see as i saw

Some days are just off-kilter.  From nearly the beginning, this was one of those days.  An off-kilter day isn't the same as a disastrous one, where you can immediately pinpoint a catalyst.  For me, it starts with an underlying disjointed feeling, then slowly crescendos throughout the day.  Suddenly you're anxious, impatient and erupting without really understanding why.

And today I found that this juncture is where yoga is my friend.  For most of the session, my mind is working so hard to convince my body to be malleable that I don't have time to be caught up in the nitty gritty details of my day.  Today offered up a rather fitting mental exercise as well.

As we began class, focusing our minds and bodies, the instructor asked us to assign ourselves a mantra, completing the phrase "I am..."  Quickly cataloging my day, and maybe even a macro level of my life, I struck upon the realization that most of my tension was caused by my reactions to other peoples actions.

So my mantra became, "I am in control of my reactions".  There's not much I can do about what others say or do; my only power comes in the form of how I handle what happens around me or to me.  It's my choice to be upset or calm, the build something up or let it lie.

In an ideal world, this single yoga class would magically evaporate any future tension caused by reactions and expectations.  As a realist, I know that I'm bound to fail at it again...and again.  But I have to imagine that being cognizant, and reminding myself, that I'm in control will ultimately help.  Maybe it'll make me stop, think, breathe - thirty seconds of stepping outside the issue can deter escalation.

I mean, I could be all wrong.  I'm not a psychologist or anything.  My only other explanation, though, is that I forgot my earbuds this morning.  It was a rough deficit for the day, so there's a possibility that it threw everything out of equilibrium.

Sometimes awareness brings us clarity, lends a solution, or aids in decision-making.  But often awareness just makes us anxious, paranoid, and needlessly focused on things we can't really control.

I think that's why I have an issue with watching the local news.  It only took thirty seconds tonight for me to hear that a Chicago firefighter died of West Nile virus and that meningitis is breaking out in Indiana.  My first thought was, "Thankfully I have health insurance again" (eight months without it, now that's a fun exercise in anxiety).  Then I started to worry a little, thinking about how close to home a freak tragedy, accident or illness can be.

So what's the solution to that?  Stop living my life?  Become a recluse?  Give up the outdoors because I'm afraid of running into an infected mosquito or other contagious humans?

On other days, living in the city and hearing what goes down, the worry has extended to being mugged, shot or getting my car stolen.  Oh, and we haven't even broached how secretly sinister people can be while coming off as well-adjusted members of society.  Which is fine, you get the point (and hopefully I haven't sent you into a spiral of paranoia).

I'm all for erring on the side of caution and analysis in life, but there comes a point where you're better off not looking too closely.  I like vacationing in equatorial countries with rain forests, so I wear bug spray and drink bottled water if I must.  Short of an impenetrable force field, I'm pretty sure that's all I can do short of restricting myself from doing things I love.

My actual travel went surprisingly smooth.  Caught a cab to the Blue Line, only had to wait four minutes for a train, five minutes in the security line, took off on time, and landed early.  I even managed to get to my hotel for $5 cheaper when the cabbie decided to take the Williamburg Bridge instead of the Midtown tunnel.  Came in the back door and missed some traffic.

Pretty quickly after checking into my hotel room, which is somehow even smaller than the one I had in the same hotel last week, things started to get strange.  I unpacked and arranged some things around my temporary home, then decided to head out for some wandering.

As soon as I walked out the front door, some sensation drew my attention to my left index finger.  It hurt.  The I realized it was swollen...and turn black and blue.  I started wondering what bit me, because I hadn't hit it, slammed it or tweaked it.  So I rushed back upstairs and scrambled to hunt down an ice machine.

I don't quite remember, but I'm guessing it was somewhere around that point when anxiety starting setting it.  After twenty minutes of icing, I figured it was time to go about my original plan and headed out.  Only, as I walked up 6th Avenue, I felt like my mind and body were detached, unfocused.

