A tardy report.
I have been meaning to post entry in the several days since I last did and have become sidetracked by all of my darting around Georgia (I am now in Athens). With all of the juggling of bags and dogs and other necessities, the coordinating of people and meet-up times and locations, and the finalizing of projects, well- I have been a slacker writer. As one of Nick's old college golf teammates and former roommates said to me this morning, "Y'all are the traveling-est couple of people I know." We do move around a lot. Either we are really moving- home and all, or we are jumping from location to location, whether it be a long distance or short, we are en route. I remember in 2008 we moved all of our belongings to Saint Simons Island to unpack and then pack again and move it all to storage in Atlanta. Nick did a project Cabo San Lucas and I did work on our house in Atlanta. We moved in and unpacked fully, and then only months later packed it all up again to move to Edenton, NC. And when I say 'we' packed, I mean 'me'. And that was just since 2008. When we lived in Anguilla we moved five times in one year. I said it before and it is true still. Gypsy Queen.
Recently I have noticed something new. I have been saying, "It will be good to get home." Home! I have acknowledged Edenton as home. Before, I liked it very much but was quick to say that it didn't feel like home, I didn't claim it as my own, I didn't feel a sense of belonging between the town and me. And with this trip south I see that I have slowly moved toward establishing my new world as home. Significant, this is... very noteworthy.
But, before October's shadow is out of sight, here is my past due report.
November 1, day after Goblin Madness:
H to the A to the L-L-O--- WE to the E to the N.O.
Just kiddin'.
I said "Y.E.S, of course" to the Halloween and trick-or-treating festivities that my sister's kiddos wanted to share with me and the verdict is... this Grump stands corrected. It was fun. Granted, the neighborhood was full of small children, as it should be, and the parents all walked along or performed door duty with a cheerful attitude or beer in hand or both- participating and proud. My sister's bunch dressed as the cast of Peter Pan for the night. Tinkerbell, Captain Hook, and the Indian. I improvised- put my hair in a high floppy bun and put a red tulle bow around my neck, painted lips red and drew polka dots around my eyes. Pretty good for a Grinch, right? I took little China too and put her red collar on. My mom said "What are you supposed to be? A floozy?" I dismissed this immediately. The shirt I had on was one of my own (with a really neat beaded, detachable neckplate with satin ribbon I might add) that I had already been wearing. I responded, "No... I am... Nothing In-particular." My niece, Katherine, looked at me with bewilderment, trying to understand the appeal, but thrilled that I had decided to be the usual whacked-out, unpredictable Aunt. (A role I adore filling.) As for my off the cuff costume name, I am not exactly funny. I already admitted that. I do trip myself out in my own head though.
We hit the 'hood hard and by the time the sixteen year old crashers came to the door I didn't even have time to frown because Paige had run out of candy. Which means I was spared the task of looking upward as a 6 foot tall Frankenstein asked me, with his husky voice, for a Snicker's bar. The night was then dedicated to answering Madeline. "I ohn canny! Be'a, canny?" (translation: "I want candy! Beth, candy?) Grinch duty resumes, "Nope." Per Mommy's orders, I'm off the captain's hook. She is like a mini cookie monster with a charm worthy of a mythological siren. Take Odysseus' advice and plug ears, sail through until she forgets about the candy festival. My poor sister had to remain on the journey for nearly 48 hours until finally sweet Madeline had forgotten about sugar.
The best Halloween I had was not one dedicated to door to door action. I was in college and was dedicated to bar to bar action. October + Athens, GA and a valid reason to throw a party- you can imagine the hysteria. On an average week night Athens is insanely fun. Add masks and ghouls and presidential heads bobbing in the mix and one comes out with slurring satisfaction. Every time I turned around I saw a Bill Clinton head accompanied by a black-haired girl sporting a beret. And then there was George W., grinning and walking arm in arm with his pops. It was the easy way to get into the costume-required clubs; grab mask and go. Although, my now husband was even lazier and grabbed a fro, stuck it on his head and claimed it passed as Saturday Night Live's "Ladies Man". I was Cleopatra. A very proud Cleopatra. I wrapped myself in an Egyptian inspired robe, had gold arm bands on, and a gold cobra head dress. I didn't stop there. I sprayed my hair with black hair paint- like an idiot. I have really dark brown hair. I was going out at night. I was only coming in contact with people too drunk to know the difference in one or two shades of darkness on my locks.
