Consider this a placeholder

I'm not interested in trolling through code to make mods inside each of the numerous config files guiding this site to do testing right now, so it's possible a bunch of stuff around here is broken. I think I've got the major stuff covered, but if you find something that doesn't seem to be working quite right please let me know so I can set to work on it. It's been both an adventure and a learning experience, and given the relatively small amount of time I've had to recover I think I've done alright. Thank God for the web! I never would have gotten things back together without it.

Rather than whine about my machine or my own stupidity, I'm going to post one of the pretty launch pictures my friends and family got after Atlantis finally blasted off on Saturday morning. Why post it if everybody's seen it? Because it's pretty and I like it. That's why.

In case I've never mentioned it, I really do think I work at one of the coolest places in the world. :)

Captured At:2347

I believe I was told once that it's not possible for me to be blank, yet at this moment that seems the best I can come up with to explain why it is I can't motivate myself to write something today after such a long absence.

Maybe it's because everything I've had to put on hold somehow balances out to this middle ground that's neither stroking onward optimistically nor exhaustedly treading water in the ocean of my life. In that I recognize an all too familiar fork in the road where I get to do something I've never been fond of: make a choice.

And here is where I struggle. In part I want to rattle off a list of all the reasons one should be proud that have helped keep me flying for weeks. I want to share the adventures I've gone in search of that make my superiors increasingly certain that one day they're going to have to bail me out, and the slivers of feedback I've received that tell me I really am doing okay in some of the ways that, to me, matter most. Somehow, though, the triumphs feel hollow.

The best thing I can liken it to is the kid who just scored the winning point of the game and has an entire crowd praising his performance, yet the parents whose presence meant the most never showed. He's looking around hoping for some sign he wasn't forgotten again, but the smiling faces and hugs never appear. The longer he waits the further his heart sinks such that even the thrill of victory doesn't matter anymore. I can see him standing there in a crumpled uniform fighting back a hurt that his dark eyes can't hide as teammates cheer in celebration around him.

I can't bring myself to swim in memories or evaluate a string of important revelations of self as I'm often prone to do. The only one who needs to know these things - the only one it even matters to - is me. It's a sad moment when you realize that if the next phone call extended the best or worse news of your life you don't know who you'd go in search of to share it with, and settle on the fact that it would probably be nobody.

So this is me, not quite sure what I think or feel right now. Not quite sure what to do with myself as I look around an apartment still recovering from a storm of rearrangement while my stomach makes piteous cries for the nourishment I've neglected to provide it today.

Maybe I should get on that...

Captured At:1541

Humble

To say there was something strangely familiar in the air as I walked to my car this morning would be inaccurate. I've come to realize that the only time "strange" comes into play is when the atmosphere outside my apartment doesn't feel like something I know or remember.

Strangely familiar. Seems a bit of a contradiction, doesn't it? Add that to the list of expressions I don't understand...

In years past my approach would have drawn the attention of several gathered to peruse the posters on sale, but there wasn't a familiar face in the crowd. I was nervous for no real reason as I ascended the steps and rounded the corner, then entered a room to find that somebody had neglected to inform me of the afternoon's dress code. It became the joke to mask my slight discomfort. I never get this stuff right.

Though conversation never actually touched the things I'd been invited to talk about, lunch passed pleasantly enough and provided a good excuse for taking the day off. Some would say I don't do that nearly enough.

I know I say this every time I go, but returning to campus really does produce mixed emotions. For five years it was my home, my job, my identity, my life. The faces of the students have changed. The faces in the offices have changed. I was told there isn't a fun teacher left in my old department; that they either left the school or became too hard to want to give students to. I heard bad things about those occupying positions I once held and, coupled with statements from move-in day, I have to wonder why the world there has changed so much. Or maybe it always was that way and I was too caught up in what I needed to do to really notice.

What easily goes down as the highlight of the afternoon was poking my head into the office of, in my opinion, the most wonderful man on that campus. He's one I always remember for his overflowing amount of compliments and encouragement, his dedication to his work, and for having a real heart for the students and the university. Mostly he listened as I shared the story of how I got to NASA with one of the women in the office, talked about the wonderful people I work with and projects I'm on, and expressed how thankful I am for everything I've been given from people to opportunities to abilities.

I was told I sound happy and passionate about my life right now. I was told it sounds like I'm working hard and also leaving an impression with the people I work with. And I think the most incredible thing was that, for once, I didn't argue with any of it. I realized that I'm sincere in everything I do and my motives are pure. Fortunately the evidence I'm building supports my belief that being genuine makes all the difference in the world.

