My 2011

The last five hours of 2011 have begun, leaving us all reflecting on the past year and wondering what the new year will bring. Most of us have probably exclaimed, "I can't believe it's already been a year!" in the past 24 hours as we remember exactly what we were doing last New Years Eve. I, for one, had just met a new guy while singing karaoke with friends on Christmas night, and distinctly remember him telling me not to kiss anyone else when the clock struck midnight. Considering I spent the evening with a bunch of my girlfriends from Cheeseburger in Paradise, his wish came true. He didn't even have that honor til almost a month later.

Outward Bound (Ricky's in red; I'm next to him)

Christmas karaoke man and I dated for a few months, even though I got in a Facebook relationship with someone else during the first few weeks of the year. Ricky and I have publicly been in an "open relationship" on Facebook for almost a year now, our "anniversary" being January 12th- the day we returned from our crazy Outward Bound dog sledding trip in Ely, Minnesota. I still smile every time I see his name next to the heart on my Facebook page, knowing we don't even have each other's phone numbers (but I love him!). By St. Patricks Day, the thrill of my rendition of Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas is You" had worn off, so my real-life Christmas karaoke sweetheart and I parted ways.

One month later, I was sitting in front of a new date at Mahi Mahs Restaurant, overlooking the boardwalk and Atlantic Ocean. He was not happy in Virginia Beach, dreaming of the day he would move to San Diego. I said to him something along these lines: "Think about where you were a year ago. You probably only remember a couple specific days...the rest is a blur. In one year from now, you'll be in San Diego and hardly remember these bad days at work or the cold weather you hate so much. And in a year from now, I'll be sitting in front of someone new, remembering you as that guy I went out with a few times in the spring of 2011." I was so right (even though I said that in jest). We went out more than a few times, but only stayed together until the 4th of July. Holidays in 2011 were not good to me, starting with St. Patrick's Day. Keep reading for confirmation.

One month after the July 4th break up, I moved to New York City- land of dreams, no exes, and delicious cuisine. As you could probably tell by posts in November, I started seeing an Irish guy here in The City. Thanksgiving was the last time I saw him. Should've seen that one coming... 

Though I can create a ridiculous 2011 timeline based on holiday break ups, I can also map it out by extraordinary experiences. Like I mentioned above, my year started with a seven day winter camping/dog sledding excursion. I was in below zero conditions for 144 hours straight with twelve strangers, wrestling with my intentions for the rest of the year. Should I stay in Virginia or move to NYC? While shivering "inside" a little tarp-tent-thing that I had tied to two trees, using the trunk of a tree I sawed down by hand as a weight to hold the tarp to the ground (no, seriously), I decided to give Miss Virginia one final go.

Two weeks later, I won Miss Greater Hampton Roads, and returned to Miss Virginia in June. I've talked about that incredible week in Roanoke plenty on this blog, so I won't beat a dead horse, but that was obviously a huge highlight of 2011. I gained 29 new friends, was honored with the Quality of Life award, placed 3rd runner up, and cheered on a close friend of mine as she had the Miss Virginia sash placed across her shoulder.

The rest of the summer was a blur of unbelievably fun trips, including auditioning for American Idol in Pittsburgh, flying to New York City for a Broadway audition, and attending the funnest wedding I've ever been to with my college a cappella sisters in Fredericksburg. Wedged in there was Jim and Lindsay's engagement, Oliver Beach Week, and a Phi Mu/Miss Virginia reunion weekend in D.C.

As we know, I moved to New York in August, finally deciding to chase my dream to sing for a living. These past 4 1/2 months have been quite the ride. I've made amazing new friends, rekindled relationships with old friends, had four different jobs, and moved into three different apartments. I've laughed, cried, almost given up, and pushed through. I've learned about a strength within me that I didn't know existed. Pretty much nothing has gone right since I moved here, but I will not stop trying until I know I've given 100%.

My 2011 has not been easy, but it's been eye-opening and rewarding. It has challenged me at every turn- physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I had some really beautiful moments laughing with friends, dating great guys, spending time with family, performing in shows with outstanding and supportive casts/crews, and getting to know myself better. I've been shown unconditional love by unexpected people, taught lessons by unknowing teachers, and had homes and hearts opened to me by near strangers. I've been at my best, been at my worst, and can sit here happy to be me. Maybe a part of me wants 2012 to bring more successes than 2011 offered, but then again, maybe I couldn't ask for more success than sitting on a couch that doesn't belong to me, my suitcase across the room next to the futon I'll be sleeping on to bring in the new year, typing that I'm happy to be me. Cheers to 2012 <3

Post-Christmas Exhaustion

So much for my new apartment. The roommates are nice and the location could be worse, but the neighbors' loud music combined with the lack of ventilation in my room just isn't cutting it. Tomorrow, I'll be re-packing all of my bags and moving into my stepmom's friend's apartment in Manhattan. Although a temporary set up, sleeping on her futon will at least prevent me from ripping my hair out in the middle of the night from loud techno bass. On top of it, I doubt I"ll feel as stuffy in a room that gets a little healthy sunlight. New York...so glamorous.

Thank goodness for Rayna and Kelly. They're letting me sleep at their apartment tonight before I make the move tomorrow. I'm absolutely exhausted from the long ride home today, so I think I'd truly lose it if I were kept awake by neighbors tonight. Because I had to get up early this morning, my last night in Virginia Beach was not nearly as exciting as Monday and Tuesday nights, but I don't think I could have stayed up later than 11p.m. anyways. I didn't sleep much earlier in the week due to social hours that were essentially unorganized high school reunions. The few days following Christmas were a blur as I somehow found time to see New Year's Eve with Stephanie, have brunch with Lauren (same Lauren whose room I originally subleased in NYC), get a haircut, visit Polly (my old pageant director), grab sushi with Wes (Polly's grandson/close friend of mine), reunite with one of my best friends, Jessica, attend an engagement party, make an appearance at a going away party, and hang out at C.P. Shuckers, Chicks, and Lynnhaven Pub (three of my favorite local spots). Whew.

Wes and I entertained ourselves at lunch by sending creepy pictures to one of his friends...this is my go-to creepy face. Pretty, right?

Unfortunately, the madness won't slow down until after New Years, but might as well have as much fun as possible while I'm alive and well! This is officially the shortest blog post in the world, but I'm unable to sit up any longer...

War Movies

I don't like when people die. Of course, unless you're a homicidal psychopath, you probably agree with me. But I'm not just stating the obvious in terms of death in real life. I don't like when people die in movies, particularly in violent fashions. If a dinosaur eats someone or aliens blow up the planet, I'm not too concerned. But war movies or anything that depicts a true historical event are not my cup of tea.

My mom, Sherwin, Sherwin's son Scott, and I decided to go see a heart-warming Christmas Day movie yesterday: War Horse. The first sign that this movie wouldn't be a feel-gooder was the word "war" in the title. But it's a horse movie...it can't be that depressing! Sign number two was the movie poster (note the melancholy colors). At least the horse's ears are happily perked! Sign number 3: one of the previews was for the re-release of Titantic in 3D. I cried just from the brief clip of the old couple laying in bed, waiting to die as the ship sank. There was no hope for my poor little emotions by the time War Horse began.

As the credits rolled, my mom and I simultaneously looked at each other with the expression reading, "That was so not worth the stress." Yes, the ending was technically "happy," but the emotional roller coaster leading to that final scene was too much to handle. Watching all of the soldiers die in no man's land, all of the people getting torn away from this horse that has come to be their only hope in life, and even the horse himself watching his best horse friend die, nuzzling him in the street...just give me a Xanax already.

