30/365

Nothin' like a good old-fashioned rivalry to keep me entertained while I'm "snowed in".

Over the Christmas break, I went to see KU play my alma mater, Belmont, in basketball. Seeing a game at Allen Fieldhouse in Lawrence is about more than just the competition. It's also about an incredible history and heritage and tradition. So, for the night, I took more pride in Kansas than Belmont (which has basically no tradition in athletics- don't even have a football team- which has left such a void from my college years I will never fill--but that's beside the point...). For just a few hours, I set my K-State Pride aside. And in doing so, I abandoned my family, friends, and ultimately, MYSELF! And for that, I was both ashamed and embarrassed.

So tonight, when the two faced off, I felt moved to go to a certain extreme to redeem myself. To earn back my Wildcat wings, per say. (As was shown in the video.)

It really cuts to lose. Especially in such a knock-down-drag-out-fight to the bitter end. I guess the only comfort I can find in it is knowing that no matter what the outcome, we all bleed purple together...

29/365

Originally, I had a fun lunch date with some friends, a 1st birthday party, happy hour drinks in honor of Kansas Day, and a double dinner date planned for today. I had a day off from all things music, so I had maxed out my calendar to its full social capacity.

Then it snowed.

A bunch.

So I quickly moved on to Plan B- me. my best friend. breakfast in bed. ski gear. a sled. mid-afternoon sonic diet coke. hot chocolate. broccolli cheddar soup. fireplace. couch. blanket. appletv. movie. slippers. leggings. candles. more candles. guitar. bubble bath. donald miller book. blog. ahhhh....

The soundtrack for today's entry is "A Little Bit of Love" by the lovely (and I mean LOVELY) Joy Williams. It's so true when she says "the best things in life are always the simple things". I think we proved her point today :)

28/365

Today I worked with Miss Tucker Perry. First of all, lets talk about how cool the name Tucker Perry is. I mean, the girl was basically pre-destined to be a rockstar when she got that name. Second of all, lets talk about the fact that Tucker is the reigning Miss Tennessee USA. No big deal. I know tons of beauty queens. NOT. We were working on music for EP that she'll have up on iTunes come May. Just in time for when she wins Miss USA (crossing fingers and toes).

We had an interesting conversation about how misleading personalities can be. For the better and the worse. Isn't it true that some of the sweetest, most tender people can get away with murder? We get sucked into someone's "niceness" and assume that even if their actions don't add up, we give them the benefit because they are "a nice guy". On the other hand, some of the most blunt, abrasive, challenging personalities can really be the most giving and selfless people underneath. As I was thinking about it later in the day, it really comes down to 1 word: MOTIVE.

In other words, I don't think the walls of our heart (if there is such a thing) are lined with a long list of all the things we did in our days here on planet earth. I think, if there's wallpaper of any kind, it says WHY we did the things we did and WHO we did it for. To please ourselves? To control others? To help the ones we love? To win the acceptance of our peers? To feed our own pride? Or was it to love everyone the best we could?

Maybe I buy into this theory because I fall into the more abrasive category at times. And I know that I can be alot of work to be around because I don't really know how to tell people what they wanna hear. I'm better at telling people what I think they need to hear (because that's what I value on the receiving end.) For the most part, I love this part of myself. But sometimes, if I'm completely honest, I wish I had a less assertive, more palatable disposition.

As for the current Miss Tennessee, she is extremely lovable, genuine, talented and everything BUT what you would expect from the typical "pageant girl". (Aside from the fact that she's gorgeous.) She used to sing background vocals for me in my live show and she would show up to rehearsal with no make-up and a t-shirt. POINT, TUCKER. I can assure you that HER graceful personality is nothing but an extension of who she is underneath.

So yay for Tucker. Thanks for being my friend. And for at least one year of my life, giving me the opportunity to casually drop "my friend, Miss Tennessee" in the middle of any conversation. YES.

27/365

Some people come home to a house full of babies. Some people come home to an empty house. And some people come home to a husband and a good friend writing a song in the dining room.

I kinda left yall hangin' last night...now where was I?

You know those days when the weight of the world just comes crashing down like a two-ton brick on your shoulders? And you get news that just makes the moment you're in feel like it's just too heavy? And you don't even begin to know how to wrap your mind around the hand you've been dealt? Well, that was yesterday morning for me.

I don't feel comfortable sharing the specifics of the situation over the 'interweb' (as Rodney calls it), but the details aren't important anyway. What is important is how desperate I was for God's voice. And how hungry I was for his Comfort. And once some of the dust had settled after the situation, I was thinking about how it often takes something so traumatic for me to literally fall to my knees. And how I wished that I could wake up just as desperate and hungry for the Lord that way everyday. Not just the days that the storm hits. But, to be completely honest, I don't.

I buy into the facade of securities that surround me on "better days". Wether it be material or career or status or whatever...the truth is, I am in need of just as much grace and forgiveness and healing on these days as I am the traumatic ones. It's just harder for me to sift through those artificial comforts and find the Truth than on the days when it all comes crashing down. So THANK GOD He lets it all come crashing down. Or else I don't know that I'd ever even begin to know Him.

Speaking of comfort, I just have to say that this blog has quickly become one of the most rewarding parts of my day. I have gotten so many amazing messages and verbal feedback from people I do and do not know. The small town girl that grew up with everyone knowing everything feels right at home doing this blog. And it is comforting, in a way, to not only have an outlet to spew my thoughts but to know that someone--alot of someones--are reading it. So thank you.

