Ode to Friendship

  This past weekend I took a trip to Tuscaloosa. My best friend graduated from college and our entire friend circle was there to celebrate and support her in this milestone. While graduating from college is great and all I learned this weekend that a degree doesn't hold all of the answers to life. 

   That little slip of paper won't tell me where to go to apply for jobs. It won't show me my future husband (God willing there is one), and it sure as hell won't help me make decisions. That piece of paper will be framed and hung in my house. Where it will collect dust until I'm too old for it to matter any more and take it down. 

   

   

    If the world ends Friday I will have spent my ENTIRE life in school. Sixteen years of school, SIXTEEN years of school! For a damn piece of paper that won't even pick out my clothes in the morning, which is the hardest part of my day. 

    Those sixteen years and that piece of paper represent something much greater than the degree I worked for. It is a symbol of triumph, and more than that friendship. 

    I realized as watched my friends dance and act a fool while we drank to our graduate that these people were the reason I survived the last sixteen years. While some are old friends, and some are new they all have been a part of life, and I knew that no piece of paper was ever going to mean more to me than this support group. 

   Without these people that paper would mean nothing. Who would I share it with? Who would help me celebrate. These people would help me look for jobs, a husband, and make my decisions if I let them. They would be there to cry on and vent to. They would give pep talks when I wanted nothing more to give up, and to scold me when my judgement failed. These people were sent to me by God, and the last sixteen years were meant to only refine our friendship. 

     Our lives might take us all to different corners of the country, but it will never take away our bond. This bond is one that can't be broken. Possibly because we know too much about each other, or maybe because it would take too much time to train new friends. But I have never been more sure than now that we will NEVER grow apart. 

DISCLAIMER: This post goes for those friends, who were in attendance and those of you who were not. It also goes for those friends who are relatively new additions into my life. I love you all. No, but seriously I love you. 

My Rock

Hey guys, This is a story I wrote for my creative non-fiction class. It got positive feedback even though by the time I got around to writing it I was so over school work I barely spent any time on it. It could use some editing this I know, but the grammatical errors won't change the point I make. Hope you all enjoy it. 

I could taste the salt in the air. The breeze it floated on getting stronger by the second. The tide slowly creeping up around the rocks I sat on. My classmates and new found friends surrounded me, all of us silent, our minds in our own thoughts.

We were sitting amongst the thousands of natural octagonal stones that rest in Northern Ireland making up what is known as The Giant’s Causeway. Easily one of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen. But, being there it can become overwhelming. As I crawled over the stones and put my hands in the water I began to wonder how many hands have done the same thing. How many people had sat in this same spot and taken in the beauty? Surely a place this old has seen more action than a hundred college kids that happened to be assaulting it today. This was a place that fights erosion every day. To it we were just mere pimples on a non-important day.

 Sitting as far out as the peninsula would allow I turned to look back at the causeway and suddenly I was a speck. I was an insignificant being made of water, blood, and organs disguised as a fashionable twenty-year old girl sent here to bring her ego back down to size. How many people, just like me, had questioned there existence in this world?  

As I sat on those rocks that were at least two thousand years old, and would certainly be there long after me I wondered about my life and how I had made it here to this whole other country with people I’d never met and my life began playing back like a home movie.

When I was five I said my first cuss word. In the second grade I made my first “real” friend. Then when I was nine my sister moved away to college and left me by myself at night upstairs for the first time. I lost a best friend when I was ten because I refused to grow up too fast. In the seventh grade I was the only girl in my class without boobs, and in the ninth grade I belonged to my first mean girl group.

These pieces of my life swirled around my mind like leaves picked up by the wind. Memories that I had tucked away suddenly brought back by the magnificence of the causeway.

This trip came at a great time. What I needed was 2 ½ weeks in a different country six hours ahead of anyone who would want to talk to me. I needed a break. After several failed attempts at relationships trying to forget one I couldn’t, I needed time alone. My friends, no matter how much I love them, were drinking every night and I couldn’t take it anymore. Life had to offer something else besides beer.

Somewhere between the drinking every night and terrible break up I had gained 30 pounds, an issue I had no idea how to reverse. I was the biggest I had ever been and I never wanted to leave my house. I wasn’t fit for the human eye. Looking in the mirror I saw Pooh Bear with his honey jar.

