There's a Dawg frenzy outside!

OMG!! I can't even write a thing. I'm too excited about the Georgia/Florida game tomorrow! Saint Simons Island is buzzing with happy Georgia fans and I'm not about to sit at this laptop and be profound or nostalgic about something in my life... I've got to go join in on the fun!

Go Dawgs!

p.s. Did someone say it's Halloween?

Nothing

Thursday night's event ended. The Cloister's Oglethorpe Room was splendid, as is every room in the hotel, and all in all, everything was good. Later, I found myself at home outside letting my two of three energetic pooches romp around in the back yard, realizing I had nothing pressing to take care of ahead of me. I thought, as this was a rare occurance, "Okay, Beth, who do you need to call? Who should you catch up with that you haven't spoken to in a while? What should you do to make the most of this time?" I decided to put my blackberry back down on the bench and do nothing. My mind wasn't racing, my agenda wasn't full... for this moment. I just stood there. I could have found something to do that needed to be done, sure, but I felt appreciative of the wonderfully delicious piece of quiet that was in my mind. It wasn't completely quiet because I was thinking all of these words I am now typing, but compared to normal this was baby pool waves. No crashing, surging waters were beating against my cranium. I was still.

When my thoughts rested, my senses woke up. The nearby Tramici Restaurant's outdoor music became louder. I heard laughter from early bird Georgia fans celebrating next door, enjoying the entertainment. What I assume was crickets were chirping madly and my dog was snorting around in the dirt. I felt my own heart beat and the same breeze in my hair that was making the tree limbs rustle. I looked around me, nobody was there to distract me, so I looked up to find a clear black sky with stars that shined so brightly as they had no competition from street lights. This area is the dark part of the eastern coastline shown on Google Earth's "The Earth at Night" satellite photograph. If the Earth is a jack-o-lantern, Saint Simons Island is the part not carved. No lights peaking through here.

So, I have nothing more to say. Like I said, this was all I took in and I ignored my pattern of over thinking and analyzing life's most basic moments until they are complex, symbolic meanings for more. Moments of nothingness reveal everything life is all about. The real stuff, like heart beats and breath and night skies are enough when they are pure and simple. My new something in my calendar will now be to take time for nothing.

Freddy Kruger's loss, my gain

As you all know, I feel challenged by my closet. Times that by eighty and you now have an approximation of my angst toward my mother’s attic. The attic. It was the catalyst of many childhood memories.

In this spooky place upstairs, lurking over my parent’s bedroom, is where I feared Freddy Kruger lived. That might also have something to do with my dad. He frequently watched scary movies with me and then would, coincidentally, ask me to go to the attic and get some useless object for him because he decided he needed it right then. Being the very good and obedient daughter that I was, and still am, eh hem, I begrudgingly set my course up the staircase and into the dark, ominous upstairs. I would turn the light on and dash as fast as I could through the attic door, search frantically for the useless object, and zip right back out the way I came, never ever looking back because I was sure Freddy was on my heels. That’s when my dad, sneaky fellow, would pounce out of the shadows and grab me with his hand that was clawed and curled just like Freddy’s. It was horrific!

This room harbors my best grade school papers, notable ceramic creations and cutest outfits from childhood. I have memories galore here in this ‘room of everything and nothing’. Our keepsake toys are here. Paige and I would bring them up to this space when we were little to play freely and imagine that the same room that housed Freddy Kruger was magically a royal retreat or circus land. I, to this day, don’t walk to the edges of the room because for some reason I thought I would fall through the floor. So weird, I know, but I still keep my distance from the perimeter of the room.

This past weekend I tackled this attic and all that angst with a fury. I threw my hair back, my chin up, and my laziest looking clothes on and got my elbows dirty scouring around in this vacuum of Dunaway past. It sucked in everything we deemed halfway valuable. Time to exfoliate and eliminate.

