Autobiography – Page 4 – Carla Jean Whitley

The big city calls and your daughters are smiling in the windows of apartment buildings

Posted on July 23, 2014July 22, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

As we took in the sound of Gabe Witcher’s bow dancing across the strings of his violin and Greg Garrison’s carefully chosen plunks of the bass chords, I was overwhelmed again by Punch Brothers’ debut album, “Punch.” When I reviewed the album at the time of its 2008 release, I spent six weeks obsessing over it before putting it aside for three months. The music is absorbing, and I needed a beat away from its introspective content.

I had wanted to play this album for my boyfriend since we began dating two years ago; he’s an audiophile and a classical music fan. I knew this album would sound fantastic on his speakers, and I suspected the composition, which takes cues from classical music and jazz, would grab his attention.

After the recording ended, I noted that my interest in attending Alabama Symphony Orchestra performances–particularly the masterworks series–was likely influenced by this album, and most certainly by its primary composer, Chris Thile. Before meeting Put, I attended a handful of ASO special events. But I had never been to what I thought of as a “proper” symphony performance. I wasn’t sure if I’d like it, but I wanted to find out. (Put took me to hear the ASO perform one of Tchaikovsky’s symphonies during our first few months dating. I’ve been hooked.)

In other words, “Punch” was a game changer for me. But it certainly isn’t the only album that holds that distinction. Caedmon’s Call’s “40 Acres” was the first album to make me realize sometimes the best songs aren’t on the radio. It took a while for it to click, but “Abbey Road” was the album that kickstarted my Beatles fan-dom. I don’t know what made me hear the album differently than the first five or six times I played it, but once it made sense, I couldn’t get enough.

This isn’t an exhaustive list, and I know I’m not alone. I want to know: Which albums have been game changers for you?

Today’s subject line comes from Punch Brothers’ “Blind Leaving the Blind: Third Movement.”

Am I what I read?

Posted on July 3, 2014June 30, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

In “The Polysyllabic Spree,” Nick Hornby writes, “All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal. … But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not.”

It’s an arguable point, but one I identified with immediately. My bookcases are stuffed to overflowing with books I haven’t yet read, and I’m always acquiring more. I’m admittedly, unabashedly a book hoarder.

Sometimes those piles of books paralyze me. I’m so excited by the choices that I can’t decide what to read next. That’s been the case quite often in recent months, and even more so since I returned from Book Expo America; a tidy pile of advance reader copies now lines one wall of my bedroom.

It’s not just that I can’t decide what to read first. If only things were so simple! I’ve also run out of space in which to store all of these books. I have books in my living room, books in my kitchen. I’d store books in my bathroom if there were only a bit more space. I tuck books into the nooks of my secretary-style desk, and I pile books artfully on the shelves of end tables.

There’s a method to my madness, with genres sorted by room and shelves. But my bedroom is now out of control. The bookcase holds Alabama books and writing books, and my most treasured books top my dresser. But I’ve got borrowed books tucked beneath the head of my bed, and books I intend to mail to my nephew at the foot. (Books meant to be mailed to Mom are in the backseat of my car, because who needs logic?) Recent acquisitions were perched atop and nestled beside my typewriter, but that space has overflowed. Now, they’re stacked between my dresser and the wall and, as I’ve mentioned, lining one wall of my room.

I know it’s a bit crazy, but I’ve made my peace with the disarray. If it’s good enough for Nick Hornby, it’s good enough for me.

These are the books I’ve acquired in the six weeks since and including BEA.

