August 11, 2008
The Imagination Running Away Again
Halfway back to my point of entry I was reacquainted with a lovely little instrumental. My emotions twirled with the melodies as images I could not explain filled my mind. The start was gentle, innocent, and full of hope. I saw a young child, arms stretched wide, running circles as if he believed he were riding upon currents of air. I followed him as the song continued. I became him.Thirty seconds in the melody changes to one of trouble. The innocence is shattered and I sink a little, but I get up and start walking.
Along the way I discover something wonderful. Love, peace, purity - it feels almost like flying again.
It doesn't last. I walk on again, alone. I think I am okay with the loss, but the journey becomes tiring and I am proven wrong. The world greys and the sadness sinks in further, almost to the point of despair. How did this happen? How did I get here? It's all wrong.
I get up and, somehow, resume walking. Where to, I don't think I care. All I know is to press on.
Wait! There it is again: Love, peace, purity. I know that feeling. Gentle just as before, but this time more intense. When I expect it to vanish, it remains. It becomes entangled with me, wrapping around my body and delving deeper into my being. It becomes stronger in its continued presence. It is magical beyond words. You, my interlude, you, my saving grace, here at long last! How did I ever survive before you appeared? Come dance away with me.
What's this? Something else has come upon it and grabbed hold to take it away. No, this can't be! I feel my body jerked back and forth as the tug-of-war on my treasure intensifies. Suddenly everything flies apart. I drift slowly downward like a leaf as if about to wake from a dream. I get up, the dust still settling around me, and search frantically only to discover I have lost. Despair fades into numbness.
I am back to being an observer. My walker is complacent and alone. The sole documentary of his journey maps to my footsteps as I trudge across the loose sand. My heart calls out to a figment of my imagination that disappears from my sight as quickly as he came into it. I cannot believe those notes are it for him. It seems too sad, too wrong. There must be better waiting for him down that road. It saddens me to know I will never see it.
Captured At:2226
August 12, 2008
Week of Rediscovery: Day 1
It seems contradictory to have an objective for this week, but I do. After so much work and so little time for me, the goal is to stop moving and remember who I am. These days are to be as stress-free as possible while also allowing me to get my act together. Feeling pressure to do something will automatically relegate it to the bottom of the list. Waking up and knowing I did not have any great rush to be anywhere was a wonderful feeling. It is also one I am sure will continue throughout the week.The beach was a welcome sight. My only time constraint for the week would keep me from spending more than an hour with it. I cherished every moment. When had I last left my footprints in that sand? When had I last felt such soft warmth on my shoulders? Far too long ago, I am sure. But I had not lost my touch. I could still make an entire flock of birds take to the air by doing no more than lifting my arms, and I did so on every possible occasion with a self-satisfied smile. Such a lovely morning it was.
It saddened me to realize that arriving at the office destroyed my pleasant mood. I could literally feel it sinking the longer I was in the room our directorate had gathered in. One part of my fractured mind stood watching as a second demoralized a weaker third. The best I could do to subdue it into silence was engage in mindless games on the phone. I am thankful I have developed the awareness to recognize what I am doing, but I continue to wonder if the battles I wage in my own head will ever become easier to win.
I stayed far longer than planned, then spent the next hour whining at a coworker who has far better things to do than listen to some kid prattle on about the trials of being twenty-seven. I hate that behaviour in myself. The conversation was never supposed to be anything like what it was.
The beach gave me a fixed point that told me the day had not been all bad. As I started the long walk back to my car I realized I could still change back into somebody I do like. All I had to do was look at what I had to make use of, and the answer was literally in my hands.
One of my favorite "toys" is a partially filled bottle of water. The game seems to be a combination of juggling and playing catch alone, and I derive tremendous joy from tossing and flipping that bottle through the air.
So there I was, orange sky and purple clouds above, deserted parking lots and buildings all around, and upbeat music looping through my ears as I played all the way from the west end of HQ to the O&C. I was completely out of breath by the time I reached my destination. The bottle, which was dropped far more than usual due to the other stuff I carried, had certainly been in better shape too. But the important part is that I was grinning, bouncing along as if I had absolutely nothing in the world to lose. It felt fantastic.
I suspect that if anybody had seen me they would have thought I was out of my mind. I smile as I type that because it is a phrase I am familiar with but have not uttered enough recently. Things looked scary for a while there, but I am pleased I can look back and know I saved the day. That, too, is a good feeling. This week may not turn out so bad after all.