One of my "followers" is a girl named Kelly. She is actually my inspiration for doing a 365 Project in the first place. Kelly is an incredible photographer and I was turned on to her blog mid-summer of last year. She took a photo(s) of her 2 beautiful daughters everyday all year. And even though I've only been around Kelly a handful of times (most of when I was less than 10 years old!), and I've never even met her daughters, checking out her blog became part of my nightly routine last year. Brush teeth, wash face, pj's, hop into bed w/ computer, fire up the Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds blog. Her photos are exquisite and her daughters are just....well.....you'll see. In the blogging world, she is somewhat of a celebrity to me. So you can imagine how flattered I was to get such a supportive shout-out in her entry last night.

Well, now that I've led you all astray in what is probably my most incohesive entry to date, I want to say thank you. Thank you for reading this stuff. Everytime I run into one of you on the Row or wherever and you say something about my brother getting engaged or my crazy neighbors, I feel known. And it feels good.

26/365

Nights like these are really going to test my dedication to this project. Walked in at 12:30 AM dead on my feet. It would have been so easy to just melt into my bed. But NO MA'AM. I cranked up the computer. As for blogging, I have so much I want to say right now. But I'll have to pick up with it tomorrow, because I have to be up early in the morning and I'm really vulnerable right now. If I started writing what I am feeling....well, there's no tellin'...

We went to see my alma mater play their rival in the Battle of the Boulevard game tonight. After that, we caught a blues band and then ended up at a great round at the Bluebird. I love this town. As crazy as it may be. I love this town.

So sorry this was brief. I'll make up for it tomorrow. Promise. Zzzzz.....

25/365

Lovely. The story just keeps unfolding next door. When I get a free minute this week, I'm making brownies and goin' over with a flip cam hidden somewhere on my person. So stay tuned for that.

In the meantime, we're just learning to adjust to the harmonious barking that echoes through the walls. Tonight I pray "Lord, please keep the black wrought iron fence next door in tact. Please keep the soil underneath the fence solid and frozen, so that the fierce doberman pincers cannot dig their way out. If they do get out, I pray that you keep all young children (mainly ME) under your protection. God, I also pray for patience. I will need it daily as I will be greeted by the angry and annoying yelps of the neighbor dogs everytime I pull in the drive. Help me to love them because you created them. And help me to give their [mysterious and sketchy] owners grace throughout the many sleepless nights and life-and-death encounters I predict are in our near future."

Amen.

24/365

I guess that some people's Saturday nights last a little longer than others! We got a chuckle out of this today at lunch. There's really not much more to say about it than that.

Here's the current scenario: Saints 28-Vikings 28. OT. Saints just won the toss. Like most, I'm enticed by the games that come down to the last minute. Especially a game like this one, where a whole season and a Super Bowl are at stake. And it gets me thinking about what that means in life. Isn't it true that the more one has to lose, the more interesting the story is? (Thanks to Donald Miller, I now look at everything in life thru the lens of a movie camera.)

I think about the journey it was for me to claim myself as an artist. For so many years, I demanded to be labeled exclusively as a "songwriter". Deep down, I knew what my gifts were. I knew my skill-set. And they leant themselves to more than just sitting in empty rooms writing. But I was a chicken. To stand up and proclaim "I want to make a record. I am an artist." scared me to the core. And I saw all that I could lose in doing so.

What are those things I could lose, you ask? PRIDE. REPUTATION. COMFORT. (just for starters.) To live in a town full of musicians means subjecting yourself to the scrutiny of their opinions. And I had to have a serious conversation with myself about which I valued more: the restlessness inside of me that God had used to get my attention OR the voices of strangers. The longer I lived here, the more people I knew in the music business, which meant the more and more opinions I had to risk. And, I am ashamed to say, that it took longer than it should have to make the right decision. But I did.

And as I watch the Saints making their way down the field at this very moment, I can't help thinking about how they've never been to a Super Bowl before. And how every play they have so much to lose. But I'm glued to the screen, because I want to see history being made. And I'm enamored with the possibility of history being made in my own life. So I'm taking notes from the Saints:

-Try to win all your games.

-Lose some.

-Get back up.

-Get better.

-Win some more.

-Kick a winning field goal.

-Make history.

I can handle that. But first, "I am Nicolle, and I am an artist. I want to make a record and sing my songs on the radio."

23/365

3 years old. Do you remember what it felt like to be 3? If not for this video, I'm not sure that Gabe Frizsell would remember his first day of it. I don't remember 3. But I do remember 4...

Being as I was the oldest child, I happened to get the short end of the deal every once in awhile. One of those was birthday #4. It was the first friend party thrown for me. We had a Sesame Street ice cream cake, cause I was big into words and ice cream. [Some things never change.] We sang The Birthday Song. Cool. Blew out the candles. Cool. Cut the cake. Still cool. Handed out cake to everyone but me. NOT COOL. I think my parents took the "manners" portion of parenting a little too far. I had to sit there and watch as everyone dug into the cake while I patiently waited for the last measly piece. Do you realize how long 2 minutes feels when you're 4? It must be the equivalent to an hour in grown-up time.

Then it was time for games! Mom filled a large mixing bowl with cotton balls. The objective was to try to get as many cotton balls as possible in this spoon while blind-folded. I remember this as clear as yesterday (partly because we have it on video), but the next part still just kills me. You have to understand that I was the kind of girl that was easily excited. I tucked in my shirts. I had perfectly straight bangs. I washed my hands without being asked to. So a game of this nature was right up my alley. In perfect little girl fashion, I let out a little squeal and rushed to the front of the line. Then from outside of the camera frame, dad comes from across the room at bullet speed, places both hands on my shoulders and says "NO NO NO NO!" in a laughing, but billowing voice. "The birthday girl always goes last!" You couldn't paint a more perfect pout than the one I put on display for the remainder of the game. Well, for the remainder of the party for that matter. Because this "you're so special you go last" program I was being subject to just kept going and going.

