see as i saw

Two mornings with 3:30am wake-up calls in the same makes for a tired girl.  The end of the month, with the end of the year approaching, was in imperfect alignment with my desire to do nothing but pass out for a nice winter's nap.  So my friends for the day were coffee and music.

And at some point today, I managed to realize that tomorrow is December.  I have no idea what I did in November or how it disappeared so quickly.  Honestly, I always thought my parents were being melodramatic when I was younger and they'd say something about how quickly time passes.  That was back in the day when the distance to Christmas break always seemed interminable.

The arrival of December also means that I'm down to one month remaining in this blog-a-day mission that I set in the waning days of 2011.  I've been thinking about how I want to proceed when the calendar flips to 2013.  Although there's no definitive course, the daily photo and writing requirements are taxing at times.  I can virtually guarantee that this blog won't continue to be daily. Perhaps instead of trying to force inspiration daily, I'll post when inspiration (visual or rhetoric) strikes.

I would say that I shouldn't worry about it too much, because I have time.  But I've already covered that.  Time flies.

 I am happy to report that my streak remains alive.  While walking home from work tonight, I was sidelined by a directionally-challanged tourist who apparently thought I looked like I knew the answers.  And I did.  Of course, I was also harangued by a woman who was looking for my reaction to the assertion that she could show me the female image of God.

Life in the New York office is such an interesting change of pace.  The conversations are different, the amount of stock in the kitchen is different, the male to female ratio is clearly on the other end of the scale.

Of the many productive things accomplished today, we determined that there needed to be office parlance for a "hard stop" that has a small range.  So, for instance, having to finish a meeting between 4:00 and 4:15.  You really can't go past 4:15, but in an ideal world you'd escape at 4:00.  This shall now be known as a semi-malleable stop.  Pass it on.

This morning as I was grabbing some Cold Brew coffee out of the fridge (a little upgrade from my daily Starbucks Via), I was forewarned that there was a shortage of milk.  Due to the Cold Brew's high concentration, you'd better be immune to caffeine if you're going to drink it straight.  I opened the fridge to reveal four varieties of milk, including one non-dairy.  First world problems at their best.

My commute to the New York office is also a different experience.  Since it's only a mile from my lodging, I hoof it instead of taking the subway.  They say cardiovascular activity is good for you.  It also gives me an opportunity to witness, and occasionally join, a real-life game of frogger at every crosswalk.  No one looks at walk signals, they may as well remove them.

All of that considered, I'm still coming back for you, Chicago.  It's just nice to have an opportunity to shake things up every once in awhile.

Usually taking the 'early riser' flight minimizes the risk of late flights and plane issues.  The planes are patiently sitting and waiting for you to board them.  The flight crew can only be late if they happened to oversleep.  All of the diagnostics, fueling and stocking tasks should be long done.

Of course, I hadn't previously considered that the gate-checked luggage could get stuck in an elevator shaft, thus delaying our flight for 40 minutes while we waited for a mechanic.  At least it worked out well for one lucky individual, the guy who was technically twenty minutes late for the flight.


So after a 3:30am wake up, I managed to spend a full work day at the NYC office; my focus was close to nil by 6:00pm.  I checked into my corporate apartment, which feels so much better than a hotel room.  Although it's a studio, I'm pretty sure it's larger than my own studio in Chicago.  And the view of Midtown Manhattan from my 20th floor windows is a little different than the alleys I look out at from home.

In a city with such an array of choices, you would think that I set out to find myself some sights and flavors that I can't get at home.  Here's a let down for you.  I grabbed a box of Whole Foods' version of shells and cheese, a couple of cookies, and made my way back to the apartment to wear pajamas and watch Big Ten/ACC basketball.

I'll try to be more interesting tomorrow.  Tonight I'm just out of fuel.

Yes, Chicago, despite your wintry gray skies and freezing temperatures, I love you.  Despite that, I'm leaving you tomorrow.  To cheat on you with a city that many consider more prestigious.  We'll only be together for three days, so I hope you'll accept me back with open arms.

So I'm off to New York City tomorrow, before dawn even cracks, to visit the mother ship and add a few more tricks to my professional arsenal.  I found myself wondering if the streets of New York still have a constant odor of trash in the winter (I've only been there in August or September).  And for some reason I found myself feeling like I should set aside some time to peruse some of the iconic festive sights.

