So tonight I got to thinking... who was the masochist that decided we would all make resolutions right after the holidays? Seriously. This holiday season has my head spinning. First there is Thanksgiving, and this year to add to the craziness almost every retailer decided to open smack dab in the middle of Thanksgiving day for Black Friday shopping... add in a doozy of an argument between myself and the matriarch about disciplining children (in which I was reminded again that I don't have any) and that was enough to have me running for the hills until I had to show my face again for Birthday and Christmas festivities.
Which brings me to the middle of my Christmas/New Year's Holiday "staycation". I normally like to take all the random days off in between the holidays and weekends because I feel I get to maximize my time off from work by doing this. When I do this I like to stay down at my parent's because all my sisters are there and friends are in town and it's just easier to get around to those I want to visit. Well the fiasco that was Thanksgiving 2013 is behind us but now I find myself in a peculiar place. I have realized that being a 32 year old so dependent on the family I grew up in for my love, support and happiness is no longer enough. Sure it's a cozy little nucleus most of the time but when things go off the rails it only serves as a reminder to me that if I would move on and make my own life I wouldn't have to feel like the drama effects me so much.
On Christmas Eve we broke out the old home videos, think 1999-2001 and all I could think looking at myself was, I used to be much more quiet and reserved. I was a whole heck of a lot thinner. I wore makeup. I took care of myself for the most part. So here I am with my 18-20 year old self in front of me right on the eve of a New Year and all I can think is... if I go to the gym everyday maybe someday I can be that size again.
I also have had the chance this break to meet up with old friends- friends who have known me "pre-marriage" and I'm getting the feeling that my grace period has ran out. It was ok the year of my divorce when I felt I couldn't even breathe, and the couple years after that it was acceptable to "not have any money" or to "be scared shitless to date" and then there was that year that I was looking for a job and that was the main focus. But now things have been pretty steady for the past couple years, and with a few car problems aside the excuses have ran out and while some friends are more gentle when they ask, "Really? You haven't found anyone that you'd want to date?" Some friends have shown a little tough love asking the really hard questions, "what do you want? You want to be a travel writer? You have to travel to do that! So what are you going to do?"
I'm not mad at my friends for asking me these questions, I'm glad I have family and friends who know where I've been and know that I'm capable of so much more than what I have been doing with my life lately. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I have a job and can make ends meet, but there has got to be so much more than the life that I am setting myself up to have.
I don't want to be the girl that got divorced and never knew the love of a man again, I don't want to be the daughter that is always reminded that she doesn't have kids, I don't want to be the girl that makes the same goals every year and everyone knows that she won't accomplish them or change.
So... we go through all these visits with family and friends, we're reminded of who we once were before hearts were broken, before we gave up on ourselves, and before we stopped dreaming of bigger things. And then we are faced with a New Year, a promise of a chance to begin anew! Does anyone else see this as a crazy equation?!?!?!?!
So this next year, I want to push myself. That's it. I don't want to make any grandiose statements of what pushing myself entails but I want to be kind to myself but with a firm resolve. I'm tired of beating myself up for being overweight, I'm tired of counting off the years since I last made love to someone, I'm tired of being the girl whose self worth comes from an alcoholic father, a husband who walked away and a couple of rotten ovaries. So instead of curling up and watching re-runs or eating food that comforts me in the moment I'm going to be kind to myself in other ways and push through all the emotions and bullshit until I find what I really want, because the only thing that I do know for sure is that the status quo hasn't been cutting it and I'm finally far enough away from the main source of hurt that I can see it's time to force myself to push. Stay tuned.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Monday, December 9, 2013
2013: A Year in Review (Books & Music Edition)
Last year I started what I would like to become a yearly tradition where I take a look at what were my personal favorite albums and books of 2013! Since we only have a few new release Tuesdays to go and I don't see my mind changing at this point, without further adieu...
She & Him: Volume 3
What can Zooey Deschanel do wrong? I love this lady! Her sugary sweet touch of old fashion sounding tunes are just what I need to get me swaying in my chair at work! Let me start with her and M. Ward's remake of "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me"... I adore this song to begin with, it always reminds me of my mom from when I was a little girl. They master this song, they own it. It's sooooo good!
Other songs that I love on this goodie:
"I've got your number son"
"Never wanted your love"
"Baby"
"Somebody Sweet to talk to"
"Sunday Girl"
"London"
Heck, they're all fun! BUY this album now!
And in the grand tradition of last year here are some honorable mentions (surprisingly even though some of my favorite male artists came out with albums this past year... Jay Nash & Amos Lee, this year really is all about the girls)!!! Here are the honorable mentions...
