Rejection is Not for Weenies

At the beginning of December, I sent a query letter to a popular magazine about an article I wanted to write for them. In my fine and most humble opinion, it was a good query letter and an even better article! (Picture tongue in cheek smile.) Still, being my first such attempt, I knew it was a long shot but was excited that I actually tried. That was, in fact, the hardest part—facing down my fear of rejection, quelling the negative self-talk, loosening the death grip on my heart, shooing away the butterflies in my stomach, and pressing the “send”button on my e-mail. But I did it and I was proud. I gave birth and released my progeny into the world for acceptance and approval.  

Yesterday, my progeny came back stamped “thanks, but no thanks”. Yep, I got my first rejection letter, or I should say, e-mail. For someone who’s always broken out in a rash at just the thought of rejection, I handled my “Dear John” letter surprisingly well. In fact, I smiled. And today, I celebrate it! Lest you think I’ve gone off the deep end so early in my career, let me explain.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer—published, paid, and happy doing what I enjoy. But I viewed writing like a distant land that I hoped to visit one day when the time was right or I had enough money or I believed in myself enough. Then one day I realized that I don’t have to actually be published to be a writer. I write, therefore I am…a writer. What a revelation! So, when I lost my job in July, I saw it as my opportunity to take the writing bull by the inkhorn and set out to give my craft a serious go.  

Turns out, there is a lot to the business of writing. I’m slowly navigating my way around and finding new ways to express myself and get my writing noticed while seeking job opportunities and trying to write my first novel. Each step I take makes me feel more and more authentically a writer. So, what of yesterday’s rejection? That sealed the deal, baby! I AM A WRITER!!! Woo-hoo!!

I mean, do you know how many published writers have faced how many rejections? I am sure the numbers are staggering! Still they pressed on rejection after rejection. It’s a given that I too will face repeated rejections. And now that I have my first, I feel I am really on my way! How many more to go? I don’t know. I just know that I’m on the path I want to be on and I’m not a weenie about rejection anymore! Bring it on publishing world! I can take it. Because I know, one day, it will be my turn!

Appreciating the Little Things - October 2011

A couple of months ago I was walking my dog, Kenzie, around a local track. I couldn’t help but notice many of the almost unnoticeable, yet beautiful, facets of Jehovah God’s creation. I wondered how many people walk that track each day and fail to see what I saw that morning. Here are some of the pictures I took.

How to Smell Like a Rose When Your Life's in the Toilet

My descent into the great white porcelain abyss began long ago. The Cliff Notes version, leaving childhood traumas and dramas aside, is that I started working for an insurance company two months out of high school. Not having a better plan for my future, the entry level job seemed like a good idea—large stable company, better than minimum wage pay, desk of my own, working in my small town’s downtown, parking in a two level garage. Everything was new and grown-up and so very…practical. My post-Depression era folks couldn’t have been prouder or felt more secure for me.


The only hiccup is that within six months I knew that I didn’t want to do that kind of work for the rest of my life. Not just in the insurance industry but in the business world in general. This shouldn’t have been a revelation. I didn’t want to take any of the high school business classes (typing, accounting, computers, etc.) that my mother encouraged, no matter how useful. My vision of my future was looser, less restrictive, and completely undefined. I didn’t know what I had a talent for and had no self-confidence to pursue any of my interests (writing, photography, art, teaching, traveling). Thus I chose the road worn and packed by the footsteps of so many others that I actually mistook it for the right path. Yeah, I took the business classes.


So post-grad (high school, that is) and master of my fate, I was at the same crossroads after only six months of employment at my fancy-smancy new job. I knew what I didn’t want but knew precious little else. And what did I do with my newly re-found self-awareness? I folded it, crease by crease, into a tiny origami prison and put it in the back of my desk drawer behind the seemingly never empty box of 5,000 count staples.


Over the years, my dreamer self was effectively bound and gagged each and every time it broke free and opened its’ mouth to speak. “Practicality” and “Duty” are hard task masters so, like a train moving ever closer to its’ destination, I made each predictable stop achieving new positions and acquiring new responsibilities as I went. I realized repeatedly that even though I did good work and was getting promoted, I was clearly on the wrong train. I quit the company I started with out of high school, went to another insurance company, went back to the first company, quit again, then went to a different insurance company. Incredibly, twenty-four soul sapping years later I was still working for the insurance industry, desperately wanting to punch the time clock on that career but not having the courage or a clue of how to do it. Almost daily a line from Langston Hughes droned oppressively on my bones like a tuneless mantra devoid of hope. Or maybe it was more like a truthful and enlightening question that is just too painful to answer.