I have to believe that my parents--although OVER THE TOP in their pursuit to create the most well-mannered child on the planet--had their hearts in the right place. And now, I just cannot help but to smile every time I go to a little one's birthday party -like I did tonight-and I see he or she take the 1st bite of cake or the 1st swing at the pinata. The funny thing is, knowing that that wasn't how things went down for me actually makes me feel special.

So maybe they knew what they were doing all along....

"So the last will be first, and the first will be last." Matthew 20:16

22/365

Greetings from Granbury, Texas! Yeah, that's right. The Flip Project just went across state lines for the first time this year. The first of many blogs from the road, I'm sure!

Tonight I played a show at a winery outside of Fort Worth. So fun. So intimate. I love playing with a band, but I don't know if I'll ever enjoy anything more than just me and the piano. That's where it started when I was 5. And that's where I'll be, god-willing, when I'm 85. Just me and a piano. I feed off of that psuedo-living room, kick off your shoes, tell stories between songs, get to know everybody by the time the set is over deal. And let me just say. A room full of Texans drinking good wine mixes well with me and my piano. It will be some kind of crime if I'm not back here within 6 months.

Sooooo....on the plane ride down here today, I sat next to these two 42-year-old women. (Nothing wrong with 42. In fact, I've been married to 42 already. Just mentioning it, because they said it out loud. Very loudly.) They thought I was reading my new Donald Miller book. But instead, I was eavesdropping (which wasn't hard to do, because they more than exceeded the indoor voice policy). I apologize in advance for anyone I am about to offend by this next part. These women were the stereotypical Texas debutantes. If debutantes were 42. (God, forgive me here.) Pencil thin eyebrows. Tacky jewelry. Excessive accessories. Big name-brand purses. Dressed like their great-grandpa struck oil at some point. Which of course, he didn't. Because if he had, they would've dropped that in their conversation loud enough for me to hear. Where were those noice-cancelling headphones when I really needed them?

I proceeded to hear them cover the following topics:

-Woman 1's son is was recently chosen to be a part of an elite group of people to go to Washington D.C. But "she was not about to let her kid go to D.C. by himself", so she was going to chaperone. And to shop. (I made the 2nd part up, but still.)

-Woman 2 thinks that her friend Jason impregnated his roommate. They're not dating, but they live together platonically, and "as far as any of us know, he's the dad."

-Woman 1 & 2 think that their friend Julie needs to divorce her husband. He "comes home from work, drops his clothes on the floor, eats supper, then goes out drinking until 1-2 am everyday". But he doesn't want a divorce from her because "he doesn't want to have to pay all that child support and he likes having her cooks his meals and wash his clothes."

(Ok, at this point, I'm almost laughing. It was so funny.)

-Woman 1 & 2 agreed that one of their girlfriends, lets call her Amy, "has really gained alot of weight lately." They're super concerned.

-Woman 1 is apparently a big time runner. But "she's not near as fast as her husband. He can run a 9:30 mile!"

-Woman 2 had to go to the hospital a few weeks ago because she "caught her wedding ring on a rock and almost tore her finger off". That's why she's not wearing her wedding ring anymore.

Needless to say, I didn't get any sleep on the flight. But, it did get me thinking about what I talk to my friends about. Surely I'm not obnoxious like this, am I?

Reading back over paragraph 3 now.......and YES. I am, indeed, as obnoxious as them.

21/365

I took it to the limit today, people. I went next door hoping to meet my new neighbors (refer to yesterday's blog). And left disappointed. There are about 7 cars in that driveway. NO ONE in this video is actually going to live in the house. More confused than ever. The saga continues...

20/365

You think you know, but you have no idea.

This could be said about our neighbors to the east. To put it lightly, there has been some "strange activity" going on next door. It all started a few years ago. One of the what-seemed-to-be-about 15 kids that lives there came over asking for a donation for a mission trip. When asked what church he attended, he replied "we don't go to church." When asked where he was going on the mission trip, he replied "I don't know." We had been suspicious for some time already, but this incident firmly raised a red flag in the air.

We then watched from our driveway one day as 4 middle-aged women, all of different ethnicities (so they weren't sisters), each with 3-4 kids loaded in a tour-bus sized RV. They were then followed by the "big daddy" [so to say] of the house. Let me repeat that. 4 women. 12 kids. 1 man. 1 RV. As they were pulling out of the drive, "big daddy" says, "we're heading out for vacation for a few weeks!" and waves goodbye.

Throw in the fact that there is a private business being run out of the garage, about 5 people living in the RV in the driveway, the kids don't attend any church or school, people coming and going allllll hours of the night, and the fact that we only know their last names because the mailman accidentally put a piece of their mail in our box.......and I think we've got an old-fashioned down home case of polygamy.

Now, I'm not sharing this because I have any judgement or opinion to share about the situation. I am sharing b/c this has been the ultimate source of home entertainment in our lives for several years now. Can't tell you how many nights we've covertly spied thru the kitchen in our pj's as someone makes a delivery to the super mysterious "office door" behind the garage or we discover a face we've never seen before emerging from the house in their pajamas. [Cue the Dateline music please.]

Being the avid "Big Love" viewer that I am, it has been a trip to take scenarios from the show and try to apply potential parallels to the situation next door. Thoughts like "I wonder who their celestial prophet is" and "do they live by the principle" and "have they ever resided on a compound" have crossed my mind more times than I can count.