Laura Marling: Once I Was An Eagle
I love this album if not solely just because it knocked that damn Ed Sheeran off the top of the singer-songwriter charts for a brief moment in time. Just kidding. That aside, no one who has ever heard Laura Marling can deny that she is this generation's Bob Dylan. A brilliant singer-songwriter. I had the pleasure of seeing her this year perform in an old church and she is phenomenal! Awkward, but amazing! Here is an artsy video she made of the first 4 songs on the album:
http://youtu.be/R7eRrTKmYO0
My favorite song on this album: "Saved these Words"
When she sings the following line, man, do I really get down in my volvo station wagon (lol):
"Should you choose
should you choose
to love anyone
anytime soon
then I save these words for you
you weren't my curse
you weren't my curse
thank you naivety
for failing me again
he was my next verse"
Carla Bruni: Little French Songs
Perfect for a bubble bath! Enough said!
And lastly...
HAIM: Days Are Gone
Sure I'm not hip and cool and I have no idea how to say their name, but the only thing you need to know is these girls are hip and cool and this album will rock your socks off at the gym!
Now onto books...
1.
Elizabeth Gilbert: The Signature of All Things
Just when you think one of your favorite authors has wrote their best book ever and will never be able to top it: they do! Am I saying this book is better than my oh so beloved Eat, Pray, Love? No, I'm just saying it's equally good in a totally different way! Gilbert switches gears here and goes back to Fiction, something she's done before. But this is Historical Fiction (one of my favorite genres) and she rocks it!!! Who would have ever thought a book about a botanist in pre-Civil War America would be so fascinating?!?!?!? And to top it off the botanist is obsessed with moss (for those who don't know, I adore moss)! The character Alma stays with you long after you've read the last page. I don't want to give any of the story away, but read this book! If someone asks you what you want for the holidays... this is what you need to tell them you need in your life!
I had the pleasure of meeting this extremely personable author this year, she was so kind and signed all my books (I looked like a super fan extraordinaire... but a safe one, not a crazy)!
2.
MUSIC
1.
Julie Roberts: Good Wine & Bad Decisions
The best album this year you've probably never heard of (unless you are a Country fan) comes from the lovely and talented Julie Roberts! I've been a fan of Julie since her first album came out back in 2004, but man this one takes the cake!!! I first heard she had an album coming out this year on the music website called pledgemusic. If you've never heard of this site it's really cool, artists will put up items that people can pledge on (things like, an early digital copy of the album, or an in home concert, an old guitar, etc) and once they reach their goal they are able to release their album. The cool thing is once you the fan make a pledge you are then privy to all sorts of cool videos and letters from the artist about the process that is going into making the album. Julie is a really down to earth and in touch with her fans kind of person anyway on her facebook and such (she even gave a shout out to Colorado during the floods); but once I had access to the pledgemusic site I was able to really see how the album was coming along.
This album was the first album in decades to be released on Sun Records (the same label that was home to legends like Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley) and boy is it filled to the brim with delicious Memphis goodness! Julie was made to sing country (and no not the pop Taylor Swift kind) but good ol' down home move you in your soul country! Her voice is amazing and her lyrics are just what the doctor ordered: they're filled with longing and sexiness! Here are some of my favorite lines (starting with the opening line of the album, and the title track):
"It don't matter what dress I put on
we both know it won't stay on for long
And these heels all their good for
Is walking through your door
and laying on your bedroom floor
Good wine and bad decisions
Hey a little lovin' never hurt no one"
"Sometimes a girl just don't like to be alone
Two old flames burning bright
Oh it sure feels right
If only for one night"
My other standout song is called "Keep Me Up All Night" (are we seeing a theme yet?)
"Be my hot pot of coffee baby
Keep me up all night"
"Sometimes a lack of shut eye's just
what a body needs"
"Be my summer church tent revival
lead me back to the light"
"I swear tomorrow morning I won't mind
Keep me up all night"
Then there is a tune called "Old Strings" that I just can't stop listening too:
"I should open the windows
and let some light in
but I just pour some wine
and play these old strings again"
And, let me not forget to say that her version of the classic "Gasoline and Matches" blows LeAnn Rimes and Rob Thomas's version out of the water!
I could go on and on... but I won't. Check her out, she rocks!
2.
Lou Doillon: Places
This amazing artist hails from France! She is Charlotte Gainsbourg's sister and Jane Birkin's daughter. So basically she comes from Parisian music and fashion gods! Her famous family aside, she has put out an album that I am in love with!!! My favorite songs (possibly of the year) are ICU and Places.
