www.reflexbluestocking.org

It is a dazzlingly beautiful day today. The red and gold autumn leaves are reverberating against the blue of the sky in that almost painful way they do when you step from the darkness of a theatre into the light. I suppose part of that is me–I took another step forward today. I took my GRE this morning, and I’m still a little lightheaded and buzzing with adrenalin and caffeine.

There are two gingko trees outside my office building that have been playing games with me. You see, I have a photograph to shoot at the peak of their color (a brilliant yellow), and they utterly refuse to turn. However, I have had the most wonderful time enjoying each shade of green–kelly, lime, chartreuse–it has been a lesson in patience, in enjoying a process. Each day, I’ve picked up a leaf to examine the change in color. Each day, the leaf has been so individual, like a fingerprint. I had never noticed what strength those delicate-looking gingko leaves possessed. Despite their lacy edges and slender stems, they are tiny architectural wonders. I will actually be sorry to see them turn to their final golden color; while I can take my photos, it will mean only about a day before all of those fan-shaped leaves spin to the ground.

Another step forward. I find myself striking out at the air lately, fighting changes when I know that just makes it harder to take that next step. Maybe I’ll just take my cue from the gingko leaf: recognize that I am strong, and the wind is going to blow. I’ll just see where it takes me next.

I’m listening to Beautiful World by Colin Hay, which seems particularly appropriate today.

i feel like i’m about to disappear

From i-Caught

http://ugv.abcnews.go.com/player.aspx?id=681503

NO MORE WAITING

It has been on my mind frequently over the past few weeks. Regret. Even the word itself brings a frown, like “brussel sprouts” or “tax audit.”

re gret: a sense of loss, disappointment, dissatisfaction, etc. The common dictionary definition doesn’t begin to infer the damage we do to ourselves reliving the choices we’ve made, for better or worse, throughout our lives. Interestingly, opinions seem to be mixed on whether regret is detrimental or beneficial to our growth and development as human beings. Jonathan Larson, the composer and writer of Rent, said, “Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.” Wise words from one who barely had time to live himself. Then again, Henry David Thoreau saw regrets as entities to be embraced: ”Make the most of your regrets; never smother your sorrow, but tend and cherish it till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.”

Rita Mero, an ex-wrestler and author, expressed the attitude I agree with most (on paper) regarding regret: “I have no regrets in my life. I think that everything happens to you for a reason. The hard times that you go through build character, making you a much stronger person.” In practice, it’s not always easy to see the bigger picture when you are in the middle of the composition. Even harder is watching someone you care about in pain, struggling with the past.  

I have regrets. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t. I’m working on resolving or at least learning to coexist with most of them. Some are easier than others. Twelve years ago, I got married when I shouldn’t have. Big regrets? Yes. And no. I sit and watch Audrey and Xander, and can’t imagine life without them. (Okay, there are days when I CAN imagine at least a few days without them.) I ended up in Kentucky instead of New York or Palo Alto. Regrets? Well, yeah. However, the Kentucky sunrise is so lovely every morning…and like pulling a screen print gradient, each pull of the squeegee brings a different sky, with a foreground of trees and leaves in silhouette. I have been fortunate to meet some extraordinary people along the path I’ve travelled, however unwillingly or unwittingly, which makes those regrets a little easier to bear.

My final thought on regret: if I believe that God has a plan for my life, should I allow regret to be a part of it? Should I not instead focus on faith, trust that each choice, each change is for a reason? Very difficult for someone who prefers to “lean on my own understanding.” Note to self: be still and know.

Listening to Jason Mraz (Thanks, Ryan)

Down to the wire
I wanted water but I’ll walk through the fire
If this is what it takes to take me even higher
Then I’ll come through like I do
When the world keeps testing me, testing me
-John Mayer, “Vultures”

So, I’ve been under a weight the past few days. God, a boulder. The weight of the world, of my past, present, and future pinning me to the point I could hardly breathe, and not a soul around to share the burden. Alone. Alone. Alone. Lonely.

