How Great Thou Art

One of my daily routines is to turn on the news as soon as I wake up and watch for 10-15 minutes before getting out of bed to let Hank outside.  Just enough time to catch the weather, traffic and learn about the homicides, suicides, drunk driving accidents, burglaries, rapes, and fires that occurred the night before.  Oh, and let us not forget about the tanking economy, war on terrorism, immigration reform and gun control! 

It finally dawned on me that waking up to all this negative news is probably not the way to start each morning.  I remembered a YouTube video I saw more than a year ago that blew my mind.  It's Carrie Underwood and Vince Gill's duet performance of "How Great Thou Art" at an event honoring the women of country music in 2011.  Since last week, I've been starting each morning by grabbing my phone and watching this performance. 

The video went viral and millions of people have seen it.  If you haven't watched it, please take 5 minutes out of your day and treat yourself to this greatness.  I guarantee you will get the gooseys.  You do not have to be a fan of country music to be moved.  And if you have seen it, watch it again.  Of course, it doesn't hurt that Carrie looks AMAZEBALLS!  Seriously, she has legs that go on forever and a rear end that you could bounce a quarter off of...but, she's no girlfriend of A.J. McCarron!  Ha. 

I do find that playing this 5 minute video each morning before turning on the tube to hear all the negativity has really helped me jump start my day in a much more positive way.  Of course, the prozac helps, too.

This is my life.  And I blame me.

Tigers and Elephants, Oh My

Well, I did say this was the year I was going to try to break bad habits and try new things.  Last night, I may have gone too far.  Watch out for flying pork.  Check the stables for unicorns.  And somebody get OBL a jacket because it must be awfully chilly in hell right now.  I dressed up in hounds tooth and crimson and attended the Alabama/Notre Dame watch party with the entire BAMA alumni association of Houston.  (For those of you not from Louisiana and not LSU fans, even the thought of cheering for the Crimson Tide is reason for death by lethal injection in Tiger Stadium.)

Allow me to explain myself.  It became clear that LSU would not have the opportunity to attend the BCS national championship game the night Alabama crushed Auburn sending them to the SEC title game, and ultimately last night’s gridiron battle.  I mourned for a few days and then took the attitude that I would support the SEC team in the national title game.  A stronger SEC conference can only better LSU.  I was sick of sports announcers mocking the SEC after a less than desirable bowl season.  Bottom line is the SEC is the toughest conference in the country.  I wanted another national title to prove that point.  Last night’s glass football makes seven in a row.  So, that’s my argument for pulling for the Tide.  Yes, I’m a Catholic.  I have many friends who are Irish alumni.  And Rudy is my favorite sports movie of all time.  But as my sister put it, “God forgives.  Saban doesn’t.” 

Now…as far as dressing up in hounds tooth and crimson…that was less planned.  My dear friend Amanda has been dating a really great guy for more than a year now.  He just so happens to be the President of the Houston chapter of the Alabama alumni association.  She has purple and gold blood that runs through and through as well, but she goes to the BAMA events for him (unless LSU is playing).  She’s a good woman.  I walked into this already established BAMA alumni watering hole not quite sure what to expect.  These were not my people.  It looked like an elephant had exploded in the room.  Wall to wall crimson, white and gray.  I was overwhelmed.  I just kept singing the LSU fight song over and over…in my head, of course.  I had a glass of wine to loosen up.  I went with a chardonnay rather than a white zin.  I didn’t want to give this crowd the impression that Tigers are less than classy.  I had a fantastic time catching up with my dear friend who I hadn’t seen since the New Year began.  It was really nice to see my fellow Tiger support Brian (her boyfriend), who, by the way, was super sweet to me as always and seemed genuinely appreciative of my efforts to support his team.  But I think he smelled the fake on me.  I clapped for the Tide.  I cheered for the Tide.  I drank for the Tide.  And I Ionged for Death Valley.

I did leave before the game ended to get back home at a reasonable hour.  I heard the final seconds on the radio and smiled for the SEC win.  Then I immediately took the crimson cardigan off my back and ripped off my hounds tooth jacket.  It was suffocating, really.

This morning I woke up.  The national championship remains in the SEC and I detest Alabama.  Life is just as it should be.

Not too thrilled about this get up.

Me and Amanda supporting the SEC (and Brian).

Keeping our Tiger roots alive with a little purple and gold bling.

This is my life.  And I blame me.

Stairway to Heaven

I've decided that 2013 is the year of breaking bad habits.  One of my habits is entering a building and immediately searching for the nearest elevator or escalator.  Basically, I look for any method of getting to the upper floors that will allow me to exert the LEAST amount of energy possible.  Like, I don't even consider taking the stairs.  Ever.  As an aside, I'm also that person who drives around the parking lot at the grocery store for 15 minutes just so I can get the closest spot possible to the building. 

When I returned to work Wednesday, I was faced with a choice:

Choice #1:  The nice glass elevator that I take everyday.  It has a lovely view of the grassy knoll outside the office.  It's always nice and cool with the obligatory elevator music in the background.  It even has a little TV that tells the time and temp and a ticker with the "news of the day."  For instance, just the other week I learned that Boyz II Men will be playing nightly at Treasure Island in Las Vegas beginning March 1st.  I mean, can you imagine if I had missed out on that piece of extremely valuable information!?!?

Choice #2:  The gross stairwell.

I put my head down and broke the bad habit.  I entered the stairwell.  Mind you, I had on my coat, scarf and gloves.  I was carrying my extremely heavy briefcase with my laptop on one shoulder and my very "large and in charge" Mary Poppins bag that I call a purse on the other shoulder.  I was out of breath after the first two steps.  The entire trek up, I'm praying that nobody else enters the stairwell because at this point I'm holding on to both railings to pull my body up the stairs.  I get halfway up the first flight and I see this sign...