Here's a sample, from ICU:
"So I drag myself to the corner cafe
And for a second I see you there
like in the good old days
And I wonder what you're doing
what are you up to these days
I sometimes wish you would call me
but then I wouldn't know what to say
And I see you
In the cabs that go by
in the strangers
at every crossroad
in every bar"
"Cause all that's left now are my dreams and memories
but I'm glad you came through my life and put your stain on me"
And from Places (which in a perfect world would win a million awards for the best songwriting):
"We figured it out
creation and God
Imposed our beliefs
yeah cause their better than yours
don't you know it?
perfectioned our weapons
but we still need more
to balance our peace
we're selling you war
can you afford it?"
You just have to listen to that song, it's poetic. Days when I would listen to NPR driving into work and be in awe at the state of the world (a congress that won't budge, chemical warfare in Syria, terrorists taking over a mall in Kenya, the list goes on and on)... anyways, I would turn off the radio and put this album and jam out to this song singing so hard! I love it!
Do yourself a favor and check out Lou Doillon, a true talent!
3.
What can Zooey Deschanel do wrong? I love this lady! Her sugary sweet touch of old fashion sounding tunes are just what I need to get me swaying in my chair at work! Let me start with her and M. Ward's remake of "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me"... I adore this song to begin with, it always reminds me of my mom from when I was a little girl. They master this song, they own it. It's sooooo good!
Other songs that I love on this goodie:
"I've got your number son"
"Never wanted your love"
"Baby"
"Somebody Sweet to talk to"
"Sunday Girl"
"London"
Heck, they're all fun! BUY this album now!
And in the grand tradition of last year here are some honorable mentions (surprisingly even though some of my favorite male artists came out with albums this past year... Jay Nash & Amos Lee, this year really is all about the girls)!!! Here are the honorable mentions...
I love this album if not solely just because it knocked that damn Ed Sheeran off the top of the singer-songwriter charts for a brief moment in time. Just kidding. That aside, no one who has ever heard Laura Marling can deny that she is this generation's Bob Dylan. A brilliant singer-songwriter. I had the pleasure of seeing her this year perform in an old church and she is phenomenal! Awkward, but amazing! Here is an artsy video she made of the first 4 songs on the album:
http://youtu.be/R7eRrTKmYO0
My favorite song on this album: "Saved these Words"
When she sings the following line, man, do I really get down in my volvo station wagon (lol):
"Should you choose
should you choose
to love anyone
anytime soon
then I save these words for you
you weren't my curse
you weren't my curse
thank you naivety
for failing me again
he was my next verse"
Perfect for a bubble bath! Enough said!
And lastly...
Sure I'm not hip and cool and I have no idea how to say their name, but the only thing you need to know is these girls are hip and cool and this album will rock your socks off at the gym!
Now onto books...
1.
Just when you think one of your favorite authors has wrote their best book ever and will never be able to top it: they do! Am I saying this book is better than my oh so beloved Eat, Pray, Love? No, I'm just saying it's equally good in a totally different way! Gilbert switches gears here and goes back to Fiction, something she's done before. But this is Historical Fiction (one of my favorite genres) and she rocks it!!! Who would have ever thought a book about a botanist in pre-Civil War America would be so fascinating?!?!?!? And to top it off the botanist is obsessed with moss (for those who don't know, I adore moss)! The character Alma stays with you long after you've read the last page. I don't want to give any of the story away, but read this book! If someone asks you what you want for the holidays... this is what you need to tell them you need in your life!
I had the pleasure of meeting this extremely personable author this year, she was so kind and signed all my books (I looked like a super fan extraordinaire... but a safe one, not a crazy)!
2.
Wally Lamb: We Are Water
What a delicious book! I love this author! I love how he sucks you into his stories so that all you want to do is hole up in your home and read every last page... no distractions. The only thing that makes me sad when I finish one of his books is that I will have so long to wait before another one comes out! This story takes place in America in the Obama era, and addresses a huge topic: Marriage Equality. But it doesn't stop there: depression, love, incest, a flood, this book covers it all. This book is so nicely done, I just adore it!
I also got to see this author this year (for my second time ever). Wally Lamb is just the most adorable man, so warm. Who couldn't love an author and a book where the author signs:
Love Wins! What an awesome message, what an awesome book!
3.
The Circle: Dave Eggers
If you actually follow this blog you will know that I hold Eggers up there in the same light that I hold Liz Gilbert in. They are my faves, so naturally he is going to make the list. This book is a technology thriller, and in the spirit of a year when we find out the NSA has been listening to our phone calls, and social media just keeps expanding, and being plugged in to everyone and everything at all times is more and more the norm; I found myself routing for the main character to rage against the machine! Whether she does or not that is up to you to find out by reading this book. If you do read the book, let's discuss!
And the honorable mention goes to...
Khaled Hosseini: And the Mountains Echoed
Not as good as his first two books, but he is a master storyteller, so even when he is not at his best he is still light years ahead of other writers. This time he takes multiple characters and tells all their stories individually and you see how they are all connected. Another powerful book under his belt, I can't wait for the next one!
