September 10, 2008
Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight...
Three days buried in a propulsion book is more than enough to make most people crazy. The task of vanquishing last semester's incomplete was well under way, and the more difficult of the two options for doing so had been chosen. Most people just complete the missing work and call it quits. The less intelligent start all over again. Teaching oneself sixteen weeks of material in five weeks is tough enough on its own. The subject matter being rocket science further magnifies the challenge.But one can only skim graphs and pages of ten point font for so long. Somewhere in there self-preservation becomes necessary. I made myself a promise: if I went home and finished the current chapter, I could pay a visit to the beach later that night. I was in desperate need of starlight and sea breeze. I also hoped the wind would be kind enough to give me the embrace I had been longing for all day.
My headlights piqued the attention of a man under the pavilion. Until my arrival he had been relaxing on a picnic table reading. He determined I was no threat and returned to his book. Aside from the wind, all was still. Darkened to respect turtle season, even the condos looked lifeless.
The breeze enveloped my body as I slowly walked up the coast. It and the waves left no doubt as to the storm passing south. Even in the middle of the turbulence I wanted to melt. I feel more like me in those moments under the stars than at most other times in my life. Those places where one could stop the world and gladly spend eternity are precious. They are, perhaps, the closest taste of heaven we get on this earth.
Even in the peace part of me missed the days when I could easily coax others away from their work to join me. I was a terrible influence, but the overwhelming sentiment was that my victims were happier for it. I then considered solitude and saw poetry in it. I imagined the tiny silhouette of a lone figure staring down the waves in determination and saw a warrior's strength. The emotion it triggered contained some sadness, but also tremendous respect.
I stood watching the waves in awe at the moment I stood in. I missed a time when I was more like them: just moving through life as unseen forces pulled me through. I crouched closer to the sand thinking about these friends of mine and their lack of concern. The waves didn't care if I had done my homework. They didn't care if I had eaten dinner. They didn't care how much my heart was breaking as I watched the moonlight dance upon them.
With that last thought, I turned and walked back to my car.
Captured At:1945
September 18, 2008
Moments ago as I began flopping blobs of oatmeal raisin dough onto the pan, a song from last year jumped through my speakers. I paused a moment to consider how different this September feels from others in recent memory. Tonight finds me calm and settled, which is also nice given the chaos that had taken up residence in my head over the past couple of days.
I had been doing well. I had stayed focused even when I did not want to. I was falling into a nice routine and felt accomplished, peaceful and happy whatever came my way. It was a joy to exist almost completely outside of circumstance. Then I made one small, seemingly harmless decision and it all started rolling apart. Tuesday's bad reaction to an unwarranted attack will hopefully be the worst things get. I drove home convinced I lost a friend that day. I have yet to see any indication I am wrong, but maybe.
Moving day proved to be easier than expected. I was among the first group to go and had almost completely settled in by the time I left for class. Yes, moving is a hassle, but on the whole I enjoyed it. I took the opportunity to play, climbing on tall office furniture to escape my blocked off cubicle, laughing with coworkers at random discoveries as we unpacked, acquiring rug burns from accidental run-ins with the cubicle walls as I discovered I no longer know how to ride a bicycle... Days like this remind me how much I genuinely love the people I share my job with. I am truly fortunate in that circumstance.
I have come to recognize just how important a decision it is when we choose the side of life to see. It really does color everything, and it ultimately determines whether we will look back upon our years with a sense of gratitude or disgust. While I believe there is a grander master plan, I also believe we have a hand in what we become when it all settles out. Sometimes I think we are much more a result of our choices than our circumstances.
My choices today have been simple and the end result has been pleasing. Hopefully they will also bring about a pleasant tomorrow. I guess there's only one way to find out.
Captured At:2128
September 21, 2008
Shuttle Chasing
Saturday morning and I was driving to work in the dark. For any other person in any other occupation it would have seemed like madness. For me, I knew every lost second beneath my covers would be worth it. Right now, as I'm sure most people have heard, NASA has shuttles on both pads at KSC. I learned there would be a very small window on Saturday morning when both would be visible with the RSS retracted and there was no doubt in my mind that I had to be there to see it with my own eyes. An event like this has been rare in the program, and this is most likely the last time it will ever happen.The previous evening I had gone in search of a good spot or two to try taking pictures from. I wasn't privy to knowledge of the prime press locations and didn't think I would have the elevation to see as fully over the tree line as I would want, but there had to be something there. If the pictures didn't work out, that was okay. I wanted the experience more than anything else.
I raced the sunrise on empty roads. I took a route that gave me the same glimpse of the center that my first days of commuting provided, and I smiled with the knowledge that my excitement is still going strong just over four years later.
I visited Endeavour first; a ship that always gives me pause when I see it. I remember that first up close show I received, her illumination of the night sky silencing me like so few things can. She was beautiful there as sleepy sunlight stretched across her majestic body. Standing there on the pad soaking in shuttle shapes with awe still doesn't feel real to me.
