October 4, 2009
Priorities don't mean anything unless you act in accordance with them. I recognize my own frequent failings at adhering to any I attempt to set, but some things simply shouldn't be compromised.
So when the alarm went off for the second time I stopped hiding under my covers and slowly pushed myself toward life. I smiled inside at the feel of autumn that rushed through me as I walked toward Loki. The roads to the church were almost as empty as the ones between Cape Canaveral and Melbourne had been five hours earlier, and they reminded me how much I like quiet mornings.
I think my home group had one of the most crowded tables at the conference. We spent the next six hours listening to the speakers and discussing how we could apply their short teachings to our regular time together. It was exciting to watch the ideas flow and observe how the group interacted. The growth that had already happened and the growth that it was evident was still going to take place were encouraging.
But...
It seems I have always been challenged with this group in ways I dislike. I was tagged as somebody who has been around a while, but the truth is that my attendance and involvement has been sporadic due to a schedule I don't get to set. At first it was classes that somehow always landed on Thursday nights. I welcomed their end only to have an even more horrendous travel schedule than usual take over.
I didn't mind the travel when all I wanted to do was run away, but I've come to hate how it prevents me from developing any semblance of a "normal" life. You can't make friends with people when you're never around. You can't develop healthy life habits when you aren't given enough time in one place to form them. You can't commit your time when it's clear you don't own it. Even when at home I have no consistency in the hours I spend in one place or the next.
Not too long ago I came to the realization that before I could have anybody in my life I needed to have a life somebody would want to be part of. I should be "growing up" and attempting to cultivate that life right now, but there is no allowance for it. What I have affords no room for anything else, and the few people that wanted to somehow be close anyway have been closed off out of necessity.
Yet people on the outside think I have things pretty good. I work at a cool place. I get paid to bounce all over the country and, occasionally, the globe. I'm well educated. I'm financially stable in challenging economic times. Clearly I must have a great life.
I'm not ungrateful for any of those things, but I don't find contentment in them. I never believed they could bring it and reality is confirming that they don't.
I wonder often what the real lesson from these experiences is supposed to be. At the risk of sounding arrogant, what have they told me that I don't already know? When does that "a-ha!" gem finally appear that explains what all of this garbage has been for? And how much longer can this set of circumstances last? I look toward the end of the year with hope and expectation of a fulfilled promise, but does a calendar flip from 2009 to 2010 really mean the stress will magically decrease and the schedule will suddenly be more manageable?
For now I just have to keep doing the best I can with what I've been given. I have to accept that my upcoming travel series means I can't join my home group in most of the things they're planning for this month. I have to throw away homecoming announcements and decline invitations to building dedications because the place that once owned me has to fall behind the one it led me to that now has control. I have to tough out days alone in one of the last places I want to be as life continues joyfully here without me.
And I will fight with everything in me to not let it get me down; to continue hoping for and believing in the best; to continue pushing forward even when I'm not sure how because it's the only direction to go. Priorities don't mean anything unless you act in accordance with them. I still want a win.
Captured At:1203
October 7, 2009
Was what happened a good thing? In some ways, yes. But it is also infinitely more complex than I seem able to explain to anybody. Add one more item to the list of things that make me tired these days. The desire for flight seems to get stronger with every sun I survive.
That feeling isn't what motivated my trip home, but I'm glad to be taking it. I've resolved to check my email no more than once a day if that. Part of me is nervous about cutting myself off so completely, but I've begun to see how badly I need to do it. While I may not be able to control my circumstances I can at least work on how wide of a reach I'll allow them to have.
How does one survive bouncing through 4 states on opposite sides of the country over a two week period? One leg at a time. And though it all seems a bit daunting at times, I was given a slightly different perspective on all of it than I had previously considered that makes me more optimistic. God is pretty good like that and I love the food for thought he sends. I remember a time when travel opened my eyes. These days I seem to close them as soon as I have to think about setting foot on a plane. I want back the perspective I used to have. Now seems as good a time to rediscover it as any.
Captured At:2305
October 18, 2009
The visit with my family was lovely for no other reason than that we were together. I didn't want to leave, and I certainly did not want to do so for a destination with negative associations. I was angry with Virginia Beach from the moment the flashbacks began in ORF; it responded with 50 degree temperatures, rain, and an uncooperative hotel room. The visit had some redeeming qualities in the things it taught and reminded me - which I may or may not write down later - but the point of greatest elation remained switching my flight to leave a night early.