Captured At:2240
August 13, 2008
WoR 2
It amazes me how perceptions can change over time. I can remember a period in my life when sleeping past ten was both acceptable and expected. These days it seems the epitome of laziness. Waking at 1030 was a disappointment for two reasons. First, it seemed like I had lost a huge chunk of my day. Second, before my eyes even opened I felt low and lost.The early part of the morning only seemed to reaffirm that I should have stayed in bed. Nothing waiting in an inbox I should not have been checking seemed to give me any hope. I lost more hours trying to straighten it all out, then gave up and returned to the beach.
In spring I leave the flip flops in the car to walk barefoot across the pavement and down onto the sand. This routine gave me no troubles the day before, but it was a poor choice at 130 on an August afternoon. Halfway down the stairs I realized my feet could not handle it and sprinted back to the car for my shoes. I am not always the smartest creature on the planet.
The beach was again lovely. I walked toward heavy grey skies and could see long wisps of rain coming down upon a stretch of northern coastline I would not reach. The waves lapped the shore gentler than I expected, the water a deep teal accented with a purplish reflection of the storm clouds above. The scariest of the formations drifted out to sea and formed a mushroom top over the ocean unlike anything I had ever seen.
With nowhere to go I stayed a bit longer after my walk was finished. I pulled the buds out of my ears and closed my eyes as I stood just within reach of the tide. It felt nice to melt away again. I have dearly missed that sensation.
Back at home I retrieved my package of new computer parts from the office. Whether the problem that took me down was with the board or the memory, I do not know. Either way, the system had never run at a temperature I felt comfortable with. At three-and-a-half years old, it was probably time for the components to be replaced anyway.
Truth be told, I wasn't sure how well the rebuild would work. I hoped I had picked components that were both compatible and Linux-friendly, but I would have no real way of knowing until I put them together with the pieces that were not being replaced. Fighting with my computer is always a frustrating experience. It usually leaves me feeling like a failure at being the computer geek I am supposed to be.
Imagine my surprise when everything worked on the first try. The only real mistake was bad cable placement that kept me from sliding the cover back into place. I could not have been more pleased to discover that I may actually know what I am doing after all.
If nothing else, Tuesday met the relaxation objective. Slipping into bed that night I couldn't help but think of the things I hoped I might do this week and how little time was left to do them. That thought did not stick around long. Given my overall goal, I refused to let it.
Captured At:2309
August 14, 2008
WoR 3
Last night I recounted my Tuesday. It seemed rather dull and boring, lacking any of the insight I prefer to indulge in when I sit down to write. I am not sure which I dislike more: writing things that I see no meaning in or not writing at all. In many ways my life feels far too empty. I suspect that constant motion only adds more negative space to the void.Wednesday was a day of no significance by many counts. I recall not how it began, nor can I recall what I did with so many of the earliest hours we shared. Once I began moving and left the house I tackled one errand after another. Things I had been putting off finally saw completion. I could tell immediately my apartment was glad to shed the bags for Goodwill, which had been sitting in the same spot for months as a visible reminder of everything I hoped to get to eventually.
Church served as the highlight of my night. I am no more able to arrive there on time than I am anywhere else, but the instant I walked in my spirits lifted. The message was one about God and his justice, highlighting in particular the well known story about the woman caught in the act of adultery. Our substitute speaker last night pointed out that her story was unfinished. The last we knew she was told "Go and sin no more". Anything could have happened from there. God is certainly generous in the second and third and hundredth chances he gives us, but we still have the ability to walk away from those events unchanged.
One of the things I get frustrated about most often is how unfinished I know my life to be. I believe there is potential for a great story; one which I am both nervous and impatient to discover the end of. I also recognize how many additional, greatly undeserved chances I have been given in my life. The question is: if I see, how has that changed me? The other big question I ask is how to learn and change and grow without losing the person I am - somebody I value and believe in despite what my words can be prone to suggest. There is certainly a lot there to think about.
I had hoped to finish the evening deeply lost in the majesty of starlight on the ocean, perhaps with ice cream dripping down the front of me, but it was not to be. My childhood and I visited over Friendly's finest black raspberry served the only way one should ever eat it: in a sugar cone with chocolate sprinkles. By the time we reached the parking lot it was raining heavily. I took the hint from the thunder and lightning, finished my ice cream while waiting for the downpour to ease up, and drove home.
