August 3, 2009
Hope at the Limit
"Be nice this time, okay? Pretend you like him. Put your hands like...yeah, that's good." I felt a bit odd following her instructions as I turned to face him, one hand now gently on his chest and the other lower and to his side. What had been fun a few seconds before suddenly seemed the strangest "modeling gig" I'd ever had. Sure I had done it many times before, but I usually didn't touch them like this. They were always just props.For a split second I allowed myself to forget where I was and what I was doing. I looked up to smile at his face and found my gaze locked on his dark eyes tracing the inner circles. Was I looking through him or was he looking through me?
The shutter clicked.
Back at the house we flipped through the day's work and it was clear she'd captured on film what I didn't consider anybody had seen. She teased me for looking totally in love, I insisted she couldn't claim such a thing if she couldn't see my eyes and poked fun at how maybe one day I'd look that happy with somebody real.
But as happy as I look it's somewhat of a sad picture to me. Those days in CA were some of the best I'd had all year, yet in capturing one of those joyful moments all I could see was the reality of everything I have lost. That girl with the statue? I actually recognized her. That's a rare thing for me.
Some of the difficult realities I've had to accept lately are that I have not handled my transitions well. Every major change in my life has been handled poorly and every new change only brings the old issues into more focus. They all take their toll and leave me unable to deny that some part of me is barely there if not gone entirely.
I tried to explain this as we sat in an Istanbul hotel room. He had told me I keep my personal life guarded. I pointed out that there was nothing pleasant in it; that I wasn't alive and how could knowing that I'd changed in such a terrible way not make me upset? And I wondered what choice I'd had in the matter. Did I realize I was making decisions at the time I made them if, in fact, they had existed?
Still, I have to recognize that humans can only take so much. Stretch us in every way possible, give us little to no meaningful support to tackle the myriad challenges appearing and watch what happens.
So after almost an entire month on the road, after complete inability to develop any semblance of a routine or "normal" life after graduation, after half a year of being caught in re-orgs nobody warned me about and assigned leadership of things I have no business hoping to be responsible for, it's no wonder I find myself on the very edge of what I would expect to survive. Sometimes I wish I knew where that little white flag was.
Sometimes, though, I paint things out to be much worse than they actually are. I let the perception of stress take hold when there is no reason for it to. For my own sake I needed to know the truth. So I went into the office. On a Saturday. After I was already two days over my hours for the week. What I left behind is the same thing that greeted me this morning. One look at it and I had a headache.
I call it the "to-do" wall. Every sheet is one major thing I'm somehow responsible for and some of the items on the sheets really should be sheets themselves. As it turns out, the headaches and frustrations and feelings of total exhaustion and impending failure aren't entirely unfounded. That fact was agreed upon when the products of my Saturday were shared. The only words that come to mind are the same I uttered after my first Astrodynamics class two years ago: "I'm screwed, but I'm going down fighting."
At the end of a day with more disorganization on the part of others, more slacking off by the people I need help from, more stupidity in how the rules work, and yet another person dubbing me with a leadership role I didn't feel I had, I felt so overwhelmed I wasn't sure whether to cry or drink myself numb.
I did neither.
Instead I drove past home in the pouring rain and found a grocery store for the first time in over a month. As I pushed a full cart across the puddled parking lot I looked down to watch my steps and felt a slight smile move across my face. I saw the tips of running shoes poking out beneath a pair of jeans damp from being slightly too long for their wearer. The bottom of a light green rain jacket was also visible against the faded blue and something about the color combination just felt relaxing.
Here, too, I found something I recognized. I knew that kid - the one happy and passionate and not afraid to take on much of anything in life. It was a strange angle at which to find her, but I hadn't seen that exact combination of clothing on myself in a while. That's not to say I look like an adult the rest of the time, but the difference in how my own attire made me feel was amazing.
Tonight, although I don't quite understand it and know that it might not last, I feel like it all really is going to be okay. What I have to do in the broadest of senses may not actually be humanly possible, but maybe that's alright. Maybe the important thing is that I try and I trust and I keep my eyes open for the lesson. And maybe, just maybe, my survival will award me with more than rare glimpses of who I once was. Maybe that girl doting on statues and fearlessly tackling the puddles will again find a way to live in this world with me.