And guess what…

Along the way I found some new treasures. My mom’s vintage clothing. Girls get ready!! If you have a similar space in your house, it is a gem! Not only will a voyage into an attic take you down memory lane, dig up buried laughable moments and help you feel organized after you ditch the junk, it is also a Vintage Boutique! My mom had the cutest dresses stored away and they, after laundering, will be perfect for wearing. They are a splash of Anthropologie and a dash of Jackie O. What a find. I found adorable dresses for not a cent that mean more to me than the most expensive; they’re priceless. Who knows how ole’ Freddy Kruger feels about my snatching away all his fashionable goodies, but I figure he owes me anyway.

Emily Dickinson knew a secret.

Tiger Woods was successful at age two. His success has continued to awe the world, not just his friends and family. He is extraordinary. And he’s not the only one.

Talented people are everywhere and we watch them, searching for parts of ourselves within them and their inspirations. At times, it gets heavy to bear. Having a purpose and achieving something significant to validate why we are here seems to be a common driving force in people, especially from our generation, Generation X, and those younger than us. Living, breathing, getting by- just not good enough. We need fulfilled dreams, everyday passions, and on a big ‘Puffy’ type of scale. I’ve heard numerous times that many people determine success by if they are featured on Oprah or not.

There is a poem written by Emily Dickinson that helps to relieve this pressure for me. This is for those of you who seek a break in being haunted by the pursuit of grandness. It is simple.


If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

~Emily Dickinson

A Paige in My Book

It was late and my husband was already in bed with the news on and his book open. I was ruffling around in clothes, deciding what to wear to a baby shower I was helping host back in my hometown of Moultrie, GA. My closet consistently proves to be a dragon I fight. It is ferocious and I need strength before entering. I love fashion but stuffing it all into a closet? Please! I need more space and that’s the truth!

My cell phone rang and I popped my head up like a ferret in the weeds. I scrambled, lunged and caught the call before the phone stopped ringing.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
It was my sister and we always go “Hey.” “Hey.”
Giggling she said, “You’ve got to hear this!” And she turned up her car radio full blast. I heard it loud and clear...

“It's Tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time It's Tricky...it's Tricky (Tricky) Tricky (Tricky)”

By this time my husband was looking up from his book with an expression that declared ‘I’m not surprised by anything you do anymore.’ You see, my sister and I had both turned our speakerphones on and I had proceeded to put on my own hip-hop freestyle performance. Not that he should’ve minded that right? Things like that is one of the reasons he fell in love with me, right? Surely.

Well, the fun didn’t end there, Funky Cold Medina immediately followed It’s Tricky and the party kept hoppin’ for me and my sister Paige. Just think back to this classic. How much fun is it to anticipate when Tone Loc says “Break It Down!”? By the end of our long distance fun my husband was just staring at me with not even bewilderment on his face and her husband had come out to her vehicle that was parked in her drive way bumping from the bass and piled high with three sleeping kids in the back!

Do you have someone you can do this with? I hope so. It feels really good.

My sister is this person for me. We have a basic understanding of one another. We share basic sameness. We stand with our arms crossed and our weight shifted to our left leg, often with our right foot propped on our left calf much like the yoga tree pose. We do this simultaneously and then see each other and quickly adjust so that we don’t look strange to other people. We say the same things at the same time and then laugh and say the same thing at the same time again. We sing sentences. When people that we know well, like our parents or husbands, ask us questions we sing the answers back to them emulating Disney musical moments. We pick up produce from fruit bins and then can’t put it back and choose another piece of fruit because we feel badly that we would hurt the feelings of the fruit sitting in our hand. We can’t let it feel discarded! We do many, many things in life that bond us and make us uniquely similar sisters.

