see as i saw

Despite no longer being beholden to daily posting, I couldn't seem to break the habit today.  There was sunlight, a rare winter occurrence.  Even though it was a balmy 25 degrees outside, I bundled up and spent as much quality time with my camera as possible...until my fingers went numb.  Then I stopped at Starbucks and had a hot chocolate.

Even though the scenery is mostly dreary and colorless, I made it my mission to somehow draw out visual interest with the textures, light and shadows.  I'm relatively pleased with my little mission, although there were quite a few duds in the camera roll.

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.

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.

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.

I spent three weeks at Playa Sámara, Costa Rica and in those weeks I was constantly on the lookout for an opportunity to capture a photo with a butterfly.  I'm not sure why, it just became a mission, but to no avail.  By the time I spotted one and prepared my camera, the fickle creature had fluttered away.

As I laid out my towel in the garden where I often read (a routine activity in a standard spot), I noticed two monarchs paying heavy attention to a flowering tree.  Initially I thought, "What's the use?  I never get my camera up in time."  But I started going through the motions anyways and managed to capture four shots before they spread their wings and took off.

My mind started working overtime on bridging these occurrences to create a life metaphor, not the first I've come up with.  Ready for it?

Sometimes we stretch and strain ourselves seeking something so specific that it manages to become elusive.  Maybe we chase it or become obsessively focused on it.  But there's an odd tendency for the things that we've been seeking to show up in the standard rhythm of our life.  When you let the obsession lie dormant and focus on a bigger picture, you often end up pleasantly surprised.

I know that I'm not the only person who tuned into the Olympics closing ceremony in anticipation of the Spice Girls' reunion performance.  There's a good chance that other people also flashed back to the choreographed scene from She's All That, with Usher as the DJ, when Fatboy Slim appeared in a giant octopus at the Olympic Stadium.

I've always been so intrigued with the way music attaches itself to memories and life stages.  In an instant, my mood can deviate based on four minutes of recorded sounds.

Without fail, probably for the rest of my life, the sounds of NSYNC will revive a feeling of simple innocence.  "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" has my days of serving tables at Lone Star written all over it.  Mariah Carey's "Emotions" reminds me of the constant battle for jukebox dominance that my brothers and I carried out in my grandparents' basement.

I'm also consistently amazed at the sheer quantity of song lyrics that are catalogued away in my brain. It seems that I could be storing more pertinent information than start to finish lyrics for a Savage Garden song from 1997.

It's official, a weekend that I generally avoid even being within city limits is likely to become a reality of overpopulated proportions.  The Chicago Air & Water Show, which my parents would like to attend.  They find a thrill in watching the Blue Angels and the Chicago show has the perk of being free.  Although I know about the crowds by local rumor, that's the end of my knowledge base.

So I've started digging around.  Dates: August 18-19.  Time: No clue.  Central viewing point: North Avenue Beach.  Where I won't be viewing from: North Avenue Beach.  From what I can tell, there's still pretty decent views of the show from as far north as Diversey Harbor.  I don't want to give away my secret plan or anything, but I'm thinking that maybe (a big maybe) we'll have a chance to retain some breathing room if we park ourselves under the trees at Fullerton.

Shade and a lack of overcrowding sounds too good to be true.  I still have a month to try to discover a better option.

Do you remember the awkward adolescent years? If you don't recall having awkward years, you're most likely delusional. It's not something I think about often, for good reason, and I doubt that I've thought about those years in quite a while. But the youngest of my cousins are in that awkward stage right now, and seeing them over the past few days brought it all back.

Changing dynamics of friendships. Braces. The opposite sex. Self-consciousness.

Some of the awkward memories merely make me laugh or shake my head. During my middle school years I weighed somewhere between 80-90 pounds and probably measured around 5'3". There wasn't much of me. Yet, I insisted on wearing my shirts in a size large. Other memories are less amusing, but have given me insight into my personal development. I can see aspects of my personality that began taking root back in those seemingly innocent middle school and high school years.

To be completely honest, I've never longed to return to those years of my life. I can see how people might say that things were so much easier back then and they'd gladly go back. The way I remember it, the challenges and emotions of those days felt big when you were in their midst. Today's challenges in the adult world may be of a different nature, but our enhanced (hopefully) personal development is equitable to their heightened gravity.

If you looked at a timeline of every place that I've been employed, there's a strong undercurrent of customer service and client-related jobs.  Starting with restaurant and retail work, continuing through the advertising and marketing roles, and right up to the organizing jobs that I undertake today.  For every job that fits in the customer service category, I can also recall an individual telling me that they wouldn't peg me for the type to have a job like that.