It's funny, because in Chicago I steer clear of the festive areas, clogged with tourists.  Of course, I've seen them all before, too.  No reason to subject myself to pandemonium when there's nothing new within it.  And after musing about the possible wintry smell of NYC, I walked outside into the Chicago twilight and it smelled like chocolate chip cookies.  It's one of those little things about the city that makes me smile.

And it sort of makes me think, for just a nanosecond, that the streets are going to start flowing with chocolate and my life will transform into a Willy Wonka movie.  Of course, there's always the dirty wet dog smell to convince me otherwise.  After four years, I'm pretty convinced that it tends to waft around the city on days with a combined high humidity and pollution level.

Do you remember, as a kid, when you got a new toy so coveted that you couldn't even consider leaving home without it?  That's how I'm feeling about my camera.  I'm afraid that if I don't have it with me at all times, I'm going to miss a prime photo opportunity.  And my Android camera just isn't going to instill the same giddy feelings in me.

Since I don't currently have a bag for my camera, I'm tentative about bringing it out into the wild.  Not to mention that I don't have a strap attached to the body, and the cold air makes me afraid of fumbling through gloved hands.  I did go for a little test drive through the Lincoln Park Conservatory today, after an owners manual reading session.


Although the camera managed to catch some interesting shots, I'd attribute that more to the naturally amazing baseline of a dSLR and some luck.  When playing with manual adjustments, I was just fooling around with only a scant idea of why I'd nudge the setting up or down a level.  The good news is that I'm excited to learn; being the nerd that I am, learning and projects are exciting to me.

If anyone happens to know Chicagoland locations that would provide rich atmospheres for test driving my gear, I'm all ears.

I bought myself a little present today.  It just couldn't wait any longer.  When faced with the option of turning left, entering the expressway, and heading back to Chicago or continuing straight, directly toward the camera shop...my instincts took over.

I already felt good about buying my camera from this shop.  It's a locally-owned joint, so I was supporting the lesser known cousin to Black Friday and Cyber Monday - Shop Local Saturday.  Sales tax in Michigan is only 6% (by local, I meant my home state).  The guy who showed me the cameras yesterday talked to me like a knowledgeable and intelligent being, despite knowing I'm a novice.  Then to top it all off, today we bonded over a desire to own hectares (a.k.a. property) in Costa Rica.

And so I have become the proud parent of a very feature-rich piece of electronic equipment.  Part of me wishes that I could already have it mastered by tomorrow, so that fabulous photos are only a snap away.  The other part of me relishes the learning curve, something to throw myself into.  I've probably never been so eager to read an owner's manual; generally I don't even crack the cover open.

So today I bring you two shots: one of my new baby (yes, by the way, I did go Canon in the end) and the second being a casual test shot on auto mode from the lens of that new baby.  If that's what images look like in auto mode with low light, you cannot imagine my excitement for what else is on the horizon.

Against my best interests, and my own personal promise to the contrary, I ended up inside of a Best Buy on Black Friday.  I didn't camp outside or even wait.  My parking spot was midway down the row closest to the door.  Needless to say, I arrived far after the door busters ended.

My intention was to just wait for my mom as she returned a surround sound system.  Her line was so long that I started to wander.  I happened upon a portable hard drive with a terabyte of storage for $70, something I've been telling myself to buy since I invested in my MacBook Air.  Might as well pick one up.

Seeing that my mom was still only halfway through the line, I headed toward the digital cameras.  I thought maybe they'd have some dSLRs with charged batteries for me to play with.  It was a little too congested, apparently cameras are popular gift items.  I did strike gold in the accessories aisle, where 16GB memory cards for dSLRs were marked down from $40 to $9.99.

Despite my strongest loathing for Black Friday, I found two items that I wanted and were worthy enough sales to...wait in line.  The line was winding through the home appliances and an internal battle occurred as I took my place at the end.  It could have been much worse, and I'm sure it was earlier, but the ten minutes that I waited was enough to test my patience.