Captured At:2353
August 7, 2009
Growth
I'd walked into his office to suggest a change in direction. After reading his draft something told me I had to be the one to send the email, again leveraging an emerging "skill" I'm not certain I want. As I explained what I was thinking I watched a look come across his face that told me something else had entered his mind and received priority. He was smiling and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why."What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You're maturing and it's just really great to watch," he replied, an even bigger grin on his face than before. I laughed.
It was the latest moment of encouragement in a week rife with challenges that I had navigated my way through remarkably well. I'd been able to say the things that needed to be said in a way that was inoffensive but able to get the attention they needed. I accepted my reprimand from HQ (complete with admonishment to my mentor about watching me better), explained my motives without getting defensive, and apologized for an unappreciated move that I sincerely felt was in the best interest of my teams. And on many days, in those useful hours before I suddenly realize my brain is jelly, I was catching on to things and connecting dots and making the right moves in ways that almost made me nervous.
"I'm going to be pretty dangerous if I'm not careful, aren't I?"
"You're being trained to be dangerous."
It was an exciting and terrifying revelation. Power - the ability to influence and intimidate and drive others to submission - has a strange allure to it. The feeling one gets when they have it is thrilling; the damage it creates when misused can be devastating. And it's so easy to be blinded by that thrill...
My anger seems to have toned down quite a bit. When my voice rose this week it was part of the process of putting myself aside to go do the right thing because it was just that - the right thing. And when my active stepping out to try to make good happen was met by attitude and yelling I did not respond with the same. I remained calm. I kept the tone of my voice the same. I made eye contact. I tried to look inside to see what wasn't being said.
I got a hug later for the yelling that had echoed through the walls. "You did great," he told me. "I never heard you once." In that moment I realized that the most difficult combatant I'd had in that building had lost. His negative influence had failed to take me under. I drew no weapon at all and I had won.
That night at home group one of the girls asked for prayer regarding the job she's supposed to start. It's of a very different nature than mine but I knew the concerns intimately. "I don't really feel qualified for it," she said. "I don't even know if I can do some of what they're telling me I have to."
I looked over at her and smiled a little. "I've just spent the last six months in a job I don't feel qualified for. Believe me, you'll get there." I'm not sure she saw how I - somebody who she thinks is a million times smarter than her - could possibly have reason for doubt given the life she believes I have. The words she began to speak clearly gave away her disbelief.
"But she's like top of the ladder and..."
"No, I'm not. I get blown up from above and blown up from below and it's all a huge mess but that doesn't matter. The point is that you'll be okay. It may not be immediate and it may not be easy, but you will get there."
It's only because of what I've struggled through this year that I can say those things to her with confidence. I've been told that I'm being forced to grow at an unreasonable rate. I've groaned much of the way through the process, but to recognize now that the necessary growth actually is happening gives me more reason for happiness and confidence than I feel I've had in a long time. The evidence, though clear, isn't anything I've sought out myself. Other people are pointing out to me everything I need to accept that the promises really are coming true. I can't wait to see the end result.
Captured At:2309
August 16, 2009
Seems Like Forever Between Now and Then...
There was a time in my life where if any "friend" knew one thing about me, it was that I sort of liked those Dave Matthews Band guys. Some agreed they were pretty good. Some teased me for it only to suddenly change opinion when it was clearly the cool group to go see during summer tour season. Some never got it at all while others fed off of my passion and developed their own.Looking back now I cannot recall exactly what flipped the bit from fanaticism to disappointment. I have only vague memories of standing in an amphitheater, calm blues and greens on the stage, surrounded by a lackluster crowd and wondering why I wasn't feeling the music like I should have. I figured I had just changed too much in a year, but in some ways the band had too. The "Stand Up" songs just didn't stand the test of the live shows.