I'm not arguing with the appraisal.  By nature I'm more of an observer, a thinker, a problem-solver. Admittedly, my first customer-facing role was a bit of an internal battle to convince myself that I could do it.  Over the years, that trepidation started to fade.  And while I may still more naturally embrace the "think and solve" role, taking the reins in customer-related scenarios isn't an internal struggle anymore.

My conclusion: you don't need to be a natural at something to do it successfully.  And not only successfully, but well.  Instead of trying to mimic those who are natural extroverts, I opted to interpret customer service in the way that felt most natural to me.  It probably also helps that I'm stubborn and determined to succeed.  If I'm bad at something, I want to get better (although I prefer to hone the skill without anyone looking over my shoulder).  Finally, I've learned to accept that I'm not always smooth, but I like to think that my occasional lapses are more endearing and genuine than awkward.

A different employment path may have been easier and less nerve-wracking, but this goes beyond professional development.  I truly believe that this unnatural path was vital for my personal development, starting as a shy child and learning not only how to interact with the surrounding world, but ultimately that determination a handy tool for success.

My inbox gets hit at least once each day with what I call "food for thought" emails.  These are blogs I've subscribed to or email lists I've joined that run a gamut of topics from motivation, pursuing the unconventional work life, personal finance, and more.  Their essential function is to make me think, acting as catalysts for change and inspiration.

Some days these emails just reassure me that either I'm not completely insane...or there are at least other people out there as crazy as me.  Today's blog post from Escape the City referenced a short article by a guy named Daniel H. Pink.  Essentially, he wanted to point out the shift in what motivates work enjoyment and productivity in the 21st century, and urge employers to upgrade.  Here's how my email "read and response" sequence went:

Read: Autonomy - the desire to direct our own lives
Response: Yes
Read: Mastery - the urge to get continuously better at something that matters
Response: YES
Read: Purpose - the yearning to do what we do in the service of something larger than ourselves
Response: YES!!!

My final consensus: this is precisely the must-have list that guides my job search.  I'm going to have to pull out the needle in a haystack metaphor here.  Already pretty convinced that this combo is a rare find, this article confirms that others are seeking and not finding it.  Instead of letting this scarcity discourage me, I prefer to appreciate the fact that I'm not alone in seeking these elements as the building blocks of my work life.

Although it's not technically summer, I feel confident in qualifying any day hovering around 90 degrees as summertime.  As stifling as those days can feel, I still have a difficult time succumbing to air conditioning.  The warm and sunny weather seems so fleeting in the Midwest that I try to appreciate it, even when sweat is dripping down my back.  Plus, I've learned not to underestimate the power of a shady spot on a hot day.  And the best hot summer days end in cool summery nights.

Today was one of those days, spent in the glory of Pure Michigan.  It's no secret that I have a soft spot for my home state.  The older I get, and the longer I live away from here, the more I learn to appreciate the little things that I've always loved.  There's a simple pleasure in driving at night, windows down, the smell of summer air whipping in the windows.  Mom & pop ice cream places with only a walk-up window, willing to sell me a decent portion of soft serve for under $2.00.  And the even smaller details: the smell of hose water on a hot concrete driveway, complete strangers acknowledging each others' existence when they pass on the sidewalk, and there's even something about country music from the late 90s while driving down a dirt road.

Don't worry, Chicago, I still love you.  And when winter rolls around, even Pure Michigan commercials are virtually powerless.  My allegiances head south; not Florida-style snowbird south, but Latin America south.  So many love affairs.

Something peculiar dawned on me this week.  What used to be an encompassing and dedicated passion has slowly shifted further down the priority list.  It's French Open time and even though I don't have a day job, I have only amassed a couple of hours watching those guys slide around on the red clay.  Partial blame can be attributed to the heaviest coverage being on the Tennis Channel, which had to be struck from my finances.  The ESPN coverage window only lasts from 5:00-9:00am, which is less than convenient.

Regardless, I find myself looking at the draw and seeing so many unrecognizable names.  That can only mean that I've been paying much less attention over the past three years.  Inexcusable.  What's even more dismal is my distance from playing the sport myself.  That whole membership at a racquet club idea backfired in my face.  Public courts in Chicago seem to be more of a waiting game than an actual opportunity to hit balls.  And my strings are so loose that I'd be impressed if my racquet could push the ball over the net from the baseline.

