A Late Start to October

Sitting down to write on days like this are the most difficult. The complication comes in having been away from the keyboard for so long that there is no cohesion between the things that should find words. They are all unique, each equally worthy of having their story told in its own way. In the world as it exists today such a thing is not possible, though I dearly wish it were.

The rain outside makes me thankful I went to church early this morning. Honestly though, I don't think it would have been a huge loss if I hadn't made it. The teaching for the past two weeks could really have been summed up with one statement from Alice in Wonderland - "Be what you would seem to be" - and isn't exactly a new revelation. I've been working at this one for a while with the varying degrees of success to be expected.

On the personal front this week has been both awkward and enlightening. The world has been coming at me from sixteen different directions, each one carrying some concoction of emotions that contradicts all of the others. I have been feeling everything and nothing all at once. When the wind hit me in the parking lot this morning feeling very much like autumn I thought, "It's that time of year again, isn't it? Please, not yet." It immediately changed course and, to my relief, dropped me on my high school tennis courts. When my favorite ghost appeared in several of my dreams I could only sigh upon waking and concede how fitting it was. The ear I most wanted was so close and still completely inaccessible.

The voice that accompanies that ear probably would have confirmed and directed me to do what I already knew needed to be done. I forced myself to have a number of difficult yet necessary conversations of a variety I have traditionally avoided. Really, I've done a lot of talking over the past few weeks that is more open than I usually get. I don't think any of them realize how much I exposed myself in this process. They know things now, but I don't think they have any real concept of what they now know. I have yet to decide if this is freeing or reason for retreat.

In this extended process of sharing who I am on the inside I was also given glimpses of who I am on the outside. One came in the form of an email that seemed to go off on a complete tangent, but it amused me just the same.

Did I ever tell you that I really like you? You have a British type sense of humor that was tough to figure out at first, but once I realized that it was like the British, then I understand and it became really hilarious. You can also tell when you are starting to really enjoy yourself because you get a twinkle in your eyes and your hands start moving in all directions. You get this sly smile on your face that eventually turns into a big grin. Plus your eyes dart around the room and then quickly look at the person you are talking to, then just as quick, back away. You even get tickled at yourself sometimes when you're telling about something that was particularly funny to you.

I considered it confirmation that I am every bit as quirky as I believe and, yes, I could certainly see myself in the description. The only part that hung me up was the British sense of humor. I had to ask what that meant, much like I had to do as a child the first time I was admonished for being sarcastic. Some things really aren't learned.

Of course the same individual who makes such accurate observations of my mannerisms completely stumbles when it comes to understanding traits of my personality I claim but they don't see. In trying to set this straight I provided links to several websites explaining characteristics of the rare few who score as I do on the MBTI. Overall they have me pegged. The biggest disparity I found was that we're not the leadership type, yet I have had it pointed out to me on several occasions that I have natural ability in that arena. I suppose that makes me rare among the rare. That could explain a lot.

Coupled with long days and the previous week's travel I think the end result of such an emotional stalemate has been complete exhaustion. More of Saturday's hours were spent asleep than awake. Nothing was accomplished that should have been. The same could be said for today thus far, but I think taking the time to write was necessary in the recharging process. I thank God that tomorrow is a holiday and I have the chance to make up for the laziness I haven't been able to shake.

I went to sleep last night looking for today to be a new start. A productive stretch in my home life marked with a return to the runs I've neglected and elimination of the homework assignments I have outstanding. For days I have felt like the world is spinning violently out of control while knowing full well that it is not. It's time to force my perception into alignment with reality and I can't let the thunder shaking this little apartment stop me. It's time to keep pushing on.

Captured At:1342

Just Walk with Me and be My Friend<

Noon on a Monday and the parking lot was nearly empty. Truth be told I welcomed the change. For an hour I padded my way along the hard sand oblivious to the sun attacking my shoulders and ignoring waves that reached further inland than low tide should have allowed. I remember the Bugs Bunny cartoons where he would ask, "Ever had the feeling you was being watched?" The sense I had on the northbound leg was similar.

