New, indeed

Well, we survived the end of 2012.  Sorry Mayans.  I'm not one for getting all hyped on or for New Year's but I feel a little different about that this year.  Maybe it's because of all the new that I'm already experiencing and expecting.  It's kind of exciting.  How's that for alliteration?

Wrapping up 2012:  The most productive, in terms of art, year of my life.  And it wasn't a drag like it got to be when I was in undergrad because there were no real rules to it.  Getting to do something that I really love for a year has been a blessing.  It's also spoiled me.  It's raised my confidence enough to apply to grad school (did I mention I did that last week??). 
In terms of personal life, it's been a year of ups and downs with relationships of all kinds.  Overall, it's probably taught me that I've got to be honest with myself at all times and that I need to accept people/things for what they are.  As Auntie always says, people do what they want to do.  As Benable says, you've got to realize what kind of relationship it is and either accept it or move on because people don't really change that much.  As a certain bald friend claims, it's easier to see the other side of things when you aren't the one going through them.  Perspective.  It's better than gold.  I'm so lucky to be surrounded by such wise, advice-giving people.  That's me being sincere.

It seems fitting that I'm ending this year with such goofy happiness.  Maybe it's because I found a church that I love attending, maybe it's because my applications for grad school are finished, maybe it's because I'm proud of myself for making smart, mature decisions this year, or maybe it's because I just downloaded an assload of songs on Itunes. 

Idilemma and Choices

When in doubt, the perfect gift (for me at least) is an itunes card.   But the problem is that if you don't get one or more, you're left with the dilemma of choosing.  And Pandora adds to the problem by letting you like and bookmark songs and musicians.  Which makes the itunes wish list longer and longer.  Thereby impossible to make a decision. 

Then there's the problem of loyalty.  The musicians that you've loved forever and will always buy their albums because of that.  Good or bad.  Do they trump the new finds?  And what if all the hype for a new artist leads to disappointment after you've chosen them?

This is my thought process whenever I get an Itunes giftcard.  It takes me days to finalize who I'll choose.  Quite a problem.  Tears my nerves up.

And speaking of torn nerves.  The house has sold, new owner coming in in a month.  I asked if she needed a roomate but she didn't seem to go for it.  (I don't know why because I'm very clean, I'll run errands, and I'll always shower last and let you park in the driveway while I park in the grass.)  Where does that leave me you ask?  S town bound.  A place I haven't lived since I was 18.

 

This has been just one of the major changes in my life recently.  Last week wasn't my best.  But I got through it.  I kept describing it as "my life is falling apart, everything is a mess."  But that's not true.  It's not a mess, it's just a bunch of choices to be made all at the same time.  Overwhelming, yes, but not a mess.  The best thing to do (I have realized, now that I'm not obsessing) is to just keep moving forward. Get through each hoop.  And while I've always thought I'm very adaptable to change, the truth is that I'm not.  It takes me two weeks to six months to get comfortable with something new, person or place.  But the good news is that Saluda is not something new.  There may be a few new people and hopefully a new job, but it's what it always has been: a place representing safety and comfort.  And my hesistation to go there has been so because I've seen it as a sign of something else.  Maybe failure, maybe dependency, maybe drama.  But that's a mindset and a situation that I can control.

Yesterday I found myself asking God to help me lose control and accept people and situations for what they are.  Saluda is the biggest test of that.  So maybe that's why I'm lead there.  To get through this test.  To jump the hoop and move on to bigger and better things (mfa, fingers crossed).

Know what's a great feeling?

The first time your work wins first place.

"That tears my nerves up"

Auntie says I say this all the time.  I know I do because something is always tearing my nerves up.

Today it was installing work at the Mill House.  I woke up an hour earlier than necessary because I was so anxious about it.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe it was because this is my first sort of solo exhibit and I wasn't sure I had enough work or work of good quality.  Maybe it was because of the place and what/who that place represents.  Maybe it was because it's election day.  Or maybe it's because I'm just a freak and shouldn't worry so much. 

