see as i saw

There are some days when my lens doesn't quite capture the awe-inducing subjects that I hope for.  At first, I feel a little guilty and lazy about it.  Then I remember that I have posted at least one photo every day for five months.  My Droid is bogged down with over 1,000 photos at this point.  My eyes roam constantly now, staying alert for colors, angles, opportunities.

Today's possibility for inspiration was squelched by the return of nearly winter weather.  Despite the fact that I thoroughly enjoy getting outside for at least a walk every day, today felt more suited for house arrest.  I made it as far as my mailbox, then detoured to the bike room for this exceptionally uninspired photo.  So, it was an off day.  I'll attempt to do better tomorrow.

I thought it might be nice to pay homage to the sunny blue skies before the cold and rain regain their foothold tomorrow.  Luckily, I have a writing gig that demands completion tomorrow.  The forecast promises that I won't have to turn away from my computer screen and look longingly out the window.

There seems to be a slight momentum coming my way as this month wraps up and the next begins.  Whether it's a temporary surge remains to be seen.  In essence, I feel as though I'm on the brink of figuring something out or discovering the crack that leads to an "a-ha!" moment.  I can feel myself (metaphorically) leaning over the edge of a precipice, arm outstretched as far as it can go, just barely shy of reaching that coveted and unknown object.  All it needs is a little push, or perhaps on unorthodox approach to problem solving, to get it into my hands.

Yes, this is all a bit abstract.  Somehow, I just feel like something pivotal will happen soon; I'm ready and waiting to coax it along.

Disclaimer: Instagram makes this photo look way more ominous than it really is.

After sweeping myself away to the great outdoors for a couple quick days, I'm back to my urban dwelling.  This photo felt like an emphatic way to stamp where I've returned to, a direct juxtaposition to where I was.

Sometimes I feel like I tap into an entirely differently side of my mind when I cross that state border.  I would liken it to the way that a Southern drawl might soften after living in the north.  Then that individual returns to their roots for a visit and suddenly they're laying it on thick again.  Only my inner Michiganian manifests itself through country radio stations and a strong inclination to drive down dirt roads.

Therein lies most of the reason that my ultimate job would allow me a wide berth in terms of flexibility.  I feel like there are so many places in not only this region or country that I belong, but in the world.  Although I could attempt to keep a job for nine months, then travel for three, it seems more logical to create a foundation with a career that allows me geographic flexibility.  Maybe someday I'll be ready to own a house and call one city my own, but right now I'm still in the midst of a wanderlust phase.

No matter where I go in this world, there are remnants of Michigan in my blood.  When summer hits, those remnants become more potent and I can feel the pull.  As much as I appreciate and enjoy patio dining and street festivals in Chicago, there is something about beach towns and fresh "country" air.  Hearing Tim Allen's voice narrating odes to Pure Michigan may drive the point home, too.  Although I generally find myself eschewing advertising's effects on my attitudes and preferences (only natural when you spend six years study how to break down and analyze it), michigan.org did it right.

One interesting side of effect of the zero income status is learning how to be more efficient with what you buy and more industrious with what you already have.  The efficiency lesson started in Costa Rica, although the lower cost of living simplified it.  My weekly grocery total was negligible.  In the city, you have to put in a more concerted effort.

The cost efficiency juggling doesn't really thrill, but I do find some enjoyment in being industrious with whatever I have on hand.  You know those times when you rout through the cupboards and refrigerator claiming that there's nothing to eat?  I've found that a little creative thinking, generally accompanied by some Googling, reveals that there are several ways to mix and match what you have.  Sometimes those experiments come out surprisingly well, other times I'm less than impressed.  In an effort to not be wasteful, I eat them anyways.

I've also been taking standard household goods that are either collecting dust in my storage unit or derive from the packaging of some food item and upcycling them.  I have a mail collector made from a picture frame, sans glass, and some fabric.  The pen holder on my desk is a glass salsa jar with the label removed.  Shoeboxes are an old standby, but now I'm planning to up the visual appeal and create some uniformity by covering them in a neutral fabric.