Suddenly, this rock held all the answers. I am Abbi-Storm, and I would work hard and have the life I wanted. If this rock out here in the middle of nowhere Ireland could survive all these years then I could survive my life.

I could handle the countless rejections. I could handle the constant drinking, and dammit I could handle my weight. This rock had given me a strength that no one else in my life had been able to do.

Maybe it wasn’t just that particular rock. Maybe it was the causeway or maybe it was all of Ireland, but I was empowered. My life was going to change and I was going to be the one who made it. 

Truth Behind Tailgating

    Football. It's a great American past time. It's practically the heartbeat of the south. We are raised to cheer for the SEC no matter what. Rival games are what we live for. Alabama, Auburn, Ole Miss, Mississippi State, LSU the list continues. I personally was raised an Auburn fan something I've struggled with my ENTIRE life. But, it's not just about the love of the game it's about the action before the game. Tailgating.
    The key to football in the South is 

1. Stand by your team no matter the season.
2. Tailgate.

    Both of those things are not easy to accomplish. Standing by your team can become difficult especially with the season Auburn has had this year and the appeal to jump on the bandwagon to Tuscaloosa where they've been delivering national championships. Everyone wants to be a winner, but the true winner is the person that sticks with their team. That's the true fan. 
    Let's get down to the real business, what it takes to tailgate southern style. It's about the food, the tent, and most of all... the outfit. Of course the classic team logo t-shirt is always an acceptable choice. It still represents your team well. The more southern way to fashionably show up to a tailgate is to dress like this football game could quite possibly be the social function of the year. 
     Put on a nice dress or skirt in your teams color. Buy a button and pin it on. Throw on some boots or sandals depending on the season, heels if you think you can handle it. And for god's sake fix your hair. This is the south we don't just wear our hair "down" let's be for real. Sacrifices might have to be mad. You might be hot for a little while or cold by the time the games over. Your feet might hurt when you get home, and the headband you've been wearing might be giving you a headache. A price must be paid for beauty and fashion and comfort is the first to go. 
      Remember ladies we don't dress to impress, we dress to out-dress. 
  So next time you get an opportunity to tailgate at a southern football game make sure you have an appropriate outfit, and for all of our grandmothers sake don't show up without some kind of baked good. Save a little face to your southern counterparts, dress appropriately and NEVER, I mean NEVER take that smile off your face. Doesn't matter how good your outfit is if you start acting a fool and being rude even to the other team's fans. 

Jackie vs. Marilyn

    I know it's been awhile school has been getting the best of me... Hahaha who am I kidding? Partying has been getting the best of me and because of that school has taken a back seat. I spent the last week playing catch-up. 
    So anyway last night while finishing up an art history paper on the fashion of the Roman world one of the greatest movies of all time was on TV. Legally Blonde. Not only is it a great movie, but it is one of the only blonde empowering movies out there and as a bleach blonde myself that's instant brownie points. 
   Most of you probably know the movie and I'm not here to summarize, but in the beginning Warner is breaking up with Elle over dinner and of course she causes a scene. However, it is the reason he gives her that I bring up today.

            He tells her "I need a Jackie not a Marilyn." 

   Of course he is referring to Jackie Onassis and Marilyn Monroe. Two very influential women of their time in two very different ways. One the trophy wife of a Kennedy and the other a movie star known for her various romances. 
     OK fine every one has different taste in women, but to compare them in this manner is seriously upsetting. When our world sinks to comparing these iconic women to every day women we are left we unattainable goals. Not to mention these women had their fair share of problems in their own life. 

   Why must women think the have to live up to the standards of a world that has long ago left us. We longer are forced into the kitchen by the government propaganda  June Cleaver. If we make the men in our life a sandwich it is because we choose to do so. Our free will is present in every decision we make followed by our desire to please our man. These women made their own decisions and stood tall in the eye of the public. The sandwiches they made were for the women who would come after them. 
   We long to be accepted, loved, and appreciated. We want to be like Tammy and stand by our man, like Jackie and be strong, fashionable and face the spot light of scandal with a smile, and most of all like Marilyn we want to be everything a woman is supposed to be and do it while being sexy. 
    The balance is hard but not impossible. Women of the world do not be discouraged your place in society is uniquely yours just as it was Jackie's and Marilyn's. 

Southern Charm or Redneck?

