Unorthodox: A semi book review

Last week, I finished reading  Deborah Feldman’s memoir, Unorthodox, about her time as a Hasidic Jew in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and how she came to leave the community. I absolutely loved the book. It was extremely brave and reflective. I felt as if any of us could have been Feldman, born into a culture where she didn’t relate or belong.

I was raised in an oppressive Evangelical culture, very similar to what featured in the documentary, Jesus Camp. When I was 10, my parents told me we were leaving the Methodist church I’d loved and been a part of as long as I remembered. It was a sad day for me, I didn’t understand why we were leaving. Nothing had changed. My parents explained that they no longer felt the pastor was “following the Bible” the same as they believed. 

My parents, my little brother and I began attending a church where they felt it was appropriate to tell middle school aged children that if someone puts a machine gun in your face, you have the power because you can tell that person about Christ. And if he shoots you, you’ll go to heaven.

We were told that we were soldiers in a war against the rest of the world. Being taught this at 11 and 12 was detrimental to my mental health. I was convinced every move I made was going to send me to hell. I obsessively prayed for my young, damned soul. I was never, ever convinced that I was “saved.” I repeated the words over and over again and never felt like it went through to God. There was so much chance for error, I didn’t know how anyone was sure he or she was “saved.” I cried in panic at every tent revival my parents took me to. But still, they took me.

Much like Feldman was obsessed with being a “good girl,” I found myself considering my every thought and a action, trying to figure out if I was sinning or influencing others to sin. I was constantly overwhelmed with anxiety over if I was doing enough to tell those around me, in my secular school, to tell people about Christ. 

I sat in lecture after lecture where I was told I was bad if I wore tank tops, shorts, skirts above the knee and the like. It was my job to keep men from temptation by looking at me. We were also taught that drinking and dancing were sinning. While my parents didn’t abide by this rule, I was surrounded by thousands of people who did. 

My upbringing wasn’t as stringent or oppressive as Feldman’s but I related so much. I hope some other little girls feeling alone and anxious will find hope and peace in knowing they are not alone. Her book touched my heart. I hope you read it and let it touch yours.

Feeling Green

photo from here, styling by me

When I got out of the car yesterday and walked across the parking deck towards the elevator, there were hoards of people wearing green. I ,myself, wore green, as one does on St. Patrick’s Day. I didn’t want to get pinched. Because of my previous non-green wearing transgressions and other adult coworkers pinching me, I’ll be be first to pinch you for not wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m pinching you for allll of the pinches I’ve endured. You thought it was just something kids to do each other out of the teachers’ preying eyes, you were dead wrong.

Anyway, I was noticing all of the people wearing green, including myself and thinking how weird it is that this is a thing. In 2015, in the United States, people across the parking deck and throughout the country are decked out in green dresses, shirts, jewelry, hair accessories. I guess it makes sense, everyone in the United States likes to believe he or she is Irish, even if her only connection to Irish-ness is an indentured servant from 200 years ago. But, still. It’s a little much. We all have jobs, I don’t think any of my coworkers got wasted last night and yelled at each other in fake Irish accents (I don’t think they did this because they were all here at 8am not being hung over). This country can barely get organized enough to celebrate any holidays outside of Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July. Somehow, our love of pretending to be Irish brings us all together. We are a weird, crazy nation.

Back in Atlanta

A sign in East Atlanta Village. Taken by bittermelon.

I've been back in Atlanta for a couple of weeks and it feels great! It's a little weird because it kind of feels as if I never left, but I'm not sure where everything is when I'm driving. I forgot how lovely it is to be surrounded by people I love and people who love me. That's one fantastic thing about my neighborhood. Most of my favorite people are just minutes away.

I expected things to be a little challenging when I got back. I tried to prepare emotionally for feeling like nothing had changed when everything had changed. Unfortunately, there is no way to prepare for that. Coming back to a place and to people after being away for a year and a half takes acclimating and that sucks.  I hate being uncomfortable! Every day is a little bit easier. 

I gave myself a break. I did just move across the country, am planning a wedding, started a new job, bought a car and am driving and am no longer in a long distance relationship. Those things might drive even the sanest person a little crazy.

Pictures

We are sooooo funny

Boyfriend asked me to marry him. I'm getting married. I can't believe it, it's insane. And, we got engagement pictures. I said I didn't want them. Each lame set of engagement pictures I've seen I've laughed at with a superior chuckle. Every time a cliche save the date comes in the mail with the couple gazing lovingly into each others' eyes clenched the knowledge that it'd never be me in those photos. Partly because I never thought I'd meet the right guy, but mostly because I knew I'd never, ever get engagement photos.

