Secretarial Reflections

So I have just recently found another job to help me pay for my big move to Boston. Starting at 9 am, I go to work as a secretary at an insurance firm. I stay there until 3:30, where I promptly drive across town to work as a secretary at my church's gym. (Yes, we have a gym. Don't judge.) I am there until 9 pm. On busy days, it goes by fast, and I end up at home tired but satisfied that I have contributed to the "An Adult Child Living with Parents is a Mortifying Expeirence so Said Child Must Move as Far Away as Possible" fund. But today it has been extra slow, reminding me that I am not taking regular lunches to earn more money and that I'm not making that much money.

But today, I have also taken all my down time to do some thinking. And, let's admit it, when things get busy, we really don't have time to just simply think. And alot of the time, that's a good thing. A relief. But other times, it's nice to just hang out and ponder for a while. So I started thinking about my grandparents and how crazy their lives were. I'm currently trying to write a book about my grandmother, and I got to work a little on that. And then I found this picture that I took of my grandfather's hands this summer. And I just wanted to share it. It speaks for itself.


What do our bodies say about our lives? Looking in the reflective, quarter sphere camera staring down at me in the gym, mine says (slightly mussed hair with half drooped eye lids) I am tired from working hard for something I want very badly, (mostly long nails, with some that have been broken but yet to be filed) I am torn between my extremely feminine side and the tomboy that lives within, (my rather round hind end) that I am indeed one foxy lady at the end of the day.

So there are my reflections for the day. Seeing as it is only 6 pm, and it is raining (who really wants to go to the gym soggy?), methinks I may post again later. Only the unexercised masses can tell.

Plus, here is my mother's new kitchen that I am obsessed with!
Before


After

Gianni Bini be mine.

Plus, I love these shoes.

The Southern Peach goes to Beantown

So I have finally decided that yes. I am definitely moving to Boston, which is, as my favorite time-traveling movie crush Marty McFly would say, "heavy." For a Steel Magnolia such as myself, who has never lived more than two hours from my hometown in South Carolina, going up North is the equivalent to a mortal sin to some of my friends and family. But I was never one to stick to the rules all the time. And I have had the distinct pleasure of reading two great biographies that have fueled the rebel that lies within: Savage Beauty (Edna St. Vincent Millay) by Nancy Milford and Anita Loos by Gary Carey.

Edna St. Vincent Millay has been one of my favorite writers since I took a class in college called "Sophisticated Ladies." The tongue in cheek title of the class should have been a hint to me what an amazing class this would be, but at the time, I knew nothing about 1920's women writers. Millay was one of the first that we covered, and I fell in love with her the moment I read "First Fig."

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends--
It gives a lovely light.

How could you not like a lady who writes something so sexy and intelligent in a time when women were not supposed to be either. She helped bring both concepts in vogue in the late 1900's. She was always fighting some establishment in her life: loneliness, marriage, sexism, political stances, etc. She marched in for the lives of two prisoners in front of the Boston capital. She made a marriage work that no one thought would be possible. She wan the Pulitzer Prize, something no woman had accomplished before. She challenged some of the leading poets, including herself, on a regular basis. She was a genius who let drugs destroy her mind. But for many years, her light did give "a lovely light."

Anita Loos was not the genius the Millay was, but my goodness, she was just as sassy! She wrote one of my favorite books Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. She also wrote dozens of plays and movies (many things for Clark Gable, Douglas Fairbanks, The Talmadge Sisters, etc.) She was a cutthroat business woman and as witty as they come. Unfortunately, she was not as dominant in her personal life. There were several times I wanted to reach through the pages, and time, and shake Loos. "Leave the crummy mooch!" But every leading lady must have a fatal flaw, and like most of her heroines in the plays and movies she wrote, that flaw was the unexplainable love for a scoundrel. Which, coincidentally, has always been my problem.

I related to both of these women on different levels, but I think it's time to take another page out of their books. I need to do something daring. And I think that that something is waiting for me in Boston. The Sweet Tea Queen is coming to town!

The Conundrum of Change

Men will never change...and that is a scientific fact. Ok, maybe it's not, but anyone with good sense can see that it is undeniably true. Scared of committing themselves to anything more than their fear of commitment, they continue to prove to us over and over again that while we are looking for a good set of genes, what they are looking for is all in our jeans.