On the flip side… we differ enormously. Paige has three children. I have three dogs. Paige’s foot is a size 9 and I wear a 5 and a half. As far as that goes, gee wiz, she’s 5’9” and I’m 5’1” shooting for 5’2” that should come any day now. I love being in cities like New York City. It makes me feel invigorated and inspired. Seeing all the people and ideas and creations while I walk down city streets in my bubble of anonymity makes me gloriously happy. Paige feels claustrophobic in that environment and craves wide-open spaces. She resides in Texas… so thinking about this sentence I’m writing makes me think that the Dixie Chicks hit the nail on the head with that song of theirs. My sister wants to live in a field with nothing around her but her land. Whereas she is laid back by nature, I’m annoyingly intense. When watching Billy Madison, she laughs at the shampoo vs. conditioner scene so hard she has herself in stitches and I am watching the movie with my head cocked trying to understand the humor. I, instead, choose to watch Paige laugh and laugh at that.

She has always let me shine. In home videos she stepped back while I hogged the screen time. She let me tag along at all her birthday parties. I am inevitably at the top of the group pyramid or at the end of the row of girls making some dramatic face to ruin the photograph. She tried like crazy to be the first follower on my blog page. She battled the website all morning, and after reading my first posting, said “I loved it!”… but warned me about cigarettes! I found myself being a KD in college just like she was. It was a way I could be myself and be like my big sister too.

Sisterhood, or any relationship that bonds two people together, is a treasure. We are goofy, we vent, and we need no explanations unless we choose to explain. In my life’s book I have a Paige. It’s dog-eared. I always turn to her first.

The Reincarnation of a Gypsy Queen

I get the itch sometimes… to move that is. I just want to get out of town, spread my wings and see where the wind blows me. At times I wish I could literally do this. It seems the only way to truly know where I’m meant to be. I want to just observe from my place up high and let destiny choose my course. I get tired of thinking about where I am in the world. And I despise feeling stuck. There is no feeling of safety for me by staying in the same spot. I want to see it all. I want to plant my feet on the dirt of many places.

My terror is not taking risks that may lead me to strange places. It’s of being kept in one place with no escape. Like a firefly caught in a mason jar, I panic at being able to see the world beyond my transparent walls and not touch it, with someone having been so kind to just pop a few holes in my lid to keep me from completely suffocating.

When my husband first took me to Europe it was our one year anniversary of dating. I remember landing in Paris and being introduced to not only a new place in the world, but a new place within myself. I found a feeling of familiarity with the smells, the sounds, the air and the way the low clouds moved so quickly across the sky. I saw, not just felt, time pass as I studied the sky. I felt I had memories of this place that I knew I didn’t really have. But, knowing and feeling are two different things and I always, always take feeling’s side.

I walked through fields of lavender and saw hidden castles in the French countryside, some of which were only remnants of a grand estate ravaged by war. Even these leftovers were more beautiful than brand new creations I saw at home. I touched a stone wall in a field that was no telling how old. I felt it and thought of what that wall may have seen over its years. This stone wall, after all, was probably older than my country. It was defining, this trip to France.

In Versailles, I walked hand in hand with my guy and got a fit of fright. I heard sounds and saw shadows on the cobblestone streets and felt as though someone was chasing me. At the same time I was feeling this, I was calmly analyzing the waves of emotions flooding me. I was two people at once. I was happy here in this beautiful place that I felt fondly connected to and also felt I had a memory of being scared. I think my soul must have landed here once. I can see why. It is a special place, even the sunlight looks differently here.

Since that first introduction to life on the other side of the pond, I’ve been able to absorb some other cultures that are mesmerizing. They are out there waiting to be relished while I dream about them during my monotonous tasks of everyday. It makes me stir and fidget and I yearn to move! Like in the movie Chocolat, my north wind blows and I can’t fight the calling to roam the world. I must be the reincarnation of a gypsy queen. If gypsies look like Johnny Depp’s Roux, that makes total sense in my mind!

The Glory of Nordstrom

Given the current set of circumstances in the world, does this mean retail therapy is out the window?