Do I want to return to the world of not fretting over every cent that I spend?  Sure.  But I also appreciate this unintended life lesson that I ran myself into.

I have this idyllic notion of a work day as one where I sit on a patio, enveloped by sun and warm air, sipping an iced coffee.  That doesn't seem like too irrational of an expectation; I'm even willing to tolerate only moderately comfortable outdoor furniture.  In an effort to find a local coffee establishment to match my criteria, I engaged in a little web wandering.  At one point, Google informed me that some of Chicago's very own Starbucks are soon to be engaged in a concept test.  Alcohol.

The particular patio that I was eyeing is in the process of obtaining a liquor license, while the second location is still under construction.  Not only will the latter store serve beer and wine, but it's also intended to be a flagship store.  I'm not sure what characteristics define a flagship Starbucks, but they had me sold on the idea of a second-story balcony seating area.  I'm unequivocally in favor of outdoor seating options, especially those that don't place me twelve inches from the curb of a traffic-laden city street.

What I haven't quite decided on is whether I'll feel inclined to visit my barista during the morning and my sommelier in the same place during the evening.  Although, I suppose it has a certain Euro appeal to it.  If they're pouring $3.50 venti-sized pinot noirs, though, I'm sold.

It's funny how sometimes the things that I was so emphatically disdainful of as a child become the ones that I wax nostalgic about as an adult.  My parents bought their first house when I was four years old.  From day one they took a great measure of pride, and joy, in maintaining their investment - inside and out.  In late spring, it went without saying that my family became a makeshift landscape crew.  Mission: Curb Appeal.

Weeds were plucked, perennial shrubs were trimmed, annuals were planted, trailer upon trailer full of mulch was shoveled and spread.  Landscaping was no small thing at our house, where my parents edged out at least four major flower beds each year.  I loathed this particular weekend.  And it wasn't only for those couple days of manual labor.  An unwanted expectation existed whereby my summer vacation consisted of watering, trimming and plucking to care for those plants.  (The length of a daily chore lists was no joke in my family.)

Although I wouldn't have admitted it then, there were two parts of landscape duty that secretly thrilled me.  Without fail, I joined the nursery trip each year.  I relished the hour spent perusing all of the plant and flower varieties, mentally earmarking my favorites.  My mom had her standbys: pansies, begonias, phlox, daylilies.  But I also knew that she would let me have a say in the matter.  Most times I was allowed to pick a plant of my choice, other times I weighed in on the variety or color of something she already chosen.

Part two of my secret satisfaction came in laying out the landscape design.  My left brain was attracted to exacting the spacing between plants and creating an even diffusion.  My right brain fussed with color combinations, shapes and curves in the planting space, and essentially creating floral artwork.  After all of the dreamy planning work was completed, I would have gladly let everyone else crouch down and do the planting.  Instead I sucked it up (with only minor complaining, I'm sure) and worked at a rate of about 30% productivity.

All of this came back to me today when I caught a glimpse of the landscape crew at the park next to the zoo.  Even when it's overrun by sugar-high, post-zoo kids, the benches in that garden are one of my favorite places to relax in the summer.  It's mainly due to the extraordinary landscaping.  I had half a notion to sit in the park and watch them plant flowers this morning.  Instead, I decided to stop myself after a couple casual photos of their flower flats.

I know, I know.  A large portion of my photos are floral-based.  Let's just call it one of my girlier traits and move on.

In an effort to be prepared at a moment's notice, should the perfect job opportunity spring up in front of, I took a little time to bring my resume up-to-date.  Essentially, that meant assigning a January 2012 end date and adding a "Freelance" heading.  Being naturally inquisitive, I thought that I'd engage in a little Googling before writing out my freelance section.  How do that HR and resume professionals in internet land believe you should position independent work situations.