This being said, it is equally aggravating that us women also are incapable of change, yet so devoted to the concept (applied to others of course) that we let our hearts be broken over and over again. You know what's going to happen. We are all the idiot in the horror movie that walks toward the ominous noise. You're going to get cut, stupid. It almost makes me feel sorry for men; we keep expectingthem to be something that they have never been capable. Like throwing a cat off the side of the boat and expecting them to like it. Ultimate failure. Come on, ladies. When are we going to learn to just be content with dealing with the hand we are dealt.

Of course, there are exceptions to the rule, on both accounts. There are some women who are not led by their need for companionship, and there are some good men out there looking for something more. But at the moment, concerning the latter, I'm better off going through strange wardrobes in decrepit houses looking for Narnia.

Dorothy in My Head

For today, Dorothy Parker, as usual, has put it into perfect words.

A Dream Lies Dead

A dream lies dead here. May you softly go
Before this place, and turn away your eyes,
Nor seek to know the look of that which dies
Importuning Life for life. Walk not in woe,
But, for a little, let your step be slow.
And, of your mercy, be not sweetly wise
With words of hope and Spring and tenderer skies.
A dream lies dead; and this all mourners know:

Whenever one drifted petal leaves the tree-
Though white of bloom as it had been before
And proudly waitful of fecundity-
One little loveliness can be no more;
And so must Beauty bow her imperfect head
Because a dream has joined the wistful dead!


Sigh... Why can't things just work out for once?

Have a Little Faith...

Do you ever feel like you're being followed...by a phrase? That's what I've been dealing with this past week; first it was the John Hiatt song, then I stumbled upon the Mitch Albom book today while in the library. It can't be ignored, though believe me, I've tried.

Have a little faith...It's so hard. Especially when things aren't going your way- when your heart is broken and you just want it fixed. It's hard to have faith in some guy that you've never seen in flesh and blood and to believe that he loves you and wants the best for you. It's hard for me to believe that about my dad all the time, much less a heavenly father. But I do. Like I said, letely I've tried to ignore it, because what he wants just doesn't seem to coincide with I want. And I'm getting mixed messages. But "have a little faith".... I'm having trouble ignoring that. Every time I turn on the radio, it's come blaring out at me, refusing to go away until I just do it. And I'm really thinking maybe I should just go ahead and do it.

I'm one of those people who grapples with their faith because I like to have control. When I don't know what's going to happen, I lose it. And that's what God is always asking me to do. "Just let go, Ryan. I'll take care of it." But God, what if the plan you have for me isn't going to make me happy? What if you don't want me to be with the one that I want to be with? What if I don't make enough money and you want me to live on the streets? What if you want me to be radical? It's horrible, I know. But if you believe in God, or any higher power, you know what I mean. You've thought it before. What if I know better than you do, God?

And that's what always gets me. I never do.

Bachelor's Buttons

I am blessed to have two siblings, one closer to my age and one much, much younger. Tonight I went with her to the "Spring Fling" at her elementary school (I am visiting for the weekend), and there was more than enough nostalgia to go around.

The sun was setting, and in the south, it is already warm enough to be comfortable in tank tops and shorts until dusk. There was a cool breeze, and a fabulous DJ playing a good enough mix to appease the kids and the adults. Watching the kids run around, listening to the music, watching my parents mingle...it was the perfect setting for flash flood of memories. It made me miss a lot of times, but even more so, the people that are no longer a part of my life. A memory can be a wonderful or a heartbreaking thing.

On a more optimistic note, I found out that I have a real love for gardening today. I've always scoffed at my mother when she asked if I would like to work in the yard with her. Getting dirty in the hot sun...no thanks. Well, for whatever reason, I thought I would like to go with her to Lowes to look at some flowers.

We walked into the greenhouse area, and I was instantly hooked. It's funny how you can go somewhere or do something a million times, and it will mean nothing. But under just the right circumstances, your life can change in a second. I never realized how therapeutic planting could be. I purchased some beautiful white larkspur, knockout roses and a raspberry plant. But my favorite buy of the day had to be my white and amethyst Bachelor's Buttons.

The Bachelor's Button flower is so odd looking; some might even consider it ugly. But there is something so simple and beautiful about this unique flower, I just had to get it. It looks almost like a spider with white spindly legs and a bright purple body. There were so many left at the store, left behind because it didn't fit in with the roses and the peonies. I bought three.