A few days ago I posted a few paragraphs about being a jack of all trades and master of none. When I read it the next day it was a little embarrassing sounding and I deleted it. Re-reading about my attempts to find my talents started to sound like whining and was even annoying to me. Anyway, I've come back to the subject because it has been nagging at me and a couple of things happened this week that have given me new insight. Maybe being a jack of all trades and master of none can be a good thing. I don't have to be known for expertise or being special in any specific field. Being average at a variety of things is is right for many of us.
This past week-end I drove to Chattanooga with two of my friends to spend a couple of days enjoying the sights. We rented a house 10 minutes from downtown and got a chance to take a look around. What a lovely little city! The small art museum was very enjoyable and offered free admission on Sunday. We walked across the pedestrian bridge connecting the art district with some funky little shops on Frazier including All Things Groovy and a little shop that sells really fun primitive art. Unfortunately, I forgot to grab a card with the name, but it is easy to find. We drank wine at Terra Nostra and my friends bought some great shoes at Riversports Outlet. The street offered everything from Kayaks to Moon Pies and RC Cola. There was much more that we would like to see and do which will definitely warrant at least one or two more visits.
Dinner one night was at a Mexican restaurant on Broad where the entertainment included a guy throwing CDs into a player and strumming along with this guitar. What a variety of music he included in his CD repertoire - from Hank Williams to the Eagles singing "Witchy Woman." Later locals got up and sang Karaoke. We, being outsiders, really had to make an effort to get in to the spirit of the evening, but after a few sips of a margarita, it was all fun. However, it couldn't compete with Starbucks the next morning located atop Lookout Mountain. It was housed in a stone building that blended with the landscape and boasted an outdoor fireplace. It was slightly chilly and sipping coffee by the fire made the day.
Okay, what does this all have to do with my topic, On Being Average? Well, you see, it is almost impossible for three women to spend a week-end together without getting in to at least one slightly deep discussion. How did the artists in the primitive store begin creating and what makes their work art? What would it be like to own a business like "All Things Groovy"? How does one decide one has talent and/or the guts to say I've got what it takes to venture in to new horizons? What talents do we have and what talents would we like to grow?
I think about the guy who played the guitar at the Mexican restaurant. We kind of snickered at his performance, yet he was so happy to be up there and seemed to be quite pleased with his showmanship. Then there were a couple of men singing Karaoke that were really pretty good. They were just average guys who had the nerve to get up and enjoy themselves, not worrying what others were thinking.
It all comes together in my mind. Chattanooga may not have shops and restaurants like New York or Chicago, but it sure made for a great visit. The primitive art of the artists on Frazier Ave. was definitely worth viewing although it will probably never make it in to the museum across the river. And finally, there was the guitar player whose back-up band was virtual and the guy whose deep voice made us swoon a little before he stepped off stage, paid for his food, and went home with his wife and daughter. All were average by normal standards, but offered enjoyment to those around them.
So here I sit, just an average woman. But, I am beginning to realize that average can also mean well-rounded. If I enjoy doing something, what does it matter if I do not master it or if I am not the best? What I do or create is mine to own. What a freedom to allow myself to quit gauging, measuring, over-thinking and being afraid. I AM an artist, a writer, a musician, a designer, an explorer, an entrepreneur. And, if you don't agree, that's okay.
Lovey
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Love Story
I traveled to Atlanta last week. I can't believe I am 50 years old and this is the first time I ever drove in a car for a 4 hour trip alone. I loved it!! Don't get me wrong. My husband is a good traveling companion and I like going on trips with friends, but this time the car was all mine, including the CD player.
The day before I had to leave I went to the public library and checked out a book on CD. Since I finished school I almost hate picking up a book and reading it. My eyes don't hold up well and listening is very relaxing. Anyway, I checked out a copy of "The Olive Farm," not knowing anything about the author or if I would really want to read/listen to a story subtitled "a love story." Love stories, detective novels, and science fiction just don't grab my attention. Hand me a book on different cultures, history, or a biography and I'll devour it. One thing that seems to be different about me in respect to others who love books - I can't remember an author's name to save my soul. If someone asked me who my favorite author is, I'd have to just throw out something like, Mark Twain. Who can forget him? It can be downright embarrassing to have such a problem remembering names, but the only explanation I can come up with is that I must not care much about who sat down to write. I just care about what they write.
Back to "The Olive Farm." The book is very enjoyable and the love story seems to be dual in that the main character is not only in love with her male companion, she is also in love with the farm and the life being created on the farm. Though I have never been interested in horticulture, thinking about growing those little olives and then pressing them in to oil is starting to get to me. I want an olive farm in the south of France. I want to eat bread, cheese, olives, and drink wine twice a day. I want to look out over the Mediterranean Sea from an old villa that is barely standing. And most of all, I'd like to live somewhere with enough privacy to swim alone naked in the pool. What freedom. But, as the saying goes, freedom comes with a price. The couple must take huge chances to make a purchase they cannot afford. They choose not to listen to others who say the whole thing is a mistake. They go with their gut feelings.
I'm on disc 10. It is the final disc of the book and I'm not sure how it will end. Will they lose everything? It seems to be heading that way. No matter, they lived their dream and their love story for a time.
