25.

Well kids, I'm officially old. A quarter of a century, to be exact. That's right. On the 18th I turned 25. I spent the week and half or so celebrating this momentous occasion, from seeing both Grace Potter and The Raconteurs at the Ryman to singing karaoke while eating a cookie cake with my senior picture self in the middle. The only thing that could have made all the happy birthdaying any more epic would have been if Jack himself had sang to me from the Ryman stage, and let's be honest, we're not there yet, kids.

Turning 25 makes me think back to when I turned 16. I wore seersucker and I distinctly remember telling my best girlfriend at the post-party sleepover that I couldn't wait to turn 25 because that's when you become established. Who knows what episode of "Saved by the Bell" I got that from, but I was convinced of the inevitable transformation that would occur on this particular year. Truth: I am not at all the girl I was at 16. I've grown taller and hopefully smarter, been on my own, loved and lost people I will always adore, and had my fair share of mini-breakdowns and moments of pure happiness. Now here I am at 25. I'm somehow allowed to (attempt to) shape young minds every day, and while yes, sometimes I want to yell mean things and run away from the creatures called 8th graders, I am thankful for the opportunity and welcome the challenge. I have solid friends who keep life oh so interesting, and no, I do not need the anti-aging cream just yet. Oh, and I can now rent a car. I'm pretty neutral on my level of excitement on that one, but hey, it is a perk that comes with this age.

So here's to being 25. Turn up the music and roll the windows down.

I'm happy.

she's got the medicine that everybody wants.

Earlier this week I had the good fortune of seeing Ms. Grace Potter & the Nocturnals at the Ryman and I officially adore her. How can you not? She has awesomely blonde hair with the Alison Mosshart bangs, legs that go on for days paired with the highest stilettos, and perfectly short dresses that I would gladly welcome into my wardrobe. To complete her bad A package she has a killer voice AND the ability to play just about any instrument, electric Fender included, and still belt the big notes without so much as breaking a sweat. Oh, and she has her very own band of Nocturnals to play with her on the daily. Ooh la la, indeed.

For her first stint headlining the Ryman, GP played an UH-MAZING set, complete with my favorite not-so-love song off her first album, "Apologies," and everyone's new favorites, "Medicine" and "Paris." She moved across that stage, dancing and shaking in massive heels, and we all fell in love with her rocker stage presence that is rarely found at such a level in female performers. All of this, and at THE RYMAN. I was a very happy girl.

If I die young, I hope to come back as Grace Potter.

"You hell on boys, let's see how you do with a man."

Fact: I have started writing 4 or 5 different “books” in the past 4 or 5 years. I’ll get this idea in my head for an excellent piece of (at the least) chick lit, I’ll write and write, and then the inevitable happens….I get too caught up in juggling real life and end up with a couple questionable chapters of an undeveloped story. These half finished works of mine are, embarrassingly enough, mostly about a girl falling in love and living happily ever after with the prince charming of her choosing, and I cannot believe I am admitting that I, too, more than once, fell trap to the fluff. However, I don’t want to write clichés any longer. After all, it isn’t always rainbows and butterflies, right? We aren’t always supremely happy, we don’t always have the best relationship with our parents and not all stories end with the protagonist lucky in love and making bank.

I just finished reading “Provinces of Night” by William Gay, a Southern Gothic writer who lives in Hohenwald and actually signed the copy that I was so graciously leant. His style is uncanny, writing such dialogue that you honestly feel as if you’re somehow in the book, witnessing it all right next to Boyd and Raven Lee. He writes the nitty gritty, and I can’t help but crave to emulate that somehow in a piece of my own. Sure, it’s a far cry from the pseudo romantic comedies I’ve starting writing before, but I feel like this is the time for me to actually write about real life and real relationships. Everyday is not a fairytale, and not every story ends so nicely. That’s what I love about both “Provinces” and my personal favorite, “The Long Home” – all loose ends are not tied up at the conclusion of the story, and everyone does not necessarily live happily ever after. All these black-and-white-I’ll-die-for-you-after-knowing-you-for-a-week stories can’t hold a candle to the gray, er muddy, areas that W paints in his stories that have so enthralled me this summer.

Ladies, and perhaps gentlemen, put down whatever fluff your pretending to mindlessly enjoy and pick up something with a little more grit. I strongly suggest the aforementioned as well as “Fay” by Larry Brown, a story of a less than leading lady so intriguing and perfectly told that I solemnly swore to never ever read the fluff again.

xoxo.

Ah, September.

This might possibly be my favorite month. I love summer, I do, more than most anything, but if the seasons must change then I will welcome September with open arms. Sure, I am not a fan of saying so long sweet summer, but this beginning month of fall ushers in many happies...

Exhibit A: College football is back, which means hello again to SEC haircuts, game day festivities and Sportscenter being a constant on your tv. Now I understand some girls tend to dread football season and all that it entails, i.e. a lack of attention from generally all males during games. However, I happen to love SEC football and all that it entails, especially when it involves good people and good beer. After all, I am a Southern girl.

Exhibit B: My birthday falls on the 18th, and while I am always excited when there is a reason for a nice little get together, I am even more excited this go around because I am turning the Big 2-5. That's right, kids, a quarter of a century. Oh the days when I thought 25 was when one became established, er, old...

Exhibit C: Jack White, in the form of The Raconteurs, at the Ryman on the 15th. Seeing Jack live at the Ryman might be the greatest thing, ever.

