The Overnight Shipping Label

Yesterday as I was working diligently at Whimsy Press, placing shipping labels on the brown cardboard boxes and placing them one by one at the foot of the door, I began to wonder who was being naughty this Christmas, and who was being nice. As I surveyed the room, craft paper littering the floor, trash cans piled high with tape and bubble wrap, I realized that although things aren't too great in the world around me, things are merely content in this little station of mine.

Wildfires Turn Atlantans Happy

Oh friends,

It's been too long since I last wrote and part of my very long list of new year resolutions include enjoy writing on my blog at least 3 times a week. There is a truth in the enjoy part, but I will get to that later. Now, we must keep in tune with the headline, as I'm sure some of you are wondering, what wildfire? Well, the wildest fire reached Atlanta last night, just off Memorial Drive in a small concrete building near I-20 southbound. What really happened? It was a wild Saturday night for some of us, war paint smeared across my face and others too, as the night waged on, I saw a total of 9 great bands, all at the tips of my fingers. Sitting on the cold asphalt floor, me and everyone in between rose to our feet and sing in song, full of life and cheer ringing through our teeth till the wee hours of the night. It was a really great night. I haven't had a night like that in a while, a night where I got be see my friends, some of them new, some of them old, but we all smiled at each other and loved every minute of it. Acoustic guitars with black sharpie scribbled on them like it was etched in stone, hoodies and hats, and a whole lot of laughter. It's so amazing how one night can change your whole outlook on a good night. It was one of those things where I didn't even have to try to have fun, I was just emitting it throughout the night. I had the golden touch. I touch you and you are happy, just like me. It's a simple act of giving and sometimes, I just want to bleed it. Not literally, but I want there to be an abundance of joy around me and people just look at me and see that I'm full of energy and excitement and imagination and spontaneity, and that they too can embrace this feeling.

And that reminds me of the good times we need to be sharing. Some people are afraid that when we lose a grip in life, we lose our hearts and our minds. But look at the world around us now, today– things aren't perfect and yet, I am still sitting here reflecting on the fun times I've shared last night with people I've never met before and yet, I call them my friends now. And that's all we can really do. 

"The essence of pleasure is spontaneity."

-Germaine Greer

Change... is on my mind, yes it is...

Today is a day unlike any other. It is election day, though hardly similar to the past years where democrats and republicans have put on their faces and persuaded the masses to vote. This presidential election has been heated battle, caressing those undecided states like newborn babies, never waning to far from the needy. And after two long years, it is finally over. The nit-picking, the SNL skits, and the overall boisterous trails of the presidential campaigns. Tonight, I sit with my friends and family to enjoy the last minute moments of CNN corresponding to the polls and the overall vote. Who will it be? You know my pick... but enjoy the night because things are about to change...

"Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change we seek."

- Barack Obama

Old Trains

Hello Friends,

I'm sorry it's been so long since my last post. Don't be too excited, but I got an internship, it's not a design job, but it's with a great company and I feel very at ease. I'm getting used to my sack lunches and early mornings, as one should once school is finally over for good. The people I work with are smart and fun and really interesting people. But the best thing about the intern is my morning walk. After parking the car in a lot ten minutes away from the office, I have a beautiful stroll along green ivy and old train tracks. Often trains coming roaring by and you can see the old steel wheels grinding into the metal tracks, it's a peaceful morning. Across from the tracks are graffitied abandoned warehouses with broken windows and birds sitting atop, whistling along to the wind. I leisurely walk down some steps, head through a "no trespassing" gate, pass a few buildings here and there, and finally come to the office doors. But there's nothing like, for example, today, such a cool morning, walking along the blue concrete walls and thinking about my day, what it will bring, and life as I know it. 