I don't think that people who like gory war movies are terrible, sick individuals. I'm personally just going to request omission from now on. Men may argue, "But you make me see chick flicks." My argument? Chick flicks don't emotionally scar you, raise your heart rate (except maybe during a hot and heavy kissing scene, but I'm not going to apologize for that), or make you cry. Sure, some of you boys may have secretly shed a tear during The Notebook, but I'm pretty sure you can accept the difference between war movie crying and chick flick crying. One= hope, happiness, love. One= dispair, pain, and loss. I full support your enjoyment of the manly action, but if you want to watch a non-girly movie with me, please make it one that is unrealistic for the sake of my fragile feelings.

On Dasher, On Dancer...

Santa should be landing on the roof any minute. I hope he eats all of the leftover cookies my mom made for Christmas Eve dinner tonight...Lord knows I don't need that temptation lying around.

Remember how I ended my last post by saying that my pillow was a little too inviting? I wasn't lying. I slept until noon today! That can't be healthy. Perhaps it's the fact that I haven't slept soundly since moving into my new New York apartment, then my first night in Virginia Beach was spent cuddling with Stephanie (not complaining- I love sleepovers). Whatever the reason, I rolled out of bed long after a responsible adult ever should and immediately headed into the Christmas Eve madness, scrambling to finish my gift list. Between my late arousal and procrastination-induced shopping excursion, I guess being a responsible adult was just not the theme of today.

My family went to Lindsay's family's house for dinner, where I got to see an old acquaintance from high school. Her family happens to be really close to Lindsay's, so they celebrate Christmas Eve together every year. I really enjoyed catching up and relating to the general struggles of most 23-year-olds. I'm glad I'm not the only one who still has no idea what she's doing with her life.

I guess Rudolph had the night off in this picture...

Lindsay's family also has the tradition of playing a game after holiday dinners, usually orchestrated by her grandfather. This year's was a team crossword puzzle challenge. In the end, our two teams of seven both got all of the answers correct, although the other team will argue that they technically won. You see, there was no clue for "20 down"; it was somehow forgotten. Thus, we both guessed the answer. All we knew was that it was a three letter word ending with "Y," so my team wrote "joy." That was a solid guess for an easy Christmas crossword, if you ask me. Our opponents came up with "ivy." Really? Ivy? Guess who was right...ivy. As impressive as that "brilliant" guess was, Lindsay's grandfather still resorted to the tiebreaker: Name all of Santa's reindeer in order that he calls them. I thought this was the easiest tiebreaker in the world, but apparently my knowledge of Santa's reindeer is not shared by the general population. I quickly spouted out Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, and Rudolph. Everyone looked at me like I'd just named every historic mayor of Rome. I don't know about you people, but I find it terribly inconsiderate that most people can't name the nine reindeer that we expect to fly through blizzards to bring us presents every year.

Speaking of presents, I still have to wrap mine in the morning. Nothing like waiting til the last minute. I'm also doing a "Santa Shuffle" in the morning, my mom's made-up holiday run. "It's better than a Turkey Trot because there's no fee, no crowds, and you get to pick your own course!" she said. There better be a medal.

Christmas Eve Eve

Cuddled up in my own bed watching Modern Family after a bath in our jacuzzi tub, I don't want to be anywhere else. The drive to Virginia took way too long yesterday-10 hours-since we drove through D.C. to drop people off, but the company was excellent. Rayna, a Miss Virginia girl who goes to law school at Columbia (take that, pageant critics), offered to give me a lift home for Christmas. Naturally, I jumped on the chance to not pay for a bus or split the cost of a rental car with my brother. She, her two friends from law school, and I chatted and played road trip games the whole way down. Of course I ended up with the driving shift that took us straight through a storm, leaving me with white knuckles and a headache from trying to see the road, but we survived. Let me just say that I hate, HATE, giant 18-wheelers that spray water from their tires and trap me in the middle of their blurry orange and yellow lights while going 75mph. I swear I went five full minutes without breathing at one point.

Stephanie and me at her apartment

Despite my exhaustion from a long day of travel (how does sitting still in a car for 10 hours always make you so tired?), I immediately changed clothes upon arrival at my dad's house and rushed over to Stephanie's Christmas party. She and her roommates invited a bunch of Longwood (her college) grads who live in Virginia Beach over for some holiday fun, and fun it was. We migrated to Crocs, a local bar, where I did a lot of dancing and people watching...kind of at the same time. Being around beach people is drastically different than the social scene in New York. First off, I forgot how tan and thin every girl in Virginia Beach is. I guess when you live near the water, you have to be swimsuit ready at all times...woops. Count me out of that category. Then there are the Virginia Beach guys, all wearing some sort of surf brand shirt and rocking the same shaggy haircuts they've had since middle school. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, rather pointing out the stark difference in style from New York businessmen, young professionals, and hipsters. The crowd was really fun, as most crowds in Virginia Beach are since everyone interacts and knows at least a quarter of the people in any given bar. At the end of the night, Steph and I walked back to her apartment and chowed down on all of the leftover dip before going to bed. So much for my calorie count yesterday.

Today was not very exciting, but I liked it that way. I hung out with my mom around the house in the morning, went to Barnes & Noble to finish the third book in The Hunger Games trilogy (BEST BOOKS EVER...go read them right now), and ate chili for dinner with Jim, Lindsay, Mom, and Sherwin. No complaints. Except when crazy drivers kept ruining my life in the Barnes & Noble parking lot. The amount of times I sat with my blinker on, ready to take the space of someone leaving, only to have an obnoxious person sweep in and steal it, was infuriating. Eventually I found a spot in a little side lot, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise as it saved me from minor humiliation due to trying to park my dad's giant school bus of a vehicle. I decided that getting in the lines was not entirely necessary.

My pillow is becoming a little too inviting, so it's time to say au revoir to yet another Christmas Eve eve. Sending all my good wishes to the elves as they scramble to finish last minute presents!

Rayna (not the same Rayna I drove home with) and I in front of the famous Rockefeller Christmas tree. I had to take advantage of the traditional New York Christmas scene before heading to Virginia!

Expectations

People surprise you a lot less when you don't have expectations. Expectations of what strangers will be like in accordance with their clothing. Expectations of how your sibling will react to a question. Expectations of what your friends are willing to do for you. We're conditioned to expect certain behavior, responses, and opinions based on prior experience. But what if we didn't predict anything about another person? I like to think we'd all just get along.

My press on tat, circa 2010

I'm not simply talking about stereotyping, though that may be interwoven in some circumstances. For example, I recently met someone with 28 tattoos, including a full sleeve down his right arm. Most people I interact with don't have many or any tattoos, and the general consensus (not blanketing everyone) from my upper-middle class, preppy social community is that excessive tattoos suggest recklessness and an unprofessional attitude (at least in the 9-5 world). I don't think I've ever thought one way or another about tattoos, but I will admit that I was a bit surprised to find that my heavily tatted friend is a very successful project manager at a software company who graduated in the top 10 of his high school class before heading to one of the most well-known universities in the country. If he were tat-free and wearing khakis, something tells me I would not have been surprised at all. Even for someone like me, who prides herself on avoiding stereotyping, culture and upbringing influence our expectations. Like I said, I never gave much thought to how I feel about tattoos, but my twinge of surprise reveals my conditioned beliefs about someone who has 28 of them. [See that tiny butterfly on my right hip in the picture above? Yeah...that's the only tattoo I've ever had.]

