THIS is how I feel tonight.

My head is everywhere tonight. I’m feelin’ Nashville. I’m thinking about L.A. I’m watching Sportscenter. Photoshop and Illustrator are open, and I’ve got a stylus plugged into my USB port ready to draw…but I’m typing in Word knowing that I’ll copy and paste it into my blog when I’m done.

Amanda is to my left and I’ve got a glass of wine to my right and even though I’ve got more work due in the next two weeks than I’ve had in a while, things are GOOD.

My first semester of grad school will be DONE in two weeks, and I’m pretty psyched about that, but I need to light a fire under my brain’s ass to get more onto my assignments. Thanksgiving break was great and much needed, but it was nothing but a TEASE of how things will be when the semester is over. It was the calm before the storm of finals, and the last quarter at the bottom of my pocket at the arcade that’s discovered as the continue screen ticks down to zero.

I learned all of this as an undergrad. Thanksgiving is a breather, but “Drew, you can’t get comfortable yet.” Doesn’t matter. I fell for this trick five times before, and I fell for it again over this past long weekend. My head is bouncing between how much we’ve done this semester and what I’m gonna do after May without focusing on the NOW…which I desperately NEED to pay attention to.

But May is only six months away. In fact, six months from TODAY, I’ll be 11 days removed from graduation. Again. And honestly, I think I was more secure in this position as an undergrad, because, HEY, worse case scenario if I don’t find a job for a while: GO TO GRAD SCHOOL.

But what about after GRAD SCHOOL? Whew. Working on that one, and thinking about places I could see myself when I’m done, job (hopefully), internship (OK), or no job (SHIT!)…

Three years ago, as I had six months left of undergrad, I said, NEW YORK. I had it all planned out. I was gonna go to New York and I was gonna MAKE IT!

Instead, I went to Colorado for a month, met some amazing people, and toured the east coast following Mayer and hangin’ with friends for a few months before I settled into my parents’ house, started dating an amazing girl, and began working at a great restaurant.

School started up again after two years, and now that I’m in the hypothetical “Where do you wanna go?” stage again, the locations have changed a bit, but I’ve narrowed it down to three:

Austin. Nashville. Los Angeles.

I could see myself in any one of the three, and I feel like my vibes would TOTALLY match up with them. Austin and L.A. are hotbeds for my major, and Nashville is just amazing in its own way. I’d be happy in any of these places, and I’d feel like I was at least SHOOTING at my dream job[s] (whatever they are, exactly)…

But bring the daydreaming back to right NOW, and I’ve got finals coming up. And then another semester. Can’t really measure it in time, because it flies and it’s never concrete. Good days soar, bad ones are like swimming through jelly.

So we’ll measure it in METAPHOR. I’ve got two mountains to climb before May. I’m SURE more will pop up between now and then, but the biggest and tallest are FINALS (in the next two weeks) and SPRING SEMESTER. Whatever else comes up will seem like a walk in the woods, and I’ll get through it…even if I need a lil oxygen in the end.

So between now and Austin or LA or Nashville or WHEREVER, I’ll keep truckin’.

You know I always do.

D.

So long, Bobby. We'll miss you.

The Braves were eliminated from the NLDS Monday night, but that wasn’t the real story. While reaching the end of the season is always rough, it was harder this year because it meant the end of Bobby Cox as manager.

In 25 years of managing the team, Cox lead the Braves to 2,149 wins and 15 straight division titles, including winning the 1995 World Series. He loved Atlanta and his players so much that he’d fight and stand up against every bad call, leading to 158 ejections in his career—first on the all-time list. But he was never bad-tempered. He had heart, and usually got fired up to prevent his players from getting kicked out of a game.

For me, Bobby was always a link to my grandfather. Granddaddy was the reason I loved the Braves. Growing up, I collected the cards and tried to play for a year or two. I faded numerous Braves hats and loved being a fan. However, I didn’t really watch the game until I was a little older.

I remember the moment I started to truly get into the Braves. We’d go to the beach every summer with my grandparents and family, and of course, my grandfather had control of the TV remote. These were the Turner hay-days, when the Braves were on TV six nights a week.

We’d finish dinner and Granddaddy would take his seat on the couch and turn it to baseball. My cousins and I knew this would happen every night, and we’d get bummed because we would want to play movies or watch cartoons, but we knew we were there because of him and respected what he wanted to watch. He’d go to bed kind of early, and we’d get the TV from there.

We got used to this trend over the years, and we’d continually repeat the cycle. Dinner--Braves--Granddaddy to bed--TV control. After a while though, instead of just waiting for control of the remote, I sat down and started to watch. I absorbed the lights on the green of the field and the sound of the bat and learned the players’ names and positions. I became more than just a kid with the faded “A” on my hat. I became a fan sitting next to my grandfather, and it was a great bond.

Granddaddy passed away July 1, 2001. It was my first experience with loss, and it was hard (Of course, it’s never easy). The night before his service, the Braves trailed four runs to the Phillies halfway through the fourth inning. I was down, and the Braves were down. But then Atlanta scored. And they scored again. And again. They went from four down to batting in the runs and winning the game by seven! It was a great game, and it lifted my spirits.

The next day, we said our goodbyes to Granddaddy. When it was my turn, I looked at him, and all I could think of was how peaceful he looked. I got my voice to rise out of my throat and told him about the great Braves comeback the night before. It was our bond, and I know he would’ve been proud. I had to tell him, but I probably didn’t need to, because I’m sure he was watching from somewhere that night.
The Braves went on to win the division again that year, but they entered the playoffs with the lowest win total of the other playoff teams. They lost to the Diamondbacks in five games in the NLCS, and the season was over, but my love for the Braves and the tie to my grandfather lived on.

Of course, I’ve continued to love the Braves since, and I’ve been lucky enough to make it to a few games in Atlanta. Through it all, Bobby Cox has been on the bench in the corner of the dugout. Looking at him, hat low and sun-worn face, he always reminded me of my grandfather, and seeing him always took me back to sitting on the couch and watching the game with Granddaddy.

Last night was Bobby Cox’s last game as manager of the Braves. Besides Chipper Jones, he’s the last Brave on the team who was part of the organization when my grandfather watched them play six nights a week. His impact on the game will be felt for years to come, and while the Braves will move on, it will be different. I know, though, that just like the bond I have with my grandfather, his legacy will live on forever.

Thanks for everything, Bobby. We’ll miss you.

Drew.