Weirdos Like Me

There was a time a couple of years ago when I was first starting my book, "Telling Hands," that I happened upon a pretty in-depth personality test. Since I was the subject of the book, I thought it research to complete the test. The iPersonic Personality Test takes only a few minutes to take, and it will tell you which of the sixteen Myers Briggs Type Indicators you belong to. I held my usual skepticism while answering the questions, but the results were astonishingly accurate.

The results came back that I was an INFP. The test gives you suggestions on which career you should pursue based upon your personality. It said I should be either a teacher or a writer! I was already a teacher and was working on my first book, so I'd say it was pretty good. I wished then that I had taken the test ten years ago, it would have made the search for a suitable job easier.

Being that I am proficient at research -due to my love of learning- I looked up famous INFPs to get a feel of who would be some-what like me. As it turns out I had already developed a preference for many of the famous INFPs listed. Many of them were authors; George Orwell, J.R.R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, J.K. Rowling, Edgar Allen Poe, Shakespeare, and others. One of the artists listed was my favorite painter Vincent van Gogh. I used to have a copy of "Starry Night" hanging on my wall at the age of fourteen. After my wreck when I was sixteen, I threw away my notebooks of poetry and eventually got rid of the van Gogh print, because I didn't understand it. I couldn't remember the connection.

"Starry Night" Vincent van Gogh

After restoring myself to my former self, (confusing, right?) I also restored the connection to my inner world that, as an introvert, is actually my strength. Publishing a book about my life was possibly the hardest way to start a writing career, but it had to be done. I had to put it all together so I could move forward to write about other things.

I have since started painting. I love it. I have completed three, thus far, and like the writing, it feels right. I have so many ideas of what I want to write, and what I want to paint. INFPs make up only 4% of the population, and even though I don't have many INFP friends, I can read the writings of the great creative INFPs that came before me, and look at Van Gogh's paintings; enjoying the other worlds the weirdos like me have created. I know they aren't really weird, they are just different, and beautiful, but in their own way.


Sincerely,
Jamie Godwin Brooks
Telling Hands

Alabama Pines

I noticed yesterday that Alabama native, Jamey Johnson, released a new song and was giving away free downloads. I've been a fan of Jamey for several years. He has a good first name, he is from Alabama -just down the road from where I live now- and he has a realness about him that comes across in his songs.

The song is "Alabama Pines." You can download it here: http://biggassedrecords.com/collections/download

In a note posted on the site, Johnson writes that "Alabama Pines" is his "love letter to the time and place from whence I came."

I think I know how he feels. I wrote my first book "Telling Hands" thinking along those same lines. My love for my home is one of the themes in the book. I tell about my connection to the land, and her people.

In the book, I recall my grandfather, and how he used to sing us songs. Listed in the book "Telling Hands" are a few of the songs he would sing us, one of which was "In the Pines."

"In the Pines" is a is a traditional American folk song which dates back to at least the 1870s, and is believed to be Southern Appalachian in origin. The identity of the song's author is unknown, but it has been recorded by many artists in numerous genres. Traditionally, it is most often associated with the American blues musician Lead Belly, who recorded several versions in the 1940s, as well as the American bluegrass musician Bill Monroe, who helped popularize the song (in a different variant, featuring lyrics about a train) among bluegrass and country audiences with his versions recorded in the 1940s and 1950. -per Wikipedia

When I listened to Jamey Johnson's "Alabama Pines," I thought about my Paw Paw singing "In the Pines." Oh, how I would love to sit with him on the porch and hear him sing it once more.

Someone I know, who used to be a truck driver and make runs to California all the time, told me once that the best part of going out west was coming back home; that moment when you start seeing the pine trees again.

There's just something undeniably lovely about those pine trees, and the way they sway in the wind.

~ Jamie Godwin Brooks
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KRVTJ9K

The Alabama state tree is the Southern Longleaf Pine.

A Great Gastby Year

The year of 2014 was all very exciting and turbulent. One of the many things I challenged myself to do was look long and hard at "The Great Gatsby." It began at the New Year with curiosity over the Gatsby parties.

Intrigued by, not only the then recent release of the movie, but also of the grandeur of the story. I read the book. I carefully followed the easy flow and roll of Fitzgerald's words as they sank, soaked into my heart.

Following along with the development of the book, over time, I watched the Robert Redford version of the movie. Then, I visited the F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald museum and fell farther for their story. I began to see both F. Scott and Zelda differently. I have noticed that great works of literature are oftentimes misrepresented, if not completely misunderstood. That is a terrible shame, writers write because they have something to say, they spend months or years examining their creation, sometimes to say the truest of words and express the biggest ideas of the world.

I have a true appreciation for the craft and hope I can produce a work as beautiful.
 
Bless Zelda, she was a true gem. I have the sincerest of intentions to read some of her writings in this 2015 year.

