Alicia l'Américaine

Wonder

"Our past was here, but our future was somewhere else, and we knew sooner or later, we had to go. Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories stay with you for the long haul. And the thing is, after all these years, I still look back, with wonder..."



Fabulous Graduation speech delivered by Jackie Bello at Princeton University. We went to camp together back in the day... quite touching to watch this now! She always was the over-achiever, in the best way possible. Well done, Jackie. (And there's nothing wrong with graduating one year late!) :)

Hotel Check-In

Front Desk: Good evening Ma'am and thank you for staying with us. Can I get the name on your reservation, please?

Me: Sure, Kenworthy. Although, my boss made the reservation, it's probably under his.

Front Desk: No problem, Ma'am. And will your boss be sleeping with you tonight?

Skinny Dippin'

Is it just me, or has Country Music gotten sexier lately? Driving through the Bible Belt, I first fell upon the likes of Jason Aldean with his Big Green Tractor. Tongue-and-cheek and a little hokie, but certainly one notch up from the classic "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy"...

And then there's this one. Just when I'd almost grown tired of country music (yes, really). My iPod had run out of battery, and it seemed Taylor Swift's "Lovestory" was on repeat for the 10,000th time. I was on a long stretch of highway from Alabama to Mississippi, skimming radio stations, switching between God Talk and Conservative Radio.

Until the DJ came back to life and aired Whitney Duncan. This song is rhythmic, soulful, down-to-earth, simple, classy. Everything a country song should be. Like funnel cake at the Football game on a crisp fall Friday, like snowflakes that fall on your nose and eyelashes, like, well... skinny dippin' in the Mississippi.

Definitely my new summer theme song. You can also follow Whitney on Twitter - www.twitter.com/whitneyduncan

Whitney Duncan   More CMT Music   More CMT Music Videos

16 Years Later

A scene straight out of Sweet Home Alabama. I hadn't been back in years. When my afternoon appointments were canceled in Atlanta, I re-set my GPS and hit the road, in a business dress and heels, on a full tank of gas and unanswered questions. It's where I first fell in love with Billy Ray Cyrus, where I played in the yard with my Australian Cattle Dog named Lucky and rode bareback down dirt roads.

A trip down memory lane, if there ever was one.

So American!

Can you think of any better depiction of American high school? It's a very age-appropriate song, but I could have seen myself singing this at the top of my lungs back in the day. Probably should have seen the video a long time ago, but found it on @RomanWhite's official website. I'm loving his work. Nicely done!

No words.

    Sometimes I wonder if it’s jealousy, or perhaps pent-up frustration from the monotony of everyday life that makes our society feed so eagerly on the remains of a situation already torn to pieces.

    I sit here watching Sanford’s public apology on Washingtonpost.com, exactly one week after driving through the Charleston’s heat and monsoon thunderstorms, thinking his feelings for this woman genuinely surpass the dramatic calm and passion of the South Carolinian skies. The staffers standing behind him on television are smiling ear to ear, excitedly listening and posing for the cameras as lights flash at machine gun rhythm. What exciting internships they must have!

    If I were their professors, I’d probably fail them out of disgust. Were it an emotional intelligence exam, the grade would justify itself.

    You see it in the mist over his eyes, the gravity of his facial expressions, the gentleness of his demeanor. You hear it in his straightforward answers. “Yes” “No” “I’m here, she’s there...” He loved this woman. 

    There are worse sins.

    I see a man before God, desperately begging His forgiveness and seeking His guidance, torn by the realization that he has found comfort and inspiration not in scripture, but in another’s arms. To deny the first goes against all he’s ever known, to deny the latter feels just as wrong.

    Call me immoral, but I’ll be the last to throw stones. My heart goes out to this man, however divergent our respective political viewpoints. Those fortunate enough to have never dreamt of impossible love will disagree. It is their right, as provided for by the 1st Amendment of this beautifully hypocritical nation.

Poking, Tagging, Wall Posts and Grandparents!