One train in particular caught my eye, and I couldn't help but stare in amazement. There was all but a little yellow paint left on it, its rust twinkling in the sunlight (end of day) and yet, it carried with it this nostalgic feeling of my childhood. The house I lived in for years growing up, we lived in front of some train tracks and I remember excitedly finding pennies or whatever coins I could scrounge around the house to place them on the warm tracks. My ear sometimes sweeping the against the sturdy grey metal, listening for the far off sound of breaks and metal on metal, the weight of the wheels crushing firmly into the earth. Trains make you wonder about the world. What else is out there besides good ole' Atlanta? Where is this train going and have I been before? In early America, trains were a means of freedom. Hank Williams, a true hobo at heart, envied the conductor, who got to escape from the world, and just ride, ride, ride. Sometimes, I wish I could just hop on a train and let it take me to an unknown beautiful place. Sitting in the boxcar, air in my face, and my worries just blowing away. But then again, if I knew that life, would I dream for the one I have now? One with stability, and friends, and family, and a place to call home? Maybe so. 

And now, something else about trains from another poet's heart... "The trains roared by like projectiles level on the darkness, fuming and burning, making the valley clang with their passage. They were gone, and the lights of the towns and villages glittered in silence..."

- D.H. Lawrence

Cards, Cards, Cards and Vampires

Hi again there,

It's been awhile. I fell off the band wagon yesterday, things got a bit bumpy and I couldn't make it to the computer for even a millisecond. But today, I went to work in the morning (got there early because I finally had a job interview in the afternoon and had to leave early), and am now, back at home getting ready for a fundraiser, but in-between, am finally catching up with you.

I'm sort of a cards kind a girl now. I branded myself with cards and now I'm getting freelance jobs left and right for making cards. It's fun and keeps me busy. Very busy, which is why I can't write long today. But a few friends have been asking about the mysterious greeting cards, so I wanted to let them in on the secret. 

Now for another secret to be questioned, do you believe in vampires? And it's not just vampires but the supernatural and the superheroes? What makes opinions credible? Vampire stories and myths have been around just as long as our history so what makes us so quick on the catch to say or believe they don't exist. Not that I need to know they exist, my world is already scary enough with boogie men, hooded cloaks and the many Jasons of Halloween. But seriously, I'm scared - I can't even walk through my neighbor's haunted house ran by his 12 year old son. But it still makes me wonder -- do they exist? And if so, how do they restrain from piercing right through our pearly white skin whenever we come across their path?

"You are a vampire who never knew what life was until it ran out in a big gush over your lips."

- Anonymous

Oh, the Thrills of Wonderroot

Well, as it takes more time than I thought to find a job in this city, I've had the pleasure to use my time wisely. Yesterday, I visited Wonderroot, a non-profit organization that believes in the good of Atlanta, the hope that the city and community can change and the people can work together to see it happen. It's a social movement where the people bounded by the city walls unite and give back to the community. And more so than visited, I volunteered. It felt great. To get out of the confines of my bedroom and really do something other than look desperately for a job. So today, I'm talking about getting out there, doing something with your time that brings happiness and a reflection on your life and the ways you go about living. It's funny, I got a design job offered to me when I least expected it at Wonderroot. Don't be afraid. Take the challenge and see where you land. You can always pick up your things and leave, but at least you tried. 

I really like the original Wonderroot t-shirts - a big messy fully-loaded sandwich with mustard dripping down the sides of the bread. Yum. But it makes you think about what these shirts meant to the Madmen (see reference below) of Wonderroot. Three best friends, who wanted to see something greater in Atlanta, started handing out sandwiches to the homeless. From summers to fall, they would gather street teams and around midnight, when it was dark out and the city glistened with heat and litter, these soul searchers walked the parking decks and abandoned buildings, handing out fresh-made turkey on whites for the begging hands that woke at the scent of real food. I see true heroism. And this one simple act of goodness led Alex West, Chris Appleton and Witt Wisebram to build something they could see brewing on the horizon. A community center that for them was an outlet for Atlanta to rebuild itself as a beautiful and homogenous city, full of life and laughter and morality. The less fortunate working together with the more fortunate and vice versa. Art, service, music, community, activism, communication, and sharing all under the same roof. It is a triumphant dream and one day I hope to be apart of it. Apart of it all.

