see as i saw

I've decided that my final days of this commitment will be a three-part series.  Today's mission, focus on what went right in 2012.

1. Costa Rica - Without a doubt, one of the most 'right' things that I've ever done in my life.  Committing to leaving unhappiness behind and expanding my personal horizons on a solo adventure in an amazing place.  There will be more Costa Rica in my future; it's in my blood.  It would take more entries than you'd be willing to read to expand upon all of the things that this decision taught me.

2. Trial and Error - I have a tendency to only try when I'm predominantly sure of an outcome.  At least that was my standard operating procedure in the past.  In 2012, I made it a point to say "yes" even when it made me nervous and to test drive the unknown.

By no means did I go to extremes, but I explored some of the notions that I've considered in the realm of independent employment.  Despite a lot of learnings and some unique experiences (i.e. Hoarders), the love wasn't there.  And you know what?  I don't regret trying, not a bit.

There were plenty of other trial categories that did stick: eggs, quinoa, yoga.  Sure, they don't seem earth-shattering, but to say that I've been picky most of my life is an understatement.

3. Slowing Down - It's no secret to me or anyone that knows me well, I'm very performance and expectation driven.  Without realizing it, I can work myself to excess.  Unfortunately it's easy for other people to take that as a cue to push you harder.  Then I take it up a notch...vicious cycle.

So even after I returned from my international adventure, I forced myself to wait.  Pressure mounted almost immediately upon my return - "So, are you applying for jobs yet?  What do you want to do?"  I knew I wasn't ready, but it took a lot of effort to wait until I was.  Ultimately I felt a lot better about my decision, having held out until I was bored of relaxing.

4. Investing in Passion - My trip to Costa Rica was technically an investment.  An investment in my happiness and sanity.  I could've just quit my job, stayed in Chicago for that month, and saved a little bit.  But it wouldn't have had nearly the same effect.  My other great investment has been in photography.  Yes, the recent acquisition of my dSLR was a monetary investment.  But I've also invested a lot of time and effort.

As of today, I've spent 364 days finding photo ops to funnel into this digital channel of communication.  Beyond that, I've invested time into researching dSLR cameras and, now that I have one, reading tutorials, tips, and tricks.  Part of it could be that I'm stubborn and refused to not follow through.  But a larger, and more important, part was realizing that even on the days when I drag my feet and have no motivation - I'm ultimately happy with the result.  Even when I know that it's not my best photo, I know that I learned something merely through taking a bad photo.

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If I wanted to drill down to specifics, I'm sure there are many other things that went right.  But for the sake of some brevity, I'll stick with the major themes that seemed obvious to me.

My favorite part of the Halloween season is candy corn.  With the increase in demand, stores seem more likely to have fresh stock.  I'm known to indulge in full bags of fresh candy corn without even resenting the sick feeling I get afterward.  Everything else about Halloween, I can take it or leave it.  Mostly I prefer to leave it.

If I were to guess, I'd say that I peaked out with Halloween after fourth grade.  I know, I'm a real Debbie Downer.  Maybe there just wasn't any higher pinnacle for me than that year of dressing like female baseball players from A League of Their Own with a few of my friends.  After that, most costume choices are a blur of pulling random mismatched clothes out of closets merely so that people would toss candy in my pillowcase still.

Everything about Halloween costumes was relatively counter to my natural tendencies even as an adolescent.  Trying to be something that I'm not just didn't hold appeal.  Then I hit young adulthood and realized that celebrating this holiday would consist of navigating through myriad girls dressed as some sort of "slutty (fill in the blank)".  Even if it was acceptable for me to not participate in what's become a social norm, I couldn't handle spending nights surrounded by it.

As it turns out, I can also think of ways that I'd rather spend the $50-100 that people regularly invest in this outfit that they'll wear for six hours.  For example, the guy I passed in the stairwell as I headed back up to my apartment tonight.  He was wearing a nylon Biggest Loser fat suit.  Odds that he'll wear that again?  Slim to none.  People aren't into repeats for the next year; they have to out-perform themselves.

Maybe one day I'll live in a neighborhood where innocent children dressed at superheroes come giggling and yelling "Trick or Treat!", and I happily distributed fun size candy bars (or whatever hypo-allergenic, non-food item is consider acceptable to the parents of 21st century children).  Until then, I'll continue to have disdain for a weekend that means little more to my peers than drunken debauchery and overpriced, underclothed ensembles.

Bah humbug and goodnight.

My photos have a tendency to trend with the seasons.  Hence, excessive photos of colorful leaves this autumn.  I can't help it, that's what speaks to me.

Something that I've noticed throughout four years in the city, that never occurred to me prior to moving here, is the people who prematurely dress for deep winter.  I'll admit that today's weather, a dip of 30 degrees since yesterday, seemed rather drastic.  Yet, the sun was shining and I still fared just fine in my UnderArmour sweatshirt when I went for a walk.


When you're living in Chicago, you have to uphold a sense of progression in your winter wear.  When the temperature dips below 60, I'll start breaking out my fleece.  Give me below freezing and I'll zip on the top layer over my fleece.  Another twenty degrees under that and I'll entertain my down jacket.  Hat and gloves make an appearance when we hitting 32 degrees, although the hat is generally only for extended outdoor periods.  The scarf has become a either a last resort or an accoutrement to the peacoat on a sub-freezing day.

Living in Michigan, I drove everywhere and maxed out with a North Face fleece during my collegiate years (high school was composed of varsity jacket days).  Having to stand at a bus stop daily really reprioritized my winter wear.  Except last winter, when I spent the dearth of my winter days in Costa Rica.  I'm trying not to let myself linger on how I'll have to endure an entire winter this year.

