The weight of words

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Reading material is piled on my bed, and the stack seems to have grown each day this week. It’s that time of month, I suppose, as new magazines account for nearly half of my to-read-nowish list. Esquire arrived yesterday, I picked up New York magazine’s Reasons to Love New York issue earlier this week and the Oxford American’s Southern music issue takes time to digest. I’m also overwhelmed by books: a collection of essays sent by a friend, a chef’s memoir, Flannery O’Connor nonfiction that I have been dipping into at a leisurely pace.

I know how I’ll spend my Christmas vacation.

I spent this morning discussing the value of words with a dear friend. Beginning next month, Cory and I will lead a writing and letterpress printing workshop, which we’ve titled The Weight of Words. The eighth-grade girls in the workshop will write essays of belief, and we’ll end the workshop by letterpressing small posters of their six-word thesis statements.

Cory and I are letterpress aficionados (she’s a printer, I’m a collector of sorts), and we were both drawn to the art form in part because of the literal weight it gives to words. Even if you don’t ink the press’ rollers, this form of relief printing leaves a mark on the paper. The care required to set the type and the impression it makes on the paper are an appropriate homage to the written word.

We left our planning session energized, eager to share our love of art and writing with these young girls. And as I continue to plow through my ever-growing stack of reading material, I’m grateful that others share their words with me.

Pour me a glass of wine, talk deep into the night

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

This is another entry I wrote and saved as a draft, at least a year ago. It seems appropriate to trot it back out now, during a season of particular introversion and reflection.

I’ve been interested in psychology since I knew what it was, or at least since I enrolled in AP Psych during my junior year of high school. I briefly attended grad school in school counseling, and I still think back to my emotional-social disorders and intro to counseling theories. I never could settle on a theory that I most favored, but given my obsession with the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I think I might have tended toward Jungian thought.

I bring this up because I’ve been analyzing people constantly since last fall, when I read Isabel Myers’ Gifts Differing. I took the MBTI years ago, so I’ve classified myself as an INFJ for ages. From what I’d read on the matter, I agreed with the type. But I had no idea how frighteningly accurate it is until I read more about the indicator. Some parts that struck me as particularly interesting:

Introverts characteristically pause before action (true of me!). Extroverts dominate Western civilization, and outnumber introverts three to one.

Introverts are inherently continuous because their being is based on inner stimuli.

In work, introverts are often slow to publish or proclaim it finished, but it gains depth. … less affected by lack of encouragement; value of work not determined by others.

Introverts are closer to eternal truths. Extroverts understand by experiencing.

“The extrovert’s wish for active sociability runs counter to the introvert’s wish for privacy, especially when the introvert’s work is socially demanding. The day’s work may use up all the extraversion available; home represents a chance for the peace and quiet needed to regain balance.”

You only give me your funny paper

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

During a “positive attributes” exercise at a staff retreat this summer, a coworker wrote about me, “Reading, writing and ‘rithmetic–well, two out of three ain’t bad!” And I jokingly took offense, because I always did pretty well in math, thank you very much. Still, there’s some truth to the stereotype that writers aren’t great with numbers–even when those numbers are monetary. Sometimes, a creative challenge can lead a writer to financial focus.

I’ve tested my self discipline before by taking a month off from eating out. I often default to “let’s do lunch!” when I need to get together with a friend or work contact. And I love eating out, but I also value cooking for myself and thoughtfully determining what I’ll consume that day or week. Taking a month away from restaurants saved money, I’m sure, but it also helped me focus on larger issues, like my morning time management or disregarding my advance planning and eating out with colleagues even when I brought lunch to work.

This week, I’ve challenged myself in another way. My roommate and I bought our Christmas tree on Sunday, with me putting it on my debit card and Holly repaying me in cash. The $20 bill she handed me served as inspiration: I decided to see if I could make it through the work week using only that bill.

Mind you, I did allow an exception, as rent was due yesterday. But otherwise, I’ve paid for everything with that $20. When I needed milk Monday, I avoided satisfying other cravings (steak and a bottle of Cabernet) because they weren’t within my week’s budget. I’ve also been mindful of how often I stop at the coffee shop, because I only had so much cash in my wallet.

This was an easy week for an experiment, I’ll admit. Rent was the only bill due, and I had a half-tank of gas to start the week.  But my little game has been useful even as I rationed what I already had, carefully contemplating my route from appointment to appointment and determining if I would have enough gas to make it through Friday.