Dangerous by Susan Fast
The Objects of Her Affection by Sonya Cobb
Straight White Male by John Niven
Liberty’s Torch by Elizabeth Mitchell
The Walled City by Ryan Graudin
What Do You Do with An Idea? by Kobi Yamada (Read it, loved it, glad he gave me a copy for my nephew, too.)
On Immunity by Eula Biss
Lies We Tell Ourselves by Robin Talleh
We Are Not Ourselves by Matthew Thomas
Neverhome by Laird Hunt
King Dork Approximately by Frank Portman
The David Foster Wallace Reader
Reunion by Hannah Pittard
The Story Hour by Thrity Umrigar
The Great Escape by Andrew Steinmetz
The Giver by Lois Lowry
The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace by Jeff Hobbs
Epilogue by Will Boast
Letters to a Birmingham Jail
Soldier of Change by Stephen Snyder-Hill
File Under: 13 Suspicious Incidents by Lemony Snickett
Chakra Meditation by Swami Sadadananda
Mo’s Mustache by Ben Clanton (Read and ready to send to my little nephew!)
Rain Reign by Ann M. Martin
This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper
So We Read On by Maureen Corrigan
Terminal City by Linda Fairstein (Picked up for my aunt, still sitting in my bedroom. Oops.)
The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton
Fire Shut Up in My Bones by Charles M. Blow
The Republic of Imagination by Azar Nafisi
The Secret Wisdom of the Earth by Christopher Scotton
Goodnight June by Sarah Jio
Wild Idea: Buffalo & Family in a Difficult Land by Dan O’Brien (I actually had to leave my copy at BEA because I couldn’t carry any more books, but I re-acquired it at Church Street’s Book Hangout last week. Hurrah!)
The Elements of Style Illustrated by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White (Purchased at The Strand)
Writers on Writing (Purchased at The Strand)
Love, Loss and What I Wore by Nora and Delia Ephron (Purchased at The Strand)
Only As Good As Your Word by Susan Shapiro (Purchased at The Strand; this was the one book I bought that I didn’t set out to find. What a happy surprise! I have enjoyed Susan Shapiro’s work in the past, and while on the flight to New York I read a Writer’s Digest article that mentioned her.)
Still Writing by Dani Shapiro (Purchased at The Strand)
The Leftovers by Tom Perrotta (I found this in a freebie pile at the office–we receive more books than we can possibly write anything about–and snagged it because the commercials for the new HBO show had been creeping me out. I’m about halfway through and intrigued.)
Your Fathers, Where are They? And the Prophets, Do They Live Forever? by Dave Eggers (Also found in the freebie pile in the office. I’m intrigued by Eggers and I would, of course, like to have a career in which I too can write across a variety of genres and find success.)
My Conference Can Beat Your Conference by Paul Finebaum (SEC! SEC! SEC!)
The Public Library: A Photographic Essay by Robert Dawson (A library book, but one I’m likely to end up purchasing for myself.)
The Everything Store: Jeff Bezos and the Age of Amazon by Brad Stone (Also a library book, but worth mentioning.)

The dream that you wish will come true

Posted on July 1, 2014June 23, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

When I was 10 years old, I decided I wanted to make my living as a writer. Thirteen years later, I saw my name in print at the end of my first paid, professional clip.

My journalism professors at the University of Alabama often encouraged us to pitch story ideas to a range of publications, even if those ideas were developed in the classroom. I’ve never been particularly quick to step up and tell someone why I deserve their attention, and so interviewing folks for those classroom assignments was intimidating. (I still get nervous before many interviews, even a decade later!) Approaching editors about publishing my work was even more so.

But my spring 2004 review writing class, taught by Alabama Public Radio book reviewer and University of Alabama professor emeritus Don Noble, left me with plenty of material. Dr. Noble required us to review something weekly; sometimes our focus was restaurants, sometimes books, other times, music. I sent several of my assignments on to the student newspaper, The Crimson White. And I suspected I could do more still.

Getting published in Relevant magazine was one of my goals, and so I sent an email out into the ether, pitching a book review I wrote for class. After a round of heavy editing, which cut the review from several hundred words to about 50, my first national piece was ready to go. I was interning in Orlando when the magazine finally hit stands, and my friends shared in my excitement. The paycheck wasn’t much ($10, if memory serves), but I was still thrilled to be compensated for doing something I loved.

