Showing posts with label buildings. Show all posts
By the nature of my job duties, I sift through inordinate amounts of internet content. Even if I don't stop to read full articles, every day is a veritable Cliff's Notes of news, informative articles and pop culture.
This prologue has a point.
Today I learned about the revival of the original Herbal Essences. The kind with a scent that could somewhat rightfully claim the herbal title. I was a loyal purchaser, turned detractor when they changed up the whole product line. Thanks to dying market share, they're looking for people like me and hoping we'll come traipsing back to their shelves for a revival.
Well, they may win, sort of. At least in the short term. I will, in fact, purchase their product again - thanks in part to my prior affinity, as well as a marketable decision to make the products sulfate-free. There will be no total buy-in until a test period has concluded, though. Plus, they have to overcome the fact that I'm quite happy with my Aussie conditioner.
Word on the street also suggests that you'll see at least one new adaptation of those shower scene commercials around the Grammy awards. (I may be seriously grasping at straws for blog topics now. Hair products...really? Oh well.)
snowfall & rooftops \12.28\
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Labels:
buildings,
neighborhood,
snow,
winter
This prologue has a point.
Today I learned about the revival of the original Herbal Essences. The kind with a scent that could somewhat rightfully claim the herbal title. I was a loyal purchaser, turned detractor when they changed up the whole product line. Thanks to dying market share, they're looking for people like me and hoping we'll come traipsing back to their shelves for a revival.
Well, they may win, sort of. At least in the short term. I will, in fact, purchase their product again - thanks in part to my prior affinity, as well as a marketable decision to make the products sulfate-free. There will be no total buy-in until a test period has concluded, though. Plus, they have to overcome the fact that I'm quite happy with my Aussie conditioner.
Word on the street also suggests that you'll see at least one new adaptation of those shower scene commercials around the Grammy awards. (I may be seriously grasping at straws for blog topics now. Hair products...really? Oh well.)
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.
twinkle, twinkle big city \11.13\
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Labels:
buildings,
downtown,
holiday,
lights
"...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.
A disclaimer for the next 72 hours: I cannot promise the timeliness nor quality of blog posts. My life is reaching the apex of it's recent rat race pace.
After an hour and a half nap, I am soon heading to Midway on a midnight airport pick-up run. From there, I head directly with my human cargo to the homeland - Grand Rapids. I'm hoping to sleep from approximately 4:00 to 7:00 a.m., at which point I will have to rise (and doubtfully shine).
Throwing a quick shower in the mix, I'll be back on the road. Next destination: Novi. There I'll spend the majority of the day working from an adopted home with my former partner in workday crime. A working reunion of sorts.
Throw in some hair-doing and getting dressed, somehow 3:30 p.m. will roll around all too quickly, and it'll be time to hit the road again. On to Howell, where wedding bells are tolling. The party is bound to roll into some wee hours, hopefully I won't be asleep on my feet at some point. If only there was the post-reception promise of rest for the weary.
Instead, the plan is family tailgate time for the Spartan homecoming game. Since that's a noon kick-off, call time for pre-game festivities is about 8:00 a.m. So I'll be back to doing what I know best by no later than 7:30 a.m. - driving. Tailgate. Watch football. Drive back to Grand Rapids.
From there I should have a full 24-hour hiatus on getting behind the wheel (please and thank you). I'm trying not to hold out hope for a full nine-hour sleep, too. Alas, Sunday afternoon will find me back on chauffer duty. I'll wistfully pass my exit and make the drop at O'Hare, then make an about face and head directly home.
And any other day, by that point, I would drop helplessly into my bed and only rise when the alarm tolled for work the next morning. But October 14th happens to be the premiere of The Walking Dead and, therefore, the revival of zombie Sundays. Since my brain is likely to be in a zombie-like state by that point, it's fitting to push myself through the night.
I'm tired already. And it's just getting started. Oy.
light, bright & angular \10.11\
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Labels:
bridge,
buildings,
downtown,
tree
After an hour and a half nap, I am soon heading to Midway on a midnight airport pick-up run. From there, I head directly with my human cargo to the homeland - Grand Rapids. I'm hoping to sleep from approximately 4:00 to 7:00 a.m., at which point I will have to rise (and doubtfully shine).