I listened to the words coming out of my mouth and couldn't believe this person whose body I was sitting in. So often I hear people say good things about her and I feel they've somehow been deceived such that if they really knew me, they'd never associate with her again. But today, flooding into every inch of me, I could feel the beautiful, amazing girl that everybody tells me is destined for great things.

And I can't claim credit for who she is. I can only be thankful.

At my last stop I encountered a kid who I remember talking with during his visit as a participant in the now defunct 24 hour program. One of my freshman, yet he's graduated and working on his second degree now. I couldn't believe it.

That's probably how these people I drop in to see on campus feel about me. They watched me grow up. They watched me transform from being just another face in the freshman class to being the face of the university on some of its biggest days. Who could possibly have looked at me on day 1 and guessed where I'd be standing on day 1715? Surely I didn't. I'm just...well...me.

In some important ways it felt great to be back. It provided a boost I definitely needed and encouragement I'm thankful to have. In others it was really tough. It brings out memories of times and people I'm sad to have lost. It helps me realize that for as far as I've come there's still an infinite distance left to go. At the present moment I'm struggling to remind myself that I'm not going back tomorrow. I have a job I'll be returning to; one complete with a new beta that needs my attention.

To round out the day I got a phone call during which I was told that I should know somebody out there thinks of me every day and is thankful I'm here. His words made me a little sad, but they were good to hear. I won't always be a good thing, but I truly hope that when all is said and done the positive impacts far outweigh the negative. I want to give my best to everyone.

And when somebody pickes me up, I want to pass that along to the next person so they can have part of it too.

So to my friends who may read this: Thanks for putting up with me as I oscillate through this bizarre concept that is growing up. The next few years are going to be a bit rough, so please be patient with me.

And to those lost who may somehow stumble upon or see this one day: Thank you, truly, for having been part of my life. I miss you more than you'll probably ever realize.

Captured At:2100

It was raining when I finally walked out the door tonight. Something about the drops falling lightly on my head took me back to last November when I first began working insanely late nights. Truth be told, I didn't know what to make of it.

Several times over the last few weeks I've walked outside feeling like it was autumn. This is unheard of for me in Florida. I keep telling myself I need to figure out when to go back to NY to visit my family. I'd love to see everyone, and it was great when I went last year. I can still see that first green lawn blanketed in yellow leaves that brought tears to my eyes. Visions of my life there suddenly begin flashing through my memory and I can feel how much I miss it. This whole world I used to imagine as a kid comes back and I'm sad to realize I'll never have it. I had such simple dreams and so many desires for these small stolen moments to come that I can honestly say I never told anybody.

Sometimes I wonder if I don't talk so that things can stay with me the way I want to keep them; so that in my head they can be as wonderful as I want to believe regardless of how realistic or practical they are. Those things I don't say are far more revealing of who I really am, and I guard her closely. I've decided I'm difficult in that when it comes to what I think and feel, I want people to know without my having to tell them. It's been the source of so many of my problems, and yet to change it feels like giving up because I have to believe somebody gets it.

As I drove to work this morning I found myself running through a list of questions. I recalled a website from my early college years where you could make up a quiz to test how well your friends actually knew you, and I decided that if I were to write one today almost nobody would pass. I'd design it to be hard intentionally if for no other reason than to make them see that for as much as they think they know, they've barely scratched the surface.

Part of me likes the idea of being a mystery. Part of the mystery is terribly lonely being one.

It's been a strange day. As I put it to one of the guys this morning, if I were still working for the old boss I would have called in sick even though I wasn't. And it's these days that I become most thankful for where I am right now. I'm not sure they realize just how much they keep me in check or the extent to which I need them, but both are true. Of course if they did know it wouldn't work quite so well.

Such an apparition these words are. I didn't even think I had anything to say tonight. Funny how that happens, isn't it...

Captured At:2151

"The bulldozers bury the past..."

I think the first time I ventured North on US-1 was with my sister to visit a friend at a hospital in Rockledge. We had no idea its northern terminus was in Maine, but from our entry point at the intersection of 192 this foreign road seemed to stretch on forever. Four years later that same hospital has become a familiar landmark on my daily commute to work. Rockledge suddenly doesn't seem as far away as it used to.

The native Floridians I work with can remember my 20 mile patch of US-1 as going through the middle of nowhere with few buildings of note between Cocoa and Melbourne. I have come see it as a unique time line where pieces of a simple history I imagine meet the grandiosity of the present I have been raised in. It's both open and cluttered, tired and modern.

I can't remember how long ago it happened, but I know it was my judgmental side whose attention was first caught by the small straw-colored concrete building next to the railroad tracks between 520 and 528. The sign outside boasted the word "Hotel" and I couldn't imagine it as a place anyone would be excited to arrive at for their stay on the space coast.

