Leaving a Legacy

A couple of years ago, my roommate was working on a five-year plan. The idea frightened me: What should my goals be? Where did I want to reside? How would I get from point A to point B?

I’ve achieved most of my career goals earlier than I expected. When I worked in newspapers, my aim was to report for the Birmingham News by the time I turned 30; I started work there the month before I hit 25. I interned at Birmingham magazine while I was in grad school, and when I left I thought it would be a great job if they were ever hiring. Tomorrow is my six-year anniversary. After I’d been at the magazine for a while, I knew I wanted to become managing editor someday. I assumed that role in July 2009 (days after my 28th birthday).

Now, my career goals focus more on what the magazine can achieve than what I can achieve. We were finalists in the general excellence category for the 2011 City and Regional Magazine Association awards, and I literally danced with joy around Urban Standard when I found out. Earlier this month I submitted for the 2012 awards, and I can’t wait to find out if we’ll be finalists in any categories this year. (Finalists are announced in the spring, and the winners are announced at the conference in May 2013.)

My copy of "Fading Ads of Birmingham" was the first that author Charles Buchanan and photographer Jonathan Purvis autographed. (Photo by Carrie Beth Buchanan)
My copy of “Fading Ads of Birmingham” was the first that author Charles Buchanan and photographer Jonathan Purvis autographed. (Photo by Carrie Beth Buchanan)

And, OK, I do have some career goals left on the table: Someday I want to see my byline in Esquire and the New York Times Book Review, and I want to write a book, like almost every other writer out there. (Yesterday I saw the fruits of another dream come to life: Charles Buchanan, who I hired in 2010 to write an article about the “ghost signs” in town, has published a book on that subject. The publisher approached him after the Birmingham magazine article. I am ridiculously proud to have made some small contribution to this book.)

However, I’m no longer willing to compromise my personal life to achieve those career goals. For years, work came before everything else. You know you have a problem when you work in a 17-story building that includes multiple law offices, and yet the security guard recognizes you well enough to lecture you about working too much. I love my job, and I work hard. But my work isn’t the primary mark I want to make on this earth.

While discussing this with a friend about a year and a half ago, he asked me a few simple questions: “What neighborhood do you want to live in? What do you want to be known for? What does your life at home look like?”

My answers were equally straightforward. I want to live in Birmingham. I want to be known for caring about people. I want to have a family (whether that’s a husband or a husband and kids–we’ll see). As I said to that friend then, “I’m more concerned with the quality of my work than the details of it. I want to do something that’s meaningful to me. (I’m) more concerned about caring for people than having my name recognized.”

In recent years, I’ve gotten better at maintaining that balance, but I believe I’ll walk that tightrope for the rest of my life.

The 13th #bloglikecrazy prompt was about leaving a legacy. I am slowly but surely working my way through these topics!

An Object of Beauty

This is the truth: In a vacuum, I am comfortable with my appearance. No, strike that. I like how I look. I like that my hair requires next-to-no effort and that it’s crazy and all over the place. I like my face. I like my body. I don’t think any of these things are perfect (in fact, I could tell you more about my imperfections than anyone), but I am strong and I like who I am.

 
But sometimes, I lose sight of the truth. Growing up, I was the butt of many, many jokes. My best childhood friend frequently made fun of appearance. Kids on the middle-school bus would jerk away if my hair brushed their skin (this was before I realized that I had curly hair, so instead I looked like I had a Brillo pad on my head). In high school, the football players made fun of my small chest. (Surprise: That stopped when I made the cheerleading squad.) 
 
I didn’t like my looks until I was in grad school. I don’t know when I first looked and the mirror and thought, “Hey! This is nice!” But boy, was it a nice transition. Appearances aren’t the most important thing, but isn’t life easier when you don’t feel badly about the package in which you’re contained?
 
Somewhere along the line, though, my insecurities about the way I look got skewed in the opposite direction. Over the years, I’ve spent time with people who praised me more for my appearance than for who I am. Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely to be told that you look nice. We all appreciate a compliment, right? But when that’s all you hear, or what you hear the most of, it becomes objectifying. 
 
I am not an object. I am not a pretty tchotchke to perch on a shelf. I’m surrounded by people who value me. Sometimes, though, I need to remind myself about what really makes me who I am.
 