Throwing a quick shower in the mix, I'll be back on the road. Next destination: Novi. There I'll spend the majority of the day working from an adopted home with my former partner in workday crime. A working reunion of sorts.
Throw in some hair-doing and getting dressed, somehow 3:30 p.m. will roll around all too quickly, and it'll be time to hit the road again. On to Howell, where wedding bells are tolling. The party is bound to roll into some wee hours, hopefully I won't be asleep on my feet at some point. If only there was the post-reception promise of rest for the weary.
Instead, the plan is family tailgate time for the Spartan homecoming game. Since that's a noon kick-off, call time for pre-game festivities is about 8:00 a.m. So I'll be back to doing what I know best by no later than 7:30 a.m. - driving. Tailgate. Watch football. Drive back to Grand Rapids.
From there I should have a full 24-hour hiatus on getting behind the wheel (please and thank you). I'm trying not to hold out hope for a full nine-hour sleep, too. Alas, Sunday afternoon will find me back on chauffer duty. I'll wistfully pass my exit and make the drop at O'Hare, then make an about face and head directly home.
And any other day, by that point, I would drop helplessly into my bed and only rise when the alarm tolled for work the next morning. But October 14th happens to be the premiere of The Walking Dead and, therefore, the revival of zombie Sundays. Since my brain is likely to be in a zombie-like state by that point, it's fitting to push myself through the night.
I'm tired already. And it's just getting started. Oy.
Sometimes awareness brings us clarity, lends a solution, or aids in decision-making. But often awareness just makes us anxious, paranoid, and needlessly focused on things we can't really control.
I think that's why I have an issue with watching the local news. It only took thirty seconds tonight for me to hear that a Chicago firefighter died of West Nile virus and that meningitis is breaking out in Indiana. My first thought was, "Thankfully I have health insurance again" (eight months without it, now that's a fun exercise in anxiety). Then I started to worry a little, thinking about how close to home a freak tragedy, accident or illness can be.
So what's the solution to that? Stop living my life? Become a recluse? Give up the outdoors because I'm afraid of running into an infected mosquito or other contagious humans?
On other days, living in the city and hearing what goes down, the worry has extended to being mugged, shot or getting my car stolen. Oh, and we haven't even broached how secretly sinister people can be while coming off as well-adjusted members of society. Which is fine, you get the point (and hopefully I haven't sent you into a spiral of paranoia).
I'm all for erring on the side of caution and analysis in life, but there comes a point where you're better off not looking too closely. I like vacationing in equatorial countries with rain forests, so I wear bug spray and drink bottled water if I must. Short of an impenetrable force field, I'm pretty sure that's all I can do short of restricting myself from doing things I love.
the bend in the loop \10.04\
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Labels:
architecture,
buildings,
chicago,
downtown,
train
I think that's why I have an issue with watching the local news. It only took thirty seconds tonight for me to hear that a Chicago firefighter died of West Nile virus and that meningitis is breaking out in Indiana. My first thought was, "Thankfully I have health insurance again" (eight months without it, now that's a fun exercise in anxiety). Then I started to worry a little, thinking about how close to home a freak tragedy, accident or illness can be.
So what's the solution to that? Stop living my life? Become a recluse? Give up the outdoors because I'm afraid of running into an infected mosquito or other contagious humans?
On other days, living in the city and hearing what goes down, the worry has extended to being mugged, shot or getting my car stolen. Oh, and we haven't even broached how secretly sinister people can be while coming off as well-adjusted members of society. Which is fine, you get the point (and hopefully I haven't sent you into a spiral of paranoia).
I'm all for erring on the side of caution and analysis in life, but there comes a point where you're better off not looking too closely. I like vacationing in equatorial countries with rain forests, so I wear bug spray and drink bottled water if I must. Short of an impenetrable force field, I'm pretty sure that's all I can do short of restricting myself from doing things I love.
Some things that are constantly reinforced in my life: surprises are lurking everywhere and the past seems incapable of staying history. I'm purposely going to leave this declaration in a relatively enigmatic state. I swear that I make an effort to live a relatively unassuming and non-dramatic life, but it's worth noting that this diminishes none of the aforementioned enigmas.
In other news, my morning commute took an hour today. One culprit was a little friendly morning road work on a main thoroughfare, and confused drivers with limited mental capabilities for understanding the concept of merging.
