What happened to Miss Independent?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I have an important announcement to make.

I don’t even want to be a June bride, okay? But around this time each year, I find myself longing for an excuse to snatch up every bridal magazine on the newsstands (Martha Stewart, here I come!) and a man to assure me that no matter which ridiculously expensive white gown I end up wearing for the thirty foot long walk down the aisle, I’ll look ravishing. (Somehow, I doubt he’d really notice that much of a difference between the fifteen or so dresses I’ll inevitably consider.)

But yes, for no rational reason, I’ve found myself dreaming of something that doesn’t seem to be in my near future. (Well, unless you consider being almost 22 years old and realizing that it’s been almost four years since your last boyfriend as sensible cause for these thoughts. In that case, I’m perfectly justified!)

The funny thing is, 90% of the time, I am actually quite content with my singleness. I’d say that’s a pretty decent percentage, seeing as how it’s the gift that no one wants. The idea of balancing a serious boyfriend with a forty hour work week baffles me. I’m so tired when I get home from work that all I want is an hour of Friends and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. I do realize that someday I’ll have to reconcile having a life with working full time ‘ but I’m grateful that the time is not now.

Besides, the freedom afforded by singleness has its perks. I don’t feel guilty for spending my spare money on CDs when my sweet boyfriend is busy doling out his hard earned cash to take me out. I can pick up and drive to the art museum in Birmingham and wander for hours without accommodating someone else’s schedule. A week long trip to Florida isn’t out of the question, and there’s no one left here to cause the dull ache that so often plagues the heart of one separated.

Even so, I did find myself envying Monica and Chandler as they walked into one another’s open arms tonight. Yeah, I did have my fellas (the aforementioned Ben & Jerry) there with me, but it’s not the same.

It’s not so much that I want to be off the market now. But it would be nice to have reason to believe that someday my husband will wrap his arms around me so possessively.

I wouldn’t mind going on a date, either. 🙂

Random thoughts

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I went to the grocery store tonight, and walked out with three items in hand: a pair of pantyhose, a copy of Rolling Stone, and a bottle of wine.

The wine was the cheapest of the three.

…

I have decided that 1989 was the best year of the eighties (though obviously �81 was the most significant for births 😉 ). Seriously.

Come on, can you really beat a year that produced NKOTB, Milli Vanilli, and Debbie Gibson? And that�s just the music! Yeah, I know they�re not the best artists you�ll ever hear, but they sure did provide us with some memories. Let�s not forget Saved by the Bell and The Simpsons. We grew up on these shows!

More importantly, 1989 birthed my favorite movie, When Harry Met Sally. Say Anything merits mention, as well.

…

Most flattering statement of the day: a friend of mine just told me that he gets Alison Krauss & Union Station in his head whenever he talks with me. There are few bands that could provide such a compliment.

If you want my child, you gotta take my kin

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Family is a phenomenon that I don’t quite understand.

Everyone’s family is a bit strange – this is something I’ve been told time and again. I’d definitely say mine is no exception to that rule.

Before I go any further, let me preface this by saying that I love my family very much. I am related to them after all. While that doesn’t necessarily go with the territory, I think it should.

Still, I don’t fully understand the way that my family functions. We’re not terribly close knit – never have been. To be quite honest with you, I don’t understand families that are, though I do hope someday to have a close knit family of my own. But for my family, holidays have always been more of a time that we are forced to hang out together because that’s just what you do, not a time where we are excited about spending quality time with one another.

When I visit my extended family in Birmingham, I can’t help but think to myself, “I’m not so sure they even like me. Love me, probably. But like me? I don’t know about that.” We just don’t have that much to talk about. My sister is the bubbly, outgoing, entertaining one. I sit on the sidelines and observe. I don’t really know them, and they don’t really know me. I don’t know how to change that. Sometimes, I’m not even sure if I want to put the effort into it being any other way.

All of this concerns me. I don’t want these patterns to carry over into the family that I will someday co-lead with my husband. I want to have a good relationship with my in-laws, as well as see my husband interacting with my parents and siblings comfortably. I love my family, despite of their many quirks. (Hey, we all have them, right?) It’s important to me that the man I someday marry love them, as well. I pray, though, that the family the two of us will create together will still be altogether different than the one from which I originate.

As good as I was to you, is this the thanks I get?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

From where I lay on my bed, I can count ten volumes containing my thoughts over the years. I know that, just out of my line of vision, a spiral bound notebook holds page after page of poetry and prose. Just opposite the foot of my bed sits a box that contains, among other things, every published word I’ve ever written. Both yearbook and newspaper articles abound.

I am literally surrounded by thousands ‘ perhaps millions ‘ of words in this room. Those that have flowed from my own pen are kept in good company with the likes of CS Lewis, Sean Watkins, Patty Griffin, Francine Rivers, and Derek Webb, among others. The books and songs that have influenced my life cover my walls, inhabit my CD player, and find their liner notes strewn about the room.

As I wrote a letter last week (another outpouring of my daily word count), I looked about this room and began to wonder: what will come of my words when I am gone?

They are at home now among some of the great authors (and some veritable, albeit respected, unknowns) of the past century. Someday, though, I’ll pass from this world, leaving these volumes (and likely countless others yet to be written) to some unfortunate relative who will then be responsible for determining their fate. What will become of these pieces of my heart?