Setting up went fine and I'm proud of my work.  I'm kind of excited actually.  Here are a few of the featured pieces:

The good with the bad

charcoal, embroidery on pillow case

The finer things (indeed)

lipstick, coffee, and wine on napkin

Famous Friend

embroidery

Talks

charcoal, embroidery on pillow case

Brandt owes me one

steel, wood, colored pencil, leather

 

Not how I imagined it would go

steel, paint, pen

I'm missing a couple, ones I don't have photographs for yet.  The majority of these are part of people + things.  Some of the associations are not just with "things" (such as pillows, teabags, machetes) but also qualities such as color and form.  I'm finding it so much easier now to make these connections than I did when I first started.  I thought a lot about each individual person I knew and what reminded me of that person.  Which became totally overwhelming or I'd just hit a brick wall.  It became easier when I started jotting down memories, words, conversations with people which later led to imagery.  I'm finding that I work better this way: starting with something large, like a sentence or event, and breaking it down in to specific, important pieces.  That doesn't mean that just any word or moment will guarantee a piece of art to come out of it.  It has to be something that stuck with me, rings truth, or something that stings.

In addition to being anxious about putting up work, I also had to write a biography. Ehhh.  I can ramble on and on (especially in a blog) but when I have to write something about myself and my work for others to see, my nerves get rattled.  So here's what I came up with:

Ali Hammond was raised in Saluda-South, not North-across the street from cows and crawdads.  The rural atmosphere and experiences of her upbringing provide rich imagery and are an inspiration for her work.  She is a 2010 graduate of Lander University and a master of odd jobs.  Her favorite pizza at the Mill House is the BLT.

So go by the Mill House and check out my work.

Feelings surfaced and disappointment

Sometimes emotions are just too hellacious and that's why I don't deal with them.  I prefer to say nope when they come up and busy myself with something else.  Like listening to music when I run or doing crosswords or watching old Steve Martin SNL clips on youtube.  Those always make me laugh.

But lately, because of creating, I've been thinking and responding more than usual to emotions.  Which would normally cause me to get the hell out of dodge.  Some days I'm so thankful that I have to wear a mask while I work.  But I'm finding that just because I create a piece that's about a certain someone or event, it does not necessarily mean that the feelings I have about them become resolved.  Instead, they just seem to surface and I walk around with what feels like an elephant on my chest.  I have been disappointed by this.  I thought that I'd create a piece and everything I felt about the inspiration would stick to the sculpture like welding tacks and leave me feeling cathartic.  So why hasn't it? 

I wonder if time has not allowed me to attach the thoughts and memories with every piece.  It's almost as if the connection is there while I'm working on it but when I finish I can look at it and feel nothing.  Again, disappointment.  Maybe that's how musicians feel after they perform their own music.  Maybe it's not about the final outcome of the song, maybe it's about created it and performing.  Although I feel disappointed, the process of giving one hundred percent can become so wonderfully engaging and liberating that it's pure pleasure.  That it's the most honest thing I can do.  Even when I put on dark glasses, I still find that I'm content just to be there.

This is all very Dear Diary to bring up- see how I'm changing? Eh.- but I just wonder if other artists have felt the same way.  I've heard people joke about how dating an artist is good because they aren't usually repressed.  I've found that the more of myself I put into a piece, the better it tends to be. This has been a great transformation, going from assignments and doing work just to make a grade to actually caring for each piece like a mother cares for a child.  But when it's finished, why do I still feel insatiable? 

Blackberry God

I think most of us would rather the god we serve conform to us rather than us to them- our own "personal Jesus" as Johnny Cash sings.  Picking what we can jive with and tossing out what we can't is just what we do.  In a way it helps us find a connection because, just like with people, we want to have something in common in order to like that person.  Essentially, we are probably all self centered and want it to be about us most of the time.  Or maybe that's just me.

These thoughts have stemmed from a recent conversation with a new coworker, Ms. Lillian.  Sometimes I think we are kindred spirits and our paths have so many similarities and that's why we were supposed to meet.  Maybe she's my future. I don't know.  She has so much class and is one of the most dignified women I've come across (one distinguishing difference between us).  She told me a story about when she was a little girl and her brothers and sisters (17 of them!) threw her in a pond to teach her how to swim.  She started sinking, got all choked up on the water and they fished her out, left her by the pond, and ran to their house.  Ms. Lillian says she remembers coming to beside a blackberry bush.  She said,"I don't know how I got there but I woke up and coughed the water out.  That's how you know God is moving.  I be he was up there saying, 'I know they didn't leave my baby in those blackberry bushes!'"

