Blast from the Past

So last night I found my favorite favorite childhood movie on YouTube... the whole thing. WILD HEARTS CAN'T BE BROKEN!!!!!! I was in heaven or maybe just "Atlantic City: Where all you're dreams come true." Not sure if anyone else out there will remember this film, but I think I watched it ten bazillion times. I know for a while it was the only movie my sisters and I would want to rent from the video store. It got so bad that my parents just refused to rent it (or at least that's what I remember)... Grammy on the other hand would always let us rent it when we were visiting. Watching it all over again reminded me how much I loved it. I was a little wary at first... wondered if my honed movie tastes might gag on the syrupy sweetness of the "dream big and it will happen/you'll also meet the man of your dreams" plot, but they so didn't. I think I loved it just as much as I did when I was a kid. I also remembered how much I thought the actor who played Al (Michael Schoeffling, aka "Jake Ryan") was "the bomb" with his perfect 90s bowl haircut and serious, yet charming voice and the whole protector/supporter role. I think he was my first real crush. Wonder what he's doing now? There are so many reasons why I love this movie, but the best one I can think to share is that my sisters and I all loved it. And with five years separating our ages it was kinda a rare thing. Other than that I think I've always been one for movies with a female lead who lives her dreams. I couldn't embed the video, but click here if you want to see one of my favorite scenes in the movie... Sonora's first critical dive in Atlantic city and the proposal.

Just, Margaret

Disclaimer: I do realize this is such a silly post, but sometimes reliving the old days is exactly the thing you need. By the way I am loving the Hitchhiker's Guide Series... just about to finish book 2 of the 5 part trilogy. [smile]

A painted night sky

Its five to nine here in Bristol and the traces of our beautiful sunny Spring day are still visible in the sky.  Its getting darker, but I can still clearly see people walking on the side walk and houses across the street.  I love that we're having so much sun, but without the oppressive heat of a Georgia summer.  This is exactly what I would call perfect "porch weather".  It does wonders for my soul this sun.  One problem:  it makes it hard to think about going to sleep.  And I'm so a full 8 hours girl.  [smile]  Anyway the whole scenario reminded me of this children's book my parents used to read to me.  It was all about a young child who couldn't fall asleep in summer at her appropriate bedtime because the sun was still "awake".  As a solution her parents painted a shade for her window of the night sky, with a star, sliver of a moon, and an owl (or at least that's how I remember it).  I always thought it was so magical that she could just pull down the shade and it would be nighttime.  

I'm so thankful for my childhood.  I always felt so safe and loved.  So many memories I could share... sack swings, a tree house, our little plastic kitchen, Skippy the duck, and Pumpkin the guinea pig.  I should probably write these things down. I'm always telling others, namely my grandparents and other older adults I run into, that they need to preserve their memories for later generations.  Guess I should follow my own advice.  My life as a 25 year old is so future focused, but that I shouldn't take time to reflect about my journey so far.  

I'm still sitting at my desk looking out my window and the sky is considerably darker.  I think its safe to say that night has fallen on Bristol.  The first stars would be visible if I didn't live in the city.  Guess I'll start evening rituals, perhaps read a little, and seek rest and renewal.  Sweet dreams. 

Just, Margaret

Wisdom of The Mews

One of my favorite pastimes is just walking around the streets in Clifton Village, where I live.  Its not a particularly large commercial area, but the shops are all quirky and you never know what you'll find.  I should also clarify that Clifton is the "posh" area of Bristol so mostly I just window shop.  Just a few feet from my front door is a small bridal boutique and each week they change the dress in the window. Some of the dresses I've liked, others I can't imagine ever wearing.  Last week the dress in the window was perfect... simple, understated, and sweet.  In saying all that I know it must sound like I'm one of those girls who when she was little planned out all that day would entail, but I promise I'm not, really.  My little sisters and I used to pretend with our box of dress up clothes and baby dolls, but I can't remember a time when we imagineered a wedding, except maybe between Ken and Barbie.  [smile]  Despite that I must have over the years of watching movies and flipping through family photo albums arrived at some idea of what I might like because looking at the dress I just knew.  

Anyway, all of that is just a way to explain why I happened to find myself in a bridal boutique last week in conversation with the manager.  What was really more significant with the encounter than finding out who designed the dress and the name of the design was the advice the boutique manager imparted.  With my negative response to her question of whether I was shopping with a particular date in mind, she said "just remember that you can't find the perfect man.  We're not perfect so how can we expect them to be."  It was as if she was saying the perfect dress may be attainable, but that's about all I can promise you for your wedding day.  Anyway the whole encounter just struck me as quite unique and the woman to be particularly wise... maybe it was her years of experience with fussy brides.  Like I said, you never know what you'll find while window shopping.

Just, Margaret 

7 things about me...

A friend in the blog world, specifically Dori the writer of From A Yellow House in England, tagged me today with the mission to share 7 things about myself.  Since I could really use a break from grad school reading and actively looking for a distraction I decided that this task could just not wait.  

As for who I'm tagging next I'll leave that up to any of you fellow bloggers out their who would like to share.  So if you are so moved to write 7 things about yourself make sure to leave a comment so I can check it out.  

Here is a brief archaeological study of myself... "Margaret's Materialities (a fancy word for the stuff that makes me me)" 

1.  I have a short list of books that have changed my life and except for one, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter which I haven't had a chance to purchase yet, I carry these books with me wherever I move.  Something about seeing them on a shelf makes me feel like this place is really home.

2.  When I was five I had a tonsilectomy partly because I was getting lots of colds, but another slightly more embarrassing reason was because I snored during nap time in kindergarten.  

