Archive for August 2012
When I wrote yesterday's post, including a completely offhand comment about Andy Roddick, little did I know that it would be followed by news to inspire a dedicated post. At 5:05pm CT yesterday, a press conference changed the whole landscape of my tennis obsession.
In true Roddick style, there was no beating around the bush. Only a matter-of-fact statement regarding his decision to retiring following the US Open. A lump formed in my throat and I spent the next thirty minutes willing myself to not cry. Because who cries over press conferences?
I've had a long and dedicated journey as a Roddick fan, there's a Reebok trucker hat with a stitched Roddick signature in my closet to prove it. And maybe two posters in my storage locker, because I can't fathom getting rid of them.
At times, when his critics were in full attack mode, I was defending him as if he was a close personal friend. Some of those times I was alone in my apartment yelling at commentators on the TV screen.
I'll miss that unique service motion and the 140 mph serves extending off of his racquet. The snarky press conferences cannot be matched by another player. My only hope is that he makes it into the booth one day, so that his commentary can at least keep me from withdrawals.
Starting with the press conference, continuing to today's pre- and post-match, and I'm sure through the end of his tournament - I'm fighting back tides of emotion, because his words and actions are palpably sentimental. Hopefully he has several rounds left in him, but Sunday is a given and I'll be tuning in until the bittersweet end.
ode to andy \08.31\
Full View
Labels:
tennis
In true Roddick style, there was no beating around the bush. Only a matter-of-fact statement regarding his decision to retiring following the US Open. A lump formed in my throat and I spent the next thirty minutes willing myself to not cry. Because who cries over press conferences?
I've had a long and dedicated journey as a Roddick fan, there's a Reebok trucker hat with a stitched Roddick signature in my closet to prove it. And maybe two posters in my storage locker, because I can't fathom getting rid of them.
At times, when his critics were in full attack mode, I was defending him as if he was a close personal friend. Some of those times I was alone in my apartment yelling at commentators on the TV screen.
I'll miss that unique service motion and the 140 mph serves extending off of his racquet. The snarky press conferences cannot be matched by another player. My only hope is that he makes it into the booth one day, so that his commentary can at least keep me from withdrawals.
Starting with the press conference, continuing to today's pre- and post-match, and I'm sure through the end of his tournament - I'm fighting back tides of emotion, because his words and actions are palpably sentimental. Hopefully he has several rounds left in him, but Sunday is a given and I'll be tuning in until the bittersweet end.
Since I'm spending the holiday weekend at home and my training schedule in New York starts on Tuesday, today was technically my last day of "freedom" in Chicago. I use the term freedom loosely, because clearly I'll still have full days to use at my discretion. They'll just be called weekends and holidays from now on.
Something that I continually promised myself I'd do during my non-employed phase was take advantage of free days at museums in the city. Without hesitation, I pay for art museums when I travel. For some reason, in my own city, I feel taken advantage of when I'm asked to cough up $22 to enter.
Well, apparently free days didn't boost my motivation much. Maybe it's because the museum campus seems so far away and not particularly convenient for me to reach via CTA.
But on this day, which also happens to be Andy Roddick's 30th birthday (no relation to this post whatsoever), I resolved to hit up the Field Museum. Similar to my recent movie outing, I made myself bike to my entertainment. Efficiency. Hopefully I can apply such ingenious solutions in my impending career move.
I wandered around, reading maybe every fiftieth placard. You'd have to be there from open to close to read everything; it's an information-dense museum. I geeked out when I got to the triceratops fossils. It was always my favorite dinosaur (yeah, I have a favorite dinosaur), which I chalk up to The Land Before Time. What can I say, I liked Cera - a triceratops with a bit of a stubborn and independent streak.
After a couple aimless hours, I headed to the point of the museum campus where I could sit on the Adler Planetarium's lawn and admire the skyline view. I like this city, I really do, and I'm ready for my next phase here to begin!
local tourist \08.30\
Full View
Labels:
art,
buildings,
chicago,
museum
Since I'm spending the holiday weekend at home and my training schedule in New York starts on Tuesday, today was technically my last day of "freedom" in Chicago. I use the term freedom loosely, because clearly I'll still have full days to use at my discretion. They'll just be called weekends and holidays from now on.Something that I continually promised myself I'd do during my non-employed phase was take advantage of free days at museums in the city. Without hesitation, I pay for art museums when I travel. For some reason, in my own city, I feel taken advantage of when I'm asked to cough up $22 to enter.
Well, apparently free days didn't boost my motivation much. Maybe it's because the museum campus seems so far away and not particularly convenient for me to reach via CTA.
But on this day, which also happens to be Andy Roddick's 30th birthday (no relation to this post whatsoever), I resolved to hit up the Field Museum. Similar to my recent movie outing, I made myself bike to my entertainment. Efficiency. Hopefully I can apply such ingenious solutions in my impending career move.
I wandered around, reading maybe every fiftieth placard. You'd have to be there from open to close to read everything; it's an information-dense museum. I geeked out when I got to the triceratops fossils. It was always my favorite dinosaur (yeah, I have a favorite dinosaur), which I chalk up to The Land Before Time. What can I say, I liked Cera - a triceratops with a bit of a stubborn and independent streak.After a couple aimless hours, I headed to the point of the museum campus where I could sit on the Adler Planetarium's lawn and admire the skyline view. I like this city, I really do, and I'm ready for my next phase here to begin!
In what could possibly be the quickest hiring process ever, I came out with the long end of the stick.
August 17: Initial phone conversation
August 20: Lunch in Chicago
August 27: Interviews in New York
August 28: Offer extended
September 4: Start date
Translation: I'm hired! This is one of the many life outcomes that could've only been possible because of the lessons I've been accruing the past eight months.
Seriously, does it get more efficient and decisive? Just my style. No one likes waiting around and wondering "what if?". I treated myself to overpriced fro-yo to celebrate.
In addition to that uplifting good news, I spent the evening in a small business discussion group. There are always ideas and side projects swimming around in my head, and I thought it may be interesting or inspiring to listen to other people's.
Great experience, hands down. Honestly, I didn't expect to throw any of my ideas into the ring, mainly because none of them are particularly formed. There was a moment where the discussion leader singled me out, and I could've passed, but I decided to just blurt out my nebulous vision for the 'break it down' blog.
The enthusiasm and ideas that started bouncing around amazed me. And I managed to walk away with a re-imagined, and more viable, version of my initial brainchild. Maybe that's why I couldn't summon the motivation to work on it before; it already felt like a dead end. So, let's see if this concept makeover reinvigorates my drive.
sweet celebration \08.29\
Full View
Labels:
everyday,
food,
interview
August 17: Initial phone conversation
August 20: Lunch in Chicago
August 27: Interviews in New York
August 28: Offer extended
September 4: Start date
Translation: I'm hired! This is one of the many life outcomes that could've only been possible because of the lessons I've been accruing the past eight months.
Seriously, does it get more efficient and decisive? Just my style. No one likes waiting around and wondering "what if?". I treated myself to overpriced fro-yo to celebrate.
In addition to that uplifting good news, I spent the evening in a small business discussion group. There are always ideas and side projects swimming around in my head, and I thought it may be interesting or inspiring to listen to other people's.
Great experience, hands down. Honestly, I didn't expect to throw any of my ideas into the ring, mainly because none of them are particularly formed. There was a moment where the discussion leader singled me out, and I could've passed, but I decided to just blurt out my nebulous vision for the 'break it down' blog.
The enthusiasm and ideas that started bouncing around amazed me. And I managed to walk away with a re-imagined, and more viable, version of my initial brainchild. Maybe that's why I couldn't summon the motivation to work on it before; it already felt like a dead end. So, let's see if this concept makeover reinvigorates my drive.
Barely 24 hours of my life passed by in New York City. When taking into consideration the whirlwind timeline of the trip, the mental tornado of interviewing, and the pace of the city flowing around me - I don't entirely believe that I was even there. I must have made it up.
It amazes me how different NYC feels from Chicago, even on our most bustling streets. Granted, my radius of experience in NYC doesn't flow very far outside of Midtown, but everything feels more narrow, crowded and harried.
Yet, I'm not necessarily uncomfortable there. However, I am not quite as aggressive in my crosswalking as those New Yorkers. I don't think they believe in standing on the sidewalk.