But in a freakier twist of events, a standing passenger fainted in the bus aisle and we spent fifteen minutes awaiting medical attention. She regained consciousness quickly and, besides being a little disoriented and woozy, seemed like she'd be fine. What struck me about the whole event was how quickly and automatically the passengers immediately surrounding her snapped to action.
One girl noticed the glazed look in her eyes and started to support her before she was even in full faint. Another girl bore the body weight from the other side, while a guy moved her feet from under her to get her into a seated position on the floor. As she started coming to, a guy was already on the phone with 911 and an unopened bottle of water was summoned forth. As the minutes passed waiting for the medics, she was offered a seat, some granola, and a general outpouring of concern.
Although 90% of the passengers quickly removed themselves from the bus as soon as they realized we were stopping, there was a core who was more concerned about the well-being of a human being that getting to work by 9:00. The girl sitting behind me even started her conference call from her cell phone on the bus. And I bet no one on the other end had scathing retorts when she explained why.
I felt reassured about humanity this morning. About my generation. A small group of 20-somethings sprang to immediate action. There was no by-stander effect. And there was genuine compassion. Kudos to all of those class-act individuals. I'm proud to have shared a morning commute with you.
over the river & through the loop \09.25\
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Labels:
bridge,
buildings,
chicago,
downtown
In other news, my morning commute took an hour today. One culprit was a little friendly morning road work on a main thoroughfare, and confused drivers with limited mental capabilities for understanding the concept of merging.
But in a freakier twist of events, a standing passenger fainted in the bus aisle and we spent fifteen minutes awaiting medical attention. She regained consciousness quickly and, besides being a little disoriented and woozy, seemed like she'd be fine. What struck me about the whole event was how quickly and automatically the passengers immediately surrounding her snapped to action.
One girl noticed the glazed look in her eyes and started to support her before she was even in full faint. Another girl bore the body weight from the other side, while a guy moved her feet from under her to get her into a seated position on the floor. As she started coming to, a guy was already on the phone with 911 and an unopened bottle of water was summoned forth. As the minutes passed waiting for the medics, she was offered a seat, some granola, and a general outpouring of concern.
Although 90% of the passengers quickly removed themselves from the bus as soon as they realized we were stopping, there was a core who was more concerned about the well-being of a human being that getting to work by 9:00. The girl sitting behind me even started her conference call from her cell phone on the bus. And I bet no one on the other end had scathing retorts when she explained why.
I felt reassured about humanity this morning. About my generation. A small group of 20-somethings sprang to immediate action. There was no by-stander effect. And there was genuine compassion. Kudos to all of those class-act individuals. I'm proud to have shared a morning commute with you.
First day in the Chicago office and this is where it begins to feel like I work for a start-up. Three guys, a girl, and a mini fridge. Before I even had my computer open, I was rallying to get a Keurig. That request has been made to the powers that be (although I'm not entirely sure who "they" are).
An hour after my arrival, I was waiting on keys to both the office and the women's restroom. It's a tenuous wait realizing that, should nature call, your best options are to hope another woman is heading in that direction (keep in mind that I only work with men) or heading down the block to Cosi.
In what was possibly a modern day miracle, by lunch time I had keys, a shelf and a wall installed at my desk, and had accomplished some real work. Granted, a shipping error meant that I was still missing a monitor, keyboard and mouse, but there was Fresca in the fridge as a reparation.
I may have returned to the working world, but it feels nothing like the office routine that I've cycled through in the past. And that seems to be a good thing. It's only been one day in my new Chicago digs, but instead of heading for a rut it feels like I'm getting into a groove. There's somehow both a minor and a distinct difference between the two.
office life \09.17\
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Labels:
buildings,
chicago,
downtown,
office
First day in the Chicago office and this is where it begins to feel like I work for a start-up. Three guys, a girl, and a mini fridge. Before I even had my computer open, I was rallying to get a Keurig. That request has been made to the powers that be (although I'm not entirely sure who "they" are).An hour after my arrival, I was waiting on keys to both the office and the women's restroom. It's a tenuous wait realizing that, should nature call, your best options are to hope another woman is heading in that direction (keep in mind that I only work with men) or heading down the block to Cosi.