In defense of the female mind, it really does work.  There is a magical vapor that Nordstrom must emit from their entrance.  After walking through glass doors, marble shiny floors welcome one to the fresh scent of roses and citrus and whatever else Celine Dion has blended into her newest bottle of parfum shaped like a woman's hip.  The eyes open to clean neat aisles of red patent leather stilettos and studded knee high boots.  Not far away is the coffee bar adding all the more pleasure to this indulgent waltz through a place that must be called Tara.  I swear I see Scarlett sitting on the escalator forehand to forehead declaring that the troubles of the world can wait until tomorrow.  What she meant to add to that line was, "Right now I have to go shopping!"

The pianist on duty plays a melody of Somewhere Over the Rainbow and in my peripheral vision I see lacy lingerie and those thigh high panty hose and garters I've always wanted to give a go.  Chloe and Chanel are hypnotizing and I'm now declaring this is my True Religion.  Ah, fashion!  Glamour and self-expression and a basic therapeutic concentration on design.  And then the decision is made.  I must get it!  Done!

Now, with my pretty paper bag and tissue presented to me from around the counter, face to face, I feel special.  I'm the new proud owner of whatever is in my bag.  I must now plan something to wear it to.  One call to my best friend and that dilemma will be solved.  There is always a new restaurant to try and get all dolled up for.

But, recently there has been no Nordstrom trip in my day planner.  For two reasons that is so.  One, there is no Nordstrom in the small town of Saint Simons Island.  Nevertheless, its in my dreams and when I do get to Atlanta, I spend oodles of time there making up for my absence.  Two, with all the stress and anxiety surrounding financial issues at large, the fun is sucked out of Nordstrom like a helium balloon in the hands of well... any and every man I know.  Gone!  And all that's left is a very high-pitched elfish voice saying "you shoulda got those Jimmy Choos while you coulda!"

So, what should us gals do when we can't afford to be tempted by the glory of Nordstrom?  Reinvent our not-so-shabby-anyway wardrobes?  Or head to Marshall's instead?  Maybe embrace 'simplification' as a life theme?  As much as I'd like to forget my troubles until another day, this is probably the way to save the gold on the other side of piano man's rainbow.

     

Fall

It's fall outside.  It's finally here.  I've never been more thrilled about the changing season.  Last year I was in Anguilla, British West Indies and had been there all year long living in one big season.  Summer.  I'm not complaining about living in "paradise"... but, there is something about that first sniff of East Coast fall air that can't be replaced.  When the brisk rustling of tree branches shake their leaves and when college anthems hail something happens inside me that makes me excited and cozy all at the same time.  It feels balanced.

 It is a time full of possibility and renewal.  I take deep breaths in the fall.  I get excited about the upcoming holidays and all the gathering of friends and family whether it be for football games on Saturday or Thanksgiving food comas in November.  I get to think in layers in the fall.  I can wear three shirts at once and when I walk out the door in the morning I never know which layer will be showing when I get home!  Appreciation of the outdoors is at an all time high.  Winter hibernation is just around the corner and soon we'll all be indoors deciding what our new selves will be like next year after we get through living to the max this fall!

Through all this excitement I had a downer... a real doozey of a downer.  I saw a butterfly on the ground and I picked it up.  He was batting his wings but was weak and so instead of throwing him back on the pavement, I just held him.  I literally sat and held this butterfly until he died.  And that was sad and made me think of the fall a bit differently.  As much of a necessity as it is to have a cycle of life and a cycle of seasons, it still isn't easy to see things dwindle down and go away.  Butterflies don't flutter, whip-poor-wills don't call, and flowers say no thanks, too cold.

 My butterfly had a proper burial.  We had a bonding moment and I couldn't discard him with no thought.  It made me think of that Death Cab for Cutie song, What Sarah Said.  "Love is watching someone die."  So I now loved my little butterfly and decided to put him to rest in my favorite plant, Promitto (meaning to surrender in Latin).  I thought it was somewhat poetic and if I were a butterfly I would like it.

So, it turns out that some of my deep breaths of fall are in fact sighs of sadness.  Facing life for what it is, the good and the bad, the life and the death... at least there's still football!

