see as i saw

Let me be honest.  I completely forgot to post on Monday night.  And my exhaustion far surpassed the desire to keep my promise to myself last night.  Quite frankly, I'm not okay with either of those things.  Without going into the minutiae, life priorities and mindset have been in a bit of upheaval lately, coming to a head at the beginning of this week.

Today I found myself thinking about something that I said off the cuff, when confronted by a situation where I was asked to speak to essentially our entire U.S. office without prior notice.  As a new-ish employee, I was asked to introduce myself and also mention what inspires me.  I don't tend to blurt what's top of mind, but there wasn't time to think.

Instead of saying something that would seem a likely response (perhaps traveling), I said that I'm inspired by the broad array of people that I run across daily, because interacting with someone in any way can teach you something if you keep your eyes and mind open.  I'm not sure where it came from, I wondered for a few seconds how open I really keep my eyes and mind, and then I became absorbed in the tasks at hand.

This week has made me hyperaware of my own words.  There was a perspective change that needed to happen, but I wasn't exactly changing my own mind.  So I tried to spend more time focusing on the people around, what they were saying, and what they really meant.  And things started to turn a few degrees.

I suppose the general point of my vague musing is that despite what seems like randomness or meandering, the universe always seems to lead you through and to the places that you need.  It may be discouraging while you're waiting to get 'there' and trying to figure out why you're 'here'.  Sometimes you can look back later and understand the journey, but often you can't.  Regardless of all of that, I have to marvel at the way the chips fall sometimes.

It's way past my bedtime.  And I just got home.  This is unusual for me, even on a weekend night.  But in the name of professional responsibility, I have spent a night imbibing and mingling.  All while wearing heels and standing in them for what seemed like an endless number of hours.  Also, I'm not sure that I've ever seen so many pairs of black heels in one place at the same time.

What I've learned: everyone in media and media buying knows one another, and I do not.  But I managed to run into an old co-worker, so my social tally wasn't completely vacant.  And we hosted a few clients in our group, so I suppose they count as familiar faces.  Few people surpassed the 35-year-old mark; I'm even willing to bet that the average age was closer to 25 than 30.  You could sense a little of that "not far removed from college" essence as the night drew out.

As responsible adults, we returned to the office just before midnight to gather our laptops and belongings.  The security dudes seemed less than pleased to see us, disdainful of our ability to ascertain (without assistance or prior knowledge) that you must swipe AND push the handicap accessible button to enter the office after hours.

Thus, at 11:45 Mountain Standard Time, I leave you for the comfort of my pillow.  Thankful that my morning commute consists of staggering from my bed to whichever sitting place in my apartment I decide to reside in.

Did you know that only at the equator will roses grow with straight stems?  And Ecuador has found a way to make bank on that: American men and a Hallmark holiday.  That's right, apparently one third of the United States' Valentine's roses are exported from Ecuador.  The things you learn when reading Lonely Planet.

The book also informed me that quinoa has long been a diet staple in the country, particularly the northern highlands.  Looks like I won't have trouble find something to eat on the menus there.  Although, I'm still a little bit on the fence about braised goat and guinea pig.

Thanks to the sixty degree heatwave moving through the Midwest, today was a perfect opportunity to go have a little photo safari.  I didn't wander far from home; in fact, all of the places that I passed, I've been to thousands of times before.

What's interesting is that if I keep my eyes open, I still manage to find something that I didn't notice or didn't exist before.  My natural tendency to always be observing and processing seems to help me ferret out new, interesting or unique photo subjects and perspectives.

And despite the warmth, the environment is still dark and dreary - things that don't particularly match my desired aesthetic.  Yet if I put in a little more effort and look a bit closer, there always seems to be one redeeming shot.

With my tendency to use micro-level life situations as metaphors for life at large, I started thinking about how even in the dark moments of life there are points of light and inspiration to grab ahold of.  You just have to let yourself keep seeking, avoiding the urge to feel like the negative aspects are all-encompassing.

