The Big Weekend is Here

MCO is going to be invaded with relative after relative through the course of the day as we all come together to celebrate an event nearly 25 years in the making.

I saw the church the other day. It's beautiful, and for the first time this all felt real.

Trying on dresses didn't.

My hours at the Day Spa acquiring somebody else's fingers and toes didn't.

The mailings announcing it and all of the conversations didn't.

Tonight we do the rehearsal and I'm sure it will feel like a scene from some movie, not a real part of my life.

Despite all of this, I'm excited. I'm happier than I have words for to share in one of the biggest days of my sister's life.

So this is it. Here's to a beautiful ceremony and a happily ever after sweeter than they can imagine.

Captured At: 841

I'm forcing myself to write tonight. Somehow it became the one thing on a list of tasks that rose to the top as one to actually accomplish. I suspect this is because of its implicit significance. I don't know what I'm hoping to gain, though perhaps a few minutes to try finding myself in this mess is worth the effort.

I had stated for months that I would be having inches of hair taken off following my sister's wedding. I survived the fairy tale event and proceeded to do just that. When it was over I drove the old route in to work - the one I always took when I first started. I was listening to the same music, feeling the same excitement and energy and love of life as if the last three years hadn't sped past me.

Some seemed to think I had been butchered, or that I must have felt it was "too girly" to keep my hair as it was. "Guys like long hair," I was told as if such a thing has ever affected my actions. They tell me I should keep the useless fingernails I had attached last week and they still cannot wait for the pictures. I love them, really I do, but I'm not a fan of feeling fussed over like that. My decisions are mine, and I don't like them being called out. This is particularly true when it comes to my appearance or deviations in my behaviour from the unimportant things people have come to expect.

On the whole, though, I was in a good mood.

I guess that's why I was so surprised to snap. I never saw it coming, never expected it. And when the recipient stated that "somebody needs a time out" I responded "I'll take it" with a surprising aggression in my voice. The activity only wound me up more. All my walk proved was that something was very off. I gathered what little mental stability I had left and went home before I could do anything else I regretted.

I could feel it pressing on me as I drove. When I got home I immediately hit the couch and didn't wake up for another 5 hours. I was still exhausted, yet I played mindless games until nearly 5am. Something in me was convinced I'd stay home today. Somehow I didn't give in. I could feel it in my head all day though. I lost myself in work and kept entirely to myself.

And then I had to go to HQ. As we talked it started raining. When I left it was raining a bit harder. "Do you have an umbrella," I was asked as I approached the east door. "Nope." "Well you might want to get one, I don't think you can walk that fast." "Sure I can."

Half way back to my building I wanted nothing more than to twirl around beneath the downpour, arms flung out and face to the sky. When I got back inside I didn't care that I was dripping wet. I didn't care that they laughed at me a little when they saw me.

"You know what," I told them. "I needed that. It felt wonderful; the best I've felt all day." One immediately called me over and gave me one of those tight hugs that falls on the favorable side of the line between sincerity and pain. "I think you needed that too," he said.

"Yeah, I did. I really did. I'm sorry."

Those five minutes have become the highlight of a day where I feel as if somebody whacked me pretty good. It's been a while since I found myself here and I'm going to choose the same thing I always do. I'm going to fight. The real challenge is figuring out what I'm up against. Unlike most times, I have no idea what it could be.

And maybe that's what writing tonight was all about. I'm still no closer, but there's time. I will win. I always do.

Captured At:2056

It's a moment far too long in the making; one I have been trying to see for weeks. And as I greet the day on my porch with a nice cold drink (homemade iced tea - yum!) resting on the arm of this chair I'm breaking in, sun warming my legs and bare feet and a post brewing in my head, I'm forced to consider the possibility that I should become an early riser. There is something about this time of day I love even though I don't see it often. From playing at bus stops to tennis practices to smiley IMs waiting on my computer I have more happy memories of the world's waking hours than I think I realize. I have also determined that when the day comes that I decide to own a home it is a requirement that it have a great porch and, if at all possible, a nice view. I suspect such a thing is far too out of reach for me right now, but some day.