The morning would only grow more magical and memorable. I stood alone on a camera mound listening to the ocean while the sky finished waking up. A small rainbow grew out of the clouds over Pad B as if God himself were smiling down upon the fairytale world I continually thank him for placing me in. As I always do with rainbows, I wondered who else could see it. And, as I also often (selfishly) do, I treasured its appearance as something put there just for me.
I would later discover that one rainbow hadn't been enough. Within an hour two more would stretch across the cape together. At that moment I was closer to civilization. Their appearance was announced and cheered by security guards at the pad entrance. I would have to share this time, but I was glad to know somebody else had been looking skyward with me.
Just driving around the place was amazing. I would stare at the spaceship in front of me with the usual excitement and its oft-accompanied inattentiveness to driving. Then, in my efforts to refocus on operating my vehicle, I would glance into the rear view mirror to discover the other shuttle. It was two hours of not knowing where to look. Of running into the same small clusters of people who had chosen to see this once-in-my-career event. Of randomly pulling over to the side of the road so I could stand on my trunk with the camera and take a chance.
When I watched the RSS finish closing over Endeavour I was still grinning. I had been given something that morning - something incredible. I wished I knew how to take that feeling and infuse everyone else I knew with it. The flavor of love, joy and magic was so pure and simple I believed the world would be a better place if only everyone could have a taste.
That attitude seemed out of sync with what I saw looking back at me in the mirror. She showed signs of fatigue, dehydration, and the scars of a few hours with the Florida sun. They didn't matter. I didn't even care that the only thing waiting at home for me was a long overdue propulsion exam. The struggles of math problems fade with time. The moments that inspire us last forever.
Captured At:2249
September 24, 2008
...Every Now and Then
The first clock I found told me it was midnight. In those hours since my early departure from work I had managed to acquire almost a full night's sleep. I felt no more rested for the endeavour. A slumber comparable to that of Rip Van Winkle would not have been enough. The root cause remained unknown. Stress? Perhaps. Exhaustion? Maybe. Depression? Also possible.I have been giving much though to happiness lately. How we get it, how we lose it, why some of us are more predisposed to it than others... I remember a time in my life where the only answer I had to the question of what I wanted to be when I "grew up" was "happy". I suppose it is fitting I would choose an impossible goal. Even the founding fathers of our nation did not consider this intangible to be a given. Why guarantee only the pursuit of something if it is easily obtainable?
The challenge with happiness is that, for most, it is ephemeral and often relative. It has levels just as people do. For some, surface happy may be enough. For others that condition is one of the greatest curses in existence. It becomes unfathomable to the possessor how they could feel as bad as they do on the inside and nobody can see it. Inability to share or even express that inner world can set into motion a very dangerous cycle; one that could quite possibly be what causes a person to take their own life.
There are also people who make it a point that their misery be known. They will grumble and complain, perhaps yell or throw things around when they reach their limits, and think nothing of the acts. Their entire life seems to exist for unhappiness and they can never be satisfied with anything. To them, all the good in the world makes no difference. This perspective is amazing to me because it's the one that says "the good always goes bad" without recognizing that the bad is quite often displaced by good.
Life is an undulation of fortune. We may not all start out at the same point, but the motion is undeniable. Throughout our years we will be carried along by things outside of our control. The only real choice is how we respond, and that choice makes all of the difference in the world because it shapes who we become. Who we become influences the direction others will enable our lives to take. These paths may give the illusion of halting the motion, but all they can really do is adjust its frequency.
There are no born winners. Those who seem to have everything always going their way still face challenges, and I would argue that any who do not have never fully lived. A full life is struggle and hurt and sadness, yet also triumph and gratitude and happiness. Both sides are necessary.
So where does all of my pondering get me? What does the energy of these mental gyrations produce? Nothing more tangible than happiness, I'm afraid. I see that I continue to press on toward the impossible, chasing the glow of the sunset in hope that I can catch my treasured orb before it slips forever out of my reach. As long as I can still see the colors, I just might have a chance.
Captured At: 114
September 27, 2008
I have been told that I don't see the good I do. That I don't see how the patches of the world that get me for a little while end up better off for my being there and find themselves poorer for my absence. I try hard to believe it. I want to, though I suspect I never fully will.
I continue to wonder exactly what it is I'm here to do. I know in broad, sweeping terms, but my fear and impatience still hunger for specifics. Mostly, I wonder if I will win. Will I ever see a resolution of the battles I fight with myself on a daily basis? That question is probably the biggest one. They seem to keep me so occupied that no motion in one direction or another actually occurs. I am my own brick wall; simultaneously far too smart and the dumbest kid on the planet. I really hope I grow out of it.
For now, though, I'll pretend none of that stuff matters. I will jump my memory back to the beach where all of the questions melt away with one simple answer. "Because somebody has to be here to look at the stars..."
Captured At:2133
September 29, 2008
The realization that I had wasted my first truly free day in weeks disappointed me. It is amazing how I grumble when my life contains only homework and then grumble when that homework is taken away because I have nothing to do.