Nevertheless, I channeled Cleopatra and walked around confidently, showing off my eye makeup that in my opinion looked just like what is shown in ancient hieroglyphics and Egyptian symbols. Later in the night Nick and I met up in a very romantic reuniting sort of way. He had been gone on tournaments and we hadn't seen one another in a long while, so we talked on our cell phones as we walked and found our way to the same corner and there Cleopatra and the "Ladies Man" had a movie worthy moment of hugs and twirls.
The night was great. I actually felt like a sexy Cleopatra who got my boy. That was until I looked in the mirror at the very end of the night. I was horrified. I had been running my fingers through my hair, as I always do, and then wiping my face, blotting my lips, you know, regular contact with the face. I had unknowingly painted a beard on my face. Cleopatra with full facial hair. Mortified!
It became funny soon after, because I didn't scare my boy off, but it was stupid that I thought I needed to darken my already dark hair with messy, smudging paint. Whatever though, Cleopatra worked. Her trance on men I borrowed and directed onto one, Nick Cassini. We were inseparable from then on. Best Halloween ever.
That is also, I realize only now, the last time I dressed up with full fledged enthusiasm. It may have been my own reflection that scared me away from the holiday! No, I exaggerate. I mean... I did have a black painted beard on my face, but I am full of false proclamation here. I am less grinchy than I put on... I think. Drama Queen, Gypsy Queen, hokus pokus... no difference. Magically, one is this, then changed to that... Abracadabra one minute here, then gone.
poof.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Down on Wacamaw
Zoom to Earth. Zoom to North America. Zoom to the United States of America. Zoom to Georgia. Zoom to Moultrie. Zoom to a blue house on Wacamaw. Zoom to the kitchen. Here sits me. I’m in my childhood home.
I sit at my kitchen table, clay coffee mug with straw (strange, I know, coffee through a straw) in hand that is painted with a scene that eerily looks like Edenton, my new home. Although it is not French Roast in my cup, much to my chagrin, I am still reflectively sipping and I am thinking of all the new things coming back home brings to one’s mind. It is so much more than just coming back, taking a look around, reminiscing… If you’re lucky you can find the precious gem of an old friend to spend time with and absorb the difference in them between when you knew them and now... But, even then, there’s more going on. When you go back home you are confronted with the reality of your own growth. It’s a complex thing. On one hand, the prospect of walking back into the same scenery with familiar faces is comforting. You hope that it is an easy transition and a friendly reception awaits you. On the other hand you realize that you are not the same person you were when you lived here and left and to be greeted by others as they hold a long ago perception of you may be an uneasy scenario. I once heard that a person realizes how much they have shifted and grown when they come back home and realize they don’t fit. It is true. But, then again, I didn’t have to be told that, it is self-evident. And is it all that bad?
No.
I would guess it is the very reason we are alive- to expand, continue to self create, and navigate our way through life with experience. People often say “You know, they are such a good person; they haven’t changed at all.” And ultimately, that is either not a good thing, or a lie. How does one carry on through life and not change at all? Of course they have changed. Maybe the objective is to express that they are still kind as they used to be kind as well. Or, they are still a funny person in general. Maybe they are blessed and not too many wrinkles jumped upon their face. But hopefully they have changed.