'Sigh.' We got engagement photos. I don't even know who I am anymore.

Existential crisis, ya'll

We hired the amazing Lauren Wright as our wedding photographer and she insists on them and includes them in the wedding photo package. I didn't want to do it, but–what the hell, you only get married once (I hope) right?

The photography is beautiful and while we look like silly weirdos in many of them, it's so cool to see us together. Boyfriend and I don't have many pictures together, mainly because we don't live in the same city (and iPhones). I love having these! And Lauren is such a talented photographer, just look at that light! We took the pictures in Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta, so that's a little quirky.

So, yeah. We got engagement pictures. In a cemetery. And, don't worry. None of these pictures will be on the Save the Dates. I just couldn't.

Now I just have to convince everyone that A.M. 180 by Grandaddy is a good first song choice.

In Defense of Catey Shaw's 'Brooklyn Girls'

If you haven't seen or heard yet, the above video is a song called, "Brooklyn Girls" by Catey Shaw. I love the song. I think it's great, it's super catchy and Shaw is adorable. Not to mention her smokey voice is beautiful.

In the song, she crones about "Brooklyn Girls," and this has pissed a bunch of people off. I get it, if you're living in Park Slope or Bay Ridge or Flushing, this song isn't talking about you even though you're in Brooklyn. But, as someone from somewhere else who recently moved to North Brooklyn (what Shaw actually means when she claims Brooklyn), this song makes sense.

Where I live in Brooklyn is exactly what Shaw portrays in her music video, except I live in Greenpoint and there is less graffiti and everything is cleaner. But there are just as many people with colored hair (I'm one of them) and tattoos (again me) and weird piercings and skateboarding and all of the other cliques that are shown. Shaw's Brooklyn girl is me, I'm an outsider who came to New York to pursue art and writing, and all that, and found an affordable cool place to live with other people who are a lot like me. Is that so wrong? Everything I thought about living in Brooklyn is what it's like to live in Brooklyn. And everything I thought about living in Brooklyn is in this video. '

Gawker's Jordan Sargent says, "Shaw's worst crime is not making a statement about Brooklyn, it's being corny. She was in essence, pilloried for speaking the wrong language." And I totally agree, but unlike him and many others, I love that it's so corny. This video is a parody of North Brooklyn, but North Brooklyn is a parody of Brooklyn. That's why this song and video are so much fun. And I don't think that "Brooklyn Girls" is an aggressively poppy pop song meant to capture the zeitgeist of the borough" as New York Mag put it. It's just fun. It's meant to be fun. Shaw isn't making a comment on society as a whole, she's just a young 22-year-old trying to make it and have some fun.

So, everyone, chill out. Time.com said it best, "Catey Shaw isn't actually singing about Brooklyn the place. She's singing about Brooklyn the adjective...The whole this about a Brooklyn girl is you don't have to be from Brooklyn." Let's all just get over ourselves a little and stop taking everything so damn seriously. Most of us aren't from here anyway. And we can always, always one more catchy pop song in our lives.

A Weekend in Wisconsin

I spent the weekend with Boyfriend and some of his family in Wisconsin. It was my first time and I assumed I'd spend it looking at cows and playing with farm animals. No such luck. I didn't get to see many animals, but I did get to spend some time in the farm land and small town USA. 

Meeting Boyfriend's family was nice. They were all salt of the earth people. It was nice to take a break from New York and see how things can be simpler and slower. Things are simpler and slower in Atlanta, too, it's not just a Wisconsin thing. Apparently, part of living in New York City is the opportunity to spend time out of it and recharge. Even so, it was great to get back to seeing people everywhere. I can't imagine living somewhere without constantly seeing people. I'm a city girl at heart.

Pawel Althamer at the New Museum

On Sunday, Derp and I went to the New Museum to check out the work of Polish artist Pawel Althamer in his exhibit entitled: TheNeighbors. I saw a sign for the exhibition in one of the L subway stations on Saturday. Althamer’s little diorama drew me in.