"The important thing is this: to be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."

- Charles Dubois

WonderRoot was named "Atlanta's Best Arts Advocate" in Creative Loafing's Best of Poets, Artists & Madmen (Readers' Pick) 2008.

Monday, Monday, Just Like the Song

Good Morning Friends,

I seem to use a lot of references in my blogs to songs and music. Here's the thing, I was a lucky child, growing up all around music. A father who sang "Sweet Baby James" on his guitar, an uncle who rocked out beautiful blues mantras on the key boards, and my mom's perfect posture at the grand piano, Pachelbel's canons bursting through the living room. All this music soaring through the house as my brothers and I ran around playing Pirates and Indians, and dancing every-so-often to the beats of the illustrious rhythms. 

So one would think that my brothers and I were blessed with musical talent. Well, my older brother plays the guitar. Mostly he's into the mandolin and the dobro as his days are filled with country music, living in Nashville and writing about cowboys and rock stars at American Songwriter. As for the other brother, it was the drums. He had this whole drum set, maybe 12-piece set, and could play for hours. I was always jealous of the hand twirl. Now, that leaves me. And I could not figure it out. I tried piano when I was little, and I hated dressing up for the ceremonies. I also took from this old lady in the neighborhood and her house reeked of moth balls and bananas. I always road my bicycle and she had the steepest driveway ever. I had to dismount and walk it down and then the hike back up was so dreadful. So that was it for piano. I had rather run around with friends and get in trouble (mind you I was only eight so there wasn't too much trouble to get into), but anything was better than old Mrs. Georgias'.

So that was it for my musical career until college. I picked up the guitar. I even bought one with my own money and sat around the house letting my fingers swell up and harden. I thought I was pretty good until a friend came over and blew my ambitions in the water. She said she'd been playing for six years and she finally was considered pretty good. I was determined, but not that determined. The guitar still lay around the house, guests picking it up now and then and playing a few chords, but that was the most life it got. I eventually gave it to the drums playing brother who decided one instrument wasn't enough.

Here I am, almost twenty-five, and I'm still waiting for my musical gift. Maybe it will be the violin or the cello. I think I gotta get out of these mainstream instruments and explore deeper. It's in my blood, and I'm not giving up. So here's something for those also looking for something passionate like music...

"After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music."

-Aldous Huxley

A Song to Wake the Soul

Songs that wake you up from no matter what state you are in is a beautiful thing. Sometimes I get in these music funks. For a while I refused to turn the dial on my radio, listening to non-stop classical music, which my boyfriend thought was crazy. I don't know what it was, something about the peaceful music took my mind off all the things I couldn't figure out in life. It was almost like when the classical music was playing, the quartet of strings and the grand mastery of the piano, I knew things would be better. The music had survived centuries, and told stories of ancient's past. And here I was, worried about what to make for dinner.

But this morning in particular, I've had a realization. I've been playing the Bright Eyes Cassadaga album over and over again in my car. One reason I suppose. I was talking to a friend about this Bright Eyes album, this story is actually killing me because I can replay it in my mind a hundred times, the tone of her voice, my reaction, but I cannot remember who I was talking to. Ha. Well anyway, this person said their favorite song on this album was number 1, Clairaudients (Kill or Be Killed) and I almost choked on my laughter. On the whole cd, that was my least favorite. I kept thinking how in the world can this person like this song. There is nothing to it. So in order to understand my dear unknown friend, I have been playing this cd on repeat for about a week now. And finally, it hit me, I got the truth out of the album. 