Now that I was committed to the memory card, I might as well head over to a local camera shop for a little hands on time.  Luckily that's not exactly a door buster type of retailer.  Although there were other customers in the store, I walked right in to a helpful sales associate.  And despite thinking that I knew what I wanted, he managed to plant a Canon seed in my mind.  Regardless, I don't think I'll be leaving this town without a camera.

You couldn't possibly have expected anything other than gratuitous photos of Thanksgiving food.  It was all delicious and I happily ate too much of it.  I made sure to be thankful that I was able to eat too much, while watching the Detroit Lions lose on Thanksgiving.  Again.

And per usual at my extended family gatherings, I found myself wondering if other people's families are as oddly raucous.  It's difficult to explain the dynamic; you sort of have to experience it.  All I know is that I would never want to be a stranger walking into it for the first time.  Every time someone introduces a new boyfriend or girlfriend into the mix, I always keep an eye on them, wondering if they'll try to sidle out the back door.

The first word that comes to mind is loud.  Everyone trying to talk at once.  Some people raising the volume of their voice to be heard, others increasing the shrillness in their tone.  And, unfortunately, as the day wears on, those two tactics tend to blend into one: loud and shrill.  There's also bound to be pounding, laughing, random bursts of off-key singing.

Conversations blend along a continuum from normal (sports, school, jobs) to long-standing family inside jokes to thinly-veiled inappropriate jibes.  As everyone in my generation gets older, the veil is pretty close to fully removed and we regularly hear our parents throw around sexually-tinged jokes.

Sometimes I hit a wall, the noise and activity becomes overwhelming.  My head starts to pound and I start to shut down, dreaming of walking quietly through an empty forest.  Yet, in the back of my head I know that I couldn't possibly imagine having a man in my life who couldn't handle these chaotic family gatherings.  It's sort of a deal-breaker.  So I guess I must kind of like my crazy family.

This morning began on an unexpected note.  I have a habit, probably a bad one, of looking at my phone, immediately after waking, while I'm lying in bed .  It seems to help me jump start my brain and convince it that pushing snooze a fifth time is a bad idea.  This morning one of the emails in my inbox was a shocking awakening, one that has stuck with me all day.

When I first moved to Chicago, I became acquainted with a group of girls and we generally hung out every couple of weeks.  We didn't all have much in common with one another, so many of us drifted apart within a year or so.  But I have always been appreciative of this crew, because they were my first feeling of foundation in the urban jungle.

This morning I learned that one of those girls has been battling cancer for nearly two years and she passed away yesterday.  Despite the fact that we haven't spoken in years, the news hit me with a surreal thud.  My mind reeled through so many disparate thoughts, having difficulty in finding understanding in how someone that young and energetic is simply gone.  My heart aches for her family, her husband, and her close friends.  I can't imagine, and I hope to never experience, that pain.

So as we head into a day whose meaning can be overshadowed by food and football, this certainly puts my mind on the gratitude track (no doubt, I'm also grateful for food and football).  Despite my travails of the past couple of weeks, I am grateful for this life I lead - even if it's only because I am present and able to live it.

Perhaps thanks to a hybrid of my stress level and the impending winter weather, I've been at odds with public transportation lately.  We've hit that apex in the year when buses start to pass you by, because they're already packed full.  Or every time I'm ready to leave, the next bus is 25 minutes away.  Odds are high, especially on certain routes, that someone will be crazy and someone else will be obnoxious.

I understand the other side of the argument, too.  There are no worries about finding a parking spot. If I've had a few glasses of wine, I don't have to be concerned about how I'll get home.  Dealing with crazy people operating automobiles is generally more threatening than the crazy guy in the next bus seat.

But there are many moments where I just crave the simplicity of jumping in my car, pulling up in front of the store or gym, and heading inside.  Then when I'm ready to leave, my mode of transportation is ready to sweep me away home.  I don't have to wait for it to arrive, it doesn't stop every block.  The few times that I've driven to work, it was amazing how much time was shaved off of my commute.

There may be some added sensitivity in light of the announcement about increased CTA fares in 2013.  My monthly pass is getting hiked up 16% to $100 per month.  That's hefty.  But unless they're also deciding to stop charging for garage parking in the Loop, you'll continue to see me board the bus every workday.

