Like many things in life arrival at this point had happened slowly. Transition from the initial state to the present was only possible one small and comfortable step at a time. The opportunity to reverse course had long passed. What the body craved the body must receive. And so it began.

At first it felt a bit awkward. Doubt still hung loosely in the fringes of thought. What if the advice had been wrong? What if the incorrect decision had been made? These questions faded as emotion overruled logic and the motion continued. The force of each contact rippled through every inch of tissue and every joint, drowning out heartbeats with the sensation it produced. Maintaining the right rhythm became a balancing act of the mind. Too much focus and the goal would never be reached. Not enough and the attained momentum would be broken to the point of failure. The only way forward was to stay in the moment. There was only now.

The occasional shot of pain was expected. It wasn't reason to stop, just to be more careful and maybe slow down a little. Destroying the body in the very act of satisfying its desires was unnecessary. There was only a bit further to go. Knowledge the goal was approaching prompted a burst in speed. It would be reached. The only thing necessary was to hold on...just...a few...more...moments...

Triumph! The intensity of motion halted as the body arched slightly backward and reached toward the sky.

The pulse slowly returned to normal as sweat continued to drip over eyes and face and into every crevice of the figure it covered. Every so often there would be an unexpected trembling of the legs as a reminder that the body had been pushed to its limits. These little aftershocks carried with them a sense of accomplishment. They were the very indication that every expectation had been met.

Sleep promised to be rewarding and was the only logical choice to follow such an exertion. No motion necessary, no thought required. Just collapse into the safety of a gentle embrace and drift away. When rest calls, the body must answer. And so it ends.

Captured At:2234

It's All a Test...

There was hesitancy in waking up this morning driven by fear that my best effort at making laps around the park couldn't possibly compare to my run the other night. From there I could see the remainder of the day playing out such that evening would be upon me in a flash with nothing accomplished. Somehow I forced myself out of bed anyway.

Sunlight streams through the blinds while I lounge on the couch watching my broccoli and cheese omelette disappear one bite at a time. I am showered and dressed today after a run even better than my last. The washing machine has just come to a stop signaling yet another accomplishment during a stretch of hours I don't normally see. From this side of my blankets the day looks rather promising. Busy, but promising.

The paper I so confidently declared I would finish last weekend only reached 65% completion. I have openly stated that I am not allowed to read the new Harry Potter book until it is done. Funny how spoilers - which usually ruin one's interest in things like that - are what motivated my desire to read it at all.

When I got into work yesterday one of my coworkers asked about the paper before reaching over to his shelf and handing me a box. "This is your motivation," he said. I am fairly certain that every other copy of the book amazon.com sent out on pre-order was torn into immediately, but this one ended up being an extra copy in his house. Now it was mine. "I'm leaving this on my desk this weekend," I told him. "It's the only way to ensure it stays in the box until the paper is finished."

I can picture that lonely box waiting in my deserted office wondering why it can't be like the other books. I can hear it asking why it couldn't have found its way to one of the eager fans who shut themselves away until they had absorbed every page and then immediately began second and third readings. I can already picture Monday and how it will be sitting in front of my Mac looking up at me as if to hopefully inquire, "Well? You finish this time?"

Unfortunately the paper has been relegated to second priority by the conversion of my other in-class final to a take-home exam with an earlier due date. I have also openly stated that if I get all of my stuff done this weekend, life will be good. If I don't I'm not going to be a very nice person on Monday.

So when the beach called to me as I walked to my car after work last night, I ignored it. When the skies over my apartment promised the sort of calm evening I love to sit outside for, I slowly climbed the steps and went in anyway. It wasn't what I wanted, but it was the right thing to do even at an hour when I knew little work would get done.

One of the things I have discovered is that I have wavering levels of self-control and self-discipline which, like many things about me, struggle to find a middle ground. I am either strictly obedient to my boundaries or I violate them to excess. I have become very cognizant of the grey areas that will plunge me into disobedience if I don't handle them very carefully. I really do over think everything, but to a degree it's necessary if I am to succeed. Exactly what I am striving for remains a mystery, but something tells me this is a problem that must be corrected.

I think right now I am doing okay.

And if I wish to continue that trend it's time to put down the laptop and pick up that final exam. It's my last assignment in a course where I have such a tenuous grasp on the A I want that I have already resigned myself to the appearance of a B as my final grade. Driving home last night I realized it was foolish to talk of the course like it were already over. If I do this test right I can still emerge from the semester victorious. Time to set that laser focus and get calculating.

Captured At:1022

Magical Trevor Wasn't Sure He Wanted Them Either...

Among the things I don't think I could ever make anybody else understand is how much I enjoy being the last one to leave work in the evening. I love the solitude of the deserted hallways and the softness of the velvet blue-black cloak that surrounds the SSPF as I slowly approach my car. During those moments it seems I can feel the spirits of the space center walking with me. It brushes the same sense through my being that gazing into the heavens has induced my entire life. I am but a tiny speck surrounded by infinite greatness; a part of something much bigger than I will ever be able to grasp.