I love sculpture and I was excited to see three floors of it. Derp and I started at the top and worked our way down. The topmost floor of the exhibit was a room filled with children (mostly) and other people painting on walls. Althamer’s work examines social interactions and relationships and this is such a cool way to do it. There were paint cans everywhere and people running around with paint brushes painting on every surface imaginable. My favorite image was a little girl who’d made a light brown soup out of several colors and was wiping it all over a folding chair and herself.

Adorkable Derp

The second floor consisted of several statues spaced well apart, (make sure you don’t cross the line, those museum docents are on it). Althamer had help creating these works from some guys he met in Africa. Their group creation is quite original. 

The little dudes below are so cute, I love their whole scene. They are on the subway poster that made me want to see the show.

Many others, but these little dudes are my favorite

 The third floor is a dark room with sculptures everywhere. They have plaster cast faces; apparently Althamer used people in his life and put each person’s name somewhere on the surface.

I was very interested in how the statues worked with each other and with the audience. You have to steer your body carefully around each statue to navigate the room. I love the reasoning behind the pieces, it reminds me of the concepts I'm working with right now in my own work. I’m not using sculpture, I’m using shapes to represent the connection, but the concepts are there. I’m very inspired by this showing.

From Gallerist

If you can make it over there, Althamer’s works will be displayed until April 14, 2014. Get there while you still can! Here’s a link to the New Museum’s site.

Home, but not anymore

Pictures with a portion of loved ones

I went home for Thanksgiving. It was the first time since I moved to New York. All last week, I tried to prepare myself for what to expect emotionally. I've been so lonely here in New York, I hoped I wouldn't get overwhelmed and sad.

Well, I did (get overwhelmed and sad). It was so lovely to see my friends and family and feel so much love. They told me I look great and beautiful, which I needed to hear (as I recently posted).

Thanksgiving Day was great. It was just as overwhelming and anxiety producing as any large family function is, except this time I had something interesting to share. Living in New York is a great conversation starter. Friday, Boyfriend and I had second Thanksgiving with his family and I got to hold his new nephew, Little Bit, for the first time. It was amazing to have such a small baby cuddle up to me.

Saturday was when I started to get sad. I hung out for a few hours with Bestie then we met up with some of my friends at a coffee shop in Atlanta. So many of my ladies came to see me! I was overjoyed to hug and chat with each one. I felt so loved and a part of, which I haven't felt here (New York).

I forget that time takes time. Relationships don't pop up out of no where. But I've been trying sooooo hard. I feel like I should have more meaningful relationships by now. I do have Lady Pants and my new roomies, I'm just so used to being surrounded by love all the time and I miss that about Atlanta.

I cried much of Saturday night and Sunday and the plane ride home. I'm trying, putting one foot in front of the other. It will get better and easier. I hope.

Stranger in a strange town

He also feels lost and doesn't know what to wear

Moving to a new place is so weird. In Atlanta, I knew where I fit. I thought I knew who I was and I assumed that knowledge was going to transfer to New York. How can one suddenly feel as if she doesn't know herself simply because she has a new zip code? But that's exactly what it's been like.

In Atlanta, I had many, many friends. I knew my presence was wanted, and not in a conceited way. I had genuine relationships. My friends knew me and I knew myself through their eyes. I didn't realize I defined myself through others' eyes so strongly.

The thing is, I didn't really know what others were actually seeing, I just thought I did. But it was so real. Here, in all of this strangeness, I can't define myself through others. Through my friends back home, I knew I was crafty and artistic, warm and friendly, trustworthy, fashionable and likable.

I don't get that from the people I meet here (not all of them, just most). I don't think they see me as I think I am. I get the feeling they think I'm a weirdo, possibly just because I'm an outsider right now.

I second guess myself all the time. I feel like I no longer even know how to dress myself. When looking through my closet, it seems as if none of my clothes go together and never should have. Things as simple as dressing myself is now a mystery. What did I used to wear when it was cold? What did I used to wear on Friday nights? Did I go out on Fridays? What did I do?

Boyfriend and Bestie and my family are so far away. I don't know anymore.

Grateful for awesome roomies

{Derp's bread by Derp}

The weekend was wonderful and relaxing. I got all of my boxes unpacked, although there are still things everywhere, at least they are free from their boxes. I had dreams of going out over the last 2 days and being a part of the world, but I chose to stay in and organize my room and hang out with Chico. We enjoyed our new space.

Yesterday, Wonder Woman and Derp (roomies) made homemade bread and homemade soup for us to share. They're amazing. Above is a picture Derp took of her creation (I stole it off her facebook page). We stayed in and watched Hocus Pocus and chatted about life. It was truly lovely compared to the stress of finding an apartment and living in a bad situation that was the last two months. I am so grateful for this unexpected change of pace. Chico is like a different dog, he is so much happier.