Everyone's first question after an interview is, "How did it go?" And you never really know the answer to that question until you're offered the job or rejected. This time around, here's what I did know upon walking out the door.
I was honestly enthusiastic about the opportunity and I feel like it naturally injected my conversations with life.
There wasn't a single area where I couldn't find a parallel between my skills and their requirements.
I was able to relate to everyone that I talked to on a personal level, which made the conversations enjoyable and reassured me that this is a company culture that I could seamlessly feel at home in.
Finally, all of hours that I spent there felt like conversations instead of interrogations - a measure that I always considered when I was on the other side of the interview table.
Now I'm watching the hours pass, hoping to hear from someone. Hoping to hear good news from someone.
passing through nyc \08.28\
Full View
Labels:
buildings,
cafe,
interview,
nyc,
urban
It amazes me how different NYC feels from Chicago, even on our most bustling streets. Granted, my radius of experience in NYC doesn't flow very far outside of Midtown, but everything feels more narrow, crowded and harried.
Yet, I'm not necessarily uncomfortable there. However, I am not quite as aggressive in my crosswalking as those New Yorkers. I don't think they believe in standing on the sidewalk.
Everyone's first question after an interview is, "How did it go?" And you never really know the answer to that question until you're offered the job or rejected. This time around, here's what I did know upon walking out the door.
I was honestly enthusiastic about the opportunity and I feel like it naturally injected my conversations with life.
There wasn't a single area where I couldn't find a parallel between my skills and their requirements.
I was able to relate to everyone that I talked to on a personal level, which made the conversations enjoyable and reassured me that this is a company culture that I could seamlessly feel at home in.
Finally, all of hours that I spent there felt like conversations instead of interrogations - a measure that I always considered when I was on the other side of the interview table.
Now I'm watching the hours pass, hoping to hear from someone. Hoping to hear good news from someone.
Expect the unexpected. Plan for the worst. Call it what you want to call it. There's a reason that I do it.
I'm sure it's not actually just me, but it often feels like I'm incessantly the target of things not going as intended. And there are obviously many things in my life that don't go awry. It just so happens that the moments of stress and anxiety usurp those moments I'm my memory.
I started monitoring my public transportation timing and route to the airport yesterday. The 74 bus, walk one block, blue line to O'Hare. A one hour journey when I overestimated.
But then there was the bus stop where we lingered for eight minutes. And the crosswalk signal that I just missed, which delayed me the sixty seconds that could've gotten me on a train immediately. Despite the fact that blue line trains were coming every two to six minutes all morning, the next train wasn't arriving for ten. And then that train flew past: an express. Two more minutes later and fifteen minutes behind schedule, I boarded.
Thankfully I included a twenty minute buffer zone on top of my one hour pre-flight arrival. I made my way to Terminal 3 at as close to warp speed as possible, skipping traffic-jammed moving walkways and escalators, hoisting my suitcase up flights of stairs instead.
Hitting the self check-in kiosk exactly one hour before departure, I turned around to the security line and gaped. There were zero people lined up among the stanchions. For the first time ever, I waltzed right up to the TSA guy. In fact, I'm not confident in saying that I even went through security, it was over so quickly.
But, yes, that good karma would twist and turn several more times. Boarding occurred without any ado, my suitcase easily finding a space in my overhead bin. By 12:40pm, the plane doors still hadn't shut on our 12:25pm flight. That's when we learned that air traffic control had us logged as a 1:00pm take-off. Just sit tight another twenty minutes.
Then at 1:00pm another vague issue related to air traffic control was announced. Sit even tighter, now we're not taking off until 1:30pm. The flight itself was less than eventful, besides the woman behind me whose restless leg syndrome was rocking our whole row of seats. Oh, and the toddler two rows up who repeated the same indistinguishable phrase repeatedly while increasing his volume, as if he was practicing scales.
I started to feel relief coursing through my pent up body when the pilot announced our landing in fifteen minutes. He almost immediately reneged, getting back on the speaker to inform us that we'd actually be spending the next 20-30 minutes in a holding pattern.
So, just another routine trip in my life. At least my hotel room rate included a New York-style pie (a.k.a. pizza) bigger than the TV. Too bad I won't be around longer to enjoy the leftovers; I don't think they'd travel well.
room with a view \08.27\
Full View
Labels:
buildings,
interview,
nyc,
urban
I'm sure it's not actually just me, but it often feels like I'm incessantly the target of things not going as intended. And there are obviously many things in my life that don't go awry. It just so happens that the moments of stress and anxiety usurp those moments I'm my memory.
I started monitoring my public transportation timing and route to the airport yesterday. The 74 bus, walk one block, blue line to O'Hare. A one hour journey when I overestimated.
But then there was the bus stop where we lingered for eight minutes. And the crosswalk signal that I just missed, which delayed me the sixty seconds that could've gotten me on a train immediately. Despite the fact that blue line trains were coming every two to six minutes all morning, the next train wasn't arriving for ten. And then that train flew past: an express. Two more minutes later and fifteen minutes behind schedule, I boarded.
Thankfully I included a twenty minute buffer zone on top of my one hour pre-flight arrival. I made my way to Terminal 3 at as close to warp speed as possible, skipping traffic-jammed moving walkways and escalators, hoisting my suitcase up flights of stairs instead.
Hitting the self check-in kiosk exactly one hour before departure, I turned around to the security line and gaped. There were zero people lined up among the stanchions. For the first time ever, I waltzed right up to the TSA guy. In fact, I'm not confident in saying that I even went through security, it was over so quickly.
But, yes, that good karma would twist and turn several more times. Boarding occurred without any ado, my suitcase easily finding a space in my overhead bin. By 12:40pm, the plane doors still hadn't shut on our 12:25pm flight. That's when we learned that air traffic control had us logged as a 1:00pm take-off. Just sit tight another twenty minutes.
Then at 1:00pm another vague issue related to air traffic control was announced. Sit even tighter, now we're not taking off until 1:30pm. The flight itself was less than eventful, besides the woman behind me whose restless leg syndrome was rocking our whole row of seats. Oh, and the toddler two rows up who repeated the same indistinguishable phrase repeatedly while increasing his volume, as if he was practicing scales.
I started to feel relief coursing through my pent up body when the pilot announced our landing in fifteen minutes. He almost immediately reneged, getting back on the speaker to inform us that we'd actually be spending the next 20-30 minutes in a holding pattern.
So, just another routine trip in my life. At least my hotel room rate included a New York-style pie (a.k.a. pizza) bigger than the TV. Too bad I won't be around longer to enjoy the leftovers; I don't think they'd travel well.
The day I found out that I was heading to New York for interviews, my head was floating in a haze I likened to ten cups of coffee. It may sound strange, but lack of focus is a sign of excitement for me. Some people may call it "cloud nine".
Surprisingly, the few days that followed found me relatively relaxed about the whole situation. I did my due diligence, but all the while felt confident that this is a fit. That was soothing. Until today.
Suddenly I started fretting about what to wear, whether I would remember the correct and important anecdotes, if I had done enough internet trawling for information.
But really, unless you're an attorney, does anyone wear suits to job interviews anymore? It's been awhile since I played this game, I'm still not sure how the rules have changed. I'm opting for a professional look that's still inherently me. I figure I'll interview better if I'm comfortable in my own skin.
So hit me with all you've got NYC. I'm ready to do the same. (And hopefully capture a few photos more interesting than my interview get-up.)
interview prep \08.26\
Full View
Labels:
clothes,
interview
Surprisingly, the few days that followed found me relatively relaxed about the whole situation. I did my due diligence, but all the while felt confident that this is a fit. That was soothing. Until today.
Suddenly I started fretting about what to wear, whether I would remember the correct and important anecdotes, if I had done enough internet trawling for information.
But really, unless you're an attorney, does anyone wear suits to job interviews anymore? It's been awhile since I played this game, I'm still not sure how the rules have changed. I'm opting for a professional look that's still inherently me. I figure I'll interview better if I'm comfortable in my own skin.
So hit me with all you've got NYC. I'm ready to do the same. (And hopefully capture a few photos more interesting than my interview get-up.)
Although I've learned this lesson many times throughout my life, I've been constantly hit over the head with it this week. Things don't always go as you expected.
