Today's a travel day. On top of my procrastinatory nature, which one can only conclude has prevented me from making preparations of any sort for my departure, it's also daylight savings time again. At any moment I'm going to blink and find an entire hour has vanished. But what's another hour? I'm about two months from 25; is the loss of the other 217,000+ any less important?

I was flipping through old pictures on my computer this afternoon and it amazed me how young everybody looked. I thought the same thing as I looked at a collection of horrible cast party photos a friend emailed me. I was trashed and most of the angles were unflattering, yet there was an undeniable youth in my face.

It would appear there still is. At the going away party one of the guys asked me how old I was. I requested his estimate first, and he was genuinely surprised when I gave him an answer years greater than his guesses. "You don't look that old," he said, "But if you don't mind me saying, you're very beautiful." He then turned to the guy next to him and said, "Don't you think so?" "Striking," was the response.

Compared to both of these men I'm a child. This holds true with just about everybody I work with. What's most amazing is that the vast majority of them don't treat me like one. They're respectful and openly express how much potential they see in me. I'm doing awesome, they adore me, and they predict I'll go far.

They also think I need to lighten up.

I can't blame them for this belief. They only see me in a work environment I have yet to find my place within, and therefore don't really know me at all. They're wonderful people, but they're also settled into life. They have husbands and wives and children and there's really no place there for me. If I don't fit, how could it possibly be expected I'd reach a level of comfort that would allow them to see how lightly I generally take things? If they're not around to watch me play and I'm still trying to work through how to do so where I am, how could they know how much I love to do it?

I honestly believe they'd like to see me happy. This is the motivation I attribute to many of the things they say, especially when the focus is on my need for friends or some sort of life.

"I think you missed your calling. You could have been an artist."
"A photographer."
"No, I can't take credit for that. It has nothing to do with me. When it's this beautiful, all it takes is somebody to click the button."

I can't believe how quickly this week is going by. Huntsville has been awesome.

Captured At: 116

"Don't Put Away Your Dancing Slippers"

At nearly 8pm there are still traces of daylight outlining the rooftops as I peer through the blinds. I've just returned home from the airport, and between the feel that accompanies each of those facts I can't help but ask myself if it's always going to be this way. These moments force me to realize that for all of the progress I make and all of the good days I have, something deeper inside of me is still far more damaged than I care to admit. They tinge a deeper of shade sadness, loneliness and pain across a beautiful world and a fortunate life I continue fighting to revel in with wide eyes.

Those eyes went with me this week as I took my first look at Huntsville, Alabama. Getting there was an adventure in itself. When I finally exited HSV after 11 hours of travel all I really wanted was a huge sympathetic hug, but clearly there was none to be found. Driving around in the daylight I quickly came to the conclusion that the area is beautiful and reminds me of where I grew up. There's a small town feel to downtown that I really liked, the places we ate at were all charming in their own ways, and the people I met were wonderful. It was also really nice to see spring again. I didn't have many opportunities to wander around, but I managed to get some wonderful photographs on the few occasions I did.

Prior to departure this afternoon I was asked if I was planning a "massive Huntsville post" for when I get back. The stories aren't nearly as well formed as some of the others I've composed, but there are a number of moments from this trip which stand out. Shorter versions appear in the travel journal that accompanied me but, given that nobody will ever see it, I suppose I can capture a few memories here.

On the first night of the conference they held a reception in the exhibit hall. I was engaged in conversation with one of the Marshall contractors when I noticed a very lost looking kid standing against the wall nearest us. His name tag boasted "Presenter" and "Exhibitor" ribbons as mine did, but included a third saying, "Student". Politely I asked the gentleman I was speaking with if he could hold on, and attempted to bring the young man into our conversation. The former individual excused himself after a minute or two, leaving us to talk about my new friend's paper, course of study, intended career plans, and thoughts on public speaking. I later apologized for cutting the contractor off as I did, but he assured me there was no need. He thought I had done a wonderful thing and was sure I'd made the kid's night just by noticing him. It was a move that caught me completely by surprise, but I've been in his place - lost among a sea of strangers familiar to each other with no idea what to do - too many times to count. If he could relax for even five minutes, I'd say it was worth it.