Today’s subject line is a blatant ripoff of the Steve Martin novel “An Object of Beauty,” which I read for the second time last week. Boy, is that man talented.

Take every chance you dare, I’ll still be there

I’ve been gradually but enthusiastically participating in the #bloglikecrazy challenge, administered by my friend Javacia Harris Bowser and embraced by the local women’s writing group she founded, See Jane Write. I’ve loved receiving Javacia’s daily prompts, and it’s been a wonderful way to get writing (for myself) again. But today’s prompt has stumped me.

Javacia asked us to write about inspiration found in mundane moments. I know what she’s talking about–haven’t we all had those simple moments that have resulted in an “a-ha!” insight? But sometimes, it’s hard to view anything as mundane.

One of my best friends is moving this week. We met in college, when I was a senior and he was a freshman, and we’ve lived near each other for the better part of 10 years. I’m a big fan of “When Harry Met Sally,” and I’ll admit that having a best friend who is a man has sometimes been a little different. He’s not my only best friend, but he’s definitely one of the people who understands me best. After more than a decade of friendship, he’s more like family than a friend.

That’s pretty mundane, right? Meeting people and hitting it off is a pretty regular occurrence, especially in college. But every friendship is magical, especially when it stands through time.

So I may be in denial that he’s moving. I’m so excited for him, because I think the job he’s leaving for is a great opportunity, and he’ll be closer to his family. But friends are a treasure, and I’m sorry to see another one move away.

Today’s subject line is from Nickel Creek’s “When You Come Back Down.”

Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?

Step one in becoming a writer: Pick up your pen.

Or your keyboard. Or your smartphone. Whatever. Grab your typewriter if it makes you feel good. Just start writing.

Step two: Write some more.

You know what they say about practice, and while I don’t believe “perfect” writing exists, you’re only going to get better by writing, writing, writing.

Step three: Read good writing.

Yes, it can be overwhelming, humbling, to read a great work. I often think, “Who do I think I am? What do I have to offer compared to this?” and I know I’m not alone in that. But reading good writing can also teach you an awful lot about what good writing is, and that’s essential if you’re going to craft such work yourself. Pay attention. Notice what you like about it, and study how the writer got there. If it’s a journalistic piece, consider the questions the reporter may have asked to uncover those details. Heck, if you think the writer may be accessible, reach out to them and ask what went into the piece.

Step four: Find a good editor.

Even a very good editor needs an editor. This is something of a mantra around my office, and I’ve read too many books and article where a good editor could have elevated a piece from passable to masterful. Find someone who can offer you honest insight into your work, who isn’t afraid to give you constructive criticism that will help you fine tune a story. And pay attention to the changes they make–these will help you learn and improve for the future.

Step five: Repeat.

Today’s title is the first line of the Beatles’ “Paperback Writer.” The 11th #bloglikecrazy prompt was to write a how-to entry. I think my past interns and students could attest that this is advice I offer frequently!

I’d call myself so very lucky just to have some company to share a cup of tea with me

One of the things I’ve most regretted about my time in college is that I didn’t date more while I was there. When else in life do you have a group of people around at all times, with so many opportunities to get to know one another? Don’t get me wrong, I’m quite happily unmarried at 31. I’ve learned a lot about myself in these intervening years, and I’m very happy with my dating life. But in the past, when I’ve started dating new people, I’ve often mourned the lack of context that is typical in post-college life.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons “You’ve Got Mail” has continued to captivate me after all these years. I saw the movie in theaters when it was released in 1998, and I’ve watched it so many times since that it’s one of the few films from which I can quote line after line. Without fail, Kathleen and Joe’s romance grabs hold of my heart.

I’m a sucker for the written word, and I love watching these two fall for each other in large part via email. (In 1998, it didn’t occur to me that they were essentially having an e-affair. I guess that’s the beauty and naivete of the Internet not yet being ubiquitous.) Their words reveal their character, and they gradually come to know and trust each other.

I learned something about online dating from that movie, I suppose, although it wasn’t centered around a dating website. I’ve tried several such sites, and in fact I met my boyfriend through match.com. And just as “You’ve Got Mail” reminds me on every viewing, I’ve learned that you can tell quite a bit about someone from his words. But of course, “real life” context (as Kathleen and Joe get quite a bit of in the movie) sweetens and deepens that sense of understanding.