What happens to a dream deferred?

What happens to a dream deferred?

What happens to a dream deferred?!

My hopes and fears came true on July 13^th of this year. I finally left the job I hated! Okay,I was let go. But still I was free. And incredible as it may sound in this economy, I was happy. I had the decision I refused to make decided for me. Cowardly I know, but the desired result was achieved nonetheless.

Please note, there are those who felt the circumstances surrounding my termination were unfair due to a recently changed company policy with no grandfather clause. I’ve heard the policy change is now being reviewed by the company. Some felt I should fight the decision. They thought I should call the company’s HR Department or Ethics hotline, or call some governmental agency like “the wage and works people”, whoever they are. Part of me agreed. In my mind, I started forming my arguments and plan of attack to make sure justice would prevail. I kept important e-mails and documents. I worked up a healthy dose of righteous indignation and then considered the toll it would take on me to stay battle ready. My stomach could have churned butter at just the thought of it. If I fought the decision and won, what would I get? A stressful job that I hated back? I would ultimately lose either way so I didn’t fight. I had another source of income that would cover things if I cut my expenses and lived more simply for a while. Sacrifice was the preferred choice. I just wanted to walk away and never look back.

So, no longer at a crossroads, I am on a decidedly different path and I am taking the next year or so for me. This will be a time to learn and grow and replace a lot of bad habits with something positive. A time to move toward the type of future I should have had all along. It will also be a time to focus on my kids. And this is where the “rose” part comes in. I am infinitely happier! I am relaxed. I am hopeful. And I dream again about all of the creative things I've always wanted to do. This is all good for both me and my kids. As I learn and grow, I will share my journey with you here in my blog. This blog, along with my other blog at explorevirginia.blogspot.com, is in itself one of my new adventures so, see? I’m already on my way!

Got any pearls of wisdom or experiences to share about how you extracted yourself from life’s great toilet bowl? Leave a comment because I’d love to hear from you.

Dreams

by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

In Quiet Slumber

We sail the ocean blue on a breeze the color of joy.
Under candy flavored clouds we dream deliciously of peace –
our bellies full of hope, pure and serene.
Not knowing where the journey will lead, we care precious little,
as long as we can sleep and dream.

© Cindy Chance (Written 2006 & Revised 12/23/11)

To Do vs. To Done

I’ve never been diagnosed with adult ADD but believe I have it. It’s hard for me to focus sometimes. My brain swims and drowns with thoughts and ideas. It’s hard to remember all of the things I need to get accomplished from day to day, which is why I rely on lists.



I make “to do” lists every day. There is a certain amount of satisfaction in marking off items I’ve successfully completed. But really a “to do” list is not good enough for me. If there are items still left on the list, I feel I’ve failed for the day. So, to counteract that, I will occasionally keep a “to done” list. It may sound silly but every so often I track what I actually did accomplish for the day down to the minutest detail. From washing dishes, to folding laundry, picking up toys, making a doctor's appointment, wiping down the counter, taking out the trash, paying bills, writing a blog, or walking the dog. Anything can be recorded.



A "to done" list serves as validation and proof. Validation for me that, though there may be stuff yet to be done, I have done a lot to work toward reaching my goals and handling my responsibilities. It also serves as proof for anyone who dares to question what I did all day. Since they likely won’t have a “to done” list of their own, they will hush up right quickly!


If you’ve never kept a “to done” list, try it for one whole day and see if you aren’t similarly impressed with yourself!

Computer Generated Models: What's the Big Deal?

Retail clothing giant, H&M, is best known for selling great fashion at cheap prices. Well-known customers include Madonna and Michelle Obama. Today, though, H&M is in the news for creating computer generated swimsuit and lingerie models. Some groups are crying foul claiming that H&M have taken the need for the "ideal" model too far and are further exacerbating the problem many women have with self-image. H&M defends it position saying that what they've done is no different than what retailers have been doing for years--using near perfect models or mannequins to promote a product. And, surprisingly, I agree with them.

I say "surprisingly" because I have less than the ideal figure myself--far less. It would make more sense if I took the opposing position and villified H&M for their actions. But, truth be told, they have merely used technology to continue a common practice in the fashion world, that of displaying fashion in the best possible light. It's no different than a car manufacturer who puts a handsome couple in a sports car as they speed along a beautiful European street. And it's definitely no different than using live models with "ideal" body proportions or mannequins. You don't hear a lot of outcry over mannequins that are too skinny!

