Some Fall Reflections

It's a weather confused Friday in Inman, SC as I prepare to return to NYC for the 3rd time in 2 months, (I tell ya, this place seems incredibly resistant to my presence in the city!) and on the fridge are two postcards, side by side.
One says, "Portland, Oregon," held up by a SHIFT computer key magnet. The other says, "New York," held up by a dancing monkey in a hat magnet.

It's funny the decisions we make in our lifetime, the paths we choose, the things we decide to pursue and the reasons why. Of course there will always be the times where we wonder to ourselves, did I choose correctly? Is it worth it? Am I doing the right thing? And the times when we think about all the things we aren't doing because of the path we chose (I am very guilty of this, it seems I will never be completely satisfied with where I am at any chosen moment, always wanting to be everywhere at once, doing everything I possibly can... I suppose you can say that I'm an experience junkie...) and it all comes down to what we decide to do with what we have given, with how we have set ourselves up, with what we give ourselves.

When I left NYC the last time, I was confused about being able to come back, which at the moment, was the only thing I could think about - When and How do I get back here as soon as possible?
And my wise friend Marianna said, "You just have to hold what you want in front of your face like a carrot."

And I thought... I have a bunch of carrots. Like, a lot of carrots.





Thankfully, I'm 22.
It's weird to have to remind yourself of your age, but really. Everything happens for a reason, and I have to remember that just because I am not doing absolutely everything right at this moment, like I want to be doing, I have a bunch of carrots in front of my face that represent both things to do and the amount of time to get them done.
The other thing I have to remember is, "Do not put off until tomorrow that which you are willing to die without having done," and I should have no problem achieving everything I have set myself to do.
No worrying necessary.

Here are some things my friends are doing, things that help keep me motivated to keep chasing all the things I want, and to not settle, to never settle.

Olivia Rae James' blog - she is traveling and having a blast in Europe.
http://www.olivia-rae.com/

Jesse and Natalie's blog, as they travel around Sri Lanka as US Ambassador's with Training for Trusteeship:
http://storiesfromthedustyroad.wordpress.com/


That said, I had a wonderful restful time at home.
I love home, and I am most thankful that I can always come back.

Some scenes from SC:

My sunny happy home

My Tree

My Bottles

 My curious and then tuckered out kitty baby

My favorite Charlestonians, Brooklyn and Kyle

My Charleston

My Suz

"Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone"

Monday

I wish I had a camera to document all of the things that I am seeing, hearing, doing.

Just today - a regular Monday, so many things happened.

I saw the restaurant from Seinfeld. It is 3 blocks away from my apartment. 

Ran through Riverside Park, past the benches where Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan meet in You've got Mail.

Created a cover letter and press kit for my internship, and doing a whole lot of proofreading (apparently I'm pretty decent at this... while I can't find documents hiding in the computer files, or create a dual-layer DVD, or do picture things in photoshop and indesign, I am damn good at describing the work of Shen Wei and recreating really bad previous press kits in favor of edited and revised, may potentially accurately describe the company and earn us money documents.) Yay for doing real work.

Stopped to listen to a cellist playing for Music Under New York - he was lovely.
http://www.mta.info/mta/aft/muny/
They audition to be in this program, to showcase their talents and abilities for the crowds that do not stop to hear them play. I was a little self-conscious standing there by myself in the busy bottom section of the Grand Central station, one of the places in NYC that fully exceeds all expectations of my NYC romanticism, but I couldn't pass up the moment to hear this wonderful man play one of my favorite instruments in one of the places that I could stand in all day and gaze around me in wonder at the history behind this city and the people that built it. Blows my mind. Everyday.