Today I had another one of those mostly one-sided conversations that I walk away from wondering how the unfortunate recipient has not yet written me off as crazy. Perhaps this is because any wave that causes me to speak what I haven't clearly thought through can only be an act motivated by momentary insanity. I always do a horrible job communicating anything that feels remotely relevant. For as much as I have come to genuinely love and trust the few coworkers I periodically confide in, and for as much weight as their smallest gesture indicating the same carries, there remains a barrier I cannot seem to knock down. They know me but they don't, and I can't let them. It's a sad theme running through an otherwise brilliant life.

Sometime shortly after I joined the group I was educated about "cows". "You need a cow," I was told. "And when you find a cow, you take care of it and your cow takes care of you. This....this could be a great cow..." Basically, find something to own. Make something yours and you'll be set. I had difficulty with that idea when it was presented to me and I continue to. Besides, I can't even keep an orchid. Who in their right mind would trust me with an entire cow?

And so enters part of the problem. In my mind "cow" equates to "trap". Ownership of something feels limiting and my perceived freedom is extremely important to me. That "great cow" from the conversation? I'm in the process of giving it away and feel little remorse. But if I run from every opportunity to own something, if I never show that I can take the lead and be responsible, what reason is there for anyone to entrust me with the bigger things I feel I'm going to do? Wasn't it the abilities I demonstrated in ownership of my first organizations that led others to continue promoting me to where I eventually ended up?

One of the reasons that leaving college was such a huge adjustment was that I went from being in the highest positions possible to a back corner where most people didn't even know I existed. I had to adjust to living in a world where I had no responsibility, no power and no credibility. It is extremely difficult to have to start over with a new set of rules. It is frustrating to have to prove you are competent, worthy of trust and can handle things you know without a doubt you are capable of.

I am told I have more responsibility at my age than most do. I have to take statements like this on trust because I simply fail to see it. Maybe that would be different if I had close friends my age there, but when I look at the few other kids I know of the statements don't hold much water. They own vehicle systems and manage payloads. By the very nature of their positions they are smack in the middle of what we do at the Kennedy Space Center and when something big happens they can explain exactly how they were part of it. I miss when I could do that.

At the same time I also know that where I am is much better suited to me. The strict adherence to process and the day-to-day minutia one must be concerned with in the operational environment would not challenge me appropriately. It would not provide me with the sort of big picture, high level view I like to have of the world. I need to be tearing up the ground to create a new path, not pulling up the weeds to keep the current one pretty. I need to know where the dead ends are because I discovered them, not because somebody said "Don't go that way".

I consider my real job to be "playing shadow" for somebody who has given me no reason to believe they consider me anything less than an equal. Describing the role as I have can easily carry a negative connotation, but it is one that has worked out very well - perhaps too well to some. There are numerous advantages to an arrangement such as this. It provides me with experiences and exposure that I know I would not have otherwise, and it allows my education to take place in relative safety under the watchful eye of somebody I respect, trust and generally enjoy being around who also happens to think well of me.

It would be easy to get comfortable there, and for the most part I am. But I also recognize that at some point the attachment must be severed. I cannot remain dependent on somebody else for regular direction. I'm not sure I believe the time for separation is now.

One of the other things I have never known how to explain is what I remember of every historical space show and movie I saw. While I say I never imagined I would be part of the space program - which is true - subconsciously I think I always knew that's where I was headed. I would watch the scenes where a team of engineers was hard at work on solving the latest big problem or I'd look at the people in the meeting rooms determining the course of lunar expeditions and I'd think, "Wow. It has to be amazing to work on something like that and to look back and know you made that possible."

It still astonishes me to realize how close I am to being there myself. That's what struck me as I sat in on that meeting in Houston a month ago and motivated me to send the email I did. Listening to those guys going back and forth was just like watching one of those movies, only I was in it this time. I have no knowledge of any use, no understanding of what any of it takes, no idea where to even begin planning something like that, but that's the sort of world I want to be part of. When they make the movies about our return to the moon or our first venture to Mars I want one of the characters in that room to be me. I don't care if she's center stage or barely on screen "Engineer 99" in a room of 100 taking up space to make the scene look realistic. I just want her there.

The new mission, the new challenges, the inside track to the hows and whys...that's what I want a piece of. I guess you could say it's not the cow I'm after. I want the field he and his cow buddies get to play in. And tonight I don't care how that might make me sound.

When it comes down to it, my biggest problem is that I genuinely believe I could do really good things where I am. I believe that somewhere in me I have a great contribution to make - maybe to the program, hopefully to the people. For once I see so much promise in what lies ahead that it makes me severely impatient. I just want to get on with it already and be where I'm supposed to end up. But I don't want to miss out because I jumped before it was time or I was really ready.