My new caveat to this age-old lesson is that unexpected things can still turn out pretty well, though perhaps in a different way. Having the right attitude and the highest caliber people in your life can make all of the difference.
A job interview awaits me on Tuesday. I've already put a lot of stock and hope into it. I have to make my way to New York, a city I'm not very familiar with and oddly intimidated by, for the interview process. There's a lot of ways for this journey to culminate. All I can control is my mind and my actions.
Maybe some things won't go as expected. Especially in an unfamiliar city, among people you don't know, the script can change quickly. I doubt that I'll manage to move forward with no expectations, but I'll at least attempt to keep them subdued.
urban water tower \08.25\
Full View
Labels:
buildings,
sky,
urban
My new caveat to this age-old lesson is that unexpected things can still turn out pretty well, though perhaps in a different way. Having the right attitude and the highest caliber people in your life can make all of the difference.
A job interview awaits me on Tuesday. I've already put a lot of stock and hope into it. I have to make my way to New York, a city I'm not very familiar with and oddly intimidated by, for the interview process. There's a lot of ways for this journey to culminate. All I can control is my mind and my actions.
Maybe some things won't go as expected. Especially in an unfamiliar city, among people you don't know, the script can change quickly. I doubt that I'll manage to move forward with no expectations, but I'll at least attempt to keep them subdued.
I spent three weeks at Playa Sámara, Costa Rica and in those weeks I was constantly on the lookout for an opportunity to capture a photo with a butterfly. I'm not sure why, it just became a mission, but to no avail. By the time I spotted one and prepared my camera, the fickle creature had fluttered away.
As I laid out my towel in the garden where I often read (a routine activity in a standard spot), I noticed two monarchs paying heavy attention to a flowering tree. Initially I thought, "What's the use? I never get my camera up in time." But I started going through the motions anyways and managed to capture four shots before they spread their wings and took off.
My mind started working overtime on bridging these occurrences to create a life metaphor, not the first I've come up with. Ready for it?
Sometimes we stretch and strain ourselves seeking something so specific that it manages to become elusive. Maybe we chase it or become obsessively focused on it. But there's an odd tendency for the things that we've been seeking to show up in the standard rhythm of our life. When you let the obsession lie dormant and focus on a bigger picture, you often end up pleasantly surprised.
monarch-y \08.24\
Full View
Labels:
butterfly,
flower,
outdoors
As I laid out my towel in the garden where I often read (a routine activity in a standard spot), I noticed two monarchs paying heavy attention to a flowering tree. Initially I thought, "What's the use? I never get my camera up in time." But I started going through the motions anyways and managed to capture four shots before they spread their wings and took off.
My mind started working overtime on bridging these occurrences to create a life metaphor, not the first I've come up with. Ready for it?
Sometimes we stretch and strain ourselves seeking something so specific that it manages to become elusive. Maybe we chase it or become obsessively focused on it. But there's an odd tendency for the things that we've been seeking to show up in the standard rhythm of our life. When you let the obsession lie dormant and focus on a bigger picture, you often end up pleasantly surprised.
Frankly, my brain has been spinning in so many circles this week that I can't think of a single cohesive theme to write about. It has been a five-day roller coaster - climbing, dropping, looping.
I would guess that this disequilibrium is a symptom of impending major change. The last major shift in my life was eight months ago, yet feels like years ago.
Each morning this week, I woke up between 4:30-5:30am, which is a good three hours before my usual rise and shine moment. I had to go for a three-mile walk today to shake the jittery combination of anxiety and excitement from my body. Maybe I should lay off of drinking coffee for a couple weeks.
shadow play \08.23\
Full View
Labels:
neighborhood,
urban
I would guess that this disequilibrium is a symptom of impending major change. The last major shift in my life was eight months ago, yet feels like years ago.
Each morning this week, I woke up between 4:30-5:30am, which is a good three hours before my usual rise and shine moment. I had to go for a three-mile walk today to shake the jittery combination of anxiety and excitement from my body. Maybe I should lay off of drinking coffee for a couple weeks.
Today seemed to have a theme: friends and pools. And that combination proved to be precisely what was needed to quell an anxious mind.
Lunchtime by the pool with a newer friend proved to be a valuable mixture of grilled food (a personal favorite), time in the sun, and eye-opening stories about life travails and triumphs. My curiosity about someone else's life was a great way to divert attention from my own for a few hours.
Then dinnertime rolled into the after hours with a tried and true group of girls. Nighttime by the pool, with the addition of the city skyline and a bottle of vino drank from red Solo cups, made for another set of mentally recuperative hours.
Even when there are things in life that get you down, it's good to know that there are people surrounding you that can help you feel lifted up. And that's what 2012 has been about for me, recognizing the true value in life and ensuring that I prioritize and appreciate it.
evening glow \08.22\
Full View
Labels:
buildings,
downtown,
night,
pool
Lunchtime by the pool with a newer friend proved to be a valuable mixture of grilled food (a personal favorite), time in the sun, and eye-opening stories about life travails and triumphs. My curiosity about someone else's life was a great way to divert attention from my own for a few hours.
Then dinnertime rolled into the after hours with a tried and true group of girls. Nighttime by the pool, with the addition of the city skyline and a bottle of vino drank from red Solo cups, made for another set of mentally recuperative hours.
Even when there are things in life that get you down, it's good to know that there are people surrounding you that can help you feel lifted up. And that's what 2012 has been about for me, recognizing the true value in life and ensuring that I prioritize and appreciate it.
Disappointment is a tricky state of mind. You have to be careful not to let it leach into other facets of your life or to taint the progression of the arena where it occurs. As difficult as it is to view disappointment objectively, it seems to be the best approach for curtailing the possible negative aftermath.
When a situation doesn't live up to expectations, a palpable sense of disappointment can reveal how much it mattered to you. By asking myself not only if I'm disappointed, but why, I learn a lot about the direction and intensity of my feelings.
As soon as I've let myself experience and assess disappointment, though, I attempt to move past it. Wallowing won't make it better. So I assume that it either occurred to create a path for something better or I merely accept that it happened and shift my focus to next steps.
Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Perhaps it's the reason that people tend to bestow upon me the "grace under pressure" moniker. I suppose I would rather just recognize and address my disappointment than let it own me. Despite all of this, I still feel it, sometimes rather acutely.
loop rush hour \08.21\
Full View
Labels:
chicago,
downtown,
urban
When a situation doesn't live up to expectations, a palpable sense of disappointment can reveal how much it mattered to you. By asking myself not only if I'm disappointed, but why, I learn a lot about the direction and intensity of my feelings.
As soon as I've let myself experience and assess disappointment, though, I attempt to move past it. Wallowing won't make it better. So I assume that it either occurred to create a path for something better or I merely accept that it happened and shift my focus to next steps.
Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Perhaps it's the reason that people tend to bestow upon me the "grace under pressure" moniker. I suppose I would rather just recognize and address my disappointment than let it own me. Despite all of this, I still feel it, sometimes rather acutely.
Sometimes life hands you everything at once - the good, the bad, the perplexing. That seems to be how last week started and this week continues. Family, friends, relationships, work. I'm acutely aware of each one right now.
My great aunt passed away this morning. The sadness ebbs and flows, mixed with relief that her pain and struggle are over. In convenient coincidence, I have a particularly busy week of planned rendezvous with friends. This serves as both a soothing distraction and a reminder to appreciate the people in my life.
During all of this, I have forged a promising path for returning to the full-time working world. It actually feels great to be enthusiastic about an opportunity, to walk down Wacker Drive and want to be there again.
It's amazing how quickly the path of my journey and the extent of my perspective can be affected in a week or even a day. Life is so volatile. This year has been a great lesson in focusing on what's most meaningful and appreciating it; you never know what tomorrow will bring.
reflections \08.20\
Full View
Labels:
architecture,
buildings,
urban
My great aunt passed away this morning. The sadness ebbs and flows, mixed with relief that her pain and struggle are over. In convenient coincidence, I have a particularly busy week of planned rendezvous with friends. This serves as both a soothing distraction and a reminder to appreciate the people in my life.
During all of this, I have forged a promising path for returning to the full-time working world. It actually feels great to be enthusiastic about an opportunity, to walk down Wacker Drive and want to be there again.