Forewarning, this post is likely to wander into stream of consciousness.  Blame it on an overwrought brain or the verge of of sickness.  I'm positive that my penchant for soup over the past three days stems from the cold that's attempting to wage war with my immune system.  That scratch in the throat, the pressure in the sinuses, that's what has me grasping at the hot, brothy goodness.  And that's how I ended up with a custom order (with assistance from my gracious cashier) at Corner Bakery today.  Nothing beats tomato soup and grilled cheese when you're feeling wintry.

Besides soup, there is one other thing that I thought about today.  Trusting my gut, even when it's inconvenient.  My instincts have a habit of being correct.  At the rate that I think and analyze things, I would expect that I've built up a deep well of reference points for my instinct.  Despite knowing this, I have a tendency to ignore or push them off sometimes.

Tonight I fought through the inconvenience, engaged in what I needed to do even though I wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort of my couch, and it didn't take much effort to realize that I chose correctly.  In addition to averting a bad situation, I also quelled my own anxiety in wondering if I made the right decision.

So, from grilled cheese and tomato soup to gut feelings and decision making, that's how I've defined my Monday.  Is it Thursday yet?  I'm dreaming of Thanksgiving.

For the past day and a half, I've been ruminating on a mantra that my Saturday morning yoga instructor introduced to us.  It's a Sanskrit word: swaha.  As soon as she began describing its meaning, I wondered how she had dug inside of my head.  After class, I did a little more digging on its origins.

I cut and pasted together an essential meaning that makes sense to me: uplifting oneself by surrendering the ego and releasing it into the fire.  'Swaha' is a mantra, which makes it akin to a mental action, a keyword to remind you to engage.

Too often, I take offense or get overwrought worrying about what other people say to me or think about me.  I get caught up in how inappropriately people act or treat myself and others.  But I can't control other people, I can only control how I react and think about them.

The first part of this equation is something I've thought about and focused on before.  In fact, it's likely contained in another one of these 322 posts.  To some measure, I've managed to rein in my reactionary tendencies, whether that means an external or internal reaction.

But just because I've averted the negative flow of emotion, it doesn't mean I've taken my ego out of it.  I'm still likely to let a single instance of someone else's action or opinions affect me - whether it's my view of them or myself.  So although I began teaching myself how to quell the reaction, the effects still linger.

I seem to be going through a period right now where it feels like I'm struggling to keep a lot of balls in the air.  So it's easy to get down on myself.  'Swaha' may be just a word, but it's a simpler way of reminding myself to remove my ego from an event and relinquish it, forget about it, let it cease to exist.  And with that, perhaps it won't be the end of my struggling, but at least I can hope that it'll help keep me mentally afloat.

It's still a little strange for me to be this open about the things swirling in my head.  I suppose there's a certain sense of invisibility about digital communication, allowing me to feel like I'm writing to no one.  And there's also a little bit of that removal of ego that I've learned to embrace this year.

In a single day, the human body has both awed and betrayed me.

If you take step back from your every day perspective and really watch what a body is capable of - speed, flexibility, movement, strength - it's almost perplexing.  These aspects can be easier to appreciate when you're a spectator, witnessing someone else's body take on these feats.

But there are also those moments when your own body can amaze you.  Usually for me, those moments occur when I manage to knock down the boundaries that my mind has set for my body.  They tend to be fleeting, but powerful nonetheless.

Unfortunately, as swiftly as your body impresses you, it can also let you down.  You wake up with that slightly agitated feeling in the back of your throat.  It grows into a consistent scratchiness as the day wears on.  The sinuses start to feel heavy and you find yourself fatigued, despite doing nothing.

I suppose, in some way, even the body's betrayal deserves a certain measure of awe.  And now this complex machine of mine is tired and needs to give its immune system a fighting chance.

By now you've likely noticed a trend if you've been reading these posts all week.  Things haven't exactly been sunshine and rainbows.  Today was another ball buster, with my work day finishing at 8:00pm.  It should be no surprise that the last thing on my list tonight was motivation.  For anything.  That includes blog posts and photos.  