Also, because it reminded of videos and stories of famous musicians who play in public spaces and nobody bothers to stop and listen because they 1.) don't care 2.) don't have decent taste in music 3.) I'm not sure there is a 3rd and I refused to be that person. That said, I've given money to a cellist, a mariachi band, a violinist, an accordian player(!!) a man playing very loud steel drums from Trinidad (he yelled to me, "I'm from Trinidad!"), a Chinese man playing some very bizarre looking Chinese instrument and it was beautiful, and an opera singer in the park.
I'm gonna have to quit soon, or I really will be poor.
And even though I'm apparently a walking target for charity street team people, I have yet to give money to the Homeless Issue, Amnesty International, or Children International. I also once refused a girl selling chocolate to raise money for school but then the lady setting next to me on the subway and I exchanged looks and both ended up buying chocolate bars. The lady said she couldn't in conscience let her walk away, since she had 2 kids in school. I... am just a sucker for that kinda thing. And for chocolate. I also do not give money to people preaching to me in the subway. That is when I stick my nose in my book and stop looking around.
Seriously, that's why nobody looks at anybody else around here - otherwise begging individuals beeline for you. While not new, as I experienced a lot of this in India, it is on a very different scale.

On that note, I had Indian tonight with 2 acquaintances that I met during my study abroad time in India. Although we were all in different groups, etc. it was nice to see them, share what's been going on since we were all in India, and just see familiar faces. Of course, I promptly filled Riane in on everything, down to the haircuts.

And last but not least, (and this was the highlight of my day. Literally, I smiled all during my shower.)
I filled my roommates in on the value of an oven.
We have one, but no pans to use because they don't have ovens in India or China.
They just don't use them. So my roommates don't know what to do with one.

But now that they know lots of new things about the kitchen (like tomatoes and onions don't have to go in the fridge, bread stays fresher longer in freezer, you can put left over veggies/sauce/soup/fruit/meat in the freezer and use them again later, but the big freezers are not only for bodies, green potatoes are poisonous and you can make pizzas and cookies and cakes at home in the oven) I think they may just open a kitchen/bakery.
It was fun to see them so excited about being able to use an oven - they just never had anybody show them how to use it and now they want to have family dinners where they make things in the oven!

I hope tomorrow is just as interesting!

A new romance

 I ran across an article recently in Garden and Gun - "Redefining the Southern Belle" - that touched me. I had to share it. So I did. With my roommate. I read it. Then we all read it together. And then we talked about what it means to us, now that aren't on our own stomping grounds, to be Southern women. Now that we are out of college. Now that we have had encounters where people are interested or amused or bewildered or disrespectful of our backgrounds, our style, our accents, and our easy smiles. Now that we have learned to respect and appreciate where we are from.
We shared our experiences with each other.
And we did it while eating a plate of chocolate chip cookies in our underwear and the windows open.

It isn't something I thought I would talk about - at least not as freely as I have learned that I am capable of, once I get started. Rambling is not something new to me. Just the topic. I'm still feeling out my thoughts on the matter.
Anyways, we all agreed that it isn't something that we ever thought we would talk about. It wasn't until college that we came to value our history, our backgrounds, as Southern women.

And now, as we all sit in boiling hot apartment above a noisy street in New York City, listening to the drips and the sirens and the door slams and the traffic, feeling like dainty giants in our miniature apartment with our easy bake ovens and shared closets and no doors, and attempts to fulfill our dreams and hopes and wishes, chasing what seems attainable only in the "best city in the world", chasing lives as artists of various respects (metal works, dancer) and in various degrees, we speak of what it means, how it feels, and what will come of our transitions from lives we once detested and couldn't wait to get away from, to being proud, and yes, even a bit defensive of that life which we've (un?)willingly left behind. From tales of rude comments ("You are from SC? You speak English really well!") to invaluable words of wisdom from grandmothers (If you are uncomfortable in a new situation, the other person probably is, too. Step out, make the effort to speak to them - if you make them feel better, you'll feel better), we came to a bit of a conclusion that we couldn't seem to say properly... we are Southern. And we are capable of a great deal.
And maybe that's why we are here, in a tiny apartment above a busy city eating cookies in our underwear. We've got something to say, to show, to do, to be. And although this may be our first great springboard, we wouldn't have been able to launch if not for our backgrounds.
We look forward to people asking us where we are from. We have a lot to share.

