Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. ~Victor Hugo

Atlanta, GA :: Murphy, NC
I have always been overly intense about school, even from an early age. I remember during middle school my cousin got married and instead of taking the opportunity to miss a week of school to go to Utahrd for the wedding, I chose to stay at home because I was afraid of getting behind in classes. I was a strange child, and I don't think much has changed. This year, I decided to ditch my goody-two-shoes act and live on the wild side: I decided to leave town early for Thanksgiving Break. Gasp! That would include me missing 2 days of scheduled classes. Holy mackerel, Batman! But I didn't care. I wanted to for sure be home for Thanksgiving, unlike the emotional turmoil I dealt with last year trying to get out of Salt Lake. *SLC Airport is literally a blackhole, no one can get in and they don't let anyone out. Ever.*

As soon as I flew into the blessed humidity, my mother hurried me off to hear a special Gladys Knight concert. I'm a big fan of creepin' on people, and just standing in line outside the chapel reminded me how much I miss and love ATLiens. Such flavor in fashion, demeanor, and language. Mmmm, mmm, mm. Nothing like it nowhere. I am not a woman of many tears, if any. I can literally count on the amount of fingers I have how many times I have cried in my life. Listening to Gladys Knight and her sweet soulful choir brought tears of joy to my eyes. *They did not leave my eyes though, so that does NOT count as crying.*

Let me paint the scene: We're in an LDS chapel, and for those of you who have ever been in one you know that the rowdiest it gets in there is when babies scream their bloody heads off. This was not the case. Imagine a room full of black Baptists/Methodists/Episcopalians/Etc, with a handful of white people interspersed, standing and clapping and rocking out to the sweet, sweet gospel tunes of The Saints United Voices (Gladys' choir). Then picture spunky little Gladys strolling down the aisle in a fierce red blazer, being mauled by adoring fans. It was cray-cray the entire time.

All I know, is that when I die I will be in Gladys Knight's heavenly choir. It wasn't the fact that it was Gladys Knight (even though she is unbelievable. She is how old and belting out and riffing like nobody's business? Get it sista-friend). It wasn't the fact that she tamed a choir of mega voices into a creature which beckoned at her every will and sway (I kid you not, the dynamics she had that choir perform were insane perfection). And it wasn't the fact that the songs sung are as old as the spirituals sung by the slaves in the cotton fields here in Atlanta (even though they have a mystical power which always touch one's core). It was the fact that Gladys was bearing her testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints targeted towards a black audience, in the most unassuming, inoffensive, humble way possible. And it wasn't Gladys alone, but her friend who brought her into the Church and her husband, Malcolm (better known as Gladys' husband). You felt her love and her friendship, but she was bold and direct and a power house. My next major goal in life is to become her best friend. Honestly, one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

Stephen invited me up to his Aunt Nancy's cabin up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Who woulda thunk that a mere 2 hours away from Atlanta resided beautiful and serene mountains? We picked up a motley crew and entertained ourselves on the drive up by claiming and killing off animals we saw alongside the road. It got so intense we started targeting fake ones too.

The cabin was a dream come true. In the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, secluded from society, surrounded by green. I truly don't understand why everyone is so obsessed with the grandeur of the mountains in Utahrd. Sure, they're bigger but they lack the majestic awe that is only found within a canopy of trees. We got on the roof of the cabin and just admired how the Blue Ridge Mountains came to be named: there is a blue hue that covers the green evergreens of the mountains and it looked especially incredible that day because it was overcast, feeling the calm before the storm of the evening arrived.

All we did was chill and jam on guitars and harmonica all night as we swung (and plucked like a bass, haha genius Patrick) on the hammock and listened to the rain outside. And that was just perfect in my book.