my first hockey game, but I know I was a kid. We had a team in Birmingham that was part of the ECHL. The Birmingham Bulls. They were "re-introduced" to the city, since we previously had a team with the WHA also named the Bulls. The ECHL Bulls came in 1992. As high schoolers, games became a group outing with our friends. And then I left high school and went off to college, where there was a bigger sport that demanded attention in the state of Alabama: football.

My years at the University of Alabama weren't my best academically, but I made some of the greatest friends, one of whom was a hockey fan and grew up in St. Louis (of course, Blues fan by trade). Whenever we went to our friends' apartment, hockey games were usually on, so I began to really learn the game. Our group of friends would go back to Birmingham Bulls games for fun (and I'd watch the game this time). When it was time for me to look for cities for an internship in 2001, I discovered two of my greatest opportunities were in Atlanta and St. Louis. Obviously as a proud Alabamian, I chose St. Louis. I drove up during spring break and visited and fell in love with the city. But, the best thing about my trip was the visit to the (then) Savvis Center, where I got to see the Blues take on the Chicago Blackhawks in an impressive victory, as well as the meanest slapshot in the league: Mr. Al MacInnis. It was then and there that I fell in love with hockey.

I continued to watch the Blues whenever I could. Sadly, 2001 was the last season for the Birmingham Bulls, who packed up and headed off to Atlantic City (then to Stockton, Calif. in 2005). The summer in St. Louis was glorious, but the fall back in Alabama meant more football. However, Nashville was close by, and so were the Blues whenever they were in town. I soon found out that Blues fans amassed into Nashville for those games and found myself at home… but also learned not to sit near section 303 (Cellblock 303) anytime that I was up there for a Blues game. I always felt like somehow someone in NHL scheduling loved me because the Blues and the Preds played around my birthday IN Nashville for several years. Destiny? Perhaps.

In the middle of all of this, I left UA. I worked for three years. The lockout happened during that time. I went back to school while I was working. I graduated from UAB and decided to visit Washington, D.C., and I fell in love. And actually, because I loved the city so much, I postponed going to graduate school, as I had already been accepted at UAB's history program. So in May 2006, I moved to Washington. I looked forward to the fall with the return of both football and hockey. For hockey, things weren't so great, even though the likes of Alex Ovechkin were in play, other components that the current team has were still yet to be determined. However, I did get to see the last year of the heinous black, blue and gold jerseys laid to rest. Attendance at the Verizon Center was sparse, but I remember the opening 2nd period video like it was yesterday: the song "Hysteria" by Muse. No matter how many losses though (and there were almost twice as many as wins), I stuck through the season, and claimed the team as my own, since Washington was my new home city.

…Except I moved back to finish my Master's degree in 2007. But I never left hockey. I kept my two teams: St. Louis Blues and Washington Capitals. However, while the Blues are my first love, and I'll never forget them, it's like the Capitals are the love that will never go away. I can't describe it. [One of my favorite players to ever wear the uniform was Matt Pettinger and now he's a call-up for the Canucks… go figure.] Back in my Master's program, I often got caught looking up scores and watching games during class (yep, totally guilty). Sadly in 2007, the Caps really shook up the team. And they had some great success, which continued into the 2008-09 season.

When I started my 2nd year of my Master's, my school had a major screwup, and I had to find a full-time job to pay for school. I literally looked for 3 months and applied for every job available, only to hear that I was overqualified over and over again. So, I did what every person who's ever worked in D.C. does: move back. So, I found a job in D.C. and moved back by the summer of 2008. It was perfect timing. I picked up tickets for the Caps and it was a great season. In fact, it was also a great season for Alabama football, who made it to the Sugar Bowl. Although when Alabama lost (embarrassingly) to Utah in the Sugar Bowl, the Caps gave me the bongo fight to remember instead. During the playoffs, when I never thought I needed more hockey in my life, a network of tweeps opened up into #caps108 and NHLTweetups in the D.C. area, where I met some of the greatest fellow Caps fans I've ever known. In the end of the season, the Caps lost out in the conference semifinals to the Penguins. And I was there to witness it. And I cried… a ton. But I also witnessed a forever long standing ovation for the team and their season during the last two minutes of the game and for minutes after as the Caps wrapped up game 7.

Yep, you guessed what happened, UAB did fix the screwup, actually just after I initially moved. So I waited until my lease was up and headed back to Birmingham in May 2009 (sadly, it looks like I move with hockey seasons, but it's purely coincidental). And I started the 2009-2010 season with Center Ice. This year, I traveled to several hockey games and visited new arenas and got to see the Caps twice, both were wins… the season road opener in Boston, and the other, which I cherish (OH SO MUCH) was the season series opener with the Penguins in Pittsburgh.

There's a point to all of this. While my life has sometimes been turned upside down (and believe me, this is the short version), hockey is a constant. No matter what, I can turn on a game (or go to a game), and I know that no matter what, it will be a competition, whether it's two high-ranked teams or two teams that are on opposite ends of the spectrum. It's a mental game, a physical game, a game of strategy, and a game of big hits, sweet goals, and amazing saves. I can watch any game and I know that I'll be able to see that. No matter what is going on in life, I know that hockey is constant.