Ten years later, I still write about both books and music. Although seeing my name in print has become a regular occasion, the thrill never wears off.

The yoga of being there

Posted on June 20, 2014June 17, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

I had hoped to attend at least one yoga class while I was in New York last month. I’ve got to review several classes as part of my yoga teacher training, and I thought it would be intriguing to see how things were done in another part of the country. So I asked my regular teacher for recommendations, jotted down the studio and teacher she suggested and tentatively planned to zip from my conference to a little downward dog action.

It didn’t happen.

There are a number of reasons, and what I thought would be the biggest (the studio’s location in relation to the conference, which wasn’t especially convenient) turned out to be the least of my worries. I spent two days on my feet surrounded my tens of thousands of other people. I was wiped by the end of each day, and the last thing I needed was a physically challenging asana practice.

But as any teacher trainee or relatively dedicated yogi would tell you, asana is only one part of yoga.

I had plenty of opportunity to focus on yoga’s other aspects (and, OK, even a little asana) during Book Expo America. I spent a great deal of time focused on my breath, trying to stay calm in the midst of an overstimulating environment. I tried to let outside distractions fall away and turn my focus inward. And I spent a great deal of time in tadasana, or mountain pose, attempting to root my feet into the ground, lift my inner arches and support my spine with my core muscles, even as I waited in line for nearly an hour in some cases to meet various authors.

I love the asana practice, and it’s what drew me–and so many others–to yoga. But there’s so much more happening on my mat than my bending into funny postures. And although my body ached at the end of a few days of BEA, I’m always grateful for the reminder that there’s more to yoga than downward facing dog.

Struggling with perfectionism

Posted on May 5, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m in the process of becoming trained as a yoga teacher, and the nine-month-long training includes writing a number of papers. I’ll post them here because, well, that’s what I do. The third writing assignment was a reflection on chakras. This assignment was challenging for me because the concepts are so different from what I’m accustomed to. But I also enjoy learning about things outside of my norm, so I’m continuing to study this.

I often wrestle with my perfectionist tendencies. That shows up in the words I use to describe myself and my key traits. Am I Type A, anal retentive, obsessive? Or am I detail oriented, organized and methodical?

I’ve been faced with those labels (yet again) as I go through yoga teacher training. This week I’ve been trying to read “Eastern Body, Western Mind,” a 450-page book that explores the chakras, or energy centers, and psychology. I’m supposed to be concentrating on a chakra for a week, addressing it in some way three times daily.

This has been an especially busy season of life, and so I tried to take what seemed like the easy way out on this one. I have a ton of lavender-scented items around my house, so I would figure out which chakra lavender interacted with and start working on that. A friend shared a chart representing the correlation of different oils to different chakras, making my work much easier. Lavender correlates with the crown and third eye chakras? Great. I’ll pay attention to one of those.

So I did—or I tried to, at least. I slathered myself with lavender-citrus body lotion that first morning. I donned a purple shirt. (I’ll confess, I still wasn’t sure which chakra I was addressing, but I figured purple was a safe bet. I haven’t yet figured out the difference between indigo and violet, but those are the colors of these two chakras.) I smeared purple eye shadow in the creases of my eyelids, and I was off.

I know this sounds like a poorly executed plan. It was. I’ve felt pulled in many directions lately, and I’m struggling to keep up. A couple of busy weeks have meant that I’ve put off my reading and even let my yoga practice slip. After-work commitments and impending deadlines have gotten the best of me, and I’ve allowed them to do so.

On the first night, I came home from work early and changed into a pair of yoga pants. I had articles left to edit and plans yet to make, but I could at least be comfortable doing so. (I opted to keep on my purple shirt for whatever chakra-related energy it might provide.) I slipped back into the busy-ness.

Hours later, I realized I was hungry and past my usual dinner time. But I needed something more than dinner; I needed grounding. As an omelet slowly cooked on my stovetop, I returned to my mat. My practice wasn’t complicated or especially challenging. I used a Yoga Journal-suggested sequence I had programmed into my phone on the ride back from the beach earlier this week (even four-and-a-half hour car trips can be productive, right?). It was 13 minutes without adequate warm up, and I could feel throughout my body the tightness that comes from a sedentary, stressful life. But I was moving, and it felt good.