As it turns out, most of them told me that terms like "freelance", "contract" and "independent" are red flags.  Most people use them as gap fillers, while it indicates a penchant to start a solo enterprise for others.  I suppose that both of those could be fair assessments.  On my resume, though, freelance indicates a need to still be involved in a productive activity while exploring my options.  It is a means of continuing to grow while ensuring that I ultimately make the best decision for my future.  In my opinion, the time I spend freelancing shouldn't qualify me for the slush pile of resumes.

At the end of the day, I'll be so bold as to say that any company relegating me to that pile based on several months of working freelance isn't the type of company that will understand and appreciate what I have to offer.  So, my resume now proudly waves its freelance flag.

Correction to yesterday's post: I have actually read 7.25 books from the Top 30 list.  Although that seems to be a menial difference, it's actually rather considerable.  That's 300 fewer pages that I have to conquer before the end of the year.

As long as I'm on the topic of conquering, I started a new quest today: teaching myself basic coding skills.  Yes, by "coding" I mean web development.  It seems like a win from every angle; my resume will benefit not only from listing it as a skill, but a self-taught skill, and Codecademy is free.  The likelihood of retaining everything that the tutorials are teaching is still up for debate, but worst case scenario is that I'll be better able to understand the code that I mess around with while designing my blogs.

There are slightly more than two hours for me to pull the trigger on yet another quest.  Groupon has an online language training deal posted until midnight.  For six months of unlimited access, the cost is only $49.  Seems like a great deal; they're calling it 95% off retail.  Skepticism is inhibiting me from acting, though.  Independent customer reviews of this program are non-existent.  Their website is extremely cookie cutter and doesn't give me a sense of security.  As much as I would love to renew my focus on Spanish, my gut tells me that over 1,000 people just got conned.  So, it's still a viable quest, I just need to find a different route.

These days, I have so much time to let my mind run wild that I keep coming up with ideas and promptly forgetting about them.  Sometimes it's a job or business idea.  Other times it's a project I want to work on.  It can also be a topic I want to write about.  Of course, there's also the list of things I want to learn or accomplish. I try to write them down, but sometimes I'm convinced that I'll remember the idea later.  That's rarely how it works.

So, to throw a light on one of those many noted and forgotten goals and ideas: I want to attack the list of 100 novels that everyone should read.  Clearly there will be differentiation from one list to another.  From what I can find, the most "official" list comes from the Modern Library board.  Listed alongside the board's list is the reader's list (check out both lists here).  I'll warn you that sifting through these lists is an easy way to feel inadequate.  I'm an avid reader and even love classic literature.  My final tallies: 10% of the board's list completed and 13% of the reader's list.

When comparing the lists, they have only 30 novels in common.  That indicates the top 30, in my opinion.  I already have seven (only seven?!) of those under my belt.  Well, maybe 6.25 - I'm in the midst of reading Of Human Bondage now.  So, those other 23 will be my starting point.  There are 31ish weeks left in 2012, so my mission is to have the top 30 checked off before the calendar year changes.  I suppose that means I'll have to become friends with the Chicago Public Library again (and make good on the $0.31 in overdue charges still lingering).

In all honesty, I have never been one of those people who wishes they could go back to high school days.  Actually, I spent most of the time I was there counting down the days until I left.  There's no singular reason for my impatience and lack of fond regard, high school just wasn't a scene that I was generally interested in.

Something that I've realized about those years that I do miss is the sports, both playing and spectating.  Tennis gave me a mission and a focus, during the on- and off-season periods.  There were practices and meets five days a week, sometimes weekend tournaments, and I enjoyed being around my tennis "family".  Although I did generally spend Friday nights at varsity football games, I was more of a soccer girl.  I befriended soccer moms, traveled for games, and sat through cold and rain.  During my freshman and sophomore years, I was there for JV and varsity games.  Hard core.  Plenty of time was spent at basketball games and boys tennis meets, too.  Sometimes I dabbled in baseball and wrestling fandom.

