Old South Rising

Today, I sat under a tarp in a cemetery and watched as my grandfather was lowered into the ground.  It was hot and not just to the point that it was uncomfortable.  I mean "feel like your skin is burning when the sun touches it, hair clinging to your neck after 5 minutes of being outside" hot.

My grandfather lived in the Lowcountry of South Carolina- the land of Spanish moss and people who smell the pluff mud and think of it as a sort of "Welcome Home" from the land that they are so tightly tied to.  The people who live here are a different breed- they consider you family once you've sat down and had a meal with them, they live and breathe the land that they work so hard to help yield the livelihood of their families, and they always find someway of leaving an everlasting impression on your heart- no matter where you head to after you leave.

As I sat there, surrounded by family (blood and "adopted"), I couldn't help but soak in the wonderfulness of the life of a Southerner.  My grandfather's remaining brothers and sisters (4 of the original 12 are still living) sat together, acting as if they had never left eachother's side, and all the grievances that they held had melted away when they heard one of their youngest brothers was sick and needed their help.  My "highfalutin'" great aunt held her head high, almost regally, as she rested her hand on her older brother's knee as he wept into her shoulder.  On the other side of him sat the other brother, who traveled the world and settled in Texas, making deer sausage and writing postcards to the family he left behind.  They did not try to hold back their tears, but in true Southern fashion, they remained as reserved and proud as the pastor spoke of their late sibling.

People were sniffling and crying, and tissues were passed around, as much for the tears as for the sweat that trickled down the chins and the throats, making the grief only seem more real.  I looked at these people, who drawled their soft "r's" and who would suffer a blizzard to watch one of their fellow kinsmen be committed to God, and thought of how much the Old South still survived.  And as an African American sergeant folded the flag that rested upon the coffin that held my grandfather and sat it in my grandmother's lap, I watched her cover his dark hand with her pale one, thanking him for honoring her husband; I realized that maybe some of it had died and something more beautiful had been born and was growing in its place.  (They still have a long way to go, but prayerfully the lines of race that have marred the life of Lowcountriers for so long will finally start to fade.)  The pastor boomed his wonderful, deep southern voice across the yard, teetering on the edge of comfort and the fire and brimstone that only men from the southern part of the country can achieve.

I was comforted by these people, my people, and the things that I saw.  I thought "How blessed I am for getting to experience a life such as this."  I will miss the South; it has been ingrained in my soul in such a way that I know I cannot ever fully leave it behind.  And today, I knew that I would never want to.

Casual(ly Uncomfortable) Friday

About 20 minutes before we closed yesterday, my boss poked her head in the door and announced that it would be Casual Friday today.  The initial rush of excitement and flurry of ideas of what I could wear the next day were later to be quelled by two contrasting ideologies:  cute, truly casual wear, and the exasperation of trying to look professional and having to wear jeans in the middle of summer in the hottest state in America. (My office Casual Friday rules state “You must wear jeans or khakis, with a work appropriate shirt.  You must also pretend like you are not sweating and smell like a mule. “)

Now for some, this would not be such a big deal- say if you worked in an office that you didn’t have to deal directly with a client, or some movie-like newspaper/magazine where you could wear whatever you wanted to as long as it was trendy and “cool.”  But when you are working in an insurance office where you are always dealing with clientele, dressing for “Casual” Friday is a little more complicated.

So I’m sitting in my room last night, in a pile of clothing, gripping a beautiful salmon colored shirt that I want to wear so badly and wiping the nervous sweat that beads up on my brow with the dark, dressy jeans that I don’t want to but know that I will have to wear the next day.  I realize something at this point, as I clutch the twirly skirt and the cute shorts and large waist belt to my breast with a wild look in my eye…I hate Casual Friday.  Because it is never really “casual.”  Because people will be judging by just what you are wearing, employees and clients alike.  I mean, you can take the chance and wear those light-washed jeans and graphic tee from Banana Republic, but all day you will feel self-conscious that you have killed your professional integrity by actually coming to work in comfortable clothing.

Now you may be thinking, So, just wear a skirt or something, Ryan.  You don’t have to look like a bum. Ah, yes, but then you will be the party foul who showed up on Casual Friday in something sassy and semi-professional.  The next thing you know, someone is spiking your coffee with copier ink and leaving Hate post-its in your cubicle. I do not want to be that girl.  

So eventually, I had to resign myself to my jeans and spent today sweating my face off every time someone opened the door to the inferno that lies outside and shifting uncomfortably as my dark dressy jeans moved into strange and foreign places after sitting in the same chair for so long.

The next time you hear someone resounding joyfully at the mention of this mythical day of casual fashion, do me a favor and punch them in the face.  It will ease the pain for them of dealing with the fallacies of Casual Friday later.

