In this week's reflection Sharing Vision, Jesica and I attest to the importance of speaking your dreams aloud to others, especially a friend who believes in you and will hold you accountable to making them a reality.
I realize I'm far from the first to wax poetic about the power of this phenomenon, the good that can come from surrounding yourself with like-minded people who reflect your best self. But now I am here to remind you that these people can come to you in all shapes and sizes - perhaps in a form you have been overlooking. Perhaps they are people who have no idea that you exist, or are fictional characters who don't in fact exist themselves. Their reality isn't as important as the fact that they are a representation of your vision, making it seem more possible for your own dreams to become reality.
As you may remember, one of my 23 Dreams for 2014 is to "read everything written by Julia Reed." Well, "everything" may seem like an exaggeration considering she has prestigiously been published in many magazines, including Vogue and Newsweek, in addition to her own books and published essays collections by others...honestly, the list goes on and on. Yet, I fully intend to get my hands on all that I possibly can. I'm starting in the most recent and obvious places and working my way backwards, by re-reading her monthly column in Garden & Gun magazines lying around the house and filling my Amazon.com shopping cart with used copies of her memoirs.
You may be wondering, Why now? Why Julia Reed?
Meanwhile I'm wondering, Why did it take me so long?
I recognized her name from browsing in bookstores over the years, but she really stuck in my head after my older sister - who has impeccable taste - pointed her out to me. I can still picture the cover art of her books stacked on a display table in Sundog Books in Seaside, Fl. I (foolishly) didn't buy in to them, let alone open them to see what I was missing. Unfortunately, Julia was fighting for a top spot on a long to-read list, which I hardly ever got around to after homework while in school.
Despite my naivety, she managed to regularly resurface in my consciousness upon the arrival of each new issue of Garden & Gun. I had a habit of flipping through the pages from cover to cover, scanning the stories before settling in which to read first - that was until I would see her name in a bold-faced font, usually beside a clever cartoon illustrating the column.
That by-line in itself, printed proudly in one of the most regaling publications, is enough reason for me to give Julia hero-status. I adore her anecdotal stories and Southern ancestry that was woven into her writing style. I feel so connected to her. Not only does she do by profession what I dream of doing, but it was simple other details that made her feel so real to me; her column in the November 2012 issue reflects on her time in her mother's beach house along the scenic 30A Highway in Florida, not far from the aforementioned Sundog Books. Through these little commonalities, no matter how small, helped remind me that maybe Julia and I weren't that far apart either.
And so I resolved to surround myself with her words, in attempts to close the gap. I may be done with college, but I know that my education in writing is forever a learning process. In this self-taught course, I'm creating a syllabus of her writing.
Inside the first delivery from Amazon was a paperback copy of The House on First Street: My New Orleans Story. Not even a chapter in, I had at least a dozen epiphanies - little bursts of excitement over her well-written paragraph, her description of the Gatsby-esque News Orleans parties, fact that her address was once on Bourbon Street, or her romances that were reminiscent of a Southern Carrie Bradshaw, but better. I don't know if Carrie Bradshaw could have weathered Hurricane Katrina the way Julia did.
Since I've never been to New Orleans, the memoir has provided me with an urging desire to visit - and just in time for Mardi Gras season. As I've continued through the book, I had to settle for Cajun dinner at Roux in Rosewell. I have managed to enroll my sister, who first introduced me about Julia, in the "course" as well, after an ordering mix-up brought a second copy of The House on First Street to our home. We've enjoyed reading at our own paces, but together, sharing the epiphanies aloud, with jazz music playing in the background and dreams of voluptuous Mardi Gras balls drifting forefront into our minds.
Last night, I was delighted to see more deliveries had arrived, including The Queen of the Turtle Derby and Ham Biscuits, Hostess Gowns, and Other Southern Specialities. They await eagerly on my nightstand, and the latter includes recipes I will most definitely attempt in order to truly submerse myself. Although you have no idea I exist, I thank you, Julia Reed from the bottom of my Southern heart, for being such an fabulous teacher. The most important lesson yet is that what you are doing, it is possible. Let the education continue.