I have changed my favorite songs. When I first got the cd, there was no doubt that ones stood out. And those had become my favorite. But I've been letting the odd numbers play, not absentmindedly reaching for the next button, the music has filled my heart. New songs I hadn't even thought twice about. But it's amazing how only one song still wakes my soul. Like this morning, I was in a bad mood driving around. Dreading what I was going to write about today, because I didn't want to pass along my dreary appetite for gloom, and of course, the album was playing. And as a song had been played and had only :34 seconds left, it grabbed me and pulled me back up. My head started nodding, my hands started beating the steering wheel and I was smiling, singing along to the end of the song. That really is a beautiful thing, something I keep close to my heart. A song that makes me happy no matter how I feel. I won't give away my song, as maybe you too should pick up the album and play it non-stop and get in those moods and figure out which songs save you too.

"Everything it must belong somewhere, they locked the Devil in the basement, threw God up into the air, everything it must belong somewhere..."

- my friend, my savior, Bright Eyes

Maybe My Head was in the Gutter

Hello, hello.

I'm beginning to not be exactly sure who I am anymore. Not in the sense that I'm going crazy or have amnesia, but I knew yesterday was Wednesday, and yet all day long, I kept telling people what a rainy Tuesday we were having. But the thing is, people just agreed. There was no, "um excuse me, miss, I believe it's actually Wednesday." Hmm, I guess that's what you get when it rains. And it poured. And Atlanta needed it. The rain - all day Wednesday (there I said it), all through the night, and not a drop come Thursday. 

Is this a sign to play some outdoor sports? I want to play tennis but the courts are still too wet. So where does that leave me? Staying indoors and working, oh the dreadful thought. Ha, as if I have anything better to do. And it's not quite work yet. Here I am, sitting in my pajamas at my desk in my miraculously clean room, cutting up pictures of the 12 Days of Christmas, watching Weeds on my laptop, and enjoying two pieces of toast with Strawberry jam all over. So if it were up to you, how would you weight it, tennis or work?

And as you know, in closing, a little something to help you decide what you want to do today...

"Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide."

- Napoleon Bonaparte

Rainy Day Tuesday, Head in the Gutter

Well, not literally, but this morning, I could not get my body out of bed. The birds warned us... they knew what was coming. Did you notice how crazy the birds were acting yesterday. They were squawking for hours. My bedroom window lay open as the cool breeze circled around my body, but the birds were the only thing on my mind. This has happened before – change in weather, change in seasons. But I like the rain. I like the way it lightly taps your shoulders as if playing a game with you, a cool drop here, a cooler drop there, rushing you to get inside, to stay dry. And today I have things scheduled, no excuse to stay in bed. 

I'm visiting my friend's store, Terra Cottage, to discuss greeting cards. What is in a card that make people want to buy it? I'm all about seeing poetry in visuals. If something is very poetic but simple and clean, I will buy it. Let me know your thoughts, as I am curious to see why other people buy greeting cards. 

In closing, something to think about on this rainy day...

"Millions long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a rainy [Wednesday] afternoon."

- Susan Ertz

Getting started... in every sense of the words

Hello and Welcome,

This blog is designed to watch the world around me. Well, more specifically, things happening in Atlanta that have an impact on me and you. So, for a little meet and greet session; the About Me part. My name is Lucy Grady Inman and I have just graduated, with a design emphasis, from the Creative Circus. I am a freelance designer looking for work in this ever-so-difficult market. It's only been a few weeks since my graduation, and I know it's going to take far longer than that to find work, but boy, has it been hard. I wish I could just snap my fingers and say job. And there sitting in the palm of hand is a name waiting to be contacted, just begging for a freelance designer. But life isn't like that, I know this, and it's good to experience these first-hand career difficulties. But my life isn't all that bad either. For extra cash, I'm doing a CPR course and I've just put some of my greeting cards in a store in Atlanta. So, hopefully things will be looking up. All around us that is. And until tomorrow, here's something to part with, about my career search, and maybe yours too.

"Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing." 

- Theodore Roosevelt

So in my case, it's worth it to keep sending out 50 emails a day just hoping someone may bite.