If I had been able to dress in my regularly scheduled clothing, this may have happened:

Help Me, Gerry!

I have had no idea what to write about for the past few days.  It is ridiculous!  I get little flickers of ideas through the day (The Value of the Cheeseburger, 8 Signs Your Boss Holds Attila the Hun as a Role Model, Why Gerard Butler is the Celebrity Love of My Life, How I've Developed My Boston Driving Skills, etc.) But when it comes time for me to sit down and type something up, my mind goes completely blank or Facebook notifies me of one more college mate of mine getting married, to which I stalk the bejeezus out of the wedding I was not invited to.

*Scottish, ruggedly handsome, funny.  And he sings in my favorite musical??  Um...yes?*

I just can't think of anything to write when it comes down to it.  And I feel like as a writer, emotional madcap, and American Lit extraordinnaire, staying shut up is not healthy.

What do you do when you suffer from the dreaded writer's block?

Soundtrack Saturday

Ladies and Gents, welcome to the first Soundtrack Saturday of this blog's life.  Every Saturday, I will attempt to remember to post a soundtrack for the day.

A soundtrack, you say?  Are we in a movie, here?  Why no, we aren't unfortunately.  But, I know that you know what it is like to be walking down the sidewalk and think, Wow, it would be really great if there was music playing right now that expressed how I feel.  Which is what IPods are for.  But it would just be better if everyone could hear your own personal soundtrack as you were walking down that sidewalk, so people could bust a move or just walk up to you and hand out a hug (depending on what songs you are playing).

And since I had such a dismal, awkward posting session yesterday, I thought today I should make a playlist early and let it set my day for me.  I also feel like I should say that I don't own any rights to any of the following pictures or links.... don't sue me.  So without further ado, here is my soundtrack for Saturday, June 18th:

#1  "Daylight" by Matt and Kim

Yes, this is the song from the Bacardi commercial.  But it makes me so happy.  And these two crazy kids just seem so in love and facy-free that it just bleeds out through their music.

#2  "Something Beautiful" by NeedtoBreathe

I love this song for so many reasons.  I heard it first while I was living in Charleston, and I loved listening to it on the way to the beach.  Lots of guitar, lots of the raspy, sexy vocals.  This is a great song no matter which way choose to take it, spiritually or just a feel good song.








#3  "If It's Love" by Train

Train, I love your happy, quirky lyrics, and the way you make me want to shake it while I'm driving down the road with my windows down!






#4  "Ladies of Cambridge" by Vampire Weekend

This indie band has a ton of great songs, very upbeat and unique.  This one in particular just gets me in Boston-mode.









#5  "Babylon" by David Gray

This song makes me think of driving downtown at nighttime.  And not taking notice of all the drunk college kids (or maybe noticing them and embracing them as a symbol of the last carefree moment and making it last).  Plus, David Gray is too cute.







#6  "Drowning Mr. and Mrs. Palmer" by The Restoration

Ok, you have probably never heard of this band.  They are more locally known, but I have a feeling it won't be like that for long.  The Restoration has a very ecletic sound, a mix of rock, folk, and bluegrass.  They have such a unique sound and vocalists Daniel Machado and Adam Corbett have some of the best pipes around.  From the banjo to the violin, the drums to the bass, this group knows what's up and is inventing a new kind of sound.  What is even cooler is that Machado has written a short story to accompany the tracks on their album, sort of as a bakground/prequel to what you will hear in the songs.  How awesome is that??




#7  "Fidelity" by Regina Spektor

I love this song.  Spektor has such a versatile voice and a quirky sound.  This song make me want to skip and learn how to play the piano.










#8  "Song Away" by Hockey

Don't dance to this song...I dare you.







#9  "Africa" by Toto

This song is timeless.  It is just that good. Plus, the video is AWESOME.









So, what are some songs that you would use for this first Soundtrack Saturday?

When You Give an English Major a Boat....

Hello again!  I have been on vacation this week (2 days physically, 5 days mentally).  It was very nice to not think about what I have to pack, how much I am going to miss my life here, how I am going to scheme my way into a reputable New England Master's program, or other such problems.  Ugh, if only life could be a vacation at the beach all the time.... but then I would probably sitting in some hammock, complaining on my blog called something corny and unoriginal (because who has the energy to be original on vacay?) like "Life's a Beach" about how I am so bored and just want to spend a week in the thick of it and all.

Anyways, maybe it is because I am not on vacation anymore, maybe it is because my ex-boyfriend, who broke up with ME, has decided to start playing mind games with me by leaving me messages and then not answering his phone when I return the call ( and yes I know what the obvious solution is, I'm working on it people), but for some reason, I have lost my sparkle today.  So I'm not really in the writing mood, but ya gotta start again somehow.
In conclusion to this weird post, here is a picture of a boat down in Charleston.  This person HAS to be an English professor: literary and pushed to drinking:

I Am Woman, Hear Me Giggle With My Friends!