But, to get back to the story, I did also watch the 2013 film based on the book. It was amazing. I loved it, and hated it, and it made me believe in the ability to create a story so full of romanticism and truths, real enduring characters, and to have it be appreciated.

Fitzgerald's obituary described him as epitomizing the "sad young men" of that time and that, "The promise of his brilliant career was never fulfilled." http://www.nytimes.com/learning/general/onthisday/bday/0924.html

I have to disagree. "The Great Gatsby" did receive critical acclaim when it was published in 1925, but to create a work that is timeless, that can be enjoyed and loved dearly 90 years later is actually; the epitome of a writer's dream career.

This New Year's Eve, I did attend one of those Great Gatsby parties, with the understanding necessary to live in that world, with the ability to step into the book and dance as if I was alongside Gatsby in the less fashionable West Egg, thus concluding my year of Gatsby, 2014.

Sincerely,
Jamie Godwin Brooks



Here's a few pictures; they kind-of go along with the experience.

Reading "The Great Gatsby" poolside.

Exploring the Fitzgerald's home in Montgomery, AL.



The Great Gatsby New Year's Eve Ball

May Peace Rest Upon You

You are reading my blog, hopefully, you have also read my book, and now we find ourselves together at this year's end. This past year has been full of personal accomplishments and growth. And, as growing pains go, they were accompanied with possibly the appropriate amount of hardships.

This time last year, I was suffering through the editing of Telling Hands. It was a very hard time for me, as a writer, I could see many different roads to take the story down. I sometimes think about how I might write it differently if I were to write the same story today. As we grow, and change, our perspective changes with us, so it might automatically have some differences.

When I finally had combed over the unpublished manuscript enough times to almost drive myself crazy, I had to work up the strength to put it out there. That was hard.

Then, waiting while people read my first book, a sponge that I became water and poured myself into, was equally as challenging. To create art of any form, I believe you have to lose the fear of being wrong. So, I tried to lose the fear and stop limiting myself just for the sake of limiting myself. Hard.

As I look back now with my 20/20 vision, I can see where I could've done a few things differently in the liberating of myself of my first 32 years. But, I am thankful for the lessons it has brought me. Everyday is a learning experience, and everyday I am thankful for being on God's earth. I am thankful for my family, and friends; you.

As you may know, I have bought a gas-station. I am giving it a slash and making it a gas-station/bait shop. I had never been a business woman really, but I do admire them. True to form, I jumped in head long and have been learning the many lessons only owning a small business can teach you, as I go. That has been fulfilling work, because of the support I have been given.

Also, I was included in the filming of a movie. That was very exciting for me. To quote the short description on their facebook page, Woodlawn is:

A film based on an inspiring real-life story about love and unity in a school torn by racism and hate in the 1970s.

That was the perfect film for me to support, a film about Alabama, Alabama football, love, and unity, so I am thankful for the opportunity to be involved. My little role didn't have any lines, but when you watch the big scenes at the game located at Legion Field, you may see me. And, some of the prom scenes will likely have a familiar chaperone in a blue-ish dress. So, that's awesome.

And now, to turn and look at the upcoming year in 2015, I can say that I hope it is less hard, but I predict now it will be full of changes. I am hammering out the details of my new book, and given that it is my second, it should be easier. The store I have bought is ready to start the process of making it pretty, which will be fun. If I get the chance to be in another movie, I will take it. That was all really amazing.

I may or may not continue to write poetry. I don't have much use for it. I did enjoy painting very much though, and I will continue that. I will write more books, and have ideas of writing ones that will be less intense that my first two have been. Thank God.

I hope to do some travelling at some point in the next year or two. As a memoir writer, I find the "Eat, Pray, Love" story interesting. I would like to do my own version of travelling the world. Of course, I have different places picked out, and I hope not to ever write about it. I have done enough of writing about my life. :)

If in this growth, I have neglected anyone's friendship, I hope they will please forgive me. I have been somewhat of a mess this year. My family and I had to say good bye to my grandmother, Darris. And, I still have all the everyday challenges like sickness and laundry. It has taken up much of my time and this growth has spread me a little thin.

Let us always focus on the positive, and be courageous for the new year. May peace find you, and rest upon you in this season. Pick the greeting you want... Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Season's Greetings, Happy Holidays.


Jamie Godwin Brooks

I Was Lost, Now I'm Found

If you know me personally, or if you read my book, Telling Hands, you are aware of the near fatal car accident I was in when I was a teenager.  If you haven't read it, go ahead and do yourself a favor and get a copy. In the last chapter, I say:

"I have learned many things about myself now that I am thirty-two, marking the sixteenth anniversary of my near-fatal car accident when I was just sixteen."

That day was actually a couple weeks ago, on Thanksgiving Day of this year. Driving the same route, to eat the same Thanksgiving Dinner with my family, crossing the same Fateful Crossroads, I looked more than twice at the intersection.