But I wasn't being watched or even followed. I was being accompanied.

My ghost made the entire walk with me; laughing, reliving memories, listening intently and, at times, almost in tears. Mostly, though, he was silent. Somehow he was more real, more tangible in the quiet. He would take shape about six inches from my right shoulder for as long as I kept my head up and my eyes focused forward. The instant I turned to face the water he would vanish. On the south leg he was gone.

Conversation has drifted often over the past few weeks to a subject I would rather ignore. The wonderful people I have in my life want to see the day come where I am not alone. They want my life to consist of more than work and classes. They believe I need more social interaction. They want to see me have somebody to return home to at the end of the day. They ponder what I will be like when I am completely smitten and tell me how funny it will be to see me swept off my feet.

I find their dream world amusing.

The night the clouds rained on me they ruined the desired conclusion for my walk. I had hoped to visit the playground and perch myself upon the red twist to reconnect with whatever it was I had been feeling such strong separation from. Before the drops began I considered what I was about to do. I concluded that living at the mercy of my unpredictable soul was something I could never experience with another person in a fulfilling way.

Having a companion is wonderful. I truly love the way sharing what's real builds a relationship. But the existence of another person completely eliminates the solitude that makes those moments me.

Real company on the beach would have been nice. Somewhere along my path of footprints I concluded it's only through losing everything you have that you can learn what you really need. I have been given far more than I deserve. I have also lost more than I ever hoped to possess.

When the final arc of the sun slipped below the horizon that night I was leaning on my car door watching him from the east side of the river. I was pleased to catch those final moments and feel the silence deepen as he disappeared. While twilight slowly set in I sat on the railing at the very end of the pier. I couldn't decide if it was foolishness or bravery that had motivated the climb to dangle my feet over the water.

Trust is a curious thing to me. Openness with somebody else requires the same act as perching myself in a precarious location, yet having confidence in the quality of the wood and the workmanship of the structure seemed far easier. Granted I was still nervous, but if I fell the worst I could possibly get was wet and perhaps a little bruised. My body heals faster than I do.

The winds that night battered the waves and I equally. Looking down gave the illusion that the pier was chasing a sunrise that wouldn't see Melbourne Beach for half a day. It was magical. It was magical and it hurt. It hurt enough that every reflex moved to tears but failed to produce the expected flood.

Sometimes my soul aches so strongly that it feels like it's reaching out of my chest. The strain accompanying the cries is unmistakable. All I can ever do is press my hand over my heart in hope that it provides it some comfort in the wake of another failed attempt at connection.

My grip on the corner post tightened with the tension in my body. Initially I had wrapped my arms around it for balance and safety from the water below, but it quickly became obvious that in that moment I was clinging to it for far more. I conceded that if a cold vertical log was the only physical contact to be found that evening I was going to lean into it, let my body go limp, and absorb all of the support I could get.

That's really the only level where one can become involved with a piece of wood. People have more to them (or so I tell myself) which provides multiple layers to every interaction. Meeting somebody on all of them at once is extremely difficult and exceedingly rare. Anything less feels inadequate in my convoluted little mind.

No, another person isn't the answer. I have often found them to perpetuate the problem. Still, I try to treat everyone well and take care of them the best I know how. I try to love them where they are at and for who they are. I try to expect no more of them than is reasonable given who I know they are instead of who I want them to be. Success in those areas is far more worthy of focus than the life everybody else wants me to lead. It may not always be pretty, but I know without any trace of doubt that I am truly alive. In joy, in sorrow; from one turn of the circle to the next; ashes to ashes, to dust I shall return -perhaps to a beach where I can remind another solitary traveler that they are never completely alone...

Captured At:2344

Tonight, for the first time in recent memory, I savored every second of the hot water flowing from the shower head. There was none of the rushing that so often characterizes my mornings, no post-run weariness, no iteration of the usual routine. It felt wonderful to press pause after a busy week and truly relax.