This is when I become most thankful that I have somebody else looking out for me who understands the world better than I do. I can't push all of my decisions off on him, but I can trust that the ones being made for me are done with the intent to help.

Even the day he finally decides to have me committed...

Captured At:1123

Strangers in the Night

Shadowy figures slowly working their way up the pavilion or across the sand always give me pause during my solitary visits to the beach. As I track the silhouettes I can hear any number of voices telling me how unsafe this particular pastime is. I have always recognized the risk, but I refuse to give it up. Years of indulging in this love of mine has shown me there is a natural understanding between regular late-night beach goers. In all things you respect their space and, by extension, whatever has moved these other blips of humanity to make their appearance at the same quiet shoreline. Let them have their moments under the stars and they'll let you have yours.

I began composing my last missive from a perch I had not relaxed upon in months. Shortly after I relocated my laptop and I to a picnic table a man walked a bicycle up the ramp and sat one table over. The usual pause was longer and slightly more intense as only one thought drown out the music dancing through my headphones. I knew this one was going to talk to me.

"Let me ask you a question," he finally said after about a minute. "Did you go to school?"
"What do you mean by school?"
"College. Did you go to college?"
"Yes, I did." I had no idea where this was going, but it seemed a harmless inquiry.
"You think you got a better job because of it?"
"I...I don't know how to answer that. I'm not sure what kind of job I would have now if I hadn't."

Over the next twenty minutes or so I learned that my new buddy, Mike, was a builder with a very simple life. Several hours laboring under the sun each day, several more surfing or by the beach and, I suspect, a few more throwing back whatever intoxicant mingled its scent with that of a hard day's work as he came over and sat next to me. He told me he could build houses and pools from the ground up, but he wouldn't even know how to turn on a computer. He was sure I was smart the instant he saw mine sitting there on the table. I explained to him that there wasn't much to it and that all I was really doing was writing. "I'm very introspective," I said. "I do that".

"What does that mean? Introspective."

The question caught me so off guard that I floundered quite a bit in my explanation. Technical jargon aside, I had never before used a word in conversation which I believed to be commonly understood only to discover that the recipient had no idea what it meant. I had used a "big" word. I was smart.

And so the conversation went. I could use a computer? Smart. I went to college? Smart. I knew big words? Smart. I worked at KSC? Smart. I was in school again? Smart.

I am far from being the world's next great genius, but when it comes to general intelligence I believe I was blessed with a very generous package. I am extremely quick and have often been dubbed by others as sharp or bright. I am perceptive with a solid intuition and an abundance of common sense. I am logical and creative. I am a realist. I can understand relationships in multiple dimensions and have little trouble connecting the dots. Areas where there are gaps in my knowledge are due entirely to lack of interest or motivation, not lack of ability. Experience shows I have a tremendous capacity to learn.

But I have never considered myself smart. Never.

Many times last semester I would look at my astrodynamics book and think, "This is smart people stuff. What am I doing with it?" I spent the entire time frustrated and tired of being the dumb kid. But one of the other things college taught me is that the subject one studies has nothing to do with their intelligence. Being a rocket scientist or an astrophysicist doesn't make you smart either. In fact, I've known some that I would say are fairly foolish when it comes right down to it.

Sure he may not have gone to college, but Mike knows his trade and everything surrounding it. He can do math in his head faster than I can. He hadn't been afraid to ask questions or tell me what he didn't know as we conversed under a beach pavilion he had actually built. He also imparted wisdom about sea turtles and their connection to the hurricane cycles that I never would have given consideration to. It may be simple and he may have some subconscious doubts about what he has done with it, but he seems to enjoy the life he has. Doesn't that, in its own way, make him smart too?

What does this word we so often use really mean anyway?

Once again I see that my definition doesn't line up with the accepted one. I don't believe that intelligence equates to being smart. To me, smart is more about the decisions we make, how we use what has been given to us and how we look at the world than it is about IQ or the level of education we have attained.

Being able to sit down and ponder my way through all of this suggests that I am intelligent. The fact that the entire activity was motivated by conversing alone with an intoxicated male stranger at a beach after dark suggests I am probably not very smart. Given how much I took away from the experience beyond what I have jotted down here, I think that is a distinction I can live with.

Captured At:1218

Four years ago the theme for Freshman Orientation was "Changes, Choices, Challenges". I had forgotten that until today. Such a minor detail seemed inconsequential before pulling the old t-shirt from the top of the pile in the drawer, but suddenly it became significant on several levels.

Fall of 2003 was the last time I would serve as an orientation counselor, only I wouldn't get to participate completely. The university had shipped me off to a conference in Orlando - the same conference I spoke at today - while all of my friends returned and began training without me. I spent the entire week wishing to be back where I was comfortable and didn't feel completely alone. Then I returned to campus and discovered I felt just as out of place by showing up four days late to join everybody. I told my friends about the stuff we had done, the silly tests they had made us take, and that according to my results I was an introvert. None of them believed me.