Every year since that moment I considered letting my Warehouse membership lapse. This year it almost did. The grace period for renewal was all that saved me. This year I also considered not even bothering with the first album of new music since that tour. It joined my collection as a birthday present from a coworker and I knew the decision I had made months earlier to try just one more show was probably a good one. I later decided to attend both offerings of the two night run, not just the second. Warehouse was again kind.
So Friday afternoon a friend from the Cape and I headed south for the show I'd gotten tickets for as an afterthought. It was to be his second concert ever, the first having also been DMB on a whim. He knew little of the band, little of the music, and was slowly getting educated on the trip. It's a bit difficult to explain how a band can be so extremely popular without having enjoyed much in the way of radio success. Random facts and answers to what this song or that one meant were much easier. Explaining 41 in the simplest terms possible was much harder than I expected.
They opened that night with the first single from "Big Whiskey". I was thrilled to see the show begin on a happy note even if the true diehards weren't going to approve. For the next two and a half hours I "sang" and "danced" my heart out as the band poured everything they had into the offerings they had chosen. I had to remind my friend on one occasion that the show was up on stage, not there next to him. "You were really into it," he commented as we drove home. All I could do was laugh.
Saturday afternoon one of my college friends and I let the same roads lead us to the amphitheater. Like my companion the previous day he had only seen one DMB show, but he was a fan from way back sure to know their older stuff even if he had not yet heard the new album. We got poured on in the parking lot and didn't much care. We went inside early knowing full well we'd have to figure out how to get his car jumped after we left. We smiled at the proximity of 11th row seats.
These days it seems that hardcore DMB fans rate the quality of a show on the rarity of the songs that are played. The more old or unexpected things the band pulls out, the better. Our set on Saturday didn't necessarily have those kinds of gems, but it included a number of heavy hitters and they never once let the energy die. Carter, their amazing drummer, took over "Two Step" like I'd never heard before and wasn't letting the band get off stage. Boyd, the violinist, played his solo on "Lie in our Graves" with so much emotion you could see the tears in his eyes after his trademark sunglasses disappeared. Dave, when he wasn't dancing like crazy, stood off to the side and watched his band in obvious awe of the musicians he was honored to share the stage with.
That sense of joy and passion and fun is what attracted me to the group 15 years ago. I grinned so big that night my cheeks hurt when I left. There was nothing more I could have asked for.
But what struck me the most didn't come from the high powered show the boards are buzzing about. It was on that first night - the afterthought - about 80% of the way through the main set when I heard the first few notes of my beloved 41. I want to say that I felt or thought something, but all conscious processes were gone by that point. I just remember singing along - crying out at all of the right points with everything I had in me - and realizing there were tears gently sliding down the sides of my face. The instrumental section carried me away, Jeff's sax solo adding a whole new fire that amazed me. After the tune faded out I opened my eyes wondering at what point I had closed them. The show continued as if nothing had happened.
Tonight I see so clearly how much I had needed this weekend. Not to worship at the altar of a handful of musicians or rekindle an obsession, but to spend a few hours with a part of me that I got separated from along the way. I can't explain why, but I truly believe my life is going to be better for it.
Captured At:2138
August 25, 2009
Years Ago Last Night
The emptiness of last night's streets as Loki carried me toward the Cape was surprising. I had expected more people would be interested in catching a night launch, and they may very well have been if it weren't for the 130a timestamp on liftoff. Sane people weren't going to trek that far that late. But, as BNL once sang, "mental health is overrated". So off I went.Once I was close enough to see the pad lights stretching to the heavens my memory dipped back into the first time I had absorbed that sight with my eyes. I remember how struck by their brilliance I had been as we crossed the waterways to Merritt Island from the beaches. At that time I had no idea where we were, but I didn't care. That bright little speck out there - Endeavour, was it? - was the only thing I could focus on.
Sometime days before my best friend, Derek, told me his roommate had gotten a launch pass from his company and invited him and a guest to come along. Derek had a penchant for inviting girls on their adventures who never reciprocated his interest in them so Tom, in his wisdom, suggested Derek invite somebody this time who would actually talk to him afterward. Apparently I seemed a safe bet.