I realize I'm far from the first to wax poetic about the power of this phenomenon, the good that can come from surrounding yourself with like-minded people who reflect your best self. But now I am here to remind you that these people can come to you in all shapes and sizes - perhaps in a form you have been overlooking. Perhaps they are people who have no idea that you exist, or are fictional characters who don't in fact exist themselves. Their reality isn't as important as the fact that they are a representation of your vision, making it seem more possible for your own dreams to become reality.
As you may remember, one of my 23 Dreams for 2014 is to "read everything written by Julia Reed." Well, "everything" may seem like an exaggeration considering she has prestigiously been published in many magazines, including Vogue and Newsweek, in addition to her own books and published essays collections by others...honestly, the list goes on and on. Yet, I fully intend to get my hands on all that I possibly can. I'm starting in the most recent and obvious places and working my way backwards, by re-reading her monthly column in Garden & Gun magazines lying around the house and filling my Amazon.com shopping cart with used copies of her memoirs.
You may be wondering, Why now? Why Julia Reed?
Meanwhile I'm wondering, Why did it take me so long?
I recognized her name from browsing in bookstores over the years, but she really stuck in my head after my older sister - who has impeccable taste - pointed her out to me. I can still picture the cover art of her books stacked on a display table in Sundog Books in Seaside, Fl. I (foolishly) didn't buy in to them, let alone open them to see what I was missing. Unfortunately, Julia was fighting for a top spot on a long to-read list, which I hardly ever got around to after homework while in school.
Despite my naivety, she managed to regularly resurface in my consciousness upon the arrival of each new issue of Garden & Gun. I had a habit of flipping through the pages from cover to cover, scanning the stories before settling in which to read first - that was until I would see her name in a bold-faced font, usually beside a clever cartoon illustrating the column.
That by-line in itself, printed proudly in one of the most regaling publications, is enough reason for me to give Julia hero-status. I adore her anecdotal stories and Southern ancestry that was woven into her writing style. I feel so connected to her. Not only does she do by profession what I dream of doing, but it was simple other details that made her feel so real to me; her column in the November 2012 issue reflects on her time in her mother's beach house along the scenic 30A Highway in Florida, not far from the aforementioned Sundog Books. Through these little commonalities, no matter how small, helped remind me that maybe Julia and I weren't that far apart either.
And so I resolved to surround myself with her words, in attempts to close the gap. I may be done with college, but I know that my education in writing is forever a learning process. In this self-taught course, I'm creating a syllabus of her writing.
Inside the first delivery from Amazon was a paperback copy of The House on First Street: My New Orleans Story. Not even a chapter in, I had at least a dozen epiphanies - little bursts of excitement over her well-written paragraph, her description of the Gatsby-esque News Orleans parties, fact that her address was once on Bourbon Street, or her romances that were reminiscent of a Southern Carrie Bradshaw, but better. I don't know if Carrie Bradshaw could have weathered Hurricane Katrina the way Julia did.
Since I've never been to New Orleans, the memoir has provided me with an urging desire to visit - and just in time for Mardi Gras season. As I've continued through the book, I had to settle for Cajun dinner at Roux in Rosewell. I have managed to enroll my sister, who first introduced me about Julia, in the "course" as well, after an ordering mix-up brought a second copy of The House on First Street to our home. We've enjoyed reading at our own paces, but together, sharing the epiphanies aloud, with jazz music playing in the background and dreams of voluptuous Mardi Gras balls drifting forefront into our minds.
Last night, I was delighted to see more deliveries had arrived, including The Queen of the Turtle Derby and Ham Biscuits, Hostess Gowns, and Other Southern Specialities. They await eagerly on my nightstand, and the latter includes recipes I will most definitely attempt in order to truly submerse myself. Although you have no idea I exist, I thank you, Julia Reed from the bottom of my Southern heart, for being such an fabulous teacher. The most important lesson yet is that what you are doing, it is possible. Let the education continue.