Sometimes I wonder if any of them actually had any idea who I really was behind the role I had to play.

That year would turn out to be a defining one in my life; a year that undoubtedly determined everything I have and lack right now. It doesn't feel like four years ago. If I close my eyes I can step back into it as if I never left.

Sometimes I forget how ready I was to go by the end. I had spent months absorbing signs that it was the right time for my departure and that there was nothing more I could achieve as an undergrad at that university. Leaving so much of myself behind was difficult, but it was time to let the next group of kids have their reign. My future, uncertain as it was, lay nowhere but forward.

I was reminded of that again as I walked the familiar grounds of Florida Tech late this afternoon. That and so much more that I cannot even begin to vocalize. Somehow, in mere moments, a number of the dots magically connected.

This morning one of the girls in the group asked what we feel the biggest arguments are for why we should explore space. Not an uncommon question, nor were the suggestions she offered. I forget exactly what I told her, but part of it was something along the lines of this:

When you push yourself to do something like that - something that's barely possible - you learn. You grow. You find answers to problems you may not have realized you needed an answer to. You can apply what you discover to other areas with problems that were not solvable before. If you're willing to push yourself, if you're willing to rise to that challenge, you will get more out of it than you put in, even if what you walk away with is knowledge of what to never do again.

I told one of the people I talked to on campus today that I don't believe my intelligence has decreased since I left. Unfortunately I proved that incorrect with the actual wording of the statement. "I haven't gotten stupider since I graduated" is not the most eloquent way to get the point across. Nice job, Bec. What's worse, the response I received ran circles around me in a way I was completely unequipped to handle. I flat out couldn't keep up with the train of logic that was thrown at me. It was a very defeating feeling; I'm usually well ahead of the pack or at least keeping pace.

What that told me more than anything else is that I haven't been challenged in one of the ways I love most in a very long time. I am now worried that I am stagnating because of it; that not being pushed is confining what was once a very observant and active mind on another plane. I am not learning. I am not growing. While that is not entirely true, it is accurate to say that I have not had a good challenge or a worthy intellectual opponent in years. I don't have anybody around who gets it or gets me. I interact with some wonderful people every day, but conversation never gets to the level I enjoy most. I get told I think too much. I get told I'm making people's brains hurt. It makes me feel bad. It makes me feel outcast somehow. It makes me feel like I should just keep my mouth shut, and I'm starting to.

And as I sat on the beach last night satisfying my craving to feel some sand between my toes that's what caused the tears that blurred my view of the horizon. In that moment I understood exactly why the past few days had been so difficult. Despite every effort to be seen, I was invisible. I'm starting to give up. I know there have to be others out there like me, but knowing me I understand why we never seem to find each other. We're all sitting somewhere alone pondering the same questions with nobody to bounce the philosophical musings off of and spur us on to further thought.

I think that's why resuming classes has been good for me. At least I'm learning something new and, if I'm lucky, I get a professor I can play with a bit even if I know I am running circles around him. I hate feeling like my brain is going to waste. I hate feeling like I'm going to waste - which I have been.

And that's probably also why running has been good for me. It's a challenge. I'm pushing my body in ways I think it should be able to handle but have never really believed it could. It reminds me that sometimes the strength to continue moving when stretched isn't mine. It forces me to accept that making the distance goal sometimes means I can't go as fast as I want. Teaching myself to run is very much a reflection of my life right now. It's an exercise; something I'm doing without knowing how what I learn from the experience is going to help me later. I just know I have to keep going.

Tonight as I drove home I knew I would do the run I skipped last night. The instant sound came through my headphones I knew that this time I would finally run two full continuous laps around the park. I would finally meet a goal I set when I began this nearly a month ago and such a thing seemed impossible.

And I did. Thank you, Lord. Finally I made it. Insert random happy dance in my living room here.

The thin crescent in the western sky as I walked home tied it all together much like the t-shirt had before I began. That sliver of moon was my past, present and future. It symbolized the personal triumphs and struggles I have turned to it with over the course of my life. It reminded me of the good I had found in today and how important it was to hold onto that tiny piece of magic and the joy of what I had just accomplished. It called out to me as the object my job has me seeking to conquer for the mission my coworker and I talked to the group about today. They're not the right challenges to satisfy me for long, but they are worthwhile endeavours. Until my world changes I think they will have to do.

Captured At:2342

Make Every Day Worth All of the Pain that I've Gone Through...

Heaven only knows what to expect when I arrive at work today. Perhaps that's why I have chosen to write a bit instead of going out the door as my sneakers and knapsack would suggest I am about to do.

I figure I must have walked in yesterday looking like somebody had died. That, or the headphones wedged into my ears as I wandered the hallways ignoring my coworkers gave me away. Every day I work hard to be sociable and positive with the hope of adding a little light and color to the place. Unfortunately people come to expect what you do consistently. When I'm not floating six inches off the ground everybody knows it.