So I jokingly implored my best friend to do it for me.  And the true mark of a best friend is that she realized how much truth was in my joke, then sent me a guest blog post...and a photo.  After 322 days of my ramblings, musings and reflections, it's time to switch things up.  Thus, I bring you the inaugural guest post:

Because I love my best friend so much, and because my Friday night consists of nothing more than watching some movies (too embarrassing to name) and knitting, I agreed to write a blog post. It will probably be my first, and last, since I am not a writer.

As I sit on the couch with my poochies, covered in a quilt I made and knitting a washcloth, I wonder when I got so old. I am not yet 30 (almost though) and I am happy to stay in and relax and craft. If you had asked me 5 years ago if I would be happy to stay in on a Friday I would have called you crazy, but at some point a switch was flipped and I'd rather craft and drink a couple glasses of wine on a Friday night then go out on the town.

There is something rather comforting about a relaxing night at home, it is, after all, winter, gets dark early and I'm gone most nights of the week coaching, and I don't get to relax. No matter what the reason is, it is the way I will probably continue to send most of my Fridays, and Saturdays. And I won't be ashamed to admit that I like it. As lame as it may seem.

Sometimes when life hands you lemons and, instead of lemonade, it delivers your Amazon.com book order a day earlier than expected.  When you return home, tired of the bitter taste that those lemons, there's something so sweet about the phrase "Pull Tab to Open".  For now, I have to subsist on photographing and dreaming about prying open those covers.  Tomorrow, though, we dance.

Despite the hectic, insane, breakneck agenda that claimed my day, I found two hours this evening to fit in a creative writing workshop.  Obviously I write something daily, and I'm consistently reading two books at once, but I wouldn't consider myself imbued with the gift of storytelling.

I always finding it somewhat comforting to put pen to paper, even when it's rough and undeveloped.  Something else that I took away from this workshop, though, is how easy it is to take good writing for granted.  As the instructor worked with us, she urged development by asking questions about the scene or the character, prodding us for more detail and enlightenment.  It makes you consider how seamlessly a good writer can bake in sensory perceptions and spatial relations, but all you're comprehending is the aggregate scene.

Although I already have a tendency to observe writing style when I pick up a new book, I have a feeling that I'll be paying attention to the more nuanced aspects of engaging writing now.  Honestly, how anyone can not be in loving with reading and writing is beyond my conception.

Sometimes you have days that manage to hit you with the force of a cement truck.  All you want to do is make them stop or forget they happened.  So I did both of the aforementioned and I'm not going to elucidate on any part of my day.  I'll assume today's photo is worth a thousand words on that topic.

Instead I'm going to delve into one of life's most engaging, and light-hearted, topics.  Puppies.  I can tell who my true friends are, because they participate in ritualistic self-torture with me - exchanging photos and videos of puppies so cute that it makes you squirm.  Honestly, how can you deny a face like this or furballs like these?

And, yet, I do resist them.  My life is not suitable to the ownership of pets at this juncture.  First of all, because they would often be left unattended from 8:00am to 9:00pm (sometimes later) and my rational brain realizes that this is unfair.  Second of all, because I live in 550 square feet that's barely large enough for me.

Let's be real, elevator rides and walking several blocks for bathroom breaks are also a minor deterrent.  Add winter weather to the mix and the aforementioned becomes a major deterrent.  I see those urban dog owners out there at 9:00pm in their pajamas, while their canine pal sniffs the curb for the appropriate square inch of territory to mark.  At that moment in time, I'm not so envious.

So my dreams of having a dog child are relegated to the future, hopefully a future that incorporates a fenced-in plot of grass.  In the present, if all of my friends could work on acquiring puppies for me to play aunt to, that would be ideal.  Please and thank you.

I'm reading a book that I don't particularly enjoy.  It's all in the name of accomplishing that Randomhouse list of best books, which has taught me that everyone has a different definition of "best".  Looking on the bright side though, the book did bring me one phrase that piqued my analytical mind.

"...she smiled, thinking how many shapes one person might wear..."

On a day where I wanted to do nothing more than come home and make zero effort at anything, I started thinking about the shapes that I wear.  They're all me at the end of the day.  (I'm less than adept at things involving lying and faking.)  But what I'm learning as I get older is that "me" is not a single point on a grid.  It's more of an arc that lives in a certain quadrant of that grid.