Lovey
The day before I had to leave I went to the public library and checked out a book on CD. Since I finished school I almost hate picking up a book and reading it. My eyes don't hold up well and listening is very relaxing. Anyway, I checked out a copy of "The Olive Farm," not knowing anything about the author or if I would really want to read/listen to a story subtitled "a love story." Love stories, detective novels, and science fiction just don't grab my attention. Hand me a book on different cultures, history, or a biography and I'll devour it. One thing that seems to be different about me in respect to others who love books - I can't remember an author's name to save my soul. If someone asked me who my favorite author is, I'd have to just throw out something like, Mark Twain. Who can forget him? It can be downright embarrassing to have such a problem remembering names, but the only explanation I can come up with is that I must not care much about who sat down to write. I just care about what they write.
Back to "The Olive Farm." The book is very enjoyable and the love story seems to be dual in that the main character is not only in love with her male companion, she is also in love with the farm and the life being created on the farm. Though I have never been interested in horticulture, thinking about growing those little olives and then pressing them in to oil is starting to get to me. I want an olive farm in the south of France. I want to eat bread, cheese, olives, and drink wine twice a day. I want to look out over the Mediterranean Sea from an old villa that is barely standing. And most of all, I'd like to live somewhere with enough privacy to swim alone naked in the pool. What freedom. But, as the saying goes, freedom comes with a price. The couple must take huge chances to make a purchase they cannot afford. They choose not to listen to others who say the whole thing is a mistake. They go with their gut feelings.
I'm on disc 10. It is the final disc of the book and I'm not sure how it will end. Will they lose everything? It seems to be heading that way. No matter, they lived their dream and their love story for a time.
Lovey
Sunday, January 20, 2008
My First Time
Its my first time to ever go on line and post anything. On daily basis as part of my work at a publishing company I encourage others to blog and be open about introducing themselves to the www. Well, for some reason it isn't as simple as it sounds. Even saying hello is a little intimidating for me.
I guess I'll just go with it and begin. Lovey is my grandmother name. I didn't want to be Nana, or Grand-ma, or MeMe. No offense to all of the wonderful ladies who are known to their grandchildren by those names, but when the movie The YaYa Sisterhood came out, I decided that as I got older it might be fun to be a little different once in a while. I've been a conformist all my life and it really gets tiresome trying to do what is acceptable all of the time. Anyway, my name came to be when I was playing golf with my husband and friends (one of the 5 times I haved played in my life) and one yelled "Tee Off Lovey," She was kidding me about being like the rich lady on old TV show Gilligian's Island. Anyway, I kind of liked it and decided that was what I was going with when I became a grandmother.
A little more info... I turned 50 this year, graduated from college, got a new position at work, and have nearly felt like collapsing. I gained weight during the last 3 years as I came home from work every night to sit back down to yet another computer and study. Continuing to sit around at home is very appealing now so I am having to force myself to try to do a little exercise and not eat as much. I have a lot of dreams and ideas. However, the confidence level is low so I thought writing down my feelings would be a way to work through what is important to me and where I might discover my passions. Yes, I know everyone is doing that. Again, I'm a conformist and probably just moving with the pack.
Why am I writing this for the public to see instead of just keeping it to myself? Well, last night I was watching the TV program "How to Look Good Naked." I know that these type of reality shows are fairly staged, but the idea of getting on TV in nothing but panties and bra with the normal lumps, bumps, and inadequacies looks so freeing, I decided today that by writing about my lumps, bumps, and inadequacies I might be freed of some of my fears. If you can identify, keep reading. I'll be back.
Lovey
I guess I'll just go with it and begin. Lovey is my grandmother name. I didn't want to be Nana, or Grand-ma, or MeMe. No offense to all of the wonderful ladies who are known to their grandchildren by those names, but when the movie The YaYa Sisterhood came out, I decided that as I got older it might be fun to be a little different once in a while. I've been a conformist all my life and it really gets tiresome trying to do what is acceptable all of the time. Anyway, my name came to be when I was playing golf with my husband and friends (one of the 5 times I haved played in my life) and one yelled "Tee Off Lovey," She was kidding me about being like the rich lady on old TV show Gilligian's Island. Anyway, I kind of liked it and decided that was what I was going with when I became a grandmother.
A little more info... I turned 50 this year, graduated from college, got a new position at work, and have nearly felt like collapsing. I gained weight during the last 3 years as I came home from work every night to sit back down to yet another computer and study. Continuing to sit around at home is very appealing now so I am having to force myself to try to do a little exercise and not eat as much. I have a lot of dreams and ideas. However, the confidence level is low so I thought writing down my feelings would be a way to work through what is important to me and where I might discover my passions. Yes, I know everyone is doing that. Again, I'm a conformist and probably just moving with the pack.
Why am I writing this for the public to see instead of just keeping it to myself? Well, last night I was watching the TV program "How to Look Good Naked." I know that these type of reality shows are fairly staged, but the idea of getting on TV in nothing but panties and bra with the normal lumps, bumps, and inadequacies looks so freeing, I decided today that by writing about my lumps, bumps, and inadequacies I might be freed of some of my fears. If you can identify, keep reading. I'll be back.
Lovey
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