But, I woke up this morning, and decided that I am not that person. I refuse to be. I’ve never met an obstacle I haven’t been able to overcome, and I’m not starting now. Mahatma Ghandi said, “Nobody can hurt me without my permission.” I’m adopting that as my personal mantra.

As for the alone, well, as long as I’m reaching out, I will not be alone.

Listening to (surprise) John Mayer’s Continuum, because I can’t get Dreaming With A Broken Heart out of my head.

I have no profound reflections to share, no provocative revelations, not even any good jokes. Today has been about moments: this morning, watching the pink, early morning sunlight reflect off of a ‘66 Mustang convertible with the dew just drying on its hood; an expression of surprise, then laughter and a hug from a friend; the warmth of the sun on the nape of my neck as I stepped outside the door at lunch.

I’ve felt more of the world than in it today; watching, but not seen. There is something very freeing about feeling inconspicuous.

I walked through campus at lunch today, immersed in form and color, without distraction. The sky is the intense blue that makes you wish for a grassy field in which to lie and stare in to the faraway (to borrow Georgia’s term) until you find something you know must be there. Only a few, tiny valiant clouds dare traverse that awesome sea of blue. And the greens–every one is out, from palest chartreuse to cool, deep forest, as if to put on one last brilliant display before autumn limits their numbers. The yellow sun is immediately warm on your skin, but a cool breeze polices its heat, preventing any uncomfortable loitering. The light plays in the leaves, wraps itself around the campus buildings, and spotlights the bumblebees busy with the last of the summer flowers.

(I don’t understand sunglasses. Why would anyone wish to miss this? So, I have freckles and when I smile, my eyes do too. Small price to pay for extraordinary colors.)

I’ll be gallery hopping tonight, looking at other moments captured (hopefully). Perhaps I’ll have time to capture a few of my own this weekend.

“The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.” - Ashley Montagu

Listening to once: Music from the Motion Picture (go see it; the music and the story are both passionate and phenomenal)

I’ve been in Las Vegas for the past few days, which has little to do with my topic other than the fact that I’ve been there by myself, sans family or friends, and frequently, alone with my thoughts. What an excellent time to blog! Yes, I thought so too, and even composed several posts in my head while walking through airports, admiring the many colorful personalities on the Las Vegas strip, and lying in bed, completely confused by the three-hour time difference. However, none of them quite made it from initial concept to keyboard to completion.

Instead, I find myself returning to the idea of friendship. I find myself at a stage in my life when building friendships of some permenance seems to be a real goal. And perhaps, letting go of the ones which aren’t really friendships at all, which cause more pain than growth, may be appropriate.

“Friendship isn’t reciprocal” is a phrase I’ve found myself using with friends who feel they owe me for something (not that I’m some great benefactor; I share what I can when I can). And I don’t expect repayment for warm chocolate cookies or a special book that I know someone will enjoy; a card, a funny gift, or something that I know will brighten a day. However, lately I’ve been facing some personal challenges of my own, and I could really use some support in kind. But, I have apparently managed to collect a group of friends who now believe they owe me nothing, including said support. Okay, that was a bit melodramatic. Sorry. Perhaps it is the time change speaking. Perhaps it is too much time in my own head. Maybe it’s just the gray skies outside.

I have not lived up to my moniker the past few days. I have vegged out. Sofa surfed. Allowed my brain to go to mush. The most challenging reading I’ve been able to face is the August issue of Cooking Light. A good magazine, yes, but hardly an intellectual stretch. I haven’t picked up a drawing pencil or even worked on my web freelance work. I could chalk it up to a long week at work, stress from my little ones, or what everyone else here in Kentucky blames basically everything on–allergies; however, I think I’ve just hit a wall. Similar to creative block (a condition with which I am all too familiar) or writer’s block, only more vague and, for some reason, less troubling.

On the upside, I spent a good part of the weekend in this laziness with my kids. The heat and humidity were too unbearable to do anything but head for the pool. I didn’t broaden my horizons this weekend, but (wow, this is sounding unbelievably corny) I added quite a few great snapshots to my memory. Xander discovering how to control the water fountains with his feet, Audrey figuring out how sliding down the water slide on her back made her go faster, both jumping off the side of the pool trying to make the bigger splash.