The 10th #bloglikecrazy prompt was to rewatch a favorite movie and write about a lesson it’s taught you. I didn’t have time to rewatch “You’ve Got Mail” this weekend–there was football on!–but boy, do I love that movie. The subject line is a lyric from “The Puppy Song” by Harry Nilsson, which plays during the film’s title sequence.

Well you know, we all want to change the world

Next year will mark my 10th year of blogging. When I began, it was partly because I had taken a bit of time off of school and I needed something to keep me engaged. This was also just before I began my master’s program in journalism, and if you look back at those early entries, I think my lack of training shows. My blog isn’t a journalistic effort, but my writing is considerably more efficient now.

But now, I write for a living and spend a portion of my work life blogging. So why do I continue to write in this blog?

There have definitely been times that I’ve put my blog on the back burner, in part because I do spend so much of my energy writing elsewhere. I started blogging for fun, and I don’t want this site to become a burden. That’s a grace I offer myself, and the reason why I sometimes let months pass without updating.

So what’s the point? Well, I could argue that it’s to my advantage to keep my name out there. We say that your name is your brand, and there’s truth to that. As a journalist in this increasingly digital world, it’s important that my work be easy to find and that it reflect some knowledge of technology and digital media.

That’s all true enough, and reason enough to keep blogging. But I’m really more interested in this platform because it gives me a space to air out my thoughts and join in conversation with those interested. My journalistic work isn’t about me and my opinions (nor should it be!). My journal doesn’t offer room for interaction (and again, it shouldn’t). This blog doesn’t focus on any specific theme, but it allows me a space in between, a “third place” in my writing. (Yes, I just ripped off Starbucks’ terminology.)

It’s a loosely defined mission, but it’s mine. And in it, I find space to flex my writing muscles, which, after all these years, remains one of my favorite things to do.

The ninth #bloglikecrazy prompt was to write a mission for your blog. The subject line comes from the Beatles’ “Revolution.” If you didn’t already know that, we need to talk.

Just breathe

Yoga pants make for great travel attire. As a result, I’ve spent the past two days in yoga pants, lounging on my parents’ couch and bemoaning the fact that I can’t actually practice yoga right now, doctor’s orders. I had a mole excised from my shoulder on Tuesday, and the dermatologist asked me to avoid lifting heavy things and exercise that would put weight on my shoulder or stretch my back, at least for a week. (By the way, the pathology results came back all clear. No need to worry about me!)

As I entered my 30s, I knew I needed to find some form of exercise that worked for me. I have always been thin, but I have rarely been in shape (save for a few years of cheerleading and dance team). I’m a bookworm, not an athlete.

But I’ve had joint pain since I quit cheerleading more than a decade ago, and I knew that healthier habits would benefit me in the long run. In my mid-20s, my appetite suddenly changed from a desire for the junk food that powered me in college to largely natural, preservative-free foods. (And yes, I counted it a blessing. I used to be incredibly picky. I don’t know what happened.) I knew, though, that any sort of fitness craving was not likely to mysteriously happen on its own.

I had been to yoga a few times in the past, and I generally enjoyed it once I convinced myself to get there. I often felt awkward and didn’t know what to wear, a silly insecurity but one that would help keep me from exercise nonetheless. After I was introduced to Lululemon last summer, that was no longer an issue. As I have moved closer to the heart of the city in recent years, my proximity to classes has also increased. Money was one of the remaining obstacles.

Last December I wished for The Yoga Circle to run an unlimited month Groupon. I reasoned that this would give me time to see how I really felt about yoga, and to so so at a reasonable price. The next day, such a Groupon appeared. I began my unlimited month at the year’s start.

And I was hooked. I tend to worry and plan more than is necessary, and yoga proved a perfect fit for my over-active mind. When I’m focused on breathing and settling into a pose, I’m not thinking about my to-do list or budget. (Well, not usually.) The physical benefits have been a bonus; my joint pain has been greatly reduced, and I’m stronger than ever before.

