Protecting Your Pain

We like to think that we protect things/people that we care about. Kids. Households. Jobs. Reputations. But pain? We hate pain, right, so why in the world would we want to protect it? Right?

Actually, for most us, there is pain that we don't want to let go. We pet it, ruminate on it, repeat it, check it again and again like that sore tooth that we just can't stop touching with our tongues.

For writers and other people who define themselves as "artistic," this is especially dangerous. For one, we're defining ourselves as something. And two, that definition becomes our story, the fences, the borders of our lives (there's no way I can do x ... y or z). I remember reading about writers' lives in graduate school, really digging into their bios, and thinking, wow, I might not be that good of a writer because I would rather be happy.

Uh .... but then life happened, as it always does. And suddenly, I had my own wounds. Now, before you think that "Nope, this couldn't be the norm. Protecting pain is stupid! Why would I want to hurt?," ponder this. You've been out with a person (person #1) who says they're over someone but just can't stop talking about that person.

Or you're with a person (person #2) who seems to have a deep sadness. They don't want to talk about the past, but they allude to that fact. Instead of it not coming up, they avoid it, keep things surface, etc.

Both of these tactics protect pain.

Person #1 rereads the script over and over, creating a habit, a history, a story that eventually becomes a belief. It's the guy at the VA hospital that grosses out the Candy Stripers by showing his nasty scar and repeating in too much detail how it happened. Note: This is different than processing pain, working through it, sharing with those close to you in order to form stronger bonds. But eventually, those relationships need to grow past the pain, or they will wear out.

Person #2 keeps a bandage over the old wound. There is possession. This is my pain -- you couldn't possibly understand. Note: This is different than "going there" and really looking at something in your quiet time, really shining the light on something in your mind in order to clear out the cobwebs.

Now, if you noticed such a person, well, more than likely you've been  that person. I have.

I've been writing a Story of Me for years -- something I repeat to people, highlighting things, but more than that, repeating it to myself. And I have cared about the pain, even though I would've dismissed you if you'd pointed that out. I didn't know I cared about it, but in certain corners of my life, it was still hanging out. And like watching Dirty Dancing for the 71st time, I'd play over that pain again, remind myself of the feelings, the specifics, the whole thing down to the credits.

Here's the real deal. You don't have to drink yourself to oblivion like F. Scott Fitzgerald to be a writer, kill yourself like Sylvia Plath, be depressed like Hemingway, cut off your ear like Van Gogh, or fire people routinely to show your leadership like Steve Jobs. There is no story you have to fill in the blanks to to be a writer or create anything.

Pain is natural, and actually pain is good! It is telling you "Danger! Something is wrong here!" Why would you keep listening to the fire alarm instead of putting out the fire??

Don't underestimate research

"I've been to the Jack Daniels distillery."

As soon as it escaped my lips, I knew. I was talking, making bad small talk, actually, with the editor of a BOURBON lifestyle magazine. At that moment, I didn't really know there was a bourbon lifestyle, much less a publication devoted to it.

But there is. Case in point on the Jack Daniels: click here.

Jack Daniels is a Tennessee Whisky, y'all. Not a bourbon. However, the gentleman politely blinked his eyes to gather himself, and then said, "That's great. We're from Kentucky, so Jack Daniels isn't technically a bourbon, but ..."

The essence of politeness, graciousness, and all things the bourbon lifestyle I presume. We smiled and chatted, but I knew the bell was tolling for me. It was obvious I knew nothing, especially not enough to not mention Jack Daniels.

But herein lies the power of research, ladies and gentleman, and a warning. Sometimes life at the little desk is not about writing, but about researching, and on bourbon I was enthusiastic but ignorant.

That means, Steph, you can talk a man under the table any day, and find a 1000 other connections besides this. Do not talk about what you do not know.

This goes for writing too. Yes, you can write an article on ventricular malfunctions, but it will take some serious research unless that field comes to you. And if so, it's easy. If not, you set yourself up for failure, as readers often know more than you in such cases.

For me, food research comes somewhat naturally. I follow food writers on twitter, read food books, follow food news, and well, after all, eat and cook. I enjoy reading about food. But if you think Zaxby's is the height of living, then it could be hard to get serious about food writing.

As for me and bourbon -- I just need to get serious. I am ready for an education past Knob Creek and Maker's Mark. That is, if my palate is worthy of passing those gateways ... if I say I love rye whisky does that help?

Day Bleeds into Night

Last night, past dusk, I walked to my car, parked on the Battery.

The shadows had lengthened enough in the South of Broad neighborhood that the color had bled out of everything, and the corridor was layered also with the scent of jasmine and men smoking cigars who were walking their dogs. Not many lights were on in houses, and Meeting Street felt like a dark tunnel of growing things above me.

The horizon opens up suddenly at White Point Gardens, and beyond it was the water, a calm night, still reflecting a bit of the green and more of the blue left by the setting sun. The moon and Venus were already out, and the trees were silhouettes like those of Clay Rice, perfect edges flat against a light background.

Belated Wine and Food Fest Gushing

OK, I know it's been almost a month since the BB&T Charleston Wine + Food Festival, but since it's sincerely one of the highlights of my calendar year, I'm still basking in the glow from this year's events. Each year is a bit the same and yet very different, and although I anticipate and plan a bit for the events, I really can never predict the fun that will ensue.