The desire for stillness continues as I lounge here in the candlelight sipping a cup of tea with so much honey in it that no trace of the natural vanilla flavour remains. Pat Monahan's background serenade about counting airplanes has transported pieces of my mind years into the past. The sense of calm accompanying the memories that return only adds to the ambiance. Contentedness truly is a gift from God. I remain ever grateful.

As I drove home from Orlando last night I did so with a deep, sincere smile on my face. My family probably thought it a bit rude that I had continuously returned to the mobile device tucked into my pocket, but it was clear they didn't understand the significance of what had been accomplished in my office that afternoon. The ones who got it - who shared every bit of my elation - were only accessible through the miracle of technology. The ability to fire off short messages to them as I sipped margarita under the stars easily made my night. For a little while the boundary placed between our lives by the Space Center gates didn't exist. And in that pause I felt like I had friends again. It's been far too long.

Everybody who saw me yesterday afternoon, everybody who got email or talked to me on the phone, was laughing. I was floating at least six inches off the ground when I wasn't excitedly jumping up and down proclaiming, "It works it works it works!" Professionalism be damned, I guess.

I can get away with it now, but at some point that sort of reaction will cease to be appropriate. I struggle with that idea more than I would like. I know I can play the professional card when necessary, but I don't know how I'm supposed to suppress the child in me that shows her face during the highs. I love her dearly; I just don't think she's quite what somebody is going to want leading the space program in 20 years.

That thought couldn't have been further from my mind yesterday, but it did rear its head as we were toured around this afternoon. Should anyone over the age of 10 really derive that much joy from being given a marker and told to scribble on the table all they want? Should that joy really have doubled upon discovery that the marker was scented and the seat tipped forward so you could almost feel like you were flying in it?

No, probably not.

I tell myself that the people who matter will be able to work it out. That they will recognize I am exceedingly competent, strong, and an all around good person to have on their side, but they will also see the purity in the emotions I love to share the most. And I remind myself that, like most things, the trick is in finding the right balance. I have to believe that keeping both is possible.

For now, though, I'm not going to worry about it. Instead I will enjoy the calm after an emotional week. I will smile recalling the countless reinforcements I received that I am loved just for being me. And I will continue to be thankful as I remember my greatest accomplishment: the smiles I have inspired on other people's faces. I can think of no better way to end today than that.

Captured At:2313

Rear seat on the driver's side. When it came to childhood road trips that was always my spot. If I couldn't obtain the role of co-pilot for shorter runs, chances are that seat third row left was the one I would return to.

From that location I could drown out the voices of the other passengers by tipping my head just a little closer to the rear speakers pumping music through the minivan. From the window I would watch towns and states pass by. I would dream with the clouds and hope with the stars. I would look at the reflection of a little girl who always seemed too set apart from her surroundings to make any sense of a world she wanted desperately, even at that young age, to understand.

Part of me wondered if the stereo getting a little louder when Buffett came on was intentional. At that moment I gave up trying to nap and looked toward the front of the vehicle curious if I was being watched. Everybody else's sense of nostalgia had been touched on the drive. If he gave any consideration to his audience he had to suspect this one would be mine.

Son of a Son of a Sailor. I hadn't heard the song in years. I wondered why that was. The next observation was how quiet the car was. In my family of Parrotheads there was often a choir of local voices in sync with the track. Not so today.

I had become lost in a flash of maple trees and Happy Meals when I heard the person next to me start singing quietly to himself. Something in that struck a warm spot and carried my mind deeper. I could feel the light smile slowly find its way to my face never imagining anybody could actually see it. Consensus would later say I had slipped away to an island somewhere.

Truth is no island in existence is wonderful enough to have pulled me away from where I drifted to. That little slice of afternoon tucked in the back of an Explorer filled with co-workers brought me back to my family in a way I hadn't felt them for years. It caught me completely off guard; one of those things you don't expect to knock you over and then suddenly you're face down in the grass.

Today I didn't mind missing them. I didn't mind that somebody noticed what I hope was a very gentle smile or said they knew I'd been in my happy place. I didn't mind when the driver laughed as he later explained the way I sank lower in the seat as the music continued.