Jim, 14 & me, 12

As previously noted, however, not all of our expectations arise from stereotypes. This may be the case for encounters with strangers, but what about expectations of people we already know? My brother and I had a very long conversation two nights ago that addressed this very subject. He and I are closer than many siblings and spend a lot of time together, but have momentary relapses of arguing in a way that should no longer be an issue now that we're young adults, free of teenage hormones and angst. Don't get me wrong, we don't yell and fight; we just get under each other's skin without even trying. Deciding to sit down and get to the bottom of our differences was a bit nerve-wracking...maybe there's no solution? Maybe we just don't naturally get along? I'm so glad we decided to figure it out, though, because the solution ended up being really simple (once we finally got there..): We need to stop expecting negative behavior and malintentions (<--that's not actually a word) from each other. We are not the same, selfish kids who wanted to kill each other in high school.

I came to the conclusion that I grew up feeling like he was "perfect" in everyone else's eyes, so when I'd try and tell someone that he was mean to me (which he most definitely was at times), they'd brush it off like I must have been hallucinating. Thus, I've spent the past 10 years not trusting that anything he said or did was sincere...he's just the smooth-talking golden child. He came to the conclusion that he began avoiding me while growing up since I'd get super defensive and angry if he tried to confront me about something...anything (I'm not denying it. I was a typical female teenager). Thus, he's spent the past 10 years walking on eggshells. Monday night, we came to the realization that we were still projecting the teenage versions of each other onto the now mature twenty-something versions of each other. People change...even your siblings. In order to develop a healthy adult relationship, we have to stop placing value on outdated expectations.

Maybe we need to reconsider the saying "I love when people surprise me." If people don't surprise us, it means that we're finally getting a grasp on two crucial concepts: 1.) You can't make assumptions about people based on appearance, second hand stories, or anything else, for that matter. You just have to talk to them. 2.) People are constantly developing, so you can never know someone too well. Your expectations of them are not reliable. (I almost put an "always" before reliable, but if something is not always reliable, then it's simply not reliable at all.)

Day Dates

Living in a room with no windows makes you really tired. All. The. Time. The room looks no different if it's noon or three in the morning. I'm honestly not sure how long I'll last here. As much as I appreciate the price and size of the room, the bass player below me and constant lack of sunlight put me in a less than joyous mood. I spend more time reading in Barnes & Noble these days than in my own room...thank goodness for a month to month lease.

In an attempt to avoid insanity brought upon by the thumping bass, I said "yes" to anyone who asked to hang out with me this weekend. The two who won the first come, first serve weekend fillers (not that people were lining up) happened to be a guy named Jude, who I met way back in September, and one of Lauren's friends, Dave. Jude was the victim of my desperate search around a ridiculously fratty bar for flip cup teammates during my first month in the City. I haven't talked to him since then, but when he texted me a few days ago, I figured what could be the harm in getting together? So what if it's been three months and I had no memory of what he looked like/if he had chainsaw murderer-type qualities. Lucky for me, he doesn't seem to be out of his mind.

We started off the afternoon with coffee from a cool little cafe in the East Village and continued on to a hole-in-the-wall chocolate store that has, quite possibly, the most delicious bite-size chocolates in the world. We drank our coffee (well, chai tea for me, of course) and shared the chocolates on a bench next to some basketball courts in an artsy part of the neighborhood...such a New York moment. From there, he took me to The New Museum in Soho..or maybe the Lower East Side. I can never keep track of where I am. The museum is really modern and switches exhibits every few months, so you never know what will be on display. Currently, the place has a super trippy theme of sense-alteration. With a room full of 10 foot tall mushrooms, something called The Giant Psycho Tank, and a glass tube slide that runs through three or four stories, we were more than sufficiently entertained. As evening approached, we walked to a neat cocktail bar and had a couple of original concoctions, my personal favorite being some pumpkin-cranberry flavored rum drink, and cheese (yes!). Having discussed our mutual love for tiny dive bars, he then led me to a great one in his neighborhood. They even served Busch heavy in a can...such a classy establishment. We were eventually a bit cramped when an ugly Christmas attire bar crawl crowd poured in, so we retreated to the rooftop of his building that overlooks all of midtown. Breathtaking. The night rounded out with me convincing him to play guitar for me- acoustic guitar music has to be one of my favorite things in the world.

Listen up, boys: that is how to do a first date. None of this "let's go grab dinner and a drink" business. Day dates are the best. Major points for Jude's planning skills.

Castle of Homelessness

Today, Lauren's friend Dave, who helped me move to my new apartment last week, and I explored our new neighborhoods. He just got back from an around the world trip for his company, so he's only been in his apartment since last Sunday. My neighborhood didn't have much to offer in terms of excitement other than a castle that we discovered is now a homeless shelter. Homeless people living in a castle...oh, the irony. His neighborhood in Williamsburg, Brooklyn held much more promise, but I was exhausted after my big day yesterday and called it an early evening.

That leaves me sitting here going absolutely mad from the terribly obnoxious bass music blasting downstairs. I actually almost feel nauseous from the pounding. I can't very well go down and tell him to SHUT UP, so I'm stuck just thinking about all of the things I want to do to his stupid instrument. It's 9:45 at night, for goodness sake! I just pray he quiets down by 11 so that I can go to bed. It seems that I can't just catch a break in New York. Is a decent place to live and a job that pays enough to survive too much to ask? Every other day I feel like throwing in the towel, but my pride and determination keep me from doing so. This neighbor is making it really tempting, though.

'Bound for Broadway' Showcase

I was waiting to write about my showcase this past Sunday until the videos were ready...and now they are! I'm not going to say too much because the videos pretty much sum it up, but I will say that my dad's surprise visit from Virginia and the big group of my friends in the City who showed up made me the happiest girl in the world. My friends and family are the best!

My first song was "Much More" from the longest running Off-Broadway musical, The Fantasticks. I had the pleasure of playing the lead role in my high school's production of this show back in 2004, and it remains on my "must play again" list (preferably in the actual Off-Broadway production). Louisa is an out-of-her-mind 16-year-old who has to take off her rose-colored glasses as she grows a little older. "Much More" is from the beginning of the show, when she has big dreams and aspirations with no fear of consequence. Enjoy!

I wanted my second song to contrast the first both vocally and character-wise, so Meg suggested "Fine, Fine Line" from the popular contemporary musical Avenue Q. I fell in love with the lyrics and decided to learn it for the showcase. In case you don't know me or have not read much of this blog, you need to know that this song completely sums up my love life. If a nice guy is interested in me, I'm chemically incapable of returning the feelings. If an unattainable guy who a) has lots of ex-girlfriend or miscellaneous commitment baggage, b) lives/is moving far away, c) is off-limits (i.e. family friend...okay, fine, older brother friend), or d) all of the above, I'm swept away in a matter of seconds. These impractical rendezvous last anywhere from over a year to a single month...once even just in my head, each time leaving me utterly hurt and "bewildered" as to why they ended, despite knowing full-well that they'd never legitimately work. Needless to say, I didn't have to dig too deep for this one:

After the show, most of my friends and I went out for a quick celebratory drink. Having so many of my favorite NYC people in the same place was a rare treat- one more reason to keep performing!

After the show with a few of the people who came!

