These Pieces

You jumped.

Eyes open. Heart willing. Ready.

Then you crashed.

And felt. For the first time. The confusion, awareness, doubt, disappointment, sadness, and fear. It crushed you, but this time you let it. And with it came clarity.

This is how you move on and let go. It doesn't have to feel good, it just has to feel.

"It's time to get back on the horse." you heard the voice say. The same voice that said, "I see you." It hasn't known you long, but it knows you well. And you believe it because it does.

See you.

And so, you stand where you are. With feelings unresolved, but not unconquerable.

Eyes open. Heart willing. Still ready.

And you jump.

"Arrange whatever pieces come your way."
Virginia Woolf

Dear Dee,

It's been six years since we last saw your face.

We're thirtysomethings now. Each of us older than you lived to be. We're happy. We're married and single. We've gone natural, we eat healthier, we excercise. Some of us have moved away. Some of us have moved back home. We have new jobs or more responsibility. We travel. We've settled down. We take calculated risks. We still look like those girls who hung out on the yard but, save for having more time with you, we wouldn't trade places with them. We're still playful, just wiser.

Our years are passing faster than we'd like. Our hair is turning gray. The babies you knew are now big kids, and there are additions that you never got to meet.

We can still party with the best of them. We laugh, we dance, we sing. When Sorors start to stroll, we jump in the line. Staying out all night is still fun, but it now happens once or twice a year instead of once or twice a week. We don't recover like we used to, and we're okay with that.

It feels different this year, Dee. Maybe it's because it falls on a Tuesday for the first time since That Tuesday that changed our lives; or maybe it's because the bond you had with each of us ensures that your presence will never fade.

We miss you.

All our love.

Have a Little Faith in Me, Says She

"One cannot spend forever sitting and solving the mysteries of one's history." ~ Lemony Snicket
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There was a moment that day when the shaking hands were gripping the sink, the heart was pounding and the breathing was labored; that the wide open eyes were forced to meet themselves in the mirror.

For the first time in 66 days. 

me: "Who are you?"
her: "I was wondering the same thing."
me: "A year ago today I landed in my new life. A year later I'm back at the old one?"
her: "With a whole lot of stuff in between."
me: "Epic understatement."
her: "You haven't unpacked, but it doesn't make it any less true."
me: "I can still smell there in those clothes. I can hear it and see it. I can still feel what I felt. I need all of that to leave my memory first."
her: "You wait on that, okay?"
me: "I can't breathe."
her: "You're breathing."
me: "How?"
her: "You just are."
me: "Maybe I'll quit."
her: "Who says you have a choice? A lot of people see your strength."
me: "F*ck them. They see what they want to see."
her: "Or what you can't."
me: "I hate you."
her: "You are me."
me: "I just need to fast forward 5 years so I don't have to live in this."
her: "Welcome to reality where that isn't an option."
me: "It stings."
her: "Like a million bees sometimes... I feel it too."
me: "I can feel it pressing on the top of my head, driving me into the ground. It makes my knees numb."
her: "Change your stance."
me: "Sometimes I don't even know where I am."
her: "Well, right now you're in your bathroom. In your house. Just upstairs from the desk where you work the job that you found 48 hours after you lost the one you kind of loved. And right outside is the car you can still pay for that takes you to the studio where you can dance and to the store where you can afford to buy the food you like."
me: "Blessings."
her: "In the midst of this storm."
me: "Touche."
her: "Checkmate."
me: "I feel like I failed it."
her: "You fought the hell out of it."
me: "I don't know where to begin to find myself again."
her: "You don't have to. Take the gloves off. Be still. Work. Pray. Listen. I'll be here to welcome you back when you're ready. Have a little faith."
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"I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am." ~ Sylvia Plath

Day 62: It Was a Tuesday.

"He killed her."

When time stands still,

You can't hear.
Because the words you just heard are too big to let any other sound in.