It's amazing how quickly the path of my journey and the extent of my perspective can be affected in a week or even a day. Life is so volatile. This year has been a great lesson in focusing on what's most meaningful and appreciating it; you never know what tomorrow will bring.
In the past eight months, I have spent a lot of time thinking and nearly as much time tracking down and following blogs that echo my mental wavelength.
In one of the posts that I read today, the writer first illustrates a baby's journey to its first steps, followed by a reminder of the plight it took for the baby to get to that stage. Crawling, falling, dragging him or herself back up to try again. The crux of the post is that we essentially spend our lives in this same cycle, only the steps and falls are less literal.
I know there were college days when I assumed that my life would be on a skillfully chosen path to bliss soon after walking away with a diploma in my hand. At the age of 28, I still feel perplexed by my portions of my life on a regular basis. While that used to frustrate me, I'm now learning to accept it and appreciate the journey.
By taking the time to look back on so many years and events in my life, I'm able to hone in on the value that each of them has created. The path may not be a straight and even line, but as long as I'm growing and learning then everything is going exactly as it should.
There's a relatively well-used phrase referring your "formative years" being well behind you, commonly used in referring to adolescence, but more specifically denoting your journey to maturity. In that case, I'm not sure that my formative years will ever fully be behind me. I intend to continue learning, trying, doing, crawling, falling and walking for as long as I have the power to do so.
garden variety \08.19\
Full View
Labels:
flowers,
summer
In one of the posts that I read today, the writer first illustrates a baby's journey to its first steps, followed by a reminder of the plight it took for the baby to get to that stage. Crawling, falling, dragging him or herself back up to try again. The crux of the post is that we essentially spend our lives in this same cycle, only the steps and falls are less literal.
I know there were college days when I assumed that my life would be on a skillfully chosen path to bliss soon after walking away with a diploma in my hand. At the age of 28, I still feel perplexed by my portions of my life on a regular basis. While that used to frustrate me, I'm now learning to accept it and appreciate the journey.
By taking the time to look back on so many years and events in my life, I'm able to hone in on the value that each of them has created. The path may not be a straight and even line, but as long as I'm growing and learning then everything is going exactly as it should.
There's a relatively well-used phrase referring your "formative years" being well behind you, commonly used in referring to adolescence, but more specifically denoting your journey to maturity. In that case, I'm not sure that my formative years will ever fully be behind me. I intend to continue learning, trying, doing, crawling, falling and walking for as long as I have the power to do so.
The hints of the cooler climes ahead have begun. With that, in the midwest, wafts in the ambiance of college football. There are certain days when I walk outside and can practically smell it in the air; regardless of what city street I'm walking down, my mind is transported to Saturday walks to Spartan Stadium down Shaw Lane.
This feeling hits me every year in the weeks preceding the season opener and in those years I've always had the feeling that I'm not the only one.
Chicago is a melting pot of relocated alumni; clearly a large chunk of the ratio leans toward the Big Ten, but there are myriad universities represented. As September looms and the weather starts to turn, there's a noticeable uptick in university apparel.
Everyone seems to be representing their school more prominently when football season is on the horizon. It just gets me even more revved up.
Last year was the first season since I enrolled at MSU that I didn't make it to a football game. Truly unacceptable. The plan is to make it to at least one game this season, the only problem being a significant hike in ticket prices thanks to Coach Dantonio's success with the program.
escape route \08.18\
Full View
Labels:
brick,
building,
stairs,
urban
This feeling hits me every year in the weeks preceding the season opener and in those years I've always had the feeling that I'm not the only one.
Chicago is a melting pot of relocated alumni; clearly a large chunk of the ratio leans toward the Big Ten, but there are myriad universities represented. As September looms and the weather starts to turn, there's a noticeable uptick in university apparel.
Everyone seems to be representing their school more prominently when football season is on the horizon. It just gets me even more revved up.
Last year was the first season since I enrolled at MSU that I didn't make it to a football game. Truly unacceptable. The plan is to make it to at least one game this season, the only problem being a significant hike in ticket prices thanks to Coach Dantonio's success with the program.
I've been working on coaxing out my inner optimist. Today marked my most recent experiment. This year marks the fourth summer that I have spent living in Chicago, which also equates to living through four Air & Water Show weekends.
Although I have never actually attended the show, I'm fully capable of imagining two million bodies crammed into the thin stretch of lakefront land between Oak Street Beach and Fullerton. And I want no part of that mass of sweaty people.
Since I also live in the vicinity, that overflow reaches my day-to-day life. The simple act of using a sidewalk becomes a life-endangering pursuit. The second anyone starts to hear jet thrust, they come to a complete and abrupt stop in front of you, even in the crosswalks, to look up into the sky. Thus, I tend to skip town each year on this weekend.
Unfortunately I skipped town last weekend and gas is expensive. So, instead I've decided to change my mind and behavior, to the extent that I can.
First of all, I've admitted to myself that sitting in my apartment and watching Blue Angels fly-bys is a rather unique experience. And the sound of jet thrust does bring me back to the absurd number of times that I watched Top Gun in high school, before I knew too much about Tom Cruise. These guys do some pretty amazing things and I have to appreciate them for that.
Secondly, I realized that through a simple act known as avoidance, I can remain mostly ignorant to the gawking masses and the inherent frustrations. Google was helpful in finding me the show times (10am-3pm), so I'll make sure to avoid the streets during that period. I'll avoid the lakefront at all costs and attempt to make any outdoor movements in a westward direction.
So maybe I'm still not a natural optimist, but I gave up a little ground. Baby steps.
formation \08.17\
Full View
Labels:
clouds,
jets,
sky
Although I have never actually attended the show, I'm fully capable of imagining two million bodies crammed into the thin stretch of lakefront land between Oak Street Beach and Fullerton. And I want no part of that mass of sweaty people.
Since I also live in the vicinity, that overflow reaches my day-to-day life. The simple act of using a sidewalk becomes a life-endangering pursuit. The second anyone starts to hear jet thrust, they come to a complete and abrupt stop in front of you, even in the crosswalks, to look up into the sky. Thus, I tend to skip town each year on this weekend.
Unfortunately I skipped town last weekend and gas is expensive. So, instead I've decided to change my mind and behavior, to the extent that I can.
First of all, I've admitted to myself that sitting in my apartment and watching Blue Angels fly-bys is a rather unique experience. And the sound of jet thrust does bring me back to the absurd number of times that I watched Top Gun in high school, before I knew too much about Tom Cruise. These guys do some pretty amazing things and I have to appreciate them for that.
Secondly, I realized that through a simple act known as avoidance, I can remain mostly ignorant to the gawking masses and the inherent frustrations. Google was helpful in finding me the show times (10am-3pm), so I'll make sure to avoid the streets during that period. I'll avoid the lakefront at all costs and attempt to make any outdoor movements in a westward direction.
So maybe I'm still not a natural optimist, but I gave up a little ground. Baby steps.
For three years, my visits to the Loop were five days a week (not accounting for holidays and vacations, of course). After January 13th of this year, it has been about five times total. Every time I step off a bus and into the bustle, the environment feels concurrently familiar and disorienting. It's definitely a long way from the baby stroller subset that flourishes in weekday neighborhood atmosphere.
I've definitely reached a point where the hustle and bustle is beckoning to me again. The imbalance that led me away has been studied and broken down from every angle. New parameters have been mentally drawn to ensure my work/life balance remains intact. I always vocalized my desire to work for a company that believed in the balance, without realizing that it's a two-way street. I also have to commit to maintaining that balance.
Stepping away to recalibrate wasn't always easy, but I've never had any doubt that it was the best move. What I've spent eight months learning could've plagued me for years or even decades.
loop lights \08.16\
Full View
Labels:
buildings,
chicago,
light,
train
I've definitely reached a point where the hustle and bustle is beckoning to me again. The imbalance that led me away has been studied and broken down from every angle. New parameters have been mentally drawn to ensure my work/life balance remains intact. I always vocalized my desire to work for a company that believed in the balance, without realizing that it's a two-way street. I also have to commit to maintaining that balance.
Stepping away to recalibrate wasn't always easy, but I've never had any doubt that it was the best move. What I've spent eight months learning could've plagued me for years or even decades.