I've been disgracefully neglectful in reading my typical cache of followed blogs.  So, on this night that I set aside for couch laying and World Series watching, I thought I'd throw in some blog reading.  Some entries were more skim-worthy, others were full-reads, but one was fodder for further perusal.  And it just so happens that I reserve this little space of my own for such acts.

Here's what got me:
"For several years beforehand, I thought about writing but never wrote. During much of that time I dreamed of doing something significant, but didn't have a vision for its form or structure. 

If you have a project you're just now beginning, I hope you'll see it through. If the project is in progress and you haven't achieved the traction you wanted (and you're still motivated to do it), I hope you won't give up. If you keep working at it over time, I hope you'll be able to fill your own stadium with people who engage with it…" (Chris Guillebeau @ AONC)

Do you ever stop to consider the power of music in our lives?  It can make us happy, spark our energy, relax us, make us cringe, and a range of other reactions.  Why else do we assign specifically chosen music to major events in our lives?  Graduations, weddings, break ups, marathon playlists, spring break mixes.

I'd like to take this first moment to appreciate the perfection of the weather on this autumn day.  If I could choose, half of the year would look and feel exactly like today.  The other half would be composed of the weather suitable for beach days and outdoor dining.

The second moment will be dedicated to the loss of something near and dear to me: the elevator in my building.  For the next three to four weeks (hopefully no more), it's under maintenance and unavailable.  Although my cardiovascular system will be pumped (pun intended) for the constant five flights up and down, my inner lazy person wants to camp out on the couch through mid-November.

So, if you ask me to hang out and I turn you down, there's a possibility that I just don't feel like navigating the stairs.  Either that or I'm hibernating.  Winter is setting in after all.

Now that I'll have some weekends to spend at my leisure in Chicago, I'm hoping some of the temperate weather sticks around.  I find that I'm at my most inspired when I'm out in the natural world, with no time constraints, and looking for nothing in particular.  Next step, info-gathering and test-driving dSLRs so that I can upgrade from phonetography to photography during these jaunts.

Making up for lost time: round one.  Pretend it's Friday, October 12.

I went to bed at 5:30am, following three hours of rain-soaked, late night chauffeur duty.  Two hours of sleep later (half of my expected sleep quota), I was awake and preparing to head eastbound.

Somehow I managed to work through the haze of exhaustion; I mean, I actually did a full day's work before heading to the night's nuptial event.  I was in alcohol avoidance, so as to not fall asleep face first in my food.

I tried to attain dancing avoidance as well, but I knew that in the present company it wouldn't fly for long.  My defenses were so far down that I even allowed myself to be coerced into learning how to wobble.  I'm pretty sure I should retire from that dance now.

And thus ended my 2012 wedding season.  It was only the first third of the seemingly neverending story known as my weekend though.

What did I ever do when there wasn't technology to aid me on the fly?

On today's journey back to Chicago alone, I managed to confirm that the Bears were playing Monday Night Football (meaning Lake Shore Drive was a safe route to take) and circumvented a likely half hour traffic jam.  While other drivers were joining the virtual parking lot on the Dan Ryan, thanks to the general public's ineptitude for merging, I exited to I-94 local and swept right past.

Google Maps saves sanity.  I would think that owners of a shiny new iPhone are envious of my outdated Android OS and it's functional mapping capabilities.  Did you see that Google Maps now gives you underwater mapping for various reefs?  I digress.

On an average day, I walk down the street tracking buses, determining if the 156 is coming soon or if it's worth walking two more blocks to get on a 22.

When I'm waiting in line at Starbucks, I can check my Gold Card balance (awarded to people who give Starbucks too much money) and even re-up my funds before I reach the register.

Instead of lugging around a 500-page book every day for my commute, it's simply stored in my 4.77 ounce handset.  Honestly, this blog wouldn't be executed as planned without the constant companion of my phone's camera.  Sometimes I wonder if I should nix the idea of a dSLR, just because I'm now so accustomed to the convenience factor of wandering anywhere with merely a phone in my pocket.

It's amazing how wrapped up my life (and many others') is in this technology that I couldn't even conceived of ten years ago.  Amazing, yet a little frightening.  At least I always have those once or twice a year breaks, thanks to international travel without an international phone plan.

 Today was a day of final goodbyes.  For the last time, I made my way to my great aunt's house for a very cozy and personal memorial service.  It was her wish that her physical being remains with those of her deceased husband and son, spread among the places she loved most - the woods and gardens where she fed the birds, watched the squirrels, strolled among the trees, and wrote her poetry.

Each of us were given the option to take a small portion of ashes and bring my aunt to rest with the nature she loved.  While everyone else stayed within the yard and gardens, I pushed my way through pine boughs, sinking into the soft carpet of their needles, seeking a place where the din of domestic life faded away.  The woods were filled with remnants of the many years that they spent on the property.  Discarded tires, old well pumps, moss covered wooden ladders and saw horses.

I said my goodbye not only to my aunt, but to a place that seems unchanged over the years.  The vintage touches were innately her and remained through the decades.  This means that I remember all of them from my childhood.  They were unique and memorable even then.  The garden in the front room with all of it's faux birds, rubber spiders, and cherub fountains was already removed when I arrived today.

It's difficult to believe that piece by piece everything will be dispersed, and all that remains are the few physical pieces that each of us will retain and the memories that grow more distant.