No, instead of being upset by "ideal" computer generated models, I support the practice. I hate to see anyone lose a job but the reduction in costs associated with hiring models and photographers could further lower prices, which would benefit the consumer and the company alike. Consistency in model body type also helps to give a true picture of the differences between garments--how they fit, where they sit on the body, etc. It's a potential win-win situation.

I do, however, have a suggestion for retailers. By all means, display your vision of the perfect model on the main screen for each item being advertised but then try something really bold and daring! How about showing other computer generated models with varying sizes and shapes so the rest of us can get a truer picture of what the item would look like on us? You could even designate which items are best for pear shapes, apple shapes, etc. You might worry that it would decrease sales but actually it would help the bottom line. If people could pick out an outfit, see how it would appear on them, and still make the decision to buy it, they would be less likely to return it. So, which is better? More sales, more returns? Or fewer sales, no returns? Also, what if your marketing and design teams had real data showing the sizes and body types most "real world" people gravitate towards? How could that affect your designs and future sales? It's worth thinking about.


In summary, people, don't let retailers and advertisers dictate how you feel about yourself. They are just trying to sell clothes. The truth is the world is made up of people of all shapes and sizes, which is a good thing. It's diverse, interesting, real, and it will never change--no matter what ad exec's or fashion designers do to hawk their wares!

Person County Revisted

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019729-E [P&P]

For as long as I can remember, I have admired an 8 x 10 black and white photograph that my Grandma Irene always had. It shows her sitting on a front porch with my Mom as a baby on her lap and with my two aunts and uncle surrounding her. It was taken in Person County, NC where my grandparents lived on a farm that my grandfather worked as a sharecropper. The photo depicts a lovely slice of time in rural America’s history that sadly cannot be relived.


Well, at the turn of the century, a NC newspaper ran a feature highlighting local moments in history for the prior 100 years. In the section on the 1930’s, there was a photograph of a sharecropper in a tobacco field with two of his children. They were only seen from behind but somehow a distant relative, who is also the family geneaologist, recognized the people in the photograph as my grandfather, aunt and uncle. This relative did a little research and found out that seven other photographs of my family were in the Library of Congress and could be viewed on the Library of Congress website. The photographs were taken by Dorothea Lange. Of course, I immediately went to the Library of Congress website (www.loc.gov) but I was able to find over 50 pictures of my family on the farm they sharecropped in Person County, NC and at the local general store.


It turns out Dorothea Lange was one of a number of photographers hired by the Farm Security Administration during the period from 1935 – 1944. Some of the other photographers include Walker Evans, Russell Lee, Gordon Parks, and Marion Post Wolcott. They were charged with documenting the plight of sharecroppers, tenant farmers, and migrant workers after the Great Depression as a way of drumming up support for Franklin D. Roosevelt’s New Deal programs. Under the direction of Roy Stryker, the program also expanded to include documentation of daily American Life. Since Marion Post Wolcott joined the project in later years after the new direction was given, her photographs are more varied and, sometimes, whimsical, which I love so check her out.


Anyway, throughout this post, I am sharing some of the photographs of my family that Dorothea Lange took. They are from the Library of Congress website (www.loc.gov). Once you access the site, click on “Prints and Photographs”, then click on “Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information Black and White Negatives”, then in the search field type “Person County”. Once you have one that looks like any of the photos in this post, you can then click on “Browse Neighboring Items by Call Number” to see more of my family.
 

By the way, the Library of Congress website contains a wealth of information. Besides the documentary photography section mentioned above, I also recommend the following collections: Civil War, Daguerreotypes, Curtis (Edward S.) Collection, and Brady-Handy Collection.

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019758-E [P&P]

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019751-E [P&P]

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019706-E [P&P]

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019716-E [P&P]

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019727-E [P&P]

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019740-E [P&P]

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019733-E [P&P]

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019737-E [P&P] LOT 1498

Library of Congress Call Number: LC-USF34- 019784-E [P&P] LOT 1498

What My Grandma Taught Me

Some of the best times in my life were spent at my Grandma Irene’s house in NC. She was the quintessential grandmother with her short curly white hair and matronly figure, pantsuit or dress with stockings, and pumps with a 1-inch heel or Easy Spirit sneakers.


When I was seventeen, Grandma came to stay with us over the summer. She wanted to go walking at my high school’s track at six in the morning! So, I took her to walk in what felt to me like 90 degree weather. She wore a blouse, hose under her polyester pants, and those 1-inch pumps. While I sweated and complained and plodded along, Grandma walked—fast—and left me in the dust! In fact, she got up early to walk every morning until she was in her eighties. She was active all of her life. She was always bending over to prove she was still flexible enough to touch the floor and speed walking if we were walking too slowly in the mall.