Now I’m facing down tomorrow with about $7 left. I’ll spend more Saturday before we have friends over for dinner, and I’ll probably need to fill my gas tank. But I’m considering a $20 work week allowance. Even if I get a serious caffeine craving, that’s 10 cups of coffee (before tip) at my local coffee shop!

The week’s totals:

Monday, $1 on pita chips at lunch
$7 on an onion, three potatoes and milk

Tuesday, $0

Wednesday, $2.76 on a small coffee plus a refill

Thursday, $0.93 on a petite scone and $1.93 on a small coffee

He was the author of the faith that could make the mountains move

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

While playing with this site’s settings on Thanksgiving, I came across several unpublished posts. I’m not sure what held me back from hitting “publish” two years ago, but this entry still rings true. It’s also remarkable how much has changed since I wrote it, on Nov. 28, 2008.

After several days filled with family and friends, tonight is this girl’s night in. And it’s time, at last, that I can listen to Christmas music guilt-free.

I waited until I returned home from today’s errands, then began with the newest of my three favorite Christmas albums. Red Mountain Church‘s Silent Night carried me through cooking dinner, and Snow Angels by Over the Rhine accompanied me as I ate, then straightened up my apartment.

Finally, I turned on Andrew Peterson’s Behold the Lamb of God, dragged my Christmas decorations out of the attic and launched into the annual task of evaluating each item. The star ornament I bought last year hangs in my bedroom year-round. The Pottery Barn poinsettias and mistletoe always go out first, followed this year by my tree topper. (Though treeless, I found it a home perched among the books on my to read shelf–located in my kitchen, so it’s positioned for maximum viewability.) I continued lifting boxes of ornaments out of the Rubbermaid tub.

And then I uncovered four packages of Christmas letterhead stationery.

It’s funny how the smallest items send you back in time. I bought this stationery, decorated with Luke 2:11 and John 1:16, in an after-Christmas sale in (I’m guessing) 2001. By the time Christmas returned, I expected to be on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ. This paper would serve as the background for my December prayer letter to my ministry supporters.

Life so rarely turns out how we expect! I interviewed with Crusade that December, was accepted to staff, received a staff account number and the information I needed to raise support for the 2002 summer training. And then, a month before graduation, I decided not to go on staff.

It’s a decision I’ve never regretted. I was to be campus staff, aka a professional extrovert. It wasn’t a good fit, and I am so glad life has turned out as it has.

But it is so different than I imagined when I bought that stationery.

I am in love with something invisible

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m generally a rather organized, precise girl. So when I intended to renew my Oxford American subscription, I was fairly sure that I had followed through. Apparently not; I continued receiving renewal notices, warning me that I was in danger of missing the annual music issue. (Don’t you worry. Not only did I send in my two-year, automatic renewal notice–with the bonus of a gift subscription for my mother–this morning, I also pre-ordered the music issue. This year’s focus is Alabama music. I’ve anticipated it for months.)

Meanwhile, as I began reading the December issue of Esquire, I noticed an interesting notation on my subscription label. April 2013.

I’m glad I got something right–a couple of times over.

It was the air you breathed that fanned the flame

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

“You are daring to imagine that you could have a different life.” –Birdie to Kathleen, You’ve Got Mail

Travel expands your view of the world, sometimes showing you a different way of life, and sometimes showing you that it could be your own. After four days in New York City, shared with people I love, I remember that Birmingham isn’t the only city where life happens. It’s even possible that it’s not the only city for me.

I realize how counter-intuitive that sounds. New York is the stuff of dreams, literature and screens, big and small. Birmingham is typically not. But I’ve found my home and dreams in Alabama, with a career that satisfies me, a small group of friends I love and volunteer work I’m passionate about.

For years, New York has been the thing I don’t want. It’s fast-paced and high pressure–traits I’ve captured just fine on my own, thanks, without a city to reinforce them. But seeing the city with my sisters and my friends Josh and Dan reminded me that so much contentment comes from being around people who care about and challenge you.

I may be a little more susceptible to that right now, because I have had trouble connecting with a lot of people around me lately. That disconnect seems to come and go with different seasons of life. The truth is, I love Birmingham and am committed to it for the foreseeable future.

But there are other possibilities out there. And maybe it’s healthy for me to see that.

Head full of doubt, road full of promise

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Today I had one of those moments when you realize you’re becoming your parents. I usually love those; I’m perfectly content as an almost-perfect hybrid of my homebody mom and dreamer dad. But I’m afraid even my dad would be disappointed by today’s epiphany.