But grumbling only gets one so far. At some point the decision has to be made to stop grumbling and start doing something about it. Perhaps that is why I attacked Sunday with a much greater sense of purpose. First order of business: a walk in the park.
Toward the end of the first lap I was passed by an older gentleman who had apparently seen me standing on the fence. His question as he rode his bicycle by was something along the lines of "What were you trying to do?" This inquiry was not entirely harmless. The tone of voice and the slight laugh that went along with it were almost mocking. Either his inner six year old is completely gone or he still exists and just never walked on curbs in the first place. I will acknowledge that I have no idea what motivates me at times - what it is that drives me to do somewhat silly, child-like things. It is probably best that I don't.
I did fight that motivator when it suddenly began scanning a tree off to my left and showed me climbing it. Maybe next time I won't fight that urge. At the very least it will give the old guys in the park something to talk about.
I think the most important thing I got from the walk was a reminder that I am not as weak and pathetic as I allow myself to become at times. I do have the ability to change how I live and what I focus on. The real question is whether I am willing to put it to use, and I think I have to if I want any shot at showing people that there is real power in the sort of things I value and believe.
Whether knowledge can drive initiative, I don't know. It seems an unlikely match given the history I have with both of those things, but nothing is impossible. I think there could be nothing but a positive in having found an argument to counter so many of those that talk me out of one effort or another. That biker was the perfect manifestation of a running inner monologue that appears at all of the wrong times; the one that tells me how foolish I am and that nothing I could set about doing is actually all that important. I am often confounded by how I can simultaneously care so much and so little.
The real answer - one I know and all too often forget - is baby steps. One challenge, one day at a time, a little faith along the way, and there is no doubt I can overcome. It's really all up to me, so what do I choose to do? I suppose a few more walks in the park wouldn't be a bad way to help uncover the answer. And if somewhere in all of it I get back to running...well...all the better.
Captured At:2325
September 30, 2008
This is Where We Used to Live...
Several times since the move I have caught my thoughts drifting out the window into the clouds. I imagine what I must look like sitting there and I wonder what it is like to watch me unsure where my mind has danced off to. I find myself asking those questions about others often enough that entertaining the notion they could do the same doesn't seem too farfetched anymore.It scarcely seems real, but I remember that first office of mine clearly. I recall my slight disappointment at discovering it lacked a view of the outside world and my protests when the walls were erected to form its skyline. I remember taking apart the desk as I rearranged everything one afternoon but, surprisingly enough, I have no recollection of vacating it three years ago.
I watched that room transition from a full office to an empty one. I shuffled desks around for computers with the cool new software we had received and helped take apart the very same pink walls whose appearance I had despised. I moved the computers out as the software continued to evolve and watched the conference table move in to help bring that little space back to life.
Every now and again - when nobody was around or I could steal a few moments to be the last out after lunch or a meeting - I would look toward the back corner that once was mine and miss the innocence that had inhabited it. I honestly believe that some of it remained behind when I left.
How quickly I settled into the new space has amazed me. Not having twenty years of possessions to haul probably helped in the transition, but there was not even one moment where I made a turn out of habit or walked toward the wrong door.
Yesterday we detoured to the old hallway. The words scribbled on the doors gave the entire area a rundown feel. All of the cubicle walls had been removed and their disappearance made the dark rooms seem more expansive than their segmentation had ever suggested. The discards of former residents littered the floor in piles, each book and stack of papers offering clues as to who had felt them unworthy to bring along. Even I had left a few boxes behind.
I actually froze in my tracks for a moment when I first saw the emptiness. I'm not sure if it was disbelief that got me or denial.
As we picked up our last forgotten treasure and exited for the final time I recalled again that I had never seen my house empty when we moved. My mind caught me off guard by going there, but I suppose the thought was not entirely irrelevant. I concluded once more that not having that memory was for the best. My companion taking that last walk with me down our long yellow hall served as a reminder that the most important things had not been left behind. The people, at least for now, would still be there.
I decided tonight that I wanted one of the boxes in my old area. One more stolen moment alone in the place also seemed like something I should do. I walked up the stairs and was caught off guard by a sign I should have expected. "Not an Entrance" didn't register. It was noticing the tiny square window was now covered with plastic that told me there would be no box. The demolition had begun. My eyes would not fall upon my first home or my last ever again. There was no going back.
Those moments are a bit easier to handle in the literal sense than they are in the metaphorical. You know where the door is, you know you could walk up to it if you wanted, but you also know there is simply no getting inside. There isn't even a little window to peak through, so it's really not worth the effort. You shrug and move on.
Our minds do a horrible job of enforcing a "Do Not Enter". It does not matter who placed it there. Sometimes they even bring the door to us and wave it around a little bit as a reminder of everything behind it that we simply cannot have anymore or ever again.
I suppose to degree I ran into both of those this evening. Fortunately I was able to turn away with little effort. Perhaps I actually am learning..
Captured At:2352