I love that.  Everytime I think about her saying that last part, it warms me up.  The idea that God would call his people "baby" is delightful.  It humanizes him and makes me feel adored.  When God talks to me, I imagine him speaking that way.  Like he's been sitting on a front porch watching everything go on and commenting on it under his breath.  Shaking his head when we do something michevious and think that we can get away with it.  Miranda Lambert has a line in one of her songs that goes, "I heard Jesus he drank wine and I bet we'd get along just fine.  He could calm a storm and heal the blind and I bet he'd understand a heart like mine."  That resonates, doesn't it?  Makes him like us but a little more forgiving and understanding.  And a little less gravitas on his part, someone we could kick it with.  What movie was it that the character said they imagined Jesus wore a tuxedo tshirt? 

I'm not saying that scripture is a salad bar where you choose what you want to put on top of lettuce and leave the other toppings aside.  I think it's more important to be human, to be what were created for.  Mistakes, imperfections, ugly inside-out crying faces and all.  And maybe along the way we sneak some unexpected goodness in there, some decency toward each other.  And that's how you know that God is moving. 

I've probably said these things before.  But sometimes, when my mind is a tangled ball of rubber bands, it helps to remind myself.

A closet door and picture frames

The dreaded changing of the clothes for the fall/winter season.  Em always zips up my "pop up" travel closet, pictured above, when she comes over and kills herself laughing.  I sent her this picture today and she said, "I can't wait for you to have a closet with a door and nobody else's pictures in your frames."  The things you do and have when you live out of a bedroom...

A glance of the golden years

Everyone has a favorite in their family.  A favorite cousin, brother, parent, aunt or uncle.  Today, mama and I saw my favorite great aunt and uncle at their surprise 50th wedding anniversary party. 

(I can get away with saying that they're my favorites because my family does not read my blog.)

Uncle Pete (whose name is not really Pete or Peter- no one remembers when or why he picked that name up) and Aunt Ellen are the one of the most adorable couples, and a true testament of a successful marriage.  Not only have they been together since they were teenagers, they've been members of the same church for just about as long as they've been married, they suffered through the loss of a teenage son, and they housed my meme and her six young children when she left her husband and had nowhere else to go.  Mama says it was like living with the 1970's George Jones and Tammy Wynette (minus the drinking and D-I-V-O-R-C-E). 

What sticks out in my mind about Uncle Pete and Aunt Ellen is their loyalty to family.  When my papa had his accident that caused him to be a quadriplegic, they stayed with us at the hospital.  In fact, they drove their RV to stay with us and someone broke in the thing and stole $500 out of it.  They took Mama and I to Lizard Thicket(s?), the only time I remember ever eating there, and Aunt Ellen was so warm and comforting to me.  She was also a lot of fun to just talk to.  Uncle Pete has a small farm and a horse with my name on it.  A couple years ago he had this horse that was trained and "housebroken" that he was saving for me.  I couldn't take it but I loved that he remembered how much I want a horse.

My favorite part of the afternoon, other than the unexpected soul food, was hearing how the lovebirds first met and decided to get married.  Aunt Ellen's cousin wanted to "sneak away" and get married to Uncle Pete's best friend.  So, unbeknownst to Aunt Ellen, they rode to Georgia with their friends so they could get married.  Aunt Ellen and Uncle Pete stayed in the backseat and got to know each other.  Before they left, Uncle Pete asked her if she wanted to get married.  She said, "I don't care, whatever you wanna do."  They weren't able to tie the knot that night and Aunt Ellen got her behind tore up when she got home around 2 am.  But her mom told them they could get married so they did, she was 15 and he was 18. 

I don't know anything about marriage or how in the world people happily stay together as long as they do.  But I'm glad that they do.

Keys me

The great thing about being the sculpture worker is having access to keys to get in when no one else is there.  If I go in to work during the week I get overwhelmed and distracted by all the students.  One class is pretty large and especially amusing. 