Grandma always got up early in the morning to make breakfast, water her flowers, and tend to her garden. When I was little I loved getting to hold the hose to water her roses. I particularly remember her huge hydrangea bushes, which I called pom-pom bushes. To this day, hydrangeas are my favorite flower and seeing them reminds me of Grandma.
 

Grandma Irene was a fabulous cook. Having a serious sweet tooth, I seem to remember her strawberry preserves, pound cake, chocolate pie, pineapple upside down cake, and fruit cake the most. Actually, she was accomplished in many ways. She gardened, canned vegetables, sewed quilts from scrap fabric, crocheted afghans, crafted waste baskets out of recycled egg cartons, and made lace doilies, dolls, ceramic figures, and toilet paper covers.

Grandma Irene was fun to be around too. She loved to tell stories from her life. Sometimes I’d hear the same story so often that I’d tune it out, which was a mistake because, every now and then, Grandma would add some detail or tell a new story I’d never heard before. Besides telling stories, Grandma loved to tell jokes. No matter how many times I heard them, she was still able to trip me up! She liked to play dominos, rook, and rummy. Oh, yeah, and she was a cheat! I know because I was usually her partner. When she wasn’t scratching the backs of cards to mark them, she was winking at me or kicking me under the table to signal a play!

Caught Napping.  Again!

Grandma loved to be on the go. She was just as happy going on a ride out in the country as she was going on a trip out of town. She went with my family on many trips including once to a zoo where she rode an elephant when she was in her seventies! Even when she wasn’t feeling well, she would get dressed, put her ear bobs on, and she was ready to go. She’d always say, “I can feel bad out as good as I can at home.”

Grandma was a positive and happy person. She lived through two World Wars and numerous smaller ones; the Spanish Flu; the Great Depression; the advent of talkies, Technicolor, cordless phones, cell phones, and the internet; the sexual revolution; the deaths of her husband and daughter; and a double mastectomy. When I’d ask about farm life and living through the Great Depression, she’d always say, “We didn’t have much but we lived on a farm so we always had food to eat and a roof over our head.” Ask Grandma about her life and she would always say, “I’ve had a good life, a happy life”.


Grandma Irene passed away in 2003 at the age of 98. She was a great lady, a wonderful influence in my life, and an inspiration. I learned many things from her but I guess what I learned the most is to keep doing, learning, going, trying, believing, moving, enduring, appreciating, laughing, and loving!

Splinter in the Wind

I wish that I could curl up inside myself over and over

until I become small and unseen and protected as if in a shell,

but soft and light like a dandelion.

Then when I fall apart I could float on the wind to a new place unknown to me

and where I am also not known.

I could sink into the moist earth and be reborn—stretching,

growing ever closer to the sun—

until the world once again becomes too much to bear

and I splinter in the wind. 

© Cindy Chance (Written 2006 & Revised 10/14/11)

How to Grow Old Gracefully

Some say that aging is a natural process. A part of the cycle of life. They celebrate aging as a counter move to age-ism and cite examples set by wealthy stars and former models who have grown older “gracefully” (i.e., they still look beautiful and well preserved). What utter rubbish! These propagandists neglect to mention anything about genes, plastic surgery or costly dermatological treatments, soft lighting, and air brushing. In reality, we get wrinkles, age spots, sagging skin, puffy eyes, etc., etc. Historians worry about the fall of man but what about the fall of woman?!? No, growing old is a very un-natural process that leads to one eventuality—death.

Anyone who puts faith in the truthfulness of God’s Word as recorded in the Bible knows that humans were meant to live forever. We were never meant to die nor meant to grow old. Aging, sickness, and death are by-products of the disobedience that began in the Garden of Eden and have been passed down from generation to generation like hair or eye color. The account of man’s descent from perfection has been carried down too, albeit with variation, in the teachings of Christian and non-Christian religions alike, therefore what I am saying should not be shocking to anyone regardless of religious persuasion. So, with the un-naturalness of aging established, is it actually possible to grow old gracefully?
 

The first thing I wanted to do is make sure I understood the full meaning of the word “graceful”. Seems elementary I know but there are lots of words whose meaning we take for granted when, upon closer inspection, we can obtain a much richer understanding. So, I decided to investigate. The ever handy Dictionary.com defines the word “graceful” as “characterized by elegance or beauty of form, manner, movement or speech; elegant”. Taking it a step further, I also typed the word “gracefully” in a Microsoft Word document and did a synonym search. Said search yielded results such as:  

Kindly, Charitably, Benevolently, Elegantly, With Poise, Charmingly, and Stylishly 

These words sum up quite nicely how anyone can grow old gracefully. Simply put, be all of those things. Stylish and elegant in our dress; poised in our carriage; kind and charming in our demeanor; and benevolent and charitable in our thoughts and actions. No doubt we each have examples of ones in our lives who exemplify these very characteristics. Follow their example and, to slightly paraphrase Dylan Thomas, “Rage against the dying of the light”…gracefully.