I'm sure you've seen just as many articles and debates about the death of face-to-face communication, especially in regards to Generation Y and whatever they're calling the youngins these days. As I was texting away this afternoon, I started thinking about the way in which this habit has changed the way we write...or type, rather.
Traditionally, it seems that writing was of a more formal nature, obeying punctuation and syntax rules. As we've relegated phone calls and personal interaction to the past, the non-verbal forms have taken on more casual proportions.
Abbreviations and acronyms are only part of it. In fact, we try to type out our communication to convey even the intonations and expressions that you would experience in person. Emoticons :-/, draggggging out words with repeated letters...ellipsis to demonstrate a dramatic pause or open-ended thought...
I'm as guilty as most (although I do avoid the acronyms, they just bug me), hiding behind my technology for communication. As a self-professed introvert, it's easier and more comfortable to send an email or a text. Since it's become a social norm, I don't generally think twice about it either.
Yet, as a lover of all things grammar, punctuation and syntax, I have a difficult time accepting the virtual slaughter of the written word. Pun intended.
urban overgrowth \08.15\
Full View
Labels:
chicago,
lake michigan,
urban outdoors
Traditionally, it seems that writing was of a more formal nature, obeying punctuation and syntax rules. As we've relegated phone calls and personal interaction to the past, the non-verbal forms have taken on more casual proportions.
Abbreviations and acronyms are only part of it. In fact, we try to type out our communication to convey even the intonations and expressions that you would experience in person. Emoticons :-/, draggggging out words with repeated letters...ellipsis to demonstrate a dramatic pause or open-ended thought...
I'm as guilty as most (although I do avoid the acronyms, they just bug me), hiding behind my technology for communication. As a self-professed introvert, it's easier and more comfortable to send an email or a text. Since it's become a social norm, I don't generally think twice about it either.
Yet, as a lover of all things grammar, punctuation and syntax, I have a difficult time accepting the virtual slaughter of the written word. Pun intended.
The first half of my day seemed intent on not going as expected or desired. With a recruiter meeting scheduled in River North at 11:00am, I left my place at 10:25am to hop an 11 bus.
As handy as the CTA's bus tracker is, sometimes it lies. I was supposed to have a four-minute walk that should've easily fit within my seven-minute clearance. Instead I was a half-block away from the stop as I watched the bus accelerate southbound through the intersection.
No problem, there's always a 22 bus as an alternate plan. Again I was left with seven minutes to book it two and a half blocks...in heels. And clearly I haven't had a need to wear heels at any time in the past eight months, so blisters were already forming.
Guess what happened when I was a half-block away? Southbound bus, intersection, acceleration. Luckily I live at a virtual crossroads of buses, so I just kept walking the next block over to the 156. Unfortunately, ten to fifteen minutes had already passed and I had another nine minutes to wait.
Anyone who knows me well is familiar with my anal retentive need to not only be on time, but early. And now I was not only destined to be late, but late to what was essentially a preliminary job interview.
If you'd like to fast forward about twenty minutes with me, I somehow managed to walk in the door, flustered and glistening a bit from the effort, only one minute late. Then it took only another fifteen seconds to learn that my recruiter was running late.
Thus, I spent a half hour at the Starbucks patio on Franklin and Chicago, people watching and taking pictures of the 'L' tracks. I felt justified in taking the afternoon off for napping and reading after all of the transportation excitement. And I think I'll wear flats for the rest of 2012.
track view \08.14\
Full View
Labels:
chicago,
train,
urban
As handy as the CTA's bus tracker is, sometimes it lies. I was supposed to have a four-minute walk that should've easily fit within my seven-minute clearance. Instead I was a half-block away from the stop as I watched the bus accelerate southbound through the intersection.
No problem, there's always a 22 bus as an alternate plan. Again I was left with seven minutes to book it two and a half blocks...in heels. And clearly I haven't had a need to wear heels at any time in the past eight months, so blisters were already forming.
Guess what happened when I was a half-block away? Southbound bus, intersection, acceleration. Luckily I live at a virtual crossroads of buses, so I just kept walking the next block over to the 156. Unfortunately, ten to fifteen minutes had already passed and I had another nine minutes to wait.
Anyone who knows me well is familiar with my anal retentive need to not only be on time, but early. And now I was not only destined to be late, but late to what was essentially a preliminary job interview.
If you'd like to fast forward about twenty minutes with me, I somehow managed to walk in the door, flustered and glistening a bit from the effort, only one minute late. Then it took only another fifteen seconds to learn that my recruiter was running late.
Thus, I spent a half hour at the Starbucks patio on Franklin and Chicago, people watching and taking pictures of the 'L' tracks. I felt justified in taking the afternoon off for napping and reading after all of the transportation excitement. And I think I'll wear flats for the rest of 2012.
Some days make you feel like you just aren't meant to win. The skies are gray, the clouds are full of rain, nothing works, and everything feels like it's piercing that ache in your head. If there is anyone who can claim to never have experienced a day like this, I don't believe it.
The challenge is to help yourself come out of these days unscathed, not letting the effects linger. I wasn't born with a predisposition for optimism, so this is effortful. Yet, when I look back at my day objectively, I can see the cracks where a little light shone through.
Visiting my great aunt was rougher than I can describe, but there was a half hour of solitude that I spent in quiet reflection of memorable times. The front room of her house has always been an indoor garden, complete with plants, stone, wood chips, fountains and critters (albeit, fake ones).
As kids, we found endless hours of entertainment playing in her garden. Despite the number of years it has been since I last bathed ceramic frogs in the cupid fountain, I saw them today and it felt like time had barely shifted. The memories are that vivid and fond.
I also took the time to really witness and appreciate the stoicism, love and care that my mom displays effortlessly and daily for her aunt. When we start to consider ourselves adults, sometimes we forget that our parents can still teach us things. Unintentionally, my mom led by example today.
As I started to rifle through these positive thoughts, it became easier to see even more: the love of my grandma with her fresh-baked cookies, the thoughfulness of my dad, the supportive presence of my best friend, the simple expression of gratitude from someone that I helped.
Gray days happen, they always will. My new goal is to treat them with a version of the age-old advice to couples: never go to bed angry. Instead of falling asleep with resentment for my gray day, I'll look for the bits of color that are surely hiding there. I feel like it increases my odds of waking up on the right side of the bed tomorrow.
retro tchotchke montage \08.14\
Full View
Labels:
miscellany
The challenge is to help yourself come out of these days unscathed, not letting the effects linger. I wasn't born with a predisposition for optimism, so this is effortful. Yet, when I look back at my day objectively, I can see the cracks where a little light shone through.
Visiting my great aunt was rougher than I can describe, but there was a half hour of solitude that I spent in quiet reflection of memorable times. The front room of her house has always been an indoor garden, complete with plants, stone, wood chips, fountains and critters (albeit, fake ones).
As kids, we found endless hours of entertainment playing in her garden. Despite the number of years it has been since I last bathed ceramic frogs in the cupid fountain, I saw them today and it felt like time had barely shifted. The memories are that vivid and fond.
I also took the time to really witness and appreciate the stoicism, love and care that my mom displays effortlessly and daily for her aunt. When we start to consider ourselves adults, sometimes we forget that our parents can still teach us things. Unintentionally, my mom led by example today.
As I started to rifle through these positive thoughts, it became easier to see even more: the love of my grandma with her fresh-baked cookies, the thoughfulness of my dad, the supportive presence of my best friend, the simple expression of gratitude from someone that I helped.
Gray days happen, they always will. My new goal is to treat them with a version of the age-old advice to couples: never go to bed angry. Instead of falling asleep with resentment for my gray day, I'll look for the bits of color that are surely hiding there. I feel like it increases my odds of waking up on the right side of the bed tomorrow.
I know that I'm not the only person who tuned into the Olympics closing ceremony in anticipation of the Spice Girls' reunion performance. There's a good chance that other people also flashed back to the choreographed scene from She's All That, with Usher as the DJ, when Fatboy Slim appeared in a giant octopus at the Olympic Stadium.
I've always been so intrigued with the way music attaches itself to memories and life stages. In an instant, my mood can deviate based on four minutes of recorded sounds.
