First Aussie Annie

*Pours glass of wine*

It's only appropriate the title of this initial post from Down Under is abbreviated, as are many words in the Aussie vernacular. Brekky (breakfast). Chrissy (Christmas). Woolys (Woolworths). Hence, my one month ''annie.''

It's been strange to go from Nashville's bare trees and cold Autumn weather to Sydney's hot, humid summer, which reminds me of Tennessee in August, but with an ocean breeze. And, like Music City, there are even beautiful thunderstorms that surprise the blue skies. I'd like to say I feel right at home, though home is 9,200 miles, or 14,800 kilometers, away.

Sydney welcomed me with endless cafes and vibrant purple trees. My very first sights of the Oprah House and Harbour Bridge hit me in the face, like a twitch before falling asleep. They instantly awakened me. Prior to that, they were merely structures I had only witnessed in photos, and here they were, within walking distance. Magnificent.

Since, my dear friends have introduced me to their circles. I've experienced the most beautiful wedding in the Hunter Valley (congratulations Chandlers!!); some phenomenal Aussie wines, including my new favorite: Semillon; randomly ended up at the cutest AirBnB on a farm that produces honey (in fact, the owner purchased three queen bees that very day, for $90 AUD); and, I saw my first kangaroo in between some grapevines. Much to my dismay, the roo did not hop as I had envisioned, but lethargically swung from tail to feet. Still a spectacular sight.

That same week, I joined three sweet friends on a trip to Queensland. First stop: Port Douglas. We flew to Cairns, rented a car, and drove up the picturesque coast toward the Great Barrier Reef. Of course, we stopped along the way to witness a large crocodile eat an entire chicken in one bite at Hartley's Crocodile Adventures.

And adoringly watched koalas nap in the trees. No, eucalyptus does not put them to sleep, but the travel eventually caught up to us.

We ended the day napping ourselves on perhaps the one beach that does not use the metric system in Australia: the Four-Mile Beach. I guess it sounds better than the 6.437 kilometer beach...

Three full days of adventure commenced, which included driving on the left side of the road. I know better than to attempt that. The backseat suited me well! We hiked the Upper Daintree Rainforest; ran from a huge black snake; bushwalked around Mossman Gorge; and lastly snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef, with my sinus infection was so far from my mind as I entered this new world.

It is rightfully one of the wonders of this beautiful world. It was vibrant. So alive. And, even though we were 90 miles from shore, the reef sits just below the surface. It's so shallow in some areas that you can't even swim over it. Still, navigating around the towers of beautiful coral created underwater tunnels and caves that were home to sea turtles, parrot fish, sting rays, sharks and little Nemos. It was truly breathtaking to the point that I continued to swallow that precious sea water.

And so now, I reluctantly count down the next 11 months, as I promise to embrace all of the annies, brekkies, Chrissies and let's be real... the Aussies too.

A Decided Decision

My heart is palpitating. My breaths are increasingly apparent. I can't sit still. I want this day to be over, yet I don't ever want the clock to strike three.

Today is decision day, unless life's most difficult decisions are already made for us... unless we unknowingly make it ourselves. If we really want something, we can achieve it. But, how do we know what we truly want?

When an opportunity presents itself at a time when you thought you had everything figured out, do you drop your plans and turn around, or do you put your head down and drive on? At times like these, I scour the world for signs, any arrow that will point me in a certain direction.

But the only sign I discovered was the one that blindsided me.

I thought I had my future figured out for the next year: a one-way ticket to Australia with Visa approval to work. However, a job opportunity has not only revealed itself, but it called to me. And it all comes down to the interview. Worst-case scenario, it doesn't work out and I embark on an adventure to the Land Down Under, but could that also the best-case scenario?

A "Pros and Cons" list is scribbled over the last two weeks in my planner. The decision has fogged my mind, forced me to create moments of solace, and encouraged me to read Malcom Gladwell's ''Outliers.'' But ultimately, the question persists: Is the decision really up to me?

In my heart, I know the flood of disappointment will be devastating for one of these outcomes, but I am also aware that I unknowingly have made the decision all along. I just have to hope that the feeling on the other side of the world, or the feeling in my own backyard, is mutual.

NOTE: Written on October 20; published on December 20, in Australia.

Totems, Fans & Burned Skin

That is Bonnaroo. Tennessee's music festival on a farm in Manchester. It's everything you imagine... hot, dusty, and the words of festival-goers dangle heavily in the air.

The first group of people who I befriend ask: "What is your totem?"