Yesterday was the culmination of what had been a mentally and emotionally taxing five or six days at minimum. A couple coworkers wanted to know if I was okay. I lied and they knew it, but what could I have possibly said? How do you explain that not being able to talk is part of the problem? There is no more defeating feeling in the world than believing you have just spilled your soul to somebody who simply does not get it.

As they all ate lunch I walked around the trail in front of my building, sat down a bit to think and just let myself go. Being real hurts, even if it's only with yourself. I was better for it by the time I went back inside, but there was nothing in that cubicle for me. I juggled a bit and decided that if they didn't have any work to give me, I was leaving. I simply refused to stay cooped up sitting on my butt. It may be the only decision I made yesterday that got anywhere near who I used to be.

I spent an hour and a half of my newfound freedom on the beach. I walked south instead of the usual north, and when I decided to stop for a few minutes I took out the headphones for probably the first time all day. I closed my eyes to wake up my other senses. I could hear the ebbing tide with renewed clarity and feel every alteration of cool breeze and warm sunlight against my back. I tried very hard to stay in that moment; it was all I had.

Before I went home I spent some time standing slightly within reach of the ocean with my eyes fixed upon the horizon line. The contrast of blues between water and sky was amazing. Around me the already meager Thursday beach crowd had disappeared and I was given a few moments truly alone. Just me, the music, and the waves gently washing over my ankles.

I am told that the years I feel are going too fast will only accelerate with time. I am told my whole life will go and be done just like that. I was gently nudged to make the most of it so I don't wake up in twenty years time and wonder what happened. I used to be much better at that. Still, I'm trying. I'm not sure I got close enough yesterday, but maybe it is as good of a place to start as any.

Captured At: 804

Was Blind, but Now I See...

For as severe a Peter Pan complex as I am afflicted with, part of me has always derived a small dose of satisfaction from simple moments that make me feel "grown up". While I waited for my muffin and coffee this morning I was struck with the same feeling I had at 16 when stopping to grab food on my way to work was a new luxury. Travel evokes the same emotions and is probably one of the elements I enjoy most about it. Experiencing the world beyond my home is one of the few things I have wanted to do since I was a child.

As I sit on my porch sipping coffee this morning I am flashing back to the little tables I occupied at cafés in Pasadena; sometimes writing, sometimes watching the world slowly wake up until the sidewalks were busy with people oblivious they were under inspection. I recognized it immediately as a lifestyle I could get used to. I suppose I still make my moments when I can.

My one goal for yesterday - watching the sunset from my favorite spot Cape Side - went unmet. The chain blocking off the parking lot and the "Hazardous Control Area" sign flapping on it cared little for my plans. Rebellious as I am at times, I never cross the ropes there. One should always exercise caution where large explosives may be involved. I value my life far beyond anything I could see on the other side of the security line.

A misplaced rumble of thunder has just lazed its way through the eastern sky. The sun, which moments ago was dousing my legs and face in a warm yellow glow, is fighting the line of clouds with mixed success. The world alternates between pleasantly warm and slightly cold leaving me little hint as to which will win. Knowing the great light is there and actually feeling his embrace are two very different things.

We began our day together, the sun and I. For three years I have been driving past this one little park on my way to work telling myself "one day I will stop" or "I bet I could get some great pictures of the sunrise and the sailboats there". This morning I finally pulled in to soak up a new view. It felt wonderful; so much so that if I do nothing else with this year's August 18th I will still feel that I used it well.

The clouds slowly continue to build and I can envision myself sitting on this porch all afternoon waiting until the downpour comes. I am watching the puddles fill when the wind suddenly shifts and blows my empty coffee cup off the arm of the chair. The intrusion of the drops forces me inside where I now lay on the carpet, mind lost in the lazily rotating ceiling fan and rain sounds trickling in through the screen door. The universe and I are somehow at peace as I drift off into an unplanned series of beautiful dreams. When I open my eyes again hours have passed. The world is cool, softly lit and slightly damp as if waking from a slumber itself.

It is a scene drawn from my imagination that is more wonderful than the description captures. I am smiling gently to myself in the calm as I remember what it is to be in love without cause and how those eyes - my eyes - see the world. The scales covering them cracked as the first sliver of orange-pink crept over the skyline on the opposite side of the river and barely made a splash when they slipped from my face into the golden highlights dancing upon its peaks. Being pierced by the rays has left me tender in spots but, recognizing that the entire spectrum of emotion is required for a full existence, I accept it as proof that I am alive. This morning it seems a gift too precious for words.

Captured At: 815

Oh Take Me Back to the Start...

