March 4, 2009
...they're just living in my head
I'm not sure which flicker of an electron made the name come to mind. I don't understand the force that motivated me to hit the search engines as if they could really offer some clue. I wonder what it is I was expecting to find.These statements will probably never find answers. Nor will the myriad questions that appeared from a peripheral glimpse of a memory.
In times such as these one would think getting and being and staying connected would be easy. I suppose it is...unless people were lost to you too soon. And when the name appears, this one always fits into that category.
I don't remember the last conversation we had, though only one possibility comes to mind. I remember the news I received and the transitions taking place. I recall very little of my piece, but I could probably make some guesses. One life was getting started, one world was either falling apart or just about to. It seemed we always bonded more in troubled times.
The good times were also pretty good. I'm remembering the layout of a dorm room whose details are long forgotten. I'm remembering late nights lost to I don't even know what. And I'm wondering why it is that our relationship was so segregated. How could we have existed apart so often yet still felt the absolute best of friends when together? Suddenly that little corner room seems an oasis in the drama of an innocent freshman life.
I still wonder sometimes how things would have been different without that loss after the first year. What would have happened if my best friend had come back? Would I have ever gone on to do the things that got me where I am today? When would it have ended? Could there ever have been an option to pick up the phone and ask the things about his life I wonder the most?
These questions are pointless, but lack of purpose has never stopped my mind before. I find it strange to miss somebody I haven't seen in years. At the same time I take comfort in the memories of a very different life. And if that's the safe place I'm given for now, I'll take it until the world levels out.
Captured At:2124
March 8, 2009
More Disjointed Thoughts from an Ever Wandering Mind
It feels earlier than it actually is. Daylight Savings time is tricky that way. Initially I was a bit unhappy that I would be losing an hour this weekend, but I've found my peace with the change. Really, it was probably for the best.I've heard some people talk about the experience of sitting in church and feeling needled by the sermon. Not in a bad way, just in one that says "Pay attention. This one's for you." I can't really relate, but sometimes I see more relevance in what we are being taught than others. This weekend's reminder to rest was a good one.
My first few moments with Thursday told me fairly clearly that I would not make it through another day. For the second time in three weeks I took Friday off. I believed the day was likely to go to homework. I was wrong. Somehow I lost an entire day to my couch, laptop and pajamas, doing who knows what until I looked around and realized it was dark. Part of me felt bad about the lack of productivity. Part of me didn't care.
Since that first Friday off I had been running flat out. I'd log the expected 20 hours per week on my project during Saturdays and Sundays alone, but the progress was questionable. The days at the office started earlier and still went just as late as they always had. Every single one brought some new challenge I had never encountered before. I would get home mentally and emotionally exhausted, then still try to put more time into the project. I had a church study that was getting less attention than it should and everything else was flat out being neglected. I was doing exactly what I had said at the beginning of the year that I could not do.
Yeah, it's no wonder my day off was literally spent on nothing.
Saturday was a slow climbing back up. Yoga and cooking real food were good for me. I was still mentally unprepared to dive too much into the project, but I tried. I went to my study, stuck around for service, and took it easy for the rest of the night.
And what a beautiful morning I woke up to. I forget sometimes how much I like those early hours before the world gets crowded and crazy. I walked the causeway to the beach and sat on the railing watching the sun rays and surfers and lazy waves. It was a nice pause before the two mile walk back to Milo.
For as much as I see the world around me I also get lost in my head quite a bit more than I would like. I watched my focus shift on the walk; noticed the changes in posture and field of view as I would alternate between the internal and the external. But I loved the time outside and the drive back up US-1 to go home.
The entire journey this morning was accompanied by a very distinct feel to the world that I know well. It energizes me and it calms me. Yet it also makes me a little sad because I have consistently failed at decoupling it from the influence of those who brought it so sharply to my attention. Ironically enough the absence also provides a sense of presence. I had it on that railing as Pat Monahan made mention of the ocean I was watching.