Okay, so there is something to be said for occasionally thinking less and living more. 

Listening today to Adrian Legg, Guitars and Other Cathedrals. Isn’t that an amazing title?

I’m reading blink by Malcolm Gladwell, which is a hell of a book (if you have not had the opportunity, I highly recommend you pick it up and don’t leave it to gather dust on your nightstand). The gist of blink is that our minds are far more intuitive and able to ‘jump’ to the correct conclusions much more often than they are given credit.  

This begs the question, what about those endless proverbs in direct opposition to this theory? Look before you leap; don’t jump to conclusions; don’t put that in your mouth, you don’t know where it’s been. Okay, maybe not that last one. Still, we are raised to ignore our initial impressions (although, strangely, encouraged to make a good first impression…hmm) in favor of research and fact checking.

According to the book, we can even train ourselves to better recognize these initial impressions and focus in on them, ignoring any extenuating circumstances or random thoughts buzzing about.

As for the “thin slices,” it seems that we need very little time to absorb, interpret, and make decisions about the information that is thrust upon us on a daily basis. Students who are asked to evaluate an instructor on a silent 2-minute videotape will rate that instructor almost identically to students who study with him or her for an entire semester.

So, I’ve been looking through my own experiences for opportunities to check out these ideas. I have always thought of myself as a remarkably bad judge of character, so I must not be paying attention to those initial impressions closely enough.

Today has sucked in general. Not even Norah Jones’s Not To Late has made it bearable.

Tomorrow will be better.

I’ve enjoyed the blogs of friends, acquaintances, mentors and even strangers for years. It’s easy to sit on the sidelines and watch (sometimes in awe, sometimes in amusement) as they explore the various aspects of their lives in text and pictures, uploaded for the online world to pass judgement, respond with reassuring support or demoralizing silence.

And so now I join the ranks, inspired to blog by someone who is currently a continent away and completely unaware, as men tend to be.

A little bit about how my blog’s name came to be (if you are curious): Reflex blue, for those of you who are not print designers, is a deep sapphire blue. It is my favorite color, my birthstone, and oddly enough, the school color for the university by which I’m employed.  

A bluestocking is basically defined as “a woman having literary or intellectual interests,” and though I find myself cleaning out some of the cobwebs of my intellect as of late, I do believe I’m a good fit for the bluestocking crowd. I don’t know that I’d be welcome at the Algonquin Round Table with Dorothy Parker, but I’d be happy to tend bar.

I’ve been married for twelve years to a man who is training to be a physician. Do not tell me I am lucky–I have been through three tries into med school, five years of med school in Memphis ( a lovely place to visit), and am now beginning the fifth year of residency, after which we will continue to pay off a substantial debt for another ten years.

I have two absolutely incredible children. A beautiful, creative, wildly intelligent little girl and a sweet, handsome, smart little boy. They are my best and proudest creations. I never planned to have children, was told that I could not, and yet, here they are. They surprise me every day.

Recently, I discovered that I had forgotten who I was. In the rush to raise my kids, be a wife to a guy who’s never home, have some sort of normalcy in a resident family’s life, do all my shoulds, duties, and musts, I forgot all about that person that I was. The fine artist, bluestocking, music lover all but disappeared under the professional, hostess, mom, wife. And then something weird happened.

A student.

I avoid them most of the time. They tend to leave. But this one kept drawing me out. And I started to do things like see live music again. Listen to my old jazz CDs. Buy some new ones. We didn’t go bankrupt. Pulled out my sketch books. Read books I’d been meaning to read. Took the kids to see jazz in the park. They liked it. The house didn’t fall down.

And now, here I am. Blogging. Who knows where I’ll go from here.

I’m reading Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss (and surely breaking numerous rules)

Listening to Legs to Make Us Longer by Kaki King for Ryan on another continent