This week, and this coming week, I'm training at the new job.  It was supposed to be just a part time, every other weekend for a couple of hours job.  Now it's turned in to being the fill-in person, which is fine I guess because I need the money.  But the training means getting up at 5:45 am, with the roosters and school teachers.  I think maybe I need to be more assertive about my time, considering they never tell me when I'll finish for the day.  They're under the impression that I'm still a college student, which I don't correct them because it's too confusing to explain.  So when I say I've got to be at class at 2, they'll understand and let me go.  This is sneaky and I think some would consider it lying, but it would work to my advantage so I may have to go with it.  Heh heh heh.  Hey- I've got things to do!

This week I'm hoping to finish and fire my porcelain piece, finish two-three drawings, and maayyybe start my next steel piece.  GO GO GO GO GO

Houses you can't see from the road

Heber's family and a couple family friends take turns making Sunday lunches.  They've been doing it for several years now and my favorite place to go it to his Aunt and Uncle's home.  They live right on the outskirts of Saluda and about a half mile from Greenwood County.  They have a very long, dirt driveway that leads you past his Uncle's big shop straight to the front of their home.  I love driving up to it because it's surrounded by woods, with a creek in the back, and there is always a cat or dog lying on the porch. Like this guy:

On Friday night we went to Squealin' on the Square in Laurens for some bbq.  Heber opted for three hotdogs, ice cream, and my leftovers.  Which turned out well for him because his family cooked a ton of bbq for lunch today.  And it was terrific, probably better than what I ate at the festival.

After lunch we ventured out behind the house, into the woods.  I have always loved walking through woods, losing track of time.  I can overcome the bugs and the tall grass tickling the sides of my legs- although the gnats today were resilient little boogers and kept attacking me in the ears and eyes.  When I was a kid and we first moved to the house near my Meme's, we didn't have a lawn mower at the time.  The grass got so tall and wild that I could literally lie down in it and not be seen.  My mama has always wished the house was pushed further back so that you couldn't see it from the road.  She wanted her hiding space in the woods while I found mine in the field that was the backyard, where Queen Anne's lace tracked the fence line.  To this day I think that's the reason I adore the color, design, and texture of that plant. 

Dum dum dum-dum

If you read that title and recognized that it was the wedding march then you've probably been to as many weddings as I have (five this year to be exact). I feel like I've been a contestant in Four Weddings: judging who had the best dress, the best setup, the best food, etc. 

On Saturday night, my roomate got married.  And of course being her roomate means being one of the beck-and-call girls.  Which I'm happy to do because I love organizing, planning, and putting something together.  I should be a professional organizer like you see on Hoarders.  Not really, I'd probably end up lighting a fire and burning all of the shit down so I wouldn't have to deal with funk funk smells, cat corpses, and emotional attachments to Cabbage Patch kids.

This wedding was very mellow.  There was no walking down the aisle, there were no gifts, no first dance, none of that.  As my roomie said, "We're just gonna go up there, say our howdy-do's and call it a day."  That's my kind of wedding.

The reception was very lovely.  It was hosted out in the woods at this lady's house who is one of my Aunt's clients.  The hostess could talk a blue streak but had a very nice house and a sweet horse named Dixie that she said I could come ride whenever I wanted.

Mama, Auntie, and I don't know why I'm holding her bouquet- I promise that doesn't have any symbolism or premonitions attached to it.

New uncle.  He's nice, I like him.

Naturally, the question everyone had for me was, "What are you going to do when she moves??"  That's a good question, one that I haven't worked out yet.  I've still got about two months. 

That was the generic response.

Truthfully, I'm not sure if I should try to find a place to rent here or live with Mama in the hometown.  That would be a bit of a drive every day so I'm not sure if it would even out with the price of gas versus the price of renting.  I would love love love to get out of here, but everything in it's time and I think that will be coming soon enough. 

Been thinking

Maybe the reason I haven't gotten a job (a "real" job), is God's way of telling me that I'm good where I'm at, I'm doing what I need to be doing. I have a good safety net here and things are set, as least as far as I can see- which is until December. And if there was ever a time to create, this is it. I'm not sure if this thought is my way of justifying things but it makes me feel a lot better. Although I'm sure God finds it amusing that I keep putting in applications.

