see as i saw

Perhaps thanks to a hybrid of my stress level and the impending winter weather, I've been at odds with public transportation lately.  We've hit that apex in the year when buses start to pass you by, because they're already packed full.  Or every time I'm ready to leave, the next bus is 25 minutes away.  Odds are high, especially on certain routes, that someone will be crazy and someone else will be obnoxious.

I understand the other side of the argument, too.  There are no worries about finding a parking spot. If I've had a few glasses of wine, I don't have to be concerned about how I'll get home.  Dealing with crazy people operating automobiles is generally more threatening than the crazy guy in the next bus seat.

But there are many moments where I just crave the simplicity of jumping in my car, pulling up in front of the store or gym, and heading inside.  Then when I'm ready to leave, my mode of transportation is ready to sweep me away home.  I don't have to wait for it to arrive, it doesn't stop every block.  The few times that I've driven to work, it was amazing how much time was shaved off of my commute.

There may be some added sensitivity in light of the announcement about increased CTA fares in 2013.  My monthly pass is getting hiked up 16% to $100 per month.  That's hefty.  But unless they're also deciding to stop charging for garage parking in the Loop, you'll continue to see me board the bus every workday.

What I'm learning at my new job: clients renew monthly and quarterly.  This week was the end of a month and a quarter.  That makes my life insanely busy.  So, I have to bring a little work home with me this weekend.  Once I get over the hump in the learning curve, I'm thinking that will be less likely.

This was also supposed to be my one low-key, do nothing weekend after three weeks of traveling and before three more of the same.  Well, that changed when I made an impromptu road trip to Michigan after work.  The opportunity cost of trading in my chill at home weekend is completely worth it though.  You'll get the picture tomorrow, literally and figuratively.

The drive into Michigan wasn't quite as bad as I expected after last weekend's traffic jams and rain storms.  To further entertain myself, I whipped out the archaic CD case from my trunk and played a little soundtrack roulette.  It's a simple game whereby I flip blindly to a page, pull out a CD without looking, and insert it into the CD player.

I ended up with Celine Dion's Greatest Hits (I beg to differ with the titling; I didn't know at least half of the songs).  It's probably a good thing no one else was present for that singalong session.  Then I segued to a burned CD of country hits circa 2002.  That one didn't end up back in the archives, it'll stay in my rotation.

Something about coming to, being in, and leaving Michigan just puts me in country music mode.  It's like I go full rural once I get here.

Is it unusual to have a love/hate relationship with surprises?  When someone utters the phrase "I have a surprise for you", my mind is torn into two reactions.  At my core, I automatically begin worrying that I'll dislike or remain neutral to the surprise.  Since I'm virtually incapable of feigning excitement (a.k.a. lying), I'll end up inadvertently offending the surprise giver.  So before I've even experienced the surprise, I'm preparing how to make amends for my potentially offensive reaction.

Battling with that thought is a penchant to hold out a slender hope that the surprise will be amazing.  My mind starts to run away with possibilities, but my pragmatism always wins out, scratching each idea nearly immediately.  This leaves me with a vague sense of hoping for the best, but planning to be underwhelmed.  Maybe that's my personal mechanism of "under promise, over deliver".

There is a third point on the surprise continuum: the absolute surprise.  The kind that isn't promoted or hinted at beforehand.  It nixes the hang time that allows overanalysis, so the reactions will be truly genuine responses to the unexpected.  Of course, when you're known to process before reacting and are capable of being non-emotive, you still face a potential need to diffuse the situation.

Surprises are stressful.  They just happen to be a little less stressful when you don't preface them.  Yet somehow I'm still in favor of being surprised.  I do have a tendency to smell surprise in the air though, so I'm still waiting on an absolute surprise in my life.

Don't worry if you're confused.  I just wrote all of that and I'm still unsure of my own verdict on surprises.

Although I've learned this lesson many times throughout my life, I've been constantly hit over the head with it this week.  Things don't always go as you expected.

My new caveat to this age-old lesson is that unexpected things can still turn out pretty well, though perhaps in a different way.  Having the right attitude and the highest caliber people in your life can make all of the difference.

A job interview awaits me on Tuesday.  I've already put a lot of stock and hope into it.  I have to make my way to New York, a city I'm not very familiar with and oddly intimidated by, for the interview process.  There's a lot of ways for this journey to culminate.  All I can control is my mind and my actions.

Maybe some things won't go as expected.  Especially in an unfamiliar city, among people you don't know, the script can change quickly.  I doubt that I'll manage to move forward with no expectations, but I'll at least attempt to keep them subdued.

I've been working on coaxing out my inner optimist.  Today marked my most recent experiment.  This year marks the fourth summer that I have spent living in Chicago, which also equates to living through four Air & Water Show weekends.

Although I have never actually attended the show, I'm fully capable of imagining two million bodies crammed into the thin stretch of lakefront land between Oak Street Beach and Fullerton.  And I want no part of that mass of sweaty people.

Since I also live in the vicinity, that overflow reaches my day-to-day life.  The simple act of using a sidewalk becomes a life-endangering pursuit.  The second anyone starts to hear jet thrust, they come to  a complete and abrupt stop in front of you, even in the crosswalks, to look up into the sky.  Thus, I tend to skip town each year on this weekend.

Unfortunately I skipped town last weekend and gas is expensive.  So, instead I've decided to change my mind and behavior, to the extent that I can.