In what was possibly a modern day miracle, by lunch time I had keys, a shelf and a wall installed at my desk, and had accomplished some real work. Granted, a shipping error meant that I was still missing a monitor, keyboard and mouse, but there was Fresca in the fridge as a reparation.I may have returned to the working world, but it feels nothing like the office routine that I've cycled through in the past. And that seems to be a good thing. It's only been one day in my new Chicago digs, but instead of heading for a rut it feels like I'm getting into a groove. There's somehow both a minor and a distinct difference between the two.
It's difficult to believe, as I sit on my own couch for the first time in two weeks, that merely five hours ago I was in New York. As my time wound down, clearly there was no way that I had seen all of the city. So, Sunday was devoted to a single priority, the Brooklyn Bridge. Anything else that I fit in would be bonus...I ended up with a lot of bonuses.
First of all, I started my morning with a battle of the bagels. Yesterday's H&H Bagel versus today's Brooklyn Bagel. H&H hands down, in case you happen to be in NYC bagel hunting. I hopped a C train to Brooklyn, leisurely ate a bagel the size of my head on a quiet park bench (you can find those in Brooklyn, I guess), then strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge.
The city views are great, the structure of the bridge itself is amazing, and starting the walk from Brooklyn was genius. It wasn't until I was nearly into Manhattan again that the glut of tourists was upon me. By then, I was already done and moving on.
Then it was time to do what I do best, wander. This is where the bonuses racked up. I quickly threaded through lower Manhattan, passing the World Trade Center area (obviously packed with tourists) and the financial district (heavily secured, thanks to Occupy). A mile up Broadway brought me to Canal Street/Chinatown and enterprising folks trying to entice you to follow them for a selection of "Prada, Louis, Gucci". Not my scene, moving on.
As it happened, the entirety of Little Italy was a giant street festival. I inched up five blocks, single file, with cannolis, pizzas, and assorted meats staring me in the face. Tempting, but overwhelming. It felt like time for some R&R and people watching. Another mile, through SoHo, brought me to Washington Square.
Somehow I managed to get entrenched in an hour and half conversation with the guy on the bench next to me. It all began when he, a New Yorker, mistakenly assumed me to be a New Yorker as well. Assimilation took less than two weeks. From there, we discussed the obvious: college, sports, jobs, favorite places in the city. And then things got delightfully pretentious, debating the value and classification of modern art. You know the merits of Renoir versus Pollock, how people mistakenly find Degas' ballerinas beautiful, the richness of the colors in a Seurat.
Alas, it was time to return to the Holiday Inn and retrieve my bags. The Windy City was calling. I'm glad to be here, excited to return to life in the Loop tomorrow. My morning crossover from Brooklyn and my afternoon in Washington Square created a perfect end cap to my NYC adventure though. (I swear posts will get shorter again as I return to my standard life.)
brooklyn style \09.16\
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Labels:
architecture,
bridge,
buildings,
graffiti,
nyc
It's difficult to believe, as I sit on my own couch for the first time in two weeks, that merely five hours ago I was in New York. As my time wound down, clearly there was no way that I had seen all of the city. So, Sunday was devoted to a single priority, the Brooklyn Bridge. Anything else that I fit in would be bonus...I ended up with a lot of bonuses.
First of all, I started my morning with a battle of the bagels. Yesterday's H&H Bagel versus today's Brooklyn Bagel. H&H hands down, in case you happen to be in NYC bagel hunting. I hopped a C train to Brooklyn, leisurely ate a bagel the size of my head on a quiet park bench (you can find those in Brooklyn, I guess), then strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge.
The city views are great, the structure of the bridge itself is amazing, and starting the walk from Brooklyn was genius. It wasn't until I was nearly into Manhattan again that the glut of tourists was upon me. By then, I was already done and moving on.Then it was time to do what I do best, wander. This is where the bonuses racked up. I quickly threaded through lower Manhattan, passing the World Trade Center area (obviously packed with tourists) and the financial district (heavily secured, thanks to Occupy). A mile up Broadway brought me to Canal Street/Chinatown and enterprising folks trying to entice you to follow them for a selection of "Prada, Louis, Gucci". Not my scene, moving on.
