she moves she

All I wanted was to give my hair a little lick of luster but not at those salon prices nu-uh! So I picked up a box of Natural Instinct’s Hazelnut-Medium Brown hair dye. What they don’t tell you is that “Hazelnut” really means “Black as the Devil’s Soul.” And with the bangs I’m rockin’ these days I look like some Closet Emo. Under these slacks I have a tattoo of Conner Oberst and scars and scabs from my cutter habit and oh how I wish I was wearing my black and hot pink platform shoes right now instead of these adorable strappy sandals. I can’t look at a mirror without grimacing and hearing an involuntary “ugh.”

I can now announce to the world that I am moving back to Alabama at the end of August. Chicago and I have been on the skids for a while now (see all blog entries from winter) and–I never thought I’d say this–I desperately miss Alabama. This city and I have outgrown each other. Like in a relationship when you both know you have to move on no matter how much you may lose or how heartbreaking you know it will be. You just say “It was so lovely” and walk away without ever really turning your back, or forgetting, or ruling out any future entanglements.

After taking off, I’m transitioning with a three week jaunt in The Bahamas. Five days at a silly little all-inclusive resort and the rest of the time immersing myself in yoga and meditation at an ashram on an island in the middle of the Caribbean.

I’m quitting my job and going to The Bahamas. That just sounds so nice to say. And it’s true. It’s so true.

In a bewildering and inexplicable shift I have taken a sudden and quite in-depth interest in the economy. It’s surprising from someone who always looked upon Wall Street Journal readers as the Soulless of Society and assumed Accountant Types had an inability to appreciate anything in the realm of art and transcendence. Aren’t there two types? The Left Brains and the Right Brains? Probably. But the idea that Rubix Cube Geniuses and Attorneys at Law can’t appreciate a Cezanne or a sunset or a Whitman is ultimately laughable. A social construct that isn’t always truth.

If I had to guess what stemmed this conversion (other than my mother’s incessant lectures and banker genes) I’d say it is a direct result of a new philosophy of mine having to do with embracing fears. And since for as long as I can recall, the topic of money, business, mortgages, escrows, et all inspired something akin to nausea, I’ve taken a fresh approach.

We fear what we do not know. So the most obvious way to overcome fear of finances is to of course…get to know them, invite them round for tea. Befriend those buggers.

Astonishingly, I don’t hate it. I’m actually interested in the mortgage crisis, the status of the American dollar, profit margins even. It’s unprecedented. This American Life has a great episode about how this mortgage crisis evolved into what it is now. It’s enlightening. I definitely recommend it to know-it-alls and know-nothings alike. Listen.

It is officially official that I have a Masters of Writing. My final A appeared on my transcript sometime Monday night, propelling me into Master status. Make all checks payable to the Lippeatt Foundation.

“Spry” baby. That’s the word. Was the word. Was the name.

Past tense.

I arrived at 10 South Wacker, pencil-skirt clad and manila-folder laden. Up to the 40th floor to a lobby unmistakably chic with a view you only get if you’re a CEO or Batman. I sat down with two lawyers. One to advise me how to make this publication of mine a legitimate business (LLC please) and the other to draw up a contract for future freelance contributors in order to cut the risk of infringement lawsuits, and figure out this trademark nonsense.

The nonsense: The name “Spry magazine” has been taken. A company called PGA filed for application of the trademark a mere 33 days before I did. And because we’ve both been trying to register the same name at the same time it got stuck in the Trademark Jungle. Legally though, they have the name.

I’m ok with it. I had a couple months to get used to the idea and I see it as a blessing really. A chance to do it again but this time the right way. With contracts and mission statements and a creative director and money! Any ideas for names are welcome but don’t expect to own the rights.

I’ve become something of a Business Woman. And oddly enough…it’s empowering. Being an artist is a great thing. I am firstly a writer and thinker but to thrive…you have to have the business smarts too right? It’s a fact. Money is important and it doesn’t land at your feet or magically appear in your mailbox when your 40. So if it takes me cultivating my high-heeled, pencil-skirt, fax-sending persona in order to write what I want and still be able to take a luxurious vacation, I’m ok with that.

Two chemicals called actin and myosin evolved eons ago to allow the muscles in insect wings to contract and relax.  Insects learned to fly.  When either molecule is absent the wings grow but cannot flap, rendering them useless.

The same proteins are responsible for the beating of the human heart.