I still think about the things I would say if conversation were possible. Some, I am certain, would bring pride. Others, definitely disappointment. And I think we'd laugh like we always could and cry like we sometimes had to. The full spectrum of life was always so clear, so fragile, so painful, so wonderful. And as challenging as the experience has been, even today I can still see reasons to believe I am better for it. I will never know if that sentiment is one-sided, but I sincerely hope it isn't.
And now, with noon behind me and hundreds of mental miles traveled, I somehow feel better equipped to pursue Europa. 30 days to go.
Captured At:1138
March 14, 2009
Plot it out in Black and White
Somewhere in conversation this week I was asked about my five year plan. I laughed a little as I responded that I don't have one. My answer was met about how I expected: with a response that I should. I'm all too used to conversations like it.I remember a pair of girls I knew freshman year who got into the "five year plan" discussion with me. One, a chemical engineering major and ROTC student, seemed sure she'd be married to her Navy boyfriend and off in the Army somewhere. The other, who was pursuing her marine biology degree, lost me after she opened with the phrase "After I build up my reputation at Sea World..." They were grand ideas for a world I'm not sure either considered as being immediately after graduation, and the girls were completely baffled when I didn't have aspirations of my own to share. I tried to explain why, but it didn't matter. They couldn't understand.
I have an ex-boyfriend who knew exactly what he wanted in his life and the time line on which it should take place. He knew how old he wanted to be when he married, how much land he wanted to build his house on, how many children he wanted and even their gender and what their names should be. He checked his stocks and the balance in his bank account multiple times a day, probably feeling he'd be in a good position to settle down on schedule. All he really needed was the girl. I think it should surprise no one that I wasn't it.
Plans bring direction and structure and, for many, comfort. I won't pretend I don't wish at times that I had some idea what the heck it is I was doing or trying to do. Being at the mercy of the wind is not for the faint of heart and it does get tiresome. At the same time it keeps me open and lets me be receptive to anything that comes my way. There are far better plans for me than the ones I could attempt to create for myself. Experience has taught me that lesson time and again.
I see that most recently in the changes at work. In early February we talked with another group about me spending some time with them on a developmental assignment. They thought Ares-IX would be something good for me to get involved with because I could see just about every aspect of ops for a single mission over the period of a few months. Finally I'd be close to something real. I was looking forward to it.
When they gave me DPV that plan evaporated immediately. A job I believed I was completely wrong for had taken away the one opportunity I had to familiarize myself with a part of the world I've been sure I'll need to know if I hope to be of any real value later on.
And then there's the reality I would be foolish to ignore. Instead of being a spectator for a temporary project where I probably couldn't offer much I was given more responsibility in a program organization I might actually help. I was exposed to a whole other part of the world I didn't quite recognize as being out there, and the knowledge I'm picking up has much broader relevance. My acclimation period has not been easy or gentle, but the change in perspective has uncovered long-standing issues that may not have had a chance at correction otherwise. I think everybody on the team is challenged and, although it may not be in ways we like, I have to believe we'll be better for it. I still worry, but in my heart I know I'm where I actually need to be.
Are there other things I hope to see and do and be in my life? Sure. Do I have any idea how to make them a reality? Nope, not at all. In fact, some are about as close to impossible as one can get. So I really can't worry about them, can I? There is certainly more than enough to occupy me today without dragging 2014 and beyond into the mix.
My idea of a long term goal right now is making it through April 15th. It has been the only real date on the calendar for me all year. I want my team to finish this degree well and I believe we can. After the papers are turned in and the slides filed away I will adopt a new milestone, and it won't be anywhere near five years out. I need something closer - something more tangible, more real - to move toward. I have accepted that it's just how I work. And as long as I know, it really doesn't matter whether anybody else understands.