Without fail, probably for the rest of my life, the sounds of NSYNC will revive a feeling of simple innocence. "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" has my days of serving tables at Lone Star written all over it. Mariah Carey's "Emotions" reminds me of the constant battle for jukebox dominance that my brothers and I carried out in my grandparents' basement.
I'm also consistently amazed at the sheer quantity of song lyrics that are catalogued away in my brain. It seems that I could be storing more pertinent information than start to finish lyrics for a Savage Garden song from 1997.
spartan nation \08.12\
Full View
Labels:
msu,
outdoors
I've always been so intrigued with the way music attaches itself to memories and life stages. In an instant, my mood can deviate based on four minutes of recorded sounds.
Without fail, probably for the rest of my life, the sounds of NSYNC will revive a feeling of simple innocence. "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" has my days of serving tables at Lone Star written all over it. Mariah Carey's "Emotions" reminds me of the constant battle for jukebox dominance that my brothers and I carried out in my grandparents' basement.
I'm also consistently amazed at the sheer quantity of song lyrics that are catalogued away in my brain. It seems that I could be storing more pertinent information than start to finish lyrics for a Savage Garden song from 1997.
As a follow-up to the excitement of yesterday's girls' night, tonight we sat at the kitchen table with a pizza and a smartphone with a cracked LCD screen. The mission was to deconstruct, replace the screen, then rebuild. Carefully extracting motherboards and digitizers...standard girls' night, right? Minus the trivial things like high heels and martinis.
I suppose we'll have to take pride in the fact that the deconstruction was relatively seamless and we managed to put it back together completely. Unfortunately, we learned that word on the street was correct; it's easy to flub the replacement on the HTC Inspire.
There are two major connections that need to be made, and despite the insignificant size of some prongs, when they break it's game over. Maybe smartphones aren't the best place to practice amateur skills in electronics repairs.
Regardless, I've never understood when people tell me that they hate putting together IKEA furniture. Did you also hate playing with Legos as a kid? I think it's good for your brain to work through these processes - a combination of spacial skills and problem solving. Plus, it's a cheap little thrill when you manage to successfully build or fix something.
bits & pieces \08.11\
Full View
Labels:
electronics,
phone
I suppose we'll have to take pride in the fact that the deconstruction was relatively seamless and we managed to put it back together completely. Unfortunately, we learned that word on the street was correct; it's easy to flub the replacement on the HTC Inspire.
There are two major connections that need to be made, and despite the insignificant size of some prongs, when they break it's game over. Maybe smartphones aren't the best place to practice amateur skills in electronics repairs.
Regardless, I've never understood when people tell me that they hate putting together IKEA furniture. Did you also hate playing with Legos as a kid? I think it's good for your brain to work through these processes - a combination of spacial skills and problem solving. Plus, it's a cheap little thrill when you manage to successfully build or fix something.
After a day wrought with never-ending rain, we took a gamble and headed for the lakeshore. Something that was once so prominent in my life, Lake Michigan sunsets, has become a rare treat now that I live on the sunrise side of the lake. So during this weekend excursion home, I was intent on getting in at least one sunset in 2012.
Although the weather seemed likely to be a deterrent, it actually created a unique atmosphere for the scene. While the light and color radiating from a sunset usually seems to take up the entire sky, the storm clouds left us peering toward the shores of Wisconsin for a peek. To the south, the orange tones were streaked and blurred with rain. For a couple of short minutes, standing at a vantage point high above the beach, we watched the sun slip through the cloud cover and over the horizon.
I'd be lying if I said this wasn't the typical tone of my Friday nights. After sunset, we made our way back to the house for our rendition of girls' night: a glass of wine, comfy clothes and catching up on life. No shame in being tame.
over the horizon \08.10\
Full View
Labels:
lake michigan,
sunset
Although the weather seemed likely to be a deterrent, it actually created a unique atmosphere for the scene. While the light and color radiating from a sunset usually seems to take up the entire sky, the storm clouds left us peering toward the shores of Wisconsin for a peek. To the south, the orange tones were streaked and blurred with rain. For a couple of short minutes, standing at a vantage point high above the beach, we watched the sun slip through the cloud cover and over the horizon.
I'd be lying if I said this wasn't the typical tone of my Friday nights. After sunset, we made our way back to the house for our rendition of girls' night: a glass of wine, comfy clothes and catching up on life. No shame in being tame.
As if my travel list of "must go" destinations isn't long enough, and my current means just aren't enough, I let myself do things like follow travel-related Twitter accounts and click on travel sections within blogs. Today those two actions alone have left my heart with anticipatory palpitations over the prospect of going on a South African safari, feeling insignificant in the powerful presence of Iguazú Falls, and camping at the base of yet another waterfall in Iceland.
Maybe I dream big about my future travels as a distraction from spending so much time in the same 550 square feet or the same three-mile radius. It's no secret that I've enjoyed my sabbatical, but I'm beyond ready to return to an occupied life (which, consequently, can reinstate the means for feeding my wanderlust).
There's a promise that I have made to myself, but now I'm going to put it in writing. It increases the odds that someone will hold me accountable for following through, just in case I start to over-think instead of act. As soon as I secure regular income again, it's time to invest in a dSLR. I want to transition myself from phone-tographer to photographer.
lake chops \08.09\
Full View
Labels:
lake michigan,
rock
Maybe I dream big about my future travels as a distraction from spending so much time in the same 550 square feet or the same three-mile radius. It's no secret that I've enjoyed my sabbatical, but I'm beyond ready to return to an occupied life (which, consequently, can reinstate the means for feeding my wanderlust).
There's a promise that I have made to myself, but now I'm going to put it in writing. It increases the odds that someone will hold me accountable for following through, just in case I start to over-think instead of act. As soon as I secure regular income again, it's time to invest in a dSLR. I want to transition myself from phone-tographer to photographer.
Some combination of time constraints and laziness resulted in a lapse of my library card and lack of effort to renew it. That was over a year ago. It's amazing that in all of these months of non-employment, I only just thought to change that.
In the months since February, I've scoured my own bookshelves for re-reads, borrowed books from friends, downloaded some free classics on my phone, and even invested in a few new paperbacks with assistance from a gift card. For some reason, the library fell to an option of last resort. Admittedly, my closest branch doesn't have a stunning collection and is approximately the same square footage as the row house next to my apartment building.
As soon as I stepped inside the library, despite those things, it felt like home and I started uncovering treasures that I didn't even know I was looking for. Lonely Planet (my favorite travel book brand) put out a guide in 2006 for taking urban travel photography. In a world filled with tutorials, blogs and books on taking engagement and toddler photos, this was like a holy grail. It didn't even last through the afternoon - I devoured it.
Some of the non-fiction books that I expressed interest in recently, I've been dragging my feet on the purchase. Hardcover books are pricey. Unless you check them out of the library. I'm currently on a waiting list for both books; apparently I'm not the only person interested in a behind-the-scenes look at introverts.
Now that my library card is back in working order, my to-do list includes a trip to the Harold Washington Library in the Loop. It's unacceptable that I've never been. And I hear they have some great spaces to hunker down for reading or working. Enough writing about books, time to go read one.
booking it \08.08\
Full View
Labels:
books
In the months since February, I've scoured my own bookshelves for re-reads, borrowed books from friends, downloaded some free classics on my phone, and even invested in a few new paperbacks with assistance from a gift card. For some reason, the library fell to an option of last resort. Admittedly, my closest branch doesn't have a stunning collection and is approximately the same square footage as the row house next to my apartment building.
As soon as I stepped inside the library, despite those things, it felt like home and I started uncovering treasures that I didn't even know I was looking for. Lonely Planet (my favorite travel book brand) put out a guide in 2006 for taking urban travel photography. In a world filled with tutorials, blogs and books on taking engagement and toddler photos, this was like a holy grail. It didn't even last through the afternoon - I devoured it.
Some of the non-fiction books that I expressed interest in recently, I've been dragging my feet on the purchase. Hardcover books are pricey. Unless you check them out of the library. I'm currently on a waiting list for both books; apparently I'm not the only person interested in a behind-the-scenes look at introverts.
Now that my library card is back in working order, my to-do list includes a trip to the Harold Washington Library in the Loop. It's unacceptable that I've never been. And I hear they have some great spaces to hunker down for reading or working. Enough writing about books, time to go read one.