I bought a 16-class package after that initial unlimited month ran out, and I quickly discovered it wasn’t enough to satiate my craving. It’s been a year since I started practicing on my own, and nearly a year since I became a regular at my studio. Today, my yoga pants remind me how eager I am to return to practice. And in the meantime, I might just sit in class and breathe for a while.

The eighth #bloglikecrazy prompt focused on fitness. Today’s subject line comes from Anna Nalick’s “Breathe.”

Everybody come and play, throw every last care away

I’ve put on nearly 20 pounds in the past year. Now, I’m not complaining about it. I actually feel better about my body than I ever have because I’m more toned and (generally) eating as healthy as I ever have. My new shape has been formed by yoga and, perhaps, my 30s, good and natural things.

But suddenly, my clothes were all wrong.

Well, maybe not all wrong. But some of my dresses were suddenly too tight through the torso, and none of my pants fit my hips and thighs. I’ve even got a few skirts I probably need to toss aside.

As a result, I’ve spent more on clothes this year than probably any other year of my life. And today, I made several more additions to my wardrobe.

I’m at my parents’ house for Thanksgiving, and they’re just a couple of miles from an outlet mall. Mom and I hit a few stores this afternoon, and what I intended as a quick trip to pick up a couple of shirts resulted in three cute T’s, a blouse, a sweater, a dress, a wool skirt and a pair of pants.

Eesh. I don’t even like shopping.

But here’s the catch: I’ve updated my wardrobe at very reasonable prices (today’s haul originally retailed for about $460, and I paid $135) while selecting classic pieces that should be in my closet for years. I’m not much for trends, and this has been the first time I’ve gained significant weight since high school. More importantly, as I’ve matured, I’ve learned how to better dress for my body. The end result is a more confident, more comfortable Carla Jean. And I’m in favor of that, in any shape.

Today’s title comes from “Let’s Go to the Mall” by Robin Sparkles, and this is my seventh #bloglikecrazy post. Today’s prompt focused on fashion.

Why I vote for books

When I started in on e-readers, my girl friends were probably preparing themselves for a lecture about why print will always be better than digital. I’m famously a creature of habit, and already during the weekend we’d discussed how little each of us have changed since college. And there’s some truth to that suspicion; I love print. I love seeing my books gathered throughout my house, each shelf representing different interests and moments in my life. I collect letterpress art in part because I love the literal weight it gives to words. I’ve got a 1920s Underwood typewriter sitting within spitting distance of me, even as I type on this already-outdated Gateway. (I bought this sucker back in ’08, after all. Time moves even more quickly with regard to technology.)

But what my friends probably didn’t expect was a diatribe against Amazon. Yes, I prefer print because I love the heft and beauty of a physical book. There are arguments to be made for e-readers, and if I traveled more often I’d likely embrace them more quickly. But I don’t want a back-lit screen, and even though I like the Amazon Kindle’s e-ink, I’m not willing to support the company’s business practices.

Carrie Rollwagen, who co-owns Church Street Coffee and Books, has written extensively about how Amazon relates to publishing. The Kindle only works with books published through its store, and as I understand it, the company has enough buying power and a strong enough customer base to arm wrestle publishers into selling their product at prices lower than they otherwise would. Yes, it’s awesome to get a discount as a customer, and yes, e-books cost significantly less to produce. But it still takes a writer time to write, and an editor time to edit. These tasks deserve to be compensated, in my opinion, but when a single distributor aims to control the market, I’m not so sure that these people will benefit. (It’s obvious that I’m concerned as a writer, editor and book reviewer. But that also concerns me as a reader. I want great stories, and I want writers to have the time and resources to create those tales.)

So, I told my girl friends, I’m not anti-e-reader. I firmly believe in delivering content to readers in the medium of their choice. Mine happens to be print. And until I find an e-reader that is easy on my eyes without taking advantage of a business I care deeply about, I wouldn’t give e-reading a shot.

Hours later, I walked into Church Street Coffee and was confronted by a Kobo display.

It turns out that the shop has established a mutually beneficial (best as I can tell!) relationship with Kobo, which offers e-ink e-readers while embracing a free market. The Kobo Mini is tiny–it’ll even fit in a small purse–but still readable with easily adjusted font sizes. And it’s affordable; it retails at $79.99, but this Saturday, Church Street will offer the device for $50. It’s easy to buy books through Church Street for the Kobo, and it also has free apps available on other smart phone and tablet platforms.