As it happened, the entirety of Little Italy was a giant street festival. I inched up five blocks, single file, with cannolis, pizzas, and assorted meats staring me in the face. Tempting, but overwhelming. It felt like time for some R&R and people watching. Another mile, through SoHo, brought me to Washington Square.
Alas, it was time to return to the Holiday Inn and retrieve my bags. The Windy City was calling. I'm glad to be here, excited to return to life in the Loop tomorrow. My morning crossover from Brooklyn and my afternoon in Washington Square created a perfect end cap to my NYC adventure though. (I swear posts will get shorter again as I return to my standard life.)
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\
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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!
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\
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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\
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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.
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\
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buildings,
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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.
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\
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buildings,
downtown,
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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.
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\
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architecture,
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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.
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\
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buildings,
chicago,
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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.
The day started pleasantly and promising enough. By 10:00am I had already worked in a three mile walk by the lake, a shower and breakfast. I made a command decision that today would be a Starbucks coffee day, thanks to a few bucks remaining on my gift card. After navigating the crowd in my tiny neighborhood coffee joint, my iced coffee and I traveled to a park bench.
It was more than an hour before the sun started to fade out and the dark sky rolled in. I was making such great progress on The Grapes of Wrath, only five pages left. Determination to make that book a part of my past instead of my present (it's been a struggle to read a book I'm not enjoying) allowed me to convince myself that I could easily make it home before the rain. I was partially correct.
Finally finished, I started toward home, a mere three blocks away. The sky was ominous and intriguing, so I saw no harm in stopping for a photo. Then the dust started gusting into my eyes, leaves were pouring out of trees onto my head, and I could hardly walk forward or in a straight line. Garbage bins were crashing and burning onto the path one or two steps behind me.
It became unclear whether I should duck into a doorway or try to make it home. Part of my mind was flashing through scenes from Twister, anticipating an F5 in the next thirty seconds. Ultimately, I decided that I'd rather be in my own building should it come to that; there was comfort in the idea of a secure underground level. As I started crossing the street, my mass of hair whipping in front of my face, there was a sound of metal screeching on concrete. Sure enough, a large metal sculpture on the sidewalk corner had just tipped into the street as easily as a chess pawn. If that wind was taking down ten feet of metal, I had no business being outside. Time to pick up the pace.
I jogged the next block and a half, noting tree branches on cars, people cowering in alleys and doorways, other people jogging toward wherever, metal torn away from telephone posts, dislodged signs. These winds had been in effect for no more than three minutes and I was clueless about what else was coming.
Once I stepped inside my building, and checked that my car was debris-free, my heart rate slowed, but I noticed that there was a little tremor in my hand. Checking out the weather radar quelled any worries, seeing that I was on the northernmost edge of a front heading southeast. Of course, that made me wonder what the center of the storm looked like. A few highlights, according to the National Weather Service: "damaging wind in excess of 60 mph, large hail, deadly lightning".
calm before the storm \07.01\
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It was more than an hour before the sun started to fade out and the dark sky rolled in. I was making such great progress on The Grapes of Wrath, only five pages left. Determination to make that book a part of my past instead of my present (it's been a struggle to read a book I'm not enjoying) allowed me to convince myself that I could easily make it home before the rain. I was partially correct.
Finally finished, I started toward home, a mere three blocks away. The sky was ominous and intriguing, so I saw no harm in stopping for a photo. Then the dust started gusting into my eyes, leaves were pouring out of trees onto my head, and I could hardly walk forward or in a straight line. Garbage bins were crashing and burning onto the path one or two steps behind me.
It became unclear whether I should duck into a doorway or try to make it home. Part of my mind was flashing through scenes from Twister, anticipating an F5 in the next thirty seconds. Ultimately, I decided that I'd rather be in my own building should it come to that; there was comfort in the idea of a secure underground level. As I started crossing the street, my mass of hair whipping in front of my face, there was a sound of metal screeching on concrete. Sure enough, a large metal sculpture on the sidewalk corner had just tipped into the street as easily as a chess pawn. If that wind was taking down ten feet of metal, I had no business being outside. Time to pick up the pace.
I jogged the next block and a half, noting tree branches on cars, people cowering in alleys and doorways, other people jogging toward wherever, metal torn away from telephone posts, dislodged signs. These winds had been in effect for no more than three minutes and I was clueless about what else was coming.