This week is already turning out to be a lesson in perspective. The present moment may not meet the definition of perfect or ideal, but instead of focusing on the frustrations I'm trying to train myself to realize what I already possess that is of true importance...and then take the time to appreciate and enjoy them.
If people mean the world to me, they should know that and I should be making an effort to spend time with them. If something makes me happy, I should figure out a way to ensure it's a part of my life. If the perfect path does not yet exist, I should find the nearest detour and keep moving forward.
For most people, life is an exercise in trade-offs (actually, probably for all people). As a perfectionist, there's a good chance that I've long tried to convince myself that I could find the holy grail of perfect existence if I just tried hard enough. But I'm 28 years old and I should be living life and learning, not holding back and waiting on perfection.
So thanks to thirteen tastings of Rioja wine and an evening spent in great company, I'm making a public statement of gratefulness for the amazing things that exist now and dedication to pursuing anything that I know makes me happy; it doesn't matter if I have utopia figured out just yet.
rioja state of mind \08.07\
Full View
Labels:
brick,
wine
If people mean the world to me, they should know that and I should be making an effort to spend time with them. If something makes me happy, I should figure out a way to ensure it's a part of my life. If the perfect path does not yet exist, I should find the nearest detour and keep moving forward.
For most people, life is an exercise in trade-offs (actually, probably for all people). As a perfectionist, there's a good chance that I've long tried to convince myself that I could find the holy grail of perfect existence if I just tried hard enough. But I'm 28 years old and I should be living life and learning, not holding back and waiting on perfection.
So thanks to thirteen tastings of Rioja wine and an evening spent in great company, I'm making a public statement of gratefulness for the amazing things that exist now and dedication to pursuing anything that I know makes me happy; it doesn't matter if I have utopia figured out just yet.
A few months my great aunt had a stroke that left her incapable of ever swallowing on her own again. Approaching 90 years old, she has always been a vivacious and strong woman, living alone in her own house for many years. The side effects of the stroke took her quality of life and made her feel as if she wasn't really living anymore.
So last week she asked them to remove her feeding tube, which would inevitably only give her another week or two to live. My grandma is by her sister's side daily, while my mom visits a couple times a week. I've made sure to call and talk to her, disregarding my own feeling of awkwardness at discerning proper topics of conversation in such circumstances.
My mom called today to tell me that they're putting her on morphine this afternoon and she doesn't have much time left. All my great aunt talks about is how happy she has been to hear from and see so many people in the past week.
There wasn't much to say when I called today, but I made sure to cover the things that are most important: I love you & goodbye. Although I'm typically pretty stoic with emotions, my throat seized up and my eyes brimmed over with tears as I squeaked out these words.
Lessons reinforced today: It's worth putting aside your nonsense to ensure that important people know what they mean to you. Live a life that reaps the kind of love where everyone is knocking down your door and making your phone ring to make sure you know it.
live and love \08.06\
Full View
Labels:
flowers
So last week she asked them to remove her feeding tube, which would inevitably only give her another week or two to live. My grandma is by her sister's side daily, while my mom visits a couple times a week. I've made sure to call and talk to her, disregarding my own feeling of awkwardness at discerning proper topics of conversation in such circumstances.
My mom called today to tell me that they're putting her on morphine this afternoon and she doesn't have much time left. All my great aunt talks about is how happy she has been to hear from and see so many people in the past week.
There wasn't much to say when I called today, but I made sure to cover the things that are most important: I love you & goodbye. Although I'm typically pretty stoic with emotions, my throat seized up and my eyes brimmed over with tears as I squeaked out these words.
Lessons reinforced today: It's worth putting aside your nonsense to ensure that important people know what they mean to you. Live a life that reaps the kind of love where everyone is knocking down your door and making your phone ring to make sure you know it.
I don't currently have one of those fancy full-time jobs that all the kids are talking about these days, so I need to set goals and benchmarks for myself in other ways. Lately it seems to be my personal health and fitness - oh, and searching for jobs.
Since I had such a successful week of exercising and healthy eating (seven days straight), I thought I'd reward myself with some reading at the beach. If only there was enough sand real estate that I could read without being in range of conversations I'd rather not hear.
What I'm learning about myself is that I need variety to keep things from getting stagnant. When I try to exercise the same way every day, I eventually stop. And by eventually, I mean within days. So last week, I switched it up: running, walking, biking, tennis.
Tomorrow, I'm attempting yoga again. I know it's supposed to improve your flexibility, but I feel like such a fool doing it with my current limited ability to be pretzel-like. It's a free class though, so the worst case scenario is a wasted hour of my morning.
under the summer sky \08.05\
Full View
Labels:
book,
clouds,
sky
Since I had such a successful week of exercising and healthy eating (seven days straight), I thought I'd reward myself with some reading at the beach. If only there was enough sand real estate that I could read without being in range of conversations I'd rather not hear.
What I'm learning about myself is that I need variety to keep things from getting stagnant. When I try to exercise the same way every day, I eventually stop. And by eventually, I mean within days. So last week, I switched it up: running, walking, biking, tennis.
Tomorrow, I'm attempting yoga again. I know it's supposed to improve your flexibility, but I feel like such a fool doing it with my current limited ability to be pretzel-like. It's a free class though, so the worst case scenario is a wasted hour of my morning.
Something about a good summer storm puts me in a blissful state of awe, ignites my senses. When the thunder rolls, I can feel it rumbling through my own body. The patter of rain creates a percussive lull and the smell is intoxicatingly fresh and natural. Lightning glowers in the clouds or streaks through the sky, its own personal gallery, creating an abstract display of meteorological art.
I find myself amazed at the evolution of a clear blue sky into a dark and ominous storm cell. The colors in the sky and the shapes in the clouds are usually most entrancing in that short calm before the storm. In those moments, I find myself concurrently appreciating the scene and anticipating the next phase. Somehow I manage to find an inherent peace in Mother Nature's turmoil.
This fascination isn't new, I have many childhood and adolescent memories tied to stormy summer days. My dad and I used to open the garage door as a storm rolled in and set up lawn chairs at its edge. We would bring our books, sometimes a newspaper, and sit in companionable silence while we watched and felt the storm around us.
On rainy days, when the thunder and lightning were absent, my brothers and I would ravage the garage for buckets, wheelbarrows, wagons, anything that could hold water. Smaller containers would be placed under downspouts around the perimeter of the house. As a container filled, we would replace it with an empty and relay the rainwater contents to a wheelbarrow. There was no real purpose to this activity besides frolicking in the rain. Although, sometimes we would agree to give the dog a bath in our collection.
And in high school I had a few friends with a habit of driving into parking lots where huge puddles formed, then rushing out of the car to stomp and splash like five-year-olds. If it was nighttime, we'd simply aim the car's headlights in the general vicinity of the best puddles. We'd end up soaked through, laughing until our stomachs ached, and completely jubilant. Clearly I wasn't a particularly rebellious teenager.
So, I no longer have a garage or a yard with downspouts, my dad and brothers live in different states than me, and it's been awhile since I found anyone with a penchant for puddle jumping. Regardless, I still find myself aflutter with anticipation whenever a summer storm starts to roll in.
stormfront \08.05\
Full View
Labels:
storm
I find myself amazed at the evolution of a clear blue sky into a dark and ominous storm cell. The colors in the sky and the shapes in the clouds are usually most entrancing in that short calm before the storm. In those moments, I find myself concurrently appreciating the scene and anticipating the next phase. Somehow I manage to find an inherent peace in Mother Nature's turmoil.
This fascination isn't new, I have many childhood and adolescent memories tied to stormy summer days. My dad and I used to open the garage door as a storm rolled in and set up lawn chairs at its edge. We would bring our books, sometimes a newspaper, and sit in companionable silence while we watched and felt the storm around us.
On rainy days, when the thunder and lightning were absent, my brothers and I would ravage the garage for buckets, wheelbarrows, wagons, anything that could hold water. Smaller containers would be placed under downspouts around the perimeter of the house. As a container filled, we would replace it with an empty and relay the rainwater contents to a wheelbarrow. There was no real purpose to this activity besides frolicking in the rain. Although, sometimes we would agree to give the dog a bath in our collection.
