see as i saw

For every ounce of awesomeness, there is some measure of the not so amazing and things that fell through the cracks.  These are the places with potential to teach lessons and provide enlightenment.  So today is dedicated to a high-level retrospective of the things that could've gone better in the past year.

1. Hand in Too Many Jars - Although trial and error was a theme for 2012, the approach could've been better at times.  There was a tendency to put too many objectives in play at once, which pretty much set me up for immediate follow-through failure.

I wanted to practice my Spanish, learn how to code, and read the Randomhouse 32 "best" novels...all at once.  In addition to crafting, photographing, blogging, working out, cooking, and a multitude of other things that weren't yet regularities of my daily life.  Despite being jobless, thus having a lot of spare time, it was a little excessive.

2. "Best" is Subjective - Short follow-up to a point I made above.  I've always considered it a difficult task to give me a book that I dislike enough to not finish.  It may have taken three attempts, but I finally forced myself through Madame Bovary.  I also posited that I liked classic literature.  My Randomhouse experiment has, in part, disproved both theories.

I did actually complete all of the books that I started, but there was ample skim reading in some of the more obnoxiously long-winded and preachy texts.  And I feel quite assured that there are classic books, considered among the best literature has to offer, that I can't stand.  In the future, I'll take "best" with a grain of salt.

3. Losing Someone - There's nothing I could have done to change this one.  But it was definitely one of 2012's rougher patches.  And one of it's more thought-inducing - a lesson in appreciating the people in your life.  It's easy to get caught up in the immediate activity around you and lose track of the people outside of that radius.  My great aunt's passing helped to remind me that you don't want to wait until you know time is limited or gone.

4. There Is No Perfect Job - I've hoped, prayed, and looked for the perfect job.  Initially, my focus for Costa Rica was figuring out my perfect job.  Frankly, I thought about virtually everything besides employment.  Then I spent seven additional months in Chicago pondering this question, before accepting that perfect is unlikely even if you're unequivocally excited about what you do.

I suppose it's sort of like buying a house or finding a spouse.  They'll pretty much never tick all of the boxes on the dream list.  Once I accepted that, I was able to find a job that I felt proud to accept.  As long as I can find things to appreciate about the situation that I'm in, it's right at that moment.  I'm learning and growing, and there's nothing wrong with that.

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That's 2012 in a nutshell, which leaves one more day.  One more blog.  And that final day of this year-long commitment will be looking forward.  Trying to sketch out a gameplan for 2013.

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.

My 200th post, cue the virtual confetti. The number seems nominal and huge at the same time. Quite a bit of time and thought has gone into those 200 posts. Sometimes I start worrying about how I'll possibly have content or a photo at least nine hours before I sit down to post them. A labor of love.

Interestingly enough, I was reading an article today about writing.  It happened to be from the mind of Stephen King, who happens to have a little experience with writing.  He referred to the immensity of new ideas stemming from opening new doors.  When you feel like there's nothing left to say and nowhere else to go, it's because you're not opening doors.

I've mentioned before that it can feel like a struggle to come up with inspiration.  As recently as yesterday, I referred to my restlessness in this current routine.  Today, with the assistance of Stephen King and the blogger that posted the excerpts, I tied those two thoughts together.  I don't struggle for ideas because they've all been used, but rather because I've let the well of my mind run dry.

It's up to me to change routine and discover the novelty and inspiration.  Reading.  Seeing.  Doing.  As long as it's something different.  You can leave a rut only to end up in another routine that becomes a rut.  That's not where I want to be, in my blog or in my life.  So, I'm opening doors and taking a peek.