So we will see.

Add these to last post's list

And Tom Hardy.  Who does not have an album but belongs in my life.

Steel snot and inspiration donations

Today marked the first day of working with steel for the new semester.  The steel was so excited to see me that it went in for a hug and ripped my shirt. 

I got dirty, hot, stinky, and had nasty, gray snot when I blew my nose.  It was a good day, very exciting to be making again.

Since I more or less work for free (or pay to work), I'm thinking about setting up a mason jar to accept donations.  I'll probably put my picture on it with a really sad face, smeared with steel dust. Mostly, I need money for music (forget bills and food).  The following albums need to be in my library:

Yeesh

The problem with having a ton of things to do and having access to Netflix is that I decide I'm so stressed and have so much to do that it's better to not get anything done and watch the entire first season of Downton Abbey instead.

 It is about to be a very, very busy four months.  Ten sculptures need to be created to complete the portfolio for graduate submission.  I know once the ball gets rolling it will be nonstop and wonderful and I will love every second of it.  But it's always the time before that, the days of sketching and deciding and scratching out sketches and building from sketches and having baby panic attacks that really do me in.  As always, I'm looking at all of this as a whole and need to just focus all my energy and anxiety into one piece at a time.  But yesh!

But once I complete all of this, everything will be much more relaxed.  And I'm so excited about the next chapter that that is what is getting me through this fall. 

And in the meantime I'm still hunting for a part time job. 

 Help!

Run ins, reunions, revivals

Simon and Stella and I roadtripped to Mama's house this weekend.  We continued to work on the house (and I exclude Simon and Stella when I say we).  I've inhaled so much paint, polyurethane, and bug bomb fumes, along with spackling dust, that it feels like a drum has been banged in my brain.  I bet if you could see me right now I probably have these ((    )) lingering near the sides of my head.

Yesterday I had two run ins.  We had a family reunion as we do every Labor Day weekend and I ran into one of my great aunts.  Imagine Blanche from the Golden Girls.  Aunt Blanche, as I'll call her, has always been oddly critical of me for most of my adult life.  Usually she hugs me whilst whispering, "Oh honey, you're so beautiful but you're so thin," or "Are you losing weight?" or "You really need to gain some weight".  This has only bothered me once and even then it was so presumptuously characteristic of her that it was laughable.  And it's one of those things that you just can't respond to because, well, what's the point?  And I think there is some sort of rule about being respectful to your elders.  The last year or so that I've seen her, she has managed to keep her mouth shut- and what a delight that's been!  I thought that maybe it was because my weight was just right and she decided to stop being critical and we were turning over a new leaf.  So when I saw her yesterday I had no worries that she would say anything about big or small I am.  She hugged me sincerely and exclaimed, "Oh Ali with your boy haircut, how have you been?!"

The second run in has been a long time coming.  As long as I've been driving I've never hit a deer.  CB says I have bionic night vision because I quickly see them from out of nowhere.  Last night I was driving and a deer run out in front of me.  There was enough distance between us so that I could tap the brakes and slow down to about 35, as you always expect another to follow the first one.  And, as expected, there it was.  To my right side, a small deer ran into the side of my car.  You read right, the deer hit me.  There were two pretty loud thuds so I pulled over, expecting to see the deer posted to the side of my car like a sticky note or dragging from the bottom.  But no deer was to be found and there was not a scratch on my car.  I'm taking it to a shop on Monday just to make sure everything is okay.  It felt like that episode of Seinfeld when Jerry breaks his record of not vomiting for several years.  So maybe I'm good, maybe the inevitable hitting of the deer (or being hit by the deer) is done.

There's not much to do in the Hometown so if I need some amusement I usually read the local paper.  Here are just a couple bits from last week's Standard Sentinel: 

I'm not sure how well you can read this online but it basically says that the Sheriff was using a jail inmate as his personal yard boy and "party shed" builder.  My favorite part reads, "In exchange for his work, the inmate enjoyed a 'cozy existence for a drug trafficker'.  He spent nights in a trailer away from the jail, rode a four-wheeler around town, was taken out of the county on occassion to visit family and was permitted conjugal visits with his girlfriend, during which time he fathered a child with her."