Moving

The process of moving is a pain in the derriere. I'm so excited to have found a new place to live as of Sunday, but getting out of the old apartment is just as stressful as finding and moving into the new apartment. In order to receive back my security deposit, our building requires cleaning beyond spic and span. Thank goodness Elle's parents came in town, because they're fighting some of the move out charges on our behalf. Management can't seriously charge us for repainting the entire apartment when we did not leave any dents or marks on the wall. Natural discoloration over time is not our responsibility, particularly in luxury apartment that we've only lived in for a few months. I don't have the energy or experience to argue these things, however, which is the nice thing about living with a college student whose parents still come around for a move. These are the kind of things I just don't want to deal with on top of the normal to-do that comes with changing addresses.

Packing, washing, discarding, and re-packing monopolized most of today. Tomorrow brings the joy of scrubbing, mopping, and sweeping. Wednesday rounds out the excitement with lugging furniture into Lauren's (my good friend from Busch Gardens whose room I've been subleasing) U-HAUL. Once all of those things are complete, I will then attempt to find a taxi big enough to carry my 6 bags and a friend (any takers?) who will help me haul everything up the stairs into my next apartment. I'm tired just thinking about it.

As much as I'm dreading/currently hating the move, I'm beginning to feel a swell of excitement for this next chapter in my New York life. Once I have my own room that I can occupy indefinitely, the settled feeling I've been waiting for can finally flourish. When you are in a temporary living situation, it's nearly impossible to feel completely at home. A door to close and a room that doesn't have an end date brings relief and the ability to focus on other areas of survival...like a more consistent job. The promotions have been great, and I plan on continuing to work for the attorney, but promo season will slow down after the holidays and leave me with no choice but to find another way to pay rent. Since the housing ordeal will be established by then, I'll have no reason not to make the job search my priority. One thing at a time!

GO NAVY!

Our doormat...Army sweatshirt

BEAT ARMY! We did, for the 10^th year in a row. Ah, I love being part of a Navy family. A) We always win, B) Navy blue and gold are great colors, C) Our midshipmen uniforms are the sharpest, and D) Our fighter jet flyover is WAY cooler than the Army helicopter moseyover. I may be a proud Navy brat, but let me be clear that I’m grateful to all military branches for what they do for this country.  When it comes to competition, however, you can’t turn a blind eye to the blatant superiority of Navy… :)

We arrived in Annapolis around midnight on Thursday and went straight to a bar downtown to meet my cousin. Jim, Linds, and I walked into “Pussers” (great name) expecting a pub or something low key that would match our jeans and Ugg boot attire, but instead found ourselves in a college club-type atmosphere with biddies wearing mini dresses and heels in the middle of a 30 degree night, crying and fighting with their boyfriends (probably for simply looking in the vague direction where another girl might, may have, just possibly been standing). Oh, college. After our long drive from New York, Lindsay, Jim, and I turned in after one drink, preparing for the big day to follow.

Party bus with Jean!

With a “you fly, we buy” offer from Dad and Jean, the kids started our day with an 8a.m. Starbucks run before settling on the party bus that would transport us to the tailgate. My dad and his Naval Academy buddies know how to do it right…a party bus? Yes, please. A few Bloody Marys later, we arrived at FedEx stadium, receiving a couple of gawks for the monstrosity of a vehicle we were in. Security was not thrilled, but we (and by “we,” I mean Dad and his fleet of won’t-take-no-for-an-answer-Navy Captains) found a little parking spot between all the RVs and set up shop. 

The tailgate was perfect: piles of food, plenty of drinks, and lots of fun family and friends. At one point, I was on the phone with Claire, trying to direct her to our location while my cousin Charlotte was also on the phone doing the exact same thing with her friend. Charlotte and I were both standing near the back of the RV (we had a party bus and an RV to use) when Claire spotted and subsequently tackled me. The girl Claire had walked over with then tackled Charlotte. Unbelievable. Charlotte’s friend was Claire’s family friend who had walked over with Claire to our end of the tailgate lot. They had planned to “find their friends and meet back up”…turned out their friends were Charlotte and me! Such a small world.

Once we were in the game, Obama’s smile blinded us in our club seats. That man has a serious Crest Whitestrips addiction. Whatever his addiction or political views, seeing the President of the United States was pretty exciting. The whole experience was patriotism at its finest. Army and Navy underclassmen, servicemen and women, and vets at every turn, the Pres waving in his top coat, jets flying over, and good ole American football. And beer. Unfortunately, I couldn’t cheer as much as I wanted to in order to save my voice for the showcase tonight, but I still waved my Navy scarf around proudly- even more so when I was in the Army section visiting Claire. 

Too exhausted to rally for a night out on the town, our family ate dinner in the Heyworth (cousins) RV while the rest of the lot cleared out. The drive home was really quiet as people fell asleep..until the croc pot full of hot beans fell on me. Now, my dad taught my brother and me that no story is worth telling unless it’s worth exaggerating, so I’m not swearing by how full the pot or hot the beans were...but that’s beside the point. The point is that I like to be dramatic about being the left out single girl in the family who always has to sleep by herself in the living room, get her own drinks from the bar, and sit on the end of the row next to strangers. Pathetically drenched in the stench of “cowboy beans,” I listened to the couples surrounding me say in jest, “You’ll definitely attract the boys now.” The only man in my life, my dad, handed me a napkin. I can’t be single anymore. This is getting out of control. I just need a man who will keep me from sitting all alone in a pile of beans.

Lindsay, me, Charlotte's friend Margaret, Charlotte, and Jim

Now I’m sure you feel incredibly sad for me, but please, save your tears. I’m happy as a clam as I type, riding home with Jim and Lindsay and listening to “The Book of Mormon” soundtrack. Jim and Linds are hilarious road trip companions, getting overly excited about the prospect of Christmas shopping and solving any disagreements with beef jerky. I’m also really looking forward to my showcase tonight! A bunch of my friends are coming out to support me, so the night will undoubtedly be wonderful.  Having familiar faces in the audience always makes performances way more fun. I can’t wait!

I Snore

I snore. This is terrible news. Why has no one told me this before?? I mean, Brittany mentioned that she heard me do it a few times, but Tess has confirmed that this a regular habit for sleeping-Shannon. MORTIFYING. Obviously, I don't care if two of my best friends have heard me reenact a dying pig in the middle of the night, but who knows who else has listened to my embarrassing snorting? Could I be any less attractive? Tess assured me that it's not constant, but she also said it was not a gentle, feminine noise. Awesome. Now I bet anyone reading this really wants to date me. And if you're among people who have slept next to me before without telling me about this dreadful issue, SHAME ON YOU.

Ryan and I in the private karaoke room...highly decorated.

Before climbing into bed and serenading Tess with my lovely snores last night, I met Ryan and some of his co-workers out for an evening of karaoke and sake. We had a great time in our private party room watching a white guy sing in Chinese (so impressive), an English bloke belt out Adele's "Someone Like You," and joining in on Spice Girls/Backstreet Boy tunes. Unfortunately, I had to call it an early night because I had rehearsal for my showcase (coming up on Sunday!) this morning. Everyone in the cabaret is so similar to me...young, broke, and living in NYC to pursue their dreams! I loved chatting with them and listening to their incredible talents. I've said it before and I'll say it again...there are a LOT of amazing vocalists and actresses up here. Duh.

This weekend is going to be an absolute blast! I'm currently at Jim and Lindsay's apartment, waiting for Lindsay to get home from work so that we can all drive to Annapolis for the Army/Navy game! My dad's whole side of the family- him included- are Navy vets, so this football game is an annual holiday for the Oliver/Heyworths. I haven't made it to one in a long time, but I'm glad I'm going this year because we are riding to the tailgate in a party bus. You can't really beat that. I also just found out that Claire, my close friend from Phi Mu who visited me in NYC a few months ago (see "Friend-Filled Weekend" in Sept.), will be at the game with her family! Can I even handle all of the excitement??

