At the End, At the Beginning

Since I’m leaving the state (really soon) I have made an honest attempt to go through all of the drawers and boxes which encompass the two rooms I call “mine.”

It’s no secret that I’m a pack rat. But I’m pretty sure I haven’t reached “hoarding” proportions, yet.

Nothing is random. Nothing.

I do have a gazillion or so ticket stubs (movies, games, concerts), cards (birthday, thank you, playing), alongside name badges (work, work, work) floating about...

You know that full page ad Shane Battier took out to thank the city when he was traded to Houston? I have that. (It was the end of my great Memphis Grizzlies love affair, after all)

I have pictures from when the Grizzlies revealed their new uniforms downtown for the public. That means a very proud Lorenzen Wright strutting around.

One of the last things the (now defunct) Growlers (grassroots supports' group for our local NBA team) did was to give all of our monies to the Sierra Wright Scholarship Foundation when we disbanded.

As a Growler board member I was able to attend a lot of events/games when the team was new in town. So, I have several pieces autographed by Ren.

Off the court, he always had a smile on his face to balance the scowl and ferocity he had when playing the game.

It’s been hard to think about a lot of things lately and his murder is only the tip of the iceberg.

The world is nonsensical, random, and connected all at the same time.

None of these actual things are being thrown away though; only organized and condensed into manageable forms. Such is my life, mind, and emotions.

I'm often asked HOW I remember all the things I do. And I don't know. Maybe the physical things I chose to keep rather than discard help. But really, the power of "recall" is truly a gift.

I'm just going to continue keeping and writing as I go along my path; it's all part of the next chapter.

~~J

Clang! Clang! Clang!

went the Trolley...

Ding! Ding! Ding! went the bell...

Zing! Zing! Zing! went my heartstrings...

What decent person doesn't love an onomatopoeia in lyrical form?

You know I do!

(enough with the exclamation points already)

This past weekend I took a little trip downtown, complete with dinner, a trolley ride, a late night stop at the Peabody Hotel lobby, and a wee early morning stop for donuts.

I may have been 100 degrees outside, despite the absence of the sun. The humid, sticky air was stagnant. Hundreds of people were out and about. There was a line to get ONTO Beale Street even.

Any good Memphian should know WHAT exactly is going on in the above photo. I took it on a moving Trolley (Riverfront Loop)...does THAT parenthetical aside help you out any?

"Old Man River will be the backdrop when you ride the Riverfront Loop. Ride in an authentic vintage trolley car along a breathtaking stretch of the mighty Mississippi River, connecting with the Main Street Trolley and Madison Avenue. There's no better way to get a nostalgic glimpse of Memphis!" (MATA website)

I was thinking about my Saturday night on Sunday afternoon and couldn't help but recall the episode of Sex and the City when Carrie finds out Big is moving to Napa. He's the "Chrysler Building," leaving New York.

Of course, Big is "tired" of New York and I am NOT tired of Memphis. But the feelings are similar and palpable as far as the episode (and 10 minute clip I linked you to) are concerned.

Moon River + Ol' Man River = Me

~~J

Coy Mistress--

.
.
.
I don't know who she is...but I can feel the (perceived) thoughts frozen on her face.

The hand-coloring someone did makes her seem melancholy--stuck in a world that doesn't understand.

She's emo circa 60 years ago, before "emo" was even a term. (OED places it as first being used in 1993)

What she's feeling has nothing to do with music, I dare say. Emotional works.

Tom may have just said,

"Janice, give us your best wistful face."

But I don't know Tom or Janice. It's a guess. She (my Janice) makes me think of Sylvia Plath.
.

.

.
Not the "just about to put my head in the oven" girl we all know and love--but the laughing, fun one at Smith College or visiting Paris as chronicled in her "unabridged journals."

Sylvia was a hell of a journal writer.

So Janice here, stately and strong on a pier--maybe on holiday with Tom. In Spain or Chicago or whatever place they were able to sneak away to...is like Sylvia, a journal writer too.

I bet Tom was NOT the first boy she ever kissed either. I can just tell.

See how all of that is thrown together in my head?

"Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapt power."

(Andrew Marvell)

~~J

Bread & Butter & Apocalyptic Wal-Mart!

Searching for big deals, I entered a store in the middle of a "remodel"...

Great decision on my part!

I found beautiful "stuffs" to pack away just in time for the "big move" (in 22 days or so).

Bathroom stuffs

"school supply" stuffs...

.
.

*Never Been Kissed (and Mr. Coulson) rub my nerdy high school heart the right way...in a Jake Ryan sorta way!

*Carrying around a real autopsy report or court case for fiction-writing purposes is creepy, no matter how much I try to pretend otherwise.

*Hot in Cleveland is damn hilarious--and I caught an episode with a surprise appearance by George Newbern!

*Ever since I served as a juror on a murder trial, I am obsessed with "watching" trials. There was another one this week that had my attention and thanks to super blogging, I was able to follow right along...

*Watching a friend laugh so hard he doubles over and nearly forgets to breath is quite a beautiful sight/sound.

*I'm still barking and hacking away despite being thoroughly medicated...

*Tomorrow is my last scheduled Monday in the retail pharmacy world!

~~J

Walkin' in...

(photo from the USGS website)

One thing that surprises me (or maybe it doesn't) is the response I get from a lot of people when I tell them I will be leaving for graduate school--"leaving" as in "moving away" from Memphis:

"Good for you! You're getting out of this place!"

