My girlfriend who has beaten me getting into law school, came for a visit this past weekend. She made me salivate for knowledge. I didn't know that was possible, but it happened. She began with classes and how you can have any arguement you want. She moved on to how there is only one exam a semester per class and that each exam is five hours long. Then she explained that there was one memo class where her final memo would be 26 pages. HOW COOL IS THAT?! She looked totally exhausted and happy and full of LAW.

I wanna go now. I wanna go right now. I wanna go to law school. I wanna go to school today. I wanna study law. I wanna be a lawyer. I wanna. I wanna. I wanna. I wanna. I wanna.

I watched the Star Wars trilogy last night. The old Star Wars. Unfortunately, it was new to me because graphically all kinds of things were altered and scenes were added and wierd. It made me realize why I watched them and listened to the music all my life. It is a great story. Some of the things that I didn't realize (probably because I have always seen it from a child's perspective instead an adult's) is that the Jedi's are the equivalents of priests and the Force is God and the whole thing is a religion of sorts. The idea is that only the chosen have the powers, but everyone believes and Luke and Anakin are the two whose spiritual journey the focus of the story is. Never could get that before now. Anyway, the Ewoks are still the coolest creature written out of all of them. It was strange that they were the only ones other than the humans who showed grief for loss during battle. Guess it is due to the whole clone thing. I still haven't seen the third new Star Wars. One of the scenes made by Leah and Luke was regarding their mother and I wonder if she dies in child birth or if Leah really does get to spend time with her prior to death or if it was one of the stand ins they use for her or what really happens. I also found it interesting that Jedi's are not supposed to love, yet the connection between father and son was one of love and one powerful enough to overcome the dark side of the force so why not love?

In other news, my apartment is CLEAN. Not oh, look I did my laundry or oh, look I vaccumed, rather it is so clean that you could eat off the floor. My art stuff is put away, my clothes are laundered, my closet is organized, my bookcase organized, my pictures dusted and adjusted, my kitchen table cleared, my dishes washed, my rug vaccumed, my dresser straightened, my hardwoods swept, my toilet and tub scrubbed, I MEAN CLEAN. I haven't had time in a while to do those things and needless to say there was a call for it like nothing ever called for except when I was sixteen and there was no floor insight because all my clothes covered the floor from my bathroom to the hallway. I still have my linen closet to work on and my dresser drawers to work on too. I could do a better job on two shelves in my closet too. It will get done though. probably by Saturday. Once I get going, I just don't stop.

I love this song: It Never Entered My Mind, performed by Miles Davis. It makes me want to be in my apartment reading with warm lighting, maybe a candle and someone making hot tea in the next room and perhaps reading somewhere close by and totally in love with each other.

There is nothing like the ride to Blairsville accompanied by the Cold Mountain soundtrack. This morning I drove to this little roadside grocery store called Sunshine Grocery. It is owned and operated by this lovely couple who are my age. They inherited it from his parents and have two children who come in and help in the afternoons. This afternoon's task for her little boy will be cleaning the blueberries out of the cooler from where they spilt and where the rest now in our cooler at Manna. I went to get organic blueberries (which are the best blueberries I have ever tasted....mmmmmmm) and bittersweet (for Gertie Mae's to sell). The drive doesn't really begin until the Horseback Mountain Ridge is in the rearview mirror. There is a store on the corner of 129 and 9 that is called Turner's Corner. It is the begining of a huge loop that occurs where the racers race and the bikers cruise. Something happens there at that corner. The trees cover the road like a canopy of greens, which during autumn(not that we are going to have one this year) is yellows and reds and oranges. It is breathtaking no matter what season it is, but I can understand why the bikers bike. But in the vanno it still had a nice effect with the windows down. The temperature immediately dropped. According to vanno, it went from 70 degrees to 64 degrees which was 69 degrees as I left and 75 degrees out of the same spot! Go trees, way to cool things off. The mountain which Sunshine Grocery sits on is Blood Mountain. For those of you who don't know, at Walasi Yi (place of the frogs) the Appalacian Trail starts which is just prior to the grocery. I am not sure the reasoning behind the name of the mountain, but I recognize that the curves in the road could totally live up to the tradition. There was probably some great battle or death of some kind to earn its name. There is no way to go over about 40 miles per hour unless you are a local and make that trek everyday. The vanno was not up to it and I think it topped out at 35 which was fine with me because the scenery is amazing, peaceful, beautiful and everything that God created.