We never really finished the discussion - just trailed into other topics, like ghosts and fine art and pixie hair cuts and the early morning run we are *going* to take/deciding to jump up and down for 20  minutes for the cardio that we missed out on this morning and tiny apartment yoga. And I'm not sure how she felt/feels about our conversation tonight, but I'm glad we talked. A bit aimlessly, and about nothing in particular, but it sure was nice to revisit what makes us unique in this big big pond.

Here is the article, and although I can't attest to all of the things the writer talks about, she sure said some of the things in just the right way:

http://gardenandgun.com/article/new-southern-belle?page=0%2C0



*provided we don't turn off our 6:30 am alarms... again.

today I watched some schoolkids try to cross the road, indulging in the freedom given to them by the parents to cross the road without them, without hands clasped. looking both ways, backpacks strapped to their tiny bodies, a few false starts prompts the tallest, and presumably the oldest girl, to utilize the Law of Life that states that The Oldest Born is the Most Wise and Therefore the Most Responsible by throwing her arm across the chest of the smaller children in her care, halting them from plunging headlong into the nonexistent traffic of Logan St. the same motion my mother does when we try to cross the road now, or when she brakes too fast in the car, a last ditch effort to save me from being propelled forward out the windshield. the same motion I do to my purse, cat, or vase of flowers that have the privilege of sitting in the front seat and therefore closest to being thrown out the front windshield when I (and I often do) brake too quickly.
And I remember that lesson, the lesson of How to Cross the Street.
I remember the day Mom asked me to go get the mail and I walked out the door, down the gravel driveway, across the road to the mailbox, to turn around and retrace my steps back to the house. Handing the mail to my mother, she looked down and said, "you didn't look both ways before you crossed that street." to which I responded with "but I used my ears and I didn't hear anything, and there was nothing in my periphery either," a new word that Carlos had recently taught me in Nutcracker rehearsals meaning to be able to see things out of the corners of your eyes without turning your head around to look and this meant nothing to my mother. She just gave me the look that all exasperated individuals use that says "you know better."
and now I'm my own crossing guard, deciding when it is safe to move forward, or better to stay put, or even when just to inch out a little bit further to see around that bush that nobody has bothered to trim back. it's the small lessons that get you through life.

the past few days have been a whirlwind of lessons learned, emotions double checked, feelings of jubilation with an undertone of relentless fear - of picture taking and hand shaking and food and dancing and long walks on the beach and long nights spent awake worrying about all of the animals and human beings that do not have shelter during big thunderstorms and conversations pertaining to adultish things that you talk about and deal with after one graduates, like What's Next and dealing with stress and benefit plans and insurance and gaining credit and aging and illness and dependency and death and loss and there are things I'm scared of and am not sure I can learn how to deal with, not sure I can make it through and there are many things out there that I can't imagine my life without, yet so many things that I can't imagine would affect me at all, as if the same Laws of Life don't apply to me, in certain situations.
And tonight my heart hurts. tonight my heart aches so badly for things that I can't believe, that I can't comprehend, for things that I don't want to believe, and that I don't want to understand. and I don't know if it is the child or the adult in me that wants to take everything and everyone I love and wrap them in a giant bubble and tie it to my wrist, so that I can keep them safe from the hard lessons, the pain, the uncertainty, the Laws of Life, to float up above my head where I know I can keep them all safe.