*Disclaimer- I do not mean to offend anyone who had or wishes to have cowboy boots be a part of their wedding.

    I attended a wedding yesterday, and yes it was a wedding on a Sunday. I think perhaps the first wedding I've been too on a Sunday. I didn't know either the bride or the groom I went as a date and basically my entire circle of friends was there. And being very fond of weddings I never turn down an invite.
    Now, I knew before hand that the bridal party would be wearing boots, something that I've grown to accept as being part of several southern weddings. But that's besides the point. While getting dressed I had several factors to think about. It was an outdoor wedding, at 4 O'clock, it had a "rustic" theme, there was going to be a keg, and of course the whole boot thing. I chose a blue dress and paired it with some new red heels. Dressing down never really was my thing.
     Upon arriving I realized that cowboy boots weren't just being worn by the bridal party but by almost every girl in attendance. Also, there were people there in jeans... in jeans! I couldn't believe it.
     By this point I'm trying to take in all of my surrounding. Decorations, seating, atmosphere everything, but I'm not here to harp on this girls wedding. I'm here to talk about the fine line between southern charm and straight up redneck.
     I know you cannot exactly control what your guests wear, but if the entire bridal party is already wearing boots then having guests in jeans really pushes your affair into the redneck side. Sitting on hay bells instead of actual seating can be considered rustic, but when you have a keg it takes a turn to the redneck.
     All of these things are not singularly bad it's when they are combined that it becomes bad. Now, just because we are from the south does not mean we can't have class. And I think that because the world already thinks of us as rednecks we have a harder time pulling the "rustic" southern wedding off without coming across as rednecks.
     If your true personality is the burlap, boot, mason jar type then so be it. But personally I think it's being over done. We're southern, maybe a bit country we know. Why must we flaunt it so?

We all need a little twang

   The fact that I am finding time in the midst of my pile of school work to write this tells me two things.

1. I could be a professional procrastinator .
2. The display of "southern" acting I just witness on NBC has me outraged. 

    While I am slowing falling in love the new show Chicago Fire tonight they introduced a very minor character who was supposed to be from Alabama. Now normally I like a little southern spice in my TV shows it adds a small touch of home that makes it easy to relate to. But this girl... this girl took the twang from Truvvy's Beauty Shop and times it by a million. I was appalled. 
    Is it possible to sue someone for libel, for defamation of the south's character? Everyone that watches Chicago Fire will now assume we sound like breathy twangy idiots. Which we don't and will therefore be a let down to anyone who has never actually met a girl from the south. 
    Do actors not actually come to the south to study their subjects? Do they not understand the assuming we sound like idiots makes and ass out of them and us? On top of that who do I contact in regards to this out right insult to my culture?
    These people are apparently not from here, nor have they ever been anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon, and I my request is simple. Do your stinking homework and learn what we actually sound like! You're getting paid to do something wrong, I don't get an A on a test for guessing all of the wrong answers. 
     My accent is part of my charm, it is something I have had to come to terms with. As I grow up it grows on me and I realize I wouldn't ever change it. It is part of the charm of the south and will be as long as the south exists. 
   

Fall aka football season

    Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest. I don't buy that for a minute. I've been studying for two days straight and don't think I actually retain any of the information. On top of that I think i'm getting the flu, which is a self diagnosis of course but oh well. 
    This probably isn't going to make a lot of sense to everyone, but it needs to be said. I do not like football. There I said it, and if I lived anywhere else in the world beside the south it probably wouldn't matter as much. Down here in the south people live and breathe college football. 
    Football season is my least favorite time of the year. A time when people should care about pumpkins and the fair ,and don't get me wrong I love to tailgate but all conversation revolves around football. Who's going to be #1? Who do you go for? Who has the best offense/defense?
    These questions circulate any gathering. Everyone trying to judge where the other one stands. For me being raised an Auburn fan and dating a few Alabama fans I've grown to know the rules or how the game is played. Don't get me wrong for people to have something to bond over is a plus. Football brings together people that normally would not meet. My problem with it is that the South shuts down on Saturdays. Conversations will go on for hours debating one player. It's as if life has nothing else going on but football.
     The only other problem and bless them it's not their fault, but just because I am from the fine state of Alabama does mean that I pull for the crimson tide. They may have the same name, but it's not the only school our state has. They may be dominate on the field, but it doesn't make them accumulate all the fans in the state. 
     I have learned to survive football season with thriving off my love of a challenge. As much as I hate football I will never turn down a reason to buy an outfit. A weekend spent in Auburn go ahead pull out the blue dress and orange jacket. Going to Tuscaloosa, let me grab a white dress and hounds-tooth scarf. The challenge of pulling off being an actual fan is easier than it sounds. I can look the part no problem it's sitting through the game I have to struggle through. My trick? Clap when everyone else does. Cheer when everyone else does. Never make the first sound when it comes to heckling. And while everyone is discussing plays, and flags the only thing I can think about is what material their jerseys are made out of. 
    