That movement also prompted a realization: I realized that the cerebral, ethereal energy centers of the crown and third-eye chakras aren’t where my focus needs to be concentrated—at least not in a way that would encourage further development. If anything, I could be overdeveloped in these areas. It’s not like me to shift course mid-journey. I like to make a plan and stick with it. But in this case, I needed to make a change.

Instead, I shifted my attention to my root chakra. Part of my craving for control is surely tied to a desire for security and order in all things. I’ve got that in some areas of my life, but in others I’m experiencing a lot of ambiguity. I’m seeking balance and a healthy relationship with that uncertainty as I continue to face my Type-A personality in all its glory and shame.

After all, that’s why I began practicing yoga.

But even though I know that focusing on being grounded is the right choice for me right now, those struggles have continued to show up. I’ve gone through the motions, donning essential oils, drinking ginger tea and focusing on mountain pose. The entire concept of chakras is so other, though, that I’m having trouble wrapping my head around how all of these pieces tie together. I’ve grown frustrated with myself because I just don’t get it.

Even so, I’ll continue to wrestle with these concepts. Just as yoga is about the journey, not the destination, I suspect that grasping related concepts is an ongoing process.

I have a scar from a container of deodorant

Posted on April 29, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

Can you see the little white line? Barely? Maybe? Yeah, so you can see I was right not to worry.

I remember the scene like this:

My best friends Amy, Erin and I sat in Erin’s bedroom, lights out, black light on, black light posters glowing on the wall and Smashing Pumpkins’ “Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness” (ed.: thanks for the catch, Renita!) playing over the boom box. It was the middle of another bright, sunny afternoon in suburban Florida.

No, we weren’t doing anything illicit. In the years since, I’ve realized that this set up may sound as though we were up to something. We were merely 14, and therefore a bit odd.

Amy and Erin lounged on one side of the room as I perched on Erin’s dresser, my back to the window. I don’t think we were doing anything particular; we were high-school freshmen, and therefore our time together consisted of a lot of angst about nothing in particular, the occasional dance party (“Pump Up the Jam,” anyone?) and a lot of rock ‘n’ roll. It’s the same story teenagers have acted out throughout the generations.

But on that day, Erin took an ordinary afternoon in a different direction. She picked up a canister of deodorant, intending to startle me by throwing it at the wall beside me. Erin had a great arm.

And terrible aim.

The deodorant slammed into my chin, its wheel slicing through the skin and into the fat below. I covered it with my hand, hurt but mostly startled. When I moved my hand away, Erin saw blood and burst into tears.

Perhaps I should have gotten stitches, but Erin’s mom was a nurse and applied butterfly bandages as her daughter continued to weep. My dad later worried that I’d be so badly scarred that we should consider plastic surgery. I thought the incident was funny, and for years prized the “boo-boo bear” Erin brought me the next day, its chin also covered in a bandage.

The scar is almost untraceable; no one notices it unless I point it out, and they quickly forget it thereafter. But the story of how a stick of Secret Summer Breeze lacerated my chin lives on.

I’ve shared this story a few times over the years, often as a random, context-free fact that no one would guess about me. After a recent comment on my friend Rachel’s blog, I decided it was time to finally write it down. Erin wants you to know that she felt immense guilt. I want you to know that I, too, feel remorse–I didn’t fully appreciate that Smashing Pumpkins album till years later.

Resetting my perspective

Posted on April 25, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m in the process of becoming trained as a yoga teacher, and the nine-month-long training includes writing a number of papers. I’ll post them here because, well, that’s what I do.

The first two were observations on yamas and niyamas. This is my niyama paper, which I wrote earlier this month.

“Everything is OK.”