The other day as I mused over an email I wasn't entirely happy to have received I realized why I have such a difficult time with people, particularly those around my own age. It dawned on me that the goal I have for my life - the major thing I hope to accomplish - is so vastly different that I simply cannot relate to the "look at me's" whose only visible objective is to raise to the highest position they can in the fastest manner possible. I know I am competitive by nature. I've felt the tug and I know how easy it would be to get sucked into that, especially when one considers facets of my old life that saw me in the spotlights.

I talked with one of my cousins at the wedding last weekend and he mentioned that luck has nothing to do where I am right now. He doesn't believe I'm a slacker because I went after the opportunities I was given, but to me that implies far more planning and calculation than I ever put into things. It makes it sound like I was working for me when, in reality, it was always about something bigger than myself. The group, the sense of responsibility, the people counting on me - that's what I focused on. It was never about what I could get out of it.

At the launch on Friday I mentioned to one of my coworkers that while getting a job as a result of my dedication speaking appearance makes a great story it wasn't the most important part of that experience. What made the difference was when family members of our fallen astronauts made the effort to come up to me after and say "thank you" and that I had really helped them that afternoon. That being on our campus presented them with a memorial unlike any of the others they had been to and had given them hope. Those are the things that make an impression. I think about those people every time we launch, every time we land, and many of the days in between. I pray for them, and I pray that, from technical to management, our teams remember that what we do is about something bigger.

When it comes time to retire or move on I don't want to leave NASA with an impressive resume. Granted that may come along the way if others are correct, but it's not what drives me day to day. I want to leave knowing that I gave my best and made a real contribution while I was there. That my work made a positive difference in our missions and my presence made a positive difference to the people around me. The few bad days I have there are when I feel like I've fallen short of one of those goals somehow. I know I won't get every one of them right, but I'm still trying.

I really didn't know how to explain that to him. I look at it and I know many would hear them as flashy words chosen because they sound good. I also know that most who would believe that either a) don't know me well enough to understand my sincerity or b) choose their words for that reason. I don't worry about the world much anyway, but it certainly is difficult to live in sometimes. I miss feeling like I have somebody around who really gets it.

My brother-in-law's godmother told me at their wedding that she loves what a free spirit I am. She thinks it's wonderful and told me not to change. At the reception I got a similar message from my father. The DJ was playing Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are" and he said something along the lines of me having no idea how terrific he thinks I am; how many times he sees me across a room and smiles even though I don't notice. He thinks I'm a great kid and he's proud of me. He hopes I never change.

Some people go their entire lives craving words like that from their dad and never hear them. I guess there's a reason I don't want for much in this world - I have been given vastly more than some can dream of. Every day I can hold onto that is a good one.

We all hit bumps on the road - God knows I do - but I think what's most important is the end state. Some would say there is no end state; that we're constantly in transition one way or another. I suppose that's true, but I'm looking at the end state as life after a particular bump and how it helps us get over the ones that come later on.

I was at my sister's apartment the other day to drop some wedding things off. It was the first time I had been alone in that place since I lived there and it knocked me over almost as if going through their front door had taken me back in time. Signs of today were everywhere, and may have been the only things that saved me. Presents were piled up on their living room table and a framed 11x17 print of their engagement picture in a lovely sepia tone leaned against the corner of their couch. Around it were well wishes written by a number of last weekend's guests. Not only are they a couple in and built on love, but they are a couple very much loved. Over 100 people attended that wedding, most traveling hundreds of miles to celebrate with them. If that alone doesn't speak volumes about what a wonderful union we know this is, I don't know what will.

My sister and brother-in-law have been building their life together for a long time. It's a huge contrast to where I am and one that would throw some older siblings seriously off balance. Fortunately I have been given the understanding that life carries each of us on a different course to where we need to be. I don't see my life as lacking when I look at it from my seat this morning. I see it as one of great promise, great memories, great hope, and great dreams. When all of this comes together I am carried off to a sense I couldn't describe on my best day. I think you have to be there to understand it, or have tapped into such a large part of me that it tugs in such a way to give a little taste of what nourishes me at all of the right times.

I had joked to a few people that I was going to spend this weekend wallowing in my old age, what with my sister married off, my brother adorably happy with his girlfriend, three years since graduation gone by and what not, but I don't think I could be farther from that today.