The steps to the bunker across from the historic Redstone test site had been closed off with a sign that visitors were not allowed on them. My thought: Who needs stairs? I worked my way up the incline to stand on top of it, leaving my nervous babysitter for that portion of the afternoon further down the hill. I was immensely pleased with myself - perhaps far more than I should have been - and laughed all the way down the other side. I also asked if we could go to the top of the HQ building and unashamedly walked through MSFC's suite of power. My guide was initially unsure about this, but later thanked me for dragging him up there and told anybody he ran into that we had dropped in on the Center Director. We didn't actually see him but that didn't seem to matter, especially to those with a military background for whom, as it was explained, such an act is apparently unheard of. However playful and innocent my intentions, I clearly have tremendous potential to get myself in trouble. I'm fortunate people have been so forgiving thus far.

The Space and Rocket Center was filled with school groups as I toured it, and I found myself far more interested in them than any of the displays. I watched them thinking, "These are the next generation of explorers; I wonder what accomplishments their lifetime will show them." I enjoyed watching them play, shout out answers to space trivia questions with complete confidence, and mold their faces into awe-shaped expressions as they heard about the history of the program. Somewhere in conversation this week the aforementioned contractor commented that what motivates him at this point is working with the younger people and seeing how they develop. Something tells me that years down the road when I'm in a position like he is my thoughts will probably be the same.

I managed to break away from the kids for a bit to take in "Magnificent Desolation" at the IMAX Theater. Doing so was another choice I was surprised to make, but as I absorbed the lunar landscape from the center of the very top row I knew the time had been well spent. I wanted to be up there seeing the real thing stretch infinitely ahead of me with the Earth to navigate by. The view, I speculated, would be incredible, and the peace unmatched. I listened to quotations and absorbed historical footage in total awe, looking down once or twice at the badge still strung around my neck that had allowed me to explore Marshall not long before. Realization of the universe has had a strong effect on me since I was a kid. I never once imagined I could have a role to play as we dive further into it, yet the opportunity was extended with essentially no effort on my behalf. This, too, tells me there's a greater plan to things and that I am /exactly/ where I'm supposed to be. I walked out both deeply touched and with a renewed sense of purpose. I then knew two things to be true. First, we're going back to the moon. I missed it the first time, but I will see us plant more footsteps in the lunar dust. Second, though it seems presumptive and I don't quite understand how, I'm going to take us there.

For as friendly as one tries to be, there are always individuals who are exceptionally difficult to get a read on. One of the men I met this weekend immediately landed in this category; he came across as very rigid and I didn't see a single smile. The originator of every question I got during my presentation, I had no idea what to make of him. I also couldn't get any sort of feel for what he'd made of me. After the exhibits closed on our final night together a large group of us gathered for dinner. My teardown responsibilities completed, I arrived late to find myself in the open spot across from him at one of the tables. His wife was seated to his left. Watching them together I saw glimpses of another person; one less guarded by the firmness that had characterized him all week. His eyes were a tad brighter, and I even caught a few smiles. I emailed everybody one more time before we left the hotel to thank them and say again how much I had enjoyed the opportunity to meet them all. Much to my surprise his response was the longest one I got back, and tucked among remarks of the expected nature was one I couldn't have predicted. "You did an excellent job, and we're proud of you," he said. I established a better rapport with many of the others there than with him, yet somehow this is the feedback that carries the most weight.

It was a good week in Huntsville indeed.

Captured At: 233

"Following my songlines..."

I don't think I'm there much more than five minutes before she notices the pinkish tint, claims I'm blistering, and issues the typical admonishment that I'm going to get cancer. "You do it at this time every year," she states with slight frustration as if this has been a lifelong pattern. In response I maintain that if I'm going to be a crispy critter at least the attribute will be consistent, as opposed to last time when the sunscreen was selectively effective. She cautions because she loves me, and I give her a hard time in return for exactly the same reason. It's been the dynamic of our relationship for years; one I continue to be thankful for.

So love everybody, and make them your friend
The first song to come through the iPod as I start the car takes me back to New York. Dad's in the workroom assembling one of his model airplanes with the music going. We're driving down Van Buren on the way home, perhaps from a playground. I can hear him singing along though he always claimed to be a lousy vocalist. It's a song with a very distinct feel to begin a short trip home.