When I come home and realize I don’t fit, it isn’t astonishing for me; I most often feel I don’t “fit” anywhere. And I embrace it. I don’t necessarily want to fit into anything. The idea in itself feels confining. But, I do like to feel comfortable and I do like to share common ground with others, especially ones I have had friendships with before. Even when thinking of my marriage I don’t think of us in terms of “fitting together”. I believe we compliment one another. We challenge and inspire and support one another. But to become “one”… what exactly is that? We are one family, but most definitely two individuals. This is all specific to desires, I realize. Others may connect with the words “become one”, but I feel that if I asked Nick of his thoughts about it he would be in agreement. I want him to be all of one himself. Not half, please. I want a unique individual person to grow with throughout life, but not to morph together into a unity that only thinks the same exact thoughts or operate on a system of one passively obliging the other. Disagreements aren’t always fun, but are crucial at times. I maintain my view, Nick maintains his. We work through it from there, but don’t feel we have to conquer the other’s thoughts… just be fully heard. We usually are in synch with conversation, but it is always pushed to new places that face new positions because we do not resign to purely agreeing with one another. I wonder, how does one feel expressed and known by another if not? And the idea of even being known by another is difficult for me to comprehend at times because I feel as though I, myself, am just getting to know me. I know things about myself, but I have realized I am peeling layers off a soul, I’m continuously opening avenues that expose a vast space I was blind to moments before. ‘Me’ holds many secrets that I get the privilege of unveiling along my life’s way.
Have I wandered off topic?
I did have the experience yet again of realizing my many new thoughts and characteristics when I came home and remembered my old ones. It is delightful once this thought of growth is accepted. It has been an incredible journey. I did find gems during this visit home also. I joined a group of old friends that were my teammates and they have cultivated into such extraordinary people with families and successes. Seeing them made me very happy and the comfort I felt with them, because they are open minded and accepting of so much, was, even though expected, a relief. I think sports may be to thank, as well as the personalities involved. It unites. I was in individual sports all along in childhood, competing solo, but the team we formed was close. We spent long days together and had genuinely fun times and that creates a comfort. I exited the group early. I suppose it was because I had been competitive since such an early age and I was more and more curious about what it was like to actually go home after school, or not have serious obligation… to put it lamely, I wondered what it was like to just be a normal teenager. I wanted a break, a less serious commitment. And, although it does one no good to look back in time- and especially to regret, because I value my position in the now- I do think I would choose to continue on with just a mild break if I were there in that long ago moment now. But, you know where that thought comes from? The change that has created the new me. Interesting isn’t it?
I’m not living near enough to make it home often, but I do enjoy it, especially this time. Even though I feel I am not recognized many times, I understand why. I am so rarely here, why would anyone expect my face. When Thanksgiving roles around and old faces pop up everywhere that’s a different story, of course. But, on a random October Thursday, it stands to reason I’m out of place. The chance that I can run into team mates and friends or drive to Thomasville for a lunch date with one of my dearest friends is what will always drag me back no matter how much I change as a person. It is the people I treasure. Because I talk about physical locations on earth quite a bit and how I think they have different energies that align with a person’s energy, I think it is also important to note that people make a place as well. Powerful component to any sort of happiness: people. The fact that I can claim a friend from second grade as one of my best to this day is priceless.
The adventure of coming home is only hard when one tries to adapt backward. It feels hard because it goes against nature. I am thankful for where I was and I don’t want to go back. I am thankful for where I am now and I don’t want to come back. I want more, and that’s what makes up life. If you find yourself not wanting more of yourself, I think you somehow find a way to die. Seems logical. Why would God create an expanding universe and not expanding souls?
On another note, UGA plays UF today… so… no closing paragraph or explanation needed for hasty departure from page. I am being summoned for pre-game fun.
(Go Dawgs!)
I sit at my kitchen table, clay coffee mug with straw (strange, I know, coffee through a straw) in hand that is painted with a scene that eerily looks like Edenton, my new home. Although it is not French Roast in my cup, much to my chagrin, I am still reflectively sipping and I am thinking of all the new things coming back home brings to one’s mind. It is so much more than just coming back, taking a look around, reminiscing… If you’re lucky you can find the precious gem of an old friend to spend time with and absorb the difference in them between when you knew them and now... But, even then, there’s more going on. When you go back home you are confronted with the reality of your own growth. It’s a complex thing. On one hand, the prospect of walking back into the same scenery with familiar faces is comforting. You hope that it is an easy transition and a friendly reception awaits you. On the other hand you realize that you are not the same person you were when you lived here and left and to be greeted by others as they hold a long ago perception of you may be an uneasy scenario. I once heard that a person realizes how much they have shifted and grown when they come back home and realize they don’t fit. It is true. But, then again, I didn’t have to be told that, it is self-evident. And is it all that bad?