Once I stepped inside my building, and checked that my car was debris-free, my heart rate slowed, but I noticed that there was a little tremor in my hand. Checking out the weather radar quelled any worries, seeing that I was on the northernmost edge of a front heading southeast. Of course, that made me wonder what the center of the storm looked like. A few highlights, according to the National Weather Service: "damaging wind in excess of 60 mph, large hail, deadly lightning".
So, it's the last day of June. As blogging goals go, that makes me 50% completed. (If you want to get technical about it, I'm not quite halfway since there are 182 days in the first six months and 184 days in the next six.) In some ways, it's unbelievable how quickly half of a year has slipped by. And some days I'm astounded that I have actually stuck to this goal. Then I remember how stubborn I can be.
On the flip side, it's also intimidating to think that I have to do this for six more months. Finding motivation to take photos every day can be challenging; keeping my eyes open for inspiration adds another layer of effort. Then there's the writing. Most days, I have little to no idea what I'm going to say until my fingers hit the keys. It's difficult to fathom that I have 366 days worth of relevant things to say, especially when I allow myself to remember that people are reading this. No pressure.
Thinking long-term seems taunting and intimidating, and sometimes downright illogical. So much can change in a week, a day, an instant. I have always had an issue with that standard job interview question about where you see yourself in five or ten years. Would I have foreseen the current juncture of my life five years ago? Not a chance, not even close. In more ways that blogging, I think I've been focusing too much on that distant long-term future. Putting pressure on myself to make all of the right decisions now, so that I end up exactly where I want to be somewhere down the road.
It's silly to believe that I have such precise aim. Instead I need to draw it back in, take life one day at a time. Put things out in the universe, see which ones stick, and learn from those that don't. It seems so logical in theory. Just like blogging though, I'll need to keep myself in check when those long-term thoughts start to rule or motivation flags.
great escape \06.30\
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architecture,
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On the flip side, it's also intimidating to think that I have to do this for six more months. Finding motivation to take photos every day can be challenging; keeping my eyes open for inspiration adds another layer of effort. Then there's the writing. Most days, I have little to no idea what I'm going to say until my fingers hit the keys. It's difficult to fathom that I have 366 days worth of relevant things to say, especially when I allow myself to remember that people are reading this. No pressure.
Thinking long-term seems taunting and intimidating, and sometimes downright illogical. So much can change in a week, a day, an instant. I have always had an issue with that standard job interview question about where you see yourself in five or ten years. Would I have foreseen the current juncture of my life five years ago? Not a chance, not even close. In more ways that blogging, I think I've been focusing too much on that distant long-term future. Putting pressure on myself to make all of the right decisions now, so that I end up exactly where I want to be somewhere down the road.
It's silly to believe that I have such precise aim. Instead I need to draw it back in, take life one day at a time. Put things out in the universe, see which ones stick, and learn from those that don't. It seems so logical in theory. Just like blogging though, I'll need to keep myself in check when those long-term thoughts start to rule or motivation flags.
Each weekday morning the American Advertising Federation emails what they call a "Smart Brief" to their subscriber list. Essentially, it's a recap of major and current advertising-related news. I've been a subscriber since my undergraduate days and pay varying degrees of attention to the emails. On a typical day, I skim the headlines and occasionally read a couple of the abstracts. Once or twice a week, I actually click to read a full article.
Today I clicked on a headline, "Best Small Towns for Business in America", under the American Express Open Forum section. I did a little light reading on how start-ups don't necessarily need to be located in urban meccas anymore, because of digital capabilities. Skimmed through the list of cities that attract this crowd and why. Then I checked out the "You might also like" article recommendations.
A mixture of curiosity and annoyance greeted me when I saw an article entitled "Don't Hire People Who Went to Grad School". That seemed like a pretty unwarranted blanket statement. Clearly my possession of a graduate degree can't be a disservice to my job search...right? I read the woman's article and reserved judgment until the end (but I'll give you my opinion at the beginning).