If I move nowhere else for the rest of the day, do nothing but sit on this porch in my pajamas, I will consider it one of the fullest spans of sunlight I have had this year. I don't think I could ask for a better gift today than that.

Captured At:1026

Twelve Hours Later

When I said my plans for the evening included a trip to Marble Slab I was immediately called a traitor by a friend who is a former Cold Stone employee. A walk by the beach sounded nice, but ultimately I decided that I would rather bring the day to an end in the same way I began it: sitting peacefully on my porch collecting my thoughts.

The world feels a lot like home tonight, and by home I mean the one 1200 miles away. I remember those summer evenings in New York sitting on the porch as the day slipped from hot blue to gentle black. I'm riding my bike up the driveway at the last minute or shooting baskets until it's too dark to see the ball. We're chasing fireflies, getting ready for a night swim, or begging our parents to let us have a sleepover. I hear the thunderstorms and see the candlelight.

There should be about two weeks of school left for the kids up there now. My birthday always seemed to fall 1-2 days before final exams began yet I don't think I ever spent it studying. I can smell coffee percolating for the family gathered to watch me blow out another set of candles and I see our dining room full of people.

These are all simple things, and they remain the ones I miss the most. And though it makes me nostalgic and a bit sad, how thankful I am that I have such things to long for!

Last week as my family celebrated its expansion I was also reminded that subtraction is part of life too. They don't look the way I see them in my memories and my dreams. I continually fail to understand how they have aged so much when I see no changes in myself.

This afternoon as I walked the beach "100 Years" came through my headphones. I suddenly developed a mental image from the perspective of one on the ocean watching my profile navigate the hills being teased by the incoming tide. I began as a little girl running with a shovel and pail. With every few steps I grew older and my pace and posture changed. Most times I walked alone though sometimes, for a few brief moments, there was somebody at my side. The people and scenery behind me changed, the tides cycled, and still I walked. As the song reached its final verse I returned to my present appearance and the perspective changed to one from behind me. Just ahead stood a figure watching me walk toward them as if they had been waiting for me the entire time. I stopped in front of them, we embraced, and the notes faded away.

It was a very vivid scene, clear and striking enough to be a memory. I get these often when I go out by myself and have come to see them as the dream world I live in while everybody else thinks I'm moving solely through this one. They say it's not possible to be in two places at once, but I disagree. There are so many beautiful scenes I wish I could translate and share even though I have no idea where they come from.

The sky is deep lavender now and the sprinklers have begun their evening serenade. I'm breathing laundry scents as my quilt makes its final tumbles inside the dryer and once again I'm home - this time 600 miles away, or even 15. And for everything I've said, I'm still completely at peace. Dreaming the improbable to be sure, but content to do so. I don't think I would be me if I stopped.

Captured At:2115

The time had come, so Beckers went...

I wonder if there is ever a point in time when getting out of class ahead of schedule ceases to be satisfying. How well I survived my astrodynamics midterm remains to be seen, but that was the furthest thing from my mind as I absorbed the rays drenching the grass with light gold. Suddenly I missed having offices to crash or friends to call with that excited octave I reach at my peaks.

There's a whole life existing within my head which, somehow, lacks even a sliver of resemblance to reality. The past few days I have felt a desire for change tugging at me in unusual ways. It isn't with the sense of "Okay, I'm ready for this to be over, let's move on..." that generally characterizes these moments. Something within me - in all likelihood incorrectly - feels that something major is coming. Perhaps it's simply wishful thinking on my part. Anything I could imagine feels grossly shallow or beyond improbable, but I can't shake it.

I have been taking a serious look at myself over the past few days and whether I feel I'm coming across as the person I want to. I cannot say with any certainty that I am succeeding. It is becoming apparent that I not only dislike people in the general sense, but I look down on them as well. I know their lives are not mine to judge, and I think doing so is based more out of frustration than anything else. I want to be able to relate. I want to connect in a meaningful way. Problem is, I feel like such a thing is bordering impossible.