Side notes to trip:

Originally, I was supposed to take my car, however, my car has a flat tire. Yes, it is the same tire I ran over John's dog with, who is recovering quite well and turns out that I am not the first to run over her this past week. Turns out that Albert, the farmer who owns the land, ran over Rosa too, only he didn't flip out like I did. So now my tire is flat and I drove the "blackvannomanna" as it is familiarly referred to amongst those who drive it. Needless to say I was relieved to drive to Blairsville, it was a getaway from the stress of my life. I recognize that none of side note is big potatoes (flat tires and dogs don't constitute big events in my life) and there are bigger potatoes out there. The only thing I thought about though whilst on my journey was that if I flip out over dogs and tires, what will happen to me when the big potatoes do show up and no wonder people are so severely effected when the big potatoes arrive because the small potatoes are aweful.

Back to story:

My trip was so relaxing and reviving that I was almost grateful coming into work. Just kidding, I was grateful coming into work! Then everything picked up speed and instead of listening to heartbreaking music and being surrounded by majesty, there were trasfer trucks and tons and tons of inventory to stock: organic blueberries, fresh made sweet rolls, fresh hearth baked bread that was still warm and much more. . . mmmm. . .the taste of gratitude!

So I went over to "talk" to John last night. He was the best boyfriend ever last night and I never courageously "talked" to him because I was so entranced. Then I woke up this morning, got ready for work and got into the car to drive back to Habersham and am on my cell phone talking to Baron York and there's this noise. This awful noise. I haven't gone anywhere but to pull forward and felt part of the ground that didn't feel like ground. I ran over John's dog. I RAN OVER JOHN's DOG.


She is 19 years old and suffers from arthritis and she has always moved away from the car in the past and I thought she had moved, I couldn't see and I could only hear her. I RAN OVER JOHN's DOG!!!! I am terrified and John comes running outside and calms me down, not really, but he sincerely tried and I don't know that he has ever seen me that upset. I don't know that I have been that upset in quite sometime. There was blood, and still is, all over my tire. She was howling like crazy and very upset with me. I was very upset with me because it was Rosa, my favorite cow dog who is 19 years old and has been kicked by more 1500 pound animals than I could ever imagine and I RAN OVER HER. The cows and mules couldn't kill her but. . . John took her to the vet. Because I rolled over her so slowly, her hip is displaced and she cracked a tooth. The vet set her hip and she is on heavy narcotics so she won't move and the tooth has stopped bleeding and was totally pulled. So she's okay, meanwhile I RAN OVER MY BOYFRIEND's DOG.

you are like a holy wine/so bitter and so sweet/oh I could drink a case of you.....

My best girlfriend is Megan. Have I ever mentioned that before? There is a reason for it. I was listening to this music and I wanted to drive to Megan. I was in Macon this weekend and all I could think is that I wasn't hanging out with Megan. Isn't that crazy? Usually we hang out on Saturday nights. Then to make matters worse she broke up or was dumped by her boyfriend by the time I got back. It made me want to kick him for being stupid. Not that I won't kick him for being stupid still, I just haven't run into him yet. She and I are so not alike it makes me laugh. She is fierce and bold and a mighty force. Me I am perky and serious and in need of a double mocha with a shot of cherry flavor at this moment. Too bad it is seven or we'd both be on our way to the coffee shop. We do both like coffee, although she drinks chai more than coffee, sometimes tea. Now she says He has issues, I don't like him, but I need coffee so who am I to know the truth? I don't think I would mind living with her if I didn't kill her when I lived with her because we have tried that and tore the walls out of the house. We have tried working together too and whoops. At least we are great friends. Great friends. She is the person I call in the middle of the night and the person who lets me cry and whine about my boyfriend. She is the one who lets me clean when I need to clean and tells me to call Michelle when I need to call Michelle. She is someone who I can't live with and can't live without. I don't know if that is a good thing or not, but it is what it isssssss......

"Hats off gentlemen, a genius."