Well, that's it! What are some of your favorite books or albums from this year?
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Worth Fighting For
Curled up on this freezing Sunday morn with "Worth Fighting For" by Lisa Niemi Swayze. She wrote the book 6 months after her husband, Patrick Swayze, lost his battle with Pancreatic cancer. Their previous book that they wrote during the heroic time where he lived with the disease chronicled their relationship in the most honest of lights. So needless to say, Lisa doesn't re-hash all of that here, what she's doing is telling the story of how "there is a high price to be paid for the privilege of caring for your loved one when he's dying" and how she wouldn't trade it for anything.
There is a part so poignant when she talks about how everyone talks about divorce rates and how to cope with divorce but nobody really talks about what happens when you keep your vows and you get to the "till death do us part" promise. No one really talks about that, how you say goodbye, how you continue living.
There is another description that I love,
"I also felt the physical evidence of this adrenaline when I worked out in our dance studio. I felt stronger than I had in a long time. As if I were eighteen, my leg whooshed up with effortless intention. Magic. I sat down to play piano, and I was faster and more adept than ever...I had this feeling as if I could leap over buildings in a single bound simply...because I could. I felt an incredible ability to overcome. That, or crash and burn big-time! For real, I had an incredible obstacle ahead of me. Both Patrick and I did...it was, how do we find a way to make him live? Yeah, just a little thing. And it was like my body was powering up for this, streamlining for the task ahead and leaving unnecessary encumbrances behind.
Maybe it was the terrible grief I was already feeling that was pumping new energy through my veins, or maybe it was really that grief was pulling off the layers of clothing to reveal the 'authentic' me under the cloak of all things, all the personalities I've tried so hard to be.
One thing for sure. I didn't need to be bothered with any of that stuff now. I was traveling light."
I love how when it was time to fight, her body responded! I love how the fight stripped everything down to what was really important and to who they were at the core! I love that she was traveling light!
***
I'm a lucky girl, because like most girls of the 80's I had an insane crush on this woman's beautiful husband. My bedroom wall had a giant sized poster of him splashed above my bed, I watched faithfully with my mom one season as the North & South miniseries unfolded in our living room weekly, and because I was in Utah and raised to be a prude I snuck bits and pieces of Dirty Dancing every time it was airing on HBO... feeling guilty as I watched Johnny Castle teach Baby how to dance. When I played house with my cousins and siblings often times I was married to "Patrick Swayze" (when I was taking time off from Dylan Mckay of course); and when my mom took me to see Ghost in the movie theatre I peed in my pants because I was too afraid to miss any moment of the movie, I can remember my mom tying her jacket around my waist; the point is like most girls of the 80's I was a bit obsessed. But unlike most of the other girls I actually got to meet this man.
It was November 2006, a little over a year before the Swayze's would receive the diagnosis that would change their world. It was a cold London night, the day after America's Thanksgiving. David and I were down in London to stay the night; grab about as nice of a Mexican meal as one could find in the whole of the UK and to see a musical. But this wasn't any musical... this was Guys & Dolls starring... you guessed it! Patrick Swayze! We got dinner early, and made our way over to London's West End to get to the theatre early so I could try to spot him. Well, we were not the only ones with that idea, many people were standing outside the theatre waiting for the arrival of Mr. Swayze. Some with tickets to the show, some without; it was a gigantic hodgepodge of touristy Americans, and adoring Brits!
Just as I was realizing that our chances of getting anything other than a passing photo with everyone else's cameras held high and flashes going off were slim to none; a security guard pulled me aside, leaned in, and whispered, "He's not coming in this way, he's coming around the back side, quietly." I looked at him as he motioned with his eyes and a nod of his head that I should walk around the corner. So we did, casually, cooly. When we got over to the abandoned side of the building in a dark alley, I went over it with Dave. Is this guy pulling our leg? Did I look crazy? Do I? Is that why he told us to leave? What if we miss his arrival? As I was debating what to do... (mostly with myself), a door opened and light and music spilled out into the alley. That same guard walked through the door and told us that Patrick would be arriving in a matter of moments and that we should stay back and he would approach Patrick and see if he had a moment to stop.
Sure enough the car pulled up and I could see him in the back seat, the guard walked over, opened the back door, leaned in and said something quietly to Patrick who then looked over the guards shoulder to us standing against the wall staring back at him. Patrick nodded and then walked towards us. I don't remember the exact exchange of words (I was a bit star struck, but trying to act normal). He asked if I'd like a picture? Boy did I!!! I remember thinking... Patrick Swayze has his arm around my waist. His beautifully sculpted, lifting women out of water above his head arm around my waist!!! Is this for real? As he turned and started walking away, I stammered out one last thing, "Thank you!!! I've loved you since I was a little girl!" In hindsight this probably wasn't the best thing to say, it could make him feel old. But he smiled, and he said, "Thank you, thank you." And it wasn't pompous, it was sincere.