So here's to school supplies, cooler weather, football, birthdays, road trips, boots, the Ryman and everything in between. September, please be sweet.

J Roddy and Turtles.

Ok, so I don't usually go on music rants. It's no secret that I am obsessed with music, lyrics most specifically, but I usually swing the old-fashioned way and just pass good music on to friends here and there. However, I must tell my most recent obsessions. Actually there are two that have recently captured my heart and soul...

1. J Roddy Walston & the Business, J Roddy Walston & the Business

I loved them from the second I heard their name, I mean, what is NOT to love when "the Business" is part of the group name and album title? They have a Southern raw grit sound that you just can't get anymore, and their lyrics are as hilarious as they are geniusly true. Yes, it's safe to say I have a major crush on these boys from Baltimore, and while I was sadly not there to see them at Bonnaroo, I hear they were outrageous. Buy the album, immediately fall in love with "Don't Break the Needle," "Pig and Pearls," and "Caroline." I dare you not to sing at the top of your lungs. Honestly, I have had this album on repeat ever since it was given to me, and I love when friends ride with me and they start to love J Roddy as well. Spreading the love, that's what I'm doing.

2. Trampled by Turtles, Palomino

Oh man, I cannot say enough about this album. Beware, you might just cry the first one or two times you listen to "Bloodshot Eyes," but I promise, it's worth the emotional roller coaster. These guys for real know what they're doing, and the gamut of feelings you get whilst listening to their bluegrass amazingness is perfect. Each song is hauntingly beautiful, enough to make you want to either grab somebody and kiss them or text your most recent significant other and admit you miss them. After listening to the aforementioned track, listen to "Wait So Long" and tell me that's not about a prostitute in a small town. Bluegrass at it's finest. Enough said.

Now here's the beautiful part for those of you who live in (or close enough to) Nashville. Both bands are playing shows in October, and both at pretty small venues. I could not be more excited! Buy the albums, get your tickets, and prepare to fall in love with good music.

XOXO.

teenage dream.

So I'm teaching 8th grade English again this year...same song, second verse. A brand new year means brand new kids, and let me tell you, these kids are not afraid to say exactly what they're thinking!

On the first day, I decided to forgo the boring "stand and say your name and then what you did this summer" and opted for the more creative, 2 Truths and a Lie. The name of the game is to try and trick your classmates, blurring the line between the truth and lies about yourself. Although I had been warned by far smarter bystanders that I should brace myself for less than appropriate responses, I was confident that this would work! And work it did, until the last period of the day. One nerdy, yet confident boy that shall go unnamed simply because I haven't learned his name yet, comes to the front to take his turn:

"I'm really good at basketball.

I made all A's last year.

(....long pause.....)
...AND Ms. Powell makes me feel like I'm living a teenage dream."

Needless to say I was shocked and totally weirded out, making it impossible to hold any resemblance of a stern teacher face. So I laughed, called him Katy Perry and told him to sit down. It is definitely going to be an interesting year.

With all that said, I'm holding onto summer for the time being... staying up too late, driving with my windows rolled down and singing some J. Roddy.
I know you hate me baby, but don't break the needle.

Vegas, baby!

Vegas, Vegas, Vegas... I have to admit, I really had no idea what to expect from my first date with Vegas, what with all of its glittery awesomeness. We drove in from LA through the desert that is Nevada, like the true bad A's that we are, and I knew from the time we drove past Caeser's that it was going to be an excellent girl's weekend. By the time we got to the room and made ourselves presentable it was sometime after midnight, which is early around those parts, so we headed to dinner at this perfect little Italian place on the streets of faux-NYC. This is also where I made one of many comedic attempts at winning BIG at the slots...naturally they hooked me and every other girl under the age of 45 with a "sex and the city" game. I spent a whole dollar and pushed buttons hoping to get lucky, and when the machine did in fact go nuts with crazy lights surrounding "Mr. Big: $712.16" and cheesy theme music ensued I thought I had won BIG for sure. So we were all freaking out and being girls about it until the actual "win ticket" printed out, clearly stating I had won $16.12. Was I still excited? Of course.

So from there the adventure continued...I saw WAY too many brides, 98% of whom had a beer (or two) in leu of a bouquet, and I witnessed more boys bachelor-partying than I ever imagined...sadly no Bradley Cooper lookalikes, though. But I promise you, we saw it ALL, including Celine Dion, which I have to say was just as cheesy as I expected but was such a great show that even I was giving her a standing O at the end just like every other fan in the packed house. And yes, she encored with "my heart will go on" and yes, the lady in front of us SOBBED during its entirety. I also may or may not have contracted some sort of sexually transmitted disease from walking barefoot through the Luxor due to the fact that my heels just weren't working for me anymore after many hours.

All in all, we spent quality time by the pool, got some good sun and met some pretty interesting characters, and laughed the WHOLE time. We boxed it out to keep the creepers at a safe distance, and we saw more asian tourists (sorry Chuck) than we ever expected to see in one place. Vegas was just as cheesy and wonderful as I imagined it to be, from the showgirls on the street at 10 am to the cotton candy I was served after eating at a buffet (no judgement, it's a Vegas institution!).

We spent a lot of dolla dolla bills and lost a lot of sleep, but we did not lose our dignity, despite our surroundings. And after all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? We sure hope so.

xo.