First of all, I've admitted to myself that sitting in my apartment and watching Blue Angels fly-bys is a rather unique experience.  And the sound of jet thrust does bring me back to the absurd number of times that I watched Top Gun in high school, before I knew too much about Tom Cruise.  These guys  do some pretty amazing things and I have to appreciate them for that.

Secondly, I realized that through a simple act known as avoidance, I can remain mostly ignorant to the gawking masses and the inherent frustrations.  Google was helpful in finding me the show times (10am-3pm), so I'll make sure to avoid the streets during that period.  I'll avoid the lakefront at all costs and attempt to make any outdoor movements in a westward direction.

So maybe I'm still not a natural optimist, but I gave up a little ground.  Baby steps.

I don't currently have one of those fancy full-time jobs that all the kids are talking about these days, so I need to set goals and benchmarks for myself in other ways.  Lately it seems to be my personal health and fitness - oh, and searching for jobs.

Since I had such a successful week of exercising and healthy eating (seven days straight), I thought I'd reward myself with some reading at the beach.  If only there was enough sand real estate that I could read without being in range of conversations I'd rather not hear.

What I'm learning about myself is that I need variety to keep things from getting stagnant.  When I try to exercise the same way every day, I eventually stop.  And by eventually, I mean within days.  So last week, I switched it up: running, walking, biking, tennis.

Tomorrow, I'm attempting yoga again.  I know it's supposed to improve your flexibility, but I feel like such a fool doing it with my current limited ability to be pretzel-like.  It's a free class though, so the worst case scenario is a wasted hour of my morning.

American flags seem fitting today, watching the U.S. women's gymnastics team win gold and Mr. Phelps setting his all-time winningest record.  I'll admit that I got chills watching the U.S. women stick their vaults cold.  Unfortunately tape delay and social media led to a leaked result before I could watch it with my own eyes.  That dampened the anticipation significantly.

I was happy for the giddy teenage girls and felt a natural flow of patriotism, but I can't say it measured up to the Magnificent 7 in Atlanta.  Granted, I was heavily invested in each of those gymnasts' careers and the sport in general at that point.  But the drama was also so much more intense until the last minute.

It was amusing to hear the ladies interviewed about their earliest Olympic memories, which don't go back any earlier than 2004.  This is the first Olympics where I've repeatedly realized just how old I'm getting.  There are fifteen year olds winning gold medals; I need to step up my life accomplishments.  Although, according to the campaign that Nike is running, greatness is in all of us - not just reserved for a cadre of elite athletes.

The day started pleasantly and promising enough.  By 10:00am I had already worked in a three mile walk by the lake, a shower and breakfast.  I made a command decision that today would be a Starbucks coffee day, thanks to a few bucks remaining on my gift card.  After navigating the crowd in my tiny neighborhood coffee joint, my iced coffee and I traveled to a park bench.

It was more than an hour before the sun started to fade out and the dark sky rolled in.  I was making such great progress on The Grapes of Wrath, only five pages left.  Determination to make that book a part of my past instead of my present (it's been a struggle to read a book I'm not enjoying) allowed me to convince myself that I could easily make it home before the rain.  I was partially correct.

Finally finished, I started toward home, a mere three blocks away.  The sky was ominous and intriguing, so I saw no harm in stopping for a photo.  Then the dust started gusting into my eyes, leaves were pouring out of trees onto my head, and I could hardly walk forward or in a straight line.  Garbage bins were crashing and burning onto the path one or two steps behind me.

It became unclear whether I should duck into a doorway or try to make it home.  Part of my mind was flashing through scenes from Twister, anticipating an F5 in the next thirty seconds.  Ultimately, I decided that I'd rather be in my own building should it come to that; there was comfort in the idea of a secure underground level.  As I started crossing the street, my mass of hair whipping in front of my face, there was a sound of metal screeching on concrete.  Sure enough, a large metal sculpture on the sidewalk corner had just tipped into the street as easily as a chess pawn.  If that wind was taking down ten feet of metal, I had no business being outside.  Time to pick up the pace.

I jogged the next block and a half, noting tree branches on cars, people cowering in alleys and doorways, other people jogging toward wherever, metal torn away from telephone posts, dislodged signs.  These winds had been in effect for no more than three minutes and I was clueless about what else was coming.

Once I stepped inside my building, and checked that my car was debris-free, my heart rate slowed, but I noticed that there was a little tremor in my hand.  Checking out the weather radar quelled any worries, seeing that I was on the northernmost edge of a front heading southeast.  Of course, that made me wonder what the center of the storm looked like.  A few highlights, according to the National Weather Service: "damaging wind in excess of 60 mph, large hail, deadly lightning".

I thought it might be nice to pay homage to the sunny blue skies before the cold and rain regain their foothold tomorrow.  Luckily, I have a writing gig that demands completion tomorrow.  The forecast promises that I won't have to turn away from my computer screen and look longingly out the window.

There seems to be a slight momentum coming my way as this month wraps up and the next begins.  Whether it's a temporary surge remains to be seen.  In essence, I feel as though I'm on the brink of figuring something out or discovering the crack that leads to an "a-ha!" moment.  I can feel myself (metaphorically) leaning over the edge of a precipice, arm outstretched as far as it can go, just barely shy of reaching that coveted and unknown object.  All it needs is a little push, or perhaps on unorthodox approach to problem solving, to get it into my hands.

Yes, this is all a bit abstract.  Somehow, I just feel like something pivotal will happen soon; I'm ready and waiting to coax it along.