***
In the book, his wife talks about how he had grown self-concious about the fact that you are only as great as your last movie in the eyes of Hollywood. Reading the book that they wrote together and now reading this one I have a whole new appreciation for him. Not only was he the stuff my girly dreams were made of, but he loved big! He and his wife had a love so big and real that it truly is something worth fighting for. All too often we settle, or we give up, or we take for granted. I'm waiting for something worth fighting for.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
This little game I play
For almost every moment of my life worth remembering I guarantee you deep within my psyche there is a song intrinsically tied to it.
So occasionally I like to put the old itunes library on shuffle and play this little game I like to call, "When I listen to", the rules are easy, a song comes on and undoubtedly I can tell you the memory or feelings that pops up when I listen to that song.
In tonight's game of Russian Roulette, (I call it this because obviously some songs bring better memories while some can make you feel like an emotional cutter crying in the corner) but, alas tonight we've got a young and vibrant memory! (whew)!
Reel Big Fish: Alternative, Baby
When I listen to Reel Big Fish's "Alternative, Baby" I am instantly 17 years old and I am sitting in the passenger seat of a sea green colored Toyota Tercel. I am being driven around the suburban sprawl that is Aurora, CO. The driver is a boy that was the cause of all of my holed up in my room listening to Sarah McLachlan sessions. It was the 90's; he had sideburns and smoked cigarettes. He was the stuff my Dylan McKay dreams were made of, except he could sing. Everclear, The Refreshments, Reel Big Fish, you name it.
When the song would get to the chorus, "Hey little alternative girl, say don't you want to be my friend? You know I'm singing all my songs for you but it's alright, you don't understand!" I would convince myself that I really was his little alternative girl, and when I wasn't zooming around town in his Tercel I would play the song in my room dancing all around high on the innocence and hope that can truly only infect the unjaded.
I can still see the way he would put that cigarette to his lip and ash it out the cracked window, he would inhale and blow his smoke to his left out the window. In my memory it's always raining. It's hard to remember just how he could smoke, shift gears, and keep singing every word to every song and looking at me on particular lines. It truly was a private performance as we rolled through intersections where the green lights shined in the puddles on the road.
I remember when we were first getting to know each other and I was trying to impress him with all the "cool" people I knew, except in reality I was only a mere acquaintance to these people, he stopped me in the middle of my story and asked me, "Why do you care so much about those people and what they think?" And there it was. An alternative. A proposition. Karstee, you don't have to try to fit in with these people, this is where you belong. And from that moment I was free. Free to be me.
The rest of high school is filled with memories of him. And I'm sure that half of my music catalogue could bring up different memories of him... laying on the hood of the car looking at stars, swinging on the front porch swing in the middle of the night, our sleepovers that came much later after high school; but when Reel Big Fish's, "Alternative, Baby" comes on I am forever 17 and cruising around with him.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Bath, UK
Dave Eggers wrote in You Shall Know Our Velocity that, “You
see the rest of the world and then you come back.” I had written that quote down and put it on
my vision board. Vision boards were new
in my life, mine was supposed to help me realize my dreams and goals and bring
them to fruition. However, in the fall
of 2010 a trip to England with my best friend Brandi beckoned; sure I had once
lived there but all the pieces fell perfectly into place and so I found myself
breaking Eggers’ cardinal rule by returning to a place I’d already been before
seeing the rest of the world.
Thankfully, our hostess and good friend, Janet lived in a part of
England that I had not gotten the chance to explore previously, and so the
three of us made a pact that we would only go places that none of us had
been.
On
the latter half of our trip, it became clear that there was one place that was
calling my name and I just couldn’t resist visiting once more: Bath.
I knew I would regret it if I came all the way to England and didn’t
visit my favorite city in the world. We
picked a day that we hadn’t filled with an agenda, loaded up the car early in
the morning, and were on our way. Janet,
living in Cambridgeshire was a little further from Bath than I had been living
in Oxfordshire, so I had stayed up the night before making the most amazing mix
albums that would make the time pass on our long drive. I decided it was time for these girls to be
exposed to Laura Marling, a British folk singer-songwriter that I had
discovered, oddly enough, once I was back in the States. Marling had won me over, with the line, “I
throw creation to my kin.” I didn’t know
what those words meant to Miss Marling, but to me they were my world.
The year 2008 had
been a big year for me, I had moved back to the States from this beautiful
country, survived a divorce, and was told that I would probably never be able
to have children of my own. Depression
settled in and needless to say, in 2008 I found it a miracle that I even woke
up every morning to face another day.