Perhaps I have come to view people the way I fear they view me - as everything I know I do not want to be. I look around me wherever I am and all I can think is "I'm not like them. Maybe I should be, but I'm not." I alienate myself with that attitude. It is my own fault I feel tolerated instead of desired, but the fact remains that if I ever come to mind I am the afterthought, not the reason for the bow around the finger.

I turned 26 on Sunday. Very shortly I'm not going to be able to call myself a kid anymore. Some would say that should have stopped years ago. But what does "Bec the adult" look like? I'm still going down the hall at work humming to myself as I walk the lines made by the floor tiles with an overwhelming desire to spin around or do cartwheels. She's all I have, all I know, and I don't know how I'm supposed to turn my back on that.

Maybe that's really what I'm seeing tonight. Maybe I have come to the realization that the next part of my life - the one I have been trying to ignore for as long as I can remember - is about to knock the door down. To change will be hard. To not change potentially puts my entire future at risk. And maybe it won't be as difficult as I make it out to be. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and the right perspective, the right frame of mind, the right shade of "me" will have brushed over me in my sleep with the wind through the bedroom screen.

One thing I do know: the sky is getting dark on this porch and the battery on this laptop is getting low. I want to stay where I am. I want to hang on to this moment and this series of thoughts and the string of visions and memories I'm saying nothing about, but it cannot be. I end it on my own slowly and gently, or it cuts off with disappointing abruptness. In this case I choose the first. Perhaps in the larger sense that's what I need to do as well but I suspect that, like here, I'll still be hanging on until the last moment possible.

It doesn't matter how strongly we believe something or how tightly we cling to the hope it is correct. The truth always overtakes all in the end. And for my little laptop tonight, this is it.

Captured At:2023

Can't Help but Wonder if All This is Real...

Everywhere I have driven today it seems all I can feel is the accident. A sound I cannot describe echoes somewhere in my head as the SUV swerves off the road and the shaken pole ignites into a shower of sparks upon impact. I see the silhouette of bodies, one dragging the other away from the wreck, and I think of how I knew the moment before the vehicle had come zipping through the intersection that something was not as it should be. If I had chosen to exit right like I normally do I may not have seen anything save for a quick flash reflected in my rearview mirror. Amazing how a choice that seems so insignificant can affect one so strongly.

Somewhere in the phantom visions I did catch the moon tonight: a dim grey orb with the thinnest sliver of white light I think I have ever seen. I bet it's stunning when it sets.

It's a strange night. After the movie I opted not to join the group at one of their homes. Something told me it was not the place to be. I considered the beach but even that didn't feel right. So here I am, typing by candlelight on my porch as the youth of the evening slips away.

The only moral I could gather from the story was that sometimes strange works. That what most would discard and frown upon can have real goodness to it if one is receptive to their beliefs being changed. And also, perhaps, that ultimately there isn't any denying what you know to exist inside of you. Nobody else has to understand.

Many kids have an imaginary friend somewhere along the way as they grow up. Thinking back on the circumstances in my imaginary world during those years I realize that the beings I played with there reinforced what I felt and desired to be true. I wanted to be everything they indicated I was, and I hoped those in the world outside of my imagination would one day imply the same.

Though some might mock me for this, I still have imaginary friends today. The collection has changed in form since my childhood but their purpose remains the same. They paint the picture of the world as I want it to be; as I want to believe it is or could become. And, like my earlier years, I keep hoping the two universes will merge.

As I raise my favorite blue glass for another sip of iced tea I see a car pull in front of the apartment. The lights are on and the engine is running when the driver gets out. By the time he walks around the vehicle to look up at me I'm out of the chair leaning on the railing. I don't know who will be the first to speak.

Headlights twist every possible path around the island in the parking lot. None of the vehicles stop, none of the passengers notice the silent figure dreaming in solitude above them.

What is it that shows us for what we really are? Something far more magical than moonlight I think. Maybe next time I will know how to hold onto it. Maybe by then I will have learned how to create an opening in my loosely clasped hands that will let me verify its presence without giving it room to slip away.

Tonight I feel the world as it really is. Beautiful, gentle, mysterious. "You don't have to catch me," it says. "I'm right here, just like I always am. All you need to do is stop and reach out." I close my eyes, breathe slowly, and feel the softness of the wind as my worlds collide. It's almost too much. It's almost too much and it seems strange. It seems strange, but sometimes strange works. Yes. Sometimes strange works...