Earlier this week, my yoga teacher began class with that statement. It was especially powerful because I knew she had reasons to feel otherwise. But that was exactly her point during that day’s practice: Happiness is fleeting, and often based on our circumstances. Santosha, or contentment, comes from a deeper place.

Most of the time, I operate from that mindset. I can’t say everything in my life is perfect, but overall, life is pretty darn good. I’m alive and well, and I’m surrounded by people who love me and whom I love. The rest are just details.

But I’m also clinically depressed, which can make me lose perspective perhaps even more easily than the average person. A minor problem can quickly cloud my vision, leaving me thinking that life as I know it is over.

I’ve seen that frequently in the process of writing my first book. There have been many moments when I wonder why this terrible thing is happening to me. How did I get myself into this? Will life ever be the same again?

When I take a deep breath and reset my perspective, I remember that this is exactly what I’ve always hoped for. I’ve wanted to write a book (or several dozen!) since I was in elementary school. Now I have that opportunity, with assurance that it will be published.

Taking a moment to slow down and reflect on reality, rather than my perspective-distorting insecurities, can remind me that everything is, in fact, OK. The worst that can happen is unlikely to become reality, and the truth is that I lead a pretty nice life. Contentment isn’t based so much on the circumstances, but age and life experience have increased my understanding.

Living without margins

Posted on April 24, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

I’m in the process of becoming trained as a yoga teacher, and the nine-month-long training includes writing a number of papers. I’ll post them here because, well, that’s what I do.

The first two were observations on yamas and niyamas. This is my yama paper, which I wrote earlier this month.

Today’s to-do list may offer insight into my current relationship with boundaries. It starts by sitting down to write this paper, a task I’ve put off for several days because other projects took higher priority. Once my morning writing is complete, I’ll drive to WorkPlay for my weekly radio segment.

Then the work truly begins.

I know already I have a full day in the office, with two stories to complete, a number of others to edit and planning for the remainder of 2014. At some point, I’m hoping to sneak in an email to a key source for my book. Research on 40 years of music history has taken longer than I anticipated, so I’ve already received an extension for that project. Even so, I’m also holding myself to a 1,000-word-a-day writing goal. I’m saving all teaching-related duties for another day.

And I’ve still got social obligations, too; tonight is the Literacy Council’s Girlfriend Gala, one of my favorite benefits of the year.

It’s not that I’m any busier than anyone else; that seems to be the norm in our society. But I regularly add to those demands by piling on the projects. That’s especially true in my professional life. I often joke that one job isn’t enough.

However, the effects spill into every other area. Lately, I’ve struggled to wake up with my alarm—a battle I suspect has been made more difficult by staring at a screen for extra hours daily as I write a book. That’s made it difficult to find time to spend with my girl friends, and I often fall asleep while hanging out with my boyfriend.

These particular challenges exist for a season, and it’s one that will soon end. But my relationship to brahmacharya, or boundaries, will continue. I expect to see ebb and flow in how much I allow my calendar to rule my life, as I have in my years to date. But I hope to increase my margins, for my own sake and the sake of my relationships.

Only the curious have something to find

Posted on April 16, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

Tonight I revisited the soundtrack to my 20s.

I’m not sure I could have previously pinpointed what that sounded like. But as Nickel Creek performed a variety of songs from their four main albums, I felt as though I was taking an audio tour of my past.

“The Lighthouse’s Tale” took me back to Saturday game nights during my senior year of college. We knew two albums were sure crowd pleasers: a mid-90s rock mix a friend made, and Nickel Creek’s self-titled album.

“This Side,” in hindsight, was the perfect song to carry me into that awkward year after college. The band released that album the month I would have started my senior year (had I not decided to finish early). Life felt foreign, indeed, on that side of graduation.

“When You Come Back Down” is one of several songs that remind me vividly of moving back to Alabama and finally chasing down my dream: a career in journalism. When I enrolled in grad school at Alabama, I wasn’t sure I would make it in this field. I had always been told I was a good writer, but I knew journalism was a competitive, intense industry. I realized how much I had to learn in my first semester, thanks to the Intro to Reporting class (a course I earned a B in, but now teach). I was terrified, but I was taking a chance I believed was worth taking.

