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What type are YOU?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I’ve discovered that I have a dangerous tendency when it comes to how I look at men. More often than not, I split them up into three categories.

Yes, you read me correctly. I am admitting guilt in a subconscious attempt to neatly categorize the men with whom I interact.

The first type is the ‘Jason’ category. Jason was my first boyfriend who I began dating after plucking him from the grasp of a then-close friend. (Our relationship was doomed from the start!) Besides the obvious guilt that plagued me, our break up was incited by suffocation. I was teetering at the top of a pedestal he had built for me. Several attempts to leap from this lofty position proved unsuccessful. He continued to smother me with adoration as he wound himself more tightly around my pinky finger. Wearing the proverbial pants in the relationship did not appeal to this girly-girl.

Other boys may find themselves lumped together with boyfriend number two, Brian. Ours was a relationship built solely on physical attraction and a need to stroke our egos. We were young, foolish, and self indulgent. It was the perfect deal until I realized I needed more than an inflated self image. In fact, I had begun to derive my worth from my value in his eyes. This physical fling had to go.

The third category is one more flattering to all contained therein, and a fairly new face in this show. Philip and I never dated, but I have recently realized that I’ve begun to compare guys to him. Reminding me of this fella is a good thing. A former crush of mine, he was (/is) also a good friend and someone for whom I retain respect. We have always had a lot of fun together, whether engaging in a battle of wits or a serious conversation.

There you have it ‘ a confession of my neurosis. I’ll go out on a limb and say that 80% of guys I know remind me of these fellas in one way or another. That’s not to say they can’t break free and make their own mark. (Like I said, until recently I was aware of only two divisions!) But yes, I suppose I do compare to men to those who have been there before them. Frightening.

Should I hold you close, should I push you away?

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

If you haven’t noticed already, let me clue you in: I’m a bit of a music geek. I beam when commended for my CD collection. I burn mixed CDs for every occasion. I troll local music stores for fun. When a tornado warning is in effect, I take my guitar and CD collection to my ‘safe place’ with me. Yeah, I guess I’m a little weird.

Another indicator of my ever increasing geek status: just how often do I write about music? Can’t I talk about something else for a change?

(Yes, you should consider yourself warned. More music inspired ramblings are to follow.)

I am constantly surrounded by music. It’s on in my car, in my bedroom, when I’m sitting around with friends, while I shower, when I cook, while I write. I relate to it, okay? I know I’m not alone in this ‘ most people do.

But you know what I’ve realized lately? So many of the songs out there are about male ‘ female relationships. Think about it ‘ how many songs can you think of in the next minute that aren’t sung from a guy to a girl, or vice versa? (CCM songs don’t count. And y’know, even some of those are about boys and girls.) Ready? Go.

Okay, I came up with two ‘ ‘Reasons Why’ (Nickel Creek) and ‘Just the Two of Us’ (Will Smith). I know there’s more out there, but the point of this exercise was to illustrate the vast imbalance. How many songs did you think of and have to rule out? Yeah, me too.

Y’know, I can relate to these relationship songs in many ways. Though I haven’t dated in ages, I’ve had a few crushes over the past several years. Songs like ‘Complicated’ (Carolyn Dawn Johnson) and ‘New Favorite’ (Alison Krauss) are suited to my situation.

Even the songs that are more specifically about two people who are dating/married/in love I am able to appreciate. I’ve dated before, and God knows I have the desire to fall in love and get married someday. But right now, those two things are far removed from me. I’ve never experienced either of them before, and while they would be welcome, I don’t anticipate doing so in the near future.

I don’t really have a point to this story, a lesson to be learned. I don’t imagine singing a song about my real great blue shirt would have as much impact or popularity as a song about a guy who I’m interested in. Such is the plight of the songwriter, I suppose. But I do have to ask myself: will my views on these songs be altered when I am with someone?

R.I.P. – peace, indeed.

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

So, my grandfather died last night.

To be honest, it’s not even his death that’s on my mind right now. The long car ride to Birmingham with my family is what’s causing me stress.

My mom and sister have been fighting all morning. My sister insists that she’s not going (and is right now crying on the phone about it), and of course, my mother insists that she is. Cheryl says that no one cares how she feels, Mom says that she’s gonna do the right thing.

Maybe I SHOULD just drive my own car.

Two chords and the truth

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

My fingers are feeling a bit sore from pounding away on my guitar strings, so I thought I’d pause for a moment and record some thoughts.

