Tour, Pace, & Finish the Race

I recently did another Southeastern tour.  I drove from Edenton, NC to Atlanta, GA to Brookhaven, MS to Moultrie, GA to Vidalia, GA back to Moultrie, GA to Atlanta, GA and then home- to Edenton, NC.  Yes, it did make me dizzy.

The reason for the trip? Ginny.  She got married and a beautiful bride she did make.  That's a funny way of saying she was a beautiful bride.  I have design imprints from events and the imprint from this event was a romantic, shabby-chic, moonlit night with a pop of modern, peach and white, round paper lanterns.  In this night stood a lovely lady in a soft white gown with copper colored waves of hair falling around her shoulders and reflections of light-filled happiness twinkling in her brown eyes.  Virginia Caroline is married.  Happily.

After the weekend of family fun and after a long drive east to Georgia I made another trip.  I went to Vidalia, Georgia, home of a famously sweet onion, to meet with a former English professor.  He looks as I remember and is, in a masculine way, elegant in nature.  He has a proud posture and dresses in a way that is perfect for a man of the English language.  It is exactly as you imagine, easily smart with a quiet formality.  This man is dear to me and I hadn't seen him in quite a while.  I quickly remembered how deep of a pool his mind is and that to jump in is humbling to say the least. When speaking with him I am skimming the surface of that well of knowledge, going under to look around and coming back up to gasp for air.  I realize how dumb I really am.  Being with him is like watching 'Good Will Hunting'.  I beg to be smart.  So, I have five books that he gave me, two of which are collected poems he wrote.  He also gave me This Side of Paradise and The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald and A Handbook To Literature that is remarkably helpful and interesting.  I have a list of books to read that he advises will cover everything (in the ways of writing and reading) and another recommended book, The Trivium: The Liberal Arts of Logic, Grammar, and Rhetoric, to purchase.  The good news is that I showed him the first 42 pages of my book and I wasn't slaughtered.  I got a look of puzzlement a time or two and that was expected because I have tried to be different in the writing of this story.  After reaching a certain point he seemed to get excited because my style of writing became clear to him.  Of course, as you could guess, it is Stream of Consciousness.  I won't bore you now with all of his insights and amusements at my writing... I think for a man of his sophisticated intellect I am humorous.  I handed him the Synopsis of my book after he read the pages I handed to him- ill timing, but it seems that's the way I roll.  He looked at me, said it was really good and then it was as if I could read his thoughts as he gave a slight hesitation.  I picked up the slack at that moment of hesitation and said "Why didn't I write the book like that?"  "Yes." He said, "Why didn't you just write it like this?"  What is the answer to this?  It didn't come to my head that way.  And I am being true to the way the story unfolded in my head, even though it may be an obstacle.  At the end of our six hours at his kitchen table he put his hand on the top of my stacked pages and said "Don't change it.  This is you."  So, aside from his insistence on changing the word 'by' to the word 'near' and some other pointers like that... I passed and feel good about it.  He has a Ph.D. in English and Literature and a minor in philosophy... I am proud of anything outside of a trash can.  I could have seen my words slashed and dismembered and my bloody pages could have been as good as a crumpled paper ball in a trash can.  So, I give myself a passing grade.  I hope he agrees.

I did hand these pages to my friend Julie and she, being a positive person in general, gave me the supportive feedback of wanting more pages to read.  That is my goal.  So, I gulped the "Gatorade" needed to finish the race.  I have gotten encouragement from a peer and a "keep it the way it is" from a person possessing far more superior brain cells than mine.  From a new mommy and cake pop queen to an English language purist and professor... I feel I traveled farther than all my routes around the Southern states.  He may never have read this book on his own if he didn't know me.  It is romantic and is probably more appealing to women.  Regardless, I did it.  I showed them both.

My dad had a birthday on the 14th of March, just a couple of days after my cousin's wedding.  Her wedding was like a gift to him- a get-together with all of his family.  He is so easily pleased.  He sets a very good example of how to be happy any time, anywhere, with no requirements.  He is happy.  As simple as the sentence, is his happiness.  He, like his mom was, is very accepting because he listens to me in the back seat as he drives his family to Mississippi or elsewhere.  He'll say "Are you my daughter?" every now and then, although he knows full well, I have many of his tendencies.  I apparently have many character traits of my mother's father too.  I get that a lot.  I never knew him, but can feel him at times.  I can sense his personality.  I missed having a grandfather.  They left before I arrived.  Pictures help.  I cling to them.  Paige's children will never say the same because my father is a wonderful Papa, or Poppy as Madeline would say.  Her kids have two sets of wonderful grandparents.