Captured At:2232

Pressing Pause

As Friday fades into memory I find myself indulging once again in what has become one of my favorite evening activities: relaxing on my porch as the night settles in. It seemed all too appropriate that the longest actual day of the year fell in the middle of what has felt to me like the longest week of the year. For days I have been looking forward to the weekend with grand plans to do nothing more than relax so I can enjoy as much of my jump west as possible.

Unfortunately that isn't to be, and I have nobody to blame for this one but myself. I thank God for the email that came through this afternoon as a reminder that proposal evaluations are due on Monday. I cannot even attribute this task's falling off the radar to a busy schedule; several days over the past few weeks I was bored and complaining of having nothing to do. Ironic I guess. So, now that I've screwed up, I have to fix it. Off to the Cape I go again tomorrow. I think I'm going to break 50 hours this week.

But I don't think that's why I'm tired. Reading, reviewing, editing and writing are tasks I become lost in, not ones that usually suck the life out of me. The sensation I have now is more like being weary from battle; a level of conflict laces what most would consider the artifacts of exertion.

And then I see the beach. I see the couple leaning against the railing and each other as I stood at the top of the split stairs and damply looked at stars, waves, sand and sky. I remember the nights after the office and wondering why suddenly it felt so hard again. I recall how the headache seemed to relocate itself each day, none of which passed without aspirin.

Suddenly it all makes sense. The things today had me fearing no longer concern me. Perhaps the new revelation should, but I only get so many hours to relax right now. The garbage can wait. The laundry can stay in the dryer one more day. The homework isn't urgent and the packing shouldn't even be a consideration yet. This is my night to enjoy - perhaps the only one for a few days. So that's it. No more thinking until tomorrow. I think I can live with that.

Captured At:2138

I'm giving myself half an hour tonight. I had hoped for more time, but that hasn't been the most abundant resource for me lately. Of everything we're given in this world that's the one thing we cannot replenish. Lost time is just that - lost. You can't make more, earn more, grow more, or buy more. You would think the knowledge of how precious time is would affect me more than it does today, but that isn't so. I don't feel it quite the way I used to and I'm almost uncomfortable with that.

This weekend came with a very long list of things to do. Things I had to do, things I wanted to do, things I should do. Not everything was crossed off, but I think that as the world changed I prioritized the correct way. I consider it a successful pair of days even if I don't feel I got much rest at all. That's why I'm limited to half an hour tonight; I am determined to get a good night's sleep so I can tackle tomorrow with a ferocity it will not expect.

There's a little clay lion sitting in front of my "monitor with benefits" at work. He was pointed out to me by a coworker after I commented on the cat sitting on top of his display. Another coworker's daughter made them; he said he told her a little about some of the people at the office and she decided what to make for them based on that. I think she was on a feline kick; most of us got one of some sort.

So I'm a lion. But not just a lion, he pointed out, a happy lion. I guess the idea is that I'm pleasant and friendly most of the time (hence the happy), but very capable of tearing things/people apart if the conditions fall just the wrong way. At this point I mentioned the "lion hug" video. We lions can be very loving and grateful too, really.

It's not the first time I've been compared to this particular animal, and I suppose it's fitting enough. Of course somewhere in all of it I'm flashing between scenes from "The Lion, the Witch., and the Wardrobe" and the part in "The Lion King" where Pumbaa is yelling "SHE'S GONNA EAT ME!!!!" Bizarre? Yes. Such is life inside my head.

I think I like the emphasis being on my lion's demeanor: happy. I don't think I'm all that intimidating, but I suppose it goes to show that you never really know how you're coming across to other people. There has been some of that within my project lately and it has certainly made life interesting in ways I wish it were not. I know I'm tough- and I use that word on a variety of levels because it certainly applies to more than one.

I remember a conversation with the guy who hired me before he left last year. Somewhere in there I told him I felt I was the biggest limiting factor in my life; that I had been given all I need to succeed, it was just a question of me getting in my own way. I still believe that to be the case, and I know where I'm going to have problems. I can see where I need to change in several areas for the benefit of those around me. Change is difficult though, and much of what needs the adjustment is beyond what I feel I can control. Still, I have to believe it's possible.