But all the suspense came to a screeching halt last month, when literally OVERNIGHT the house became vacant. EMPTY. No movers. Nothin. One of our sources has revealed that "big daddy" started his own housing development, with his house being the central property. [Cue: Dateline music.] The house was never officially up for sale, but someone is moving in. And that someone has us on alert. From what we've gathered so far (after hours of window-watching and covert trips down the driveway), we have a sneaking suspicion that the new residents are sure to provide many more hours of entertainment.

If you only knew to what measures I went to secretly get video of the movers at work today....

To be continued...

19/365

About a year ago I had the GREAT privilege of writing with Mr. Josh Kelley and one of my great friends/co-writer/producer Clint Lagerberg. At the time, Josh was just coming to Nashville to write songs to pitch to other artists. He has since signed a country deal with Universal Records and if I'm correct, the record is almost completed! So much can happen so fast around here. It's awesome when it works that way.

I really believe in him as a country artist and can attest to the fact that he is incredibly talented and equally lovable. A star in every sense of the word. I am very excited not only for him, but for Clint (guitar player on the left), who is now producing his record. Clint has been like a brother to me over the past few years, so that makes it all that much sweeter.

Which brings me to this point. This truly is a spiritual place filled with amazingly gifted people chasing after things that require a lot of faith. And one of the greatest things about living here is seeing some of these dreams come into fruition. Watching Clint's career bloom since I met him has been a thrill. So I can't wait for yall to hear Josh's first single--whatever it may be--and what I'm sure will be the killer record that he and Clint have made.

Thanks for the shout-out, boys. I won't lie. The little things like that mean the world to me.

18/365

The Mistletoe Project is back! Much to the dismay of our fans and after much consideration, we have declined partaking in a long list of follow-up projects...

• The Shadow Project (Groundhog Dog)
• The Cupid Project (Valentine's)
• The Clover Project (St. Patty's)
• The Egg Project (Easter)

I know, it's disappointing. We can only take over the world one holiday at a time ya'll! Speaking of holidays, we both felt that MLK would have wanted us to write today. That he would have wanted us to not only have a dream, but to try to make it come true. We thought he'd want us to take another step, even though we couldn't see the rest of the staircase. We thought he'd want us to be a light in a very dark place we like to call music row today. So we wrote a song. Woohoo!

Mollomoll and I happen to have a great track record writing on holidays. We have had a standing Monday writing appointment for almost 3 years, and some of our best songs have fallen on Memorial Day, MLK day, Labor Day, President's Day.....all days when the office is empty and lonely. We don't really understand it, but we're goin' with it. Mol walked in this morning and said, "I just wanna write something that feels good." So we did.

17/365

I crashed a wedding party today. Not the wedding. The wedding party. But you do what you gotta do to see your best friend from high school! I won't bore you with the details of why or how I ended up at a table full of bridesmaids, most of whom I didn't know. All you need to know is that I got a chance to reconnect with Miss Carrie (used to be Elliott), now Wright.

Carrie's one of those "pick right back up where you left off" friends. Some friendships require day-to-day contact to maintain a certain level of closeness. But not Carrie and I. I saw her for the first time in well over a year today. And after the initial hi/hug/"omigosh you're pregnant!" program (oh yeah, she's having a baby!!!), we literally stepped right back into the bff shoes. No wall of small talk to break through. No distance to overcome. Not an ounce of pretension to defy. An instant reconnect.

When I was a sophomore and she was a junior, we came to Nashville with our moms. When I was a junior and she was a senior, we dated brothers. I could go on and on. But you get it. We have years. Alot of them. And I wish this kind of friend for everyone in the world. They are rare and precious.

P.S. Thank you Megan for letting me borrow your bridesmaid today. :)

16/365

I love being married. I've got the ultimate sidekick until death do us part. I mean, you really could stick us in an empty room with white walls and I don't think we'd EVER get tired of each other. We'd talk, analyze, poke fun, dream, sit in silence, push each other's buttons forever. With that said, we don't have a problem flying solo when we need to. As was proven tonight...

When RDC is away (like off with his buddies carousing in the mountains of North Carolina), I get busy doing things I wouldn't if he were here. Liiiiiike....going to a musical, rocking out at a Band Hero party, seeing Jeremy Lister play, and making a Walmart run after midnite. All those things are possible when he's here. But he'll do them w/ me because he loves me. Not because he wants to. And that. is. why...

Solo weekends can really be a blessing. An opportunity to go and do whatever you want whenever you want with whoever you want. Without having to consider anybody else's plans, desires, or mood. I know that sounds extremely selfish. And that's because it is.

But I will say this...when I came home tonight, nobody was here. And it made me realize that no matter how much you think you appreciate somebody, you need their occasional absence to remind you. Because despite how fun getting to go whichever way the wind blew me tonight was, I still came home to an empty house. And I'm glad I did. Because it's raw evidence of how lucky I am to have my sidekick.

***On an semi-related note, I think I'm more than ready to go on the road w/ T-Swizzle now.

15/365

When the man's away, the wife will.....WATCH HIGH SCHOOL BASKETBALL! To say I love high school sports would be an understatement. There's something so special to me about that level of competition. The spirit. The camaraderie. The passion. The pride. This is what a high school athlete plays for. At any higher level of play, the love for the game becomes tainted with selfish incentives. (Scholarships, awards, contracts, bonuses, etc.) Those 4 years are the sweet spot, in my opinion. The years that you want to relive the rest of your life.

