Saturday, February 07, 2009

I Art February

"Art arises when the secret vision of the artist and the manifestation of nature agree to find new shapes."

~ Kahlil Gibran

Last night, February 7th, was First Friday in West Greenville, an event by local artists to open their studios to the public. A fire eater performed and American Grocery exhibited spun sugar art - so cool.
This was my first event and it was fantastic. There were so many wonderful people to meet and the artists had some fabulous works displayed. Cake Squared provided cake for the event and we even bought some wonderful little cake pedestals from Knack.
The buzz of our new cafe is spreading and the West Greenville crew is pumped and ready for some excellent coffee and cake.
If you are ever looking for something to do on a Friday night, First Friday is EVERY first Friday. It's a happy and refreshing evening with art, wine, light refreshments, and entertainment.

Monday, February 02, 2009

Play that funky music white boy...

After reading this post secret, I secretly check my mailbox everyday for a mixed cd.

Not a secret anymore.

Sunday, February 01, 2009

"The Secret" is out.

The Secret saved my life!, December 4, 2007 By Ari Brouillette (Kensington, CA United States)

Please allow me to share with you how "The Secret" changed my life and in a very real and substantive way allowed me to overcome a severe crisis in my personal life. It is well known that the premise of "The Secret" is the science of attracting the things in life that you desire and need and in removing from your life those things that you don't want. Before finding this book, I knew nothing of these principles, the process of positive visualization, and had actually engaged in reckless behaviors to the point of endangering my own life and wellbeing.

At age 36, I found myself in a medium security prison serving 3-5 years for destruction of government property and public intoxication. This was stiff punishment for drunkenly defecating in a mailbox but as the judge pointed out, this was my third conviction for the exact same crime. I obviously had an alcohol problem and a deep and intense disrespect for the postal system, but even more importantly I was ignoring the very fabric of our metaphysical reality and inviting destructive influences into my life.

My fourth day in prison was the first day that I was allowed in general population and while in the recreation yard I was approached by a prisoner named Marcus who calmly informed me that as a new prisoner I had been purchased by him for three packs of Winston cigarettes and 8 ounces of Pruno (prison wine). Marcus elaborated further that I could expect to be [...] raped by him on a daily basis and that I had pretty eyes. Needless to say, I was deeply shocked that my life had sunk to this level. Although I've never been homophobic I was discovering that I was very rape phobic and dismayed by my overall personal street value of roughly $15. I returned to my cell and sat very quietly, searching myself for answers on how I could improve my life and distance myself from harmful outside influences. At that point, in what I consider to be a miraculous moment, my cell mate Jim Norton informed me that he knew about the Marcus situation and that he had something that could solve my problems. He handed me a copy of "The Secret".

Normally I wouldn't have turned to a self help book to resolve such a severe and immediate threat but I literally didn't have any other available alternatives. I immediately opened the book and began to read.The first few chapters deal with the essence of something called the "Law of Attraction" in which a primal universal force is available to us and can be harnessed for the betterment of our lives. The theoretical nature of the first few chapters wasn't exactly putting me at peace. In fact, I had never meditated and had great difficulty with closing out the chaotic noises of the prison and visualizing the positive changes that I so dearly needed. It was when I reached Chapter 6 "The Secret to Relationships" that I realized how this book could help me distance myself from Marcus and his negative intentions.

Starting with chapter six there was a cavity carved into the book and in that cavity was a prison shiv. This particular shiv was a toothbrush with a handle that had been repeatedly melted and ground into a razor sharp point. The next day in the exercise yard I carried "The Secret" with me and when Marcus approached me I opened the book and stabbed him in the neck. The next eight weeks in solitary confinement provided ample time to practice positive visualization and the 16 hours per day of absolute darkness actually made visualization about the only thing that I actually could do. I'm not sure that everybody's life will be changed in such a dramatic way by this book but I'm very thankful to have found it and will continue to recommend it heartily.

Thanks to The Life and Thoughts of the Future David Garcia

The night the lights went out in Georgia.

A friend and author of Confessions of a Rebel Debutante, Anna Fields, poses a question on her blog to all women.

Are you a rebel, a deb, or both?

My initial response is to whoop a rebel call because I wasn't a debutant. I didn't attend the balls or eat the cookies - that was normally for girls whose families had more money. But I was a "quality girl" raised on the right side of the tracks in a good Christian home. So after some introspection, I change my answer to both.

Being raised a lady held the same rules as those debbing. Stand up straight. Be gracious and courteous to others, hospitable, and kind. I learned how to be a good hostess, how to set a table, which fork was which, never to cross my legs at the knee and how to properly behave in mixed company. These instructions gave me confidence and ease in any social or private situation. And as a southern girl I was taught under no circumstance to cause a fuss, make a scene, or embarrass myself or anyone else - all things can be settled in private or eventually the good Lord will deal with the perpetrator and justice will prevail.

I don't always behave the way my mother or grandmother would have in the same setting, but I am more inclined to hold my tongue and chose my battles. If it's none of my business, I generally stay out of it. I won't cause a scene just for the sake of drama, but if I have something to say or feel the need to set someone straight, I will. I don't think there's anything wrong with a little bit of embarrassment where a swift kick in the rear is needed. And if a little public humiliation doesn’t do the trick than I’ll leave it to the good Lawd or their mamas’, which ever one gets to them first.

Fight what’s worth fighting. Strength of character and a southern tongue are powerful weapons.

Julia: Excuse me, aren't you Marjorie Leigh Winnick, the current Miss Georgia World?

Marjorie: Why, yes I am.

Julia: I'm Julia Sugarbaker, Suzanne Sugarbaker's sister. I couldn't help over hearing part of your conversation.

Marjorie: Well, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was here.

Julia: Yes, and I gather from your comments there are a couple of other things you don't know, Marjorie. For example, you probably didn't know that Suzanne was the only contestant in Georgia pageant history to sweep every category except congeniality, and that is not something the women in my family aspire to anyway. Or that when she walked down the runway in her swimsuit, five contestants quit on the spot. Or that when she emerged from the isolation booth to answer the question, "What would you do to prevent war?" she spoke so eloquently of patriotism, battlefields and diamond tiaras, grown men wept. And you probably didn't know, Marjorie, that Suzanne was not just any Miss Georgia, she was the Miss Georgia. She didn't twirl just a baton, that baton was on fire. And when she threw that baton into the air, it flew higher, further, faster than any baton has ever flown before, hitting a transformer and showering the darkened arena with sparks! And when it finally did come down, Marjorie, my sister caught that baton, and 12,000 people jumped to their feet for sixteen and one-half minutes of uninterrupted thunderous ovation, as flames illuminated her tear-stained face! And that, Marjorie - just so you will know - and your children will someday know - is the night the lights went out in Georgia!

So, I'm both. A rebel and a deb.