Just seen on a blog....
"It's such a liability to love another person."
Isn't it, though?
Monday, November 29, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Midtown
It is time for me to move...I've known it for quite some time, and have been planning accordingly. I began downsizing, giving away, breathing new life in old things I already possess. Then I began hanging at places mid-city, such as Republic, Cafe Eclectic, Au Fond, Do's, Pho Hoa Binh, etc. Lastly, I took my running to Chickasaw Gardens where I fell head over heels in love with the architecture and originality of each of the homes, from the bungalows (especially the bungalows) to the stately mansions, which coexist quite harmoniously alongside each other.
December brings with it my move. I have lived in East Memphis most of my life, so this is a new adventure. The photos above are of my soon to be condo....not my furnishings yet, but I LOVE the deep rich walls and tumbled stones and bamboo floors. Cannot wait to be there....oh, and as I was pulling into my parking place today, the car a few places down from me wore a sticker proudly proclaiming, "Democratic Women are the Life of the Party!" Feeling right at home already.....
Sunday, November 14, 2010
a common constant coexistence
Fashion is my guilty pleasure. I love everything about it, as long as I make it original. Several members of my family have deemed me eccentric, a description I've not always viewed in the spirit of kind observation. Yet they are absolutely correct. Eccentric I am. I think this "characteristic" manifests itself with mucho gusto via my sartorial expression.
Fashion is a genre. It is defined by consumerism, expression, social class, and to some extent, worth and value. I see it as a blank canvas form of definition that changes with the underpinnings of my life experiences. I love that! I love changing the way I am feeling with fabric, and combination, and LOOK.
Sometimes fashion means more to me than others...yet it always represents my spirit. I feel very little if any fear within this avenue of expression. I don't really change my underlying style from work to play...it's always edgy and somewhat controversial. Hope I can express that without sounding completely enrapt in myself, as I suppose the point I am making is that I really have enough confidence in what I choose that it doesn't matter if it is in style or accepted, much less embraced. I wear what I like which seems to be one of the only paths in my life whereby I have complete from the gut confidence.
It is only recently, however, and through the process of maturity (rather than aging) that I have come to realize that I need so little in order to drape myself with expression via my clothes. Sheepishly, I have always been an advocate of finding "deals" and accumulating "more" hence crowding my space and time with a hobby that can easily become a beast of burden.
So...during this ongoing season of revelational discovery, I began to give away. At first, with gusto and almost frenetic purging... until one entire room in my apartment was stark and empty. I began to find things, articles of clothing that I truly saw for the first time....I surmise, because in the frenzy of procuring "more," I overlooked the beauty of the fit, the make, the design, the fabric, the feel. It was fun to put together new looks to signify outwardly what I was feeling inwardly.
Eventually, I moved to the attic, where I uncovered pieces of clothing I had long forgotten. They told stories...of walking away from a horrendous mistake of a marriage in such haste that I rapidly boxed garments and had the movers hide them far from my memory. Pulling them out piece by piece was cathartic, and empowering as I discarded some things and held dearly to others.
Some of the giveaway process has been bittersweet to the point of bringing me to tears. I feel embarrassment that I equated so much of my self worth with what I had, what I wore, what I showed materialistically to the world. The clothes have hidden me. It has been a sad revelation to note THAT diversion....that huge elephant in the middle of the room.
There were bittersweet moments when I realized that no, I do not need five cobalt blue jackets, yet I love them all in each of their uniquely different way, so how do I part with all but one?
And then the memories derived from wearing a piece. A purple Ralph Lauren blazer in a size far too tiny for my frame...denoting a time when I was in such personal peril that it actually fit. A gauzy white crocheted mini that gave me pause as I remembered being in love and wearing it to celebrate nothing more than a Tuesday walk in the park.
I gave them all away.
Fashion is a genre. It is defined by consumerism, expression, social class, and to some extent, worth and value. I see it as a blank canvas form of definition that changes with the underpinnings of my life experiences. I love that! I love changing the way I am feeling with fabric, and combination, and LOOK.
Sometimes fashion means more to me than others...yet it always represents my spirit. I feel very little if any fear within this avenue of expression. I don't really change my underlying style from work to play...it's always edgy and somewhat controversial. Hope I can express that without sounding completely enrapt in myself, as I suppose the point I am making is that I really have enough confidence in what I choose that it doesn't matter if it is in style or accepted, much less embraced. I wear what I like which seems to be one of the only paths in my life whereby I have complete from the gut confidence.
It is only recently, however, and through the process of maturity (rather than aging) that I have come to realize that I need so little in order to drape myself with expression via my clothes. Sheepishly, I have always been an advocate of finding "deals" and accumulating "more" hence crowding my space and time with a hobby that can easily become a beast of burden.
So...during this ongoing season of revelational discovery, I began to give away. At first, with gusto and almost frenetic purging... until one entire room in my apartment was stark and empty. I began to find things, articles of clothing that I truly saw for the first time....I surmise, because in the frenzy of procuring "more," I overlooked the beauty of the fit, the make, the design, the fabric, the feel. It was fun to put together new looks to signify outwardly what I was feeling inwardly.
Eventually, I moved to the attic, where I uncovered pieces of clothing I had long forgotten. They told stories...of walking away from a horrendous mistake of a marriage in such haste that I rapidly boxed garments and had the movers hide them far from my memory. Pulling them out piece by piece was cathartic, and empowering as I discarded some things and held dearly to others.
Some of the giveaway process has been bittersweet to the point of bringing me to tears. I feel embarrassment that I equated so much of my self worth with what I had, what I wore, what I showed materialistically to the world. The clothes have hidden me. It has been a sad revelation to note THAT diversion....that huge elephant in the middle of the room.
There were bittersweet moments when I realized that no, I do not need five cobalt blue jackets, yet I love them all in each of their uniquely different way, so how do I part with all but one?
And then the memories derived from wearing a piece. A purple Ralph Lauren blazer in a size far too tiny for my frame...denoting a time when I was in such personal peril that it actually fit. A gauzy white crocheted mini that gave me pause as I remembered being in love and wearing it to celebrate nothing more than a Tuesday walk in the park.
Friday, November 12, 2010
It's better to burn out than fade away
Today Neil Young is 65.
In keeping with the theme of revisiting my college days, I am remembering leaving the U of A and the impact this song had on me during that time. I awakened one morning and decided it was time for me to leave. I packed my belongings into my red Ford Fiesta and drove to the record store. There I bought "Out of the Black" by Neil Young, along with Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's Greatest Hits and "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen. I drove away with the stereo blaring as loud as it would go.
Each time I hear "....it's better to burn out than fade away," I think wistfully of that last day in Tuscaloosa so many years ago.
In keeping with the theme of revisiting my college days, I am remembering leaving the U of A and the impact this song had on me during that time. I awakened one morning and decided it was time for me to leave. I packed my belongings into my red Ford Fiesta and drove to the record store. There I bought "Out of the Black" by Neil Young, along with Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young's Greatest Hits and "Born to Run" by Bruce Springsteen. I drove away with the stereo blaring as loud as it would go.
Each time I hear "....it's better to burn out than fade away," I think wistfully of that last day in Tuscaloosa so many years ago.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
That which lies dormant
I walked away from the last post. I will bank it away for another time and begin anew with a clean slate.
So much to think about and ponder tonight. Wishing everyone I love childlike, carefree and refreshing rest. Goodnight moon.
So much to think about and ponder tonight. Wishing everyone I love childlike, carefree and refreshing rest. Goodnight moon.
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