Part of my love for h.s. bball is that it's not just about basketball. There's two games going on. The basketball game. And the social game. The latter is what intrigues me. It's about a sophomore guy who scores the winning point at the buzzer, and all of a sudden gets the attention from the senior girls. It's about a cheerleader who's making eyes with one of the players from the opposing team. It's about a group of parents who have unofficial, but understood, assigned seating. It's about the outcast who shows up dressed in all black just to sit in the corner at the top of the bleachers and doesn't even like basketball. And in the case of Nashville private schools, it's about getting to wear street clothes for the first time all week. WOOHOO!

To take it even further, I would say that a home game might not even be about either of those things. It's about the "after game". The much-anticipated freedom of a Friday night. Who's spending the night at who's house. Who's going out to eat where. Who's going to makeout with who at midnite. Who's driving. I know that might that sounds simple & stupid. But I can remember what it felt like. Like the open road on a full tank. And when I go to a game, I still feel that energy in the kids around me. I remember how it felt to be the girl dating the guy who scored that winning point. It was some kind of Hollywood. And I remember how it felt as an athlete to look up in the stands and see my parents sitting in the same row every game. It was some kind of victory.

I got a taste of all of this tonight, as I watched one of my close family friends, Ross Welch, a sophomore at DCA, score two-3-pointers in the last minute of the game to take his team into overtime. He played a great game on ALL fronts. And I had a BLAST watching him do it.

14/365

Thank God for roadblocks.

I was rushing into town to meet 2 Clawsons when I came up on what looked like 9/11 at the end of our street. As I got closer I realized that it wasn't nearly as bad a scene as I first thought. But it blocked the whole street just the same. I was irritated and inconvenienced. I wanted to get somewhere and something was in my way.

As I was waiting in the parking lot watching the minutes pass by, an elderly man just a few feet away was watching his vehicle go up in flames. He was the most precious man and for a few minutes my heart completely forgot about why it was I was rushing to get into town. I thought "that poor man is not having a good day." The thought process that followed went something like this- "I wonder what started the fire"...to..."I wonder if that man was scared".....to......"I wonder if this man has money to get a new vehicle"...to...."I wonder if this man has someone to go home to."

How I got all of that from a car fire is beyond me, but I'm glad I did. Because it reminded me that sometimes God puts a little something in our path to slow us down and to force us to think outside of ourselves. I swear I pray for that insight every morning. To be engaged in other's lives throughout the day. 15 minutes later, I'm tangled right back up in my own agenda and there's no telling how many divine appointments I've missed. So tonight I am thankful for roadblocks and saying a little prayer for the anonymous man who is without a car tonight.

13/365

Here's a clip from part of the song Shanna (www.myspace.com/shannacrooks) & I wrote today.

I am so tired. Going to sleep. Right. NOW.

12/365

As of 5:05 p.m. I was halfway thru mile 3 of my run, contemplating in what pajamas I'd be wearing to watch the American Idol premiere. As of 6:05 p.m., I was at a private "super exclusive" (yeah right) screening for the new movie, Crazyheart, with my publisher. And for those of you who know where I live, you can do the math and stand amazed (finish run+shower+hair/makeup+wardrobe+drivetime=1 hr.). The whole scenario was soooo Nashville. Turned out to be quite the social evening after all!

As of 8:05 p.m. I was having a lovely dinner with RDC and our good friend, Andrew. Andrew is one of my husband's best friends. He is also one of my great friends. One of those people with many layers. And the longer you know him, the more you realize that there's always another layer underneath that you haven't seen yet. Everything about Andrew's roots are everything that mine and my husband's roots are not. He was raised in Hollywood. That should tell you enough :) But, all around, the guy has the most fascinating stories. And as I was listening to him tell us about how he's gotta go to LA this weekend to work on a soundtrack song for a major motion picture (while I'll be home sorting my sock drawer and painting my toes), it became glaringly obvious to me how much I value the diverse pool of friends we/I have. They really run the gamut from left to right, liberal to conservative, angelic to heathen. Just kidding about that last part.

But in all seriousness, I am thankful for the diverse set of people that God has put in my path. They stretch me. They love me. And they all show me that we're really not all that different in the end. Tonight a farmer's son, the daughter of a concrete man, and a child of Hollywood all shared a meal, laughs, and laid another brick in the wall of our friendship.

We also managed to put quite a dent in that chocolate chip cookie you see above. Yum-0.

11/365

Nobody said it was gonna be glamourous. Nobody said it was gonna be flattering. And you can bet that nobody promised it would be easy.

Yep, that's the "road to rockstardom" I'm referring to. The ever-changing, seemingly never-ending, terribly conditional path that leads to success in the music biz. Sure, there are the glimpses into a what-could-be sparkly future along the way that keep the stars in your eyes. But few are the frills. And many are the hurdles. And for the most part, it is just plain old hard work.

Lets take, for instance, the video you see above. This is a video from this afternoon of me under the direction of my voice/stage/diva instructor, Ron. In this clip you are viewing Ron attempting to get me to breathe into my body and create a deeper, more resonating tone by opening up my rib cage. He does so by having me elevate the book resting on my stomach while singing a challenging line in a song. Rivoting stuff, I tell ya. One hundred percent pure glitz and glam right there, folks.

The moral of this demonstration: Learning to be a rockstar is not for wimps.

And I'm no wimp! :)

10/365

If someone wrote a story about my day today, it would go something like this:

Nicolle slept until an embarrassingly late hour and neglected to attend church. She then proceeded to mindlessly watch a football game, movie, basketball game, & tv show. The end.