You can't see.
Because light is suddenly too bright, and causes everything to fragment and pixilate.

You can't speak.
Because when your heart shatters, all the pieces land in your throat.

When time moves again,

You find yourself sitting in a chair in the middle of a hallway, your body folded in half, arms wrapped around the back of your knees, rocking back and forth. And a refrain of "in, out" plays in your head as your body reminds itself to breathe.

You think of the last conversation, of what she'd shared with you only two days before, how she'd called and insisted that you get dressed and come out, how she'd made everyone dance, how tightly she'd hugged you.

The story plays in your head and you tremble at the thought of how scared she had to have been. And how brave.

You walk, in a desparate attempt to keep reality from catching you. You walk as you talk to friends, each of you repeating a story over and over again. A group of words that don't belong together. A story that will never make sense. 

Five years later,

The feelings live just beneath the surface.

You don't take time or people for granted.

You can still feel the cling of arms that knew they were hugging you for the last time.

You can still hear her voice and how she used to fuss at all of you for not keeping up with each other. And it makes you grin.

You remember how you sat in a courtroom staring at the back of his head without blinking, the ringing in your ears as you listened to the guilty verdict being read, and the feeling of despair as you turned your head towards the courtroom door and stared until your heart realized she wasn't going to walk in.

You have learned that time won't heal the hole in your heart.

Her home and cell numbers are still in your phone. You can never again call them, nor is deleting them an option.

You still wish you had turned around that night and told her you loved her.

You remember that day five years ago when you answered your phone and heard your Soror, her best friend, say,

"He killed her."

It was a Tuesday.

Day 54: The Cycle

I wish I was home.

I'm grateful to be here.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Day 52: HEARD. Vol. 3

The people quoted below have two things in common, they're all adults and they're all people I've come in contact with over the past several months. With the exception of one title, their identities were not recorded and will not be revealed.

There are times in this whirlwind adventure when the dust settles.

It was during those times that I listened.

This is what I heard.

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"I love daydrinking."

"It was like someone transported us to London, England on the most boring day of the year."

"Q-R-S. I know my alphabet. You can't confuse me."

"Toaster ovens are like, the best thing ever."

"How do you spell impactful?"
"I-m-p-a-c-t-f-u-l. But it's not really a word."
"Impactful? It's not?"
"Nope."
"How about thrilling?"

Me: "Will you write my check please?"
My Boss: "Sure. Your last name is Shaw, right?"

"Those dresses look like cheap witches at Burning Man, I got my costume at Rite Aid."

"We made out and I was so excited because it was just what I wanted!"

"And I was like, "Hey!" 'cause I'm like, you know, friendly."

"When you say cash only does that mean I can only pay with cash?"

"Pork is a dessert meat."

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Kilah: "I may not understand the people in my new reality, but I am grateful for them. And thoroughly amused."

Day 50: Daughter of a Man.

Though I am his daughter, I am not a Daddy's Girl.

My sister and I were raised by our Mom. She loved, taught, sang, laughed, chauffered, fed, hugged, worried, rejoiced, disciplined, bought, made... She parented.

And though I am sure my Father caused her endless frustration, she did not allow his daughters to hate him.

"You shouldn't speak to your Dad that way. He loves you."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes. Because he helped me make you."

As adults, my sister and I made the decision to have a relationship with him. We have learned to enjoy the time we have with him inspite of his sporadic presence during our childhood. He is an intelligent quirky man. He was a French professor for over 30 years, he ran a bartending school and owned a cleaning service. He was not one to show much emotion, but was generous with his praise. He is an excellent cook, an avid vegetable gardener, and, in his retirement, he has mastered the game of pool.

Our infrequent childhood conversations and visits with him were filled with the following mantras:

Him: "Who are the prettiest girls in the world?"
Us: "Kilah and Nza."
Him: "That's right!"

Us: "We won..., made..., achieved.... etc...."
Him: "That's great Kilah Wilah/Nza Pinza. Makes my toes tingle!"