Sure, I could go to professional sporting events or even minor league games to fill my sports void.  Oh, and I hear ESPN is a really good source.  A couple things though: game tickets aren't necessarily all that cheap (making frequency of attendance an issue) and I don't know the people on the field, court, etc.  Regardless of my general feelings about the high school experience, I was in full support of my classmates' efforts when they were competing.  I took pride in their victories.  Perhaps this is why people have kids and enroll them in sports; it's probably the next best thing.

 Sometimes the universe hands you days that are so beautiful that you can't help but make concessions.  Friday was meant to be a productive day, and it was until noon.  Then my book and I found a park bench in the sun.  Today made such a valiant effort to be better than yesterday that I felt obliged to partake in another act of indulgence.  There's something about summertime weather that calls for a margarita.  And when you have a margarita, you might as well throw in some enchiladas.

I have lived in Chicago for nearly three and a half years, and I'm always wondering how I can live so close to Lake Michigan and not know anyone with a boat.  There were so many watercraft just pining away in their slips today, unused and unloved.  Don't boat owners know that there are people like me who would love to extend much needed attention to their expensive toys?  Do you think there's any potential in a service that's like dog walking, except you take people's boats out for a spin?  If not, then I guess I'll continue to be a failure at having a friend (or even an acquaintance) with a boat.

Since the beginning of 2012, I have put a lot of time into exploring and learning as a means of seeking my next life destination.  That means not only internal reflection, but also consulting an array of external experiences and written material - books, articles, blogs, etc.  Today I ran across a blog that's associated with a book.  This book happened to make some headlines, so perhaps you've heard of it: The 4-Hour Work Week.

I didn't wade through a lot of the original content, but I was struck by a stats page.  It broke down the average number of vacation days taken in a year, U.S. vs. the world.  Being at the bottom of the list was expected, but the actual difference was a bit mind-boggling:
Italy - 42
France - 37
Germany - 35
Brazil - 34
Britain - 28
Canada - 26
Japan - 25
USA - 13

Something else that I continually circle back to in my quest for a next step is a desire for flexibility.  I have whims (no surprise there) that make a cubicle feel like a cage.  If only I could have the freedom and be trusted to manage my daily workload from outside the confines of the office environment when I needed wanted to.  There was another set of stats on The 4-Hour Work Week blog that spoke to this new-fangled concept.  Although they're somewhat dated, I would guess that the general trend still applies.

At the end of 2007, Best Buy HQ converted all 4,000 employees to a "Results-Only Work Environment".  Work no longer defined a physical place, but rather a task that you perform (as it should be).  The basis for performance was output instead of hours.  Employees now worked wherever and whenever they wanted.  What was the outcome?

There was a 35% rise in productivity, compared to figures from 2005.  The average change in quitting across all divisions was -72.3%!  People stopped quitting their job when they were given more freedom AND they became more productive.  So, I guess it just gives me hope.

Usually I turn right on the Lakefront Path, because the beach and lake views don't disappear.  I decided to finally give into the left turn and was graciously rewarded.  I make no secret of my love for the scent of lilacs; who needs roses.  Multiple rows of lilac bushes qualified this as a grove, in my opinion.  It seems I wasn't the only camera wielding Chicagoan that was smitten either.

I also spent a little time in the park, just me and a Coelho book basking in the sunshine.  That is until a toddler approached my bench.  I said hello, expecting her to toddle by or be swept up by a parent momentarily.  Nope.  She climbed up next to me and smiled like we were old friends, started spewing gibberish and giggling.  I helped her figure out how to set her bottle down so it didn't tip, she reached for my apartment keys.  Finally dad appeared with the stroller and parked himself two feet in front of us.  Interestingly, he didn't sweep her up and rush away (I suppose that means I don't look threatening?).  I played a couple rounds of word recognition with the kid.  (She got "keys" correct, but called my book a "rock"...)