Granted, when I did, I was usually in an Ambien induced haze and I
usually spent the morning cleaning up the trail of margarita salt that had
followed me around the house the night before.
In 2009 I finally learned how to push down the overwhelming feelings
that threatened to take me over and I learned how to function again… until, I
had a seizure! Tests were run and the only conclusion they could come to was
that I was bottling things up inside too much and that I should see a
therapist. So in a therapists’ room, on
a couch, under a quote painted on the wall that said, “You will either step
forward into growth or you will step backward into safety,” I unpacked the fact
that my husband had decided to divorce me over the phone and that I would never
see him again. I unpacked the hospital
stay when I had surgery on my ovaries--- the stay that I couldn’t believe he
wasn’t actually going to be there for, the stay where I had to change my
emergency contact information from my husband to my mother, the stay where I
stood naked in a shower with tears streaming down as my mom washed my body
telling me I was going to feel better once I had a shower, the stay where I had
to walk past a window full of newborn babies in order to be discharged from the
hospital. I unpacked in that therapists’
room, on that couch, under that quote.
So
here we were, in 2010, on a road to my past.
As we drove those winding roads, the windows down, I started to panic…
Was going back a mistake? What kind of
issues was this going to bring to the surface?
Would I have an anxiety attack? A
seizure? Was I strong enough? I took a deep breath, and told myself, “You
are going to be ok.” Bath had managed to
remain my favorite city simply because of the fact that it was pretty neutral;
I knew I wouldn’t be dodging as many emotional landmines as other places,
namely Oxford. My memories of Bath were
mostly filled with other characters from my past, not the ghost that had been
following me around the past couple years.
As we got closer
to Bath, the hills became an even more brilliant shade of green; the hedges
stretched across the landscapes as far as the eye could see; and the stonewalls
with moss growing in every crevice raced along the road beside us. We rounded a corner only to see the most
beautiful hot air balloon perched in the bluest of clear skies, Brandi gasped
and it reminded me of how I had felt the first time I ever saw the Eiffel
Tower. Unfortunately there was nowhere
to pull over for her to take photos, but I could hear her snapping frantically
from the back seat having thrown off her seat belt and propped herself up in
the window.
In
my own photos of Bath, in my photo album back home, it was clear that England
was always portraying its typical weather for my visitors and friends; but one
thing you learn when you live in England is that if you have plans and it’s
raining-- you go anyways! There were
pictures of my sister looking glum in front of the Roman baths as a dark sky
threatened another rainstorm (turns out my sister wasn’t the biggest fan of
England and its weather, but I was so happy to have her there), pictures of
Janet and her husband Thomas bundled in winter clothes sitting on a bench in
front of the abbey from when they had come to visit, it was November and you
could practically see their breath in the photo (they had loved it so much,
however, that they decided to apply for an assignment overseas as soon as they
got back home), photos of the Christmas market and my friends drinking hot
cocoa or standing in the French Brasserie warming their mittens on the
radiator. Turning into the city and
seeing all the uniformed cream colored limestone buildings, it was abundantly
clear that one thing about this trip was extremely different than all the other
times that I had visited: the sun was shining gloriously over everything!
Once we had parked
and made our way on foot to the square out front of the abbey, Brandi had tears
in her eyes and she told us that this place was so beautiful it was making her
well up. It may sound cliché, but it
truly is that breathtakingly beautiful!
We walked all around and inside the abbey; I pointed out the sculpted
angels climbing ladders towards the sky on the outside, they had always been my
favorite part. We walked around the
outside of the Roman Baths and debated paying the steep price to go in, but
since I had seen them multiple times and Janet had seen them we left it up to
Brandi. She was more into staying off
the tourist path so she could take pictures of the architecture and the locals,
so we gave her a quick overview. Janet
reminded me of the fact that Queen Mary (not the Queen Mary that everyone first
wants to think of… this was a Mary that came much later) had visited the baths
hoping the magical waters would cure her infertility, and it did! I couldn’t help but remember taking a tour of
the baths with my husband and him daring me to touch the water despite all of
the many signs and guards warning visitors to not do that very thing. Of course I had done it, and as Janet
explained more facts to Brandi, I couldn’t help but wonder why the water hadn’t
cured my infertility issues? That time I
had visited the baths and had touched the water I hadn’t verbally acknowledged
the fact that there was an issue, but multiple negative pregnancy tests had
been weighing on my mind.
Deciding
to skip the tour of the baths, the three of us girls headed up the streets to
the Jane Austen museum, I had begun collecting a set of Austen books that I
could only find the particular edition of at that museum. Unlucky for me, they still hadn’t released
the edition of Mansfield Park that I
needed to complete my collection, and sadly enough there was no publication
date in sight. We made our way through
the museum and decided to walk back down the cobblestoned street to the squares
around the abbey and find a nearby pub.