My totem? Yes, they say, your totem. As in a totem pole? Yes, that's right. A totem. An elevated, distinguishable object carried by the group leader so members of that party can find one another. Cases in point: the Terminator, and Lionel-Waldo.

Unfortunately, I did not have a totem; neither did the group I was with, which explains why we left the campsite with 10 people, and ended the night with three.

I went to the festival not knowing anyone. It was a fabulous, care-free-free bird decision inspired by the lovely, independent concert-goer and fellow music-lover, Caitlin Bartley.

Friendships were formed at Bonnaroo - and love was in the air - so long as you had a fan, a spray bottle, or Starbursts in your purse.  Then, everyone around you loved you as if they had never felt water on their tongue or back, or tasted food on their lips.

Naps were necessary. I chose shade...

... But others seemed to intertwine their limbs in direct sunlight on the straw-dirt-grass covered pathways, leaving the scent of burned skin lingering in the air... No. Wait. Those were the outhouses, used by 80,000 people.

The night ended with an Amish donut, which was $4 well spent. The glaze still dripping off of what appeared and tasted like a giant Krispy Kreme, but better.

Since, I've said my goodbyes to the kind folks who took me in. I've retired my sandals. Washed my feet seven times. And, am still trying to get the braid out of my hair. My voice is still hoarse from singing too loud to Mumford & Sons and Hozier. My arms are heavy from dancing until 4 AM. And, had I been wearing a Fitbit, I likely would have acquired the maximum amount of steps on that wristband... It was one night of glory, surrounded by good vibes, high-fives, peace and love. A spectacular dream with a '70s filter, where for this one day, there was not a care in the world.

"Breaking Good"

To die of old age means one fully lived; but to die of cancer feels as though life has been cut short. It might be the binge-watching of "Breaking Bad" that has ultimately led to the realization of life, and how I would hope to handle the diagnosis of a terminal disease - and to me, there are two ways to deal with it, one of which is inspired by a close family friend who recently lost his battle to cancer at 51 years old. 

Though I am only halfway through the second season, Walt has clearly taken his cancer diagnosis to the extreme. He chose isolation rather than the comfort of family; fear instead of hope; and turned to crime instead of facing the fight. Walt hides his secret life of making meth in a mobile lab, inevitably to pay for treatment and leave his family well-off, but leaves his family wondering why the man of the household continuously disappears. 

A former soccer coach, best friend's dad, Dad's best friend, and loving father and husband, was cracking jokes up until he passed away in January. Doctors gave him 6 months to live when he was diagnosed with cancer last year. Instead he lived another six thereafter. Steve always had a smile on his face; he never looked worried or scared - or if he did, he never did show it. He fought, day to day, and he remained strong for his two daughters and wife. A month before he passed, Steve assured us he would walk his daughter down the aisle, and to see his youngest graduate from college. He gave all of us hope - and furthermore, taught us all about forgiveness.

Maybe I was naive, maybe I chose not to accept it - maybe I was a little like Walt when I first heard of Steve's diagnosis. I knew Steve's humor, his determination, and his family's support would get him through the cancer - and I know it did. It was a fight that should have been lost long ago, but Steve proved everyone wrong. And, he showed us even in the darkest of times, there's still room to smile.

RIP Steven B. Neal.

Hungry for happiness

It's that defining moment, where the stress of being a struggling twenty-something-year-old turns into comfort. It's like seeing the light for the first time. Relaxed. Care-free. And a clear mind. Now, that could very well be attributed to my extremely low blood pressure at work today. It seems as if I blacked out for several moments here and there -- think Will Ferrell in "Old School" during the debate. Needless to say, everything turned out just fine; it's nothing that a five-hour nap, plus an Eggo waffle with Nutella couldn't fix.

As I approach my quarter-of-a-century birthday next month, I'd like to think I'm not the only 24-year-old wandering down a path with no clear direction in sight. Yet, for the first time, I know who I want next to me. That might be most frightening for a free-spirited girl with a dream to see the world.

It's the little things that inspire us, and those things we should embrace: meeting a stranger who helped you find not one, but three pairs of shoes at Macy's; reading a life-altering article in Time magazine, or that old library book you just can't put down; it's feeling the sunlight for the first time since winter started; picking up the phone to call an old friend, or just tell a loved one you're thinking about them; finally, it's capturing the gaze of a sweet Arkansan in a new town, and opening your heart to love -- thanks to a college graduate, eager for change, and hungry for happiness.

