Archive by Author | Taylor Graham

In Defense of A Small Town, or How I Learned to Wobble

Since moving home, I’ve spent a lot of time being jealous of my friends and their glamorous locations.  DC, New York, LA, even Williamsburg (the quaint college town that it is) are all meccas of culture compared to my small town.  And sometimes I get a little down about the lack of museums, cool concerts and comedy venues.  But mostly, I’ve realized I just have to be creative if I want to stay entertained.  Living in a small town as a young (not so) professional does not have to equal social suicide.  You just gotta be brave.  Being brave for me meant venturing past the one bar my high school friends and I ever went to.  It meant befriending the kids from the other high school in town.  It meant learning to Wobble…

My first journey outside the realm of my usual activity led me to Bluefox, the pool hall on the outskirts of town that I’d never been to but heard kind of sketchy things about. The first time I went to this pool hall, I was scared.  Mostly because:

  1. I’d never been to a pool hall.
  2. I didn’t really know the people I was meeting there.  Some crazy girl from work told me to go, and in general, new people and places make me a little anxious.
  3. People were doing choreographed dances to songs I didn’t know.
  4. There were lots of beards and leather.  Those things are inherently scary.
  5. I was the only person wearing a cardigan.  Also frightening.

But despite my worries, I had a good time.  And before I knew it, I met some more new people and explored some of the other social options Winchester has to offer.  And now I am not afraid when I go to the pool hall anymore!  This is because:

  1. I’m getting kind of ok at playing pool aka I’m pretty much a shark these days.
  2. The people I met are pretty great.  They’re real country and like doing things like bon fires and skinny dipping, but I like it.  Sometimes I feel like I’m in a country music video which is neat.
  3. I found out that on Tuesday nights, Jerry the Bartender (a very good dancer and very gay man) teaches the steps to these dances so you can be ready to dance on Sunday night with everyone (apparently Sunday night is a popping night at Bluefox! Who knew?!).  Because of Jerry,  I learned how to Wobble!  I now break it out at any possible occasion.  (See video if you yourself are interested in Wobbling).
  4. Beards don’t scare me anymore because I’m now dating one of those bearded men.  I have learned to embrace them (not the men, but their beards.  Although, I guess I do embrace a bearded man).  The leather I’m still a little iffy about.
  5. Ok, my friend still calls out what she describes as my “Yacht Chic” wardrobe as being a little inappropriate.  But like I said, I still can’t commit to a leather vest.

Achieving Goals!

In the theme of New Years resolutions and goals, I will tell you all a little success story of mine.

Since quitting my real person job and moving back in with my parents, I thought I could use my sudden abundance of time to start taking better care of my body.  For those of you unaqquainted with my habits, you should know that this is quite a feat, as my diet has typically been made up of a large amount of the Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell dollar menu, and that I only went to the gym in college to play intermural basketball or to climb on the rock wall.  And that only happened, like, 4 times.

So despite years of bad habits working against me, I decided I was going to lose those lbs I’d packed on since I’d left for college.  In my attempt to reach this goal, I realized I needed to make some changes.  I got a dog, in hopes that I would walk it (I don’t). I spent hours deciding which gym to join (I haven’t).  But despite these setbacks, I have manage to actually lose some weight.  And I didn’t even notice! Until today…

Today, the 68 year old dishwasher at the restaurant where I am employed walked up to me, and began, as he always does, to speak to me, rapidly, in Spanish.  This would be fine, if I understood a word of Spanish. I do not.

Our conversation went something like this:

Grandpa (Also for some creepy reason, everyone calls this man “Grandpa”): Thrajdke ajsowe dsalkjfa  fasjdflkj asdjfasf  SPANISH SPANISH SPANISH kjfa asdfjslfkj dfas jsfd al” 

Me: “Grandpa, you know I don’t speak Spanish,  I can’t understand you.  I took French remember? Lo ciento!? No comprendo?! YO NO SAY?!”

Grandpa then starts gesturing with his arms while still rambling in Spanish.  He points at me (mostly my mid-region), then holds his hands apart real wide, then brings them in, then points to me.  This happens repeatedly, while I, in a bizarro game of charades, try to guess what exactly he’s trying to say about me to me.  

Eventually we reach this:

Me: “What Grandpa?  Are you saying that I was fat? But now I’m not?”

Grandpa: “Si, si!” (Nods and smiles and continues to gesture and point)

Me: “Ok. Thanks.”

Thanks to Grandpa, today I realized that I’d reached a goal without even trying!  I think that’s a good lesson to take away.  Sometimes, it’s just better to not even try.

PS. I’m pretty sure the secret to my disappearing figure is that I drink a lot of Five Hour Energies, then lose my appetite for days!  Or maybe it’s just the new pants I got.  In any case, Grandpa thinks I’m skinny.  And that’s all that really matters, right?

Con amor,


And finally, a fifth introduction.

Hello, internet world.  I am Taylor and I will be the Winchester (look it up) correspondent.

Like my friends Gen and Ben, I am a recent college graduate, and while they will be chronicling their adventures in exciting, new cities, I will be recounting my experiences of returning to my hometown and back to the open arms of my parents.

After graduating a semester early from college, I spent a couple months honing my diaper changing skills as a preschool teacher in Williamsburg, while I waited for the rest of my friends to graduate.   That was pretty fun, but eventually everyone left to go on to new adventures, so I decided I had to move on to new adventures too!  So obviously I moved back in with my parents, back to the small town I grew up in.

In all seriousness, moving back has been great.  And that’s what I’ll be writing about: how to survive the familiar landscapes of your childhood as a (mild) adult.  While my experiences will probably definitely be less cultured than my urban counterparts, they will most likely be equally as drunk (I’m looking at you, Gen), with probably as many embarrassing stories (again, you Gen) and hopefully as endearing.

So get ready for some awesome stuff, guys.  Seriously. It’s gonna be cool.

I think.