Captured At: 954
March 16, 2009
Seeing Without Seeing
Sometimes when I sit down to write I know I want to share a story, but have no idea quite how to tell it. Today is one such case. Every so often my memory flits back to a deep lavender sky boasting the brightest star I have ever seen. I remember a day that held surprises as well as disappointments. I remember a lesson I wish I had not forgotten.It began with a seemingly minor joy. The road, mostly empty, stretched north into a cheerful blue sky with a spotting of clouds. My entire body seemed to be smiling as I walked into a Publix on 1 for the sandwich and apple that would be lunch when I reached the Cape. Even before noon the 528 causeway had stoppages. I could fault none of the other vehicles for navigating toward the beach. It was a glorious day, and that alone was enough to fill me up.
But the time in the office would not bring the solitude and sense of drive I had hoped for. Within an hour another coworker appeared and we set off immediately to find a golf cart, play by the railroad tracks, and wave at visitors as they passed our photo session with the "0 days to launch" sign.
Within a few hours we acquired one more coworker. We stood in a darkened office watching the media outside set up cameras for crew walkout wondering why one member of our trio had been refused entry. I heard footsteps and looked into the hall in time to see a flash of astronaut blue and a small Japanese flag. Aki's appearance in the office seconds later was a complete surprise.
We talked a bit, him slightly reluctant to ask if he could take a few pictures out our window and us slightly reluctant to ask if we could take a few pictures with him. People who do amazing things yet remain down to Earth (as ironic a descriptor as that one is in this case) seem such a rarity. I hope that if I ever achieve the right level of success, I, too, can be one of them.
Our new friend from STS-124 left us and we chose to take our chances with security once again. I talked with a pair of interns while the other two, one with Puerto Rican flag in hand, made conversation with a woman also there to cheer on their fellow countryman. Astronaut orange spilled out the door to cheers and shutter clicks and what I can only assume were well wishes from the Japanese media there to see off their newest occupant of the ISS.
Our trio split up, each member with some deluded notion of accomplishing something with our time. When the guys got bored they'd come back only to disappear again. I struggled for progress, writing more in the last 15 minutes before departure about how to not contaminate Europa than I had managed to write in 3 hours about its geology. It irritated me, but only for a moment. I had a launch to catch. And a sunset.
Choosing our viewing location should not have been so difficult. We abandoned the first spot by choice. We abandoned the second when a pair of spectators got in the way. I fought a losing battle with a tripod and a Nikon that was more interested in some nearby trees than the dream about to spring to life just behind them. I don't remember hearing the countdown. I only remember being agitated with the device whose viewfinder my eye was now glued to.
Smoke and cheers snapped my attention back to the event at hand and I clicked away completely ignorant of the fact that I had not reset my focus correctly. What could have been a series of amazing shots would soon reveal itself to be a lesson learned the hard way. If I kept them small, maybe nobody would notice...
I was lamenting the loss of good pictures to my coworkers when the guy with the tripod next to me asked if I had an email address. He was a Grumman guy from CA out here on business who had switched his flight and badge to allow him to witness his first (and most likely only) shuttle launch. Somebody had also been kind enough to get him temporary area access to the processing facilities, which enabled him to join our post-launch "let's kill some time because we don't want to sit in traffic" VAB walkdown.
Our companion for the night reminded me how spoiled I have become. I've forgotten what it's like to stand next to an SRB with a "Loaded" stamp on it for the first time; to stand inside an MLP for the first time; to look up or down on a shuttle stack for the first time...
My return home was shortly after midnight. I left all of my belongings at work - laptop on, books strewn across the desk. And when I finally sat down and stopped moving I realized that, disappointed as I was about the pictures, it had been an incredible day.
I also realized that those pictures had to be lost. I had become so fixated on getting good shots of launch that I was no longer actually stopping to watch it. Launch day had proven to be one where I was alive and excited and...well...completely missing the point, actually.
But yesterday, thanks to technical difficulties, there was a window shortly after Discovery cleared the tower that I lowered the camera in disgust and looked up without it. The pale grey SRB exhaust faded almost completely into its soft purple backdrop making the concept of a shuttle launch seem absurd. Without the trail it was easy to forget that seven men were being carried aloft by the single point of light in front of me. The scene instead was like watching a large, brilliant star using some magic means for a gentle ascension home. I could feel my body trembling from the sound waves, but for me that frozen moment - mere seconds that stretched on forever - are completely silent.
