About A Girl
name : rebecca f. miller campbell
age : 29 / 4 / 102
location : grassy creek, kentucky
occupation: artist, entrepreneur
interests : poetry, art, primitive furniture, chipped paint, photography, music, concert hopping, design, gardening, cooking, preserving food (canning), contemporary poets, paper items, creative organization, nesting, sewing, white spaces, barns, appalachia, DIY.
movies that rock : trainspotting, fight club, reality bites, great expectations, bad santa, old school, the big lebowski, napoleon dynamite, adaptation, dazed & confused, dirty dancing, tigerland, shakespeare in love, amelie, nacho libre, super bad, the dancing outlaw, the golden child, christmas vacation.
music i like : ryan adams, iron & wine, ani difranco, kings of leon, willie nelson, the features, the manchester orchestra, pink floyd, the doors, alice in chains, waylon jennings, tori amos, counting crows, ralph stanley, the black rebel motorcycle club, nancy griffin, emmylou, the black crowes, the frogs, the drive-by truckers, smashing pumpkins, the shins, joni mitchell, janice, john lee hooker.
Bex Box has been around in one form or another since 2001. It began simply as a place to share my poetry & art with those closest to me. I didn’t really expect anyone to find it or to read it. The more I worked on the site, the more interested I became in web design, the more I wanted to share, both the site, with others & myself. I wanted it to just be something bigger. What you are viewing now is the integration of the original Bex Box & my earliest blog, Inside a Girl. I think this blog-style site, will function more smoothly.
I wanted to keep my earliest about me from the original Bex Box; it was the best description of me then. It is the best description of me now, though I’ve moved, added a husband to the mix, begun a brand new adventure & grown in ways that cannot be measured.
This site has taken many shapes and forms since its creation. It was originally a simple place to post my poetry & art–a sudden idea which sprang from a “Well Why Not?” attitude.
What has emerged is this: a tribute to the place, women, men I came from; the little boys & girls who grew up in Eastern Kentucky with a pocket full of dreams & a lifetime of love in each fingertip. The men & women who struggled, fought to survive with dignity intact, relied on faith, gut instinct, turned to God, kept on loving with a love so pure & unselfish. Their children, who are now grown up & struggling to find their place in this world.
I am a product of all the love I’ve experienced or been witness to in 26 years. I am a Southern girl who memorizes moments & feelings & tries to articulate them as best I can so that my history is well documented & my love catalogued. So that no one ever doubts exactly how they made me feel. I am a girl who is in love with living. In love with all the small seemingly insignificant moments that occur every day. That make this life chaotic / messy / moving / beautiful / sorrowful / ugly / extraordinary. I am a girl who lives for words / songs / soft hands on foreheads / conversations that are not spoken. I am moved by grit, by grime, by people who roll up their sleeves & dig into the mess, without worrying about the consequence. I believe we all have the ability to heal. Ourselves & others. I believe we have to choose healing. Everyday. In the smallest of ways. Even if it’s sometimes just reminding ourselves to breathe.
There are pieces of everyone I love inside me. I collect stories & memories in every inch of my skin. I love hard. Because it’s the only way I know how. Because that’s the type of love I’m accustomed to. Because that’s the type of love I’ve received.
I am Mamaw’s doodle eggs. Dottie’s strawberry freezer jam. Marcie’s kindness. Billie’s belief. Joan’s cathead biscuits. Lisa’s chuckle. Andrea’s adventure. Tammy’s downhome persona. Sam’s wit. Beverley’s slip stitch. Marilyn’s childlike perspective. Scott’s loyalty. I am Barbie’s daughter. Junior’s daughter. A product of such intense love, a girl who was placed in the most tender hands during the summer of ‘78. Someone so moved by the people she’s met & cared for–they’ve each become an intricate fiber in the make-up of me.
I am one in an anthology of men and women, boys and girls, believers who were meant to be celebrated & remembered–a girl, plunked down in these hills, trying to get this right–to take in all that I can possibly take in–and at the same time, give all that I can give, in whatever form that may be.