We all learn how to stretch or censor our personalities depending on the people and occasions.  It's not natural for me to network in large groups of people I don't know, but I've learned how to fit who I am into that situation and do it my way.  Sometimes I'm exhausted and have a penchant to enmesh myself in silence, but I wouldn't imagine leaving work at 2:00pm and refuse to talk to people.

And if you have ever managed to catch me in a state of sheer joy, you've witnessed one of the extremes in that arc known as "me".  Giddy isn't a shape that I often wear, but I smile knowing that I possess it in my repertoire.

Let's do a little SAT-style word association.  You know what, I'll even just go ahead an fill in the blank for you.  Yesterday : T-shirt :: Today : Snow.  Yes, I already went over this in the previous post.  But now I've actually witnessed Chicago's first snowfall, it's currently resting on my car.

In unrelated news, I watched an entire NBA game tonight.  Despite being an avid sports girl, the NBA doesn't really make my list, so it's been more than awhile since the last time I sat down to take in a game.  Actually, it was my first Bulls game and my first time ever visiting Chicago.  December 2005, the United Center hosted a sports career fair.

That was back in the day when I thought sports marketing was my career path.  It was also the weekend that I made up my mind to live in Chicago.   Although it wouldn't transpire until three years after that career fair, here I am seven years later.  In the snow.  Thinking about last year at this time, when I made life-altering decisions.  Refer back to the post from 11/05 for more on my affinity for year-end decision-making.

For one shining moment or, if we want to get literal, one mile, I believed in the presence of autumn.  Real autumn.  The air smelled like dry leaves, the breeze was warm, and I was walking around in jeans and t-shirt.  I suppose it was a little stronger than a breeze, more like blowing gusts that foretold of what was to come.

By early evening, the rain started and the temperature started to dip ever so slightly.  Enough to make jackets necessary again.  In what I'd officially call the nighttime hours, I could see my breath clouding in the air as I waited for a bus.  What currently falls as rain is expected to transform into a chance of snow in the overnight hours.

Thus, we've reached winter.  Things can change so quickly.  It doesn't take a long passage of time for something to shift or transform.  It can happen in less than the full rotation of a clock's hands, or even as the popular saying goes - in the blink of an eye.  Just a thought that was running through my head, reminding me yet again to appreciate the moment and be thankful, even when it seems easier to focus otherwise.

It's no secret that I've been craving travel and an injection of the thrill that comes from new places.  Unfortunately there are still many restless months ahead of me.  So I had to go with plan B, seeking new places on a more micro level.

I decided to go with the path of least resistance, hop a northbound #22 bus, and visit a little Chicagoan slice of Sweden.  Andersonville.  I've heard a few people in recent weeks extolling how cute it is with it's independent shops and neighborhood-y vibe.

After browsing the non-corporate options for coffe, I chose an unassuming cafe with a section of floor pillows with low tables and foreign currencies stapled to the pillars.  I thought about hanging around to people watch, but a storm was brewing and I wanted to wander a bit.

I ducked in a store here and there.  Peeked into windows and at menus for bars and restaurants that opened at later hours.  Amused myself with an eclectic and disarrayed collection of antiques and misfit odds & ends.

As I wandered out of my short exploratory jaunt, a rain storm threw me into the arms of Gap.  The reverie of novel adventure was broken and as the storm ceased, I walked out with a bag of goods and aimed my feet in the direction of my warm and comfortable couch.  It was a nice mini adventure to get my synapses firing and my curiosity piqued.  Unfortunately it's not likely to satisfy my craving beyond 24 hours, but that's okay.  I'd be more worried if the craving went away.

Your efforts are not always rewarded.  Your expectations are not always met.  People don't always treat you as they'd want to be treated.  And it's difficult not to hang your head, scowl, yell or engage somehow within the reactionary spectrum.

So you throw yourself into yoga.  You read a book.  You stay home for a solo Friday night and try to recoup your sanity.  Maybe you eat a little chocolate.  Or even a lot.  You take a long walk, gulping in the fresh air.  You remind yourself to breathe in, breathe out, and keep on going.