I could cite little of significance I had done with the day. I could have let the loss of my star time ruin everything if I had chosen. In the end, though, I was content. I felt accomplished and relaxed and unpressured to make any further movements. Being able to truly take one day at a time - no schedule, no expectations, no worries - is probably the greatest gift I have received from my time off this week. Like most things, it is slipping away from me far too fast. I see this reality, I know the facts, and I plan to treasure every second I get. It's a beautiful thing.
Captured At:2310
August 15, 2008
WoR 4
For as much as I accomplished on Wednesday there is one thing I did not do. What gave rise to the idea is not something I can place, but I became absolutely determined to buy new bedding for my room. Every time I had considered doing so in the past I gave up due to indecision. A change would have been nice, but I was not ready to put in the effort required to make it happen. This time around I was ready.I knew the action would not be without monetary impact. I did not care. There was a strong passion and sense of purpose associated with this task. I would not be satisfied until I saw it to completion. I would endure the hours of searching and internal debate over how I wanted things to be. I would force myself to compromise on what was actually possible when the offerings of the world did not exactly match my desires. Whatever it took, it would be done.
I probably looked like a yutz wandering circles around the store or just standing there seemingly doing nothing. I paid no mind to this fact. So long as I came away with something that reasonably matched the mental image, I would be fine.
The new purchase triggered an entire reshuffling of my bedroom. With it came a massive cleansing I had also been putting off. I am tired of my surroundings not matching what I find truly pleasing. I have no use for most "things", yet there is clutter hidden around here in any location I can squeeze it. Yes, it was high time for the minimalist to overrule the packrat and the sentimental sap that so often gang up against her.
I had to laugh to myself a bit when I found the furniture arrangement to be almost identical to when I first moved in four years ago. Still, I liked the feel of the new space. It was simpler, more open, and worth every minute of the hours I put into it. The old sheets and blankets were tossed in the dumpster without any consideration to keep them. The shelves of books and stuffed animals were reduced to something more reasonable. I would discover a box of papers, throw it to the side, then immediately pick it up again to sift through its contents and make as many as possible disappear. I felt no remorse that any of these items were gone.
There is immeasurable freedom in shedding unnecessary things from one's life. Perhaps the greatest freedom is in discovering their lack of necessity and learning that their absence is survivable.
If I am honest, the accomplishment was bittersweet. I recognize a big step in yesterday that some would say is long overdue. I am growing and changing and slowly taking the actions necessary to create an adult life. I am starting to picture a state to move toward. That evolution is a truly beautiful thing. The down comes in the recognition that I am doing it all alone, just as I do most things unrelated to my job. It is not easy and I know I can handle it, but sometimes it would be nice to have the option for something different.
So I suppose my attempts yesterday were to take control of the things I can change. History has proven that I do not enjoy a solitary and aimless lifestyle for long, but I will be sad to see this week conclude. I will miss the freedom, the lack of stress, and the unexpected productivity. I will miss not having to worry about when I wake up or choose to go to bed. I will miss the sunshine. I will miss music surrounding me every day and my hours writing every night. I needed this time and I believe I have used it well. I just hope I am ready to get back into the swing of things in time to board that plane on Sunday.
Captured At:1121
August 20, 2008
Florida Rain
The end of my week off was by far the laziest part of it. Friday afternoon I stopped on campus to drop off a piece of paper and ended up staying in that same office for over half an hour. For once the delay was not because I had gotten sidetracked while yammering away at some poor soul who had no viable escape. No, this time my short errand was prolonged because the weather had other plans.A couple from Alaska and a woman with her young daughter also had the pleasure of being weathered in. The forecast suggested it would take half an hour for the storm to pass us by. The sky roared in anger sending fierce breezes to rattle the trees and drive the rain while we stood watching through a pair of glass doors. My comment to the woman at the front desk was that I clearly had not spent enough time in their office during my undergraduate career and this storm was to help make up for that. The visit reminded me of two things. First, how much I enjoyed talking with new families. Second, how great much of the Florida Tech staff is. Even in a room of people I do not at all know, the place somehow still has a sense of home.
The next day the rain made its strongest appearance as I was about to leave for my aunt and uncle's house. True to form I was already a bit late, and the car being parked extra far from the building did not help matters. My brilliant plan was to throw my shoes in a bag, pull on my lime green raincoat, and pad through whatever the sky chose to send. The parking lot was one giant puddle thirsty for more of the thick droplets splashing around me. I was soaked within 5 seconds and could not do anything but laugh. I sang rain songs in my head and fought the urge to dance around. The drive south felt more like boating.
