What's it like to understand the world? Or even just a tiny piece of the pie you've ingested hundreds, if not thousands of times, to a point where it does nothing on your taste buds but remind you of the things you've done, the things you've come to regret or the people you love that sooner or later, you've lost?

That slice doesn't taste like that to me but it gives me a feeling, a hunger, a longing for a little salt, something sharp on the tongue which grows on me, just enough to calm my stomach and lubricate the rumbles of my restlessness. Yet it fills me with love, like someone special made that pie just for me, and I want to stay and have another and talk about shit, connect, reflect on our mistakes and achievements, but I'm too full to suffer so I stop, and I say goodnight and I go searching for another piece of the pie in this big, fat world, hoping it might satisfy me even half enough as that one did

The clock in the hall's been broke for years
and I ain't never tried to fix it.
truth is i'm not so good with my hands,
especially when i'm crawling my way through the dark.


i've told you a dozen times, to your ever-changing face
not to lose your expectations any.
but sometimes i want to crawl in between the second-hand
and take a break, maybe stargaze 
and hope i'm not letting anyone down.


truth is, i'm full of flaws and weaknesses and
i'm constantly reminding myself they're there
like a shadow distorting my height and blocking the view.
i'd rather just rest my head, maybe stargaze
and understand i'm full of curiosity and surprises,
capable of caressing with trembling hands and an eager heart,
ready to change, and learn  ??

Dear Granada,


Hello, you are a foreign place. Small, but large enough to satisfy the hunger pangs I've got jirating my ribcage, unable to let me hold still. I dream in waves, salty ones that stay on my tongue after I awake and I notice things that keep going and coming back, all with that same familiar smell. It's like the metallic scent from a beach full of shells, water on concrete, it's subtle and sometimes romantic because it's not a scent you sniff everyday, because if you saw that beach everyday your nose would get used to it and would no longer bat your senses like a cunning lash.


Granada, we don't know each other and perhaps we never will, but I'd like to think positively that there is a potential room in your city that will accept me for who I am, maybe allow me to grow a little. Maybe you'll even open up your arms--just a little bit--and let me see what makes you thrive. I promise to be gentle in this coming-out party, you me the awkward two strangers in the room studying each other with comfortable reluctance. There's still time to come alive if we give each other the chance.


I smell those beaches in my head, with waves pushing a current that is far from over. Sometimes the shore slowly swallows the sand I have my feet pressed into and there's nothing else to do but swim or go home. But sometimes I'll walk along that shore, as it grows smaller and smaller, until I've walked the entire coast in less than half an hour. Then I go home. Or I wake up. Then I want to go somewhere.


Granada, I want to go to you. And I warn you, I'm clumsy and awkward and brilliant. Just give me a chance to show that to you and we might be best friends for life. Or at least you'll have great advice in leading me to the next place in this long, dramatic quest. I'll do my best to entertain you.


Yours indefinitely,


Tara A. Sherman

Tonight completes part one of the two events otherwise known as the "10th Year High School Reunion Weekend." I don't know why I feel so worn out but I do, yet I'm wide awake and actually had a really, really adult conversation with my mother once I got home. And it felt good. I got a chance to be candid since I took the opportunity to earlier that evening. But that's a whole 'nother story.


I could make this sound like the beginning of a graduation speech when I say it will all feel like yesterday, yet time will go by so fast it will slip through your fingers like hair. Seeing those faces, it's a quiet (depending on the face) reminder that yes, it's been a whole friggin' decade and we're not getting any younger.


I can say this, I went to it proudly. Sure, I was nervous as hell, but I had nothing to be ashamed of. It took me a moment, but I've been successful since my four-year-stint as a high schooler. May not have been the most obvious path but I'm making the most out of how I've gotten here. Tomorrow's going to be twice as intense, cocktail wear included. There's no telling what the outcome will be but I have a feeling when it's all over I'll be a little relieved. There's only so much nostalgia you can take until you're ready to get back to your current life, not staring behind and marveling the past.

But it's 2 a.m. I guess there's no real difference.

Now that I'm back in the States, I'm back to my vampire self. When the sun is out, I'm sluggish and rude. But as soon as it goes down, I come alive. What gives?

I'm going to Spain next month. It's a country fueled by nightlife. I imagine I'll probably fit in pretty well. At least I hope so.