Although I wasn't particularly hungry or thirsty, nutrition and hydration were my best guesses to resolve the rather disorienting state.  Duane Reade provided a luxurious bagel and string cheese lunch.  Since I wasn't willing to admit defeat just yet, I nabbed a park bench and tried to convince myself to eat.

Apparently I was being watched, by a kid in his early twenties who had previously been catnapping on another bench.  He approached me awkwardly, said "hi", and proceeded to just stare at me.  I said "hi" and waited.  Then he said his name and stared again.  I responded with "Ok" and waited some more.  I wasn't in the mood.

From there he started rambling, and maybe it was just my state of mind, but half of it sounded like nonsense.  At one point he told me that we're all youthful inside.  Then he was telling me about the beauty of the leaves and grass, which segued into him asking me if I'd like to lay in the park and look at them with him.  I politely declined, telling him I didn't feel well and was going to my hotel.

Since then, I've spent most of my time resting in this king-size bed, only seeing the city through my window.  I suppose I'll be here many more days though, and I have a first day of work to report to in the morning, so I'd rather not press my luck.

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.

The first half of my day seemed intent on not going as expected or desired.  With a recruiter meeting scheduled in River North at 11:00am, I left my place at 10:25am to hop an 11 bus.

As handy as the CTA's bus tracker is, sometimes it lies.  I was supposed to have a four-minute walk that should've easily fit within my seven-minute clearance.  Instead I was a half-block away from the stop as I watched the bus accelerate southbound through the intersection.

No problem, there's always a 22 bus as an alternate plan.  Again I was left with seven minutes to book it two and a half blocks...in heels.  And clearly I haven't had a need to wear heels at any time in the past eight months, so blisters were already forming.

Guess what happened when I was a half-block away?  Southbound bus, intersection, acceleration.  Luckily I live at a virtual crossroads of buses, so I just kept walking the next block over to the 156.  Unfortunately, ten to fifteen minutes had already passed and I had another nine minutes to wait.

Anyone who knows me well is familiar with my anal retentive need to not only be on time, but early. And now I was not only destined to be late, but late to what was essentially a preliminary job interview.

If you'd like to fast forward about twenty minutes with me, I somehow managed to walk in the door, flustered and glistening a bit from the effort, only one minute late.  Then it took only another fifteen seconds to learn that my recruiter was running late.

Thus, I spent a half hour at the Starbucks patio on Franklin and Chicago, people watching and taking pictures of the 'L' tracks.  I felt justified in taking the afternoon off for napping and reading after all of the transportation excitement.  And I think I'll wear flats for the rest of 2012.

After several rounds of literature from the best of all time lists, my mind needed a cool down lap.  I found some fictional light reading; I might even go as far as calling it chick lit.  Not a standard in my reading practices.  To make things even more unusual, one of the main characters had my name...and somehow her life path looked eerily similar to mine in several ways.

In an ideal world, I would have a much more interesting photo for today.  I had grand expectations of stopping over at Northwestern's campus as I passed through Evanston.  In reality, there was no time or energy for such endeavors; so you get a snapshot taken from my driver's seat at a red light.  It is in Evanston though.

I was on the road by 7:00am (it then took only an hour to go twenty miles - insert sarcasm font), then I spent nine hours unpacking a home for a family of five, followed by another hour-long commute.  I decided to skip the highway route on the journey home for two reasons: 1) an accident on the Eden would have made my commute time indefinite and 2) the thought of zig zagging around back roads for the scenic route sounded appealing.

Today's deep thoughts on life were more like reaffirmations...and not that deep.  First, I don't think I could make it living in the city and working in the burbs.  That whole notion of an easier reverse commute is a myth (as opposed to suburbs to city).  My speedometer rarely topped 20 mph this morning.  And second, people just flat out own way more belongings than they could possibly need.  Clearly I am not exempt, although 550 square feet of living space helps stifle the urge to invest in material goods.  Every time I do an unpack or organizing job, I want to come home and purge "stuff".  At least I have a small head start on the game with my nearly obsessive need to organize and contain; that makes accumulation less likely.  It's also helpful that I have long since renounced willingness to partake in ownership of knick knacks and tchotchkes.