Playing in the rain backfired when I reached my aunt's house. My wet bare feet were no match for the smooth concrete in her garage. Two steps in I slid and fell, my right leg bent awkwardly beneath me.
The thunderstorms lately have been powerful to the point of terrifying, yet I would still take them over a hurricane any day. As I sit in my hotel room tonight with a series of purple spots to remind me of the weekend's brilliance, my mind jumps back to what I imagine it could look like at home tonight. This tropical system is small enough that I should not have to worry about what I might return to, but I do not want to take anything for granted. Sometimes I forget just how quickly everything can be taken away. Storm season certainly helps me keep perspective.
And if I get to play in the rain a little as it passes, I suppose it might not be all bad after all.
Captured At: 134
August 21, 2008
Fallen Heroes
Stuffed from a dinner of genuine Chicago pizza and tired after a long day of trying to model Magical Trevor, I had little interest in doing anything other than writing when I returned to the hotel Tuesday night. I was sitting on the bed with the computer in my lap when I first heard the news. It arrived as a single line in an IM window shortly after midnight. "LeRoi Moore died today."My Dave Matthews Band fanaticism has toned down quite a bit since they first hooked me in the early 90's, but I suspect this news came as a shock to just about everybody in the DMB fan community. There was now a permanent hole in our band. The man whose sax and flute had coaxed me to tears or carried me dreamily away with just a few notes was gone.
And I felt nothing.
Truth be told, my lack of reaction surprised me even more than the original news had. There was a time in my life when this event would have been a crushing blow to the very things that kept me together. Not so anymore.
That night I spent an inordinate amount of time skimming DMB news sites and message boards I used to frequent. Some of them no longer existed, which only reinforced how out of touch I had become. Still, I wanted to know what had happened.
What I found on the boards frustrated rather than informed me. Some people talked about a great man they most likely had never even met and made comments about feeling like they had lost a member of their family. This sort of response seemed extreme and slightly foolish. Others feared this event would be the beginning of the band's end. These remarks spoke only of selfishness. The man has died and the big question is "But will we still get our music?"
And then there were the statements that he is surely serenading the angels in heaven. That response is such an easy one, isn't it? We believe our own assessment of a person's character and assume that those we deem "good enough" make it to a better place. True the man had soul - that was obvious in the way he played - but where he is for sure is between him and God. To people who don't know better, "serenading the angels" is sweet; a happy ending to an unexpected tragedy. To those who do, the words are devoid of meaning.
Yes, the loss does signify the end of the original DMB. For me, the band lost something years ago: its innocence. I see so little of the same happy, hopeful, thoughtful quintet that absorbed me into their world. Instead the songs carry darkness and cynicism; lyrics of love have been turned to lyrics of filthy lust, and the oft-referenced devil is clearly winning the battle. I will always love the early music for what it was to me and the part of me it represents, but the more recent offerings are not something I want influencing my life.
As for LeRoi, I am sorry to hear of his passing. I pray he really is tearing up a solo with the angels in attendance. I have no doubt this loss has hit the band hard, and I hope they can grow from here instead of sink into the despair Dave has become so prone to. Whatever happens, they certainly do not have an easy road ahead.
Captured At:2048
August 25, 2008
The one thing I heard most from the people I shared the story with was, "You should have called me." I had considered contacting each of them, but hesitated because of all the reasons I could think of not to. None of those reasons were deemed valid when I explained my decisions.
Tonight my plan was to visit a friend from out of town who had come to Orlando for a few days. I stopped for gas on the way, then called to break the news that I would not be coming anymore. Other forces had intervened and it was just not going to work out.
There was no hesitation in making the second call. I sat in my car and waited patiently as the phone rang. Finally it was answered.
"Remember how you said that the next time Milo did something stupid I should call you?"
"Is this it?"
"Yeah."
Perhaps "doing something stupid" was not the right phrase. This time he was doing absolutely nothing.
I wandered into the convenience store for a candy bar, and then sat on the trunk of my car playing BubbleBreaker as I waited. Everyone pulling in to fill up gave me an odd look, yet only one actually thought to ask if everything was okay. My rescuer and his daughter arrived shortly after, and within minutes he pronounced the battery dead.
As we walked into Wal-mart to pick up a replacement he told me his day had been really awful. My phone call had been the highlight. I laughed and said I was glad I could share my motor misery with them.
On the way home I became mesmerized by the sunset and its reflection in a stretch of the state made extra swampy by Fay. Strom clouds bring out some of the most spectacular sunsets I have ever seen. It seems illogical that the existence of something commonly considered bad could actually make things good, but it seems to work.