And if you're looking for a dog that isn't a full bred...

Amid the announcements for reunions, fundraisers, and revivals (ours started today), there are fillers: little pieces of useless trivia and quotes by famous people.

A unit to call my own

I finally got in that damned storage unit.

CB and I moved all my things in to a different unit, what I've been wanting for over a year that I've tried to get my family to help me with- especially the ones who also have stuff in there. 

 But that's a whole 'nother rant.

CB and I did it alone, by grace and mercy of God.  You know what I love about the God that I love?  He's the kind of guy that has to use unexpected people here on earth as footwork for his good will.  For instance, CB and I thought we could move my stuff in to a unit right beside the original one, E46.  I just assumed that one would be open and waiting for me like I've been waiting for it.  But no, they were all full, supposedly.  The owner rode me through the spaces in his Corvette and it just so happened that one was open...in row B.  How the hell were two people supposed to move a hoarder's worth of stuff into a unit that was three rows away with just a two-door Ford Focus and a Jeep Liberty?

It reminds me of that story in one of the Anne Lamott books about the guy and the Eskimo.  It's something to the effect of:  Two men were talking, one was telling how he was stuck on this mountain for days, maybe in a blizzard, and kept asking God for help.  "Did he help you?" the other man asked.  "No, some damn Eskimo ended up coming along and got me off the mountain."

Turns out that the owner of the storage units was Heaven sent and not only did he let us borrow a dolly, he let us borrow a giant Uhaul for the entire time it took us to get it done.  The Uhaul had come from California and someone scraffitied on the side of it, "Love is" but the rest of the sentence had been wiped off.

"I think you need to quit putting it in writing"

In a bubble of friends there are those that nod, listen, and agree.  And then there are those that are just as, if not more, opinionated than you are and tell you like it is.  But with good humor.

Having lunch with Benable is always enlightening, like free therapy sometimes.  When we talk about certain things, especially relationships, I end up accidentally saying things that I don't filter before they come out and-Eureka!- I didn't realize that's how I really felt about them.  It makes me feel very grown up and mature when I'm sitting Indian style in a booth having these revelations.

Benable claims my mindset for blogging is, "Let me tell you everything I know about life since I don't have anything better to do."  Which, of course, it is.  And that he isn't going to read it because, he "gets enough of it in real life."

It's cute how he acts like he's not interested in my melodrama and theories.

Running down Table Rock

CB and I had a fantastic weekend.  On Saturday we trekked 7.2 miles on Table Rock.  The hike up felt like hell at times, my legs are used to walking on flat concrete.  The incline had my right leg freaking out over the change and spazzing every time I was still.  But coming down was wonderful.  We ran down the mountain when the path was mostly clear.  It was the most exhilarating feeling, going so fast and instantly having to strategize your footsteps.

 There are several scenic views once you get to the top so we were confused which view was "the view" that we were supposed to see.  This led us further and further up.

CB resting at the actual top.  It was divine.

We asked one man how much farther to the best view and he replied that there wasn't much of a view because of the fog.

We ended up at the lodge for "Bluegrass on the Mountain".  I think we were both expecting something worthy of Old Crow or Iron Horse but instead found a group of elderly citizens picking on guitars.  One man played, what looked like, the first harmonica ever invented.  It was cute.

The instagram shot.  Looks like Ireland with the color enhancement.

Reading rainbow

In middle school, a summer reading list was given every year.  If I remember correctly, you were supposed to read a couple books and then write a report on at least one.  I don't think anyone actually took up the paper that you wrote but it was made to be a very big deal, as if you were not accepted in to the 6th grade if you didn't do it. 