Commercialized Christmas

Me, the elf, and my fellow promoter at the last location

Just another day in paradise. I woke up early this morning to run a few miles (always so motivated on mornings after The Biggest Loser airs) before heading to my "Find the Elf" promotion. Yes, folks, today was the day I donned a T-Mobile Santa hat and decorated T-Mobile stores around the City while people followed a holiday elf's whereabouts on Twitter. The elf randomly appeared at stores after giving clues regarding his location, and the first person to find him at each location won $1000 and a new smart phone. Not a shabby prize. People went all out for this thing- frantically running through the rain (thank you, New York weather) to find our candy cane legging- clad elf. It takes a real man to prance around in those things. I was proud to call him a fellow promoter.

Getting in the holiday spirit is not hard when you live in New York, and you don't have to be a T-mobile elf-handler to do so. The courtyard I walk through almost every day in downtown Brooklyn is highly decorated with garland and twinkling ornaments. We even have our own giant Christmas tree, free from the crowds in Rockefeller Plaza. Most of the buildings in the City have Christmas lights and wreaths on their entrances (not that this town needs any more lights) and holiday tunes float from every Starbucks door that opens...which pretty much creates a constant stream of music since there is a Starbucks on every block. In NYC, you couldn't escape Christmas if you tried.

Many people disapprove of the commercialized version of Christmas, but I don't. I understand that this is supposed to be a holiday surrounding Jesus' birth and the beginning of New Testament Christianity, and for people like myself who believe in the Bible, remembering the "true meaning" of Christmas is important. But is it really so wrong to suck on candy canes and meet Santa at the mall? I mean, we have enough negativity in this world. Why get uppity about a holiday that is defined by cheer? Celebrating with stocking stuffers and N*SYNC's Christmas album (still my favorite Christmas C.D. ever...don't judge) does not have to take away from appreciating that Jesus came to this earth. This isn't meant to sound insensitive..but can't we celebrate Jesus and Santa? When it comes down to it, Christians should be celebrating Jesus every day of the year- not just on Christmas. Santa only gets remembered once a year. Let's throw the old, fat guy a bone and leave him some cookies, okay?

Hope you had a jolly day!

Passing on the Crown

Tess is sitting here on the couch to my left, making fun of me because I've been staring at this stupid screen for a solid 45 minutes and have only written three words (which I just chose to erase in order to write this...). There are a few distractions: 1. The giant bag of assorted M&M's that won't stop staring at me (courtesy of a house guest), 2....

Please excuse the interruption. As I was typing, our building CAUGHT ON FIRE. Elle ushered us over to the window in time to see firefighters from five different fire engines rush into the building. The subtle smell of smoke didn't alarm us until Kevin left to go grab dinner and turned around to inform us that everyone was running down the stairs. We grabbed our jackets, boots, and the M&Ms (priorities, people) and sped down all 21 floors. I'm sure I looked really attractive in my oversized sweatpants, glasses, and hair in a messy bun, but that didn't stop Tess, Elle, her mother, and me from ranking the firemen on a hot or not system (no pun intended). Turns out an oven on the 6th floor caught on fire while running the "self-clean" tool. More like self-combust. The smoke was quite heavy in our hallway, but apparently things didn't get too out of hand considering we were only downstairs for about 15 minutes.

My bro all dressed up for the pageant!

Anyyyways, as I was saying, I've been quite distracted while writing this blog. I'm buckled down in my room now, though, so we should be good to go. My schedule this weekend was jam-packed, making the days fly by. Stephanie picked me up from the bus station in Virginia Beach Thursday night and the busyness started Friday morning. I ran errands all day in my dad's giant 8-seater SUV (felt so powerful), ending up at my pageant director's house for dinner. The next morning, I had to get up early for a day of pageant festivities. Since I was the "outgoing queen," I was responsible for introducing the girls competing this year to the judges at the beginning of their interviews. Interviews were from 9-11a.m. and rehearsal followed from 11-3p.m., leaving me three hours to go home, get ready, and somehow put presents together for my directors/teen/pre-teen "sisters" before booking it back to the venue by 6:15p.m. The show started at 7 o'clock. I sang the national anthem, asked the girls their onstage questions, sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" as a duet with my pre-teen while our teen danced, performed "Nessun Dorma," gave my farewell speech, and crowned Courtney Meade- one of the amazing girls I competed with at Miss VA in June- Miss Greater Hampton Roads 2012. I was exhausted by the end of the night, but glad to have spent one last busy day in the Miss Virginia world. The organization was such a big part of my life for three years, so saying goodbye was a little hard. Below is my farewell speech!

Crowning Courtney

Sunday, yesterday, was really relaxing. I spent the afternoon with my mom and had dinner with my dad, Jean, and Drew. The overnight bus dropped me off in New York at 6a.m. this morning. Life in New York feels a bit like a dream after spending time in my home environment. This week is special, though, because Tess is staying with me until I leave for Maryland on Friday (Army vs. Navy football game!). I've missed having a close friend next to me every night since Brittany's departure! It's comforting to be around someone who knows me incredibly well while I'm dealing with the stress of New York. At least I have a lot of work (moolah!) this week. Speaking of, I have to get up at 7:30a.m. tomorrow for an event, so I need to hit the sack. Goodnight!

A Career Centered City

Home again, home again. Almost.  I’m currently sitting on the $25 bus home to Virginia Beach, just having watched a gangster/cop movie that made my heart rate go a lot faster than I’d anticipated for this relaxing six hour ride. I really had no choice but to watch it, though, since it was too loud to ignore. Being me, I was mostly intrigued by the gangster/cop relationship and hoped that they would become friends in the end. They didn’t. But at least they didn’t kill each other! I guess it was one of those unspoken gestures of mutual respect…

I’m heading home this weekend to “pass on the crown” of Miss Greater Hampton Roads. Officially concluding my involvement as a participant in the Miss Virginia Organization is an odd feeling. I’ve dreamt about being Miss Virginia since middle school, so putting a cap on that dream without it ever coming to fruition is a little sad. On a positive note, however, I learned a ton in the past few years about what the Miss America Organization can offer other than a full time job and a crown. I’ll never be Miss Virginia, but my time competing was invaluable. I look forward to expressing in my farewell speech what Miss Virginia has come to mean to me other than a title and an amazing opportunity. Hopefully I’ll encourage younger girls and current contestants to see the benefits of competing that far outweigh wearing a crown.

As much as I’m looking forward to spending time in Virginia Beach, part of me is dreading it because I know I won’t want to leave. New York has become easier, of course, but with nowhere to live in two weeks and the general sense of “what am I doing with my life,” moving somewhere more affordable and practical sounds very appealing. I told myself- and others- that I would stick New York out for a year unless a performance opportunity opens elsewhere (i.e. cruise ship, tour, etc.), and I plan on sticking to that. Still, I can’t help but wonder where I’ll end up. New York is a city full of very selfish and driven people. Professionally, it’s great. Personally, eh, not as much.  I can see why certain people thrive there- people who are very career-oriented and know what they want. Problem is, I’ve never been that type. I have no qualms with putting my friendships and relationships before my career (whatever that career may be). A lot of people look down on that mindset as if I have no ambition and depend on others for my happiness, but those opinions have stopped bothering me. I know who I am and will not apologize for being unwilling to claim that “I have to be a singer to be fulfilled” or “I want to focus on myself before I settle down.”  I will never be a mindless slob and not make a living for myself, but work will never be the means to my self-fulfillment. I love people. I love to love people. I love when people love me (that's a given). 