There's a point to this story, beside the fact that a dad let his baby interact with a random girl in the park. I found myself slightly envious of her unworried, free-spirited nature.  She had no qualms walking right up and interacting with me.  There was no over-analyzing, no fear of rejection or awkwardness.  When she saw something of mine that interested her, she didn't stop herself from being inquisitive.  Obviously we give more concessions to a two-year-old who is just discovering the world.  I probably would've been less supportive of a 40-year-old woman acting the same way.  So, my question here is: when does it stop being seeming socially acceptable to approach people without invitation and insert yourself into their day?  What is the dividing line between innocent and invasive?

You know how there's that sort of unwritten Law of Target?  As in, you drop by Target to run in and grab laundry detergent, then you stumble out $100 poorer?  Somehow I tend to skirt that law pretty well.  My weakness, though,  is Meijer's grocery section.

After three years of doing my daily/weekly grocery shopping in Chicago-sized stores, I nearly go weak in the knees when those automatic doors open and I behold the masses of spacious Meijer aisles.  Have you seen how long the cereal aisle is?  I can't help myself from putting one thing in my cart because I can never find it in Chicago, then another thing in my cart because I never see a price that low.  Then I reach the produce section; prices are a non-entity.  Needless to say, my fridge looks like a fruit market right now.

Urban grocery shopping, you will never win me over.  Sorry.  My heart and stomach belong to Meijer.

Writing often uses metaphor to make an abstract concept more tangible for readers.  Actually, the average person does the same thing.  The difference comes in implementation: writers create full-blown articles and books to get the point across, everyone else is more likely to choose from a well-stocked history of metaphorical phrases.  On a bike ride with my Dad this afternoon, I had a case of writer's mind.  I spent the entire ride create a metaphor revolving around life and a bike ride.

I think that I'm going to write it out in more detail, even if I do nothing more than keep it to myself.  The basic starting point came to me as we coasted down the first big hill today.  I thought about how much I loved that feeling of flying as a kid.  There was no regard for the things that run through my head now: keep your hand close to the brake, watch for cars, avoid lose gravel on the curve.  That directed my thought process toward a broader, related consideration.  Do I approach everything that should be a pleasurable aspect of my life with this same reticence?  How much does that dilute the enjoyment?  And is it a bad thing to be realistic and prepared?

From there, my mind start to mull the obvious comparison of the ups and downs in life to the uphills and downhills on a bike.  There were tangential thoughts about pain, challenge, appreciation, detours and so on.  I should include a disclaimer here that bike rides in my family aren't short, leisurely spins around the neighborhood.  My Dad knows where to pick out long inclines and steep hills that make it feel more like interval training.

My parents are big on taking a daily walk.  When I'm home, it's pretty much an unwritten rule that I'll be joining them.  Seeing as I've tried to fit in my own daily walks for the past four months, this works out pretty handily.  Unlike me, they tend to do the same route every day, cutting through neighborhoods, treelines and a golf course.  Today I learned about a new tactic they've employed to keep their walks interesting.

I've taken to calling it "scavenger hunt bocce golf".  Once they hit the golf course segment of the walk, they start searching in the trees for misdirected golf balls (scavenger hunt).  From that point until they hit the main road again, they alternate turns choosing targets and see who can toss the golf ball closest (bocce golf).  They've been doing this long enough that they have personal favorite targets that present challenges: toss the ball over a green space, bounce it in a parking lot, then clear the height of a retaining wall to hit a tree.

They also have a collection of at least 100 golf balls in their garage now.  It looks like joy really can be found in the simple things.

Today's "yes" activity: judging figure skating.  Why do I call this a "yes" activity?  Because it's something completely unfamiliar to me, something you could feasibly assert that I'm unqualified to do (since I've never been a skater).  Instead of using this as rationale to practice avoidance and stay rooted to my comfortable, well-worn path, I said...yes.  Instead of stressing over the shift out of equilibrium, I'm figuring a lot of it out as I go.