As we walked past a bookstore, I stopped in my tracks; in the window was
a book with Jack Kerouac on the cover looking right at me with his mouth wide
open. I went inside to examine the book
closer; it was called Beat Memories: The
Photographs of Allen Ginsberg, I remembered reading about the release of
this book earlier that year. Reading
Kerouac for the first time had been an experience I will never forget, it had
been like an alarm telling me that I had been living life all wrong and that
there was another me longing to be set free.
Seeing him on the streets of Bath was like a sign that I was finally
heading in the right direction. I put
down the book and we pressed on.
Walking anywhere
new with Brandi is a process because she sees the world in little glimpses that
she needs to capture, she sees a photo opportunity around every corner, between
every human transaction; yet she insists we don’t wait for her, so we end up
moseying and it’s ok because I am able to soak in every step, and I know that
later she will give me copies of her pictures and seeing Bath through her lens
will make me wonder if we had even been on the same trip, she has such an
authentic way of viewing the world.
We eventually
stumbled across a pub that I happened to know had the most fabulous chips and
mushy peas (I’ve never understood why everyone puts all the emphasis on fish
and chips, when what is really delicious is dipping your chips in the side of
mushy peas that inevitably comes with most fish and chips plates). Oh how I had missed the mushy peas! As we sat in a pub I’d been to before, in a
city I’d visited many times; I couldn’t help but acknowledge how different it
felt being there because I was different.
Feeling
content now that we’d had something to eat; we decided to go enjoy the musician
in the square before we’d have to get back in the car if we were going to make
it back to Cambridge at a decent hour.
As we were walking past a fudge shop Brandi told us to go on without
her; she would be able to find us in the square, which was just ahead. Janet and I sat down on a bench and listened
silently to a man in the center of the square playing a Spanish guitar. Tourists sat leisurely around listening and
taking pictures, pigeons flew all over the square, and locals went about their
usual business bustling through the crowd with determined looks on their
faces. The sun was in a spot where the
abbey’s shadow covered most of the square but we were sitting on one of the few
benches left in the sunlight; I remember Janet putting her hand above her brow
to shield her eyes and turning to smile at me.
I adore her, I love the way she has a genuine kindness to every person
she meets, and the way she sees the world simply, never over analyzing every
little thing like Brandi and I do. As I
look at Janet I hear bells on a door chime and see Brandi come out of the fudge
shop on the corner of the square. She
comes skipping towards us; her long blonde hair looks like spun gold glistening
in the sun, her hands are cupped and they are filled to the brim with
strawberries that had been previously dipped in chocolate and had now hardened;
she looks like a little kid on Christmas morning, her smile stretched across
her face.
In therapy I was
later asked, “What do you think living at a “10” looks like?”
I
looked at my therapist, smiled, and was instantly filled with warmth.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Literary Inklings
When I was a little girl I could
always be found reading a book; while my siblings were out leading the
neighborhood in street hockey games of epic proportions; I would be curled up
in a chair somewhere reading stories that took me to far away places. Every Christmas my favorite gifts were the
ones that I had identified under the tree as books; they sat there so
delicately wrapped in paper that shined under the twinkling of the colored lights
laced throughout the tree branches. When
Christmas morning finally came, and after the big unwrapping event had ceased;
I would take my little treasures to my room and line them along the bookshelf
that my dad and grandpa had made me, and then I would begin the process of
choosing which one I should read first.
When I was a teenager I found myself spending my money from my part time
job on Oprah’s latest picks for her larger than life book club. Lastly, when I was married and in my twenties
I joined my first intimate book club; a group of women, American ex-pats, all
brought together in England because of our husbands jobs. We shared the duty of hosting book club once
a month, rotating between each other’s homes in our little cozy town in
Oxfordshire, England.
I came to discover
that I was not only involved in a book club that exposed me to cultures and
writers I had never explored before, but that right in the heart of this
beautiful county was a literary trove of writers and stories so historically
vast that I spent my days wandering in and out of their worlds; all of us
linked through time through a lovely university town called: Oxford.
I
remember the first time that I had gotten off the bus in Oxford, I decided to
get off somewhere along St. Giles only to promptly come to a group of
pedestrians standing outside a pub called, The Eagle and Child, I came to find
out that this pub had been frequented by none other than the literary greats,
J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. Tolkien
and Lewis had been a part of a literary discussion group called: The
Inklings. This group would mostly meet
at Magdalen College, the school in which Lewis lived, but occasionally the
group would meet at the pub. First
readings of The Lord of the Rings
were given here.
