Tag: life

Silence and darkness

the Tall Girl # # #

So, you may have noticed that I’ve been pretty quiet lately. Obviously I’ve been very quiet here — no new posts in months. But I think I’ve been more quiet on other platforms too.

I’ve been a little depressed.

We finally moved to Tennessee in September. It was a hard move, and the less said there, the better. Tennessee is lovely but I’m afraid that I expected a bit too much, after so many years of being forced to wait and wait before we could get away from South Louisiana. I wasn’t expecting to run into new challenges and problems here — at least not right off the bat.

So anyway, I’ve been feeling blue and a bit lost. I had really high hopes for 2011, and it let me down time and time again. I’d like to think that 2012 will be better… although frankly, I’m almost willing to settle for things simply not getting any worse.

You’re probably saying that 2011 couldn’t be all bad. And it wasn’t. I lost a lot of weight and I finally got a decent haircut. And I threw out tons of old paperwork and clothes and other things that were weighing me down.

I wish it were that easy to get rid of bad feelings.

I’ll close here since I’m not sure what else to say… other than I’m still here, for whatever it’s worth.

Why buy?

the Tall Girl # # #

A few moments ago, I caught myself feeling a familiar niggle: I looked at the Amazon.com shortcut on my toolbar and thought, I want to buy something.

This thought appears at least once a week, usually when I’m frustrated with work. When I succumb to the urge, I’ll order a book, a DVD or food (tea or energy bars). I used to give in more often, but I’ve gained some control by recognizing the urge for what it is: a desire to escape, to read, to watch a good show, or eat something yummy — in short, to enjoy my time rather than just enduring it.

I have plenty of books. In fact, I have a good selection of unread books, at least 6 or 8 that I recall. But even if I didn’t have a fair number of shiny new books sitting around, I have a few dozen books and audio books that I thoroughly enjoyed and would like to experience again. And I’ve got more or less the same situation with DVDs; there’s a whole queue full of movies I want to see on Netflix Instant and a box full of DVDs sitting under the desk. I have more diversions than I could enjoy in a month of vacation. I don’t need more.

So why buy?

I guess part of it is that buzz of acquisition that gets shopaholics into so much trouble. It feels good to click that BUY NOW button, to have the means and the power to get something new. But the joy of having something new wears off fast, and then you’re left with the guilt of having paid for something you aren’t using.

These days, I try to be more careful before I hit that button, to weigh my motives before I buy. Most of us don’t need more things; we’re trying to satisfy some other need, something that’s more elusive. So I challenge you to think twice the next time a whim strikes you to get another album, DVD, book, or game, and ask yourself what you’re really after — before you click BUY.

Where Are You Going?

the Tall Girl # #

Where Are You Going by Dave Matthews is one of my favorite songs — and for some time now, it’s been the $64,000 question, so to speak. After Hurricane Katrina, my parents and I decided that New Orleans was no longer a good place to be and that we would relocate as soon as we were free to do it (translation: after my grandparents died). We debated a lot about where we would go. I wanted to return to my adopted home of Raleigh, North Carolina; I’d only been gone a few years at that point and still had friends and contacts there. My Dad wanted someplace farther south, closer to the family, and suggested Huntsville. In the end, Nashville was the middle ground, the compromise we all liked: big enough to find work, close enough to my beloved North Carolina mountains to make me happy, close enough to family to make us all feel secure. The decision was made — we just had to wait.

Then the drama started. A few members of Dad’s family live near Nashville and have been embroiled in some serious conflict. (There have recently been court proceedings. It’s not pretty.) Suddenly, Nashville seemed much too close to the craziness. We reopened the great relocation debate last summer and took Nashville off the table.

A couple of months later, my cousin Kristi had news: she had a job interview with a college in Asheville, NC. We had been discussing North Carolina since I’d gotten a lot of work last summer from my contacts there. It seemed like fate, the obvious answer: we’d go to Asheville. But the Universe was playing tricks with us and the job lead turned into a red herring: Kristi was their second choice, and the relocation debate was once again wide open.

Just contemplating the question seemed overwhelming to me. Even limiting our choices to three states (Tennessee, North Carolina, and South Carolina), with the additional restriction that it had to be no more than 8 hours from Dad’s family in Meridian, didn’t help. There were too many possibilities and the decision was too big. What if we didn’t like the place? What if we chose wrong?

I brought up the question with Dad at lunch today — told him the little bit of research I’d done, the few cities I’d marked for study — and I asked for his thoughts. And in a wonderful bit of fatherly wisdom and insight, he said “Why don’t we think about Nashville again?”

Okay, maybe he didn’t say it quite like that. But something in our conversation led us to that question, and he said that we can’t let the family drama keep us from our best choice. And suddenly, it all seemed so simple and obvious. We know we like Nashville. We have good family in Nashville. We can find work in Nashville. And it’s closer to Meridian than anything else I was considering.

So. I think — I hope — that the question may finally be answered.

I think we’re going to Nashville.

Places and things

the Tall Girl #

You know, I thought life would slow down after my grandmother died. We spent so much time taking care of her needs that I was sure we’d have a huge surplus of time once she was gone. Boy, was I wrong.

Unfortunately, when people die, we leave a LOT of things behind. In some ways, it would be easier if we were like the ancient Egyptians and buried a person with all their worldly possessions. Instead, we were left with furniture, clothing, jewelry, appliances, dishes, glassware, and countless other items that all needed a place to go. We also have several boxes of photographs; some of the subjects we can identify, some we can’t. Piecing together those relics of our history will be a nice little project for someone.

And then there was the house. When you’re spending all your time caring for a dying person, good housekeeping falls by the wayside. That house needed attention in the worst way. I cleaned cabinets until my fingertips were sore from scrubbing.

Our nation puts a lot of emphasis on where we live and what we own: the size of our house, and the quantity and quality of the things we possess. Since Katrina upended our lives 5 years ago, I’ve become increasingly disenchanted with things. Things weigh us down, drain our energy, fill our spaces and demand our attention. We need to learn to let go of things. What good are possessions when they’re packed away in closets and boxes? What’s the value in a photograph no one sees?

My grandmother had clothes that were never worn. She was “saving them.” What pleasure is there in saving things until they’re no longer any good?

I think we could all stand to take a good look at our attitudes towards things. There’s a lot more to life than what you leave behind.