I don’t recall specifically how we got there, but this afternoon my boss, a coworker and I were in my boss’ office, listening to her stories of visiting the Czech Republic and Slovakia. As she rhapsodized about towns frozen in time and picturesque scenery that seemed straight off a set for Cinderella, I suddenly realized: I may never see these things myself. I may never travel outside of my own country. I may have already become my parents.

My dad, in particular, is bothered by his lack of travel experience. I barely remember a family trip to the Birmingham International Airport when I was just a tiny thing. Daddy was off to Michigan for a church mission trip, and I stood at the window, waving goodbye.

For the longest time, that was the most exotic trip I could recall my dad taking. Last year he accepted a new job that required him to spend two weeks in Denver for training. He was nervous about the cold and not particularly excited about the trip. But Mom was thinking of flying out for a long weekend to visit, and I did my best to convince them that this was the best idea they’d had in a long time. I’ve been to and through Colorado several times, and a long weekend in Telluride was one of the most magical experiences of my still-young life. (Plus, that dry cold really is different. Even to this Alabama-born, Florida-raised girl, it wasn’t so bad.) Mom and Dad listened to my advice, and sure enough they had a wonderful weekend.

Earlier this year, he was flying back west for more training. It was a week or so after I spent a day in Washington, D.C., and Dad just happened to have a layover in Dulles International Airport. It didn’t take much to persuade him to leave the airport, take public transit to the National Mall and at least spend a few minutes taking in the nation’s capitol. He agreed that a glimpse of D.C. was worth returning to airport security.

There’s so much my dad still wants to see. He’s never even been to New York City to visit my younger sister. But with a mortgage, bills and a kid still in high school (for seven more months), travel hasn’t been in the cards.

And though I take after my mom’s homebody tendencies–I’ll spend part of my upcoming vacation sitting on my couch with a stack of books–there’s so much world out there that I want to experience. It costs money, though, so much more than I have been able to set aside for such an occasion. My travels have taken me to New York, Seattle, San Diego and Telluride, but save for a few hours in Cozumel, those trips may not take me beyond our nation’s borders.

My mental to-save-for list is too long for my liking. The rainy day fund will never be big enough to make me feel secure. I suppose that’s life for a worrier. But I also hope to save for a car to eventually replace my ’99 sedan. One day I might like to buy a house. Or a couch. I may someday get married, and I don’t expect Mom and Dad to spring for that occasion. I’m not going to begin saving for college funds for unborn children from an unmet husband, but I will say it seems sometimes that the list of reasons to save could stretch out endlessly.

So where does a trip to Europe fit in? How do I make my way to Bali, and the little town my friend Jamie insists would be my southeastern Asia spot? Will I ever visit friends in Africa? Even if I muster the courage to spend weeks in Mexico, trying to understand the conditions that lead people to risk everything to immigrate to the United States, legally or not, would I have the means to do so?

As with anything in life, it’s easier to accept failure than to try and risk success. But if I’m going to tackle any of my dream list, I’ve got to make squirelling money away a higher priority. I’ve taken a month off of eating out, and that may be a start. But there’s so much happening in this city, and so much that’s free or cheap, that I’ve got no excuse for not trying a little harder. I think it would make my mom and daddy proud.