Be Bold

So, maybe you'll come to know me without a formal introduction.  I'll call you friend already.  And if I am a writer at all, in a good sense of the word, you will draft some sort of opinion about me, my character, my humor, my sensibilities, and hopefully my intellect along the way of this new blogging effort that I hope will become infectious.

"Hello!" by the way.  I shouted that to you in my head.

In Saint Simons Island today, my temporary place in the world, I had a monumental moment.  It started out ordinary.  I, in ordinary fashion, woke up and performed the tasks that get my pups fed and loved on, myself bathed and presentable, and my car started to drive me the half mile to work.  Please, no guilt trip, there is a marsh between me and my office and really, do you expect me to ride a bike in heels?  In my office, I was thinking ordinary thoughts.  And it was an ordinary circumstance that caused my mind to drift and eventually pounce on the exceptional words that made, at least on this day, the whole world seem clear!

Charlie Sheen did it.  "Who?" you say.  CHARLIE SHEEN.  Yes, the same tabloid figurehead we see everyday playing tug of war with Denise over those two precious children.  Same guy.  I remembered, as I sat at my desk deciding whether I was hungry or not, his casual remarks about his choice in presidential candidates, and his snide remarks about who he was not voting for.  I started thinking about how easily some people insult those that do not share their political views and how this becomes an unattractive habit making those that partake look silly and arrogant.  In my head, I thought, it may not just be celebrities that are like this but they get a 'voice' that others do not get by having people gloat over them when they arrive at their promo parties.  Imagine: microphones being slung in your face to catch every utterance that comes out of your mouth, and no matter what you say, someone giggles and snorts like a farm animal just because they are awed by your mere acknowledgment of their question.  This could make a person think they are different right?  Special maybe.  Because everyone is treating them differently.

What makes some people arrogant and smirky and happy and know-it-alls?

I don't know.

But that led me in this direction... spider walk with me now...   

Happy people tend to be people that do what they want to do.  Like celebrities.  Like Charlie Sheen.  Not like those of us who do what they have to do.  Big difference.  The two perspectives don't relate.

Upon realizing this I also realized that I am a person who wakes up and thinks of what I have to do and what I should do instead of what I want to do and what I could do.  Ah ha!  Life is automatically more fun when I think "what do I want to do right now?"  Forget the shoulds.

In my case, and I am not in any way recommending this, I wanted to go be exhilerating and rebellious and smoke a cigarette!  I had been thinking about one non-stop since February and I am not a smoker.  But I wanted to smoke one and wouldn't let myself because I shouldn't.  What harm is one cigarette?  Not quite the same as one jumping off of the San Fran Golden Gate!  So, I excused myself from my desk, from my office, and I went and bought a pack of cigarettes, where the clerk gave me a lighter! (that was such a sign!)  And, on the way back to my car, I actually wanted to gleefully skip!  I felt so naughty and full of life.

I promptly drove to the beautiful Wesley Monument, and began my leisurely walk and puff amongst the oak trees while I crossed my threshold into my new way of thinking.  This was my moment of realization.  I looked through the scrambled tree branches accessorized with moss and framing the forever blue sky beyond.  I laughed at this because it couldn't have been more beautiful.  I put myself in perspective and laughed out loud at how silly and strict I have been while I have sacrificed many, many enjoyable occasions due to a false sense of responsibility or duty.  It was monumental, pivotal, and because of Charlie.

Because of that scarce puff of a cigarette I merrily buzzed up the idea of a blog.  It occured to me that it was something I wanted.  I had never thought of it before really.  But I guess my blood vessels restricted flow in my brain and I discovered a lost want.  A blog.

So here I am, Beth Cassini, your new blog, not to advocate a ridiculous puff of tobacco, but to say Be Bold!  Live for Want-tos and Coulds and not Have-tos and Shoulds and be sure to note the importance of arrogant, smirky, happy people.  They might just sheen the light on your life.