I carry his dark skin, his wiry hair, his slanted handwriting, a few of his mannerisms and his mother's maiden name.

It was with him that I ate my first (and last) raw egg, learned to pickle cucumbers (a process which I have long since forgotten), got my first taste of the French language he adores, and learned my first reggae dance steps. He is frugal, into healthy lifestyles and cares little about material goods. He loves music, languages and African sculpture. In his own way, he also loves his daughters. He speaks deliberately and does not waiver once a decision has been made. He is not easily affected.

And now he is sick.

I learned of his diagnosis a few days before I left and last week's surgery two days before it occured. He waited until the last minute to tell me of his diagnosis and surgery on purpose.

Him: "I've just come in from the garden so I wanted to call and let you know that my surgery is the day after tomorrow."
Me: "Why didn't you tell me before? I might have been able to be there. And why are you in the garden this late at night?"
Him: "That's why I didn't tell you. And I had to get my collards in the ground."

He then went on to explain, in explicit detail, the information concerning his prognosis. In the months between his diagnosis and his surgery, he had researched, compared and questioned. He educated himself on every possible facet of his illness, treatment options, side effects and longevity.

As I listened to him detail everything from the growth pattern of his tumor to the place where the initial incision would be made, I realized that my Dad had armed himself with a plethora of information because he is scared. Part of his defense is knowing the twists and turns of his disease before he reaches them. He is not a fan of surprises.

His daughter shares that trait with him.

He is back home now, healing, resting and awaiting more tests and treatment. He is being well cared for. I spoke with him briefly and he explained his goal of eating more solid foods before he faded. For the first time my tall, lean, stoic Father sounded old.

And his daughter was not prepared.

Day 45: Lost and Found

I had an interesting weekend, but I can't quite get my ego in check enough to write it with the truth it requires. I'm working on that. In the meantime, I'll tell you about crazy cool today.

My Tuesday started with a hike. My friend A and I had been talking about hiking together for awhile. He has lived in L.A. his whole life but has never been. He said he wanted to do a 'real' hike, so I took him to my favorite Vermont Canyon instead of Runyon which can seem more like a steep walk.

Vermont Cyn is a Griffith Park trail that takes you to one of the peaks next to the Hollywood sign. It is a 2 hour hike that offers a 360 degree view of L.A., including the ocean, catalina island and Forest Lawn cemetary in Glendale where MJ is buried. Not to mention endless mountain ranges. The views along the trail and from the peak are breathtaking.

The price you pay to have your breath taken away is a series of super steep climbs along the ridge line of a couple of way too high mountains. There are times during that hike where I have actually considered calling search and rescue to demand an explanation of "What in the hell I was thinking when I decided to do this today" followed by a request to "Come get me off the side of this mountain!". The rush is addictive though, and I find myself hiking it with Kasey at least once a week.

A and I set out at about 830 this morning and made to the peak around 930. He enjoyed it, but admitted that there were times when all he could think of was "a way out.". The climb down which takes you by the Hollywood sign takes a solid hour. It is pretty easy and allows for great conversation.

On the last leg of the descent, I reached into my pocket to make sure I had all of my things:

Phone - check
Keys, which I carry to scare away rattlesnakes - check
Drivers License, which I carry in case I have an unfortunate encounter with a moutain lion or a coyote - MISSING

In a split second I felt my airways constrict, my stomach churn and my knees lock, all of which I masked behind bulging eyeballs and a gaping mouth.

It was hot, we were almost to the car and our legs felt like jelly, but we turned around and hiked back up with our eyes glued to the ground.

me:"A, I owe you my first born."
him: "I'd rather have a smoothie."

Half an hour back into our re-climb I called it and full on panic set in as I realized that my perfectly good, nowhere near expired, matches the tag on my car and insurance in my glove compartment, license was gone. I couldn't drive without a license! How was I going to convince the DMV to give me a CA license when everything about my car is GA?! How would I get a new tag?! California insurance?! I'm not even sure I want to live here that long!