Have a great Monday!

Update on my slummy slum slum

Dear Everyone:

Thank you for all of your nice Facebook comments, tweets, emails and texts. And instagrams. You're the best. Big hearts for you all.

The leasing company did, finally, return the calls and emails. At first my landlord tried to act like he didn't know what I was talking about, but when I told him I'd reported him to the city he told me it wasn't his fault, blah blah blah.

So, Chico and I are packing up and moving somewhere new. We can't take it anymore. The leasing company still hasn't come by to check out the damage or do anything to make it right. Either way, Chico and I don't like it in Bushwick and we're just happy to get out. Somewhere with a little more greenery for Chico to run through and pee on (he really needs that. He's been focused on drowning little grass shoots in sidewalk cracks).

Thanks for the love!

BSTW vol 21

This week was difficult. I've been feeling very very homesick.  When I considered moving, I didn't think of being here long term and how that would feel. Which sounds silly, but that is what is happening. My computer is broken again, but I needed some Best Stuff This Week to cheer me. Here it is!

(From top left, clockwise)

This grass ring is amazing! I kind of love it!

A little Instagram photo projector by Projecto!

A blogging friend's, Miss Katrina from Pugly Pixel, baby Chico passed away last week. I  can't imagine if it was my Chico and my wishes are with her. If you follow her blog (or if you don't) send her a sweet note.

Love this Waderlust print from Type Everything.

My computer isn't broken anymore (knock on wood)!

Chico and I are settling in to Brooklyn. My computer has been broken since before I left and I just got it back. Woot!

As I said in my last post, Chico and drove alllll the way up. The drive wasn't what I thought it was going to be like. I imagined me and Chico stopping at every rest stop and running through the grass, celebrating our trek from state to state, many Instagram montages of us running and smiling and high five-ing. I also downloaded three Stephen King books, each over 20 hours long.

Chico and I did not high five once. He was very nervous the day before, even throwing up. He seemed to think I was planning on leaving him in Atlanta. Silly, silly. As soon as I put him in the car and he realized he was coming he passed the eff out. We stopped 2 or 3 times until Richmond. I passed several rest stops, but I was too focused and angry (I hate driving) to stop. Same for the second day.

But we made it! Chico has had a hard time adjusting to being a true city dog. There is very little grass and greenery for him to go to the bathroom on. He is freaked out by all of the loud noises and people everywhere. I try to take him to Prospect Park on Saturdays. It is an amazing vibe there, tons of people and dogs. We met a girl with chihuahuas. She and they are lovely.

Have a great Monday!

Apartment: Found

I'm back after being in New York all week looking for places to live. It's amazing how much easier my search became after I asked for help from friends and family (not to mention allowing people to help me, I don't know why I still have such a hard time with this). I had an outpouring of friends and friends  of friends through Facebook and emails and text messages and phone calls. It was truly amazing. Even after all of this help, I found my place through craigslist. It's a great apartment, although the renting game in NYC is so precarious, I won't believe I actually have the place until I have the key in my hand.

I met up with a long time Twitter friend, Tiffany Rainey for the first real life hang out. She's awesome and accompanied me and directed me along the confusing streets and subway stops in Brooklyn (they're confusing for me, but I don't think they are for natives). I wouldn't have been able to traverse the neighborhood as quickly without her (if at all).

I made some excellent new friends I'm super pumped about and I think they're super pumped about me, too. I am excited to have a network started before I'm officially there. It's hard to leave my ladies and I feel better about it with the start of some new friendships. Chico even has a playdate with a Griffon next week! Woot! (He's not talking to me right now because I was gone all week, he's such a divo)

The adventure is just beginning! I'm going to try to blog about our drive next week, we'll see how that goes.

Country Weekend Girls Extravaganza

Over the weekend, I had the awesome opportunity go out of town to a country house with my Bridge Club for one of our member's 30th birthday! It was great! I love rural Georgia (to visit). The people are so friendly and life seems so peaceful. The stars are super bright and there are cows every where. I absolutely love cows! I don't know why, I just love them.

We had such a lovely time. Mary's (pictured above) mom came out and gave us a proper bridge lesson (we usually trudge through a hand or two then chat and eat and laugh). We also had craft time for a couple of hours and made headbands. Mine is pictured above.