I ran across a meme today that said, "I miss being the age when I thought I would have my act together by the time I was the age I am now".  Sounds about right.  I'm convinced that there's no such thing as grown up, only constant growing up.

Some days are just off-kilter.  From nearly the beginning, this was one of those days.  An off-kilter day isn't the same as a disastrous one, where you can immediately pinpoint a catalyst.  For me, it starts with an underlying disjointed feeling, then slowly crescendos throughout the day.  Suddenly you're anxious, impatient and erupting without really understanding why.

And today I found that this juncture is where yoga is my friend.  For most of the session, my mind is working so hard to convince my body to be malleable that I don't have time to be caught up in the nitty gritty details of my day.  Today offered up a rather fitting mental exercise as well.

As we began class, focusing our minds and bodies, the instructor asked us to assign ourselves a mantra, completing the phrase "I am..."  Quickly cataloging my day, and maybe even a macro level of my life, I struck upon the realization that most of my tension was caused by my reactions to other peoples actions.

So my mantra became, "I am in control of my reactions".  There's not much I can do about what others say or do; my only power comes in the form of how I handle what happens around me or to me.  It's my choice to be upset or calm, the build something up or let it lie.

In an ideal world, this single yoga class would magically evaporate any future tension caused by reactions and expectations.  As a realist, I know that I'm bound to fail at it again...and again.  But I have to imagine that being cognizant, and reminding myself, that I'm in control will ultimately help.  Maybe it'll make me stop, think, breathe - thirty seconds of stepping outside the issue can deter escalation.

I mean, I could be all wrong.  I'm not a psychologist or anything.  My only other explanation, though, is that I forgot my earbuds this morning.  It was a rough deficit for the day, so there's a possibility that it threw everything out of equilibrium.

Sometimes there isn't much on my mind, believe it or not.  Today is one of those days.  I made it as far as the entry way after work, put on my pajamas, and settled into the couch.  Despite the voices in my head telling me to work out or work on something, I lounged, chilled, vegetated, whatever verb you'd like to use.

My greatest use of contemplative energy was how to use the five days of paid time off that I have this year, when I'm not going anywhere.  We have to supply our requests so that the managers can ensure coverage during the holidays.  So maybe I'll take off December 26 and a few random Fridays.  I'm horrible at using time off if I don't have plans to leave the country; next year's days are already numbered and accounted for.

So I guess I'll end on this note.  Today I'm thankful for the abundance in my life that I often take for granted.  Such as the fact that having more vacation days than I do plans is a problem.  Or that my company is funding lunches for the entire company from Monday through Thursday during the fourth quarter, so that we can remain focused.

Yes, that is the phrase often used to teach children about crossing the street.  We'd do well to heed as adults, but in a slightly different manner.  Life has a tendency to get busier as we transition into and through adulthood.  Maybe we start thinking one task or step ahead of where we are and what we're doing.  Or perhaps we just lose track of another lesson common to childhood, minding our 'Ps and Qs'.

I've tried to start being more cognizant of this in recent months and attempt to alter my own behaviors in areas where I'm an offender.  I make an effort to greet my bus driver and exit the front door with a "thank you".  And when everyone clambers to make it on to a crowded bus, cutting people off, I first have to remember to keep my composure over their rudeness.  Then I wait for my turn.  If I don't make it, there's bound to be another bus in less than ten minutes or two other routes a couple blocks away.

Today I went to an independently-owned lunch spot, where I remembered the owner to be a great man.  So when I stepped to the counter to make my order, instead of just barking out a menu item, I smiled and said hello.  When he asked me how I was doing, I responded and mirrored the question.  He smiled in return, said he was well, and told me in a thick middle eastern accent, "Nice always to see you".  I think we both made one another's day.

Or the other day, when the cashier at a store asked to see my credit card and ID.  I held them out for him while he finished folding the shirt I was buying.  And for that simple act, he thanked me.  He said that usually people just tossed them on the counter as if he were either contagious or they were annoyed.  We had another thirty seconds of lighthearted conversation before he smiled and wished me a wonderful day.

It's so simple.  Thank your cashier.  Treat your server like a human instead of peon.  Hold a door for a perfect stranger, even if you have to wait three seconds for them to reach the door.  I'm still not perfect at remembering all of my common courtesies, but I'm trying to make it more habitual.  I find it promising that I often mentally kick myself a few minutes too late when I do forget.