Something I found at the Christmas market...

Obviously, I picked myself up and moved to New York…I’m not just sitting around waiting to fall in love and live happily ever after. I’m definitely striving for my goals and doing so with gusto. I still can’t believe I put my life in two suitcases and hauled myself up to the Big Apple in a Chinatown bus. None-the-less, I’ve yet to be impressed by the personal lives of most of the “successful” people I meet in New York- at least the younger ones. The people I relate with seem to be the ones living paycheck to paycheck in modest apartments in Brooklyn…probably because that’s what I’m doing, too. Those who are making six figures in their mid-twenties are not bad people, but they seem to be plagued by a lack of internal awareness. None of them (generalization) want to talk about anything other than work or light jibber jabber. A friend of mine who is a well-to-do New Yorker even admitted that he feels refreshed when hanging out with those of us who don’t make as much money because there’s no need for a facade. The hoit-toity young professional world pulls people in, exhausting them with socializing for the sake of networking. 

Now, I don’t mean to devalue the importance of working hard, nor the accomplishments of those who are successful at an early age. That kind of work ethic is crucial in this generation. I’m just not one of those people who is willing to put my work life before anything else. I’d rather join the Peace Corps (which I’m applying for, by the way). So, where am I going with all this? Great question. I guess what I’m trying to say is that we all pick and choose our priorities in life. Mine just happen to be different than many New Yorkers’. This world needs different kinds of people. We need entrepreneurs, driven ivy-league grads, and eager youngsters climbing the corporate ladder. But it’s okay if we’re not all like that. No one should take advantage of government funding or sit on his/her butt all day, but if you’re like me, relationships will always be more important. There’s no shame in that.

I plan on working hard to survive for a year in New York, perhaps longer if I find my niche. Not taking the easy route is important to me. Yes, Virginia Beach will be hard to leave, but it’d be harder to live with knowing I never pushed myself to carve out a more exciting path. And I know that there are plenty of people just like me in the City. I think this post just reveals that I need to come to terms with two opponents inside of me: the practical one that wishes I was a more “successful” young professional and the realistic one that knows I’ll never be 100% focused on my career.

Respect

Aretha knows what I'm talking about...

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Find out what it means to me...

"Respect" is thrown around a lot. Respect your elders. Respect yourself. Everybody deserves respect. Demand respect. Okay, that's great and all, but what is respect? Well, according to dictionary.com, "respect," used as a verb, means four very different things. 1. "To hold in esteem or honor," 2. "To show regard or consideration for," 3. "To refrain from intruding upon or interfering with," and 4. "To relate or have reference to." Notice how the definitions become more and more vague? How interesting. Part of me wants to tackle the meanings behind all four of these interpretations, but instead I'm going to focus on the one that probably affects us the most: To show regard or consideration for.

All of us want to be treated well. We want to be shown consideration when we're trying to get off a crowded subway or voicing our opinion in a meeting. We want to hold some sort of value to people around us so that we're regarded with kind, or at least polite, behavior. Solidifying these desires, the media constantly bombards us with the importance of respecting ourselves and demanding others do the same. Take away the word "respect" and this means "showing regard or consideration for ourselves and demanding others do the same." All and all, this idea is not a bad thing. The danger is when expecting respect outweighs our tendency to give respect.

I'm not one of those people who thinks that this generation is composed of terrible, selfish human beings. I do think that as a whole, however, we've become less and less concerned with respecting one another. Just look at Black Friday shoppers. They literally trample people to get to a flat screen T.V.! Absolutely no consideration is given to others in a world where blinders are up and everyone is solely focused on what they want. You want a flat screen T.V.? Don't worry about the person you're stepping on. You want to text your friend? Don't worry about the teacher who stayed up all night planning a lecture. You want to be wild and single? Don't worry about the girl you said you'd call. We live in a do-what-YOU-want world. I think the concept started out as a positive idea to make the most of the one life we have to live, but has spiraled into an exaggerated, egocentric way of thinking that is accepted under the cloak of "making ourselves happy." Although personal happiness is important, we still have to remember that respecting others is just as imperative as respecting ourselves.

The moments that are hardest to give respect are the times that count the most. I recently started dating someone who seemed really great and very respectful. He gave me his jacket, texted me if he was running late, was a great listener, and walked me to the train. All of those gestures were nice, but the ending is what I'll remember. I could tell something was off the last time we got together since he referred a lot to his ex-girlfriend and seemed more distant. When we parted ways, he said "I'll give you a shout tomorrow about grabbing drinks." The next night, while I was out with friends, I texted "Is everything okay?" because I had not heard from him. And I still haven't. I have not said a word since that text, but knowing that he has no intentions of ever speaking to me again makes me feel seriously disrespected. Doing all of the simple, courteous things is admirable, but respecting someone when it's difficult is the true test of decency. As hard as it was to hear "I don't want a relationship" from past men I've casually dated, I am grateful for their honesty in a situation that I'm sure was not easy for them either. I've discovered that respect is more than "showing regard or consideration," it's showing regard or consideration when you don't feel like it.

My little tag on the end of dictionary.com's definition can be applied to many situations outside of the romantic arena. Respect isn't doing the dishes when you have the whole day off, it's doing the dishes when you don't feel like it so that your roommate is not inconvenienced. Respect isn't offering your seat when you have plenty of energy, it's offering your seat when you don't feel like it after a long day at the office. Respect isn't talking to your mother nicely, it's talking to your mother nicely when you don't feel like it because you don't like her opinion.

Respecting ourselves is crucial, but that's the easy part. Respecting others is much harder because it doesn't always benefit us. Sometimes, we have to shut out popular culture's "live only for yourself" slogans and remember that showing consideration for our fellow humans is a much greater demonstration of noble character.

I'm Grateful For...

I figured I should make a post about giving thanks, even if I'm a few days late. Better late than never.

When you have more than you deserve, it's easy to fall into the trap of never having enough. The more in life that is fantastic, the easier it is to zone in on the things that aren't so perfect. Being the minority, they stick out. I, for one, have an abnormal amount to be grateful for, so the few areas of my life that aren't ideal threaten to poison my contentment. Although I constantly remind myself of my blessings, wishful thinking still creeps in. I want the perfect job, the most convenient living arrangement, a relationship, a natural tan, and a magical gnome that cleans my room while I sleep. Who doesn't?

Thanksgiving is a wonderful reminder to every American to take a moment once a year to remember what we do have, instead of harping on what we don't...which, let's face it, fuels our culture the other 364 days of the year. My list will be undoubtedly incomplete, as I can't possibly name all of the things for which I'm grateful. Still, I want to write down a few things on paper- erm, screen- that can provide encouragement when I need a reminder of how lucky I am. I also hope that some of the things I talk about can spark within anyone reading this a memory of similar people/experiences to be grateful for in their own lives.