When it was mentioned among my friends, I complained and grumbled about it along with everyone else.  Secretly, I was so excited when I was given the list;  I adored reading and writing (as was noted in my last post).  I still have a few of the books and they truly did make an impact on me at that time.  One was about this girl who lived in a trailer with her parents and they kept having a God awful amount of kids that she had to help raise.  She fell in love with this guy with a weird P name like Percy or Parsal, and I don't remember if she saw him as a way out or if she thought she'd end up with the same life as her mother.  Either way, it was a good book at the time because it was all about choices and growing up and becoming a woman.  Relevant reading for a 13 year old girl.

Earlier this summer I posted about my summer reading goal.  Since then, a few books have not made the cut and got substituted for something better.  I've read Sex God, Traveling Mercies,  and On the Road, a few from the original list.  I hate to give up on a book or a movie because I have hope that it will redeem itself.  But I could not bring myself to finish Brideshead Revisited, Jesus Wants to Save Christians, or Daybook.  Brideshead was so thick with English dialogue that it just got cloudy and muddied for me.  I'm a simple person, I like simple sentences.  Jesus Wants read like a textbook.  And Daybook was over my head artsy fartsy.  While it was heavily about being a mother and Anne Truitt's normal day to day routine, it also talked about her seeing herself as an artist.  Some of it I found brilliant but overall I couldn't deal with what was going on with her and had to put it down.  (Maybe because of what's going on with my own self as an artist?)  It's kind of like watching a movie and imagining yourself as the lead actress: if you can't see yourself being the heroine or the damsel in distress that gets saved by Leonardo DiCaprio, you might as well quit while you're ahead.

I'm sure they are wonderful books but they did not interest me.  Maybe I'll pick them up another time when my mind isn't so busy.

There are a couple books left and, as I'm sure you mathematicians- or smartasses-out there noticed, I haven't been able to read a book every week like I'd hoped to.  However, I've swapped a couple books in place of the ones that I didn't finish.  Such as The Picture of Dorian Grey, Operating Instructions, and Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith.  I have fallen in love with Anne Lamott completely.  I've soaked her up and breathed her in for a week.  Don't you hate when you've read all of your favorite authors' books and there are no more out yet? 

So that's the latest with the reading list.  As for another list, my sculpture count is up to 6.  I'm adding to my embroidery/people+things/tangible attachment series and hoping to have them exhibited at a local restaurant in November.

Musical adventures

This summer has been a good one for concerts.  Earlier this summer CB and I double-dated with these "old folks" to go see Counting Crows. 

A not-so-close view of Adam Duritz on piano.  The first time I saw them in concert was my freshman year of college at Winthrop.  My high school best friends bought second row tickets at the concert in Charlotte for my birthday.  It was one of the best concerts I've ever been to.  They played with Goo Goo Dolls and it was incredible.  I thought there was some irony in the fact that my uber religious, straight laced friend at the time bought tickets to a show that passed the peace pipe as soon as they sound checked.  Nevertheless, we all had a good time and got on the giant screen a few times when they scanned the crowd.  And John Rzeznik winked at me and I came unglued.

Last Friday night I traveled with mama and the aunts to see Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Allman Brothers.  Another not-so-great photo of Lynyrd Skynyrd opening:

I've always liked their music but never owned any albums.  But I've got to say, they put on a great show.  I'm sorry to say that they outshined the Allman Brothers.  Musically, they were spot on.  They also interacted with the crowd, which I appreciate since I spend about $30 on tickets, $12 for a pint, and $40 for a tshirt.  Priorities though, right?

The Allman Brothers will always be one of my favorite bands but I was a bit disappointed in their show.  They played wonderfully (a little longwinded but, hey, that's a jam band for you) but for it to have been pouring down and as much money was spent on seeing them, I expected a little more.  A "Thanks for sticking it out in the rain for us!" would have been great. But I've chalked it up to the fact the Gregg Allman seems to be a quiet guy when he isn't singing.  And Derek Trucks?  Well, I've seen him twice and never saw his mouth move. (I'm not complaining; I still think he is amazing.) 

They did a beautiful version of "Into the Mystic" which melted my heart and sort of made up for any bad feelings I had about the show overall. 

Mama and the Aunts. 

 These are the kind of pictures I get on my phone when the Aunt who can barely check her voicemail uses a smart phone.