Looking around my apartment yesterday afternoon I couldn't help but think of my earliest days in the place. A random rearrangement of furniture dramatically opened up the living area, and as I stood in the hallway gazing toward the center of the room I remembered when the only furnishing was a pair of beanbag chairs, an old TV displaying my PlayStation's latest round of Tetris, and my laptop. Hurricane Charley would make landfall that night. I remember how amazing it was driving down US-1 watching the storm come over the river and how easily the words came when I returned to the safety of my sister's apartment...

I drove all the way home with the window down. I know that's sort of silly, but there was something about the wind driving rain into my car that made me feel more alive with each drop that hit me. The trees appeared to be playing too...Nature is amazing! When I got home I found them standing outside next to the stairs and I made the same "nature is amazing" remark with a huge smile on my face. The only response I got was my sister saying she couldn't believe I went out to meet the cable guy in this kind of weather. Honestly, I'm glad I didn't hide indoors from it the whole time. Depending on what it's like outside later, maybe I'll go dance in the rain. If the storm is going to take me it can take me playing."

A desire to cut back on the superfluous clutter around my apartment triggered the unexpected rearrangement. I have much further to go, but I am forcing myself to do something that is generally very difficult for me: get rid of stuff. It always feels as if I'm turning my back on the only pieces of people, places and things that I have left. I hate to abandon anything, but there is little sense keeping around what serves no real purpose...

My flip flops rested out of the tide's reach while I slowly moved toward the water's edge. One by one I removed shells from the bag I had carried with me on the northward trek to a stretch of sand I never quite reached. I watched every one from the moment it departed my hand until the tiny splash signaling a successful return to its briney home. I was amazed how some of the thinner ones seemed to float on the sea breeze and skip across the waves before being submerged.

It's only at the last shell that I stopped. Something about how the pale brown nautilus tangled and twisted around itself pulled me in and, though I had tossed several back to the ocean, I could not bring myself to part with this one. I don't know why, but he was special. He had to come home with me.

Anyone who saw me on that beach must have thought I was crazy. Most people take shells from the beach, not bring them there. I never seem to do things the normal way. Such was the case this afternoon as, once again, I sought to return something to where it belonged.

I didn't see the security guard pull in after me. He was pleasant enough, but seemed certain I was up to something as he inquired why I had parked in that particular location. I explained that I wanted to return the rocks in the bag I had just raised to window level. Had he not seen me pull in behind him he would have thought they were stolen and then I could have really been in trouble.

"No, I didn't steal them. Somebody gave me this bag of rocks from the crawlerway and I just wanted to put them back where they belong. I know it seems strange, but it's the God's honest truth." Under his watchful eye I walked onto the track, undid the knot and turned the bag upside down. I wondered what the giver would have said if they could see me dropping the rocks upon the ground. Such an act would surely be considered rejection of the gift. But I had no use for them and, like so many other things back in the apartment, they too had to go. When I turned around to walk back to my car the security guard told me he felt like we should have had a ceremony or something. I looked toward the track one more time. "Enjoy your time on the crawlerway. Be free, little rocks." He laughed.

Oddly enough, that was my moment of joy for the day. I returned the rocks, got busted in the process, and could do nothing but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Only I would get caught doing something like that...

It's a strange sort of rewind my life has been on for the past week or so. As I looped through a section of the park backwards in the dusk I watched the world moving away from me with each footstep. I could see ghosts of my campus on any number of tours. I remembered looking out the back window of cars as a child and how that view captivated me. I still don't know why I was so taken with the world at that angle. Perhaps one day I will understand.

There are a number of circles running through my head right now. I'm seeing the scenery change in loops and cycles as everything slips away before falling into place again. It's a poor description, but that's what it feels like. At this hour I am completely unequipped to tackle it any further. Fact is, the world is moving forward. I can keep walking backward, can keep looking backward, can keep trying to put things in their proper place of origin, but none of these things change what is.

So, it would appear that once again I am engaged in an exercise to push myself; to change my lifestyle and my perspective. These things are not easy, but today they feel a necessity. Perhaps in a year's time I will feel the same joy at having accomplished the impossible feat of keeping my eyes focused on the present as I do now at having accomplished the seemingly impossible task of completing those laps around the park. Wouldn't that be something?

Captured At:2328

Losing My Religion

A smile came to my lips as I stood in the produce section of Publix. I had stopped for an apple and a box of fudgesicles on my way to work completely unsuspecting the memory that would awaken as I surveyed the fruit stands. "She was ready to kill me," I thought to myself. "So much for creativity and thinking out of the box..."

It was the summer of 1998. My sister and I were participating in a Catholic youth conference with two of her friends and several from their other circles. Given the disaster my confirmation had been months before I have no idea what motivated me to join such an expedition, yet there I sat watching the world pass by as our pair of vans made their way from a quiet New York town to the woods of Massachusetts. The drive would take hours.