It was one of those simple and beautiful moments I so love; another dip into a pool of mental tranquility. Only one thought managed to grab hold of me and it carried an even greater sense of wonder with it. "I'm a long way from a minivan rambling across New York State..."

Captured At:2145

Up On the Roof

It's sort of silly, but today I've resized the text editor so I can still see the wallpaper on my laptop. Even sillier is that I'm getting so lost in the outline of that pier against the setting sun that words suddenly fail me completely.

Peace is a beautiful thing.

There are dragons in the clouds today. I watched them playing as my flight left the MCO runway and I could do nothing but smile while gazing across the puffy field of white-blue. Any trace of this morning's shuttle launch is long gone. The crew made it a lot farther into the heavens than I will today. A lot farther than I will ever.

It has become a generally agreed upon fact that I would be completely useless in space. The instant I got a glimpse of the Earth I would be done, frozen completely in place and unable to move or speak. Watching my first launch from the grounds of KSC had that effect. My friends had to drag me back to the bus that night despite my protests of "But I can still see it..." Those were the only words I could find for a good twenty minutes.

The knowledge that I would not be standing somewhere on the space center watching launch this morning was initially a tremendous disappointment. This was to be my first absence since I began working there in 2004. I kicked myself several times last night for not sticking around long enough to see the shuttle illuminated on the pad. It's easy to say there will be other opportunities, but those chances are running out as the program winds to a close. 2010 doesn't seem as far away as it used to.

In an attempt to feel better I reminded myself I was missing the launch so I could fly to Houston and be part of a group creating the future. That's no small thing. If everybody focused only on today, where would that leave us tomorrow? I also remembered my goal of making each launch a little different so I wouldn't fall into a mentality of "If you've seen one, you've seen them all". Passion meets no faster death than through uninspired repetition. I am determined to never reach that point.

My attention was on the clock more than the road as I raced west - the exact opposite direction of where I truly wanted to be. I crafted a mental image of myself standing alone on the roof of an airport parking garage surrounded by abandoned cars as the rest of the world went about their day oblivious of the tiny flame pushing through the sky. It seemed a poor substitute for what I've become accustomed to.

Imagine my surprise when I arrived on the roof and discovered clusters of people scattered against the railings or standing outside cars with radios tuned into the launch commentary. They didn't clap and cheer at liftoff like the Kennedy crowd does, but their presence on those rooftops sent a very clear message. People outside the gates still care about what we do. Despite our failures and shortcomings they will still press pause on their day to watch as a subset of humankind realizes their dreams at x,000 miles an hour. Given the rushed state of our modern world that's pretty spectacular.

Today was another example of life proving that when it doesn't go as I would like it to that often ends up being the best thing for me. I will remember STS-120 as a launch that inspired me not because I again enjoyed the privileges my badge grants me, but because I lived momentarily as if they had been taken away.

Perspective, too, is a beautiful thing.

Captured At:1602

Under Chilly Houston Skies

The requirement given on Thursday was that we needed someplace where we could have a few drinks and watch the sun go down over the water. Being finished early and having time to do nothing more than relax was a wonderful change from so many of the trips we usually go on. The referral was just about perfect.

Unfortunately Houston was cold this week. The lower the sun dropped the tighter I bundled into my light blue fleece and battled to stay warm. New York in a few weeks is going to be rough.

When we returned to the hotel around 730 the last thing I wanted was to be cooped up in my hotel room that early. I could offer no suggestion of what I would rather do so we parted ways, him to his room and me to the dock to watch the full moon rising over the water. Outside I was greeted by a man who asked if I had also come out to watch the space station go by. Its five minute trip across the sky was news to me. I dialed the phone once to say, "You should have come outside! You're missing the station!" then returned my attention to the only object not blotted out by the moon. Any cold I had been feeling before that moment was gone.