I stopped my pleading prayer long enough to explain my plight to a police officer and a park ranger. They were both very sympathetic, giving me cards and phone numbers to call, but held out little hope.

Soft spoken, laid back, California calm A explained that it wasn't a big deal and then treated me to a smoothie.

Later on at the studio, I sat researching CA licenses, tags and insurance. I made my appointment at the DMV and laughed out loud at the realization that I would have to take a driving test. I then worked myself into a hot flash at the realization that the completion of these steps would mean that I would be in California for awhile. I am not quite comfortable with that thought yet.

I took a class to calm my nerves and then ran to the office to check Facebook like the good little addict I have become. Imagine my surprise when I saw the following in my inbox:

"Hi, my name is Stephen and I found your license in Vermont Cyn today."

Hi Stephen.

He went on to explain where he lived (about 3 minutes from my front door) and gave his phone number. We made arrangements for me to pick it up from a hiding place on his front porch.

God is good.

And I'm buying a fanny pack.

Day 38: Free

I remembered today a time in my life that seems like a lifetime ago. While my teammates were and are some of the best people I've ever known, I was doing a job that had me so stressed that my body was trembling 24 hours a day and my hair was falling out. I felt strangled by the regulations that controlled my wardrobe, schedule and how often I answered the phone or responded to an email. I hated the fear that formed a knot in my stomach on the elevator not knowing what my inbox would look like on any given day or what new report I wasn't measuring up to. I cried on the way to work and on the way home.

I would sit at my desk or go to an empty office and stare out at the Atlanta skyline wondering why I wasn't doing something I enjoyed. Why wasn't I in some studio building sets or dancing or putting finishing touches on costumes or painting, gluing, nailing, taping...?

Today I spent the day at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art working on my boss' residency debut. I crawled around the floor in mismatched clothes helping to build 50 ft walls and an 18 foot divider. I cut, punched holes, reinforced, and tied together. I witnessed a space being transformed. I planned for the studio. I rehearsed and then watched my boss sew costumes in his hilltop house.

Tomorrow I'll be laying carpet on asphalt, re-tying, cutting, taping, dancing, running lights and celebrating.

I am tired.

I am covered from head to toe in fiberglass and itching like mad.

I am rejoicing at the realization of the answer to a whispered prayer.

I am free.

Day 36: Life Stuff

I'm sitting here on my bed at half past midnight. My belly is full of steak and on-sale-for-$1 Haagen-Dazs raspberry sorbet, and my Pandora Debbie Gibson channel is rocking.

Reflections on this whimsical day:

-Woke up, got dressed for my hike and walked out into a wonderful cold Fall rain that would last all day.

-Went to flush the toilet only to realize that we had run out of water. Funny how a logical brain will subscribe to the belief that jiggling a handle will miraculously make water flow through pipes.

-Let six eggs explode because I put them on to boil and forgot about them. What happens to your brain after 30?

-Sat at work for an hour before I realized the roof was leaking a lake of water onto the studio floor.

-Mopped up the roof leak and then accidentally dumped the water back onto the studio floor, TWICE.

-Tripped over my own feet and fell into a closet and onto the studio's water heater, tearing the grill off the front. Still haven't figured out how to tell the boss about that...

-Met Sam Sparro, took his money, showed him how to use the studio sound system and smelled his bag without realizing he's the 'Black and Gold' singer.

-Took a great class from Ryan who is somehow managing to teach while choreographing and orchestrating his first of three shows for MOCA (L.A. Museum of Contemporary Art). He is injured and sleep deprived and still getting it in.

I loved this day.

I've also been sifting through this new feeling I've named Connected Disconnectedness.