And that team… clad in red, following a captain who people either consider to be either one of the most talented players to play the game or one of the dirtiest players in the league (depends, who are you asking?), that team is my extended family. When they score goals, I cheer. When they win a game, I dance. When they lose, yes, it is just a game, but I still mope. When they lose a series in the playoffs, I cry. A lot. And when a team member loses a loved one, I mourn. These guys on the ice, while they'll never know it, allow me the chance to escape from my abrupt life, and see something that I know will not change.

Watching this team has helped me through a really rough year. I expect that my team will be hated by others. But, I love this team, and I will love them no matter what decisions I think should be made or shouldn't. And I'll love them and stick with them if they have a terrible year. I am very proud of those fellas, and I will continue to be a proud Caps fan.

I've been going at the fastest pace that I can go, and there is no way that I can keep up, and last week, I waved the surrender flag for one of my graduate classes. I'll have to withdraw, which means that I'll either have to take an overload next semester if I teach, teach and take only 2 classes and take the final class in the summer (meaning no graduation ceremony; at my school, on May & December), or take my last three classes in the spring and don't teach. I feel like I'm stuck with a massive decision that I don't want to make. Either way, it's a pretty major consequence that doesn't give me much breathing room for error. 

Hah. Breathing room… and that's where it all started… stupid pneumonia.

So, I know he's a Ranger and all, but if anyone has Lundqvist's number, feel free to hook me up, since I've got some free time now… Hands down, I'm a Caps fan, but I'm not ashamed to say that he's my favorite NHL goaltender.

This isn't the first time I've had to do this. I had to apply for a new one in October of last year, in order to take care of my DC registration. It was my first replacement ever from the one I had from birth. However, during the move from DC to Birmingham, it's been put away in a box, and I'm not really sure which one. And, Alabama is a little crazed with the new hire forms and verifying social security numbers with cards (which I've not had to do, this is a new thing… but maybe it's because this is a state job). So, instead of tearing apart every box in storage that I have to find it and making an utter mess in the possibility that I might have lost it, I figured it would be just as easy to reapply for a replacement card.

Now, the downtown office was a madhouse yesterday. So, I opted for the Birmingham "East" office. It was quite a change from the office in DC. In DC, I was the ONLY "white (not hispanic)" person in the place. And everyone was there to do what they needed to, no one talked, and everyone looked hacked off while we were there. But, in the Birmingham-East SSA office, I'm pretty sure every area in state of Alabama made sure to send representation. And what did I do? I sat back and watched… and took in some life lessons.

As the scary looking man that looked like he could kill me, whose fingernails were longer than mine, kept staring at me, this cute, little African-American boy was singing songs into the bottom of his grandmother's cane. The scary man's woman had her kid's names tattooed on her left arm, in about 36 pt font, horizontally, perfectly readable and in flowy cursive. Names like Perthashia and Jameem. I was just amazed at how large the tattoos. Down the row from those folks were an Asian couple that had just gotten married that couldn't keep their hands off each other. And she had some bling on that left hand. A few rows back was an Army man in his fatigues, sitting with his Army son, in jeans and a tight tee, discussing something that had been stolen the night before, apparently while the son had been partying. How do I know the son was Army? When you live in DC and you have family that is Army, you learn to know who's young and within their first few years. A few seats down from them, high-school aged teens, brother and sister, fighting and punching each other. Behind them was a family from the sticks… the wife looked like she was probably on meth, the dad looked high, and the dirty, barefoot kids were running around without any supervision… and as their, albeit cute, little, chubby boy (about 3 years old AND with a pacifier) was about to run out the door, the dad (too lazy to get up) simply yells, "GAGE!" I'm wondering if he's named the kid after a truck or a shotgun. Friends have mentioned that he's possibly named after the kid from the movie "Pet Sematary."

Luckily, my name was called about 2 minutes after the "GAGE!" moment. All this in about 30 minutes. The only part that was comforting was the American-Idol-to-Be singing into the bottom of the cane.

Things running through my head during my experience today at the SSA:B-E…

1. If you name your child after a gun, a truck, or a horror film, I will judge you.
2. If you want to tattoo your child's name in a font bigger than 10 pt, put it somewhere that I can't (and won't) see it.
3. If you look like you're from the movie "Deliverance," I really want to yell "I Hear Banjos!"
4. Men, you're not meant to have long fingernails. Leave it to the women.
5. Hey, new couple, mazel! But, c'mon… we were about to puke.
6. Excuse me, Officer and Son, I don't know what was stolen, but everyone knows about it now, and God forbid that you ever have to talk about a classified mission, because you sir, will fail miserably.
7. Also, if you name your child after a gun, a truck, or a horror film, I will judge you. Yes, I felt the need to repeat.

Color me Judgy McJudgerson all you want. But, this is exactly why you should give people that feel like Yankees in the South an option for bureaucracy online instead of having to sit around in an office. This is the result.

I love the South, but after that experience… seriously, paddle faster. I heard banjos.