This is what Shumann (spelling) said after hearing Chopin play his own work for the first time. Shumann was an exact contemporary of Chopin, both being born in 1810. While all this is standard in my Mom and Dad's heads, I am no longer a practicing musician and have forgotten much while I have been non-practicing. I use the term "practice" on purpose. I have not practiced my violin or my piano in over a year. When I go to my parents home I generally tinker on their piano, but not practice. I used to drive them nuts not practicing. There were some of my finest fits pitched over not wanting to practice. My discipline is still that atrocious. Last night I attended a performance by Dr. Joe Chapman playing an evening of Chopin at Piedmont College, which is the local private college in Demorest. Anyone who knows where Demorest is knows that it is not even big enough to claim a stop light, only a flashing light that lets the college students and professors cross from the parking lot to the main campus. Who would know that Chopin would be played in such a small place with such expertise. The only notes regarding Dr. Chapman were that he gives recitals all over the state and teaches at North Georgia College and State University. He was fabulous. His tecnique was amazing. I watched as the sweat dripped from his brow while he pounded away at Polanaise in A Major, Op 40, No1; as he breathed the saddness of the Nocturne in E Minor, Op 72, No.1; and rounded out with the Andante Spinato and Grande Polonaise Brillante, Op2. My girlfriend Debbie found out that he was playing last night and the concert was free. Who would guess? I was so grateful to be able to go to a concert dressed in heels and hose with makeup and good company. We had dinner afterward and reveled in the sounds of the piano and how wonderful it was. I was so excited I called my brother because this is the type of thing he does all the time and now I am doing it too. What a great night. I wish I could convey how enjoyable an evening it was.

Today at Manna, where I am working (gourmet food store. . . togo!), I am playing the Practical Magic soundtrack and there is a song that goes along with the sisters traveling to see each other. It makes me think of the only person who I know as a sister. She is in Vermont right now with her man who she is planning a wedding. Lea Anne and I grew up together and had similar struggles but completely different parents and different lives. She grew up and became a hippie and I am a wannabe. She is in Vermont or now that I think about it she might be in New Hampshire. She is fond of cold places so who knows. She was in New Mexico and Colorado and Ohio before that. I haven't seen her in a couple of years, but I know that she is only a phone call away. She is one of those people who pass in and out of my life but who are always close to me. It doesn't make any difference where we left it, we will pick it up. We used to fight when we were little. Mom and Dad didn't like sending me to her house to spend the night because we would fight the whole time. Strangely we wouldn't want to do anything except spend the night every time we had a chance. We used to stay up until 4 am. That was the thing. I would come home exhausted and be ugly to my family and Dad would swear that I was never going to spend the night out again, and then the next weekend would come along. I can remember hiding in the women's bathroom under the vanity at First Baptist until our parents would let us spend the afternoon together. Turned out that we did spend the afternoon together, but just not at each other's homes. Our parents were in rehearsal and I don't know that they even noticed. That was one of the perqs of being the minister's kid: freedom. She and I would go on a mission trip or weekend together with the youth group at Smoke Rise. We would sign up to room together and all kinds of stuff, by the time we had gotten there, we would swap rooms and be off. We would call each other the Sunday afternoon we got back and talk for hours and left our parents scratching there heads because they swore that we had just spent the whole weekend together, but the reality was that we would get there and split up to separate ways and never see each other. Thus the three hour report on the phone when we returned. She went everywhere with me and always had a different story than I did. I miss her. She is my sister. Maybe it is time for that trip that I so desperately want to take up east coast. Mom and Dad get to do that during their summers, maybe I will soon too.

I just love New York in the fall. If I knew who you were, although this not knowing has its perqs, I would buy you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils.

There are certain smells that have come with my life. There is the smell of Ridgecrest and Camp Crestridge on a summer morning. There is the stale chlorine of my hair after swim practice in the middle of the winter, which is different from the summer cholrine that bleaches my skin, hair and eyelashes. My Mom going on a date with my Dad and the way her Chanel No 5 or Obsession is subtle in my senses.

