But it is important.

It’s important that I moved here, that I struggled, that I got my heart broken into tiny little pieces and slowly picked them back up again.  It’s important that I made friends and got this job and sang in coffee shops and played around with Preston in the studio.  It’s important that I’ve seen Chris Thile and Dierks Bentley and Sarah Jarosz in concert, as well as some of my good friends.  It’s important that sometimes I don’t care that there is “Nashville Stuff” to do and I just go see a movie instead.  It’s important that I’ve learned to love food and all things kitchen related.  It’s very important that I managed to fall in love again despite myself.  It’s important that my best friend moved here last year and managed to shake my world up in her own special way.

It’s important because this is my home and was always meant to be.  Everchanging reasons aside, this is where I’m supposed to be.

I called my grandma.  I made a meal that took more than 20 minutes to prepare (hellooooo, eggplant parmesan, those two and a half hours were totally worth you).  I wrote a song.  And I made my little music corner a little more inspiring.

In the last house I lived, I had two rooms to myself.  That meant I had a bedroom and a room for music and other creative endeavors.  I could go in there and mentally shut out the rest of the world.  It was my sanctuary.

In this house, I live with good friends who always have stories to tell, a lot of shared space, and just a little to myself.  It’s not a bad thing, but it’s been an adjustment.

I thought my bedroom was just the way I wanted it, but earlier this week I realized it needed a little something more… not for the sake of the space but for the sake of creating a space in my head where I can go to just be.

I think I’m one step closer now.

Do you have a sanctuary?

Tell me about it.

That’s where I first heard the news.

We got back to Grant’s place and I immediately turned his computer on.  My mom had emailed me the first article from our hometown Herald.  I went back to facebook.  I turned to Google.  I found whatever I could find, which was not much.

All I know is that my 7th grade math teacher, a woman well-known, well-loved in our small community, just disappeared Saturday morning.

Just disappeared.

The community has pulled together, of course.  Over a thousand people have volunteered to search.  The police department is looking.  The National Guard is looking.  Border patrol is looking.  Surrounding counties have sent help in the form of extra officers and dog teams.  Civilian owned planes are in the air.  Some people are amazed.  I expected nothing less.

And that’s why I hold out hope, though even in the nearly three day search, all they have yet to find is a single running shoe.  Because from what might as well be a million miles away, it’s all I can do. Hope.

And pray.  Will you pray too?

I took a bunch of pictures of the way we decorated the house, the lights out at Opryland, my family, my boyfriend… I had plans of sharing them here.  But now, I think, maybe it’s best to just keep it simple, and say all the cleaning and baking and anticipation was worth it.  I had the most wonderful holiday… relaxing, love filled.  I hope yours was just as wonderful.

So I went to Minnesota for Thanksgiving.  I came back to Nashville for 24 hours, and then I flew to Palo Alto for the rest of the week for work.  I went to a Christmas party my first night back.  And ever since then, it’s been Christmas decorations and baking and general cleaning up of the house because my whole family is coming HERE for Christmas this year.

I’m mildly freaking out.  Totally excited, don’t get me wrong… but whoa.

So that’s why I’ve been scarce.  Life is crazy.  Work is insane.  I’ve lost a little bit of control, but I know solace waits for me in January.  I’ll just enjoy this season while I can.

What do you do to prepare your house for Christmas?

The reasons are compound and varied, but the fact of the matter is that I haven’t done anything productive for myself as a musician since July, and even that was just sitting down to write a song.

My BFFL (Best Friend From Life) moved in with us a month or so ago.  She moved from our hometown with her camera and a dream, much like I did three years ago with my piano and notebook.  But a month in, and I feel like she’s already doing bigger things for herself than I ever have.

I didn’t want to ruin what I loved with business, because business is something I have always despised.  I also didn’t want to find myself using people for what they could offer me in terms of business rather than in terms of friendship, scared of being anything but genuine, myself.  So I never really dove in.

But it turns out I’ve ruined what I loved anyway.  I’ve wrapped myself up in a job I don’t particularly care for in a house that keeps me anything but secluded and able to concentrate, with other hobbies and interests and obligations that take up too much of my time.

I was at a used media store the other day… books, video games, movies…

I found two books full of country music from the 90s and I picked them up.  I asked as I walked away with them, “Is this just a waste of money?”

No, because I’ve been playing my piano almost nightly for the first time since probably June.

Little things and baby steps.  Let’s take this dream out of the freezer and move it to the back burner, at very least. Yes?

When I moved in with my new roomie in July, it was understood that her dog may come to stay with us now and then (he technically lives with her parents on the other side of the state).  I was apprehensive about it because believe it or not, my family has never had pets.  Except fish.  One time my dad put the wrong fish together in the tank and one ate the other one.  It was sort of awesome.  But nothing that could run around the house and shed and jump on you and scratch and be all around a big ball of its own energy.

This guy has been with us for a few weeks now, and I could totally do without the hair.  It’s in my room!  How?!  The dog is NEVER in my room!  But other than that, I totally love him.

Not sure how long he’s staying but… I’m fine with him for now.  He’s kind of nice, I guess.

Have a party.  It’ll seem stressful until everyone arrives and bonfires and flip cup ensure.  Before you know it, it will be 3 am and everyone will want to go to the bar down the street and you’ll respectfully decline because the cookies aren’t gone yet and your bed is waiting for you.

You can then proceed to sleep, minus and hour or two, until 6 pm the next day.

After that, you get yourself out of bed and back to work.  You go back to life.  But you insist on taking care of yourself.  Drinking water.  Playing piano.  Doing what you want to do.  Life changes but once the transition is through, it’s okay to go back to the things that make you you.

And maybe you can find one of these too, because these are awesome.

I named her Priscilla – Prissy for short.  I don’t know why… because I’m into naming my things lately, I guess.

Everything.

It’s so much to be thankful for.  This is everything I knew would be good for me, would be wonderful about living in the city, so much closer to all of my friends and the things I always wished I could just run out and do but couldn’t.

But it’s also turning out not to be so good for me all at the same time.

I’m sure it’s just an adjustment period.  I’m sure I just need to take a break and spend some time alone and give my head a rest.

The problem is I keep trying to but I haven’t succeeded.

I’m burning out.  I’m burning out fast and I don’t know what to do about it.

If I’m not careful about how I blow dry and when I apply product, sometimes I end up looking like a red-headed Justin Bieber.

Only he looks way better in ladies’ skinny jeans than I do.  Dang.