What? I like Memphis. What?

Granted, I've "only" lived here for...sixteen years...not a lifetime, but I get a bit defensive when people talk down about the city. A few professors discussed this phenomenon during my last semesters as an undergraduate.

One (originally from Canada, who got his Ph.D. from Rutgers) talked about the low cost of living and the great night life. He said that no matter where you went in Memphis, even the smallest "dive" or "hole-in-the-wall" the music was amazing. He said there was no "bad" music here, the "worst" band in Memphis would be the best in any other city.

Another talked about how he couldn't believe the negative comments he heard about the city, because he liked it to (and he's lived all over the place). Our first class meeting, we got in a circle and he point blank asked everyone WHAT they thought about the city and WHY.

I don't get it. I mean, sure--I get it. Murder. Mayhem. Drugs. Violence. Poverty.

But there is plenty to love about the city. I've been reading the ILOVEMEMPHIS blog a lot lately, and I think I am going to visit it several times a day after I move...

Love ya, M!

~~J

grAtEfUL:

I love the videos author Katherine Center makes...

you should too.... [CLICK HERE]

What

ARE

you

G R A T E F U L

{1 a : appreciative of benefits received b : expressing gratitude}


for?

Happy Monday*

*(list forthcoming)

~~J

Happy 50th Anniversary:

You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view--until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.

(Atticus Finch)

I was born good but had grown progressively worse every year.

(Scout)

...I began to think there was some skill involved in being a girl.

(Scout)

...they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That's why it's a sin to kill a mockingbird.

(Miss Maudie Atkinson)

They've done it before and they did it tonight and they'll do it again and when they do it-seems that only children weep.(Atticus Finch)

Boo was our neighbor. He gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair of good-luck pennies, and our lives...We never put back into the tree what we took out of it: we had given him nothing, and it made me sad. (Scout)

...And Ms. Harper Lee never wrote another book again.

~~J

Hodge Podge:

I have a favorite cough drop. What? I never never considered myself a connoisseur, but days of "sick" have made me so:

1) Lemon Mint (sugarfree) by Ricola
2) Juicy Strawberry Refresh (sugarfree) by Halls

& other random news/thoughts:

*World Cup is over (almost) and Germany stands at #3 as far as the tournament is concerned. With such a young squad, I can only imagine what 2014 will bring...

*I have a place to live in Milledgeville--and a roommate too. Funny how quickly the pieces can fall into place.

*Dancing around with complete abandon while singing into a makeshift microphone never goes out of style. It was awesome when I was 12, and it's awesome twenty years later. (Having friends to play along is a plus.)

*Small gifts can mean so much, doubly so when the words, "and it's really poetic" are used to describe it. Especially when you never expected to hear those words fall from his mouth.

*Sleep. Sleeping. You never realize how precious it is until it's difficult to do.

*Flying an Airplane dreams (when they come) haunt me. As scary and chaotic as they are, it's nice to read that they "suggest being in control of your destination in life."

*Reading from collections of short stories only makes me want to write short stories. I haven't had the "energy" to write though...so this is half good and half bad.

*Team Jacob (mostly because he reminds me of a high school crush, mostly)

~~J

Tea & Sympathy

(or My Life for the last few days)

As in "hot" tea (as Southerners call it)
but also "iced" tea (as Northerners call it)

I mean both when I tell you that I've managed to drink a lot of it. Cups of it. Glasses of it. Why?

Viral Pharyngitis. Woo Hoo!

That's really just a fancy way of saying I have a sore throat. A sore throat coupled with tonsils (yes, I still have mine) swollen to the size of golf balls. Well, not golf balls. But they are ginormous and raw.

It hurts to swallow. (which is kinda important)

It hurts to talk. (and I love to talk)

It got so difficult to breathe that I went scrambling to a minor medical clinic to make sure I wasn't going to be strangled to death by monster tonsils.

The doctor looked inside my mouth and said, "I'll have to use a tongue depressor." Which was followed by, "Oh yes, they are swollen. Very raw. Very painful."

A swab determined that I didn't have Strep throat. Culprit? Maybe super allergies (so I got prescription nasal spray).

I haven't missed work, but all I really want to do is sleep. And sleeping gets uncomfortable because NOT keep my throat lubricated just means mega, mega pain--which just has me up at 4 in the morning making more tea.

Being sick in the summer when it's a sweaty 100 degrees outside is NO FUN.

~~J

And it continues...

(Best clip I could find with all of the goals...)

~~J

Cue the Music:

Send in the nerds!

While going over my schedule for the upcoming semester, I happened across a link to the required texts.

Not only have I registered for my first semester of GRADUATE SCHOOL (oh boy!)--but I have the books for two of my classes already too.

They were waiting on me when I got home from work.

I squealed. Yes, really.

There are three books and a little over a month to go before I leave.

Everything scary and thrilling all at once wrapped between shiny paperback covers.

I have managed to read one short story contained within one of the two new collections of stories. I scrolled through the list of MFA programs mentioned in the back.

It was like looking at old friends:

How ya doing, Houston?
Look! It's George Mason.
What have you been up to, Florida?

The crazy ride that started more than a year ago (or more than 30) is about to reach a new level. My knuckles are past white as I grip on to everything I have, everything I am. Preparing myself to let go and woosh! along with the force of a dream.

A dream realized? A dream so deferred I didn't remember what it looked like in the first place--I remember now, and I might be ready.

~~J