The Power of Words

I embrace me as I do my writings, reserved and unsure.
Though oft times the amateur, easily read and dull,
there is a spirit to us both and raw truth aching to be understood.


Ashamed of who I am in these unstudied moments,
ashamed I tend to be of all I write.
But this is me in these emotional, unpolished expressions.
This is me when the mask drops and I am acutely aware of my short comings,
my hopes, my fears, my loneliness.


Written words hold the power to express a side of me I’ve hidden so long
that no one knows it’s there.
A side I forget about too until my secret self is revealed and I live,
if only in written words.
 

© Cindy Chance (Written 8/7/06 & Revised 12/17/09)

Myrtle Beach, SC - November 2011

Myrtle Beach, SC, as most people know, is a great tourist and golfer destination. Our family went there a few weeks ago for vacation. November may seem an unusual time to go to the beach but actually the weather is still nice, hotel rates are slashed, and it's not crowded. Everything I love about a vacation! Here are some pictures I took. Hope you enjoy! 

  

Southern Fried Manners

So, why is my blog called "Southern Fried and Tied Up?" Let me explain.  Despite the fact that I, like most people, prefer to do things when I want to and on my own terms, I really am all for norms and rules. They help to establish order and calm in a chaotic world. They give people with undiagnosed ADD a framework within which to bounce around. The problem comes with knowing how to balance between extremes. This is perhaps truest within the Southern culture.


You see, in the South, people run the gamut between extremes. You have your wide-open, wide-mouthed, yee-hawing, good-ole-country boy on one end of the spectrum, and your prim and proper, oh-so-refined, Southern belle or grand dame on the other end. What is considered polite conversation within the spectrum varies just as widely. Some swear like sailors while others speak with such gentility that it's as if they curtsy with their words.  Case in point, I was talking with a friend who brought up the “F-“ word. You know (looking from side to side and whispering)…”Fart”. My mother can’t stand that word. As she says, it is crude slang and other words can equally, and less offensively, be used. One could say, for example, poot or toot or pass gas.


Anyway, I remarked to my friend that sometimes I feel southern fried and tied up because of societal conventions such as those governing the use of words like “fart”. I quite liked my original expression—"southern fried and tied up"—because it is metaphorical of a larger pull and tug between being who you are versus who you are supposed to be, as dictated by society at large. It’s like the strain to breach the confines of a perfectly constructed cocoon that is all at once overwhelming, suffocating, and constricting while it is also warm, safe, comforting, and known. How does one navigate such a narrow passage and still feel unique?


As always, it comes down to balance. Balance between personal needs and the needs of others. Turns out it’s really not all about you or me and what either of us want. There is a bigger picture and still others to be considered. Here is where manners come into play. Manners have nothing to do with the individual who displays them but have everything to do with the recipient. Manners say “I respect you and your feelings”. The world certainly could use more of that.


Truth be told, I do let the “F-“ word, I mean “fart”, fly (no pun intended) every now and again but I also feel my Mom has a point. There is something safe and comforting in convention, in politeness, in gentility. Something that says the world hasn’t totally lost all redeeming value. Something that speaks of our better natures and our ultimate potential as a species. So, Mama, in harmony with Colossians 4:6, I will try to season my words with salt, making them palatable to those along the spectrum of society knowing that it can only contribute to the betterment of all.

Introducing Me

Welcome! This is my new blog called "Southern Fried and Tied Up". Here I will blog about my life and will include essays about a variety of subjects, photos I've taken, poetry (that rarely rhymes), fictional prose I've written, and anything else I want to share. My next blog post entitled "Southern Fried Manners" explains how I got the name for my blog.


So, who am I exactly? Well, I am the mother of two great kids and live with a wonderful Shih-Tzu named Kenzie, two leopard geckos named Treelo and Charmander, and a beta fish named Shadow (a.k.a., Herman). The rest I guess you'll learn as we go along.


Always remember that I appreciate comments and love followers!! Oh, and don't forget to follow my other blog at http://www.explorevirginia.blogspot.com/ about great things to see, do and eat in Virginia. I hope you enjoy my blogs and come back often!


Cindy