You can't go home again

    Well folks, I just returned from a Luke Bryan show. 

1. He is more hot in person than on TV.
2. He is 36, married with a kid. 
3. He is possibly the best dancer in the country music world.

In the mix of shaking it for me and the rest of the crowd he managed to put on a damn good show. He asked the audience to do something during his show that got me thinking. "If you're proud to be from Alabama say hell yeah." Of course the entire crowd yelled including me, but were we all truly proud to be from Alabama? I have no way of knowing.

    There are days that I think being an Alabamian has held me back. There are days that I think being from Alabama has taught me some true American values that not everyone gets to learn. There are some days that my Southern values clash so hard with my own values that my head hurts. 

    Luke Bryan is from Georgia ,and I'm sure that with his fame he wouldn't change that. I would like to know how hard his journey to fame was and how it would have been different from a bigger state, a bigger town, a non-southern origin. Would it have been easier to find a dream job if my resume had never said Muscle Shoals High School on it?

    After thinking for awhile on whether I was proud or not to be from Alabama I finally decided that yes I was proud. This is where I grew up, this is where I learned to ride a bike, this is where I learned the difference between the SEC and everyone else. I learned to drive a stick in the field behind my house. I had my first love and my first heat break. I've been going to one of the last drive-in movies since I was 15. I can't imagine being from anywhere else, and no matter how much shit I talk about it I would never change it. 

   I can only hope that what I have learned from it will push me forward rather than bring me down. My values will prove a plus rather than a burden. This is my home, and I'm proud to be from Alabama. 

Girls Just Want to Have Fun

     Cyndi thought she knew what she was talking about, and hey maybe she still does. But I don't think it's true. As a girl I believe that fun is a priority, but it's not all I want to have. How about a dog, new shoes, a boyfriend to cut my grass? Did she ever think of those things? 
    Probably all beside the point anyway. You can't have it all. If I only had fun I would never be able to afford a dog or new shoes. Let alone catch a man. So right there, that is where we as girls start making sacrifices. Do I want that new pair of boots or do I want to go have "fun" Saturday night? If I buy those boots I won't be able to afford that dog at the pound which sucks the "fun" from that adventure. So which one do you choose?
     I think to be able to choose we'd have to define "fun." An abstract opinion word that will never be agreed upon. So readers, what is fun? 
     Here in the dixie land I wonder I am obligated to choose the "fun" that leads to a husband, 2 kids and a dog? This place that tells me I need a man to validate my existence. A place where I receive scowls when I say "I don't want to have children."  Does any of that sound "fun" to you? I am sure for some people it does, and there is nothing wrong with that. But why must my birthplace set such standards that I never wish to achieve?
    I guess the best way to say it is Cyndi was half right, girls just want to have different kinds of fun. I don't really have a conclusion this is more just food for thought. What does it truly mean that girls just want to have fun. Can girls of the south pave their own way in the world or must we seek out our true love and procreate?

For starters

     I was raised on manners and sweet tea, as I'm sure the entire population of the south was. I have fought stereotypes of my raising my whole life, and I am sure that I have not heard the last of it. In a world full of reality TV depicting "southerners" that have become ambassadors for my home. How have we fallen from the likes Scarlet O'Hara and ended up with Honey Boo Boo? Problems like this are what we face from here on. As southerners we have become a dying species. 

   This blog is about being stuck between the place I call home and the world that waits beyond the Mason Dixon. The balance of high fashion and Alabama fashion. How to make my own place in this world and not forget where I came from or how I was raised. 

    I only hope this provides strength, humor, and hope to those who need it and let's someone know they are not alone. 

-with love-