Life is Like an Avocado

         My man took me to the county fair last Friday. Fairs are synonymous with freakishly large things. Whether cows, pigs, carrots or balls of string, large is celebrated with blue ribbons. One of my favorite big things we found was giant painting of a large avocado. See picture below in which I attempt to take a bite of canvas. 

           The enormity of this painted fruit reminded me of something I wrote at school two years ago. 

           "God showed me this morning that I often approach life the way I approach avocados. I just naturally assume they are going to be rotten. I hope they will be perfect, but I prepare for the worst. I expect fear. But God is showing me that life is rarely, dare I say never, as bad as I worry it can be, and always way better than I can imagine it to be. It is not a perfect illustration as I have experienced many disappointing avocados and very little trouble in life, and avocados as a fruit are simply a garnish whereas life is the main course I suppose. 

          But it remains that I expect avocados to be brown and rotten and plan to cut out the bad and mush the rest with garlic, salt and pepper to make guacamole just in case. I do that in life too, planning for possible outcomes. But God just wants me to trust him and not waste energy worrying. I think God makes much better guacamole than I do. Though the thick, dark skin prevents me seeing the quality of the fruit underneath, God has created the cool, green stuff to be good, and he sees it while it hides from me." 

         After announcing the revelation that "life is like an avocado" in creative writing class and writing an avocado inspired haiku on the board during our poetry workshop, my Ohioan professor responded, "By saying 'life is like an avocado,' do you mean it is tasteless and bland?" So for those non-California natives who do not fully appreciate the importance of the avocado, I apologize that this illustration may prove mostly wasted.

         But for anyone else who enjoys the green, smooth texture...

         I am not sure whether Jane Austen was ever inspired by food. However, she does include an interesting reflection on potatoes from the mouth of Mr. Collins at the Bennet's dinner table. But as a wannabe writer, I am often struck with an idea after reflecting on edible things like avocados, omelets and pizza, etc. 

        Returning to reflections on the avocado, I found this idea of expecting disappointment relevant once again in this new season of post-graduation. Although it's been strange to live without school or the thought of returning to it, things are beginning to form in a direction that I didn't think feasible a couple of weeks ago. I started my first paid writing project today, and I feel quite at home because it's just like getting a homework assignment. The point being that God remains much more faithful than an avocado. Though the avocados have been mostly quite tasty and creamy too this summer. 

Sisters

       

         I love girls. I love being around them--talking, laughing, crying, hugging and praying. Raised with two boys, I have multiple surrogate women in my life who act as sisters, grandmothers, and extra aunts and mothers.
         I suspect that Austen was a woman's woman, too. Her beloved sister Cassandra was her nearest confidant, and most of her work stems from female perspectives. There is the Bennet clan of Amazons who outnumber poor Mr. Bennet, the tight male-less Dashwood group, the disjointed Elliot women, etc. The women in these tales don't always get along. There are often unreasonable members, such as Lady Catherine or Mrs. Bennet, as well as unhelpful advice from female counselors like Lady Russell or Emma. But despite the occasional persecution amongst their own sex, the women of Austen are a fairly tight bunch as they wrestle with life and with men--the more foreign companions.
       Guys can be awesome friends, as well. In fact, I'm appreciating and valuing them more and more. However, the immediate intimacy available with most women who giggle and scream and just "totally understand" requires more careful navigation.
      

Death Comes to Pemberley

        I filled recent hours on airplanes with a modern murder mystery set in Austen's universe which my aunt recommended a while back. Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James focuses on Darcy and Lizzy's happy microcosm at Pemberley with their two sons, neighbors the Bingleys and young sister Georgiana who is getting to know two suitors. But soon tragedy strikes as Captain Denny is murdered in the woods, Whickham becomes a suspect and Lydia becomes hysterical.
       This representation of characters from the classic is a cute and well-done spinoff. James weaves in other Austen stories referring to the Knightleys from Emma as well as connecting the action to Elliot's from Persuasion.