I
stepped inside and took a seat at a table; I ordered a diet coke, and in true
American style said, “no lemon, and with ice, please”. I wondered if they had sat at these very
tables? By this time The Lord of the Rings had already been
made into a movie trilogy that had taken the movie world by storm. Accumulatively nominated for 30 Academy
awards and winning 17, it could arguably be named the best trilogy in the
history of film. Sitting in this pub I
wondered if Tolkien could have ever imagined the heights that his works would
reach? I had worked at Barnes &
Noble in the states one Christmas as boxed sets of the beloved novels flew off
the shelves.
After
my soda, I decided to hit the pavement.
I wasn’t quite sure where I was going but my motto has always been: if I don’t know what exactly it is that I
want to see and I’ve never seen any of it, then it doesn’t exactly matter where
I wander, does it? So with that philosophy
in mind, I walked out of the pub and turned right seeing as how to the left
looked like nothing but boring houses and motor vehicles while to the right I
could see the beginnings of some shops, and more people on foot. I came to a corner with a Waterstone’s
bookstore, which was a chain bookstore in England. In the window was a flier announcing a night
with Ian McEwan coming soon. I jotted
down the date and time in my moleskin notebook in my purse. I didn’t go into Waterstone’s but was
reminded of another bookstore that a friend had told me I must visit when I
made it into town. The store was called
Blackwell’s and it was an institution in Oxford. I asked a passerby the whereabouts and lucky
for me it was just off the main road I had been traveling by a few blocks or
so. While Blackwell’s didn’t turn out to
be the journey for me that it had been for my neighbor, I thought it was a nice
bookstore overall with a rich history.
Apparently they had been the publisher of one of Tolkien’s first
poems. I imagine my neighbor felt about
the store the way I would feel if I ever got the chance to visit City Lights
Bookstore in San Francisco.
After perusing the
shelves I headed back down the road in the direction I had came to put me back
to the main street that I wanted to continue to explore further. I pressed on past many British chains all the
while remembering how my favorite United States President had attended
Oxford. At this point, President Clinton
had already released his book, My Life. I had listened to an audio version of it in
the car for months and had eventually bought a hard copy when I met him at a
book signing event in Washington D.C. It
made me wonder; were great people drawn to Oxford, or did those same people
only become great once they’d been to Oxford?
College students
were everywhere; female students pranced through town in their ballet flats and
with colorful scarves wrapped repeatedly around their necks; walking along with
their friends and laughing. I heard a
group of them behind me, “He just doesn’t like me because I’m soft!” I loved that, again, I made a note in my
moleskin; how much more flattering it sounded in England than in America when
one feels turned down because of their weight.
Male students looked studious in their peacoats and glasses, zipping
through the market street on their old fashioned looking bicycles.
I walked on and
eventually found myself at Christ Church College, I paid a small fee to enter
and before I knew it I was standing on the same staircase that Professor
McGonagall stands on when she greets the students to their very first meal at
Hogwarts in the children’s movie, Harry
Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone; based on the beloved children’s book of
the same title. I couldn’t believe it,
for years I had been obsessed with this series; reading every book upon its
midnight release, flying my sisters all over the world to go see the movies
with me. I could not wait to come back
to this spot with them when they came to town to visit me. Ahead of me at the top of the stairs was some
ruckus as large amounts of people gathered at an entrance waiting for their
turn to enter into the dining hall of the college, also used as the famous
dining hall in the Harry Potter franchise.
As I walked around
the room, people pointed out the stained glass windows inspired by Alice in Wonderland. Professor Lewis Carroll had been inspired
and written the book from Christ Church College. I couldn’t believe that students dined here,
beneath these windows in this great hall.
When I’d had enough of battling with tourists through the hall, I left
the building and just off the grounds and across the street from the college I
came to the smallest shop called, “Alice’s Shop.” It has become history that Carroll wrote his
story for the Dean of Christ Church’s daughter, Alice Liddell. Alice and her sisters had loved to visit this
hundreds of years old shop, and so in the sequel to Alice, Professor Carroll wrote the shop into Through the Looking Glass.
The shop nowadays sells little trinkets dedicated to the novels: tea
sets, books, and dolls.
As I left the tiny
souvenir shop I thought about my day; I had really only traveled the length of
a really long street. But this street
was not your average street, it was bookended by two literary masters: Tolkien and Carroll. If Hollywood is home to the stars then Oxford
could easily be home to the greatest writers of literature; sprawling
throughout time Oxford has housed some of the greatest minds that have come up
with some of the most enchanting stories.
I made my way back
to the bus stop in front of The Eagle and Child, thinking about my day. Because of the people that had once haunted
these streets, I not only got to visit Oxford, but I’ve been to Wonderland,
Narnia, and Middle Earth.
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