I don't feel a connection to future, but I absolutely care about what's happening right now. I used to say things like, "Next year we'll do...." and "Next Summer let's try...", but I don't do that very often anymore, and when I do, it feels like the part of me that would normally mean it, steps out of the part that's speaking the words. I'm going through the motions but the sincerity isn't there.

Is living in the moment the same as feeling no connection to what might be?

I'd love to know what you think.

Funny and fascinating, this Life Stuff.

Day 34: Seven Months

Seven Months In And...

Faces are familiar.
Greetings are warmer.
Friendships are forming.

I've found a salon and stylist I love.
I can parallel park without hyperventilating.
My ears no longer pop when I'm driving up and down hills.
Gas prices no longer make my knees buckle.

People call me by name.
Plans are beginning to include me.
Conversations are easier.

I am finding peace.
My walls are wavering.
I am beginning to understand.

My concentration is shifting from what I'm missing, to what I'm experiencing.

There is predictability.

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One of the things I find fascinating about this place is how time passes. It's only been seven months, but each day feels like it holds the experiences of several different lives. I was standing on a mountaintop this morning, and at Target this afternoon. Tomorrow I'll be working at the studio all day, but standing on the boardwalk overlooking the beach at night.

The breadth of each day exceeds everything I've ever known and therefore, at times, I find it too much to comprehend. Sometimes when I look back on the day it's as if someone else has lived it. It's a strange out-of-body like emotion that is intoxicating. And one that I'm still trying to find a place for.

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Seven Months In And....

I still find new experiences refreshing.
I still gasp at the view from the top of the mountains.
I am still in awe of the Hollywood sign.

I still get lost.
The weather still confuses me.
I still have experiences that leave me happily asking myself, "Did that just happen?"

Seven months in and I am still humbled by and so grateful for the blessings on this path.

May it always be this way.

Day 30: Purpose.

I took a three day blogging break.

During those three days I filmed a youtube parody music video, hiked Vermont Canyon, enjoyed my first L.A. girls night, ate Chipotle for the first time, caught a cold and lived through the hottest day in L.A. since the 1800s with temps reaching 112 degrees.

I also questioned my purpose.

The question came 3 days ago as I sat at work chewing on recent events. I worked myself into a state of ultimate confusion, stood up and began my pacing back and forth, hands flailing, voice squeaking, end of my wits prayer.

"Lord, what am I doing here? Is this what it's supposed to be? Me here? Really? Why?! I'm not like most of these people. I don't have anything in common with any of them! I don't understand their world! Do I even want to? NO! Not really! I hear conflicting information, I don't know who to trust, I question motives of some and feelings of others. People say things they don't mean and think things they don't say. I'm told stuff about what others think even if they don't actually think it. And You expect me to grow?! In THIS?! Was this move a mistake? Because it sure sometimes feels like it! How do I feel so at home in a place where I see things I never believe existed? Am I ever going to get it?"

Then I exhaled and shook my head at my absurdity.

My friend B has been telling me for nearly three years to live in the moment. To see what's right in front of me and deal with only that, because it is the only thing that matters. And he's right. I tend to get so caught up in what may be that I spend my moments frivolously and, in doing so, color the future in ways that may never have been intended.

So in thanksgiving for the current moments I've been blessed with, I am grateful for:

Long lunches with T.
Warm hugs, smiles and kind words from S.
Belly laughs and pizza, wine & hair parties with M.
Silliness with MK.
A's ear.
R's answers.
Roses from M.
Cookies from A.
Hikes with K.

What a lucky Girl I am to be able to experience the kind of goodness that sustains me as phase after phase of this purpose is revealed.

"Lord, thank you for this journey."

"And I wouldn't change a thing. I'd walk right back through the rain, back to every broken heart on the day that it was breaking. And I'd relive all the years and be thankful for the tears I've cried with every stumbled step that lead to you, and got me Here." -- Jeffrey Steele & Steve Robson

Day 28: Sur-Reality

Today I worked at the studio. I made copies of schedules, checked in students, traded ideas with K, and trained a front desk worker.