As time goes on, my quirky take on feminism will be revealed, and it will become clear that I follow an edict that is beautifully stated in one of my favorite books, If Women Ran the World, Sh*t Would Get Done by Shelly Ranchanow:  it isn't about "male-bashing" so much as "female-applauding."  And today has been a "female-applauding" type of day.

Media has always been speculative about female relationships, and it bothers me to no end when women cannot be depicted simply as friends.  They are either constantly stabbing each other in the back with a smile (The Women, anyone?) or some other underlying, sexual insinuation haunts their companionship.  And unfortunately, this sentiment isn't completely false.  There are plenty of girls out there that I would like to kick in the face with my Gianni Bini. 

But there are so many more that I am truly friends with and cherish the bond that I have with them in a completely non-sexual way.  Women understand each other; we know how you feel.  Remember that time you ate 7 gallons of ice cream and didn't know which was worse:  getting dumped by your boyfriend or hanging your head in the toilet while revisiting all the ice cream you just ingested?  Yea, we've been there.  Remember when you were in college, and you thought that making a statement was shaving a passage from Vagina Monologues in the back of your head?  Yea, we've all made bad hair choices.  Remember that time when you were feeling so lonely because no one in this world understood you?  So do we, and we were just as happy as you were when our best friend came over and listened to all the venting we had to do while just nodding and telling us she understood.


Today, I had the blessing of realizing the value of my girl friends.  During work, I was reminded of the bond my grandmother, Mary Rae, and I had while she was alive.  She was, and still is, one of my greatest role models.  I learned how to be a woman from her and my mother.  They taught me some of the most valuable lessons I know.  I was also asked by one of my co-worker's 13 year old daughter to help her find a style.  While I was flattered, I also saw it as an opportunity to connect with another female and impart some worldly advice on her that only another woman could share (I told her that while looking fine and enhancing our personalities should be a priority, that none of it matters if we don't have the brains to pull off that much sass.  Being intelligent will always be in style).  And tonight, I had a 3 hour coffee rendezvous with one of my closest friends, M.  M. is one of my favorite people because she is such a good listener and never tries to tell you what to do.  She only tries to understand.  She is also my music soul mate, but that is another blog for another day.  Over coffee, we talked about everything- from books to boys, hiking to hang ups.  And I can't tell you how many times the phrase "I know EXACTLY what you mean!" was excitedly punctuated with a fist slamming down on the wobbly, metal table crowded with lattes and purses.


The point is, I find power in numbers when it comes to feminism.  The more women that I connect with, the more confident and powerful I feel as a woman.  The women (old and young) that I encountered today not only made me aware of the importance of those kindred spirits, but it flat out made me proud to be a woman.  And as I close this tonight, with my 11 year old sister asleep beside me, I look at this tiny woman-to-be and pray that she will be as fortunate as I have been in my platonic, female relationships to realize how wonderful and powerful it is to be a woman.

Facebook wins again

Ok, so I usually try to ignore all of the little ads on the sidebar of Facebook whenever I log on, as I feel they are either A) begging to steal my credit card number or B) promoting that week's "hit" show featuring 4-6 teenagers well above the poverty line and well below the high school reading equivalency.  But there has been one that has caught my eye over and over because of their sly advertising of putting cute little dresses up that need a good home and someone to love and fawn over them.  What I am wondering is, before I spend my next month's rent on a few of these little beauties, are they of any quality?  Am I going to take them out of the package and have them disintegrate in my hands?  The website is Mod Retro, and they specialize in Indie and Vintage clothing.  If you have ever owned anything from this place, I would love to know about your experience. 

And just in case you were curious, here are some samples.  Look and them and TRY not to fall in love.  It's like trying not to tear up during a Sarah Mclachlan ASPCA ad. 

The Japanese Cherry Blossom dress is my fave... It reminds me of the famous picture of Edna St. Vincent Millay.

The Problem with Not Being Omnipresent

One question has been buzzing around inside my head like a fly that has is stuck in between the blinds and the window...How the heck do you find a job in a city that you don't yet live in? My original plan was to move up to Boston (which I have unhealthily began to fantasize as a land of wine, honey, and Gerard Butler look alikes) and find one as soon as I could. But the closer I have gotten to the moving date, the more paranoid I have become that I am going to get up there and be the next victim of unemployment. Does anyone have any suggestions? Has anyone made a big move like this and waitied until they got there to find a job?

PLUS, please excuse the sloppiness of the blog. I am currently trying to tidy it up and give it that, "New age flapper/sophisticated scholar look." I am also taking suggestions on that. :)