I whipped out my phone to snap this picture.  Needless to say, I did not need the reminder!  Plus, it allowed me a few seconds to catch my breath.

So...I finally reach my floor.  And then there is that awkward moment.  That moment when you open the door PRAYING there is nobody on the other side.  Because at this point, I'm so out of breath there is NO WAY that I would've been able to mutter a greeting much less crack a smile.  Luckily, there nobody on the other side.  Had there been, I'm sure they would've immediately dialed 911 because I was sweating profusely, holding my heart and gasping for air.  It was not a pretty site.  Oh, did I mention I work on the 2nd floor?  Yeah...we're not talking about a Stairway to Heaven.  We're talking about a stairway up one flight of stairs. 

I had to giggle at myself, though.  As I was leaving the office at the end of the day, I was talking on my cell phone and completely distracted.  Out of habit, I got on the elevator to go DOWN...one flight of stairs...after the whole dramatic scene going UP the stairs...I forget to take the stairs DOWN.  I guess old habits die hard.

This is my life.  And I blame me.

Let me clear my throat...

First of all, I'm completely overwhelmed by the amount of people that actually do give a flying leap about what I say.  If you know me at all, then you know I'm an extremely co-dependent person, so thanks for feeding my need to be loved/wanted/needed!  It has actually prompted me to take pause and make a few clarifications based on yesterday's post.

#1:  I LOVE this country.  There is nowhere else on the globe that I would rather live.  I do, however, think our political leaders (all parties included) in Washington are currently misguided and have lost sight of our country's core principles and values.  As you may know, I am extremely passionate about politics and so my views and opinions will probably pop up often in my daily journal.  I just didn't want anyone to think that I was in ANYWAY bashing this great country based on yesterday's post.  Geaux America!  Or, in the words of my buddy GWB, "Geaux 'murica!"

#2:  I am an extremely blessed woman.  I have a wonderful family and an amazing group of friends.  God has given me a brain, a heart and a body that is able to get up and go to work each morning.  I have a roof over my head and food on my table (albeit sometimes TOO much food).  I was afforded the opportunity to attend the BEST State University in all of the land--and by "best" I don't necessarily mean the most prestigious, but definitely the most fun!  I am grateful for all that God has given me and I don't want to come off as flippant about these blessings.  It's just therapeutic for me to make light of some of my daily struggles, which in comparison to many, are miniscule.  I recognize that and will continue to do so.

#3:  I love myself.  I can be self-deprecating at times, but I promise...I think I'm awesome.  In fact, just call my sister...she'll tell you how awesome I think I am.  I just think it's funnier to write about peccadilloes rather than awesomeness.  So when I say, "This is my life.  And I blame me," I'm just talking about taking personal responsibility for who I am...the good...the bad...and the really bad!  I thank God everyday for the person he made and I pray he'll guide me to be the best I can be.  This blog is just the story of that journey.

So...I know I don't need to explain myself as I just did above because this is MY journal.  But, as I mentioned, I was surprised by the number of folks paying attention and I just wanted to make a few points for those of you who may not know me "in real life."

If you have not noticed, I love to use quotation marks (aka "air quotes") and parenthesis.  I'm sure English teachers across America would cringe while reading these posts.  ("Get over it.")

As for today's title...I wrote this post while sitting in the doctor's office this morning.  And what song comes to mind while sitting in a waiting room full of sick people coughing up their lungs?  This little number! 

Enjoy!  (And for any of you who went to high school in the 90's, I DARE you not to sing along!)

This is my life.  And I blame me.  

I am pissed off.

Nothing like a fiscal cliff to get a girl in the mood to (re) start a blog.  The headlines this morning might lead one to believe that Congress and the President acted just in time to keep our country from pummeling over a "fiscal" cliff, but I woke up and my entire body feels like it took a good tumble.  Cover your ears (and eyes), mom.  I'm one pissed off motha effa.  I don't know who the President and this Congress think they are, but they clearly have not met me.  It has nothing to do with being a Republican or Democrat.  But is has EVERYTHING to do with being an American.  And guess what fellow Americans?  We're to blame.  We keep allowing our elected officials to get away with ludicrous behavior.  We continue to settle.  We continue to turn our cheek when slapped and say, "Gimme another."  We're to blame.  I'm to blame.  And I hate feeling the burden of blame.

This notion of the blame game actually prompted me to do something I haven't done in over two years...take to the keyboard and start blogging.  On my long drive into the office today, I decided this time it won't be JUST about trying to get healthy or JUST about blaming the President and Congress for our woes or JUST about the soccer mom who just cut me off while texting and talking on her bluetooth.  I hope this blog will be a productive method for me to air frustrations and search for answers.  I want to search for ways that I, Emily Ann Davenport, can make a change...in my life and in my neighbors' lives.

Right now, I'm not in a good place.  I'm unhealthier than I've been in a very long time.  Like many other Americans, I'm living paycheck to paycheck and trying to figure out how to save money.  I've lost touch with some dear friends.  I want to be a better daughter/granddaughter/sister/niece/Godmother.  I have so much to be thankful for and I have to start showing my gratitude.

I recognize that not one other single person may read this personal journal and that is fine with me.  I have no problem laughing at my own jokes.  I'm quite good at that.  I have no problem crying at my own struggles.  I'm damn good at that.  This journal won't be strictly political or strictly health related.  It will not always be funny.  It will not always make sense.  And it will certainly not always be grammatically correct.  It will be my outlet.  It will be where I come to talk about my problems and hopefully come up with solutions.  I will accept responsibility for the good AND bad.  This is my life.  And I blame me.