Tonight I had my first 'Hollywood' experience as a participant in a flashmob at a benefit for Livestrong.

The benefit was held at Smashbox in West Hollywood. Smashbox is a warehouse space and tonight it housed a silent auction, open bars, tons of food, cupcakes, cameras and pretty skinny people.

After my identity was verified against The List, I entered the outside area and couldn't believe my eyes. To my right there were photographers from every major tabloid in the grocery store checkout line with cameras poised. My presence, of course, was a colossal disappointment.

On my left was a Fatburger truck serving fresh burgers. I stood still for few seconds to take in the smell, and the part of my heart that has rediscovered it's adoration of all things meat skipped a beat. I was then apologized to by one of the event workers, seemingly because she crossed my path at a distance of less than three feet.

I was perplexed but I moved on to the open bar to order my triple sec white grape martini margarita from a bartender who looked like he was carved out of a block of perfection and spoke with an accent.

Once I entered the warehouse, I looked around and felt ashamed that I'd forgotten to check 70lbs of my body weight at the door, until I saw the tables of cupcakes and nearly fainted with delight.

I walked around for a bit, admired the cool art, smiled at unfamiliar faces and passed waiters with trays of cheese topped roasted endive and quartered peaches wrapped in prosciutto on my way to the green room where my fellow flashmobbers were drinking, eating pretzels, running choreography and watching a rerun of 'My Wife and Kids'.

I love dancers.

As we planted ourselves in the crowd before we danced, my friend D pointed out that I was standing next to Michael Buble which resulted in an immediate change of position due to sensory overload.

Midway through our mob I looked to my left and into Reese Witherspoon's face. She was smiling and clapping and shouted, "I want to dance with you guys!", so at the end when we wanted audience participation, I invited her out and she and her friends danced with us for a little while.

After the mob cleared, I thanked her and her friends for participating which resulted in a conversation about when we'd learned the piece, who we were, who our choreographer was and where we danced.

Ten minutes later I was double fisting my cupcake and Fatburger on my walk to the car.

Surreal.

Day 27: Age

My little sister turns 30 today. When did that happen? She's supposed to be 7.

When did she age?

Tonight I danced for 3.5 hours. I took a class and then rehearsed for a flashmob. It's for a benefit for Livestrong and should be fun. I was watching the kids who are doing the first piece and marveling at the fact that I now refer to early twentysomethings as 'kids' because I no longer remember being one, and that they have boundless energy with seemingly no pain while I, during the last run through, could feel every fiber of every muscle tightening and locking itself into a position that will force me to limp around for the next few days.

When did I age?

I'm home now and have just finished eating a dinner of two boiled eggs and two rice cakes. I'm not on a diet, it was just already prepared. I am quite hungry. But the thought of the amount of energy it would take to walk to the kitchen, open the freezer and apply heat to my vast array of frozen food causes a furrow in the once smooth skin between my eyebrows.

The decision has been made then to use my remaining energy to shower. But, as I sit here with my legs crossed I am fully aware that my hips have solidified in their position. My legs will require my arms' assistance to unfold them and, thanks to my cemented hip joints, my feet will be facing due east and west as I hobble to the bathroom.

I love my...
I can't believe my...
I am feeling my...
Am I really my...

Age.

Day 25: The Puzzle

Three people in the last three days have asked me what I want to be and/or do, and I don't know how to answer them.

For the first time in my life I am not living in the future. I have no idea what this time next year will look like or where I will be. Is that smart? I dont know, but I believe that there is a reason for this feeling. The not knowing seems to makes sense.

I had lunch with a wonderful new friend today. I'm beginning to connect with people and that feels really good.

I'm still figuring out my place in this city, but I am okay with who I am again, and can be myself without feeling apologetic and deficient. I am on a path that will have many avenues and cross with things I don't understand, and that is good. I feel stronger now. I can walk this path, meet these people, have these experiences and take parts of all of it to add to Life's puzzle. Crazy beautiful mangled perfection this Life. And I am grateful to live it.