So many excuses.  Unacceptable.  Maybe I don't have the time to dedicate to researching the best and brightest upcoming talent, like I did back in the high school and college days.  I likely can't dedicate ten hour days to watching matches.  And if I want to snag some court time, I'll have to put up with the parameters that the city necessitates.  But ultimately, you have to make a priority of the things that mean something to you.  Tennis, whether watching or playing, has always brought me joy.  So, tomorrow I'm taking the first step toward reigniting the flame.  There's no reason that I can't wake up an hour earlier and spend some quality time with the French Open.  Now, hopefully there are men's matches on at that hour.

Correction to yesterday's post: I have actually read 7.25 books from the Top 30 list.  Although that seems to be a menial difference, it's actually rather considerable.  That's 300 fewer pages that I have to conquer before the end of the year.

As long as I'm on the topic of conquering, I started a new quest today: teaching myself basic coding skills.  Yes, by "coding" I mean web development.  It seems like a win from every angle; my resume will benefit not only from listing it as a skill, but a self-taught skill, and Codecademy is free.  The likelihood of retaining everything that the tutorials are teaching is still up for debate, but worst case scenario is that I'll be better able to understand the code that I mess around with while designing my blogs.

There are slightly more than two hours for me to pull the trigger on yet another quest.  Groupon has an online language training deal posted until midnight.  For six months of unlimited access, the cost is only $49.  Seems like a great deal; they're calling it 95% off retail.  Skepticism is inhibiting me from acting, though.  Independent customer reviews of this program are non-existent.  Their website is extremely cookie cutter and doesn't give me a sense of security.  As much as I would love to renew my focus on Spanish, my gut tells me that over 1,000 people just got conned.  So, it's still a viable quest, I just need to find a different route.

Usually I turn right on the Lakefront Path, because the beach and lake views don't disappear.  I decided to finally give into the left turn and was graciously rewarded.  I make no secret of my love for the scent of lilacs; who needs roses.  Multiple rows of lilac bushes qualified this as a grove, in my opinion.  It seems I wasn't the only camera wielding Chicagoan that was smitten either.

I also spent a little time in the park, just me and a Coelho book basking in the sunshine.  That is until a toddler approached my bench.  I said hello, expecting her to toddle by or be swept up by a parent momentarily.  Nope.  She climbed up next to me and smiled like we were old friends, started spewing gibberish and giggling.  I helped her figure out how to set her bottle down so it didn't tip, she reached for my apartment keys.  Finally dad appeared with the stroller and parked himself two feet in front of us.  Interestingly, he didn't sweep her up and rush away (I suppose that means I don't look threatening?).  I played a couple rounds of word recognition with the kid.  (She got "keys" correct, but called my book a "rock"...)

There's a point to this story, beside the fact that a dad let his baby interact with a random girl in the park. I found myself slightly envious of her unworried, free-spirited nature.  She had no qualms walking right up and interacting with me.  There was no over-analyzing, no fear of rejection or awkwardness.  When she saw something of mine that interested her, she didn't stop herself from being inquisitive.  Obviously we give more concessions to a two-year-old who is just discovering the world.  I probably would've been less supportive of a 40-year-old woman acting the same way.  So, my question here is: when does it stop being seeming socially acceptable to approach people without invitation and insert yourself into their day?  What is the dividing line between innocent and invasive?

Writing often uses metaphor to make an abstract concept more tangible for readers.  Actually, the average person does the same thing.  The difference comes in implementation: writers create full-blown articles and books to get the point across, everyone else is more likely to choose from a well-stocked history of metaphorical phrases.  On a bike ride with my Dad this afternoon, I had a case of writer's mind.  I spent the entire ride create a metaphor revolving around life and a bike ride.

I think that I'm going to write it out in more detail, even if I do nothing more than keep it to myself.  The basic starting point came to me as we coasted down the first big hill today.  I thought about how much I loved that feeling of flying as a kid.  There was no regard for the things that run through my head now: keep your hand close to the brake, watch for cars, avoid lose gravel on the curve.  That directed my thought process toward a broader, related consideration.  Do I approach everything that should be a pleasurable aspect of my life with this same reticence?  How much does that dilute the enjoyment?  And is it a bad thing to be realistic and prepared?

From there, my mind start to mull the obvious comparison of the ups and downs in life to the uphills and downhills on a bike.  There were tangential thoughts about pain, challenge, appreciation, detours and so on.  I should include a disclaimer here that bike rides in my family aren't short, leisurely spins around the neighborhood.  My Dad knows where to pick out long inclines and steep hills that make it feel more like interval training.

My parents are big on taking a daily walk.  When I'm home, it's pretty much an unwritten rule that I'll be joining them.  Seeing as I've tried to fit in my own daily walks for the past four months, this works out pretty handily.  Unlike me, they tend to do the same route every day, cutting through neighborhoods, treelines and a golf course.  Today I learned about a new tactic they've employed to keep their walks interesting.