And in high school I had a few friends with a habit of driving into parking lots where huge puddles formed, then rushing out of the car to stomp and splash like five-year-olds. If it was nighttime, we'd simply aim the car's headlights in the general vicinity of the best puddles. We'd end up soaked through, laughing until our stomachs ached, and completely jubilant. Clearly I wasn't a particularly rebellious teenager.
So, I no longer have a garage or a yard with downspouts, my dad and brothers live in different states than me, and it's been awhile since I found anyone with a penchant for puddle jumping. Regardless, I still find myself aflutter with anticipation whenever a summer storm starts to roll in.
Heading into my freshman year of high school, I became involved in a long-term relationship. There's no way that I could see then how impactful it would be from a macro view of my life. Like anything brand new, I was a bit tentative at first. But I became enamored so quickly that a full commitment didn't take long.
During those four years of high school, we were inseparable. My world revolved around that relationship in a way that made it obvious I was never letting go. Then college started, new people and stimuli were there to distract me. My torrid love started going hot and cold, getting re-prioritized closer to the bottom of the list.
In the years that have followed, our relationship has continued to be spotty at best. I often wonder why, since we're such a natural fit. Wilson has been through so much with me. Even though his hyper carbon and graphite frame is sorely out of date, I still love how his grip feels in mine. We make beautiful ground strokes together.
Yes, I'm talking about a tennis racquet and not a real man. Today was probably the first time I've hit a ball in at least a year. And every time the interval is that long, without fail, I come away wondering why. There is something so cathartic and familiar about the court, even when some of my shots aren't worthy of a 1.0 rating.
Watching tennis never gets away from me; it's easy to keep that up through any season and it can be done from the comfort of my couch. Playing tennis requires effort: the season has to be right, a partner has to be found, and court availability can be elusive in the city.
But when there's something that you love and connect with like that, it should be like any human relationship - you should fight like hell to make it fit in your life. So, I'll try harder. Because few things beat the feeling of a well-placed and cleanly struck ball.
hello, old friend \08.03\
Full View
Labels:
tennis
Heading into my freshman year of high school, I became involved in a long-term relationship. There's no way that I could see then how impactful it would be from a macro view of my life. Like anything brand new, I was a bit tentative at first. But I became enamored so quickly that a full commitment didn't take long.
During those four years of high school, we were inseparable. My world revolved around that relationship in a way that made it obvious I was never letting go. Then college started, new people and stimuli were there to distract me. My torrid love started going hot and cold, getting re-prioritized closer to the bottom of the list.
In the years that have followed, our relationship has continued to be spotty at best. I often wonder why, since we're such a natural fit. Wilson has been through so much with me. Even though his hyper carbon and graphite frame is sorely out of date, I still love how his grip feels in mine. We make beautiful ground strokes together.
Yes, I'm talking about a tennis racquet and not a real man. Today was probably the first time I've hit a ball in at least a year. And every time the interval is that long, without fail, I come away wondering why. There is something so cathartic and familiar about the court, even when some of my shots aren't worthy of a 1.0 rating.
Watching tennis never gets away from me; it's easy to keep that up through any season and it can be done from the comfort of my couch. Playing tennis requires effort: the season has to be right, a partner has to be found, and court availability can be elusive in the city.
But when there's something that you love and connect with like that, it should be like any human relationship - you should fight like hell to make it fit in your life. So, I'll try harder. Because few things beat the feeling of a well-placed and cleanly struck ball.
I decided to incentivize for myself this morning. While I needed to exercise, I wanted to see The Dark Knight Rises. Solution: 3.5 mile bike ride brought me to the theater, roughly 2.5 hours spent at the movie, rounded out with a 3.5 mile return trip.
And did you know that there is such a thing as $6 movie tickets in Chicago? Just manage to get yourself to AMC River East for a pre-noon show. It sort of makes you feel like you won the lottery. Obviously it's not the most popular show time; I shared the theater with ten other moviegoers maximum.
This was my first solo movie theater experience, but it ended up being pretty small scale in comparison to leaving the country alone for a month. Actually, it didn't feel much different than watching a movie alone on my own couch, except the screen was much bigger. I wasn't even cognizant of the people around me. If you've never done a typical joint or group activity on your own, I recommend trying it - even if it's just to realize that it's not as intimidating as you may build it up to be.
On an abstractly similar note, I took one of those psychological type assessments today (supposedly based on typology by Jung & Briggs Myers). I can't help myself, I'm a sucker for assessments. Imagine my lack of surprise when my four predominant psychological types were introverted, intuitive, thinking, judging.
going solo \08.02\
Full View
Labels:
color,
theater
And did you know that there is such a thing as $6 movie tickets in Chicago? Just manage to get yourself to AMC River East for a pre-noon show. It sort of makes you feel like you won the lottery. Obviously it's not the most popular show time; I shared the theater with ten other moviegoers maximum.
This was my first solo movie theater experience, but it ended up being pretty small scale in comparison to leaving the country alone for a month. Actually, it didn't feel much different than watching a movie alone on my own couch, except the screen was much bigger. I wasn't even cognizant of the people around me. If you've never done a typical joint or group activity on your own, I recommend trying it - even if it's just to realize that it's not as intimidating as you may build it up to be.
On an abstractly similar note, I took one of those psychological type assessments today (supposedly based on typology by Jung & Briggs Myers). I can't help myself, I'm a sucker for assessments. Imagine my lack of surprise when my four predominant psychological types were introverted, intuitive, thinking, judging.
In my spare, I have become a bit of a blog hunter. Some of them offer me tutorials for things like recipes and crafty stuff, others help me direct and consider life decisions, many simply show me that there are other people battling with the same concerns and vying for the same hopes as I am.
A lot of these blogs are one time visits for me, a handful hold my attention across multiple posts, but a select few grab my attention to the point that I start reading the archives like a novel.
Today I found myself wading through archives and I know I'll go back for more. One of the posts that caught me was about an activity that she called "worry cards". The short back story: she was have a meltdown and decided to wrap her arms around all of the stressors in her head.
Each worry was written on a card, then they were sorted into overarching categories. Each category was further pared down into things that couldn't be controlled, those that could, and things that were already done and over but still causing anxiety.
First, she addressed each worry that was out of her control, writing on the back of the cards what she wished the desired outcome of each to be. Since they're out of her control, there is no action to take, only acknowledgment. Next, she looked at the done and over pile, relegating them to the proper status of no longer relevant with a single sentence on the back of each card. Accept and move on.
Finally, there are those worries that can be attacked. How do they become less daunting? Simply by focusing on the first step that can be taken toward resolution. Write it on the back. Then put them in an order of attack, a ready-made task list to being worry free.
Although I can't say that I'm in meltdown mode right now, my over-analytical mind is constantly stewing on multiple things. It's such a logical way to bring clarity and structure to a mind running astray. The applications for an exercise like this can be useful across personal or professional instances.
If you want to check out the originator of this concept and her post, it's on the Make Under My Life blog.
night rider \08.01\
Full View
Labels:
bus,
night,
urban
A lot of these blogs are one time visits for me, a handful hold my attention across multiple posts, but a select few grab my attention to the point that I start reading the archives like a novel.
Today I found myself wading through archives and I know I'll go back for more. One of the posts that caught me was about an activity that she called "worry cards". The short back story: she was have a meltdown and decided to wrap her arms around all of the stressors in her head.
Each worry was written on a card, then they were sorted into overarching categories. Each category was further pared down into things that couldn't be controlled, those that could, and things that were already done and over but still causing anxiety.
First, she addressed each worry that was out of her control, writing on the back of the cards what she wished the desired outcome of each to be. Since they're out of her control, there is no action to take, only acknowledgment. Next, she looked at the done and over pile, relegating them to the proper status of no longer relevant with a single sentence on the back of each card. Accept and move on.
Finally, there are those worries that can be attacked. How do they become less daunting? Simply by focusing on the first step that can be taken toward resolution. Write it on the back. Then put them in an order of attack, a ready-made task list to being worry free.
Although I can't say that I'm in meltdown mode right now, my over-analytical mind is constantly stewing on multiple things. It's such a logical way to bring clarity and structure to a mind running astray. The applications for an exercise like this can be useful across personal or professional instances.
If you want to check out the originator of this concept and her post, it's on the Make Under My Life blog.