Recipe for a Friday night

It's that kind of night. You're feeling relaxed, at ease, but still want to accomplish something. In that case, accomplish peace of mind and a good night sleep. Could it be that I'm just getting old? Regardless, thank me later.

Before you start drinking (okay, not getting that old), factor picking up these ingredients into your day.

1 bell pepper

Ground beef

Can chopped tomatoes

Red pepper flakes

Shredded cheese

Chocolate chip cookie ingredients -- only half

flour, sugar, brown sugar, egg, crisco, vanilla, baking soda, salt, chocolate chips

Pandora

2 bottles of cheap wine -- only one is necessary, 2nd needed depending on your movie choices

2 red box movies -- one intense drama; the other "romcom" or just comedy. End on a happy note and so will you.  

Start by cracking open that bottle of wine. Can't go wrong with a Cab.

Now, prepare the ground beef, add seasoning to taste; empty grease; add canned tomatoes & red pepper flakes. Cut out top of bell pepper, sprinkle shredded cheese in bottom, layer with ground beef mixture then finish with sprinkled cheese on top. Cover with tinfoil, bake @ 350 for 1 hour. 

Meanwhile, start movie number one -- the intense drama. My pick: In the Land of Blood & Honey

After an hour, and a couple glasses of wine later, enjoy your fancy feast. Depending on the movie, you might not be able to finish eating. War in Bosnia = Loss of appetite. 

Post-movie number one, recover. Finish that third glass of wine. Wipe your eyes, text someone and tell them how fantastic that film by Angelina Jolie was -- who cares if she stole Brad Pitt, damn can she make a movie. 

Put in film number two -- the "romcom," comedy, or anything non-violent that could make you smile. Pick numero dos: Larry Crowne

So far it's moving slow, and now your sweet tooth is forcing you back into the kitchen. 

Begin phase two by turning up Pandora, Eagles station; you won't be disappointed. Start the famous Nestle Toll House recipe, only half the ingredients necessary. Let's face it, one half will actually go in the oven, the other half will be devoured before it can get there. 

Finish glass number five. Woops, must have missed a couple, but not enough to burn dessert.

Eat one, maybe two cookies. You had too much dough. 

Back to the couch, finish that "romcom" satisfied. By the end you'll be ready for a soft pillow. Not only that, you'll wake up tomorrow morning thinking everything was all but a dream. 

By Saturday, you'll be ready to entertain -- with chocolate chip cookies and more wine. Then maybe you'll be ready to hit the town. 

Serendipity

serendipity [ser-uhn-dip-i-tee] noun: an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident. 

I get inspired easily; well, I call it inspiration, others say I'm "easily-distracted." But it works for me. I can multi-task and do more, then eventually pick up what I'm doing an hour later. And now, a few months later, it's already our three-month anniversary as a Nashvillian.

After being in the 23-year-old limbo stage of life, this place is starting to feel like home. It took me one year, more than 2,000 miles, and Darwin. It was pretty much survival at one point... But I got a phone call one Wednesday afternoon in September, and then an interview at a news station. I had two days to catch up on every current event and every local issue; and two days to deliver the best responses in interview history. It was more terrifying than studying for a college final. C's get degrees in school. You either pass or fail in an interview. 

Yet, the whole time was a thrill. The interview lasted about five hours, and now I'm officially a part of the WSMV team. Still, I wonder how my boss shuffled through all the resumes and cover letters to find mine. So lately, I've been inspired by serendipity -- also my favorite movie. 

Inspired to make a difference: Prominent Nashvillians and leaders were inducted into the Country Music Walk of Fame last weekend, including Alan Jackson, and WSMV's very own Dan Miller. These ordinary people made music and history, while giving back to the people in this great city, as well as the nation. It's no wonder they call it the "Volunteer State." With the holidays coming around, it's the perfect time to get involved. I see myself playing chess with an 86-year-old woman named Janice at the local senior center. 

Inspired to make music: You know you're hanging out with a group of musicians when the night ends at 3 AM with one person playing the guitar, another plucking a banjo and another playing the fiddle. I either need to take up the piano again (I can only play "Heart & Soul") or truly pursue the drums and flute combo that was a fallback only 90 days ago. Currently looking up piano lessons. 

Inspired to learn: Each day is a learning experience. When it comes to the new gig, it could be adding a fullscreen shot with live video to a story, taking viewers' pictures and turning them into a graphic for breaking news, or even finding out something new about my coworkers. It's a priceless work-day that hardly seems like work; it's more of an adrenaline rush. When it comes to life, it's learning to open up and open my heart for the first time. And it's a beautiful thing.