No.
I would guess it is the very reason we are alive- to expand, continue to self create, and navigate our way through life with experience. People often say “You know, they are such a good person; they haven’t changed at all.” And ultimately, that is either not a good thing, or a lie. How does one carry on through life and not change at all? Of course they have changed. Maybe the objective is to express that they are still kind as they used to be kind as well. Or, they are still a funny person in general. Maybe they are blessed and not too many wrinkles jumped upon their face. But hopefully they have changed.
When I come home and realize I don’t fit, it isn’t astonishing for me; I most often feel I don’t “fit” anywhere. And I embrace it. I don’t necessarily want to fit into anything. The idea in itself feels confining. But, I do like to feel comfortable and I do like to share common ground with others, especially ones I have had friendships with before. Even when thinking of my marriage I don’t think of us in terms of “fitting together”. I believe we compliment one another. We challenge and inspire and support one another. But to become “one”… what exactly is that? We are one family, but most definitely two individuals. This is all specific to desires, I realize. Others may connect with the words “become one”, but I feel that if I asked Nick of his thoughts about it he would be in agreement. I want him to be all of one himself. Not half, please. I want a unique individual person to grow with throughout life, but not to morph together into a unity that only thinks the same exact thoughts or operate on a system of one passively obliging the other. Disagreements aren’t always fun, but are crucial at times. I maintain my view, Nick maintains his. We work through it from there, but don’t feel we have to conquer the other’s thoughts… just be fully heard. We usually are in synch with conversation, but it is always pushed to new places that face new positions because we do not resign to purely agreeing with one another. I wonder, how does one feel expressed and known by another if not? And the idea of even being known by another is difficult for me to comprehend at times because I feel as though I, myself, am just getting to know me. I know things about myself, but I have realized I am peeling layers off a soul, I’m continuously opening avenues that expose a vast space I was blind to moments before. ‘Me’ holds many secrets that I get the privilege of unveiling along my life’s way.
Have I wandered off topic?
I did have the experience yet again of realizing my many new thoughts and characteristics when I came home and remembered my old ones. It is delightful once this thought of growth is accepted. It has been an incredible journey. I did find gems during this visit home also. I joined a group of old friends that were my teammates and they have cultivated into such extraordinary people with families and successes. Seeing them made me very happy and the comfort I felt with them, because they are open minded and accepting of so much, was, even though expected, a relief. I think sports may be to thank, as well as the personalities involved. It unites. I was in individual sports all along in childhood, competing solo, but the team we formed was close. We spent long days together and had genuinely fun times and that creates a comfort. I exited the group early. I suppose it was because I had been competitive since such an early age and I was more and more curious about what it was like to actually go home after school, or not have serious obligation… to put it lamely, I wondered what it was like to just be a normal teenager. I wanted a break, a less serious commitment. And, although it does one no good to look back in time- and especially to regret, because I value my position in the now- I do think I would choose to continue on with just a mild break if I were there in that long ago moment now. But, you know where that thought comes from? The change that has created the new me. Interesting isn’t it?
I’m not living near enough to make it home often, but I do enjoy it, especially this time. Even though I feel I am not recognized many times, I understand why. I am so rarely here, why would anyone expect my face. When Thanksgiving roles around and old faces pop up everywhere that’s a different story, of course. But, on a random October Thursday, it stands to reason I’m out of place. The chance that I can run into team mates and friends or drive to Thomasville for a lunch date with one of my dearest friends is what will always drag me back no matter how much I change as a person. It is the people I treasure. Because I talk about physical locations on earth quite a bit and how I think they have different energies that align with a person’s energy, I think it is also important to note that people make a place as well. Powerful component to any sort of happiness: people. The fact that I can claim a friend from second grade as one of my best to this day is priceless.
The adventure of coming home is only hard when one tries to adapt backward. It feels hard because it goes against nature. I am thankful for where I was and I don’t want to go back. I am thankful for where I am now and I don’t want to come back. I want more, and that’s what makes up life. If you find yourself not wanting more of yourself, I think you somehow find a way to die. Seems logical. Why would God create an expanding universe and not expanding souls?