It was hard to believe it would pay off during nights when I would lie awake, obsessing over how I could strengthen my resume and skill set in order to get a job. When I couldn’t quiet my mind, I’d return that self-titled album to my CD player. By track three, “Out of the Woods,” I would be breathing easier. By the song’s end, I would usually fall asleep.

My favorite band seemed to change with me, with instrumentals on each album exploring new territory (I love “Ode to a Butterfly,” but “Smoothie Song” and “Scotch and Chocolate” took my growing interest in instrumental music a step further). Every time “First and Last Waltz” begins, I remember again how it seamlessly transitions into “Helena,” showing how a voiceless piece of music can set the tone for what’s to come.

“Doubting Thomas,” and “Why Should the Fire Die?” as a whole, carried me further still. The album came out while I was working my first job. I knew journalism was the right fit–I loved it even more than I imagined I might–but I was also struggling with the adjustment that accompanies working full time and figuring out life on your own. The answers weren’t always easy, and the journey didn’t always look like what I expected.

“Reasons Why” has always encapsulated the struggle of those unmet expectations. There were nights, particularly in 2002, when I would play the song on repeat. It remains my official favorite song of all time.

When I first heard “Hayloft” on the band’s latest album, I was taken aback. It felt jarring in the context of both their previous work and “A Dotted Line.” But the song has grown on me, and seeing it performed tonight reminded me of how much Nickel Creek has matured in the 13 years I’ve loved their music. These songs and musicians have been the soundtrack to my growing up.

Nickel Creek, Alabama Theatre April 16, 2014

Destination / The Lighthouse’s Tale / Scotch and Chocolate / This Side / Rest of My Life / Out of the Woods / Ode to a Butterfly / When In Rome / 21st of May / Anthony / Smoothie Song / You Don’t Know What’s Going On / Reasons Why / Doubting Thomas / Elephant in the Corn / Somebody More Like You / Hayloft / The Fox

Encore: First and Last Waltz / Helena / Cuckoo’s Nest / Where Is Love Now

Remembering what matters most

Posted on April 1, 2014 by Carla Jean Whitley

When in doubt, I turn to Nora Ephron for inspiration.

Tonight I spent three hours working on my book. Tomorrow I’ll grade this finish grading my students’ papers and begin the last month of the semester. Thursday evening I’ll attend a party to benefit one of my favorite nonprofits. This weekend I’ll spend 20-plus hours in yoga teacher training. And sometime, someday soon, I’ll rest.

I’m fortunate to be at a point in life when I get to delve into so many passions in so many different ways. I love teaching, writing, editing, volunteering and mentoring.

I also know this season won’t last forever. As it is, I try not to commit to anything unless I’m passionate about it. In the past, that’s meant saying no to some very good things in order to devote my attention to the issues that are most important to me. Now, that also requires me to consider everything on my plate and whether it’s an activity I should dedicate time to for a season or indefinitely.

As I age, I also regularly reflect on my goals and priorities. I have a number of professional aims, and they’ve been adjusted through the years as I cross them off the list. (Yes, I keep an actual list. I doubt you’re surprised.) But my greatest priority isn’t my work, satisfying and necessary (girl’s gotta eat!) as it is. It’s more important to me to love well and devote my attention to those who I hold closest.

Perfect balance is an illusion, but I’m striving to dedicate the best of me to those people. That’s why I often disconnect from social media on the weekends and confine my freelance work to the week nights when possible. It’s also why I am beginning to, again, examine my commitments and determine which I may need to step away from.

I’m especially aware of that search for equilibrium when deadlines draw closer and my calendar fills with writing projects. Even when I have to settle for a carefully scheduled brunch or a short phone call between appointments, I must regularly remind myself that it’s the people, not the activities, that matter most.