Anytime I've gone to a concert or on a trip with Mama and the Aunts, adventure and a crazy experience is sure to ensue.  For instance, here's a girl that was sitting on our row when I came back from the bathroom.  Her name was Alli and, apparently, her boyfriend was being a tool and talking to her like a dog.  So Mama turns around and tells her, "No ma'am, you aren't putting up with that!  Come up here and have a good time with us."  So she did and a good time was had by all.

A few days home

Last week I spent a few days in S town.  I had forgotten that that was the week workers starting gutting mama's house, so I shared the king size bed with mama at meme's. 

Here's a picture what-was our old porch:

 

Mama Cat and Kitty Kate cat are still hanging out while men tear the house apart.  They're going to rip this porch too so I hope they find somewhere cool to stay in the meantime.  This is Kitty Kate (apparently she/he is also known as Peanut and some other name). 

 

I spent Thursday cleaning out my two closets. Enough junk come out to fill the bedroom and living room.  I pride myself on being able to throw things away that I consider junk.  I only save things that are sentimental and everything else goes in to the "donate" box or trashcan.  However, it took several hours to clean out my closets because I kept finding old stuff.  For instance, here's a picture of Mama and I wearing the same outfit when we were in first grade.  She kept it all those years and I still remember being so angry that I had to wear it.  Needless to say, I think it's adorable now and I'm sure one day my kid will be wearing it as well. 
 (Check out those bangs, eat your heart out Zoey Deschenel.)

 

Remember Benable, from the annual Lunch and Treat dates?  Here he is our tenth grade year of high school.  He left after this to go to Math and Science Governor's School.  And he has always been running for something.  It's no wonder that now he is in law school.

 

Hanson tape.  Hanson was my first real, crazed obsession when it came to music.  No, my second; I've wanted to be Gwen Stefani since I was in 5th or 6th grade.

 

Among the other things I found that I hadn't seen in quite a while were:

• My college degree, which I'm pretty sure I lost the week I graduated college.  (Now I imagine that one day it will hang in my office beside my MFA degree.)
• The aerobie (frisbee) that I look for every time I pack for the beach.
• All of my cat's balls that he hid/lost when he stayed with mama.
• Sketchbooks and paintings gallore, starting from elementary age.  The oldest one is a painting on a whiteboard of Tim McGraw.  I wish I had a picture of it.  Do you realize how hard it is to draw, much less paint, a cowboy hat??
• Books, books, books, and more books.
• About 5 or 6 journals.  I've had the best time reading through them.  I laughed until I cried one night when I read, "The most stressful thing in my life right now is Mrs. Carey (7th grade teacher), she never shuts up!"  I remember Mrs. Carey being tall, with hands that were always stretched out, and wide nostrils.  She did talk a lot but she was sweet.  If she was all there ever was to be stressful about then I'd say I was okay.   

One journal was full of words with their definitions.  Apparently when I read something and I didn't know a word, I'd look it up and write it down to use later.  I guess in front of an English teacher or some other adult to make myself sound smart.  What a nerd.

I don't remember myself being as boy crazy as I seemed to have been.  Every boy I loved (for a week at a time) was "sooo fine" and wonderful.  I don't think I actually talked to most of the boys I was in love with.  Other than boys, I wrote about my friends, the things I wanted to be when I grew up (a writer), how much I loved/was aggravated by my family, what I thought about God, sketches of people, how my friends and I wanted to start a band, how hard math was, etc.  Aside from wanting to be a writer, I'm not so sure that I don't write about the same things in my journal now.

In a way, reading the things that I wrote made my proud of myself.  It made me feel proud that, although I wouldn't say I've made it yet, I am heading toward something good and I've always set the bar high for myself.  This has caused me anxiety in the past but now it has led me to believe that even if I think I'm getting off of the trail I'm on, I'm really not.  It's all meant to be the way it is so if I think I'm falling behind or falling short, it's all part of the process.  Even if I screw everything up, I'm still where I'm supposed to be.

Z the diva:

And lastly, I spent some time with the Picklesymer, pictured above.  While we were watching the Olympics, she claimed she wanted to be a swimmer, a jumproper, a rockstar, and a cow at Halloween.  In her mind, all those things are absolutely possible.  And why shouldn't they be?