Lazy, unproductive days like this one are scary now that I'm doing this project. In the past, I could cruise through the gates of denial and pretend that I was less lame than I thought. But now I'm forced to sit down every night and take a good long look at what I accomplished or what was meaningful about the last 24 hours of my existence. And the last 24 hours of my existence were less than monumental, to say the least.

The good news is that the combination of stir craze & guilt that arises due to my inactivity usually spurs the following:

1. Gratitude for the ambitions and dreams that I have. (because w/o something to chase, I would have a LOT of days like this one.)

2. Motivation to accomplish something above average tomorrow.

3. Realization of the value of community. (Because I am left craving some quality socializing.)

Bottom line: Tomorrow will be better.

P.S. In case you wanted a more detailed report of my day: Ravens killed the Patriots. Michael Cera got the girl in "Youth in Revolt". The Vols upset #1 KU. Arizona beat the Packers in OT. And "Big Love" got a new opening credits reel to kick off the 4th season. WOW. That's both depressing & embarrassing.

9/365

Today I remember.

I remember when mom went into labor with Taylor. I was 5 and my bangs were so crooked when I showed up at the hospital to see my baby brother for the first time. My dad had curled my hair that day.

I remember when Taylor and I shared a bedroom in the gold house on Main Street. We shared the red daybed. The comforter was covered in red, blue, and green circles, squares, and triangles. Being the superior age, I occupied the 'big bed', and he settled for the pull-out trundle bed underneath. But sometimes he'd end up in the big bed with me.

I remember sitting in the backseat of my parents Volvo with Taylor on a vacation we took to New Mexico. I was 12 or so. He pinched my arm, poked my leg, and invaded my personal bubble for about 8 hours straight.

I remember the time I was babysitting Taylor and he blindside-tackled me in the living room. Although he weighed 50 pounds less than me at the time, he could still pull my arm behind my back until I was in tears. At which point, I threatened to call Santa Claus (because "mom & dad gave me the number before they left..") and reported Taylor's bad behavior.

I also remember 2 nights before my wedding when my brother told me that he and his girlfriend were going to have a baby. That night was one of the scariest, most emotional, and unbelievably beautiful moments I have ever shared with a human being.

And I remember how this year at Christmas, cutting above all the holiday greetings and small talk was a little girl's voice saying "dada, dada, dada!" and throwing her arms in the air. A little girl who has my brother's brown eyes and lips and hair.

My point is this. When you're changing your little brother's diaper and helping him tie his shoes in the morning before school, you don't really believe he'll ever grow up and get married. But he will. And he does. And one day you hear this beautiful girl's voice on the other end of the phone talking about how they're going to be a family. And how she's going to be his wife. And you can't believe that she's talking about the same boy who used to love Thomas the Tank Engine.

I will always remember this day. The day my brother asked Lauren Whitney Morris to be his wife. The day I got a sister.

8/365

8 years in Nashville. 0 trips to Rafferty's. But that all changed tonight.

You should know that not even 28 emails in a thread entitled "Friday Night" (yes, I counted), were enough to create a direct initiative for our girls' night tonight. One thing lead to another lead to someone having to put their baby to sleep then to somebody not wanting to eat Mexican then to 45 minutes to kill before our movie lead to a Nissan full mid-twenty-something women squealing "Rafferty's!" AHHHHH!!!

You see, we're the kind of girls that value good wine, a nice ambience and chic decor when we're dining together. But I'm sure the girls would agree with me when I say that none of us would've traded our Rafferty's cosmos for the city's finest Merlot tonight.

I finished "A Million Miles" yesterday. The ending focused on how great stories are made of great scenes. That people remember a specific encounter, something out of the ordinary more than they do the overall story of their life. In December, I asked 100 people what was most memorable about 2009. And in almost every response, I was given a scene. And most were out of the ordinary. I got a lot of "when I was standing on stage with U2...." and "the day I went to New Orleans on a whim...." and "finding out I was having a baby....." All things that don't happen everyday. No one said "that 45th time I ate at the same restaurant I always eat at with my friends". Miller's point was driven home. If you want to have a memorable life, do something worth remembering everyday.

Today it was cocktails at Rafferty's.

7/365

Not exactly what I'd call a winter storm, but I'll take it! I had every intention of making the most prized snow angel in all of Wilson County this morning. But one look out my window and my plans were deduced to sifting it thru my fingers and sprinkling it over my own head to simulate actual snowfall. We logged a whole quarter-inch out here (insert sarcastic chuckle). It's so comical to see how overexaggherated the local meteorologists's winter forecasts are, but I'm not gonna lie. I like the hype. And every once in awhile, they're accurate. As was the case in the winter of '03....

It was my freshman year at Belmont. At that point I was still unsure about Nashville, what I was doing and where I was going with my life. It was a very rough first year to say the least. Lots of tears. Lots of holding back tears. Lots of fears. Lots of facing fears. Lots of doubt. But also a lot of love from my new best friends, Betsy Boyer & Lindsey Jones. And when one of the worst winters in Nashville's recent history went down, we made one of my favorite and most significant memories together. To make a long story short, we ended up in a massive snowbattle with guys from the basketball team. I remember laughing harder than I had laughed in awhile. You know, the funny thing about memories is that a lot of time you have no idea you're making one as you're making one. And at the time I was clueless. But, as far as I'm concerned that's one of the best we made all year.

Being my first Nashville winter, I thought snow of that volume was normal. But now I like to think that God sent that storm to give me a little break from my heavy heart. :)

6/365

I thought I had taken all the necessary precautions.