Beading little pearls onto crochet thread is quite a challenge. Expletives were expressed, but it was worth it once the final product was complete.

Love this one, it's so Lana Del Rey. 

Chico had a freakin' blast. He loves to run as fast as possible. Thankfully, he didn't have to wear a leash while we were in the fields. I love seeing him so happy and excited.

We were on the prowl for goats. We found bunnies instead.

My bridge hand sucked big time. 

Alix received an inflatable unicorn horn to match the one for cats given out on Christmas.

It ended up being such a lovely weekend.

Have a great Monday!

Oh, Atlanta!!

I'm doing a project for school about Atlanta and it's reminding me over and over (through my research) of how much I love love love Atlanta (kind of like how Carrie Bradshaw loves NY, we have a relationship, don't insult it or I'll cry) and I've been thinking about this post from 2 years ago. About Atlanta.

Last week, my friend Nilsa wrote a post about the unique culture of her home, Chicago.  I was so entertained while reading it, I have been inspired to write my own about my hometown Atlanta.  The capital of the South.  (That’s right, we capitalize South)

• “Coke” means any carbonated drink that isn’t water or an energy drink.  Even then, and enery drink can occasionally be referred to as Coke.  Pepsi, Sprite, Fanta…whatever, it’s a Coke.  Other places say “soda” (weird) and “pop” (extra weird), but we just want a Coke. (Pepsi doesn't exist) 
• “Bless your heart.”  Seems like someone with a caring concern for you, maybe even a compliment.  Not so, my friends.  This is a back handed compliment (which we have perfected down South).  As in, “Bless her heart, she’s from New York.”
• “Yankee”  Anyone born above the Mason-Dixon Line, and people from Florida (which is NOT the South).  And, down here, it’s not a compliment.  Everyone from Atlanta knows, Yankees are rude, loud and don’t have any manners.  Their mothers’ didn’t teach them right.  “Bless his heart, he’s a Yankee, you know.”
• MARTA.  Our only means of public transportation.  Which is a joke.  Pretty much.  We refer to it as the train that goes no where.  Atlanta isn’t a walkable city and if you aren’t directly at a train station, you’re screwed (if you're riding the bus, clear 4 hours of your schedule and you might get there on time but don't count on it). I’ve included a map so you can see the full awesomeness of MARTA’s line.  The Yankees always call it “The MARTA.”  ‘le sigh’

• That circle around the map is called, “The Perimeter.”  AKA I-285.  It’s a highway that goes all the way around Atlanta so if you don’t want to drive through the city, you don’t have to.  “I live right outside The Perimeter.”
• Which leads to the next item, OTP & ITP.  Inside the Perimeter and Outside in Perimeter.  I live ITP which makes me cooler than everyone who lives OTP.  That’s just how it is.
• Everyone who lives in a 30 miles radius of Atlanta considers him or herself “in Atlanta.”  Those of us who actually live in Atlanta don’t appreciate this.  This 30 mile radius is referred to as “The Metro.”  As in “I live in the Metro, only like, 20 minutes from Buckhead.”
• Buckhead.  How does one describe Buckhead…Buckhead seems to think its self the Rodeo Drive of the Atlanta (as if). If you want to run into famous people, there.  If you want to way over pay for valet and a meal…you got it, Buckhead!  And, if you stay out late enough, you’ll probably see someone get stabbed.  Entertainment for all ages.
• We don’t like Florida.  There are too many Yankees.
• If you say “I’m watching the game” in the Fall, it’s University of Georgia or Georgia Tech.  If it’s summer, it’s the Braves.  We love our Braves.  In general, we don’t care for the fans from out of town.  They don’t have manners like we do.
• Every time the Braves are sucking someone inevitably says, “They won the World Series, ya’ll.”  Almost 20 years ago.
• Almost every street is named “Peachtree” something or other.  It’s pretty confusing.  But we don’t mind.  It’s just the Yankees who get lost (and the people OTP).
• In Atlanta, you must look everyone you pass on the street, ride in an elevator with, open a door for, in the eye and smile/nod and say Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening.  Which--to be honest--creeps me out a bit.  Southern hospitality is great and all, but pan handlers use this as an in.  But it has been coded in our DNA to acknowledge everyone’s presence.
• We buy manners books and read them.  And refer to them when in doubt.  I love that about Atlanta.

Are there fun and/or unique things about your city?