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.

Although I sometimes momentarily forget, there is one truth that I continually confirm: I was not born to shop.  At least not when it comes to fashion.  If someone gave me a shopping spree, I'd hope that it was for sporting goods, home furnishings or books.

As I get older, I find myself becoming more and less risk averse.  No, I didn't mean to say "more or less" and, no, that is not circular logic.  Fears operate on a sliding scale.  The manner in which you commence through life stages and events dictates whether your levels rise or fall.

I've always been independent, but I find that willingness to court risks in this arena is high across the board.  Clearly I'm more than happy to travel outside of my comfort zone, whether it's domestic, international, or merely a new neighborhood in Chicago.  Going alone no longer phases me.  I got in some good test drives while traveling for business, then sort of went straight for the main event with my solo endeavor in Costa Rica.  And heading out for a long period of time, while not always idea, isn't the end of the world.

That's where the line starts to blur.  Permanent relocation to a new land, domestic or international, makes me more squeamish as I get older.  Starting over takes patience and a lot of effort.  As I start to sink comfortably into the people and places that I know, there's less drive to reinvent my life every few years (something I notoriously yearned for in my college days and early/mid-twenties).

Which leads me to another fear, social fear.  The desire to want to meet new people laced with the fear of imposing your slightly awkward/quirky self on them.  I'm still pretty hopeless in a large social setting dominated by people I don't know.  Therefore, moving to a new city solo is a rather daunting task.  With age, I also find friendship to be a trickier path to forge, because you have to navigate the husband/wife/children inclusions.

In a slightly oxymoronic way, I have checked my fear at the door when it comes to one-on-one interaction with someone I've never met.  There are many instances, especially in 2012, where this new level of openness has been fortuitous and/or valuable.  Maybe those events have piggybacked on one another to mitigate my fear.

Some risks seem to feel augmented with maturity and concern for my health or life.  I'm positive that my average speed limit has decreased over the past ten years.  Alcohol intake is generally mild to moderate.  My nighttime awareness on city streets and public transit is very attuned.  Cheap thrills, like skydiving and roller coasters, seem less appealing and more dangerous.

While other risks just seem to become laughable or negligible.  Trying new foods is unlikely to cause any lasting harm or cost me much, either in monetary or non-monetary terms.  Hence, I've taste-tested sushi twice in the past week.  (Verdict is still out.)  Asking questions turns out to be a pretty common activity that most people don't judge you over.  And trial and error seems to be a much quicker way to mount the learning curve.  As it turns out, the errors are rarely life shattering and people don't begrudge you for them.

Green space in NYC is one of those areas where I notice a major disparity compared to life in Chicago.  Obviously they have Central Park.  That aside, there are "parks" dispersed throughout city blocks, generally containing a plot of grass, a fountain, and side-by-side benches flanking the perimeter.

In Chicago, all of the parks are of a size considerable enough to throw a ball for your dog.  Or spread yourself across the grass without being so near to another person that you hear them chewing.  And maybe we take this green space for granted.  By "we", I'm mainly referring to myself.

I grew up in a relatively rural setting.  My childhood home had its own sports field, for all intensive purposes, as well as woods and fields rife with opportunities for exploration.  The natural world was never in short supply.  Then I moved to the city, and even in the green spaces you still feel the veil of urban life.  Noises, smells, the inevitable markings of urban infrastructure.

But now I find myself in Manhattan, watching people crowd onto benches and revel in the nature of shrubs and domesticated squirrels (I actually saw someone hand-feeding one).  Suddenly, I realize that Chicago's natural spaces bring more to the table than I gave them credit for.

An urban green space will never live up to an autumn walk in the Michigan woods; the leaves transformed into an array of warm hues, the crisp air accenting the earthy smells, and the soundtrack of rustling branches and the birds that call them home.  But I can appreciate Chicagoan parks for the unlikely level of respite that they do provide in a city setting.

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.