On another note, UGA plays UF today… so… no closing paragraph or explanation needed for hasty departure from page. I am being summoned for pre-game fun.
(Go Dawgs!)
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Truth of the Moon
Round and round I rise and swirl; I twirl in the Moonlight’s spooky glow. Halo of Souls Passed Before keeps hidden the truth of the Moon. Night of darkness and emptiness, you sneak and intrigue subconscious. Hope is what darkness brings, for Sunrise is soon to gleam. It is only the rise of Sunshine’s beams that bring sighs and collective ease. But while I’m here I’ll dance with you a bit and watch the Night from where you sit, where all below appears so clear. Observing worldly rotation in boundless, eternal creation.
Motion goes, motion flows, motion takes me near. I look at the Moon's halo and say with hollow pride, “Souls, what do you hope to achieve? You can’t keep hidden a light when the source of darkness does not even exist. The only thing that lives is light.”
Souls laughed and said, “But you sweet dear have put me here and written my role to suit your own worry. We do not have a reason to keep what is yours away from you; you plant the seed of fright in the Night right by your very self. But how noble you sound with your wise insight and voice of righteous tone. When foolish thoughts flood one’s mind how could the wise ones rise? The light is the only life, yes, but we hide it not with our haunted might.”
The laughter bounced around the Moon, filled craters and swept the galaxy through and I am left floating in the darkness of uncertainty. I turn sharply with dismay and shout, “Moon, why didn’t you say? You let me think my only hope was in the break of Day.”
“Child, I whisper restful thoughts and lullabies as you sleep and you are the one who hears me not, who should be the one to weep? I am the one who keeps up hope that you will open your eyes to see it is not me you need. With all the soothing words and promises in the very air you breathe, you should not have feelings of worry or doubt, but those are the very things you keep. Your window is open to throw them out and let the Souls serve you well. For every time you are wrong or are consumed by fear, you may find the truth hovering near.”
I swallow my pride, my cheeks flushed red, and turn in the Night to sink low below, return to bed. I seek the glow up above and nod to the Souls with gracious heart. “You may go now from my Night, I need no spooky halo. I care for what you spoke to me and I thank you for your honesty. Please let me say, I like you all but the Night should be as sweet as Day. My Moon will now beam clarity and you, the Halo of Souls, smile down at me.”
I drift through sleep round and round and come up to find Morning. I open my eyes and look at the Sun and say “I had no clue, all along my Night was as bright as Day.”
Motion goes, motion flows, motion takes me near. I look at the Moon's halo and say with hollow pride, “Souls, what do you hope to achieve? You can’t keep hidden a light when the source of darkness does not even exist. The only thing that lives is light.”
Souls laughed and said, “But you sweet dear have put me here and written my role to suit your own worry. We do not have a reason to keep what is yours away from you; you plant the seed of fright in the Night right by your very self. But how noble you sound with your wise insight and voice of righteous tone. When foolish thoughts flood one’s mind how could the wise ones rise? The light is the only life, yes, but we hide it not with our haunted might.”
The laughter bounced around the Moon, filled craters and swept the galaxy through and I am left floating in the darkness of uncertainty. I turn sharply with dismay and shout, “Moon, why didn’t you say? You let me think my only hope was in the break of Day.”
“Child, I whisper restful thoughts and lullabies as you sleep and you are the one who hears me not, who should be the one to weep? I am the one who keeps up hope that you will open your eyes to see it is not me you need. With all the soothing words and promises in the very air you breathe, you should not have feelings of worry or doubt, but those are the very things you keep. Your window is open to throw them out and let the Souls serve you well. For every time you are wrong or are consumed by fear, you may find the truth hovering near.”
I swallow my pride, my cheeks flushed red, and turn in the Night to sink low below, return to bed. I seek the glow up above and nod to the Souls with gracious heart. “You may go now from my Night, I need no spooky halo. I care for what you spoke to me and I thank you for your honesty. Please let me say, I like you all but the Night should be as sweet as Day. My Moon will now beam clarity and you, the Halo of Souls, smile down at me.”
I drift through sleep round and round and come up to find Morning. I open my eyes and look at the Sun and say “I had no clue, all along my Night was as bright as Day.”
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