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. 

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.

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.

I get sick of the bad days… I'm an optimist by nature. Even when things are crazy busy and everyone around has a bad attitude, I continually try to find something to smile or laugh about, just because I don't want to be dragged down. So, being stuck in the house all week with a virus and basically exhausted and flat on my back has kept me from being able to see the glass in its proverbial hall full state.

Today, I schlepped out for an early morning meeting (to me, anything before 10 a.m. is early, yeah, yeah, say what you will, I'm NOT a morning person) at 8 a.m. out in past the beltway in NoVA. From where I live, that's basically about a 35 minute drive on any given day without traffic. Thankfully, I saw last night that the National Marathon was going on this morning and found an alternate route, or my commute would've been even longer. THAT would've made me even unhappier. The meeting was 4 hours. FOUR HOURS. ON A SATURDAY. Now, given the fact that it is for an alumni association, I am more than happy to give of my time for them and help out, especially now that I'm required because I'm an officer. But, seeing as how I had a few bad days already, an 8 a.m. meeting out in Timbuktu from D.C. did not add any glimmer of hope to balancing my scales toward the happy side.

After the meeting, I once again dodged the Marathoners, secretly hoping to possibly hit one, two, maybe a spectator, or even better a tourist for some points. OK, I kid. As I'm rerouting my way home, I run into another detour… there's a protest march going on down Rock Creek Parkway toward the Pentagon (thanks WUSA for letting us know that this morning AFTER it started… you guys are 2 for 2 on this now in 12 hours). I finally get around the detour and head home, and my stomach is growling ferociously.

I decided to stop into the neighborhood deli… It's a quaint Jamaican bakery that made me the most amazing King Cake for Mardi Gras! And, they have wonderful sandwiches. So, I ordered myself a sandwich and was waiting when the two most adorable girls came in, chattering in what is most likely an Ethiopian language (one of 84… how am I supposed to know which one?). And then, they see the cakes they want in the cooler window, and start singing and dancing! I couldn't keep a frown on my face and just started giggling along with them like a little school girl. 

I realized then how I've been missing my own dancing in life lately. The old adage goes:

Dance like no one is watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like no one is listening,
Live like it's heaven on earth.

I need to remind myself more often that life's moments are only here for that long, and I need to enjoy them while I can. So, I'll be cranking up my iPhone/iPod a little louder, and probably looking a little more like a fool when I walk down the street, because the sounds of my playlists will be putting a bit more rhythm into my step, and making that water glass a lot fuller. Heck, it may start overflowing.

Everything about what I would now not be doing really hit on Sunday night after I had a bit of rest… it was kind of like a gut punch to the stomach. Combined with the exhaustion, it's probably why the virus that I'm suffering from right now was able to complete knock me out. And, yeah, the news, it sucks. However, I refuse to let it keep me down and make me a pessimist. 

I met with a good friend for dinner right before I went to Board Meeting, and he shared with me his planning tool: a 10-10-10 (10 weeks, 10 months, 10 years). So, in my downtime, I'm working on my own 10-10-10, which is odd for me, because I've never been the kind of person to make timed long-term personal goals for myself. I like to plan for the week, and things that are coming up for work and social events, but not personal goals. So, this is really a first for me. And, I won't lie, it's a little challenging. I feel a little vain and conceited thinking that I should be so awesome as to complete X & Y by year A or B. But, I'm determined to start thinking that way. And while I do have a Bucket List/wishlist of things that I want to do before I die, I think of those in a totally different way. Now my feet are to the fire with these goals. 

I am also having to work on another life plan in a sort of way. It brings me back around to the question that I asked myself in high school and in college of what I really want to do in life, and if I will really be happy doing that, or will I be happy just getting a paycheck as long as I like where I am and enjoy the atmosphere. Should I be happy to have a job and stick to it (and most Americans right now I'm sure would say yes to this)? Or should I take that leap of faith and really go after what I want to do? It's a complete reversal on what I expected that I would be doing as I am approaching my 30th birthday (even more rapidly than I expected).

I guess viruses can be sheep in wolves clothing sometime (you read that right). While they are horrible and leave you on your back, they leave you with time for reflection and introspection, or even a retro-introspection. It has been good to have the time to think and to wonder about what can, might, or will happen, but I can also overthink and overanalyze, or even just boggle my own mind. It's good to have a few good friends that jump in and ask the right questions to help you work your way out of your own maze of the mind and get you back on track. It's also strange to me that I have to reflect and think back as far back as I have just to get to the point that I can start on my plans again. Who knew I had gotten so far along without thinking about what I wanted for so long? Not my parents, friends, or professors. Crazy, isn't it?

At this point, there are still so many questions that still don't have answers. But, I do know that I have a greater sense of peace because of the time that I have had to consider life plans and options instead of feeling rushed to make decisions. And, at this point, no matter what, I will consult my plans and my 10-10-10 to see how to map out what I'm doing and if it makes sense toward a final goal. If it doesn't, I will hope money starts growing on trees, or that I've bagged Nelly or George Clooney as a boyfriend!