time

wouldn't it be great to be a camera on the bottom of the sea?
maybe a camera, an old camera, real retro, except not the 70s type
to represent age
because the sea is old
wouldn't it be great to be a camera on the bottom of the sea?
maybe a new one, that was riding on a yacht and was carefully placed in a baggie after it took bites out of time, freezing moments
carefully placed and sealed in a baggie so it doesn't get wet.
cameras are the things that matter these days
but that camera is air-sealed in that baggie on the bottom of the sea and wouldn't it be great if that camera was somehow even set with a timer and was just shooting picture after picture of the great sea
of what has shaped the earth
the old and the new combined
and then one day, years later when the sea has dried up and a man who was stranded on an island is trudging to his salvation across the great vast area that was once the bottom of the sea
maybe he was tumbling because i would assume there are many inclines and such
so is the bottom of the sea full of mountains?
wouldn't it be great if he found that camera in its baggie, dry as could be, and took it with him and had the camera opened and out came all of those pictures from years ago
releasing those time fragments and spitting out those images, the people stumbling from the camera, taking off their sun visors gingerly, pulling modestly at their swimsuits, feeling out the ground and the sea pictures melted - yes, melted - and turned from figurative sea pictures to the literal sea and snapshot after snapshot flowed out of the camera and the sea went right back into its hilly cavity and filled the earth all back up with water.
and time 

time was refilled

The small things so amazing sometimes.

When is the last time you just clicked through the speeds of your ceiling fan, click speed 1, pause and relish the slight breeze, your face lifted up towards the sky, click speed 2, and you can hear it now, a methodic whirring you can feel in the center of your being, it soothes the spot in the middle of your brain, behind your closed eyes, feel it as it seeps down your shoulders, picking up your hair and whirling it about, click speed 3, and it is really moving, trying its best to cool you down, it gets between your fingers, tracing the life lines of your palm,
and you want to share this bliss, this mystical moment of serenity.

You relax, a deep sigh, your shoulders drop a half inch and you rub the goosebumps on your forearms in delight. You smile. You're happy.

It is time for me to pick this up again.

Hope you don't mind.

I have the strange feeling of being homesick, without being homesick.

I guess I feel like something is missing, something important.
I have some longing, but I do not know what for.
It feels like some kind of change is there, but I do not know what change could happen.

I played the lying down game by myself the other day.
Which I think is a hysterical game, I just never thought I would play it so... impromptu.

Literally, if someone had taken a picture of the sleep crash I took halfway on my bed, they would have thought I was posing for the sake of the game, I did it so well.

Alas, the only remnants of my unexpected face down semi coma was the half finished text I didn't manage to send off, my super dry mouth from sleeping facedown on a cotton tapestry, and a growling stomach from missing dinner.

Fair warning - You may have gotten me this time, lying down game, but I'll be prepared next time.


http://www.lyingdowngame.net/

dayclean

Or in more understandable terms - Good morning!

I went to visit Poggy at Edisto over the weekend and just like always, I remembered how lucky I am to have such an amazing family. She went on a tour and learned some Gullah words - this is the one she shared with me.
What a great term - dayclean.
Completely exemplifies that concept of waking up with a clean slate, of sleeping it off, of picking up the pieces after getting some rest.

The way to Edisto is beautiful and we took advantage of the cooler weather and sunny afternoon and spent as much of our time together outside as we could, soaking up the happiness.
Poggy's friends were super cute, clearly having a blast at the beach, a total girl's weekend and were so welcoming, I couldn't help but take nap on their porch after a delish lunch.
They even made me a little bed of towels.

I can't wait until I can have those, even though the idea of not living at the beach with my girls taking a break from schoolwork to catch some rays plain terrifies me.

One thing I remembered thinking was that I would love to have a big family of women that we could all go to the beach and sit around in white washed beach chairs in blankets.
How Yaya sisterhood of me.
And it made me miss my momma.

Time management is something that is of extreme importance these days, and I am working to find that balance so I don't have freakouts about everything and so I can feel like a whole, complete person who is able to throw themselves fully into everything they do without getting overwhelmed by taking on too much, so as not to miss out on anything.
But there is such a thing as missing out on everything because of doing everything - it all depends on the things that you want to be a part of.
I hate missing out on stuff.
Things I hate - apathy, and doing a halfway job.
These are things I am afraid will happen if I see myself sinking, unable to handle what I have decided to take on.
I am pretty spontaneous in taking on new things, and I like a challenge, but I can get discouraged easily if I think too hard about something or if one thing goes wrong, I can immediately see how something will never work out for me. I don't give in then, but I don't pursue it with such passion as I might once have.
I have to keep those thoughts and emotions at bay.
I don't see this being a problem with the things I am currently dealing with, because a large portion on my time is doing research on pagan rituals and then thinking about choreography and going to rehearsals.
That is what I want to do with my life.