John Hughes died today. 2009 is the year of death, I swear. Michael Jackson (duh), Farrah Fawcett (duh), Jay Bennett, Walter Cronkite, Estelle Bennett, Natasha Richardson, Bea Arthur, even Socks the Cat only to name a few. No matter how bright someone shines, we're all mortal. I guess it takes an occasional celebrity passing to remind me to be gentle to myself, yet exceed any limits I inherently place in front of me. I'm fortunate to still have my parents, my closest friends, even people I once considered enemies are still living and breathing so sometimes I forget we're all mortal. And yet, there's the paranoia lurking behind that one day the phone will ring and I'll get the news and suddenly, I'll feel more vulnerable than ever.

I don't intend for this entry to sound too existential or whimsical, but sometimes I do feel like I'm staring down the barrel of a shotgun, and I'm not the one caressing the trigger. It's not that I'm flirting with death or thinking of harm, but sometimes I get carried away thinking about just how fragile life really is, so it propels me to take these giant leaps and constantly change the scenery. I crave stability but at the same time the thought scares me, as though it's going to drag my life down between my fingers and the next thing I know, I'll be too old to remember the fun I could've had or the sights I might've seen. Some people say, "Tara, I admire you for traveling and being adventurous, it takes a lot of balls," but truthfully I don't really look at it like that. I feel like I don't have much choice in the situation, because if I sit still, someone IS going to pull the trigger and paralyze me.

For now, I'm concentrating on remaining positive and keeping the momentum going, that I'm actually starting a real career and not just some thing to pass the time until I "figure it all out." I'm hoping to meet others in Spain who will have a similar outlook, a thirst to explore. It'll make the adventure a lot more appealing, a lot less lonelier.

This is the first time I've sat in front of my computer for about a week. I've been roaming around the southeast.

I drove down to Jacksonville to meet up with my friend Colleen, whom I had not seen in a year and a half. We were inseparable in college but after, distance and circumstance limited us from spending anywhere near that amount. I was considering Jacksonville as my next address, only because she is there, but in all honesty, I really can't stand that city too much and really can't picture myself living there.

We discussed it over drinks. Then decided to take a look a little further south--20 minutes to be exact--at the oldest city in the States: St. Augustine.

I've been there several times in the past. Like other haunted port cities (Savannah, Charleston, Seattle, etc.), there is something calm and mysterious about this town. We spent the next day roaming around, looking at apartments, dining on oysters and Sauvignon Blanc, otherwise avoiding any rainfall the city is used to getting on a regular basis. It was a good day.

Next on the list...Valdosta. Our college town. No matter how far away I get from it or all the dirty things I might say about it, no other place has felt like home more than Valdosta. I moved there in 1999 and stayed for five years. So much happened during that half-decade. And since then, in all the wandering I've done, I've never felt that sense of knowing myself and the people around me like I did in that shitty south Georgia city. So it was only appropriate that Colleen and I take a little trip down memory lane via Interstate 75.

As usual, it was great to see everyone I saw. And the changes! I was initially feeling self-conscious that I was the only person who had gained some weight while I was in China, but looking around I realized I was not alone. So that was a bit of a comfort. And then I remembered that shit like this doesn't really matter when you're around the comfort of friends you've known for 10 years, so I eventually quit thinking about it and focused on having a good time. And I did. We did! We talked our friend Tony into driving up from Tampa, Cliff into driving down from South Carolina, and all the others who were still locals to come out and get crazy. And that we did.

With the exception of Kaleb, I got to see my best guy friends--Adam, Mike and Cliff. I've been so used to hanging out with estrogen. It's not necessarily a bad thing but I do crave balance. I have my best girlfriends in Atlanta and then the female friendships I made in China. But I've been lacking the quality time with guy friends, a time for me to be (even more) unapologetically raunchy, a time to just get simple. Guys are simple. My life is pretty complicated right now, so simplicity is exactly what I need.

Simplicity. I'm trying to wrap my head around it. And that's where I have to stop myself. Perhaps I've been wrapping my head around things too much and it starts to blur the lines. I do have my moments when my head's not in the way and I just let myself go. If I'm lucky, I'm near a microphone and someone with a guitar. That doesn't happen too often but it did while I was down there and it felt great. I started letting out some of these things I've been holding onto, wrapping them in tune, I tried everything I could to do it carefully. I miss singing live so much. I miss standing on a stage (or no stage at all) and pouring everything I've got because it's all I got. I do miss that.

I'm still trying to figure everything out, that hasn't changed. I do know I'm facing a real challenge--and that's to resist the need to run away. I want to start embracing some real sophistication and plant some roots somewhere, get responsible, get mature. I'm growing up and it scares the living crap out of me!

Thank you for reading. More to come later.