During the course of my day, I had an interesting conversation with an older woman also taking part in the judging festivities.  She asked me about my job, so I unraveled the abridged version of my recent life story.  She brought it up again during our next break.  First, she said, "You're going to go back to Costa Rica; I know it.  And you'll go for at least six months.  I think you'll end up in a beach town and the opportunity you're looking for will be there waiting for you."  For good measure, she then informed me that she has some psychic abilities.  Odds are that I just have way more light in my eyes when I say "Costa Rica" than when I mention "cubicles".  But, hey, who am I to say that she didn't catch a glimpse of my future? :)

Also, I may have eaten about two tons of food, graciously provided by the lovely skater parents.  Unfortunately, that makes me ready to crawl into a food coma for the next three days.  Thus, I bid you adieu.

 This morning I received one of the many types of weekly emails sent out by LinkedIn.  It was pointing me toward top news articles, one of which was titled "The Six Enemies of Greatness (and Happiness)".  I decided to bite and clicked my way over to Forbes.com to read it.  The article was short, sweet and to the point.  At the end, they proposed that you participate in their survey: Which do you think is the biggest obstacle of the six?

From my own battles to uncover happiness (and maybe some greatness, too), I could've named the culprit without the list.  Comfort...a.k.a. the rut.  Apparently the general survey-taking public was in agreement with me.

Clearly I took a big step out of my comfort zone when I left the conventional cubicle world for international traipsing.  I was proud of myself, because even though it was the best decision for me, it wasn't easy at any point in time.  Yet, I may be even more proud of myself now.  It would've been so easy to come back from that and give in to the allure of traditional comfort.  Instead, I'm keeping my focus on the reasons I left it in the first place and trying to find the right direction.

Being uncomfortable is not always easy, but it also isn't half bad.

This may not get your heart pumping or be the slightest bit exciting, but I spent all day in anticipation of this delivery.  The book fairy (a.k.a. USPS via Amazon.com) left me three indulgent treats.  Perhaps I mentioned this little online shopping trip at the end of last week?  Followed by an anecdote about my family trips to Borders?  Ok, well I have one more book-related tidbit.  Then I'm done...maybe.

There's a good chance that it was just me, and maybe a few classmates, but I considered elementary school book orders to be an occasion.  You better believe that my eyes scanned every single one of those little blurbs and my writing utensil was immediately making circles.  I could barely walk in the door after school before I was bargaining with my Mom, trying to convince her that I actually NEEDED all of those books.  I don't recall ever getting away with more than two at a time.  Apparently libraries were supposed to fill the void.

Earlier this week, I saw an article about Justin Bieber graduating high school.  (Stay with me, this is actually related.)  It included a comment about how he's done things in his life like travel the world, but school makes you do things like reading and writing...and he's not really into that.  At that moment in time, it pained me that he could be considered a role model.  I have also traveled to many places in the world, but I still place extremely high value on reading and writing in my life.  Then again, maybe this is another one of those occasions where it's just me.

Final thoughts on reading for today.  I really wish that I knew how many books I had read in my lifetime.  Unfortunately, that seems fairly impossible.  It's plausible that I could manage to track back most of the books I've read thus far in 2012.  So, I'm adding that to my 2012 agenda: book timeline.

It's like Christmas morning every time I open the Travelzoo Weekly Top 20 email.  But then someone tells me that I can't play with any of the toys.  My travel dreams are kind of the large and constant type.  And I don't really make an effort to deter that.

Over the past couple of days, I've spent more than an ample amount of time digging into a blog/website called The Art of Non-Conformity.  The writer, Chris Guillebeau, is a world traveler.  Seriously, by this summer he will have visited every country in the world.  Beyond that, though, he's the type of guy that just embodies pretty much everything I've been feeling but hadn't yet connected.  I get him.  He has helped set my mind back in motion.  He's the first to say that his message and methods aren't for everyone, but the people that get it...GET IT!  It didn't hurt that I ran across Ayn Rand and Paulo Coelho quotes on his site.