I've taken to calling it "scavenger hunt bocce golf".  Once they hit the golf course segment of the walk, they start searching in the trees for misdirected golf balls (scavenger hunt).  From that point until they hit the main road again, they alternate turns choosing targets and see who can toss the golf ball closest (bocce golf).  They've been doing this long enough that they have personal favorite targets that present challenges: toss the ball over a green space, bounce it in a parking lot, then clear the height of a retaining wall to hit a tree.

They also have a collection of at least 100 golf balls in their garage now.  It looks like joy really can be found in the simple things.

It's difficult for me to believe that this is my 93rd entry.  More than that, I've managed to find at least 93 things that inspired me enough to take a photo of them.  That was much easier in Costa Rica, where nearly everything seemed novel and amazing.  Somehow, I've managed to revitalize how I view my own neighborhood, too.

On the other hand, I'm getting restless.  Today's test drive didn't cost me anything; I just downloaded an app that allows me to play with filters and tinker with image settings.  What I'd really like is 1) a DSLR camera with all the fixins' and 2) some new environments to inspire me.  Not that Chicago doesn't have hidden gems scattered throughout the diverse neighborhoods, many of which I haven't visited.  If we really want to get straight to the point, I'm craving international travel again...already.  I suppose we'll see how long I can drag out my fascination with photo filters instead.

In a world with no income, you do what you have to do.  For me, that includes giving yoga a second chance.  To be fair, I didn't give it much of a real first chance; it was more like I skeptically tuned into OnDemand yoga workouts via my cable provider.  I found them mundane and generally ended up just lying on the floor for several minutes before pushing the stop button.  But, I'm intent on a healthy mind and body, so when I saw a free yoga class hosted locally...I had to give it a shot.

To be blatantly honest, I still didn't really like it.  My body doesn't have a natural inclination to move the way that yoga wants it to, and the holding poses thing still does not hold my attention.  I must admit, though, that I loved the last 5-10 minutes of class where you just lay on the mat, release the tension from your body, and sink into serenity.  Perhaps I'll give it another go, since it's free.  I do see how it can be good for my body; I'm just not sure I have the patience to keep at it until I get better.  What I really miss in my life is TurboKick.  Those classes have price tags above my means right now.

Even though the weather has been knocked down a notch or two, the earth still continues to bloom and the sun appears more often than it has since I set foot back in the U.S.  So, I'm pretty satisfied.  The itch for a purpose is starting to set in though...

Once upon time, my friend was in the homestretch of his twenties.  He used to describe himself throughout these years as "abstractly approaching 30".  At the time, I was freshly 21 and brushed off the concept of feeling old while you're still in your twenties.  There came a day when I hit that hidden threshold and found snapshots in time where I just feel plain old.  Now that I'm 28, I'm also adopting the terminology.  As of this first day of spring in 2012, I'm abstractly approaching 30.

Although my standard is one photo a day, I felt the need to make today a condensed, visual journey of how an unemployed urban dweller spends their birthday in unseasonably warm weather.  Is it anything mindblowing?  Not at all.  I would say, hands down, that it was the most relaxing and enjoyable birthday I remember having...probably ever.  

My morning started with reading in bed, followed by a self-made french toast breakfast.  A shout-out to Starbucks for providing me with a free iced mocha to enjoy while I walked to DSW, where I bought myself a small birthday present of new summer sandals (and thanks to a coupon, a free package of athletic socks).  Then I spent three hours soaking up the sun at the lake, alternating between reading, napping and people watching.  Usually I wear a winter jacket on my birthday, or carry an umbrella in best case scenarios; today I wore my swimsuit.  The icing on the cake (pun intended) was a ringing in 28 in company of the people that Chicago has made near and dear to me.

Over the years, I have spent a lot of effort not allowing myself to attribute meaning to birthdays.  There were too many of them that underwhelmed expectations.  I can honestly say that the past two years, in all of their simplicity, have chipped away at my skepticism.  There are good people surrounding me and I've realized that my birthday only highlights that, helping me remember to be thankful.  So, the 28th birthday is in the books and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm heading into a new year with optimism and anticipation.

Yup, I'm doing a triathlon.  Kidding, clearly kidding.  I'd get kicked in the head during the swimming portion and drown, which would be rather an impediment to crossing the finish line.  I did, however, walk to this bike rack through which you can see the lake...so my title isn't all that misleading.

I love to see the sun shining, the grass regaining its green hue, and the water sparkling blue.  Tomorrow's forecast calls for mid to high seventies.  Dare we call it a beach day prematurely?