Letters from Home

Alicia, come back and we'll get married

In other news, I'm at the French embassy for la Fête de la Musique and this dude comes up to me and says hi and asks about you and I'm like, 1) wtf 2) Alicia needs to stop collecting suitors. But then I realize we've met and he's cool. So I say you're good then he asks about me and I say I'm good and then he asks if I'm in an LSAT class and guess what? We're in the same class. Awesomesauce. So this will be good though b/c now that I have one of your friends asking me twice a week where you are I'll have no choice but to update myself biweekly on the state of your road affair.

I hope all is going well, the Jesuit identity convos are going strong and the open road is less a cruel mistress than the DC summer.

A+

What's next?

It’s the question that every college grad faces. After the celebration and excitement of graduation have come and passed. The caps have been thrown in the air, Budweiser cans and bottles of champagne are empty. You find yourself crashing in Mom and Dad’s basement, going over the financial statements you conveniently ignored for the past four years to a background of Jerry Springer, Oprah, the Real World or Dr. Phil. For a split second, you even contemplate seeking his advice.

    Your entire life, you’ve been talking about what you want to do when you grow up.

    Big surprise - you’ve grown up.

    Your time has come to live up to the promise of your degree and save the world. Friends, family, professors begin checking in, and in a strangely harmonious cacophony ask the same thing: What’s next?

    I was just about to get started on answering that question, resigning myself to a post-graduation fate of basement crashing and job searching, when I won the Ford Fiesta. It brought back memories of my 16th birthday, the freedom to go anywhere with no constraints.

    I had two options. I could either use my car to job search in the worst economy since 1982, or I could take it cross country.

    I chose the latter. Conveniently, it just so happens that my part-time gig with Georgetown’s Discovery Initiative, the University’s alumni outreach program, allows me to do just that. Suddenly, I had my answer.

    Rather than decide right off the bat what to do with my own life, I could, true to clever academic style, turn the question on the hundreds of Georgetown Hoyas who have come before me.

    What did they do after college?

    For the next two months, I have made a job out of introspection and networking. I will be stopping in 20+ cities from now through the end of August, interviewing hundreds of alumni about their experiences at Georgetown and beyond, figuring out how they got started and where they are today.  They’re people like Chris Sacca, Brenda Berg, or Bill Clinton (OK, I still haven’t secured THAT interview. But I’m working on it). They’re doctors and lawyers, journalists and businessmen, housewives and entrepreneurs, doing their part to make a difference in the world. But I know that once upon a time, they were in my broke, recent-graduate flip flops.

    Once I get to California, I’ll dig my feet in the sand for a few days, stop to think about what I’ve learned and visit old friends before heading back to D.C. with these girls.

    If you think it sounds like a dream job, it is.

    As for what comes afterward? I’m open, and confident my heart will stumble upon something that makes it jump. That being said, I’m more than open to suggestions. Isn’t everybody? If we’re not “Linked In” already, you can find me here.

    Until then, it’s me, a Ford Fiesta, plenty of Georgetown alums, and one long, open road...

    Hoya Saxa.

    As a little girl, had I gone missing, there was one place you were sure to find me - under the piano. It was the best seat in the house, a permanent escape from chores or a clever way to avoid bedtime. There were Aunt Bonnie’s Beehtoven and classic American folk songs, Uncle John’s Chattanooga Choo Choo, and Mom’s Debussy...

    Time goes by, things change. My grandparents sold their home and have since moved to a retirement home, inherently less personal. Yet if their move has taught me anything, it’s that those memories from home can be brought back. Even when you’ve emerged from under the piano and find your head brushing the leaves of the retirement home’s tacky decorative plant. All it takes is a keyboard, an upright, a grand if you’re lucky...

    Anyway, just a clip from family lunch on Sunday. Nothing fancy. Nothing rehearsed. The camera ran out of battery. But nevertheless, it’s these spontaneous captures of every-day life, so rare for whatever reason, that bring a smile to my face on the road as I embark on my “where do I go from here” introspective journey.

    I’m one week in.... much more to come.