I informed my friends on facebook that I had arrived at my Grandmother's house this year. It felt good, and the meal was as delicious as it ever has been. We managed to get by without any drama, which is always a plus when you go home to see family.

A couple days later, I received an email. It was from someone that had heard of my book, and was surprised to see that I was alive. His last memory of me was lying in a pool of my own blood, just moments after the wreck. After catching up a little, he sent me his account of the event. I sobbed as I read his words. He gave me permission to share them with you.

"For some reason that is a bad location, and there are wrecks there all the time. I remember I was going back into the store from pumping gas (we had to pump gas for people back then) and I heard the tire and the loud boom. I turned around and the second I saw the little grey Pontiac Sunfire I knew right then it was you. I ran out as fast as I could and there were screeching tires and cars everywhere. As I got to your car you were in the floor board of the car with blood everywhere. For some reason I remember seeing a grey Fyffe hoodie in the car as well. I thought you were dead. I tried to open the car door and it wouldn't open. Then someone grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back and I took one last look at you and then the car was swarmed with people. I stayed back because I can't handle seeing that, especially someone I knew. The police and ambulance got there and made everyone stay back. I tried forever to find out what I could about you but no one knew anything. I left that job and have never forgotten the sight of you in that car that day. Like I said I apologize if this freaks you out."

This old friend of mine, whom, due the accident, I can only barely remember, thought I was dead. For sixteen years, he had this image of me in his head. I was lost. Lost to myself, and most certainly lost to him. In the writing of the story, I found myself, and in the sharing of it, he found me. We will, without a doubt, stay in touch this time.

I was lost, but now I am found.

Jamie Godwin Brooks
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KRVTJ9K

Fateful Crossroads

Beautiful Scars

Lets talk about scars.

Scars are usually considered ugly. You become self-conscious about it, and want to cover it up. You sometimes wish it would go away.

But the scars are proof of life. Living life is beautiful; don't ever hide your scars.

Whether they are on our body, like the scar on my forehead I got when the little wagon I was riding in turned over, and I hit a rock in my cousin's driveway...

Or the scars on our hearts.

In my book, "Telling Hands," I talk about the struggles of life and how they can leave their mark on you. I say that my heart is as "scarred as the Alabama terrain." If you've driven down the roads in Alabama you understand. You can see where tornadoes have left their mark in the trees that have been chopped off or blown down.

Our scars, in part, make us who we are, they show that we can get knocked down, we can get hurt, and most of all WE CAN HEAL.

Be proud of your life, be proud of your scars. They stay with you, like the lessons in life. You heal and learn and move on.

 

~Jamie

 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KRVTJ9K

This is a selfie I took the other day. The point of the Instagram was that the sun was right in my eyes... but the first thing I saw when I looked at the pic was the scar on my forehead.

 

Feeling Alive in this Hella Crazy World

Hey. This morning, as I was singing a song I had just made up about chocolate, I remembered another song I made up this past Saturday about being a short girl. I had never given much thought into to how often I make up songs. I think it's pretty often. When I was just a child, playing with my cousins, we would make up songs and perform them to our rather large family.. I can't help myself. I just have to create.

It makes me feel alive.

I draw sometimes, even though I am not very good at it. I can't really sing, but that doesn't stop me. I had never even tried painting before, but last week I painted my first portrait. I loved it so much, I had to write a poem to accompany it.

I noticed that I had an empty part on a wall in my creative space that needs a little more Jamie, so I proudly hung it up there.

My creative space used to be our formal dining room, but a couple years ago, I realized I do more creative, weird things than dine formally, so it I gave it a makeover. It is now filled with hundreds of books, pictures, drawings, notes, and odd objects, such as; a snake-skin, some bull horns, my homemade staff, a beaver-chewed tree limb, my fake glasses, a piece of stained glass from NOLA, decorative birds, things for burning...you know, things I like. I have some knives in here and my whet stone.

 I feel most at home when I surround myself with the weird things that inspire me.

I think there's also supposed to be some important documents hidden in here somewhere. I'm not sure...

I've always been this way, I don't think I'll change. When I finish the book I am working on, I'll write another, and when I finish the store I am working on, I'll do something else. Whether I win the poetry contest I recently entered or not, I'll write more poetry. If I totally fail singing karaoke for the first time on a date I have planned soon, I'll keep on singing.

If you have a true love, it will find an outlet. Mine is being creative, and it has to come out, sometimes in the most surprising of ways.

I love my brain. This has been a random thoughts about things moment, brought to you by:

Jamie Godwin Brooks

ps. I am on twitter @jgodwinbrooks, and instagram (link at top) and facebook https://www.facebook.com/JamieGodwinBrooks?pnref=lhc. Look me up. Let's share about our crazy lives in this hella crazy world.