Final verdict: I understand most of her arguments, but I don't agree with her assertion that "it's a decent bet to stay away from candidates with a graduate degree". Sure, some people do go to grad school just to put off real life for a few more semesters. On the other hand, some people really are just passionate about a field or learning in general, so they extend their education. These may also be the employees with an appetite for lifelong learning, always seeking to extend their skill set, ultimately becoming increasingly valuable to an organization. Again, point taken, there are a lot of graduate programs that are not structured in a way to successfully prime students for the professional environment. The same applies to undergraduate programs, though; should we tell employers to eschew Bachelor degrees also?
I can't speak to her arguments about MBA or law degrees, since I haven't personally been enrolled in either type of program. The points that she raises sound like great hard-hitting interview questions: Why did you spend $100,000 to learn about entrepreneurship rather than forming a start-up? Outside of your knowledge of case law, how have you accrued the requisite skills for forming a successful law practice? There's just no way I can buy into writing off a candidate with a graduate education before giving them a chance to demonstrate their value.
Stepping down from my soapbox now.
late day light \06.26\
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buildings,
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Today I clicked on a headline, "Best Small Towns for Business in America", under the American Express Open Forum section. I did a little light reading on how start-ups don't necessarily need to be located in urban meccas anymore, because of digital capabilities. Skimmed through the list of cities that attract this crowd and why. Then I checked out the "You might also like" article recommendations.
A mixture of curiosity and annoyance greeted me when I saw an article entitled "Don't Hire People Who Went to Grad School". That seemed like a pretty unwarranted blanket statement. Clearly my possession of a graduate degree can't be a disservice to my job search...right? I read the woman's article and reserved judgment until the end (but I'll give you my opinion at the beginning).
Final verdict: I understand most of her arguments, but I don't agree with her assertion that "it's a decent bet to stay away from candidates with a graduate degree". Sure, some people do go to grad school just to put off real life for a few more semesters. On the other hand, some people really are just passionate about a field or learning in general, so they extend their education. These may also be the employees with an appetite for lifelong learning, always seeking to extend their skill set, ultimately becoming increasingly valuable to an organization. Again, point taken, there are a lot of graduate programs that are not structured in a way to successfully prime students for the professional environment. The same applies to undergraduate programs, though; should we tell employers to eschew Bachelor degrees also?
I can't speak to her arguments about MBA or law degrees, since I haven't personally been enrolled in either type of program. The points that she raises sound like great hard-hitting interview questions: Why did you spend $100,000 to learn about entrepreneurship rather than forming a start-up? Outside of your knowledge of case law, how have you accrued the requisite skills for forming a successful law practice? There's just no way I can buy into writing off a candidate with a graduate education before giving them a chance to demonstrate their value.
Stepping down from my soapbox now.
Back in 1980-something, at a ripe young age between four and six, I formed a habit. One night a week, I stayed up past my bed time and watched a TV show that was completely over my head. Dallas. Why my parents let me do this, I still don't know. Besides getting to stay up late, I can still remember inexplicable joy in the ritual of watching something that I was completely incapable of grasping.
I knew the characters' names, I could vaguely summarize a dramatic scene, but my crowning achievement was memorizing the tune of the theme song. And every week, about five or ten minutes before show time, I would bound into whatever room my parents were occupying and regale them with my rendition of the song...on my plastic Fisher Price kazoo.
Starting tonight, TNT is reintroducing Dallas to the TV-viewing public. I have my DVR set for two reasons: nostalgia compels me (even though I no longer have the aforementioned kazoo to usher the show in each week) and my favorite childhood babysitter's younger brother has a role in the show. So, tonight history repeats itself in a way. We'll see if I'm a Dallas fan or if I should just go back to fondly remembering the kazoo days.
ivy league \06.13\
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buildings,
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I knew the characters' names, I could vaguely summarize a dramatic scene, but my crowning achievement was memorizing the tune of the theme song. And every week, about five or ten minutes before show time, I would bound into whatever room my parents were occupying and regale them with my rendition of the song...on my plastic Fisher Price kazoo.
Starting tonight, TNT is reintroducing Dallas to the TV-viewing public. I have my DVR set for two reasons: nostalgia compels me (even though I no longer have the aforementioned kazoo to usher the show in each week) and my favorite childhood babysitter's younger brother has a role in the show. So, tonight history repeats itself in a way. We'll see if I'm a Dallas fan or if I should just go back to fondly remembering the kazoo days.