I have been away so long that I have so much more to say.  I am pacing myself because I want to work on my book and not become sucked into anything else.  I did write a little something that is either amusing or nonsensical but it shouldn't be paired in the same blog entry as that of my cousin's wedding news.  It is of disconnect and the opposite of a happy union.  Happy unions are bountiful lately.  I have two wonderful friends that have become engaged and I have one friend that is expecting her first baby (talk about a union!).  I am gearing up for shower-my-friends mode.  Another cousin is wedding April 30th.  And Nick and I celebrate our own happy union on the 16th, which means all month.  Six years married.  Ten years together.  We have been together like-married almost all of our relationship.  We are the type that live that way.  Which is now another reason to put my SOC on disconnect and separation in another post.

For me, on this day, I am devoted to sitting my bum in this chair.  I'll refresh my coffee, light my candles, pick tunes, and occasionally walk the doggies.  Otherwise, I am sitting.  Typing.  Thinking.  Hoping.  Writing.  Editing the rest of my pages.

Luxury-ess: Day In, Day Out.

I dare say, "Do what you want to do."

Luxury, to me, means just that.  I spent some time thinking a couple of years back about exactly what it is that I want to do in life.  (on a day-to-day basis)  My answer to myself was: I want to wake up in the morning and ask myself with my head still on the pillow (no jumping up to start the ant race with frantic energy) "What do you want to do today?" and BE ABLE TO DO EXACTLY THAT!  That is the most thrilling thought to me.  What an absolute luxury.

Like today, I went to a yoga class. Great.  

I went to a yoga class with a couple of my friends that I just treasure.  Even better than great.  

I drove past my favorite view in Edenton.  Aah.

I came home, feeling relaxed and healthy, to three fuzzy pups that greeted me with pure enthusiasm and I poured deliciousness into my pretty mug.  Segafredo.  Ground luxury.  Mmmm.

Now, comes the best part.  I am writing.  I am doing exactly what I want to do. 

Some of my friends suggest to me that I write more about writing.  I have thought about that before, but the idea that it would be interesting to others is new.  I may do that.  For now though, I am going to spend my day seriously moving forward with my project.  I am aware that sitting on a product for three years is a bit much.  

I am about to make my writing task completely luxurious and have my desk adorned with a silver cup of sharpened, brand new pencils; grab a customized blank notepad; use a handmade coaster courtesy of moi to rest my pretty mug; supply a stack of useful, smart books; and play music that stirs creativity in the mind.  I may go put on a stylish pair of shoes so that my scarf doesn't feel like the lonely fashionable accessory.  I might even lean back and put my feet up on the desk and speak with sass to nobody. 

Oh, I almost forgot.  I have no fresh flower.  But, I will keep my bottle of Caldrea near me to squirt in the air and sniff.  Lavender Pine is my suggestion. 

So, luxury-ess tip of the day is: Do what you want to do.  Live it up!  Laugh about it.  Don't be obliged all your days.  

... and Segafredo is the coffee way to go. 

All this being said... I will try and take my own advice, Day In and Day Out.

* Segafredo is at Mitchner's, downtown Edenton.

* Caldrea is at Urban Village, Edenton.  Leave enough for me. ;)

Can I get a Ketut?

Eat Pray Love plays to my left.  The ones sitting in front of the television are China and Selma Lu Mela.  They snooze and seemingly enjoy the sounds of Italy, India, and Bali.  Honey, our adopted addition, has just joined them, situating herself so that she sees me from the floor near the coffee table.  Either she prefers the floor or she doesn't feel she has gained sofa-status.  I think they relate to the story.  They eat, they love, and there is proof they pray because Honey isn't stranded in an empty, lonely field as her last owner intended.  Instead she is brushed every night while curled on a feather pallet and gets sweet wishes whispered in her ear.  I think she has this eat, pray, love thing down.