Making it ain't making it without you
Welcome to I-95 during my first month of employment. The entire album made me think of a friend of mine, but this song in particular had a tremendous impact. There were many times I'd tell myself I would have to play it for him and tell him that every time it came on I heard the words as coming from his significant other. I'd listen and want to tell him to just hang on; that everything would work and they'd finally be okay. I never did. Tonight, though I've lost track of them never to regain it, I thought of them both just the same. And as I did, I hoped I was right. Most would never believe it, but part of me was always cheering them on. It hasn't stopped yet.

On the corner of walk and don't walk somewhere on US-1
I was waiting patiently for the red light on NASA and Airport when Milo made a sudden lane switch to take the right turn. I had no idea where he thought we were going. So much for the driver being in control of the car...

Is anybody waiting at home for you
It's dark as I lay face up in the back bedroom of my grandparents' house with a discman resting next to me on top of the blankets. I'm still recovering from that unexpected appendectomy, and my thoughts are drifting to the boyfriend whose vacation plans I inadvertently changed. Though I missed him, even then I knew something wasn't quite right. Two months later I would leave him for the first time, and would spend the next 2.5 years getting in and out of the relationship. I do really bad things to people. At least he's found his happiness.

Then the door was open and the wind appeared
A friend and I had revisited the cowbell joke hours earlier, so I decided the song could stay. Somewhere in here another unexpected right turn was made. Milo was taking me to the beach and I chose to let him. It ended as we pulled into the parking space and I swapped the Gazelles for flip-flops. Shoes and an extra pair of headphones have become essential items to store in my car at all times.

Only one they got me on is some misdemeanor craziness
This was a happy song during one of my Cary summers. I'd play Mahjongg and sing along happily believing I had the life where I was, and would also be returning to it in a matter of months. I descended the split staircase tonight as he sang that he could "charm a crowd" and thought back to my trip this past week. I was told that I do charming very well. It bothered me that it was put out there as a thing I "do" as if it's part of some game I'm playing. Is it so unconceivable that I'm just being myself and somehow that appeals to people?

Wake up every day that would be a start
I looked up with wonder as I walked, and slowly the music crept so far inside of me that I had to react.
Clouds the light of the love that I found
I bounced and skipped along the low tide, watching distant lightning outline the clouds and reflect off of rocks exposed by a decreased water line.
I've tripped again and things are starting to get interesting
Awe. Bliss.
Night light's shinin' in
Life was wonderful.

I know I'm not a hopeless case
As I returned to the pavilion I realized that I had just used an entire stretch of Atlantic coastline to give the kind of performance most people will only indulge in while standing in front of their bathroom mirror. And you know what? I didn't care. Too many chances at happiness are lost because of who we fear may be watching.

Oh I feel it coming back again
I love the ups. I wish they never went away, but I also know I probably wouldn't be able to appreciate them nearly as much if they didn't. I have a number of mixed feelings to be approaching this time of the year again, but I have also been provided much to look forward to. Old friends and new places are a wonderful thing.

Doesn't it scare you, your will is not as strong as it used to be
I see my old blue monitor resting on the corner desk in the room I'm temporarily occupying. These words spoke to me then, and I recalled wondering if they would speak to him too. My will was gone. I should have been scared, but I wasn't. The fear came later when that loss killed far more than I ever could have imagined. We were wrong. It wouldn't all be okay. It's still not.

Leave them kids alone
I haven't been to the planetarium since the Floyd laser show during my last summer of freedom. The image of a hammer is still burned into my memory, perhaps because it's one of the few I actually saw. When the people I went with asked what I thought I couldn't bring myself to tell them that I had fallen asleep after the first two or three songs. There isn't a single one of them I'm still in contact with. I'm not even sure I would find them if I knew where they were.

Milo snuggles himself between the lines for another night and sends me off with one more "Thank You" for the new shoes. How is it that my car is one of the few that can get it right? He deserves better. I don't take nearly as good care of him as he does of me.

Captured At: 206

"Like a notion that I hope will never leave..."

It has been said that one of the best ways to achieve a goal is to be constantly reminded of it. Somewhere in this process of repetition it will sink far enough into the brain that any steps toward accomplishing it become almost automatic. At least that's what I've heard through countless leadership and self-improvment sessions.

Perhaps there is some merit to this. A few weeks ago I realized I had yet to cross "Sunrise from the Beach House" off of my "To Do While at KSC" list, and this thought remained with me.