This morning, autumn snuck into my home. I left the window open because the evening was so nice. There was a coolness which I don't notice until my barefeet hit the hardwood floor and for a shocking moment I think I am getting ready for my highschool day, yet I hear nothing in the background that sounds of Avondale or family and I awake to my apartment in Clarkesville. I quickly hit my knees to say my morning prayers, where I can smell the mountains as I talk to God. I went to make my coffee, I could see out that same window over the top of Clarkesville where a small fog burning off by the morning sunshine. I know it is the first of several. Fall likes fogs that are like the mountains lifting their heavy eye lids in the mornings. My coffee brewing and my recognition that it is a God type morning. I read my meditation and wait patiently as the rest of me catches up to the fact that I am out of bed and moving. I realized that I didn't have to be at work as early as normal and am much happier with the smell of fresh coffee. I watched an episode of the West Wing and ate popcorn while drinking my coffee that had hot chocolate instead of sugar because I was out. It was a righteous morning. By the time I left for work, I was in a pair of jeans and had one of my light/heavy tops that are all about fall. I could still smell the autumn air, but it was obvious by the heat that the morning had almost given way to the left over summer. I love this time of year.

per Mom's request:

They Are Just Swimming

They are just swimming,

stroking perfectly in rhythm

like the beating of a steel drum.

Melodies spill through my mind.

A whistle blows, the rhythm changes,

like the beatin of a heart.

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

The butterfly is the most beautiful creature,

with a wingspan of 50 feet,

streaks, spots, black, red, yellow,

beautiful, I wish.

The bodies hoist themselves out of the pool,

walking forward. Will they notice

my body not sleek, finished, toned?

Diet? Healthkick?

Tofu--looks like styrofoam shredded

Rice cakes--styrofoam packed

No, just apples, oranges, fruit

like me, a fruitcake

loaded with sugar, multi-colored,

fake,

fruit

--the kind only Aunt Eunice

can find.

To the weightroom I follow.

Why call this a dry practice?

Dripping with sweat like the rain

pouring from me an empty sky,

Clear, Blue, so empty you can

see the ozone being made,

clearer than the water from a fresh

water spring.

Yet,

it rains bullfrogs.

Ribit.

Muscles ache with the pain not even

a mother in labore has ever

experienced.

Experience, I know nothing,

not even how to talk.

Kissing? Non-existent, wouldn't know

if it happened.

Do they know? Please say no.

Just smile and bare the perspiration

Look at all of them,

talking of Alice in Chains.

They don't know--me.

"Work," Coach screams like the

screaming of the tortured in

the castle of mid-evil times.

Oh, to be a princess with a crown

and innocence to be admired,

people granting your every wish.

Who would need

Love?

Why Love? Because without, love

there is no life

and

without life there is nothing.

Does that mean if there's something there?

Could it be life?

Love?

My footsteps to the shower echo loudly

like they could start an

avalanche. Then the snow would

be

pouring

down the sides of a mountain.

I would be

Crushed---in a shower stall at

the natatorium.

------Rachel Green '94

1rst Place, 12th

Trident Poetry Awards

I have taken a suggestion from my artiste friend Megan, okay, my best friend who happens to be an artist, and am in process of painting a poem.

In my junior year of highschool, I was reluctant to read Huckleberry Finn. I have yet to read it and I do believe it was on my freshman list in college. Needless to say, I came up with a big fat zero on a quiz in Ms. Mosley's advanced, junior, english course. In the household which I was raised and the leader of the household being a straight A doctoral student, zero's were frowned upon. Being selfish in nature though, I was slightly less worried about my Dad's opinion, rather, I was more concerned about exempting the exam because if I could get out of a test, I would get out of a test. Ms. Mosley said that the only way I could make up the zero was to write a two page poem. A TWO PAGE POEM? Like I could write a full one page poem! Inspired by the unsightly zero on my record which I was desperate to replace, I set out to surprise my teacher and earn a 100 to appease the home front AND get out of an exam. So I waited... and then I waited... I waited some more... then the last minute kicked in and the end of the quarter was coming around. Somehow I ended up picking up my cousins from Dynamo and can't remember if I was just happened to be hanging out with my Aunt Sue or what, but somehow I was waiting on my cousins, Kelley & Jenny. I sat waiting and wrote a poem in the same style that I was studying in Ms. Mosley's class. She was having us read William Faulkner's The Sound and The Fury, which she wasn't sure if a junior class could handle or not and I LOVE that novel. To this day, I love that novel. William Faulkner writes in a style called stream of conscienceness (I hate spelling that word), or so Ms. Mosley taught us. Somehow in the moments of waiting in the natatorium I wrote two pages of poem. I turned it in and recieved my 100. I ended up taking the exam anyway to increase my grade to an A instead of a B. I studied at Marnie's house and spent the night with her granddaughter who was my best friend, Emily. Little did I know how much Ms. Mosely thought of my two page poem.