Artistic Endeavors

"Woody"

           My first time putting artwork up for sale. Today, a couple of my beach watercolors went up in a local Oceanside consignment shop called Lorraine's Galleria.

"Waves"

Trip Recap

            As promised, here is a pictorial recap of our trip last week.

 Andrew Jackson, the White House and the Washington Monument.

Pennsylvania Avenue.

The Korean War Memorial.

 Mount Vernon was Beautiful.

 Outside the Library of Congress.

Alexandra Hamilton?

 

             So what does a whirlwind tour of colonial America have to do with Regency England and Pride and Prejudice? Well, I'm arguing that it was my version of Elizabeth's trip with the Gardiners to the Lake Country and Derbyshire because there were some beautiful buildings and landscapes. Also, I saw this at Arlington National Cemetery. 

Library of Congress Tour

         

             Day seven of our D.C. trip today. My mom and I spent the first few days in the capitol, rode the train up to Wilton, Connecticut to visit friends and head into N.Y.C. tomorrow.
            Wandering around the capitol on Memorial Day weekend, my mother and I walked into the Library of Congress as it was beginning to close. We peeked through closed doors, and I snapped pictures of the engraved quotes and the gilded dome. Wandering around down below the main hall, we got separated. As a searched around, a security officer with a rust colored beard walked after me calling, "Ma'am, where are you going?"
             "To grab my mom. She's somewhere down there."
             "I don't want you to get lost down here." So he came with me.
             But at the end of the long corridor revealed yet another maze of halls and no mother. I tried calling her cellphone while the guard strode back whispering into his radio. Seeing him become smaller and smaller back down the hall, I made a break for it and jogged down the next hall to look. Nothing. I felt hot and fighting mad as I turned around to walk back.
            There she came with the bearded guard at her side. I couldn't stay angry for too long because the officer escorted us down through a gold elevator and asked if we would like to see the library floor, usually off limits to tourists.
             "We'll see if any of my keys work," he said twisting into the lock.
              Click.
              We stepped onto the bright cream carpet and strained our necks towards the ceiling. The guard prattled on about being on duty during the shooting of the second National Treasure film with "Nick Cage overacting as usual."

              Libraries are amazing places. And I could write several paragraphs about why this is true, but it would be easier to convince you by simply walking you into the doors and leading you to the parallel shelves of musty old paper, glue and ink.
              Darcy gives Elizabeth an indirect complement when he exasperates Caroline Bingley by adding to her long list of qualifications for the accomplished woman saying, "And to all this she must yet add something more substantial: in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading." The following are a few quotes a took pictures of at the Library of Congress. I feel that Austen would concur.

 "The true university of these days is a collection of books."

"Reading maketh a full man [or woman]. Conference a ready man [or woman]. And writing an exact man [or woman]."

 "The chief glory of every people arises from its authors."

Waiting for the Sequel

           The most popular conversation to have with a recent graduate begins something like this, "So the million dollar question is what's next?" I know this now from experience. And I've become quite polished at responding, "I have no idea!"

            Answering the question "what next?" has proved less terrifying than I made it out to sound all semester. Though I still don't have a satisfactory response, or even any plan at all, life keeps moving, and I'm still breathing--despite the fact that I have no papers due and no presentations to practice. I feel a little bit like clothes hanging in the closet, fresh and waiting for the next outing.

 

         As far as the Pride and Prejudice project, things seem to be at a similar junction wondering "Now what?" My capstone was completed with along with the end of school. I had so much fun speaking during the presentation, that I want to keep working with it, although in a different format, perhaps less academic.   

  101 pages when it was all said and done. 

        This week's post has become a mixture of metaphors and pictorial media. My life, at the moment, feels a bit like the ending of a novel. Everything with school was tied up in a neat little conclusion and laid to rest. That sounds a bit morbid. Don't worry, no one has died. But it's different than just a new chapter because chapters are full of suspense and leave you on a cliff so that you turn directly to the next. It's more like the ending of a book, or a section, and I'm waiting for the sequel to come out and hoping it doesn't disappoint. The first book was so good that part of me wonders if the author can top it. I have a feeling He can.