When my eyes opened of their own volition at 330 this morning I was sure I must be crazy. Once I went outside, though, I couldn't imagine being back in bed. There's a magical feel to those early hours of the morning when the rest of the world is asleep and the sun is still in hiding that I cherish on the rare occasions I get to experience it. My mind struggled to pull somewhen from its memory with little success. This left me with a dreamy, nebulous sense of happiness as I took to the road.

I was at work at 6am and, yes, finally made it to the beach house to greet the day star. There was a thick strip of clouds over the horizon that tried to blot it out to no avail. The hidden orb would highlight the openings in such a way that I could always tell where it was, and at one point I caught him winking right at me through a tiny neon sliver. I watched the intensity of color build in those few gaps feeling as if I was catching a rare glimpse into heaven. As the ascent continued one thick ray of deep orange stretched down to touch the ocean. This forked into three beams, then six, then multiplied further as another shot through the top of the clouds.

Victory.

I drove away feeling I had left too soon, certain the best was still coming and knowing it was time to return to the office I had disappeared from.

But I couldn't pass up the opportunity for one more stop. Once over the bridge I revisited the camera tracking site from which I had watched the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter launch last August. The view was spectacular. I know it to be fact that I have said this before, and I have no doubt that sometime in the future I will say it again:

Captured At:2053

"And I will wait to find, if this will last forever..."

The new shoes I finally bought are begging for a good breaking in. Nearly every night this week I have driven home telling myself that I will go for a run, yet they continue awaiting that virgin trek to beat the pavement at something above a walking pace. Tonight they’ve been casually flipped onto the bedroom floor to watch through the screen as I lounge cross-legged in my favorite dish-shaped chair and relax adorned in the proper attire for granting their wish. It’s a reminder to myself of what I hope to do, but other things have taken priority.

It feels like Carolina on the porch tonight. I’m not sure why that’s worth noting, but it is. If I really stop and think about it, there are traces of New York as well. I miss feeling home.

This afternoon I spent about half an hour sitting on my desk blowing bubbles. My assigned tasks were complete and the gradual decrease in occupancy of an already quiet office failed to provide anyone who could give me another. Somewhere in that timeframe the joyful high slipped enough into the introspective to leave me feeling a little bummed. “There are a lot of things in life that can get you down,” I thought. “But you have to recognize them for what they are and choose to smile regardless.”

The one song the iPod keeps coming back to is John Mayer’s “Clarity”. There’s something in the feel to it that I have always liked, but as I reflected on talking to people over the past few days it occurred to me that I know exactly where I am. I understand not only how I feel about everything and everyone in my life, but also why I feel that way about them. If every other moment has been like looking through the windshield as I fly up SR-3, then this one is the equivalent of turning my head to the left and getting a glimpse of the crisp, sun-saturated treetops through the open window.

For what might be the very first time, and possibly be the only time ever, I have complete clarity.

In some respects there is tremendous freedom in this. Imagine everything you have ever struggled with through countless mental cycles solved to a degree where you are completely comfortable with your comprehension. This doesn’t imply that the answers have appeared, but rather that the problems are clearly defined and the reasons why they are a “problem” are understood. When the world makes sense, what cause is there for worry?

At the same time it begs the question, “Now what?” If I know these things, what do I do with them? How do I make the changes that will remove the excuses and break down the necessary walls? What’s the next step toward progress?

When one reaches so many conclusions at once, restraint is difficult. Part of me wants to sit here tonight and spew everything toward this white rectangle as fast as my fingers can press the letters into it. The rest knows that would be a poor attempt at meeting an identified need with little certainty of fulfillment.

Like wearing the running clothes, perhaps.

Captured At:2237

"No you never see it comin'..."

When it was determined that I would, in fact, be moving, there was a small amount of excitement from a pair of women included among my future neighbours. “We’re going to corrupt her,” they stated proudly to the others.

“I’m okay with you teaching her, it’s what you’re teaching her,” he was told. He’ll remark that I’m “coming along nicely” and, when he picks up my tone as I ask exactly what he means by that, tells me I regard corruption like it’s a bad thing.

Recognizing the potential for my understanding of the word to be incorrect I verified the definition of “corrupt”. The verb form only has one entry that isn’t entirely negative, and that particular option appears second to last on the list.

Often I respond to these things by saying that I’m not nearly as impressionable as they all believe me to be. One looked back with a bit of a smirk recently and said, “Yeah, but you’re more so than you think.”