If only I didn't have things like biological anthropology and archaeology in my way, I would be a super happy individual.
I would be perfectly content with doing research, writing papers, dancing, and spending time with my friends.
I hope this is a preview of my life after this year.

busy days

The worst part about being so busy, is not that I am super busy, its that I do not feel as if I have enough time to be as creative as I need to be for the things I have been asked to do.
I don't have the time to put the brain power behind it.

But the best part about being as stressed out as I feel these days, is that I cherish the moments that I do get even more. Some glimpses of what I like about my downtime.

Beautiful flowers that brighten my day.

This little dude who wakes me up, waits for me to come home, sleeps in the cutest positions, and watches me brush my teeth. He also likes watching the toilet swirl and crawling in the shower while I'm in there. Endless hours of entertainment for the both of us.

Amazing dinners on the backporch with my wonderful roommates.

The benefits of anxiety issues - satisfaction at the end of it all.

oh yea

today at work i was so flustered
that I answered the phone

"thank you for calling Allyn, how can I help you?"
and proceeded to have the wrong calendar up for the reservation the man wanted and we had a little calendar tustle over the date.
He was correct.

it made me laugh so hard I was crying.

makin' do

with whatcha got is hard shit.
You oughta know what I mean and I refuse to explain.


makin' do with whatcha got is tough.

Family traditions never get old

There are a lot of things I love.
Among them are get togethers and family, traveling and meeting new people, and recently,
being domestic.
As in, I really enjoy cooking, and decorating my space, to make it feel like my very own home.
And I want it to look lived in, I want it to reflect my past, my roots, my interests, my loves.
And when I travel, I make it a point to not forget where I came from and what I love about home, to take a little piece of what I have learned growing up with me wherever I go.

And so get togethers with family that I love, in beautiful places with lots of yummy food... it just all makes me very happy.


Luckily, I come from a family that also loves and even throws great get togethers, whether for a reason, or just because it is high time to get together, eat yummy food, meet people that know you but you don't know them, and just catch up and laugh, an inevitable part of being together.

This weekend I headed into the middle of nowhere for a birthday party for the Pog.

The Pog was beautiful, just like she has always been.
She has always been the most elegant lady I've known.

The house was beautiful, because my aunt is a wonderful decorator, who really utilizes what she has and makes it look its best.
I think it is high time for a Southern Living nomination.
To boot, she is a great hostess!

And what made the house even more beautiful was that its surroundings were in full bloom.
The middle of nowhere is beautiful.

The middle of nowhere has been in my family for a while - in fact, the middle of nowhere pretty much consists of my family. But my family has deep roots in this place, and so when I go there, despite how much I dislike the middle of nowhere, I get caught up in the history, and mystery, and potential of the place and how I can carry little pieces of that place and all it means to my family with me wherever I happen to be going.

A few glimpses of the weekend:

 

 

ballet

You know have returned to the world of ballet when your teacher asks you why you aren't as flexible as a few days ago, you tell them you have a big knot above your left cheek and are taking it easy, and they proceed to pull you off the ground, and punch you multiple times in the butt, declaring that they are fixing the problem.

lately

Been busy, yessss.

An update:

babies got a bath. We had rats for a little while. They like us more now than they did a few days ago.

Eva and I went to the beach on Saturday.

I took a test in Archaeology and a quiz in Biological Anthropology today.
I survived.
I know, I'm surprised, too.

Anddd I absolutely love doing floor/ground work in dance.
It just feels so natural, so earthy, so full. 

wonders never cease

It was deceiving in India, yes.

Cutting up a real life pineapple is not as easy as the average Indian street vendor makes it seem.
No sir, it is not.

I'm missing it. I am missing India.
I am missing traveling.
I am missing the people and the sights and the excitement.
I miss taking pictures.