I've seen many of the pictures that will serve as the record for STS-119 and I take comfort in the fact that they are all wrong. Many say it was the most beautiful launch they have ever experienced, but nobody who tried to save it got it right. Nobody captured that rocket as the pointed dot it really was. Nobody did the color of the sky any justice. And nobody has even come close to stirring the emotions I experienced in a long overdue pause to really watch one of humankind's most amazing creations.
Maybe next time I'll leave the camera at home.
Captured At:2112
March 21, 2009
The negatives of being almost completely on your own become most obvious once one starts dancing with the line between well and unwell. I've been standing on it for several days now not fully convinced I belong on one side or the other. As a child my parents would make the call for me. They could clearly tell the difference between real symptoms and those exaggerated by the "I don't want to go to school" bug. I haven't developed that sense yet. If I don't know that I'm genuinely sick, I will press on with what I should be doing. More often than not it's the coworkers who make it clear I've pushed too far.
Good on them, bad on me. Why is it that I cannot trust myself - unfortunately an adult in every sense of the word - to make that decision? If I don't feel well, I don't feel well and that should be it, right?
But this problem extends beyond the occasional necessary day off. My motives for anything I do are always on the interrogation stand. Unless I am completely convinced they are correct, I cannot find peace with any choice I might make.
I'm still thinking about my next steps after I finish this degree up next month. An opportunity has appeared that I had initially been excited about. It seemed like the right material with a respected place that was coming with almost perfect timing. Nothing is guaranteed, but this one gave the appearance of being pretty close.
And then we had lunch yesterday. It wasn't a bad meeting, but I was surprised to drive away with doubt. I had begun thinking about the other options out there - some extreme long shots - wondering how they all fit together. It should be no surprise that I found they just don't, and I couldn't say I was willing to take on this option at the risk of losing the others. It made me question why I'd essentially given up on things I thought I wanted more.
But what is it that I truly want? And once I know it, why does it win? What actually drives the choices I'm trying to make right now?
I suppose the task of finding those answers becomes my item for self-examination over the next couple of weeks. I need to understand my true motives and desires. I need to reach a point where I can trust myself to make the right decisions. Letting people send me home sick is a gentle lesson. The rest of the world may not be so kind.
Captured At: 850
March 25, 2009
I arrived at the office after a successful call in transit. Could it be that I had actually developed an understanding of this new facet to my existence? Amazing.
And the world took every opportunity possible all day to prove me wrong. Again I was frustrated to the point of explosion. The expressions of frustration were minor, but I was not pleased with them. Finally I just got up and walked away.
Outside I attacked the course around the track with a strong sense of purpose and realized the exercise was the first outlet I'd had in weeks. Was my mind racing my feet or were my feet racing my mind? At this point did it even matter?
I remember one moment, walking under the light shade of several trees, where I closed my eyes and found myself on another trail that had become very dear to me years ago. It was simultaneously comforting and sad. A few more paces and an announcement through the PAWS brought my awareness from the New York countryside back to KSC. It is amazing how I can travel without actually going anywhere.
My steps seemed to quicken for the next half lap. Then I stopped, looked up at the trees and remembered the truth. I could never walk it away. The rest of the journey was much slower, much quieter, much more defeated.
Back inside I tried to convince myself that, much like this morning, the pause was necessary. It was my one attempt to do something even remotely positive for me. Somebody has to look out for her, right?
But control is an illusion. My patience and the positive attributes of my character would always vanish at the first sign of the right trigger. My mind would always go farther away than I realized faster than I could catch up with it. It was a consequence of who I am, and who I am would always both accept and reject her very self.
Nobody seems to recognize the complexity of this dance. Nobody seems to realize that for as many things as I have been blessed with, I have been given an equal measure of those things which conflict with them. Nobody understands the battle. It is impossible without being there. And unless somebody actually gets inside my head to recognize what the silence means, I will never make any sense to them. The fight is mine alone.
And that solitary state is just one more thing nobody will ever actually understand...
Captured At:2107