Friday, July 31, 2009

The Kind of Blues You Can Tap Your Foot To...

It doesn’t even feel like Friday. After the week that has transpired, it seems like Monday was a lifetime ago; so long ago that I can barely remember it. It’s unfortunate that I’m starting this writing exercise in the midst of the 3rd quarter of the government fiscal year. I have taken a vow, after listening to the story of a fellow blogger, (check her out, she’s just plain awesome) to not discuss work on here, should I be able to contain myself. If I can’t contain myself, I’m finally approaching the end anyway and it won’t matter one way or the other. Point being, this is our wrap your arms around your body and squeeze, close your eyes and tell yourself that you’re ok with the fact that you that your hair is on fire, try your very best to stay focused on the big picture and not unleash the dogs of hell on your co-workers, busy time of year. Its 5:21 a.m. and I should be in the office in 9 minutes.

I’m starting to recognize some of the same cycle elements, here in Salt Lake City that crept in the first year in Nashville. Granted, this is on a much smaller scale, dare I even say, normal. It’s not the collapse on the bathroom floor, cut the cord embrace the darkness bad … I’m pretty sure this is just what they call ‘lonely’ The kind of blues you can still tap your foot to, if you know what I mean. So, this weekend, despite the fact that there are still boxes to be unpacked, pictures to be hung and closets to be organized, I’m going to try and get out and do a few things. The farmer’s market is open on Saturday, I’m joining the gym at the University today, and I have a list of knitting shops that I need to go visit. I’m going to try to hit at least two new ones this weekend.

It’s an odd dynamic right now, I love it here. This place fills me with a stillness and stability that I have never known. Being able to sit here in the mornings with my coffee and watch the sun leak up from behind the mountains, walking through this old house and listening to what 120 years sounds like, walking down the street and feeling a perpetual coolness in the air while taking in this town’s obsession with lavender and wild flowers…. It feels like home. It also feels like I’m standing right on the precipice of life, watching it, holding my breath, waiting for the signal, waiting for it to begin. Once we move, once DHB finishes his board exams, once things calm down at work, once I meet some people… there’s an ever so slight sense of hollowness that comes with watching your life from the third person. It’s something I need to get over. I need to plant lavender and wild flowers and be responsible for their survival. I need to bleed and sweat into these 120 year old floor boards making me a part of, not just the history, but the life of this old house through work and love. One of these mornings instead of sipping coffee on the couch, watching the sun leak up from behind the mountain; I should really drive over there and see what it looks like from the peaks. Now there’s a goal.

Happy Friday, everyone!


Good evening.

Welcome from a new home, both literally and figuratively. Hopefully, this greeting goes out to old friends, new friends, lost friends, found friends and hell, anyone else who is either bored or voyeuristic. (it's ok, I get it, it’s cool... just stay away from my windows.) So with such a diverse group of people, I guess a brief introduction is in order....

I used to blog religiously. Every single morning of my life. I'm passionate about many things, writing, searching, telling stories, connecting and of course... people... to name a very small few. A public journal is sheer perfection for one who admittedly leans towards, at best, compulsive and at less-than-best, addictive. It all started with Myspace. However, Myspace proved to be a little unreliable... as did the audience... as did life. So, long story short, (famous last words.... never believe me when I say that... it usually means a long and excruciatingly detailed story is on the verge of spilling out all over the place) here we are at a new blog host, on a new computer, in a new town, in a new state with the same foundations in passion, quests, and magic, but with a whole new perspective. I’d like to think that it’s not all self serving though. With any luck we’ll have some good conversations, have an epiphany or two and share some laughs.


So, Shades of Gray. In a convoluted way, over the course of a convoluted time in my life, it kind of morphed into my thing. I guess it defines a world view, a philosophy, an insight, and maybe even a morality. You see, I don't believe in absolutes. I believe that life is entirely too grand, in both essence and scale, to be broken down into definitive, bite sized pieces... good and evil, love and hate, passion and apathy, reality and fantasy, and even truth and fiction. Life is complex and in order to truly understand it, you must look for the nuance; you must seek out what lies in between the chasm of absolutes. Everything has both darkness and light... it is the combination of the black and white that makes the whole. This blog will be my view of life through this philosophy, my quest for the whole, if you will.... my interpretation of the the shades of gray. I’m always amazed at how uncomfortable this philosophy makes people, but I’ve come to understand why. Bear with me for a few weeks… like most things I find myself stirring up, it might be awkward, occasionally uncomfortable, and maybe even slightly terrifying at first, but I swear to you, at some point you’ll look around and realize you’re having a blast.


A final few notes on prose and then I will bid you adieu until the morning. I have no business writing with the on this side of the sky.

  • I often write at the absolute crack of dawn sometime between 4 and 5:30 a.m. I write as I'm caffeinating, which is when I find I'm my most candid (sometimes dangerous), clear (it’s amazing how the mind works before the life has had a chance to intrude) and long winded (sorry 'bout that, you can skim, I won't know the difference… though there are occasional quizzes)
  • I am an English Major and fully embrace every single corresponding cliché, down to the three Shakespeare anthologies (you can never have too many) sitting on my desk next to my Riverside Chaucer and antique, Victorian ink well. Despite my desire to be the cliché, I cannot spell worth a damn and generally don't pause for grammar like I should. My inner literary conscience (her initials are Professor S. P.) eats me alive inside, but she's very quiet and very forgiving and she makes incredible brownies so it works out.
  • I have an infamously excessive and prolific repertoire of cuss words but don't think foul language looks pretty on paper, so please insert it often and creatively, should it be omitted. If it happens to appear, I really really mean it.
  • Please feel free to comment! I spend a lot of time by myself... it’s nice to know you're out there ;) The only thing that I ask is that you keep an open mind. Lots of different world views, over all same goal.

So much love...