Common Grounds: 1996-2011

"Fifteen years is a good, long run" for any business, but for a venue in Gainesville, Florida -- a city where the scene seems to shift as often as the tides -- 15 successful years is a record. And, regretful as I may be to even mention it, the doors are closing on Common Grounds tonight one last time.

This is the epicenter of my young-adulthood. This is my home-base: my favorite place in not only the city, but anywhere. This is the place I am certain to feel at home -- a place I've walked into alone countless times, and left only after making a handful of new friends at whatever concert; a place I've gone to fully anticipating celebrating with strangers only to find I knew half the crowd. This place is my Cheers.

When they made the announcement in mid-June, I was too rattled to truly absorb it. But as time has gone on and the nightmare has turned to reality, I have come to accept it. Begrudgingly so, but still. I cannot fault Nigel or anyone else for being ready to move on to new endeavors. All I can do is hope that whoever fills this place fills it with as much passion as they have the last several years.

It's never been about the profit at Common Grounds. It has only been about two things -- the music and the people. That's what makes Common Grounds so significant -- they represent the people, not the scene. I can only hope in their dying days, they stood true to that thread.

I'm not there tonight, nor are any of my close friends -- but honestly, after we first arrived we never really left. Our asses have probably left impressions on the benches of the porch. Our beer cans left water rings. Our sweat -- and for some of us, even our blood -- stains the floor in front of the stage. We are Common Grounds. And whether it's doors are open or not, it still lives on in all our memories.

And while most of us may not know where to call home right now, I'm sure we'll adjust eventually. It's just incredibly difficult to wrap my head, and maybe I speak for all of us, around the fact that we won't be going to Common Grounds for our cheap musical thrills like karaoke, all the exciting concerts, and BBQs on the Porch. I feel displaced. I accept it, but I feel displaced. And I don't know where to go from here...

Finding my Spark ... again.

Wrote this for SparkPeople originally, but felt it was appropriate to share across the board. Yay...

I bought a few books at Barnes and Noble recently.

101 Ways to Stress-Free Living
Your Body, Your Gym
and a fitness and nutrition journal.

I'd previously bought the Spark book too. I'm really making an intelligent, mental effort to become a physically active person. I feel if I educate myself on best practices, purposes, and new ideas, I'll be more inspired to execute them myself.

The 101 Ways to Stress-Free Living has really influenced me recently. I've learned that while to-do lists are often effective they can contribute to my rather frequent overwhelming feeling. Solution: need to write less lists by being more productive in the moment. Also, I'm considering a detox period to help cleanse my mind and body. Focusing on consuming only the most purifying, gratifying foods for 3 - 4 days seems like a logical, uplifting way to clear my mind and my body in one fell swoop.

I think the reading alone is inspiring me to find more time for action. Just this weekend JM and I went for a light hike (about 2.3 miles), went our for lunch, which granted was not healthy by any stretch of the imagination, and came home to relax a few hours and then went to play tennis.

It was exhilarating. Honestly. I felt so great about being active -- I'm not great at tennis, maybe not even good, but I try. And I'll keep trying. Thank God I have a beautiful and loving and tender-coaching boyfriend. He is super tolerant of me. See, he's a natural at most any sport.

But you know what I'm most excited about? Jon-Michael and I sat in bed last night and each wrote a list of goals we'd like to accomplish in the next 2 years. We had the EXACT SAME LISTS!

One of these days I'll share my list, but for now let me just tell you he and I are finally opening working toward the same goal. We want to lose weight and, together, run a 5K.

Maybe now, with my better half holding me accountable on a daily basis, I will feel the pressure to achieve my goals. I feel badly even saying that though; it implies that the accountability I should feel from the friends and network of support I have here isn't enough. But that simply isn't how I mean this. What I mean by it is that I have someone here on a daily basis who I can work with and lean on when I'm feeling less than inspired.

And with that being said, I think I'm going to need to reconnect with my existing Spark Buddies via text messaging. I don't have access to SparkPeople during the day -- which is generally when I have my moments of weakness. Meg and Melissa -- this means you may be getting more texts from me -- AKA pleas for inspiration.

Tomorrow is my day off. My friend is coming over to my house with my three goddaughters. We'll be taking them to the water park and hopefully I'll be getting plenty of exercise. But before that, I'm hoping I'll be able to get a doggie walk or maybe a bike ride through the neighborhood into my schedule.

I feel like this blog is going no place significant. But as usual, I want to thank everyone who has supported me and who continues to. I'm sorry I'm not here anymore to support most of you in return. I need to do a better job. Maybe once I seem to rediscover my balance in life, I'll realize this is actually one of my strongest networks and that I do actually need you guys.

I think I better go for now -

sending love and light.

I want to learn Spanish.

Jon-Michael and I want to be married.

Surprise?

We had a talk over brunch yesterday that consisted of us coming up with a 12 month shared goal set.

It's kind of wild, honestly. I don't know who reads this anymore, and frankly, I don't care.

About three days before our brunch, we had lunch together between my shifts and it occurred to me, and brought me to tears, that for the second time within 14 months, I am fighting for my financial stability.

January of 2010 I was laid off from a job I thought I could have possibly turned into a career. In hindsight, that would never have satisfied me and I was probably only considering making it a career because I heard on so many occasions at that job that I 'better not' make it a career. I don't like people telling me what I can and cannot do. But, looking back, I suppose he was right.