I would like to pat myself on the back for not only finishing the first book since I declared my reading challenge, but for accidentally choosing the LONGEST book on the list to get started on my mission. Three weeks into reading it, I was struck by how odd it was that the Kindle app told me I was only 60% finished. Off to Amazon.com to check the page count...656. For some reason that knowledge got me hyper-motivated, and I raced through the last 40%.
My final assessment: most books with that many pages are not worthy of their length, and Of Human Bondage suffers from the same downfall. In my personal appraisal, many areas dragged and could have easily been edited out. However, I am glad that I soldiered through the entire saga. This book represented one of my favorite things about literature; it encompassed reflections of myself and my life. Despite the fact that Maugham penned this novel in 1915, there are parts of the human experience that are applicable 100 years later. And although many people may find his vocabulary choices pretentious or unnecessarily showy, I appreciated that I had to employ context clues and occasionally a dictionary to work through some words.
So, onwards and downwards (in terms of page quantity). I think my next target will be under 300 pages.
framed view \06.07\
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buildings,
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My final assessment: most books with that many pages are not worthy of their length, and Of Human Bondage suffers from the same downfall. In my personal appraisal, many areas dragged and could have easily been edited out. However, I am glad that I soldiered through the entire saga. This book represented one of my favorite things about literature; it encompassed reflections of myself and my life. Despite the fact that Maugham penned this novel in 1915, there are parts of the human experience that are applicable 100 years later. And although many people may find his vocabulary choices pretentious or unnecessarily showy, I appreciated that I had to employ context clues and occasionally a dictionary to work through some words.
So, onwards and downwards (in terms of page quantity). I think my next target will be under 300 pages.
For a moment in time, or rather three minutes, I was back in Playa Sámara today. Standard practice on a beautiful day tends to include a park bench, book and iPod. Today I was pleasantly surprised to find that the fountain in my favorite park space was actively flowing again, after being out of commission for over a year. Settling in on the closest bench, I sometimes felt a light mist carried over on the breeze. Then, at some point, Jack Johnson's voice cut into my focus on the words in my book. He was lamenting Sitting, Waiting, Wishing and I, in turn, drifted into a reverie.
Next to the little piece of beach that I claimed during my three week stay was Gusto Beach. The bar menu may have been outside of my budget, but I enjoyed their tunes all day long for free. Every morning around 11:00am they cycled through a mix that included a Jack Johnson block. The chill vibe of his music correlated with my state of mind.
So, in that moment on the bench this morning, with the sun shining down on my face, all I had to do was close my eyes. Images of my daily beach life flashed so vividly behind my eyes; it seemed as though I was just there yesterday. The trifecta of palm trees that served as my sun protection. The Tico's Surf School hut with the guys' hammocks strung between the beams. The exhausted novice surfers precariously balancing boards on their heads. The dogs without leashes and sometimes seemingly without owners. If I didn't listen too closely, even the sound of the fountain was slightly reminiscent of the Pacific waves.
But the song ended. I opened my eyes and saw Chicago. And I was content with that, because the day and the setting were still beautiful in their own way. Honestly, it was just nice to transport myself back to such an amazing point in time - and then to think about how I can take steps toward the making next memory for that mental catalog.
fountain of bliss \06.03\
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buildings,
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Next to the little piece of beach that I claimed during my three week stay was Gusto Beach. The bar menu may have been outside of my budget, but I enjoyed their tunes all day long for free. Every morning around 11:00am they cycled through a mix that included a Jack Johnson block. The chill vibe of his music correlated with my state of mind.
So, in that moment on the bench this morning, with the sun shining down on my face, all I had to do was close my eyes. Images of my daily beach life flashed so vividly behind my eyes; it seemed as though I was just there yesterday. The trifecta of palm trees that served as my sun protection. The Tico's Surf School hut with the guys' hammocks strung between the beams. The exhausted novice surfers precariously balancing boards on their heads. The dogs without leashes and sometimes seemingly without owners. If I didn't listen too closely, even the sound of the fountain was slightly reminiscent of the Pacific waves.
But the song ended. I opened my eyes and saw Chicago. And I was content with that, because the day and the setting were still beautiful in their own way. Honestly, it was just nice to transport myself back to such an amazing point in time - and then to think about how I can take steps toward the making next memory for that mental catalog.