I'm getting scared that everything I want is too far out of reach.
I want my masters, my Ph.D, the Peace Corps.
And before that I want my choreography for the fall to be amazing - I want it to feel right, not just look technically right. I want my GRE scores to be fantastic. So I don't have to take it more than once. I want all of the fleas to stop irritating my babies and get my roommates off my back. I want to finish Biological Anthropology confidently. And I want a banjo.

ok. go.

This weekend was another one of those great happy weekends.

long evening walks
french food and cold coffees
sunsets
auditions ("Raise your hand if you want to be in the modern piece... I know Allyn does." "WTF?")
funny movies (please watch The Men Who Stare at Goats.)
and a John Dillenger gangsta movie (loud)
cooking and eating on the back porch (Justin's request - asparagus)
pretzels with peanut butter (Justin ate a lot)
Hairspray the musical ("You can't stop the motion of the ocean...")
desserts at Kaminsky's ("you've been here before, right?" "...Yes.")

and then -

my mataji showed up and i loooooved having her here!
It was her birfday weekend wif me and so she got flowers and then she bought a wine opener for us because we broke the last one, and then I was supposed to sneak get her coffee/breakfast in bed but was unsuccessful because she got up and we went for breakfast at the Sweetwater Cafe -grits, eggs, hashbrowns, coffee, english muffin (to share of course).
Went to the beach and walked straight through the bocce ball tourny - got washed away by the water - went for dinner at Vickery's and watched a wedding across the creek - inevitably couldn't convince her to stay.
She never called to say she got home.

I hate when she leaves.

Sometimes, it's hard to get your work done around here.

I mean, c'mon.
One thing I have always known, but is constantly being reinforced, is how much I need something to pick up and cuddle around its neck. Someone that knows when I'm happy, knows when I'm sad, knows when I would rather be playing with them, knows that I'll lock them out of my room and they will still love me in 2 days.
My kitties are so comforting, it's ridiculous.

So, I think CofC needs to be reminded that 4 pm is tea time. I've yet to find a chai shop, my bicycle is actually comfortable and I'm not about to die every time I get on it, I'm having trouble getting credits for the yoga class I took (don't they know that yoga is a very legitimate, very real, very true, very wonderful class? Doesn't CofC know that they need happy, centered, balanced students before they can expect good grades in classes that aren't their students specialty?) I've yet to be blocked on my way to class by man, bus, by concrete, or by cow. I don't sweat through my entire class, I don't have to carry a towel to class, nor do I have to hide my sweaty thighs on my way out of class from other students with sweaty leg stains too. My teachers don't chant, they don't sing, they don't emphasize words the way I like, they don't bless and thank the earth for letting us stomp on them, their toes and finger tips aren't red, they don't have nose rings, they don't walk around barefoot, not a single one of them has a creepy moustache, they don't demand we get water for them, and in fact, nobody from downstairs brings them glasses of water and tea. I'm not getting my recommended intake of naan, aloo gobi, daal, or milk bikis, and I have far too much reading. My teachers respond to their emails too promptly and dress boring. I have too many clothing and shoe options, and so it takes me wayyy too long to get dressed, and my bookbag is super heavy because each of my classes requires a notebook and 3 textbooks each. I have classes on Fridays, and no mindblowing, absolutely jawdropping gorgeous weekend plans of ancient mystery. My hair doesn'
t curl on its own, and I've eaten my fingers to nubs because I don't have wonderful henna on my hands.

Most of all - I don't take it nearly as seriously. I mean, I'm serious. Serious, and stressed, and hopeful, and excited, and determined.
But I was connected to myself and my life, and I don't always feel it now.
I'm connected in a very different way.
Here, I'm all business. Get things done - this is how you succeed.
My priorities are wonky.
At one point in time I understood the importance of yoga and meditation in daily life, of thanking the earth for its time and patience, of approaching others with grace and compassion.
I still understand it, but I do not employ it like I should.
It's disappearing from me. My experiences are fading.
Everything I learned, I'm having trouble putting it into practice.