Perhaps what I find most interesting is that I've actually read a post on Chris's site before, about two years ago.  It was passed to me by a friend who apparently knew me better than I knew myself.  The post was titled, "Why You Should Quit Your Job and Travel Around the World".  I didn't quite make it around the world, but I did quit my job and move to Costa Rica for a month.  I don't recall revisiting that post after the initial reading, but I've had it bookmarked in a folder called "Happiness" since that day.  As fate (and a pretty specifically worded Google search) would have it, I was reunited with The Art of Non-Conformity this week.  We're getting along famously, thus far.

Clearly I have some supernatural connection to Mother Nature.  After voicing my displeasure yesterday regarding recent weather conditions, I woke up to a blue sky this morning.  I didn't even hit snooze, just popped out of bed and made my way out into the sunshine for some exercise.  Can I get another one of those tomorrow?

Switching gears.  I think it would be interesting for someone to do a study on my non-verbal cues and determine which ones compel strangers to approach me.  Whether it's a populated coffee shop, a busy intersection, or a crowded store (sometimes even in foreign countries), people will approach me to ask for directions, assistance, or a watchful eye on their belongings while they use the restroom.  Perhaps I look innocent?  Trustworthy?  Approachable?  But is it something about my facial expressions?  The way I dress?  An air of possessing knowledge?  See, I have so many questions!  That's why I need a study.  At the end of the day, it could just be that I have an coincidental ability to be in close proximity to people who need assistance.  Today someone also came up to me and asked if I was Karen.  Close.  He had the last three letters right.

I'd like to formally lodge a complaint with the universe regarding the cold, gray and rain.  I want to spend time outside!  Also, the outdoors is my substitute gym membership.  It's difficult to use when everything is soggy and drab.  Ok, enough of that.

You know what I'm rather excited about?  Injecting a little Pure Michigan into my life, in the form of a long weekend.  I'll be keeping things interested with a grab bag of activities: organizing a craft room, judging figure skating, engaging in the loud madness of a family gathering, trying out some vino with Dad, and even spending quality time with my favorite Wolverine.  Yet, I fully intend to find some quiet time with nature during the lulls.  I miss seeing stars at night and getting lost in my own mind while walking in the woods.

There's a couple that lives on my floor, probably around 60 years old.  He's from Australia and always addresses me as "love", probably because he doesn't really know or remember my name.  Anyways, nice people.  I ran into him at the elevator today, loading up some lumber and stuff.  We chatted about the project he had worked on all day and I mentioned how I grew up in a project-oriented home.  Long story short, he said it sounds like he'd really get along with my dad.

I started thinking about how I hear similar statements all the time: "I think I'd love your mom" or "Your parents sound fun".  This led me to surmise two things.  First, it's not surprising that my parents have so many friends and social invites; even miscellaneous strangers think they sound more than alright.  Second, I must think they're more than alright, too...seeing as I'm clearly finding plenty of time to talk them up to these miscellaneous people.  I will not, however, start carrying photos of them in my wallet as visual support for my stories.

While many people spent the day celebrating a "holiday" (that Mexico doesn't even recognize) with margaritas or import beers, I reconnected with an old love.  Starbucks Frappuccino.  There were several factors that converged to lead me there:

1) I haven't visited a Starbucks since redeeming a free birthday beverage
2) A tempting new Frappuccino that sounded like just my chocoholic style
3) Half price happy hour special on said Frappuccino
4) Gift card from Grandma to pay for my caloric overload

Since I was splurging, I figured it was time to go all out.  I completely skipped over the those non-fat, sugar free options for my delightful mocha concoction.  Did I mention that it was topped with chocolate whipped cream and cookie crumbles?  Mmm.  (This post is not a paid endorsement, but I'd be willing to accept free beverages from Starbucks if they offered :)

Nothing like living in the Midwest, segueing from 85 degrees and humid yesterday to 60 and breezy today.  Despite heat, humidity or rain, I have urged myself to work out four days in a row.  I couldn't actually tell you the last time that I put together four consecutive workouts; it wasn't in 2012.  Given my budgetary restrictions, overpriced Chicago gyms aren't on the agenda.  So, I'm relying on my own motivation and taking it to the lakefront every morning.  There's something inherently peaceful about facing the water or the skyline, even when you're doing lunges and squats.