It’s the notion of being impressionable that struck me as I crossed the 528 causeway on the drive home. Set to the sounds of “License to Chill,” the convergence of the route with the temperature and position of the sun was poking dimples into the rubbery surface of my memory. It dawned on me that I had been very strongly impressed upon without having any realization of it. The first time – first series of times, perhaps – that the world felt like this it had stayed enough with me that it was unmistakable when I encountered it again.

Suddenly I had to admit that I was very impressionable indeed, and my thoughts proceeded down the path which had been set before them.

There are words and phrases I use with people that I know have their origins in previous relationships. I tell myself I do this because it makes me smile and allows me to keep close those who are distant, but I have to question how much choice is really involved when things I have shared with them are involuntarily triggered.

How many things have I made the poor choice to do without realizing I had been desensitized to the situations by external influences? How many scenes do I revel in purely because they’re of a nature that was constantly being brought to my attention?

Where does my self-image really come from? Do I see myself as I believe I am, or as I was told I am? For a very long time I know it was the latter and most of those opinions were not good. I still struggle with that to this day.

When I looked in the mirror for the first time and acknowledged that the person looking back was beautiful, did I truly see that, or was I using the eyes of somebody else whose opinion I valued when they told me I was?

How much of the laughing and playing that I’m doing at work is genuinely a result of being more comfortable? In the last email I asked him at what point he would believe I had lightened up; he said he’d let me know and to keep working at it. He’ll never see it, but part of me hopes that when they finally do, somehow he’ll find out.

On that day, who will it be that they’re actually seeing? Where will she have come from?

In the “change the original form of” sense there is simply no way to go through life without being corrupted. And I realized that if nothing changes, I’ll be shaped exactly how those doing the corruption want for the simple reason that it will be all I know. I won’t have had any choice in the matter. One day years from now I’m going to catch that word or that action which leaves me unable to do anything other than shake my head, laugh, and say, “Damn it. They got me after all.”

Captured At:2353

"Through years and miles and tears and smiles..."

The list of stuff I have yet to do for tomorrow's picnic and my Sunday morning departure is so large I don't even want to think about it. Despite that, I'm lounging around the living room stumbling through this post anyhow. Somewhere outside a lawnmower is hoping to drown out the Jack Johnson song coming through the speakers. The current lyric he's repeating is "Please don't go away"; it seems all too appropriate.

This afternoon pieces of a group I haven't seen assembled in two years gathered for what was originally planned to be lunch. As things came together my excitement to see everyone grew, but part of me was also a little nervous about the reunion.

Then the hugs came. And the smiles. And the questions about who was doing what, where one had gone when he fell off the face of the planet, if the newcomer had a name other than "my cousin", and who could be talked into joining the June trip to Germany. Four of us gave up on the fifth, moved from the SUB to somebody's house, and were joined by another we randomly managed to get a hold of. We ate and shot pool, easing slowly back into the company we used to keep.

We returned to campus and laughed as we played Frisbee in the middle of the academic quad. When the previously absent fifth arrived something inside of me smiled deeply as I watched him embrace the one we had randomly tracked down, both guys wearing bright eyes and a huge smile. Two tackled the bouncy obstacle course. The winner challenged me and I would have won had he not grabbed me as I climbed up the wall and pulled me off. All I could do as I fell was laugh and flip him off.

As he talked to others he had arranged to meet in the Olin lounge the rest of us sat around discussing nothing of any consequence. Every one of them who set foot on campus this afternoon said the same thing: "I never thought I'd be back here again."

Back at the house we reminisced about the days of foosball, Tetris, and boat parties. For a moment it felt as if nothing had changed. There were no jobs. There was no geographic distance. There was no time. And to be there felt wonderful.

Five hours later we finally said good-bye. I was sorry to leave but, as tends to be the case, we were all on to other things. That's just how life goes.

Driving away to run the necessary errands I realized the one thing I lamented was not having had the chance to talk one-on-one and find out where they really were. I only dipped deeper below the surface with two of them, and only for a moment. I sense there's much more that has gone unsaid, but I did verify that the one I wondered most about was happy. Something in me worries a little about them all.

As with every time I get to see people it's difficult being back home and alone again. That can't hold me up tonight though. There are Jell-O shots to be made, there's packing and cleaning to be done, and another series of adventures waits around the corner in the form of bonding with co-workers and playing conference in another new place.

