I attended my first pep rally yesterday. My first pep rally in seven years. "GOOOOO Rockets!!"
What struck me so profoundly was the fact that so little has changed. The football players rush the pre-polished gymnasium floor. They strut and stick out their chests and heaven forbid their arms actually swing or (gasp!) touch the sides of their bodies. As the captains glower about at their adoring fans, the crowd goes WILD, screaming in pure exhaltation. It's all enough to send you into a frenzy. Soon the band begins to play Zoot Zoot Riot [riot!] and I can't hold it off any longer, this feeling of suddenly being fourteen years old again, furtively glancing about, hoping to catch the eye of one particular crush of the week. I have to take a few deep breaths and steady my gaze, reminding myself that no, I am not in the throngs of high-school angst, but twenty two years old, and a teacher at that. I am calm and controlled. These escapades are for the young and the foolhearted, not someone like me: older, mature, settled.

This, of course, is a fantasy as well. I am no more settled than Christopher Columbus as he sailed his ocean blue. When was that, 1492? Punk bastard. Ugh. Ok, maybe I'm selling myself a little short.

Either way, here I am. Actually, I don't think I've mentioned that yet: I am in Blowing Rock, at my aunt's Condo. The view is absolutely breathtaking and I am soaking in as much serenity and relaxation as possible before the coming weeks. There are hummingbirds everywhere, hovering incessantly, as if torn between two worlds: the treetops and the sweet succulence of the feeders. Or perhaps they are just saying hi. I say hi back, naturally, and somehow, all feels right in the world. Is it the hummingbird? the mountains? or is it something deeper, something within myself? Or are all of these one in the same? I like to think the latter.

A Wannabee Blogger

I have always had this tiny little voice in my head telling me to embrace my narcicism head-on and start a blog. Just do it, this voice presses, incessantly reminding me how interesting my life really is. "Wouldn't it be great to share this moment via Times New Roman font and the glories of the internet??" In my fantasies I would write about my life in a witty, border-line flippant tone and people would laugh and say to themselves "oh that Candace!" in obvious admiration. In a perfect world, I would become one of those famous people who become famous simply because everyone reads their blogs, every day yearning for the next installment. What will Candace do next?? Where will she go and, perhaps even more pressing, with WHOM? People around the world would unwittingly begin to live vicariously through me and my stories of love, loss, and life.

In the end, I tell the voice to shut up and go about my day, bloggless and unfullfilled. But no more, I tell you! It ends now!

Honestly though, thank you for reading my first ever blog post. (Brian, that one goes out to you.) The reality of the matter is, my life isn't always that interesting, but I'm going to write about it anyway. The next few months are surely going to be some of the most challenging yet, and I am excited to be able to share that with you. (Note: if my monologues begin to turn into a blubbering mess of explitives and incomprehensible sentence fragments, I apologize. You are forewarned.)

For the sake of documentation, here is a picture of brian and me, at the drip (surprise surprise) at the very moment of my first blog submission. A moment of silence please.