After learning all of this, I must have looked a bit stunned as I sat down at coffee with one of the aforementioned girl friends. Saturday is American Express’ Small Business Saturday, which means if I spend $25 or more at a local shop, they’ll credit my card $25. “That means I could buy an e-reader for only $25,” I said. “Should I do that?”

My friend insisted that I should, and after I returned to the counter to fill out a pre-order form, I immediately began brainstorming uses for this device. A daily New York Times subscription costs little more than what I currently pay for the Sunday-only print edition. I would love to keep reference books on this device, where they’re both easily accessible and annotatable without taking up inches and inches of space on my shelves. I can think of several magazines, particularly my weekly subscriptions, that don’t necessarily need the glossy pages of print. I’ve got to explore how many of those I can transition to digital so I can cut down on how often I need to drag the recycling bin to the curb.

And as much as anything, I’m excited to use this device to vote with my dollar. I don’t know where the publishing industry is headed, but I believe the content matters, and so do the people selling it. I can’t spend the time researching how every cent I spend affects the local economy or issues I care about. I don’t shop local without fail, and I do keep an eye on how much I’m spending. But I like to put my money where my mouth is. And where my life is; in this case, that’s Birmingham, Ala., and in a book.

The topic for day six of #bloglikecrazy was “Why I vote.” I think many folks are a bit burned out on the 2012 campaign, so I decided to focus instead on why I vote with my dollar. And yes, I’m several days behind because of the aforementioned college roommates visiting. I’d rather spend time with them than adhere strictly to a blogging challenge.

Write me a letter, send it by mail, send it in care of the Birmingham jail

The Birmingham Public Library archives house a wealth of treasures. That isn’t a secret; I first realized that as home-owning friends turned to the archives for historic photos of their homes. For years, the archives’ Jim Baggett and Kelsey Scouten Bates wrote a column for Birmingham magazine–a column that I enjoyed more for its historic value than for the simple fact that I’m employed by the magazine. I love learning about Birmingham’s history, but I’ve always been a bit intimidated to go down to the archives myself.

Until now. I recently became part of the BPL’s young professional board, and our first meeting included a short glimpse of rare books and a presentation from the archives. The library is 126 years old–only 15 years younger than Birmingham itself–and the books, documents and photographs it’s amassed in that time are impressive. The YP members got a glimpse of high school yearbooks from decades ago (I need to go back and see if they’ve got my parents’ yearbooks), and my friend Javacia and I stepped up close and leaned in when viewing an autographed copy of Harper Lee’s “To Kill A Mockingbird.”

Then we moved on to Baggett, who brought out a collection of scrapbooks of former residents. I think we were all enthralled by the stories of Edith Ward, a Birmingham teen who found freedom through her bicycle. She rode her “wheel” all over the city, a controversial act at the time. Preachers would argue that bikes were destroying young women’s morality because the freedom offered meant the women couldn’t be accounted for.

Baggett also showed us a warden’s docket from when Martin Luther King Jr. was booked in the Birmingham jail. Back to back, we got a glimpse of the ways individuals sought freedom–totally different stories, totally different means, totally different types of freedom. But both are part of our city’s history.

The archives contain an estimated 30 million documents and half-a-million photos. Researchers from 35 to 40 states a year turn to the Birmingham collection for research, some of which has shown up in Pulitzer-prize winning books and award-winning films.

My purposes probably won’t result in such grand acclaim, but I’ve got to return to the archives. My family has been in the Birmingham area for generations. There’s so much to learn about our history, both the city’s and my family’s. Part of the library’s role is to “extend the reach of news and information,” as we were told during this meeting. I’m grateful for every visit, which extend the reach of my own.

Today’s subject line is from “Birmingham Jail” by Darby and Talton. Read more about this and other Birmingham songs in Burgin Mathews’ “Thirty Birmingham Songs.” The fifth #bloglikecrazy topic was to write something from notes I’ve taken at an event. I jotted down these notes with the intention of writing this entry, which probably wouldn’t have actually happened without this challenge. I’ve already carried that scrap of paper around for weeks!