On launch night we made it as far as the parking lot of the Visitor's Complex. We'd only walked half the distance to the building when a stream of people came toward us. "Just turn around," one guy said. "It's scrubbed. Technical problem." We returned to Tom's car disappointed and I watched the bright patch in the distance for as much of the drive home as possible hoping I'd get another chance.
Round two came the next Friday. I met Tom alone at the Cape since his guest couldn't make it and Derek had a commitment to the One Act plays that he couldn't bail on. This time we made it onto the bus and all the way out to the viewing site before a scrub was called due to weather. It wasn't KSC that was the problem; it was the Transoceanic Abort Landing (TAL) site in Zaragoza. Apparently the rain in Spain falling mainly on the plain will destroy your launch plans.
Derek was thrilled about the scrub. I'd teased him enough about missing out on launch because of 3 minutes of stage time that he felt I got exactly what I deserved. The people running the busses hadn't planned to try on Saturday, but their poll of us Friday evening said there was enough interest to have one more go. If it didn't happen Saturday, that was probably it...
I flashed my badge at the guard gate and wished the lady on duty a nice evening. Farther up SR3 I could see the VAB lit up against the storm clouds. The spotlight on Discovery competed with frequent flashes of lightning, but I held out hope that the midnight drive would not be in vain. I dropped my bag in my cubicle, then carried my camera equipment to the O&C outer stairwell in hope of a shot that supported the visions I was reliving.
Even on the third night I had watched Endeavour from a distance. It was tougher to be excited this time around, mostly because of its history of disappointing me. Tom, Derek and I boarded the bus and again rode it past the VAB to the viewing site. There, across the river, was the prettiest spaceship I had ever seen and I walked as far East as the shoreline would allow for a good look at it.
Somehow the extra proximity made all the difference in the world. Suddenly everything felt real and I couldn't contain the giddy six year old bouncing anxiously inside of me. Jumpy with anticipation I looked at Derek and queried with every ounce of that child's innocence and hope, "It's really going to go this time, right?" He smiled.
"I hope so, Beckers."
The time between that moment and ignition is lost to me. My eyes locked onto the pad and they remained there until the Endeavour leaped off of it turning the November nighttime sky to day - the fastest sunrise I had ever seen. My body was shaking slightly (I assumed from the cold) and I traced the vehicle until its shape was no longer recognizable. I remember no sound. Everything in me was being carried to the heavens by a diminishing trail in the sky and I was content to let it. All was right with the world.
The tug at my sleeve and Derek's voice brought me slightly back to reality. "C'mon, Beckers..." I never turned to look at him, just stretched my fingers to the sky insisting, "But...but I can still /see/ it! We /can't/ go!"
Tom was a few steps closer to the exit insisting we had to get back on the bus so it could leave. I knew they were right, but I sighed just the same at the thought of having to tear myself away from the patch of ground that had allowed me to experience something so incredible. I hugged Derek, thanked him for inviting me, and reluctantly followed them to our bus.
When I finally determined the shuttle was no longer visible out the window and had regained the ability to speak, I commented only about the voicemail that had been left on my phone. "My uncle called," I told them. "He wants to know what I want for Christmas." I smiled sheepishly and pointed up through the window. "Can I tell him I want one of those?"
As I carried my camera back to the office post-scrub all I could do was shake my head and smile. I had spent the evening with a lovely memory, but I couldn't ignore the irony of where the story had chosen to leave off. If somebody had told me on that night in 2002 that exactly one year later I'd be meeting with NASA management to discuss my future at KSC, I never would have believed them. The badge clinking in time with my footsteps as I navigated the deserted halls of the O&C spoke to the truth, though. How on Earth had it happened?
The drive home passed as easily as my northward jog had 3 hours earlier. There had been no launch, I had done no real work, my pictures were questionable at best, and if I was lucky, I would get 3-4 hours of sleep before battling the office dragons once again. Yep. Desire had completely overruled sensibility on this one.
And you know what? I could be nothing but thankful that it had.
Captured At:2254