For as many times and people as I miss, there's an entire world still waiting to reveal itself to me. I'm still taking those baby steps and reminding myself that if I have faith everything will fall into place exactly as it should.

Exactly as it does.

Exactly as it has.

Captured At:1954

Being outside this evening carried me back to those lazy Carolina summers I enjoyed during my college days. The welcome reception was taking place on the terrace at the conference hotel, and we sat alone at a table closest to the brick wall. Not only were we surrounded by individuals of a completely different profession, but it seemed everyone in conversation around us had an English accent and knew each other somehow.

As my eyes scanned the scene they fell upon the table in front of me. The perimeter was composed of a series of bumps and indentations, and on one of the former I noticed a tiny speck resting about midway through. Suddenly my little black dot began to run; down the bump, into the trench, up the hill, down into another trench... He did this for a few repetitions before stopping.

"How frustrating," I thought. "He reaches the top and has to run right back down again. I wonder if he's tired. Or maybe annoyed... We make these things for decoration and nobody considers the trouble a bug might encounter trying to navigate it."

Then it caught my attention that I was examining the potential thought process of an insect. I was surprised to have found myself at his level seeing each of those little bumps - in real life no higher than my pinky finger - as tiresome hills of frustration.

Size makes us no greater a creation than my tiny exoskeleton-adorned companion. How often do we feel we're pushing ourselves to stand atop the peak only to find there's far more left to be done? How often do we feel we're running in circles and seeing no real accomplishment for our efforts?

Life carries with it some highly unappealing constants. This is important to understand. It is also important to realize that our character is defined by the answer to a simple question: "When faced with them, what do we do?" I may wear myself out in the process, but I hope I keep running.

Captured At:2330

I remember telling a friend once that they needed to learn how to deal with their problems individually instead of letting them build upon each other in such a way that one undesirable situation dredged up five years worth of issues they had never resolved. Tonight I’m forced to consider my own advice.

The details aren’t important, but the synopsis would outline what happened as being the most recent square on a quilt years in the making. Long ago I came to accept the pattern for what it is, yet that hasn’t made the recurring evidence in support of its existence hurt any less.

My progress tonight came in calmly stating my feelings for what they were. It came in recognizing why I felt as I did and acknowledging the different components of the emotions truthfully. It hurt on one level because these sorts of things have always happened; because words are nothing without the actions to support them and I have yet to feel something I’ve been told on numerous occasions.

It hurt more because, as I said shortly after, it opened up wounds from a terrible mess I continue wanting to fool myself into believing I’m past. I knew where I would have run if the world had been different. I could guess at what would have been said, and I knew the one saying those words would never have done what threw me off in the first place. The sting further intensified as I considered what I had lost.

“Can’t miss what you never had, right?”
“Nope.”
“Of course, the things you have had and lost, you can miss those a whole heck of a lot.”
“Oh yeah.”

Sometimes I worry that when I speak I paint a melancholy picture of my life. I do pay attention, and I know how it sounds. I try at all times to recount fact which, if one is honest, seldom shines in its entirety. The particular dialogue that caught my attention tonight was this:

I’m not really a burn my bridges kind of person; I don’t like to leave things like that. My mantra seems to be “hope for the best, expect the worst.” I just sort of let things run their course. Somebody I used to know once told me that relationships are either building or dying. [My sister] said once that the people in our lives were there to teach us something and, once they had, they’d go.

Needless to say I’ve learned a great deal and the ones who taught me aren’t anywhere to be found. I’ve just sort of come to accept this as life. It still hurts but I’m used to it. I tell everybody they’ll go, and nobody ever believes me when I say it. I wonder if they remember that after they disappear. I wonder if it hurts them to know they failed to heed the warning as it hurts me to have known it would happen.”

The key here is that even when I believe this to be true I don’t treat people any differently. I try incredibly hard to give my best and more to those I care about regardless of my perceived outcome for the relationship. I ask nothing in return and try very hard not to hope for it either. Sometimes I wonder if people have any idea just how hard that is, but to me it all really comes back to love. My hope is that one day I’ll find someone else who speaks the same dialect.