My entire life I have looked to the sky lost in the stars and wondering who else was out there. That night, for the very first time, I knew the object of my attention wasn't lifeless. There were real people up there who could have been looking back at me if they weren't asleep. And not just that, but they were people I had actually met and talked to. It was a revelation that completely threw me.

As I sat by the water alone once again I looked at the sky differently. I realized that when I want time with my moon 15 years from now there will be people up there too. This knowledge felt like an intrusion; like the relationship we've enjoyed my entire life had suddenly changed and could never return to the comfortable place it had always been for me. I didn't want to share. Not that he'd ever really been mine before, but at least I could believe he was.

I had so little to say to him that night. I found myself wishing something was horribly wrong so I would have an excuse for being there and something to fuel my words. It seemed so strange to not be okay with things being okay. When I finally walked back to my room I concluded that I have issues. And, being the good friend he always has been, the moon agreed.

Captured At:1544

Will You Attempt to Ford the River?"

It was only after I reached into the freezer for a Fudgesicle that I realized most of my caloric intake for today was some form of chocolate. I'm going to chalk that off to the spirit of the holiday instead of the pure laziness that it really is. I've been terrible lately and I know it. I wish I knew where the motivation behind the good habits I'm slipping away from originated. I could really use some of it back.

Of course I have always been driven in very strange ways. This past weekend suddenly became the perfect time to go through boxes in my closet I haven't opened since I moved out of Saratoga three and a half years ago. I rediscovered many pieces of my college life I had completely forgotten about. One of my favorites was a note obviously to myself that said,

"To Not Fail The Final:
- Find the textbook
- Do the review problems
- Have a shot before class
- Pray".

I have no idea which class this was in reference to, why I didn't know where my book was, or even if I ever found it. I also have no idea what the outcome of that particular final exam was. It's a prime example of how I was very far from the model student. In many ways I still am.

On the reverse, one of the other things I uncovered was my first assignment for Malcode. I remember sitting in my living room working on it with absolutely zero seriousness before leaving for St. Petersburg with my boyfriend and not really caring how the grade came back. At the time I thought the 'A' I ending up receiving must have been a total joke, but as I read through the paper again I realized that there was actually some good work in there. My instructor's comments clearly had a tone of approval and satisfaction with what I had submitted. It was a rather surprising discovery.

My final exam for that class turned up later. I had forgotten just how directed the example had been. I could see my in-class antics all over it.

That afternoon I dug out old class notes for courses so far in the past I thought I'd never think of them again. I took great joy in throwing out unwelcome artifacts from my most despised classroom experiences. I also flipped through editions of The Crimson deciding that "Nuts and Dolts" really did mean more when he was portraying life in the CS department.

And I uncovered so much old organizational stuff it made my head spin. Binders, member lists, sign up sheets, calendars, constitutions and so much more. I read submittals for "Bec's Box", reviewed drafts of award nominations, revisited emails I had received from teachers on my Quality of Life subcommittee, perused notes I'd made to keep things straight, and set aside articles on the Columbia Village dedication - which, coincidentally, took place 4 years ago to the day of when I found them.

As I surveyed the evidence in front of me I concluded for the first time ever that I really had gained some invaluable experience during my reign as a student leader. The importance I placed on trying to do good for the people I represented was clear in everything I uncovered. It's one of the few things I actually took seriously in college. Sure the stuff I was doing is trivial in the grand scheme of things, but it actually had real substance to it. I could see parallels between it and the types of things I do now and will have to do in the future. Finally, after years of not understanding what everybody had seen, I sat back and went, "wow". The kid actually had something. Who knew?

Everybody but me, I guess.

The most shocking thing to me in all of this is the mechanical way in which I emptied the boxes and relegated most of the contents to the trash. Packrats like me just don't do that. We hold onto everything because we might need it or want it or are just too attached to the perceived sentimentality to discard it. My closet was emptier when Sunday evening came, but I had absolutely no idea how to feel about that. I had just thrown away the majority of my college career like it was nothing. Perhaps the opposite shore of the Rubicon is finally within reach...

Captured At:2203