My half hour is just about up, but there are still a few sips of tea left in this big black mug of mine. I guess I can have a few more minutes.

I took my eyes out while the water was heating up so they could relax. They've adjusted to the glow of the laptop and the candle that I think will remain my only source of light when I finally go inside. This has been a fantastic way to finish off the day and prepare myself for sleep. If I were to establish a regular routine, this would be part of it. There's something about having a routine that feels contrary to my nature though. My motivation for most things me-related has always come as the mood struck me. Must be that whole "free spirit" thing again. I'm so glad she's part of me; I think I'd go crazy without her.

In a twist irony I have just downed my last sip of tea as Jack Johnson sings "please close your eyes woman, please get some sleep". I would prefer to sit out here and ramble into my wordpad until sky grows light and the stars disappear, but I know the right choice is to take the hint the universe is sending me and see what sort of wonderful dreams can find me tonight. I have a big week coming up and I'm going to need all of the rest I can get.

Captured At:2319

Going Lefty

The clock in the corner of my monitor says the hour almost belongs to tomorrow. It's wrong. At this very moment the muted blue sky at the top of my window is blending into a shade of yellow I have never seen adorning the heavens before. Try though I have, my camera cannot capture it. Enter the limitations of the device. It's an odd combination of buildings and mountains I can see from this bed I am reclining on, but the scene is peaceful. Somewhere in the distance the silhouette of a flag I've been watching dance around the wind has decided it's time for rest. Very shortly I will be doing the same. At 9pm. I haven't gone to bed while there was light out since I was a kid.

Today I flew Southwest for the first time. I have heard many people praise this airline, yet most everybody I encountered today told me how much they dislike it. Given the scene at the ticket counter this morning I am inclined to agree with the second group of critics. I have never seen lines at MCO like I saw weaving through the A Terminal Check-In area. Somewhere in all of it I made the choice not to stress about the situation. I wasn't the only person waiting around who wondered if they and their luggage would make their plane. I determined that I would not get pushy or jittery or let any of the expected emotions take over. I would relax and trust that it would all work out the way it needed to.

Now, that didn't stop me from asking if they had a line at security for "Yikes, my flight leaves in 20 minutes". It also didn't stop me from sprinting to the tram once I cleared the security checkpoint. And it certainly didn't stop me from going down the jetway when the woman at the gate told me they had boarded and that's where I should be. Her coworker was less than impressed I had entered a secure area even though it was on command, but oh well. I just thank God I was running early for me today. I never would have made it otherwise.

I spent the early part of the flight reading my Astrodynamics book. I dozed lightly, unable to escape the smell of the sushi being consumed by the friendly woman to my left and the scent of the half dozen beers put down by the quiet man to my right. The most prominent thought on my mind: I was on the plane and was headed west for the first time in years.

As we approached LAS the pilot pointed out that Flagstaff was to the left and the Grand Canyon was to the right. I remembered Flagstaff and playing in the desert for a day with the very people whose paper I was then reading as part of my research. I was awed by the canyon; by the colors and the obvious size and the precision in how the shapes and the layers had been cut away. I also couldn't help but wonder where the roadrunner and the coyote were.

When I finally arrived at BUR I was surprised by many things. First, the airport was much smaller than I thought. It was older than I expected, and most everything was outside - including the baggage claim. It's not the smallest or cutest airport I've ever been through, but Bob Hope certainly had its charm.

When I got outside to the baggage claim I was also surprised to find my suitcase waiting with a group of others off to the side. I had been thinking the entire trip that, given everything, it would be amazing if the bag actually made it on the plane. I couldn't believe it was sitting in front of me as if the chaos at MCO never happened.

So, here I am, tucked away safely in Pasadena, California. Being on this side of the country motivated me to bug a few people I don't usually talk with much, and I am immeasurably thankful for that opportunity. I'm excited to finally visit JPL and explore part of a new state. For whatever reason, I have entered this trip with high expectations. I still have no idea what I'm going to do with my weekend here, but somewhere inside of me I simply believe it's going to be wonderful. I can't wait to see how it all shakes out.

Captured At:2315