I had booked something for every day in January. I began a serious workout regimen. I made a list of big projects on hand for any unforeseeable downtime. I started a new Bible challenge (reading all of Proverbs this month). All fool-proof ways to prevent the POST-CHRISTMAS DEPRESSION. But one co-writer got sick and another one flaked out on me, so I was faced with two days of TOO MUCH free time. And sure enough.....

BAM! Severe cases of family withdrawals, heavy-heartedness, bon bon cravings...you name it. It just got the best of me today. And I was doing so well too!!!

Will someone just tell me that they experience something...ANYthing... similar to this in the slightest way so I won't feel like a mental patient worthy of a straightjacket?

Going to send RDC out to get me something with sugar.

5/365

Chase everything, expect nothing. That's my mode of operation for the music business. With far more emphasis on the 'expect nothing' part. Because odds are, you'll get told no. And the odds are, you'll get told no again. The odds are, you'll lose out to politics. Odds are, your song won't make it. But the cool and quite beautiful thing about life [and the music biz] is that the odds are defied everyday. And somebody says yes. And somebody says yes again. And it's not political. And your song makes it radio.

In the case of RDC, this happened recently. A song he wrote performed by an artist he produced defied the odds. And although this blog is about me (true) and I have nothing to do with the song (even truer), it's totally relevant for me to mention. And here's why...

Being married to a songwriter is a trip. You have more faith in them than anyone, but you have to be completely content with the possibility of nothing else ever happening for him. You are proud of him, but you separate your pride in their work from your love for who they are. You feel their pain when someone pulls the plug, but you also get to celebrate when someone pulls the trigger. And that's what I'm doing today. Celebrating. Found out today that after two weeks on the charts (excluding the Christmas chart freeze), Rodney's song "Jackson Hole" was the Hot Shot Debut this week.

I'm not celebrating his song making it to 53 on the charts (because maybe that's as high as it will go) so much as I'm celebrating him. In a world full of no's, he just keeps chasing it anyway. And someone said yes. And I don't think it was anybody in the music business, if ya know what I mean.

P.S. I love this song. It's about a girl who doesn't know how to ski. Hmmm.... ;)

4/365

As I mentioned before, I'm reading this book "A Million Miles In 1000 Years". (HIGHLY RECOMMEND, btw.) Last night I read about how the Incan emperor had designed the Incan Trail that leads to Macchu Picchu to be the longest, toughest route possible. He did this because he believed that the more painful the journey up there, the more people would appreciate the beauty of it once they got there. He goes on to use this metaphor for many things, from something as deep as your spiritual walk with God to as simple as--in today's case--running.

I think part of why I've always loved running is because it tough. I think my friends think that running must be easier for me than most, which is why I do it. It is, in fact, quite the opposite. I do it because it's really hard...and it feels good to do something hard! In the past when I've tried aerobics classes or yoga, I've walked out feeling cheated because I hadn't cussed under my breath, sweated profusely and left with Jell-o legs. Nonetheless, those are good methods of exercise (please don't send me hate mail!), but I've been bull-headed about even considering other forms of exercise and I wasn't sure why. But last night when I read that bit about Machu Picchu, I felt somewhat vindicated in my obsession with running. And it couldn't have come at a more appropriate time, given that today was my first day of training for my 3rd Half Marathon. Anyone who's ever run a half or full-marathon will understand what it means push thru a wall of pain and chorus of voices in your heading telling you to quit before you've finished. But it's that other voice that keeps you going. It's the one that says:

"It hurts right now, but I'll love this memory."-(Don Miller)

And I plan to LOVE--no CHERISH--the memory of a personal best finish at my 3rd Music City Half Marathon April 24, 2010.

You heard it here first.

No backing out now.

Here goes nothin'....

3/365

If you've never done something completely insane because you knew it would make someone else happy, then you've never really been in love. And you SURE haven't been married. In the past few years I've gone pheasant hunting, learned to live in a house with sub 70 degree temps, given up wearing hooded sweatshirts to bed, and learned to love Thai food. All for love. But today's case of crazy revolved around a product called Bear B Cue. My hubby (who I will refer to as RDC) is a connoisseur of all things barbeque. It's serious. In the early stages of our relationship, I watched as he would take his roll and wipe [yes, i said wipe] the excess bar-b-que sauce off of his plate at a restaurant and savor every last bite in the truest of redneck fashions. I married him anyway. :)

In November, he discovered Bear B Cue. It's a set of bbq sauces packaged in honey bear containters. It just so happens to be manufactured in Inman, Kansas--only about 20 minutes from my hometown. Since this discovery, he has carried a bottle of it in his coat pocket into a steakhouse and used it in front of mixed company. And after all the turkey was gone at Christmas, I watched him smother a few platefuls of mashed potatoes with it. It's quite obnoxious, but a little bit cute too.We brought a LARGE number of bottles of the stuff back to TN w/ us. I believe there are 6 bottles in the door of our refrigerator right now.

Without so much as speaking a word, I knew he was dying to use that bbq sauce to it's full potential. So I made a turkey today. Does it make any sense to cook a turkey 10 days after Christmas? Nope. Do I really want to eat more turkey? Nope. Does it really save that much money to cook a whole turkey instead of buying deli turkey? Nope. But was I a good wife today? YES. YES YES.

2/365

2/365 from Nicolle Clawson on Vimeo.

