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Bright lights, big city

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Three good things about City Stages:
1. Most downtown offices closed early today because of the mayhem surrounding their buildings.
2. I got a weekend pass for free.
3. My parking garage is NOT on one of the closed streets.

So it’s the opening night of the city’s biggest music festival, but I’m heading off to a coffee shop to watch some friends of a friend of a friend play music. I might put in an appearance at City Stages later. And just in case, I am so prepared.

I have my map and schedule both reprinted from the newspaper PDFs so I can neatly fold them in my purse… I’ve marked both the stages I care about, my work building and my parking garage… and the schedule is highlighted with horizontal marks on the bands I know I want to see and vertical on those I might want to see.

Let’s rock and roll. (Or, um, bluegrass and… roll.)

ETA: Did you know the digital sign downtown was spelling Ludacris as Ludicrous, at least all day yesterday?

Let me out

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

April 19

As he leaves the table, I turn back to my bag of books, making selections and piling them in stacks on the table in front of me. I choose an album and turn up the volume until I’m surrounded by piano, guitars, vocals. It’s so loud that I notice things for the first time, even though I’ve owned the CD for months.

Several minutes pass before I realize I’m sitting in a fortress of my own making. I’m surrounded by words and sounds I find comforting. I’m in a place where I feel safe. He’s on the outside. As he should be.

Sometimes we forget who we got
who they are or who they are not
–amos lee

There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don’t know how

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

On an ordinary day, I’m the friendliest person on the city streets. I smile at everyone and frequently say hello, even to people who scare me a little bit. (Perhaps especially to people who scare me.)

But some days I prefer isolation. Today is one of those days.

You never really know what’s going on inside someone. I feel like I’m shaking, though not visibly, from my hands to my intestines. After a quick lunch in the break room, I turned on my iPod and left for a walk through downtown. With Ryan Adams surrounding me aurally, I somehow feel it’s acceptable to stare at the ground instead of at the city moving around me.

I walked through the park, past the art museum and back to the library, where I feel safe in my anonymity. I don’t need any more books—Lord knows my to read list is long enough already, and I actually have a day-past-due book laying on my car’s passenger seat right now. But whether I’m sitting at this table with a yellow legal pad and pen or I’m hiding among the books, inhaling scents from their borrowed homes, here I can be ignored.

Sometimes, that’s exactly what I want.

Standing on a darkened stage

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Reasons why I’m not blogging much lately:
1. Unwanted company
2. Honestly, I’d rather sit with you and pour my heart out than do it on the Internet. And so I have been.
3. A lot of what I’ve wanted to say has been really passive-aggressive and directed toward specific people. I’m trying to avoid that.
4. I’m trying to take the time to sort out my thoughts on my own. Or at the very least, without an audience.
5. I’ve been a little bit busy (living out numbers two through four, actually).
6. I’m in a cynical mood here lately, and I don’t know that it would do me much good to walk through it online.

I’ll be back, I’m sure. Maybe sooner than later.

There’s nothing you can do or say

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

2007 is going to be different. I know that’s easy to say, but that’s what I’ve decided. It’s going to be different. It needs to be different.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately (but today in particular) about how what you think you want isn’t always what you want – or even what you think it is. It’s easy to say that out loud. (Or, OK, it’s not. But it’s possible.) But it’s a lot harder to accept it and move on.

That’s where we’re at. And I do mean we. It’s not easy, it’s not what you want to hear. But it’s right. And it’s best. And we’re in this together.

Say goodbye to the lines that we’ve colored in

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I think sometimes that my heart is something I carry around on pieces of paper instead of in my body and soul.

Scraps I’ve found today:

“I feel like a vase that’s been shattered on the floor – not one of those made out of thick, cut glass, but something finer and more delicate that splinters into shards so thin that you pick them up with your bare feet for days afterward.”

“I just want to skip the part where it’s work – where it’s high heels and strapless bras. (OK, but I’m a little … high maintenance. That part is my life.) I want sweat pants and doing nothing and Sunday afternoons.
But I bet when I get there, I’ll find myself nostalgic for flirtation and first dates.
Or … for someone with whom I can have both.”

–written … sometime in November

The dreams that you dare to dream really do come true

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I was waving my shaker in time with the cheers and music, but yesterday my mind wandered from football to depth in friendships. I stood watching the most important game of the year (to me) but I was thinking of how there’s something more.

Two days ago I had one of those lunches that you leave feeling rejuvenated. A friend and I caught up on the latest in each other’s lives, which is important, and we talked about football, which is important to me. But we also talked about faith and feminism and struggles and how we don’t have everything figured out.

I left feeling that more than just my physical hunger had been met.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my relationships with other people. My very closest friends live miles away, and my friendships in town don’t yet go as deep. That means it’s easy to let things that matter go unnoticed or undiscussed, whether it’s a matter of faith or my own insecurities (or more likely, both).

But I’m feeling more optimistic than I have in a while, about relationships, football and life in general. It’s been years since I’ve stayed in one place longer than 12 months, but I think I’m there now. That eliminates a major barrier to being real, to allowing myself to feel comfortable. (I’m slow to commit, but once I do, I’m sold. That’s true for shoes and people.)

On this lazy Sunday morning, I feel good about life.

–Nov. 19, 2006, 10:40 a.m.

On a pillow of blue bonnets and a blanket made of stars

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Take me out on a Friday night. I’ll give my hair an extra 30 seconds of attention and wear a little more eye make-up. We’ll sparkle, shine and socialize.

Then we’ll spend Saturday on the couch, you in a ball cap and me in a ponytail, screaming at the TV. We’ll eat pizza and drink beer, and at the day’s end rattle off the day’s results and their significance.

I’m your typical girl-next-door, that’s all. I’m not the most driven, but I am the most loyal. I have faith but must stand on grace to survive.

I need my down time. I have to be alone, even if only to scribble non-sensical words. (It’s a life line.) I need girls’ nights out – or in – with discussion of our new outfits or new boys mingled with the things that really matter.

I am just me – nothing more or less, although I may try.