3.  Another cherished item I've carried with me from place to place is this small square framed photo of my first Christmas.  I'm being held by my mom and my dad is right next to her.  They're standing in front of a Christmas tree (I think maybe at one of my grandparents' homes).  

4.  I played the flute in marching band for four years during high school and sometimes I still find myself walking in step with other people to this imaginary cadence rolling my feet from heel to toe like I was taught about 10 years ago.  

5.  When I was in elementary school I ran for class president.  I made these amazing posters that kinda looked like a book jacket and cleverly said.  "Margaret Bagwell... Gone with the WIN!"  I don't remember whether I won, but I do remember that my poster weren't particularly discernible by my target populace.  

6. Curiously a side effect of moving to a different country has been that I have begun to eat some of the strangest things.  And it is not what you are thinking... the strange things are not because they are stuff that is distinctly English (although I am trying lots of those kind of foods too).  For example I've been eating peanut butter sandwiches.  In the US for at least 15 years I would not touch a peanut butter sandwich.  I have eaten more of these sandwiches than the whole of my lifetime since moving here.  

7.  One of the reasons I've wanted to study archaeology is that in undergrad when we watched these videos from the 1970s of historical subjects I decided it was my secret ambition to one day be one of the experts that they pan to standing in the midst of some ancient site of historical importance and who then rattles on for 10 or 15 minutes about what makes this place important.

I'm glad that I've learned how to laugh at myself.  Up next in my UK journey will be a trip to Wales to see the "Red Lady."  I'll post some photos later in the week.  Until then...

Just, Margaret

A quarter of a century

A couple of months ago I began a post that I intended to publish on my 25th birthday.  Today when I checked to see what I had written I realized that the answer was nothing, well, except the title that you see above.  Turning twenty-five seemed so big this summer... in fact I think I may have even experienced a mini "quarter life crisis."  Crazy I know, but something about the thought of this birthday was making me reassess what I've done in my life and where I'm going.  Now all of that hoopla feels pretty silly, especially when I consider my circumstances of the moment.  What better way to celebrate the first 25 years of my life than actually spending the year living out my dreams?  Seriously if you were to ask me 10 or 15 years ago what I'd like to be doing right now... I think that my reality (living in a foreign country and studying to be an archaeologist) might come really close to what I would have said.  I can think of no greater personal accomplishment than to be at 25 fulfilling my dreams.  

So that's my treatise for today.  And now as promised a few more photos of me living the dream.    

Day 3 found our group at the seaside.  Our first stop was Combe Martin where I took the lovely photo above and was introduced to stinging nettles while climbing up a steep hill full of brambles in search of the elusive ruins of a castle.  If you're not familiar with stinging nettles check out this post written by my college roommate Jane Marie another exchange student to the British Isles.

Next stop was Lynton and Lynmouth where we took a break from all the archaeological searches and just got to be tourists for a while (which was actually pretty historically accurate for our destination because these towns rose to fame as "exotic" locales for young Englishmen's abbreviated Grand Tours during the Napoleonic wars).  Below is a photo of me and Josephine- a fellow HistArch student and new friend.  

Finally I've included a couple of photos of this crazy lift we rode that connects Lynton, at the bottom and Lynmouth, at the top.  Its run on completely renewable water power.  Basically one cart, without a full load of water, is pulled up while the other cart, filled with water, travels down releasing water as it travels downward.  I'm not sure if I explained that so it can be easily understood.  Maybe this website can help if you are really interested.  The important detail I wanted to express is that this railway lift has been in operation for 120 years, using the exact same system... a fact that I have to admit was a bit unnerving.  But apparently 19th century engineering still works just fine.  We made it up and down without a problem!  More to come.    

Just, Margaret

Sunday 5/11: All Day in the Airport

I've had lots of time to think and reflect today. With a layover in Memphis from 10AMish to 2:30PM-- I'm sure you can imagine what my day has been like. Needless to say I've done quite a bit of exploring. Airports are different from any other human space. Things can happen in airports that don't happen anywhere else. Interactions with people are just different. I can't quite put it in words. Maybe it has something to do with everyone being in transient. Airport terminals are common ground, a neutral zone, no one's home turf. They are definitely one of the best places to people watch. A couple of years ago while in the Athens' (Greece) airport I remember watching this couple say goodbye. So many emotions in such a short gesture.



Back to my day... I have to say that despite the "fun" of the airport my favorite times today have been while I've been in the air. There is something about being above it all -- in the air-- that clears my mind. During my flight from Lafayette for some odd reason I began to remember the story of Amelia Earhart, "a childhood hero." Disappearing in the clouds on the cusp of achieving her dream is so sad, but also really liberating. I'm not sure why Amelia Earhart was a hero. Perhaps it was the pure guts she exhibited with everything she did. Maybe I was just fascinated by her ability to break the barriers impressed upon her because of her gender. I know that the mystery surrounding her death/disappearance added to my desire to know all I could about her. Confession time: When I was in 5th grade I even dressed up like her for a report. Academic over achievement must be in my DNA. The weird thing was that I hadn't thought of Amelia Earhart until today in so long. Wonder what that association means?



This afternoon on a much larger plane to the City, I took in the last glimpses of Memphis as we flew away and experienced that familiar wonder of seeing how small humanity seems from this bird's eye view. I enjoy looking at farm lands best-- the patch work of all the different shades of green and brown. From above divisions seem to disappear and that moment when you are just about too high to see event the insect-sized cars there is a purity like nothing else. Then suddenly you're thrust above out of sight of land and you remember that there is so much more than the small areas where we live and work. The clouds are brilliantly white with shades of grey and blue. Beauty exemplified!



So I guess today taught me that profundity is not something that just is, but must sometimes be waited on. In the big scheme of things four extra hours in an airport really isn't too bad.



Just, Margaret