Shortly into the trip somebody decided that playing "20 Questions" was a good use of the time stretching endlessly before us. One by one we took our turns as inquisitor until the puzzle was solved, each victor becoming the next secret keeper. Finally it was my turn. Perhaps it was just me being a little mean and extremely unenthusiastic about our destination, but I picked something I knew they would never guess. I wanted them to really have to work for it.

And work they did. They twisted their frustrated little brains to absolutely no avail. The tension in the vehicle escalated with every unsuccessful query.

"It's not animal, mineral or vegetable? How is that possible? What else is there?"
"The only yes we got was that it's smaller than a breadbox. That's not very helpful."
"What do you mean you don't think it serves any purpose? It has to do something!"
"You didn't pick anything, did you?"

They were exasperated by the time the final question was asked and the final answer failed to provide insight. "You want to know what it was," I asked matter-of-factly.

"YES!"

"Peach fuzz."

I was beaming as I said it, obviously very pleased with myself for having conjured up such a unique subject. To say the remainder of the party was less than thrilled with me is an understatement and the chaperon driving our vehicle was livid. Her agitated protests about how peach fuzz wasn't a real object led me to believe she might make good on the threats to pound me when we finally got out of the car. We hadn't been sociable prior to the trip, but I know I avoided her whenever possible after.

As the scene in the car played through my head I knew I couldn't leave the grocery store without one of those fuzzy orbs in my hand. It was more for the memory than anything else; I didn't actually want one as part of my snack.

When I left work that peach was the only food left in my knapsack. My stomach rumbled lightly as I navigated SR-3 and produced it from the front pocket. Again I thought of Steubenville, but this time the memory wasn't as light as it had been in Publix earlier that morning. I recalled what that experience had actually been for me; just how terrible a weekend it turned out to be.

Even now I can picture the rows of sleeping bags stretching down the large tent that would be our accommodations. I had never been camping and was now thrust into experiencing it with several hundred girls I would never actually meet. The entire arrangement felt awkward. I slept terribly the entire trip and, as has been known to happen when I'm uncomfortable with my surroundings, I don't think I showered at all that weekend.

The nature of the event only further isolated me. I felt like the sole heretic among a nation of worshipers. I thought the chants some of the packs of kids would do as they walked past were cheesy beyond words, but the others in my group seemed to jump right in. Everyone else appeared on this great high of songs and laughter as they embraced the experience. Meanwhile I was once again engulfed in a personal hell I couldn't tell another soul about.

One afternoon I couldn't take it anymore. The entire conference delegation was in the worship tent singing to the heavens when I slid out of my row and exited the area. I could still hear the music from the place where I had sat down, but their words escaped me. My eyes alternated between the tent, the trees and the sky. I was completely out of place and completely alone. "I'm not like them," I thought as I looked into the blue. "I'm sorry. I wish I could be, but I'm not. They have all of this faith and I...I just don't think I believe any of it. I don't even know why I'm here. I shouldn't have come."

I think that lonely moment - one surrounded by hundreds of kids who had never felt closer to their god - is when I truly walked away.

With each bite into that peach the feelings I relived in those flashes of memories built deeper inside of me. I looked down at its exposed pit and couldn't help wondering if this was what it had been like in the Garden of Eden. Every time I tore into the hard flesh of my forbidden fruit the world seemed darker and my reluctance to attend the evening's service grew.

I fought for the remainder of the drive. I told myself to suck it up; to do what somewhere inside of me I knew was the right thing and that I would be better off for it. I switched lanes each time one option won out over the other until my usual exit for home passed.

The air that rushed out the door when I entered the building felt familiar but not comforting. I stood expressionless in a cluster of empty seats, alone in a crowd once again. There was power in the music and the message as I looked around, but it couldn't reach me. "I'm not like them," I thought as I stared through the lyrics on the screen. "I wish I could be, but I'm not. They have all of this faith and I...I still can't measure up. I don't even know why I'm here. I knew I shouldn't have come."

When we were finally instructed to greet our neighbours, I left. No eye contact with anybody, no glance back when the doors closed behind me. Outside the world felt still. Inside I felt firmness of purpose and disbelief. I had never walked out of church before.

I couldn't escape the truth in the quiet. I was the sole struggling figure wading in a sea of silent cars under the orange glow of a descending sun. Nobody would come after me. Nobody knew I had been there, nobody would notice I had gone. Nobody except the God I had just walked out on.

Seldom have I felt emptier in my entire life...

Captured At:2308

Postlet 7-826

I spent Friday evening at my sister's. I'm not quite sure what got into us, but I don't know the last time I laughed that hard for absolutely no real reason. It felt fantastic; reminded me of when we were kids. It was also exactly what I needed.

I'm looking forward to going home this week and getting to spend time with my family outside of the commotion of weddings and visiting relatives. I don't think we've done that in a while.

So much I want to do, so much I should do, and seemingly too few hours left in today to accomplish it all. But I know I'll never get to any of it if I don't get my butt off this couch. Guess I'd better do just that.