One afternoon the word "closed" spelled out in the customizable white space of the hotel sign registered itself as a feature. I searched my memory and realized I wasn't sure if I had ever seen the place open. Given my initial impression of the building it didn't surprise me that business had not been good. Under "closed" the sign displayed a final message. "God loves you."

Much like the hospital or the VAB each morning, this little yellow building became an object I'd pick out on my drive home. Every day the place remained coldly closed and abandoned, and every day it continued to extend warm thoughts to any who gave mental pause to read as they sped by. And it was this very contrast that transformed it from a rundown abhorrence to something beautiful in my eyes.

I drove past one night and my spirits sank a little to see pair of construction trucks parked next to the remains of the building. The sign stood fixed still proclaiming "Closed    God loves you" despite the giant chunks of concrete littering the ground behind it. The juxtaposition hit harder this time and I began considering how to get a picture that would truly capture what I saw in it.

The next morning I picked out the building again and noticed the side of the sign facing me didn't say "Closed    God loves you" it said "Closed    God bless you." Had it been changed? That afternoon I checked the text on the north side, which was now standing in front of less debris. The next morning I verified the south side and concluded that they were different. How many years and I had never noticed?

And so it went for the next few days. I'd now check while driving both directions as the debris disappeared and the ground became a blanket of dirt behind the hotel sign. I'd wonder about the symbolism, the lessons one could take of maintaining hope and faith at difficult times when the world seems to be crumbling, and what the new hotel appearing behind this lone reminder might look like.

Last night when I drove home the sign was gone. I never did take that picture.

I felt a strong sense of loss realizing how many missed opportunities I'd had. I think that thought bothered me even more than the disappearance of my weary concrete sentinel sharing unconditional love. Though I can still see him standing there now, mental pictures become fuzzier with time. I'll want to look for him knowing he doesn't exist to be found. It will become harder to believe he ever was and I will never be able to remember him the way I had really wanted to. Somehow that seems the worst crime of all.

Maybe this all sounds silly. On one level it really is, but on a much deeper one it's profoundly symbolic. Sharing in words was the only option I had left. I had to tell even if nobody the story reached would ever get it.

And I had to tell because I want to remember.

Captured At:1800

"Give it if you've got it, get it if you don't..."

"So do you get a lot of people over here to watch this stuff, or am I just weird like that?"
"When the orbiter comes in everybody wants to see it. You'll get a few for the tank, but nobody really for this part. You're probably the only one..."

Hours earlier a 5 o'clock sun had beaten warmth into my face as I approached the gate standing between me and the large open door I had been looking into while I drove. Even from the road I could see the cylinder dwarfed inside the building, its white radiance refusing to succumb to the darkness of the vast space around it. It called out in reassurance that the night would not disappoint; that yet another arcane whim was about to be satisfied.

I discovered that the VAB has a completely different feel to it when many of the bay doors are open. It was this observation which silenced me the most as I walked up the transfer aisle, not the usual awe at the sheer size of the place. A week prior a voice had echoed through it to tell me I've been there long enough and don't have to look up when I walk in anymore, but I can't help it. The place still blows me away.

Much like pirate code, stacking schedules are more like guidelines than absolutes. When it neared time for the segment lift to begin the sun had long since vanished and stars could be seen through the open doors. Earlier in the visit my "guide" had explained the nature of the winds within and around the building, and on the floor that night I got to experience exactly what he'd spoken about.

In front of me the segment sat patiently waiting for the upward tug to raise it from its yellow stand. Long gusts passing through the open door behind me blew back the rope separating us from the hazard zone and sent a refreshing breeze for my hair to dance upon. They hit my face as I turned to take the wind head on or to visually absorb the space and the history and the excitement of the new experience I was standing in. It was one of those moments where I was overcome by the power of simplicity and the magic of life, and could do nothing but extend my mouth in a smile that, to some, has the power to illuminate what is volumetrically one of the largest facilities in the world. For as long as it's within my control, it's a moment I will never forget.

The most amazing part of the actual lift was the Alice in Wonderland effect. Anything looks small sitting on the floor of the VAB - even a 12ft. diameter SRB segment- but the higher it got the more it appeared to shrink and the slower it seemed to move. I felt as if the building were somehow growing taller to swallow me up as well.

"So I guess I am weird then."

He says no and, honestly, I agree. There's nothing wrong with wanting to see, understand, explore, and experience what's been put around you. Failure to do so would actually be denying some of the key pieces that make me who I am. And if in the process I get to be a different face breaking up some of the monotony of a second shift life in NASA's most recognizable landmark and helping reopen people's eyes to the amazing program they're part of - which I apparently already have - everyone wins. Enthusiasm is beautifully contagious when given genuinely. I'd say that's one disease worth spreading around.

Captured At: 013