We saw "Up In The Air" today. It was between that and "It's Complicated". The movie with a realistic plot won. :)

In the movie, George Clooney (who is looking mighty, mighty fine I must say) is a motivational speaker who uses an analogy of a backpack in all his presentations. He talks about filling your backpack with all the things that weigh us down in life and trying to walk with it on. I'll let you see the movie and say no more, but within a few hours of hearing that, I had done cleaned out my closet!! For someone who takes a lot of pride in being organized, cleaning out my closet somehow also gets procrastinated/neglected/flat out ignored. And it's because doing so requires looking at everything that is in my closet. And that takes a lot of time. And a lot of energy. And a lot of nerve, when you're Nicolle Galyon. Because for me, looking at all my clothes takes wayyyy longer than it should ever take someone. In other words, I have too many clothes. When I came to college, I was the least fashionable girl at Belmont. Not because I didn't like clothes, but because a) I didn't have alot of money and b) there was nowhere to shop in the flatland isolation-booth-of-a-state I grew up in. Once my circumstances changed financially and geographically, I bloomed like a Chia pet in your kitchen window. I have a walk-in closet that is as big as my old living room now and I can't seem to find anything because every square millimeter of the racks were occupied. Embarrassing. And shameful.

After 2 hours of deliberating over things that I haven't worn in well over a year (some too long for me to mention in public), I finally hauled 4 lawn trash bags out of there. And the sad thing is that you can't even tell. It's still packed floor to ceiling with enough clothes to...without doing laundry for months, wear a different outfit everyday. As I stood there looking at the tan pea coat I swore was worth $200 and the tank top that still had a tag on it, I wondered what's is all worth? And I realized that the reason I like hoarding my clothes is because it makes my purchases less temporary and more valuable in my mind. It helps me justify how much I've spent. So as I lugged those bags up the stairs into the closet with 6 other bags of clothes from the last time I'd cleaned the closet, I asked for a little forgiveness. And a smaller closet in the next house I live in.

1/365

It's the first day of 2010. Otherwise known as "the future". And I spent my first day of "the future" in a car on roads. Roads that brought me back home. From my home. It's as confusing as it sounds. I've never been able to wrap my head around Nashville as my home. But I feel like an imposter calling Sterling, Kansas my home too. It's like I've got all roots and no branches back there. What used to be my whole world has somehow found a way to continue on without me. The hometown newspaper found somebody else to take pictures and write stories. The church found somebody else to play piano on Sunday mornings. My family somehow manages to make a complete circle with their hands around the dinner table every night. All without me. Imagine that. I guess the fabric of a small town is build on one big collective family. A family that takes their neighbor food when they're sick. A family that cheers for the hometown team. A family that mourns the loss of anyone that passes. All things that I haven't done so much of in the last 8 years. So I feel like an imposter. But as I pull into the city limits of Nashville, and I see the glow of a skyline that obstructs my view of the sky and an interstate system that provides a speed a little too fast for a Sunday drive, I feel like a stranger. Neither really fit me like a glove anymore.

But the road in-between feels so good. In the years that I've been driving back and forth between TN & KS I've found a refuge in those 850 miles. There's something about looking out your window and not being within eyesight of anything you know. THere's something about the miles behind you that make you feel tired. And there's something about the miles ahead that give you hope. A hope that makes me think about where I'm going in real life everytime I make that drive. It used to be a college girl with an iPod and a cell phone she could only use after 9pm. So she'd drive a little too fast and turn the music up way too loud. Then it was a girl in love with a man who would drive for her. And there would be no music. But talking about life and love and all the years before they knew each other. And then it was a husband and wife (husband still doing all the driving) dreaming about where they'd be in a year...in 5 years....in 20 years. And remembering the days when life with each other wasn't always as beautiful. But yesterday it was a girl with her best friend and their husbands. And as we experienced those 850 miles together I couldn't help but think that there are a few less miles ahead and a few more miles behind than there used to be. And that made me feel right at home.

INTRO

My name is Nicolle Galyon. And I will post 1 video a day for the next 365 days. I will also pair a blog with each video.

Ok, I said it. And you heard me say it. So it’s real. And I’m committed. Now I HAVE to follow through.

WHY?

1. I’m a songwriter by day. But outside of what I get paid to do, I’m a writer. No box to fit it in. So it only makes sense that I would blog regularly. But I’ll tell you that I’ve jumped on and quickly off the blogging bandwagon like a a fad dieter. And it’s because I never had a focus. I believe that my best songwriting is done when I am: a) honest b) specific & c)focused & d) doing it everyday. And since blogging has never been any of those things before, I thought it was high-time to give it some honest, specific, focused attention everyday.

2. I am also a [very] amateur home –video producer. I love capturing the moments of my life that will never come around again. And, in all honesty, that is basically ALL of them. No day will ever be like today or tomorrow or yesterday again. So I have become extremely passionate about capturing these moments as frequently as possible (sometimes even to the dismay of my current company.)

3. I am living a story. I’m finishing up an incredible book right now called “A Million Miles In A 1000 Days”. Within the first few pages, the author Donald Miller touches on how little we actually remember from our lives. The book is actually about making your life a story rather than a series of random events. And I want to REMEMBER my story. Which leads to the fact that:

All of these things have attributed to this project. I will create a short video every day this year. They will vary in length, mood, topic, importance, and [unfortunately] entertainment value. But they will all be mine J Each video will be paired with a blog that is some way (hopefully) tied into the video. That will help me to keep my eyes open all day long to the details of my world; that will keep me writing a little something every night; and most importantly, it just might give me a little extrea incentive to do or notice something that is worth talking about.

Maybe 5 people will care. Maybe by the end of the year 5000 will care. But it’s going to be just as much fun to look back at this in 10 years either way. So, if you’re reading this….

WELCOME to THE FLIP PROJECT.