Two favorite unexpected aspects from this year:

-- The rise of the cocktail, and thus, the rise of the amount of spirit sampling in the grand tasting tents. 

The Ascot in mass quantities in its dispenser

For an unseasonably warm weekend, the refreshing Ascot from Icebox was a wonderful respite, but by far, the stand out in this category was Cardinal Gin, hailing from Kings Mountain in N.C. The story is awesome -- twin brothers and their daddy, but even better is the gin. They were providing mini gin and tonics, and the buzz around how good this stuff was, the botanicals that were clearly evident in the sip, was a favorite conversation.

It's available at multiple locations in the Charleston area, so yippee for supporting small business and my taste buds at the same time.

-- Industry talk. 

This year, for me, it was even more of a learning experience. The parties were awesome, yes, but so were the panel discussions on topics ranging from cookbooks to choosing a fish. Immersion was the key here, well, that, and getting over the free sample thing. Just lining up like cattle to get a sample can be fun for a while, but why not stop and talk to the producers you like and pick their brains? Or better yet, explore the festival beyond the tasting tents?

When you do this, it is like a food homecoming, talking shop as it were, whether you are chef, producer or enthusiast. The feeling is mutual.

A Jedi Makeup Master

Sephora opened up in Southpark mall when I lived in Charlotte, and I remember I almost hyperventilated the first time I crossed its threshold. Perfumes and sparkly shadow and glosses, oh my!

I walked out with a Christian Dior eyeshadow in a shade of Addams Family green that I thought made me look modern but instead made me look like I was getting over the Black Plague. I mean, I was going to pull through, but pictures of that period revealed that it was touch and go for a while.

I love color, and little pots of nail polish were just the thing, I thought, when I was having a bad day. Pretty soon I had a shoebox full, and one day I used them to paint a rocking chair. Really. They are enamel, and I was paring down my paint collection.

The fingernail polish rocking chair. Obviously, I had the yellow paint for a base.

Yet another time I was sucked into something because of the vintage picture on the tin that promised a dewy, silent movie complexion. After smearing it on my combination skin for just a few days, I created an oil slick under my makeup that made me look like I had just finished a shift standing over a McDonald's deep fryer.

So when I met Andrew Petersen last year, make-up artist extraordinaire and founder of Misiu Beauty, I did not realize that he was the Obi Wan Kanobi of cosmetics.

We met socially, and I instantly gravitated toward his sunny personality and his positive attitude. He is genuine and although I mentioned coming to see him for a consultation, I never really followed through. He didn't sit me down in a chair under a magnifying glass, ph test my skin or any other such thing. We just chatted.

Well, over the summer, he revealed his Jedi makeup master status. We met for a glass of wine one night, and when we said goodbye, he rummaged through a bag in the dark parking lot and pulled out some samples literally in two minutes. Foundation, a perfume, and a Laura Mercier lip color. He said, try these and hugged me goodbye.

1. The foundation matched my skin tone perfectly.
2. I am considering hoarding the lip color, a sheer berry that I never would have tried, since during the winter, it makes me look like I've just returned from a brisk walk on an English moor.
3. And just instinctively, he chose for me a perfume that is my favorite ever. Rose Oud by Killian. It deserves its own blog post.

Wow.

But more than just his amazing knowledge is his sincere enjoyment of people. He loves to help people see the beauty in themselves, the beauty he sees and that he knows is much more than just their lip color or eyelash length.

Every time I apply one of those samples, I silently applaud Andrew for daring to be so generous with his laughter, his encouragement, and his knowledge. Bravo, my friend, your example is generous as well.

Get your dancing shoes on darlin, we're going out tonight

Last week I received an invite to see the Charleston Jazz Orchestra. I said yes, then realized it was for the 10 p.m. second set. Oh.

Now I love jazz. It's my main "writing" music, and I make a point to see some each year during Piccolo Spoleto. But I don't see it live as much as I say I want to. So I got off the couch, changed out of my Saturday night stretchy pants, put on some heels and made good on that orchestra ticket.

Best decision I made that week. My face hurt from smiling, responding to conductor Charlton Singleton's excellent direction and easy manner. The show was infectious, fun, and the 10 p.m. showing was open, loose, and more personal. Everyone that was there seem to feel it, including Stacy Huggins of Charleston Art Mag (who I missed seeing that night. I didn't look around really -- eyes mesmerized by the stage). Stacy's blog recap was perfect, check it out here, but I want to express how it made me feel.

It changed the course of my thoughts. I wasn't feeling great when I got there, and when I left, I was walking on air. It's the power of music, of a language that we all understand, of the joy that the musicians felt playing together. It washed over all of us, a gift.

Beadwork bonanza

When I came across Chris Maj's work on etsy, I at first, said "oooh." And then I said, "whoa." Why? I saw this:

And this:

And this:

And they are made out of beads, by hand, each bead threaded and woven together. Suddenly, I felt a kinship with all those people who look at my quilts and say, "You did all this? Wow, you've been busy. How long did it take you?" When underneath those questions is the unspoken elephant in the room:

How do you have the patience to do this?

The short answer is, we find it fun. Read Chris' long answer in my profile of her in Go Triad. And don't worry about how she does it, just appreciate the artistry, feel the connection to this art form that has been around since antiquity, and get your "oohs" and "aahs" ready.