I saw this movie in Edenton's movie theatre that must claim historical significance as the rest of the town does.  Out front is a really cool old marquee with big bulb lights.  Nevertheless, the fuzzy screen did its job and I sat there salivating as the shot zoomed in to a plate of pasta.  The parmesan cheese sprinkled and scattered over the perfect-looking al dente noodles like magical fairy dust.  I looked to my left where my dear friend sat and she looked to her right locking eyes with me.  Both of our jaws went slack and we stared at each other with the same expression not even whispering but knowing exactly what the other meant.  We would have metaphysically transported our bodies to Rome with no hesitation if we could have in that moment.  After the movie the group of girls filling up our row of seats gathered in a circle on the sidewalk.  It was as if we were in second grade and met on the playground.  We all buzzed about where we would go after we dropped everything in life.  And we exchanged confirmations of the fact that Javier Bardem was cast perfectly. ("You don't need a man Liz, you need a champion." Wow.)  Then, behind us came the older, more traditional generation.  We overheard their exchange of opinions and it was remarkable how greatly they differed from ours.  They pronouncedly didn't like it all and were bored with her pursuit of happiness and sense of knowing more of herself than she did before.  This difference has stuck with me.  I notice how things have changed with time, as they always do.  Change.  One can not fight it.  You change, or you die... seems to me.  The body is built on the ability to change and the soul is the same, in my thinking. As far as the masses go- The flexibility within has increased from the former generation to the one I sit in- and the allowance to exhibit this outwardly has increased too.  

Did the set before us learn to be dot connectors from their parents or was it a collaboration?  How have we learned to be less rigidly traditional if this pattern is passed from one age set to the next?  I guess it is gradually loosening, this stranglehold on "The Way to Live One's Life".  We can see the creative differences everywhere.  An easy place to start is fashion.  It is about individuality not conformity these days.  It is about ease of movement not restriction.  We don't have to fake comfort anymore, we can pursue it.  And if we want to choose discomfort, no one judges that either.  Stilettos and tight pencil skirts are completely acceptable when worn next to jersey knit and flip flops.  Just an example.

When I was younger than I am right now I would drive home from college bursting internally with frustration over the same idea that had frustrated me for all my years in high school.  "Who came up with the rules?  And who says I have to obey them?  Why do I need to connect the dots, marching down the same path from check point to check point, and draw the same outline as everyone else?  Why did society conform to this particular direction and call it best?"  It felt like suffocation.  When I watched crowds of people doing exactly the same things in the exact same way, I felt like running in the other direction as fast as I could.  It cost me some friends that I adored too.  But, it was impossible for me to join the crowd and flow uniformly.  So, I chose to be a friend to myself- as best I could anyway.  I was, after all, going to be around me longer than I would be around anyone else. ;)  

I read a comment from an interview of a celebrity that does things consistently her own way.  She said (paraphrasing) that being an individual is not always easy, that people who choose to be individuals can find themselves lonely sometimes because that is part of it.  I was in the bathtub relaxing and reading by candlelight when I took notice of those words.  True.  I thought.  It was so basic and so true.  Also, it was admirable.  I enjoy seeing people be genuine to themselves.

It serves well as a reminder.  When faced with huge gaps between your ways and another's ways, these words are comforting and reassuring that we all have our own company and there is a sort of bravery in marching down the path we choose to be ours and not the one others plan for us.  It is a 'road less traveled' moment.  It would be nice if we all had a Ketut like the subject of the film-someone who knew our way as much as we did and could subtly point us in the direction we meant to be facing before we got sidetracked or turned around.  Maybe if we are aware enough eventually we find our inner Ketut.  

Look inward not outward for answers.  Repeat.

It was a generation gap, the differences in what each group of gals gained from the film.  So often we are told that we have strayed from what is right and good and that we should go back to solid values.  New generations are often scolded.  I see that we could also move forward to better values.  The world is more dangerous 'they' say.  Statistically, based on percentages, the results say the opposite is true.  And I think of the fact that in those "good old days" two World Wars dominated civilizations and atomic bombs were dropped and... still the older set keep marching us toward war and utter disharmony (some do this while preaching the opposite).  Who is telling who about right versus wrong?  If we were all confident enough to march down our paths toward happiness & difference and not toward expectations & uniformity would we find peaceful existence? 

Maybe a better question is-  How did all this come from watching Julia Roberts globe trot?