“You know I love you.”
“I’m glad somebody does. I really am. And I love you too.”
“The ones that matter always do; can’t worry about the ones that don’t.”
“What about the ones that say they do and seem to suck at showing it?”
“It’s love misdirected.”
“Why do I have so much of that in my life?”
“I don’t know.”

As I was told shortly before that, nothing will be solved in an evening. Tonight’s patch is some happy music to pick me up so that I’ll be back on track for tomorrow when it will be time once again to make that list of people proud. I’m really very fortunate to have so many out there who believe in me, but that’s another post for another night.

Captured At:2330

"Nobody ever told me not to try..."

As I turned the corner my attention was caught by the sound of sneakers scuffling along the pavement and the pleasant pop which signals proper propulsion of a radioactive green felt ball. Aside from putting away that perfect shot, my next favorite feeling when I play tennis is the pause where it seems everything else has stopped to wait for my next swing as I run forward to meet the ball. I have also encountered this sensation while playing Frisbee, jumping for a toss barely within reach and hanging mid-air until my hand closes around the disc. For a split second it seems I've broken the laws of gravity to hover just above the ground. Perhaps with the right "wonderful thoughts" I would find myself flying off into the sky.

The stairway is bathed in the gold of a setting spring sun as I approach the building carrying my backpack and a handful of mail. The black car I've just walked past has triggered a strange combination of thoughts that vary between "I want." and "But I /can't/ get rid of Milo..." I know the time remaining is limited, yet I'm still working to get comfortable with the idea of losing a travel companion who has been everywhere with me from Key West to Boston.

My last road trip took place in a government owned mini-van. Somewhere along I-95 northbound as I sat balled up on the passenger seat with my knees pulled in toward my chest I flashed back to a barstool in a once familiar living room. On that particular day I was also bumming around in cloth shorts, a t-shirt and bare feet, and I was doing so with a distinct feeling of nervous vulnerability as I tried to come to terms with what I had done. I didn't know which words were written across my face, but I felt completely exposed and slightly ashamed. I think even then something in me knew it shouldn't have been that way. It always saddens me to realize on just how many occasions I have allowed myself to accept less than the wonderful things I deserve - and I use that term with great hesitation.

It ties in well to the fog of this morning, though the driver for the haze isn't something I can really explain. It's throwing me off something awful as it fights to pull me into a feeling when the world was slightly different, I was being "so twenty-three" in a much cleaner apartment, and Jack Johnson was singing about there being "not enough time" instead of wanting to "turn the world upside down." Like the flashback in the car that caught me off guard, I'm right there with a former incarnation of myself struggling to hold onto the now instead of getting completely sucked in.

Monday marks exactly two years since my college graduation, though today's position on the calendar is essentially equivalent in time. Letting that thought take me is only going to result in a fountain of tears and yet another unfinished jumble of words. But I can get through it if I remember one simple thing:

Baby steps.

That was one of the main themes back then. What it meant - to me at least - was that things had to be done one tiny step at a time because it was the only way to tackle the tremendous knot my life had become.

Members of the group were seated together at round tables. I sat toward the back using my left hand to scribble pale purple ink onto the pages of a dark blue spiral notebook, but it wasn't session notes I was composing. I was pondering baby steps on a different level, comparing the reality with the metaphor.

I wonder what a child is thinking when they make their first steps. What motivates them to give mobility a try? Is there a trigger, or are they merely doing what comes naturally?

Nobody stands up for the first time and strides confidently across a room. Those inaugural movements are shaky, made on nervous untrained legs. And because of that there are quite a few falls before the action can be successfully carried out with any sort of consistency.

Metaphorically, I often think I'm in that stage where I'm making a few wobbly motions before my legs collapse; either from physical inadequacies or mental intimidations in the form of memories such as the aforementioned. The floor I'm in the middle of looks huge, and frustrated honesty indicates that making it across at this rate is an impossibility. I keep looking around for somebody to pick me up and carry me to the other side, but they've positioned themselves at a distance to watch and leave me with no choice but to try again. Sometimes it feels like some cruel test for their amusement. Others I think they're not quite sure where I should be carried. That they are waiting with interest to see the course I choose for myself and what I do next.

"The first part of achieving is believing," she said. So I can find comfort knowing that despite the challenges and uncertainty, I am a believer. And when I do get moving I know it will feel like that mid-air pause has ended and my feet are on the ground again ready to run. That's all part of the thrill of this game I'm playing.

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