I’m a beginning guitarist. Although I’ve owned mine for almost a year, I have yet to learn even one song. I practice my scales and periodically run through chord progressions, but anything beyond that finds me frustrated with my lack of ability.

I don’t want to learn to play the cheesy songs that are included in my guitar instruction book. I have no motivation to perform ‘Jingle Bells’ or ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm.’ These are not the songs that inspired me to drop a few hundred on a guitar. (Sadly, those that were my motivation are too complex for a novice like me.)

Purchasing a guitar wasn’t something that I approached flippantly, either. Perhaps I’m a bit strange for saying so, but it was certainly a decision that I spent many weeks praying over. Pardon me if I’m over-spiritualizing this, but it’s almost like a calling of sorts. I need to be able to pick up that piece of wood and use it to illustrate what I’m feeling. It’s like an extension of who I am’.

‘.only it’s not ‘ not yet. My progress is slow, but my dreams are many. I will not give up ‘ that’s precisely the reason I invested so much into this endeavor in the first place, so that I wouldn’t abandon it. It seems strange to say that I feel almost sinful when I go days or even weeks without practice ‘ but I do. Playing those scales and practicing those chord progressions is somehow worshipful in my heart.

No, I won’t give up. The scent of guitar strings on my left hand calls me out. I must press on.

She works hard for the money

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

I have so many issues to reconcile before I join the work force full time.

I’ve spent the past month and a half working full time at a job I didn’t really care anything about. Being a receptionist isn’t a bad deal, but it’s just not what I want to do with my life. My passions lie elsewhere.

The forty hours I spent there each week have reminded me of a valuable lesson, though. Part of my calling in this world is to work, and in doing so, I desire to use the gifts I’ve been given. I’ve learned over the past six weeks that most of my waking hours will be spent at work. By the time I got home every night, I only had four or five hours before I hit the hay.

Now, this isn’t so bad right now as a single woman. Someday, though, I’d like to get married and have a family, and ideally, I’d like to be able to devote a bit more time to them than that! I don’t want to live for the weekends – I want every day to be worth my rolling out of bed.

Perhaps I’m an idealist in this area. But my work has got to mean something to me, or else I just don’t think I’ll be able to hack it in the “real world.”

The rest is mine, I guess, the beauty and the mess, to hide

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

Writing is, in many ways, similar to performing. The differences are what stand out immediately, of course. But the commonalities, though subtle, are difficult to ignore.

When I write, you see only as much of me as I’m willing to reveal. Using my words, I can paint a picture for you of the person I want you to see. I give away bits of who I am, but only at my discretion.

The same can be said of daily life, I suppose, but the effect is more extreme when a paper and pen stand between us. You can’t see the pieces of me revealed in how I interact with others, my facial expressions, or the way I carry myself. You might glean some insight into who this girl is, but I wonder how much your understanding would be increased, were we face to face.

Just the same, this is the life I’ve chosen. The black Papermate I hold is my tool for communicating, not only about my desires and dreams, but about what excites me, the things that invoke my passion.

How much of me is revealed through that is an ongoing mystery.

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. šŸ™‚

And then you changeā€¦

Posted on by Carla Jean Whitley

My musical tastes are evolving.

Have you ever experienced this? Upon the recommendation of a friend, or perhaps a brief listen, you select a new CD for yourself. As time goes on, you find yourself listening to this CD more and more frequently. Dissatisfaction in the rest of your collection takes root. Radio becomes all but unbearable. Sometimes slowly, but altogether certainly, this single CD begins to revolutionize your taste in music.

For me, it was Nickel Creek’s self titled release. I clearly recall listening to a couple of tracks in my bedroom after my friend Amanda proudly displayed her new purchase. The next day, I had in my possession the very same disc. There was no looking back.

Caedmon’s Call finally entered my radar shortly thereafter, and within several months, John Mayer had registered on my good music detector. Solo releases of Creek members found their way into my CD collection, and another Nickel Creek album was released and purchased almost as soon as it hit shelves. Fast forward several months more, and my CD collection is expanding at a rate so rapid that it can hardly contain itself.

I’ve tried many times to express how powerful music is, but I simply cannot harness that image with words. To be sure, it makes me think, it challenges me to be true to myself, and it calls me to get out my pen and write. Music is a type of beauty in this world that is so powerful that I find it difficult to compare with much else. My words are futile.

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 šŸ˜‰ ). 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.