Unlikely though it may seem, I actually do pick up my old journals and pour over the pages on occasion. While in a particularly pensive mood, I may select a volume from several years past and turn to the present day’s date in that chapter of my life. Sometimes I discover that what I wrote then is still a struggle today; others, I look back and smile at the victories of life.

But what value do these words hold for anyone else? When I’m dead, will anyone treasure these books as I have? Will the time spent creating my high school yearbook be significant to someone else? Will all of these words serve as a memorial to the life of their author ‘ or will they be better suited to decomposition in a landfill far away?

Chillin’ out, relaxin’, maxin’ all cool

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

On the whole, this has truly been an unremarkable week. I have done nothing that is really worth sharing. You could even argue that this week has been a waste of time. For the most part, I think I would agree.

Oh, but not tonight. Although my time has been spent lounging about my apartment, it has been time well spent.

Sometimes alone time is the most appealing option. (I’m fortunate that this has been the case tonight, as I didn’t have many other choices!) Indeed, I don’t know that I would’ve enjoyed the past six hours so well had they been spent doing anything but exploring the additions to my CD collection, reorganizing said collection, slowly turning the pages of my current novel, renovating my home on the internet, and jotting a few wayward thoughts down into my journal.

I’m so glad that I am my own friend. As such, a candle lit evening of solitude is delectable indeed.

I need honor and love in my life from somebody who’s playing for keeps

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Why is that libraries, though similar in purpose to bookstores, don’t possess the same romantic qualities?

Perhaps because of the lack of commitment required of a library book? Here, I walk in, pick up whatever strikes me as interesting, check it out, and that’s that. No money required, little thought is demanded, and if I don’t like it, I can just drop it off in the return bin tomorrow.

Bookstores, however, are quite different. Rarely am I able to pick a book off a shelf and leave within five minutes. No, bookstores demand a greater commitment. If I am going to spend an ungodly amount of money on a stack of bound paper, then I want to be sure that it’s worth my while. I’ll carefully read the back, perhaps look over the table of contents, maybe glance through the pages. I’ll carry the book around the store with me for a while as I look over the other options. Is this really the book that I want? Will I be proud to have it displayed on my shelf for years to come? Will I regret the time and money invested in it later?

Am I still talking about books? Or is this post really about men?

You be the judge.

Good coffee, strong coffee

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’ve been a coffee drinker for only two years now, but in the time since developing a fondness for this beverage, I’ve made an important discovery. It isn’t so much the coffee itself that is important. While the caffeine and the flavors mixed with it are delightful, my real joy comes from the coffee shop itself.

Whether I’m sitting in Starbucks in Philadelphia, perusing my Bible alongside a Carmel Machiatto and several friends, or studying ADHD in Tallahassee’s own Aristotle’s, there’s something about the atmosphere in these establishments that is almost romantic. Coffee shops share that mysterious romance that bookstores possess. It is not necessarily one of roses and kisses, but the warm fuzzy feeling that arises is one to be treasured indeed.

In fact, the primary reason I find myself in coffee shops is seldom the coffee. I come here to enjoy conversation with friends, or to curl up on the couch in the sun to read my Bible and pray. The coffee is often an afterthought ‘ the price of admission to enjoy the comfortable atmosphere.

As I write this, I am sitting in my newly discovered favorite coffee shop in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I knew that The Crimson Caf’ bore marks of a home for my heart upon my first visit. Being as intrigued by interior design as I am, the atmosphere of a space is important to me. Thus, I smiled as I spotted the worn hardwood floors that welcomed me. The plaster covered walls add texture to the shop, and the patches of brick peeking out from this fa’ade contribute character. The stone waterfall fountain in the corner invites my imagination to wander to places I’ve been. Oak Mountain and streams in North Carolina are welcome vacations for my often weary mind.

The burlap coffee sacks hanging from the walls and ceiling evoke thoughts of places far away as well ‘ specifically Javaheads in Tallahassee, Florida. I smile as I recall many treasured moments spent within the walls of that now distant coffee haven. Good times with good friends seem inevitable in such an establishment. Needless to say, I could spend hours here, daydreaming about many happy days gone by.

But naturally, The Crimson Caf’ invites many new memories to be formed. The well stocked shelf on the wall holds a variety of board games, just waiting for me to take them down and enjoy the camaraderie they create. My first visit here left me acquainted with the shop’s copy of Trivial Pursuit. We didn’t get far in the game that night, but somehow board games invite friendship quite naturally. The rabbit trails of conversation that we chased left us more familiar with one another, and a new memory to be held.

The furnishings are simple and serve not to detract from the atmosphere, but instead play a supporting role. The couches in the corner invite many a comfortable conversation, and the solid wooden tables and chairs throughout provide space for study groups and board games alike. The big screen TV on the stage like area provides customers with the latest news or the biggest sports event ‘ whichever might currently be of greater interest. (This is, after all, a football town.) I wonder if locals might set up on that stage and provide my ears with some joyful strains of music some night?

On a gorgeous day like this lazy Sunday, light streams in through the large plate glass windows. The room is filled, from floor to the exposed beam ceiling, with light and, for me, happiness. I may be new in town, but I know already that this place is clearly to be cherished.