2010 Concerts

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley
  1. 30A Songwriters Festival including Shawn Mullins, Nicole Witt, Pete Sallis, Chas Sandford, Brian White, Rodney Crowell, Chely Wright, Ballog!, Dread Clampitt, Sam Bush, Susanna Hoffs, Evan McHugh, Gary Louris, Beaches of South Walton, Fla., Jan. 15-17
  2. Love You Live including The Enemy Lovers, Will Hoge, Preston Lovinggood and Matthew Mayfield, WorkPlay, Feb. 17
  3. Punch Brothers, Montgomery Performing Arts Center, Feb.25
  4. Over the Rhine with Jon Black, WorkPlay, March 9
  5. The Civil Wars, WorkPlay, March 19
  6. David Gray, Atlanta Civic Center, April 10
  7. Paint the Town Red including The Hearts, Sharrif Simmons, Todd Simpson and Mojo Child, The Enemey Lovers and Matthew Mayfield, Downtown Birmingham loft district, April 17
  8. Hangout Festival, including Alison Krauss, Ray LaMontagne, Guster, Michael Franti, Ben Harper, Trey Anastasio, AA Bondy, Brett Dennen and the Zac Brown Band, Gulf Shores, May 15-17
  9. Alabama Symphony Orchestra Classical Mystery Tour, Alabama Theatre, May 28
  10. Act of Congress and Three On A String with the ASO, Alabama Theatre, June 3
  11. Green Leaves Listening Party, Urban Standard, July 10
  12. Imaginary Planes/Sunny So Brite/Great Book of John, Bottletree, July 16
  13. Jon Black, Bottletree, July 20
  14. Paul McCartney, Bridgestone Arena, July 26
  15. Black Jacket Symphony presents the Rolling Stones Let It Bleed, WorkPlay, Aug. 13
  16. Birmingham Arts and Music Festival including Grey Haven, Green Seed, Delicate Cutters, Green Leaves and Vasa, downtown Birmingham, Aug. 20-21
  17. Delicate Cutters Listening Party, Urban Standard, Aug. 21
  18. Jon Black Listening Party, Urban Standard, Oct. 16
  19. Rosanne Cash, Alys Stephens Center, Oct. 23
  20. Mumford and Sons with King Charles and Cadillac Sky, Buckhead Theater, Atlanta, Nov. 8
  21. Punch Brothers with Michael Tolcher, WorkPlay, Nov. 17
  22. Through the Sparks with Sunny So Brite, Bottletree, Nov. 27
  23. Black Jacket Symphony presents AC/DC’s Back in Black, WorkPlay, Dec. 17

I wasn’t ready to go, I’m never ready to go

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m intense. I know this about myself, and most of the time I’ll freely admit it. Lately that’s manifested itself in the lists I make, trying to capture order in my little life. Birmingham bucket list (so far only the Zoo, because that’s what I was discussing when I started the list). Activities I belong to (DISCO, MORE, RMC, EOL). Activities I’m taking a break from (CG, PTTR). My essential friends (I’ll leave that one to the imagination). My 30th birthday party guest list (that’s still in process–the party’s not till July).

But today, my intensity showed up in the serious thought I gave to cleaning my office. I’ve worked in journalism for five and a half years, and I believe I still have files for every story I’ve written in that time. (If you figure an average of four stories a week during my year and a half of newspaper writing, an average of 10 stories a month during my first two and a half years of magazine writing and an average closer to five stories a month over the past year and a half, that’s easily 700 stories. And I’m not even counting blog posts–for which, mercifully, I’ve mostly avoided filing away physical notes.)

None of the friends I’ve surveyed have an exact system for determining when they should let go of these reams of paper. Yes, I’m looking for a precise methodology, because that’s what I do. And of course many of my friends are also in media, because we understand each other’s insanity. (Or because we’re too incestuous to make friends outside our industry. I’m not sure. My grad school professors worried about us.) So lacking rhyme or reason for both discarding and retaining files, today I opened a drawer and pulled everything out.

One year of files filled two trash cans.

Though I’m still worried that I was too quick to toss things, it mostly felt good to let go of the past, and of the clutter. My office is a bit of a cave. We’ve got two cubicles jammed in there, and I only have three full file drawers. My 2010 folders have been crammed between magazines atop the extra filing cabinet I rescued from storage, and I don’t have a suitable place for a guest to sit. It’s all very orderly, but I often feel like the stacks of paper are closing in on me. I won’t take meetings in there; the extra chair I keep handy is primarily so a coworker can fill me in on the previous night’s dates.

So as much as it worried me, and as much discussion as it prompted, today was a milestone. I let go of a little control and gained some freedom in return.

And then I rushed home to blog about it. Maybe that (and the fact that I have semi-colon artwork–awesome semi-colon artwork–in my office) is indicative of how much control I could stand to relinquish.

Sometimes you just need somebody else

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Originally posted on Birmingham Box Set, Feb. 8, 2010. Reposted here because it’s what I need today.

As much time as I spend bouncing from concert to fundraiser to party, the truth of the matter is that I’m an introvert. I love spending full weekends curled up in bed with my cat, a book and a cup of coffee.

Two months ago, I moved in with a roommate after two and a half years living on my own. I loved living alone. I had my own space, everything was just as I wanted it, and coming home was like a little retreat. It’s not that I don’t have those things in my new house. But I opted to live with a roommate again in part because I am so prone to retreating when something’s on my mind. Sometimes my introverted tendencies get the best of me.

This is a playlist for those times.