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.

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.

 Chicago is going to be upset with me, I'm having a small love affair with New York.  Tonight I meandered into Chelsea with a mission to check out the High Line, a public park constructed atop an old, elevated freight line.

The concept sounded unique, so I thought maybe I'd walk a few blocks, sit for awhile, take a few pictures.  As soon as I alighted from the steps, the ambiance was distinctly different from street level.  I had no doubt that I would be in love, because it possessed my favorite subject: juxtaposition.

It was a green space, a congregation of people moving at a relaxed pace or merely lounging, defined by quiet conversations and solo venturers.  Yet, it's generally no more than five yards from rail to rail, and the city is thrumming along as usual just below.  Manhattan still towers over you to the east and the lights of New Jersey illuminate the west.  Somehow, even surrounded by all of that steel, glass and light, the atmosphere feels idyllic.

And they've somehow managed to provide unique assets to different expanses of the walkway.  There's an area of lawn, various unique lookout points with rows of seating, benches placed within extremely shallow running water.  A stretch of loungers is featured just outside of a pseudo food court, which is housed in a section of building with the walls blown out.  Sometimes your view is dominated by brick walls, then it opens to a street view, and suddenly you're on a narrow path surrounded by plant life.

The variety and contrasts never got old.  Before I knew it, I was at the southernmost point of the park.  Heading back, I was entranced enough to miss my exit point and end up at the far north end.  About 3.5 miles later, I finally arrived back at my hotel.

I know that NYC overflows with restaurants and bars, many of which are well-suited to impress a date.  My perfect man would stake out a spot on the High Line, grab a bottle of pinot noir and a few tasty things to nosh on.  If you happen to know that guy, let me know.

As soon as I realized that I would be in New York City when 9/11 approached, I found myself wondering if there would be any relevant impact.  Unexpectedly, I saw/heard more about the remembrance of this day on my Facebook feed than I did in the city.  Although I'm sure there were crowds around Ground Zero, the rest of the city felt like business as usual.

At first this struck me as odd.  I wondered why the city wasn't more effusive in its remembrance and memorial.  It finally occurred to me that the city's coping mechanism is much like my own.  When emotions become strong enough, it's easier to keep them close and internal while focusing on life as usual.

Despite the number of people involved in and personally touched by the events of that day, I wasn't directly connected to any of them.  I can't pretend to know the extent of the anguish, grief and fear.  But I do keep going back to July 7, 2005, a day where terrorism was a little too close for comfort in my own life.

Although I was relatively sure of my safety, despite my proximity to the London bombings, I didn't initially take into consideration how my family must have felt.  The phones kept ringing.  They had no idea of my daily routines or my current whereabouts.

As I've gotten older, I've had a deepening sense of how suddenly life can change and how unsure we are of the possible events that will occur at any moment.  The best thing we can do is try to continually move toward the place we want to be with the people who are worth everything to us.  Live, love, and appreciate it all.  Move toward the meaningful and cut out the bull.

Am I the only person who is nostalgically pining for the days of back to school shopping?  I'm not necessarily the most enthusiastic clothes shopper, but throw in school supplies and I'm sold.  There was focused effort put into choosing my notebooks, folders, assignment planners, pens, and oh so many other necessary instruments for success.  Sometimes the excitement of school supplies even rubbed off on clothes shopping.

Although I loved summer, there was always excitement in returning to the daily agenda of academia.  At least for me.  I've just never been able to hate learning.  There was the anticipation of awaiting class assignments, comparing schedules with friends.  Such innocent and simple joys.  How could we replicate that in the "real world" for adults?