I am confident.
I am insecure.
I am brave.
I am a coward.
I am calm.
I am in awe.
I am fearless.
I am scared.

I am ready. And I have never felt more alive.

Day 24: Today

Today there was work, lots of spreadsheets, new ideas and a date on a mountain.

Details tomorrow.

Day 23: Saturday

It's late/early and I am that wonderful kind of tired that comes from having a fantastic day.

Had a hike in the fog this morning, got all my laundry done and spent the evening playing beauty shop with a friend who wanted his hair done.

Feeling my way into my groove.

And tomorrow I have a date.

Stay tuned.

Day 22: Panic Attacks and Apple Pie

me: "I'm not breathing out enough!"
"That's because your shoulders are on your earlobes."
me: "What if I hyperventilate?!"
"You won't. Just stand up and breathe."
me: "Oh."

I'm a bit of a perfectionist and so the fact that I won't be at the studio on our first Saturday of classes tomorrow is making me nuts. The fact that I'm leaving it in the hands of two people who have never worked there before is testing my breathing reflex.

Saturday is my only day off and I feel guilty.

I love it.

I love that I have a job at a place that I care so much about.
I love that one of my seasoned people volunteered to spend her day helping the new folks run the studio.
I love that even though she volunteered, I had to fight the urge to forgo my only day off to be there.
I love that I'm still fighting it.
I love that as frustrated and stressed as I sometimes feel, I am happy that this is the place I get to go everyday.

I also love that my friend K'Beetle'D convinced me to meet her at the House of Pie on the corner of Franklin and Vermont tonight for chicken wings and apple pie. Because there is nothin' about a panic attack that a l'il sugar can't fix. 

Sweet.

Day 21: To Sum it Up

Thankful that payroll is done.

Adoring the beautiful weather.

Looking forward to my day off on Saturday.

Missing familiarity.

Wishing this was easier.

Appreciative but unsure.

Day 20: Pieces of Ki

I feel like I should do something special in honor of my 20th blogging day, but I can't think of anything spectacular so I think I'll do a list.

Here are 20 pieces of Ki:

1. I have severe astigmatism in both eyes.

2. After living out of suitcases for five months, I can no longer stand the sight of folded clothes. Every stitch of clothing I own is on a hanger.

3. I find tremendous comfort in sitcoms from the 60's, 70's and 80's. I own the first season of Maude and can quote every episode verbatim. I also love Mary Tyler Moore, Rhoda, Diff'rent Strokes, Punky Brewster, Silver Spoons, Small Wonder etc... Watching these shows is like wrapping myself in a warm blanket.

4. I have most of the theme songs from my favorite sitcoms downloaded in my iPod. Out of all of them, Mr. Belvedere, Alice and Gimme a Break are the ones that make me deliciously happy.

5.I find bath taking torturous. I will be a shower taker until the day I die.

6. I want to name my first baby November.

7. I can't bring myself to drive above the speed limit.

8. Kilah May is a nickname that has been given to me by various people at various times in my life, which I find intriguing. My real middle name is Swann.

9. One of my greatest fears is that people will be disappointed in me.

10. I am absolutely addicted to all things sugar.

11. My Mom was an avid tennis player and much of my childhood weekends were spent in tennis clubs all over Atlanta.

12. My love of meat prevents me from being a good vegetarian.

13. I don't believe in camping.

14. I know how to shoot a gun, but I don't think I'll ever own one.

15. I adored my Granddaddy. To me he was absolute perfection.

16. I eat chitlins. And I like them.

17. I have never gotten a massage because I'm afraid of them.

18. Driving across the country was the best thing I never want to do again.

19. Cream of Wheat is my all-time favorite breakfast food.

20. My Mama almost named me Sturgis.