The following year the literary magazine awards were given out. Over the intercom in my AP calculus class in second period, the announcements were made and Mrs. Elrod, the literary magazine advisor announced my name as the senior poetry winner, first place. The way my school went though, Rebekah and I were always confused. I knew that I hadn't entered anything for the magazine and Rebekah knew that she had, so to collect the $25 prize money we both went to clear things up. It was my two page poem. Ms. Mosely entered it for me. I don't know that I even have the original draft. I read it before a group of winners that year at a literary tea. The most interesting thing about the way I won is that no one in the school was a judge. It was an outside english professor from one of the colleges. Who would guess that I could write a poem?

Megan read that poem and told me I needed to paint it. Have I ever mentioned that I paint? Well I do, but only for me not for you. It is a soup nazi style painting philosophy that I have. Anyway, I began to paint this poem. I cried. I cried some more and then I didn't paint. I didn't paint. I cried. Then I did paint. I realized that the poem while being that stream of conscienceness, it was my conscienceness. It was me. Who would know that a poem I wrote when I was 16 would be who I am today at 29? It is insecurities. It is inabilities. It is the essence of who I am and the way I think and feel. Now it is trunkated and painted all over my apartment. Now my apartment is a little more of me. And now, if or when you ever come to my home, know that I am open and vunerable whether you know it or not. I guess when they talk about finding out "who you are," this is what they are talking about.

Look she's over there at Wandering Jules, no wait she's at Gertie Mae's...maybe Baron York, nope she's at Manna.....


Yes that's right, I haved earned a new title: Go to girl.

I am working for four businesses on the square who are downstairs, next door around the corner and behind the corner. Everything is within walking distance (screw the oil producers) and everything provides my needs. I start at Baron York who I get lunch and take home desserts for dinner; go to Jules to get my evening outfit, then to GM's for fresh flowers and Manna for take home dinner, where I can have dinner with my boyfriend in my cozy apartment on the square for a comfy date. Ho-hum such a hard life.

There are several benefit ideas floating around for the Katrina victims. I am not sure what will materialize, but I am sure it will be great and helpful. It should be interesting.

I am going to play with Sebass and Megan this evening. I think we are bonfiring out at the farm. It will be fun no matter what. Anything with Megan is fun. She is cranking in art school and I am totally jealous. It is inspirational though. Motivating I think is the right word. Hurray, a day off tomorrow.

Well the Newsies are having a good day. Jack says that headlines don't sell papers, Newsies sell papers, but he also says that what makes a good headline are words like "nude, corpse. . .love-nest....pardon me maybe I'm saying too much." This morning my alarm went off to nude and corpse in the same sentence from NPR. All I could think was the newsies are havin' a good day. I overheard these women in an expensive shop yesterday talking about they just couldn't watch the tv any more and that they had decide to "go on the wagon." This was due to one of the liquor stores in Helen being taken out by the tornado that tore through Helen. I drove through Helen yesterday and the destruction was unbelievable. Some one asked me if Helen had power yet and I said sure it is all over the ground. Helen looks like God took a lawn mower to it. The trees are just gone. Some are split and broken, bent over and what not, but generally, they are gone. There are power guys who all I can think is that we are the lucky ones because we have power guys as opposed to the less fortunate who have been killed for what's left of their homes. There is a direct path that the tornado took. It is crazy. I had a young'n say to me that President Bush would come to help (he is a 16 year old, six four, three hundred pound line backer for Habersham Co). All I can think is why haven't they sent in the National Guard and then I realize there is no National Guard. I sure am glad that he is going to sacrafice his vacation to look at the damage. I mean looking at it doesn't mean he has to take any action. "Give me a good assasination, give me and earthquake or a war...how bout a crooked politician, hey buddy that ain't news no more!!!!"