My goal is six days a week, but five will be acceptable.  That sounds more hardcore than it is.  These aren't very high intensity workouts.  I do have to consider the fact that I could come up against some rather worthy opponents still: cold and rain.

In my head, I know that ebooks and shopping for standard bound books online are efficient and convenient.  In my heart, I tend to have a difficult time letting go of the bricks and mortar bookstore.  When I know exactly which title I'm trying to buy, Amazon.com is my friend.  When I'm sitting on a CTA bus in traffic, I love that there's a book sitting on my phone's memory card.  But when I want to lose myself in that far-reaching and multi-faceted world of literature, I want to be surrounded by shelves and stacks.

There's no doubt that I judge a book by its cover, as well as it's title and thickness.  After all, there has to be some sort of heuristic employed to keep me from picking every book off the shelf one at a time.  Side note: that doesn't sound like a bad way to spend a day.  For me, the bookstore isn't just a purchasing domain, it's an experience.  The smell of the printed word.  Getting lost in my own world as I peruse a few pages; sometimes that has a tendency to lead to a few chapters.  Hearing the hushed tones of other book mongers around me.

My family used to drive a half hour to the nearest Borders store (may it rest in peace) when I was a kid.  We would all walk in and out of the front door together, but that was the only interaction I would have with them for hours.  There was no sense of urgency in these trips.  We left when the last person was ready to make a purchasing decision.  Until then, you contented yourself with your surroundings.  Clearly that was not an issue for me.  I've had my nose stuck in books for my entire life, and until the past couple of years they weren't digital.  So, yes, I have bookstore nostalgia.  And you'll never find me giving up on stocking my bookshelves.

As I walked back from the lakeshore today, I noticed that the gate to the Caldwell Lily Pond was finally open.  Although the vegetation is still in its infancy, that sense of zen still exists.  Somehow urbanity fades away once you walk through that gate.

In other topics related to state of mind, I had a conversation with my Dad the other day about El Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage route across northern Spain.  It's something that I've been familiar with for years, thanks to my infatuation with Paulo Coelho's books, but my Dad only became acquainted upon watching a movie recently.  I've casually thought that it would be an extraordinary mental and physical journey, traversing 750km on foot, especially since it's in Spain.  Apparently that movie piqued my Dad's interest too, and he asserts that he'll do the journey with me.  One thing everyone should know is that planting a seed related to international travel is not safe with me, unless you intend to follow through; I've already started initial research on this trip.  Seeing as my parents international experience spans only as far as Canada (which doesn't count when you grow up in Michigan), this would be quite the intense foray into world travel for him, although a commendable starting point.  But me, I'm ready to leave tomorrow.  Since that won't happen, I'll settle for buying Coelho's book detailing his pilgrimage on the Camino.

Somehow we have already lived through a third of 2012.  In some ways, I can't imagine how four months have already passed, because it seems like I haven't done anything.  On the surface, nothing appears to have changed.  When I look a little closer, I realized that there have been quite a few bullet points in these four short months.

I quit my job and wandered into the great unknown, which I'm still lurking in.  I jetted off into an international dream world by myself for a month.  While I was there, I learned how to surf, navigated a nonsense public bus system in a foreign language, MacGyvered a leaking sink, disposed of a locust of bees, and stockpiled so many other life lessons.  Since I've been home, I threw together a Craigslist ad and learned how much people were willing to spend for my time and knowledge.  I inserted myself into an industry completed unrelated to my work experience and ended up on the set of Hoarders.  In the vast collection of spare moments that I have, I found a sense of contentment in cooking (something I spent most of my life fighting against).  Moral of the story: these four seemingly short months have allowed me to aggregate more personal growth and life experience than most years of my life.

Here's to the next third of the year being just as eventful and exploratory!