While the chill seems to have followed me south, the internal clouds did not. As I waited at the park yesterday I relaxed on one of the benches thinking that if all I did that day was lay there listening to the fountain and the kids and the wind through the trees, I could be content. I could find no reason for complaint getting off of the bench either. The walking and playing was nice, the ducks and turtles were happy to be fed, the sea monster (who I've named George) was creepy.
And every time I go outside I wonder why it is that I don't spend more time there. I think I'd like to re-cultivate the habit when I return from my next trip - a hop to California that I cannot believe is two days away.
As I think more about yesterday and conclude that it alone was more full and better used than most weekends I have, I see today for what it is: wide open with no unmet obligations, challenging me to add more things of value to what I was already so generously given. I wonder what I'll do first.
Captured At:1132
October 27, 2009
Wow's Wanted
I remember early on in my days with NASA having a discussion with my director about the launch viewing habits of the KSC workforce. At that time I was shocked to discover there were people on center who made no effort whatsoever to watch as we catapulted another seven fragile humans beyond the atmosphere. I looked him squarely in the eyes and told him, "If I ever do that, somebody needs to fire me because clearly I don't get it anymore."It's a sentiment that has stuck with me. Just five days ago I sat in a brew pub telling my mentor that he has me for as long as I believe in our mission. The day to day tasks may not be the most exciting around, but the ultimate goal is something I clearly feel a passion for. When I stop caring, I will go and let somebody take my place whose enthusiasm makes them more deserving of it.
Some would consider it enthusiasm that motivated me toward the space center at midnight to watch the rollout of our prototype rocket last week. Within 12 hours I would be on a plane headed west, but in the hours I spent waiting and snapping pictures the timeline didn't matter.
The problem is that my presence had little to do with being excited about the rocket. I strongly support our exploration goals. I love talking about them and sharing them and watching them come to life. It is apparently - as I was told following several grey days in Virginia - wonderful seeing me "in action". But the enthusiasm ends there.
Like Ares 1-X itself, I struggled quite a bit with launch this morning. I was torn between feeling like I should watch and not really caring. The part of me that was marginally interested both feared and hoped for the vehicle's failure. The internal struggle felt miserable. I had to wonder what happened that I had gone from "If I stop watching, they should fire me" to "Does it make me a bad person if I just don't care about this launch?"
And there were plenty of options for the root cause of my apathy. Perhaps playing at slightly higher levels of the program had jaded me. The Ares guys have been a fairly consistent source of frustration in our area; what better way to adjust their perspective on things than their design failing? Or maybe I was still bummed that my opportunity to feel like I'd had a small piece of the mission was taken away when I was thrown into my current job. Maybe I was resentful of the people who did get to work it as I slogged through one of the more painful growth processes life has handed me thus far. It was also possible that the schedule I'd had to keep finally wore me down to the point of indifference. Of them all, the last option seemed the most dangerous.
But no matter how hard I tried to make myself accept responsibility for my emotions, none of the rationalizations stuck. There was still a voice in my head quietly reminding me that I was excited about a high-level mission yet consistently uninspired by the method of transportation we had chosen to accomplish it. Ares V was sure to rattle the Earth like nothing we'd seen in a while, but Ares I?
I learned many things about the shortcomings of the shuttle early on at Kennedy, but that didn't change my response a bit when I watched one roll out of the VAB for the first time. I felt awed and humbled and inspired; both bigger for being in an enviable physical location and smaller from the scale of the vehicles I stood next to. The child-like giddiness inside of me overflowed onto everyone around. I look at a shuttle and go "wow" every single time.
The Ares 1-X vehicle is one of a kind; the first prototype of the design our future is counting on. There are already differences between the configuration it represents and how the actual components are coming together. Standing outside the VAB that night marked a moment in history that would never again happen and I would have a story to tell about it someday. But seeing the best notion we have of an assembled Ares vehicle did one thing more than any other: confirm how unimpressive it was. Sure it was tall, but that was about it. And when I finally got a look at it on the pad I saw just how much it shrinks next to the 600ft. towers that make up the new lighting protection system. It really does look like a toy.
No matter how hard I try I can't make myself feel inspired when I see what Ares will be. And I just can't get excited about the prototype of a prototype of a new rocket that, given current politics, will likely never fly. Even if the "Program of Record" continues, Ares just doesn't look right. It doesn't feel right.
Maybe the Apollo-era guys felt the same way watching the Saturn V replaced by the Shuttle as I do watching this next generation slowly come online. Next time I find one I'm going to make it a point to ask. In the meantime, though, I suppose I'll continue fighting to remember the big picture. The rocket may seem about as exciting as my budget planning right now, but they're both pieces of a larger goal that I do believe is worth something. If that truth isn't enough to push me through until the "wow" returns, I don't know what is.
Captured At:2325