-My support system of family and friends
           Cliche, I know. But how could I not mention the people who love me unconditionally, cheer me on when I succeed, and hold me up when I falter? Not everyone is as close to their family as I am. Not everyone has as many loyal friends as I do. Not everyone can know they are loved no matter how much they mess up. I have done absolutely nothing to deserve the people in my life, yet somehow, I have ended up with not one, but two sets of unbelievably giving, dedicated, and upstanding parents. With an older brother who is my biggest fan and is marrying a woman who treats me like a real sister. With a little brother who loves me whole-heartedly. With a weird amount of friends that I can call at any time of day or night. With so many people to love and be loved by that I can't ever be caught up on my "phone date" list. Why have I been given so much in this department? Certainly, I can't take the credit. All I can do is be profoundly thankful for the abundance of deep and lasting relationships in my life.
Mom, Dad, Jean, Sherwin, Jim, Lindsay, Brittany, Emily, Tess, Jess, Sarah, Meg, Kaitlin, Claire B., Maggie, Claire M., Lindsey, Katie U., Stephanie, Amanda Miller, Elizabeth, Smithers, Jacob, Wes, Elle, Jen L., Krystal, Kira, Anita, Lena, Nicole, Danielle, Katie A., Renee, Natty, Christina D., Leslie, Joanna, Geraldine, Tyler, Cami, Lauren, Ashley, Amanda McLaughlin, Kristina, Laura P., Andrea, Rayna, Kelly, all of my Phi Mu sisters, Miss VA sisters, Busch Gardens friends, high school friends, friends of friends, and countless other people I can always count on.
-My education
        I graduated debt-free from a great university. Never did I question if I could get into or afford college.
-My talent
        I'm most certainly not the most talented girl in the world, but I'm so grateful that I've been given an artistic outlet through my voice that brings me so much joy to use. It's also brought me to many of my closest friends.
-My location
        I was born in the U.S. That's awesome. I live in the most inspirational city in the world. That's awesome.
-My past
        I've wrestled with my past a lot, but have come to be extremely grateful for the environment in which I grew up. Until the age of 18, I was in a very strict church with a lot of rules and restrictions, but without that, I may not have the morals and core beliefs that I do today.
-My health
        I'm physically and mentally stable, which allows me the freedom to live every day free of pain.
-My cellphone, computer, and technology as a whole
-Mexican food
-Concealer
-Chapstick
-Contacts

I'll go ahead and stop before the list gets too out of control, but there you have it. Happy Thanksgiving! And may we all remember that we don't have to wait for the last Thursday of every November to ponder the wonderful things in our lives.

Thanksgiving Weekend

I'm absolutely exhausted from the physical, mental, and emotional expenditure over the past four days. My mom and Sherwin (stepdad) arrived Wednesday night for Thanksgiving festivities. We arose early Thursday morning in anticipation of the 5 miler Turkey Trot through Prospect Park, for which I found motivation through my addiction to The Biggest Loser. If they can work out that hard, I can run a measly five miles. And I did! Nothing beats endorphins, crisp autumn weather, and family time. My mom and I even crossed the finish line together!

I rushed home after the race, showered, made spinach dip (which was voted the new Shannon staple h'orderve for family dinners), and headed back to Jim and Lindsay's for Thanksgiving dinner. Our Thanksgiving table was a smorgasbord of New York friends and family: Mom, Sherwin, Linds, Jim, and myself; my roommate, Elle; Jim and Lindsay's friend from club volleyball, Keith; Justin (Jim's close friend) and his dad from San Diego; and later in the evening, Kelly and Rayna stopped by. With the help of eight bottles of wine and one bottle of scotch, the evening was a riot. In true fashion, I managed to drop a block of cheese in my Chardonnay (still ate it...kind of delicious), the boys talked about politics (highly encouraged dinnertime conversation, right?), and we finished up with Oliver children karaoke (to be expected). I'm not sure I can remember a more flawless night with close friends and family.

The view from the Ellis Island ferry

Black Friday gives me anxiety, so shopping was definitely not on the agenda the following morning. Instead, the family rode the ferry to Ellis Island, where we not only saw the famous immigration center, but the most stunning sunset right over the Statue of Liberty. For dinner, we stumbled across an adorable strip of restaurants and bars on Stone Street in the financial district- definitely worthy of exploration in my near future. Afterwards, we went to the Union Square Christmas market and grabbed a glass of wine nearby before calling it a night. I managed to stay out a little later to watch Immortals with Conor, but regretted that decision the next morning when I couldn't pry my eyes open.

Dinner at Bourbon Street

Lindsay, my mom, and I made a quick stop at David's Bridal on Saturday to try on Bridesmaid dresses for Lindsay and Jim's wedding. Well, I was the only one trying on, but they were hemming and hawing at the possibilities. One meander through Rockefeller Center and a martini later, we found ourselves at Bourbon Street on Restaurant Row. The jambalaya was fabulous, but not as fabulous as our waiter. He was a singer/dancer at Busch Gardens a few years before I worked at the park, so we had tons of mutual friends and countless immediate inside jokes. The Busch Gardens Entertainment Department is like a family, so when you meet fellow castmembers, you feel as though you've known them for years. I'm pretty sure he's my new best friend.

That night, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying was just as hilarious and entertaining as I remembered. I really wanted my mom to see it since it's one of my favorite Broadway productions, so I stopped by the box office on Wednesday to get tickets for Friday night. They were sold out, leaving me empty-handed and annoyed that I'd taken the trip all the way out to Times Square for nothing. After getting home, my mom suggested Saturday, so I trudged back up to the box office later that evening after procrastinating all day. Fairly certain that Saturday night would be sold out, too, I tentatively asked the box office manager, "Do you by any chance have five seats open on Saturday night?" He practically laughed in my face, but checked anyways. Three mouse clicks and he spouted "You are the luckiest girl in New York City!" A party of five cancelled just one minute earlier, leaving five premium seats in the fifth row open for last minute claiming. The best part is, they ended up being one fourth of the price we normally would've paid for those kind of seats! In this case, procrastination proved useful since the theatre would've been full had I asked any earlier in the day.

At the Russian vodka bar

Tess, her brother Christian, Jacob, Mike, Justin, and his dad met us after the show for drinks at a Russian vodka bar, but no one lasted past 1a.m. as exhaustion from the busy weekend set in. We woke up this morning to attend Hillsong, Brittany's New York church. The weekend concluded with brunch, a tour of my apartment, and sending off not only my mom and Sherwin, but Brittany as well. To say I was (am) sad is an understatement. A pit in my stomach still remains as I lie here in bed without Brittany to my right. The bedroom is unbearably giant without her queen size blow up mattress next to the window and clothes on her side of the closet. I tried to distract myself by grabbing dinner with Ryan, the guy I met a few weeks ago from Villanova, on the Upper East Side, but that only lasted for the time being. The second we parted ways at the train station, I became stifled by a cloud of loneliness. I knew not having Brittany around would be hard, but not this hard. When you spend as much time with someone as the two of us did, you become unknowingly addicted to their presence. I feel like I'm going through a break up or something!

I have to find a new apartment this week so that I'm not living in Penn Station on December 15th. Wish me luck. At How to Succeed on Saturday, two people payed $5,000 to meet Daniel Radcliffe (aka Harry Potter) backstage and take home a bowtie he wore in the musical. Someday, I will be able to put a roof over my head just by shaking someone's hand...right.

Life Goes On

Life goes on. We say that a lot without thinking, but there's a reason why the phrase is so popular. No matter the struggle, be it coping with a tragic death or running late for a meeting, life goes on. In the most devastating of circumstances, life may never be the same- but it will go on. One of the most common struggles in life is the dreaded break up. Most of us have experienced at least one heart-wrenching split and are still alive to speak of it. Hearing "life goes on" during that distressing recovery period is the most frustrating thing in the world. But is it true? You bet.