Quite simply, in-person absentee voting is marvelous.  Ten minutes from entry to exit.  As I left the polling location, I tried to remember my life status when I voted in the last Presidential election four years ago.

I was on the cusp of life change.  My plan to move to Chicago had just come to fruition with a job offer.  In fact, I think I was on my way to do whirlwind apartment hunting the next weekend.  That vote was my last civic duty as a citizen in the state of Michigan.

From there, my stream of consciousness drifted to last November, when I made the definitive decision to quit the job that brought me here three years previous.  And, oh wait, I also quit my first job out of college in December and decided to go to grad school.

Moral of the story is that I have a flare for significant life changes right around the close of the year.  So I suppose I was a little early this year.  Although spring is more commonly considered a transformative time of year, my entire family seems to roll with winter change.  No worries, I don't have any 180 degree turns on the shelf for the next month or two.

I know people dispose of toilets in the suburban and rural worlds too.  I just can't ever recall walking past one on my way home.  And this one has been there for three days now, it was asking to be photographed.  

I've started seeing this every day as I wait at my usual bus stop.  And it makes me grit my teeth, every day.  Don't get me wrong, I'm impressed with the effort and showmanship of Zoo Lights.  It's just that I refuse to accept November 1st as the beginning of Christmas season.

Go ahead, call me Scrooge or Grinch; you wouldn't be the first.  While you're at it, though, tell Starbucks to put away their festive red coffee cups.  Inform Lowe's that ornaments and twinkle lights are not yet in season, so they can hold the TV ads.  And put the brakes on stacking tree stands and stockings next to the clearance-priced Halloween candy.

What's so wrong with taking twenty two days to appreciate and look forward to Thanksgiving?  It has everything worth anticipating: food, football, family.  Must we skip right past the day of giving thanks?

Once we hit Black Friday, do what you will with your tidings and cheer.  Paint the town red.  Throw up your bells and holly and lights.  Direct masses of consumers to swoop through your doors and spend, spend, spend.  I can't even argue with holiday music by that time (though I can still begrudge any holiday song that is not by *NSYNC or Mariah Carey).

For the record, it's not just the early mania for Christmas that gets under my skin; Halloween does not start the first week of September, nor does Valentine's Day need to begin before we've even stopped to revere MLK Jr.  Christmas just seems to arrive early AND with heightened fanfare over these other days.  Mostly I just love Thanksgiving, and I wish our society wouldn't throw it under the bus in an effort to fast forward to the next holiday.

Yes, I really did sort my packet of fun size M&Ms by color, then quantity, and flipped every other row with the branding facing down.  As a disclaimer, I would like to note that although I can be pretty anal retentive, this particular act was more about procrastination.

It's been one of those weeks where I can't remember the last time that I saw the sun.  Every morning has been an exercise in hitting the snooze button five times.  It's dark outside when I wake up, as far as I know it's gray outside all day, then I leave work and it's darkness again.  Ah, yes, tis the season for seasonal mood disorder.  Or seasonal affective disorder, if you prefer.  I think they just started calling it that to have an ironic acronym: SAD.

I've never had much love for November.  If it wasn't for Thanksgiving, I'd be willing to wipe it off the calendar completely.  There's something about the drab, gloomy, shortening days that makes me say, "No thank you".  I could even make do with the cold if I could just get some more sunshine and daylight hours.

People like to tell me that I should move south or to San Diego if I hate winter.  The problem with that is how much I love spring, summer and autumn in the Midwest (and I don't hate winter, per se).  Essentially, I just need to become a snowbird at a premature age.  November to March, you could find me in Costa Rica.  Then I'd head back just in time to see nature's spring awakening.  Sounds great in theory.

In the meantime, I'll work on different angles to counteract the sunlessness of my days.  One of the benefits of sunlight that you lose in winter is a higher level of serotonin.  Luckily regular workouts are known to increase serotonin, so I'm working on making it happen.  So far I've successfully made it to three yoga classes, in hopes of not only improving the condition of my spine, but keeping a mental balance.  Namaste.