This weekend I went to Kansas City to visit the Art institute there. It was beautiful. It was weird though because as odd as it sounds I kept thinking about “the Awakening” in sort of a more personal way. For example, when my plane took off I definitely was imagining the same feeling Edna felt when she escaped into the water. Sure, it wasn’t as freeing as water, actually being cramped in the plane was quite the opposite, it was still leaving a town I was so tired of being. Kansas City Art Institute was, to an extent, my sea. With its emerging art and galleries, studio space, shopping, and its power and light district it was defiantly and awakening for me. Edna realized that she didn’t like how everyone in her town just followed the typical relationship between men and women. She experimented with different behaviors and ideas. Her society did not agree so she left. Now, I’m not saying that Alpharetta is not wonderful and a good place to live. But I crave variety and learning from others. So when I walked into Kansas City and saw all the different artists and types of buildings and all of this thriving art I loved it. It was like a form of medicine. I needed that inspiration and now, coming back here, I’ve realized that I love weirdos. You know, those people that Alpharetta people see and automatically think “oh no… don’t talk to them.  They look freaky.”  Those are my people; kind, good-hearted weirdo’s who all have some communal goal.

I feel that Edna’s awakening was the same type of thing. She hated the way Adele just catered to her families every need and how, like every other female, she was expected to have a perfect dinner ready and take care of the kids as the husband just goes out all of the time. It is like how in Alpharetta or just high school in general there is so much pressure to excel in math and science and art is sort of just skipped over. Seeing an art school made me realize that what I do is indeed important and that was extremely comforting. I think Edna was trying to find the comfort or freedom in not being tied down.

Also, on the plane I tried to read Love in the time of cholera. It was terrible, mostly because I do not like ooey- gooey love. Can you suggest a super depressing book please? Something raw or painstakingly heart breaking?