I saw a parallel between the sky and my evening. Most consider car trouble and the foiling of plans a bad thing. Those are the clouds, and very few people would fault me for getting upset or frustrated. Instead I took it in stride, and the steps to resolution actually became a positive for somebody else. I can think of no sky more golden.
Captured At:2058
August 30, 2008
All These Things Are Yours To Take
The comment came unexpectedly, but it followed a theme I felt had been presented with relative frequency over the past several weeks. I had just apologized, remarking that I need to stop telling the guy what to do. "It's okay," he assured me. "Maybe it's time for me to get out of the way."I have been, for lack of a better term, attached to this man for three years now. In that time he has come to consider me his number two in the arena in question. We have formed a reasonably solid relationship, yet I have been unable to decide what to conclude from his recent statements. Finally I asked.
The answer came back that it has become clear I know far more about what we are doing and the things we are watching than he does. His admitted concern was that he might be standing in the way of goodness. If so, letting me take the lead could be the right thing to do. There was no question in either of our minds whether I could do the job. I was practically doing all of it anyway and had been for quite some time. Very little would change. If I wanted it, it seemed all I had to do was say yes.
In the past when this shift in power has come up my comment has always been that nobody would go for it. At 27 and a GS-12, I would become one of, if not the youngest and least experienced owner of an element for the Constellation program. We are not a major player or a large group, but our work has already been recognized by the agency and received positively by the heads of the program. Owning a box on the organizational chart with real people beneath it could be seen as a great career move and, given the potential uniqueness of my position, also carry some bragging rights with it. Anyone would have jumped at the opportunity.
Yet even as I readied myself for bed that night I was still struggling with the decision. The only answer I kept coming back to was "I want to say yes, but I can't." This time it had nothing to do with my oft-stated opposition to having a "cow". I had already asked the question of what the role might preclude me from doing and the answer came back as little to nothing he could think of.
It was my own motives I did not trust. Did I truly believe this was the right thing, or was I just after the chance to feel one breath closer to being a "somebody" again?
I took a step back and looked at who I am and want to be as a person. I decry self-serving individuals and despise hypocrites, yet here I was staring down a line in the sand which had the potential to make me some of the very things I hate. If nothing would really change, why did it matter whether my name went in the box or not?
Maintaining the status quo after the switch also seemed too easy. Perhaps the duties would not change, but I knew something else had to. I realized relatively quickly what that thing was: me.
I have high expectations of myself as it is, but those become even higher when I find myself in a position of defined leadership. The responsibility I feel toward those I serve takes priority in my life and my character is under even stricter personal review. My relationships with people change, my actions change, my view of the world and how it should operate change. That is not to say I am inattentive to these things now, but one's actions and choices should be different when there are other people in the equation for whom they are responsible.
Given past experience, I concluded there would be several problems with this situation. I saw too much of my accountability disappearing and the potential for tremendous complications with my current line manager. I also considered some of the things the lead and I had discussed me doing after graduation. If the roles changed, I could not in good conscience go forward with them. It would feel too much like I had accepted the lead position and was exploiting it for personal gain.
The next morning I went directly to a meeting with two the other team members. It was a disaster of miscommunication and I failed to make things better despite the best intentions to do so. I could not figure out where I had gone wrong, but I knew I had not handled the situation as I believed a leader should.
When we sat down again that afternoon I threw everything out there, including the incident that morning. "Every one of my major failures on this project has been with people," I said. "How can I ever expect those guys to respect me if I am conducting myself in a way that even I don't respect? And if I keep failing with people, do I really belong trying to lead them?"
I received laughter in some places, but no real argument to anything I had said. "Okay, so we keep things as they are and we'll..." I know I tuned out at that point. A decision should have made me feel better, but it did not. It really seemed I lost either way.
On the drive home I continued hoping and praying that the right outcome had taken place. I realized that a statement of "I wish I could have said yes" would have been a request to be somebody I was not. Still, I remained convinced that just about anybody else in the world would have made the opposite choice and not thought twice about it. "I must be crazy," I thought. "Who says no to something like that?"
I imagined having to one day tell the story of turning down a box as a GS-12. Part of me still wondered if it was a mistake, but the rest of me knew that I handled the decision with maturity and came out of it with my integrity intact. Giving in to the temptation at the risk of realizing three months later that I had been wrong would only have done more harm. I could claim victory with confidence that my time will make itself known when it is truly right. I have faith, and that means more than any four lines ever could.
Captured At:2100