I've had my fair share of break ups. No, that's an understatement. I've definitely had more than what I'd consider fair. I remember once saying to an older mentor, "This is not the kind of thing that ever gets easier." She assured me that it does. I didn't believe her at the time, but looking back, I've realized the wisdom in her words. Enduring failed relationship after failed relationship, most of them short stints that are hardly worthy of the term "relationship," has taught me the art of a quick(er) recovery. Break ups never feel good, but they are much more bearable once you grasp the concept that life really does go on. You really will find someone else. Someone better. Every guy I've dated has plenty of great qualities and I wish them the best in life, but each one has been better than the last- or at least taught me something new.

Now, I'm not claiming to be the master of post-break up emotional stability. I most certainly have my moments of frustration and despair. What I have conquered is shutting up that little voice in my head that says "You'll never find anyone else." Perhaps my ability to kick that thought to the curb is because I've never been in love- at least not in my mature adult years (if I'm even a mature adult). I think I loved my first boyfriend, but much of our relationship was founded on needing each other for that period of our lives rather than the fact that we complimented each other's characters. Hence why I hesitate saying we were "in love" rather than just two people who loved each other. Since then, I've only experienced infatuation. Still, I am thankful that each relationship- major or minor- has strengthened my sense of what I want from my ultimate relationship. I now know how I never want to behave again, how I don't want to be treated, how I do want to be treated, what I'm willing to compromise, and the things I need to stick up for. Not only does life go on after a break up, but you have so much more to look forward to. All of the things you learned can be applied to the next exciting relationship to make it even better than the last. After all, there's a reason it didn't work out other than the fact that your ex was "just a jerk."

Deeply caring for a significant other and mourning that loss is nothing to be ashamed of. We are made to desire companionship. When we lose that companionship, two choices remain: wallow in despair or try to feel better. Of course we think that everyone wants to feel better, but I know in the past I've not wanted to feel better because that means "it's really over." Letting go is not my forte. This is why I respect anyone who forces themselves to feel better after a break up. Some people make themselves busy (like I've learned to do), others find a hobby, while many surround themselves with uplifting quotes and social support. Perhaps all three.

Someone signing the poster on the subway

I met a girl at a promotion last week who was dumped by a guy she'd been dating for nine years-NINE YEARS- just one week before the promotion. They share an apartment in Manhattan, so she has to see him every day as she searches for a new place to live. I do not know how she was able to function at work, but she was taking her happiness into her own hands by getting out of the house and meeting new people. In a more extreme journey to recovery, a young man walked onto the train today wearing a poster over his shoulders like an advertisement, holding two sharpies. He told people on the train that "the love of his life" broke up with him last night and he'd appreciate any encouraging quotes or stories to get him through this difficult time. I was amazed at all of the people who jumped on the chance to write on his poster. Surprisingly, most were men. No one wrote anything mean to make fun of him, rather related with words of comfort.

I don't tend to air my dirty laundry, so that second strategy of healing made me feel a little awkward, but hey- to each his own. Reminding ourselves that life goes on is crucial to our happiness. Dwelling on the past won't change a thing, so we must focus on the possibility of an unimaginably bright future in a world that will keep on turning whether we like it or not.

NYC: Part 1

How is it possible that I've already been here for 3 1/2 months?? Part of me feels like the time has gone so fast, but another part of me feels like I've been here for at least a year. Spending every day in Lynn's home office feels like ages ago, but bringing Brittany up the elevator for the first time feels like last week. I can't believe how much has happened since the first day I stepped out of the Chinatown bus. I've worked as an administrative assistant for a skin care line, a waitress at a Sicilian restaurant, an escort for guests of the NASDAQ closing bell ceremony, a promotions girl handing out rapper-endorsed energy shots, an assistant to an attorney, and next week I will be a holiday elf for a T-Mobile event. That's not a joke. In between those odd jobs, I've seen old friends from high school, Busch Gardens, and dog sledding. I've made new friends with Miss New York girls, promotion girls, my roommates, Lindsay and Jim's friends, and random people at social events. I know the locations of most Starbucks, can give visitors directions, and work the subway system like a pro...except when I lose my balance and go flying into a stranger. Some things will never change.

Tomorrow, I am looking at a possible new apartment. Leaving my current living situation and preparing for Brittany to go back to Virginia (for now) makes me feel like the first chapter of my life in New York is coming to an end. Just when I'm getting in the groove of things, I have to pick up and change locations. Hopefully I'll end up with roommates as amazing as the ones I've had for the last three months, but no matter what, I'm not looking forward to readjusting...again. It'll be nice to have my own room, but odds are I won't be as close to Manhattan, nor will I have the comforts that come with living in a luxury highrise. I've been spoiled, to say the least. I'm just hoping that the room I look at tomorrow works out so that I don't have to go through the "searching for a place to live" process much longer.

Despite the fact that I'm losing the security of my familiar apartment and closest friend aside from family in the City, I'm so grateful for the constants that will remain. One of those constants is my friend, Meg, who spent the past two days with me. We have a little tradition of drinking wine and watching long, old movies, so "Gone With the Wind" fit the bill on Sunday afternoon. Afterwards, we headed to Brittany's 'Bound for Broadway' showcase- the cabaret she and I were both hired for a few weeks ago. Brittany wasn't just amazing- she was hands down the stand out of the entire show! I couldn't have been more proud watching her sing her face off and charm the audience in a classy, worthy manner. So much of the musical theatre world has been tainted by crude jokes and over-the-top lyrics, but Brittany's performance was a testament to how talent and great acting is far more entertaining than performances that are meant to shock the audience.

Yesterday, Meg and I met again to go over the details of my own showcase that is coming up. She is an entertainment lawyer (just sworn in to the New York Bar- congrats, Meg!) and retired performer, so she knows the business inside and out. I can't believe how lucky I am to have met her dog sledding almost a year ago. Not only is she a devoted friend who actually wants to sit down and discuss my career with me, but she's more than qualified in doing so. She helped me pick out the two songs I'll be singing, brainstormed a catchy introduction, showed me the best places to print head shots, and offered her legal advice for free whenever I'm asked to sign a performance contract. I love her apart from all the ways she can/has helped me, but it's sure nice to know someone with her knowledge!

I left Meg's studio apartment in high spirits, excited to get home and start practicing my song choices. After a few hours of memorizing and playing around with karaoke tracks on Youtube, Conor texted me and asked if I'd "fancy a late night movie." Why can't all men talk like the ones in Europe? I looked up movie times for 50/50 and Immortals, assuming he'd have no interest in seeing the recently released Twilight movie, Breaking Dawn. When I told him the options and jokingly said that I didn't even look into Breaking Dawn, he said he wouldn't mind if that's what I wanted to see. Bad move, Conor. I'm a girl- clearly, I will take you up on that offer. Once Brittany found out that I'd be spending the evening with Conor and Edward Cullen, she eagerly asked to join...before you knew it, Conor was trapped in the Breaking Dawn theatre with three drooling girls: Brittany, her friend Rebecca, and myself. I barely felt guilty until 15 minutes in, when I realized that this was by far the worst movie I've seen. If I thought it was awful, I can't imagine what an exhausted, 23-year-old male thought of it. The poor guy probably just wanted a relaxing, enjoyable night after his stressful Monday and sleepless weekend. I owe him big time.

Tonight is mine and Brittany's last night together, just the two of us, so we're having a little date night. But right now I have to run to meet Rayna! We're birthday present shopping for Kelly. Hopefully this awful, rainy weather will lighten up a bit...