Now I'm being settled back into a part-time position at SunTrust. I say 'back into' because for a short time, I was elevated to full-time because we were down a person. And I'm left wondering what to do now.

I'm 26-years-old. I don't want to work two jobs to make ends meet. I want a consistent 40 hr week, a sweet paycheck, health insurance, and paid vacations -- all from the same employer. Is that too much to ask?

So I'm facing a few questions.

Where do I go from here?

Do I want to grow old in Inverness? And more importantly, do I want to raise a family here? (no. and no.)

So the question that I guess is left to address -- what do I do about it?

My best friend deploys in a couple weeks.
My friend is currently stationed in Afghanistan.


I miss them.

I can't even put it into words. My friends should be home.

My heart hurts watching this movie.

And I want to keep my friends safe and warm and close to me.

Ten Things

I plan to blog about in the not-too-distant future:

1. The 2010 Fest
2. My home with Jon-Michael
3. My career(s)
4. My friends visiting all the way from Austria
5. My parents
6. My top personal goals for 2011
7.
8.
9.
0.


... okay, okay. Maybe I can only think of six right now. So sue me.

I'll be back.

My parents.

There are people in this world too kind to turn a blind eye when they know they have the potential to help.

Adversely, there are people in this world too devoid of conscience to stop themselves from milking that compassion for all its worth.

It sickens me to hear about people taking advantage of the kindness of others. The pure thought of using someone for their willingness to give is immoral and wrought with greed and the idea of deservedness (which, ironically, is seldom the case). Most people willing to abuse someone's pure-hearted goodness generally aren't deserving of it to begin with.

The sad thing is, this happens all the time. I gave money to a homeless person once on my way home. I was a bit richer that day than usual because I hadn't had lunch. The next week, things were financially tighter for me -- I couldn't even afford to eat lunch, and he asked me again. This time I politely said, "sorry, I can't afford it today," and he scoffed at me. As if I don't have my own financial burdens to bear.

Just because mine don't show, does not mean I'm living lavishly. I have my debts, I have my struggles. And even still, most days I'd put food on your table if you needed me to. And I get that quality from my parents.

I know I'll be able to make it until my next paycheck. And I also know I can afford to give a little to someone who needs it. And most days, I'll take your word for it.

But the more I hear about this epidemic of greed and deservedness, the less I care to give. I have no independents. No one is entitled to what I work so incredibly hard for except myself. If I chose to give, it is because I want to and can. Not because anyone else deserves what I have to offer.

I'm sitting in my living room right now, taking a look at this home I've created with Jon-Michael and I'm shaken by the knowledge that I've worked so hard to get to this point and, ironically, I'm working so hard to keep it, we seldom get the time to enjoy it together.

And sullenly, this reminds me of my parents. Them, with their beautiful home on this majestic reservoir in the country, with their three children raised and happy, and yet, they still work so hard to call it home. They have so much to be proud of and such great accomplishments to show for their lives, yet seldom they get to sit in that house and soak up the serene, natural silence of the forest without some interruption.

If it's any indication of what my future may be, I'd rather my parents be recluses in their home in the woods, have no obligations to tend, and no voids to fill in the lives of others unless and until they wanted, than to think they've worked this hard for this long to still not be able to enjoy the fruits of their labors without feeling obligated or pressured into helping people the way I do.

I, as well as they, deserve far better than to be misused because of our kindness.

Walter M. Mielnicki was a brilliant man.

One of my greatest mentors passed away last month. And as sad as it was for his family -- and myself, it was also eye-opening for me. In my head, this man, my fifth grade teacher, and one of my greatest role models in school, was unstoppable. He was a military man, with a stern, no-nonsense policy, a kind heart, a strict classroom, and a penchant for making his students want to learn.

It broke my heart to hear of him passing away -- especially to hear something as malicious as cancer had taken him. Though it was no surprise he'd fought a long, hard battle with it before finally succumbing. He was a brilliant, inspirational man. And, as an adult, I never told him that. (Also, I'm sure I never told him as a child either.)

His passing truly opened my eyes. Who else had I also not told of their impact on my young life? Of my other mentors and teachers, who had the greatest impact, and who did I feel needed to know.




At a point when I was extremely impressionable, Mr. Mielnicki put his stamp on my life. He opened my eyes to worlds much greater than what I knew, all the while showing how large of a difference I could make while staying within the community. From a rural town like Fort McCoy, he took all his students to the moon with his Young Astronauts program -- a program unmatched by any school or organization, and taught us the importance of exploring the vast unknown of our universe.

This was a man who loved his family, his country, and his career as an educator. A man who took his calling seriously and taught his pupils cautiously, but strongly, to excel, set lofty goals, and obtain them.

I am sorry I never got an opportunity to let him know the impact he made on my life. But the loss of his powerful, luminous presence in this world has shed some light on my feeling compelled to write my remaining mentors, who are also probably reaching a grey age, and let them know their impact on my life -- as I often wonder if most teachers ever get that kind of confirmation.

I'm off now to search for addresses for those mentors I long to track down. Which include, K. Butterfield; my gifted teacher from first grade until eighth, Mary Sanford (Rivera); my elementary music teacher, Russell Murphy; my high school chemistry/physics teacher, and Pete Smith; my college music/humanities teacher.