Captured At:1212

Postlet 7-826a

I succeeded in getting off my tail. Two chapters of Space Mission Analysis and Design down, two to go (and we haven't even started class yet). I did my reading out by the pool. It was neat laying there on my stomach when it started to sprinkle and I could feel tiny drops prickling my back. Sort of a strange feeling, but cool at the same time. Unfortunately I am red in a few bizarre patches because the sun wasn't quite where I thought it was. And yes, I know sunscreen would have helped prevent that.

I managed to get out and play with the new camera for a bit too. The purchase isn't much of a surprise as I have been debating it for a while, but pulling away from the old one is slightly difficult. I received my DX4530 as a Christmas present almost 4 years ago and I became very comfortable with that little Kodak. I could make it do everything I wanted within its capabilities and got some truly awesome pictures along the way.

Of course, the camera doesn't have much to do with the pictures, does it? It's really the pair of eyes behind it coupled with knowledge of how best to manipulate the device in their hands.

Getting the same level of comfort with a different camera is going to take some time. There are more buttons on this one, more options to control, and more mistakes to be made as I learn how it responds and what my input actually means. I'm not looking forward to collections of pictures where the bad ones greatly outnumber the good purely because of user error. But, if the successes so far are any indication, I see tremendous potential once I know how to get it right. While that gives me some comfort it doesn't quite build the patience I'm going to need to get over the learning hump. Hopefully the process will go quickly.

Captured At:2256

A Girl, For Just a Moment...

Back in college one of the assertions I heard on many occasions was, "You're not a girl. You're bec." My inability to understand my gender seemed to set me apart from them, especially in the eyes of my male friends. I was never comfortable with "girly" stuff. I never gushed over cute guys or went to the restroom with ten of my closest friends. I had no interest in gossip or the latest teen drama. I despised the whole "girl power" or "us women have to stick together" mentality.

Sometimes, though, I have to admit there may be some truth there. When I walked back through the door what I really wanted to say was how creeped out the encounter had left me. That the visitor had looked me over a few times in a way that made me uncomfortable no matter how many times I had tried to tell myself I imagined it.

Tainted by a look. That's how I felt. Dirty somehow, though I had done nothing wrong. And I had no idea what to do to make it go away. Even now it's still lingering.

I don't think guys quite understand what that's like. To them attention from a woman is something to boast about and predatory females seem an object of intrigue. I'm not sure they realize just how much they can take with one shift of their eyes.

Some girls like that sort of attention. I don't. My appearance is never something I have relied on to get by, nor do I want it to be. I am modest in attire to the point of being utterly unfashionable. No makeup, no hours doing my hair each morning. Encounters like today make me less interested in changing it. Yes, I am a lovely girl in a professional environment who should look the part because I never know who's going to walk though the door. At the same time, I never know who's going to walk through the door and whether or not he's a total creep.

The majority of guys I have come to know in my world of engineers have shown me nothing less than the utmost respect. Unfortunately things like this shift me back into a nervous existence where I feel I have to doubt if any of them can really be safe. It's horrible. I don't like living that way or attaching such a bad label to those I believe to be good people.

Nobody should have the power to make me feel like this, especially an almost total stranger. I realize that, but I don't know how to put it into effect. I'm not used to needing to. Honestly, I hope I never am.

Captured At:2307

A Quick Note From Home

Letting my mind wander as I drove up 95 carried me back to various times I have made the same trek between Florida and North Carolina. It would appear I cannot travel that road without some specific situation filling the mental cycles necessary to keep me awake. I thought back to how many different people have been in my thoughts and how the world felt at those points in time. It's all going so quickly.

Being up here is nice. The paint schemes and decor in this house have changed since my last visit, but the dynamic of my family remains everything I have come to expect after twenty-six years. Nothing says "welcome home" like being smothered with hugs before sitting down to a table of homemade Italian food.

It's also exactly the sort of departure from my daily life that I think I needed. I get these things so infrequently and I try to make the most of it when they're accessible.

The first "grandchild" has finally arrived. The thought of my sister having kids coupled with the realization that such a thing isn't twenty years away anymore is throwing me off a bit. Fortunately the only thing I have to play "aunt" for right now is Kirby, who finally joined us this evening. He is adorable, is still trying to make sense of his new surroundings, and there's something about a new ball of fluff that makes you incapable of doing anything but loving it.

I watch as my sister continues to build her life and it seems unreal to me. I don't understand how she has grown up so much and I have failed to do the same. Maybe that's why everybody seems to be pushing me that direction lately knowing full well I'm reluctant to go. There is certainly a rough road ahead. For now, though, I'll curl up in this borrowed bed and enjoy the knowledge that when I wake tomorrow it will be to stumble downstairs and find some smiling faces happy to see me. That nice thought is a perfect note to end on. Throw in some happy dreams and there's little else I could wish for right now.

It's nice to be home.

Captured At:2353