Traveling Hiccups

I made a trip home to Florida this weekend to see my parents and honestly, to just take a break. Florida is still the same; it's still warm, it's still beautiful (I was met with an astonishing sunset over the water on my first night back), and everyone still seems to move at a relaxed, and steady pace. But, while I could write forever about the trip itself, I have decided to limit this post to my travel yesterday evening.

I've done quite a bit of traveling over past couple of years and I've come to learn that the only thing you can predict about air travel is its unpredictability (big shocker, huh?). You can take all the precautions in the world-you can smash all your stuff in a small suitcase and carry-on in order to not deal with baggage claim, you can leave for the airport with plenty of time to try and avoid traffic, and you can even park in terminal parking in order to make both your departure and your arrival less stressful and less rushed, and things still might not turn out the way you wanted them to. You can still wind up in bumper-to-bumper traffic, you can still be met with the airport's version of Disney World while waiting for security, and your plane can still be delayed for hours for any number of reasons. So, as I've come to realize this, I've also tried to travel calmly even when things don't work out the way I planned. There's nothing I can do about it, really. That doesn't mean I'm not anxious as hell if my flight is delayed and I have a connecting flight to make, but luckily this time around I was graced with a non-stop flight, and so I didn't allow its delay to bother me much. I could have been stuck sleeping in a terminal in some strange city instead, so I realized I had it pretty good.

After hearing of my flight's delay, I resigned myself to the idea that I wouldn't be getting as much sleep as I would have preferred that night (lately a lot of my life revolves around the amount of sleep I expect to receive) and I calmly waited to board the plane.

After arriving in Dallas much later than expected, I found most of the airport deserted. I wished that I was meeting a friend or relative instead of having to lug my suitcase down the empty airport halls in search of a way to the correct terminal (where I had left my car several days before). But I still remained calm-ish. You would think that an empty airport would seem somewhat peaceful in contrast to its normal often over-crowded state bustling with travelers rushing from here to there. But honestly, it was somewhat eerie, somewhat spooky. The restaurants and stores were closed, bars were draped over the doors, and the lights seemed dimmer than usual.

I left my fellow travelers at their baggage claim, and made my way to the skylink at the upper level of the terminal. Having never really traveled through Dallas (I've only ever really arrived or departed from DFW), I wasn't aware of this skylink but had heard tell of the shuttle. This "tell" came in the form of advice from my father instructing me to use the safest mode of travel between terminals. I rode the escalator alone, boarded the shuttle alone, and walked to an exit alone. Every once in a while (thank goodness) I saw a passenger or two waiting on an early morning flight, or someone emptying a trashcan. I continued walking through the terminal from exit-to-exit trying to find one that was open. I had always thought of an airport as a place that was difficult to get into, not one that was difficult to get out of. I finally found one that was open, exited, and walked toward the parking garage.

I then proceeded to walk around the garage for about 30 minutes (no joke) looking for the car that I was sure was parked in terminal A, level E, and row 22. I could even picture the sign in my head. But as I walked around the garage, down one set of stairs and back up another, I couldn't even find level E, let alone find my car. I walked back toward the terminal (now on the level below and several gates down from where I had originated) and tried to find someone to ask. There was no one official in sight, and really, what did I expect to ask them? "Um, excuse me. Would you possibly be able to help me locate my car? It's black and I'm sure (well almost sure) that it is parked at this terminal. I could describe to you where it was parked." HAH!. Really, I guess I just wanted someone to be traipsing around this dimly lit parking garage with me instead of wandering around aimlessly alone. At this point, the calm persona that I adopted earlier in the evening had vanished and left in its place a much more panicked, tired, and lonely version of myself.

Eventually, after trying to re-trace my steps in my mind of when I parked the car in the first place, after crossing the entrance ramps to the terminal on foot, and after reaching another parking garage further down, I finally found level E and found my car at terminal A (yes that's right), level E (yes that's right) and row 33 (no, that's totally wrong). Apparently I should have written down exactly where my car was parked and for the future reference, probably should draw up a map of the garage in relation to the terminal, or at the very least leave myself a trail of bread crumbs or something. I mean, really.

But I made it back in one piece...my heart was beating a little faster than normal, and it was a little later than I had originally intended, but I was no worse for the wear.

Okay, that's it I guess. My experience wasn't bad...but it was certainly a mini-adventure. I hadn't written in a while...so I just thought I'd share. When I thought about writing about this last night, I envisioned a much shorter entry...but my blogging seems to be unpredictable as well. Either that, or I'm just long-winded.

Not Knowing

I don't know. Those three words have inched their way into my vocabulary quite a lot lately. It's only slighlty amusing that the phrase has become more prevalent after I have received a college education, and subsequently, a degree. But nonetheless, it seems to be a running theme in my life lately, and therefore will probably be a running theme in this blog. Most of you who read this have already born the unfortunate brunt of my "i don't know syndrome" and have been forced to listen to me babble on and on about my uncertainties. I find (and you probably do as well) that I tend to use this phrase when nothing else seems to fit, or when i'm not sure how to phrase what I'm thinking, or when I have the ability to express my thoughts but lack the courage. When there are so many things up in the air, it's hard to really "know" anything. While there are things that I know for certain (things like...I'm scared of the grates on city sidewalks and I want to like coffee more than I do) there are also things that I've come to realize over the past few years...and even the past few days.

Let me share a story with you....

We’ve been interviewing candidates to replace me as I move up the ladder in the company (a ladder that I hope not to be climbing too long) and this has aroused some suspicion among the agents in the company. The last time interviews were held, their old CSC left and was promptly replaced with a new one…me :) So a lot of people have approached me and asked if I was leaving. But the best part is that they actually looked WORRIED that I might leave...they actually expressed disappointment at the thought of me going. ME??!!! They like me. They really, really, like me. That makes me smile. That makes me satisfied.

Granted, real estate investment is not what I want to do with my life, and being a glorified receptionist, agent support trainer, marketing coordinator, and brokerage administrator is not necessarily what I would call a passion (or more appropriately my passion), but in order to be satisfied on a day to day basis at work, it seems that I don't need much. I guess I want to be needed, and I want to feel like I'll be missed if I leave. I guess that's selfish, but I've realized it all boils down to me wanting to help people. I remember taking a personality test at the reccommendation of a friend, a friend who pegged me immediately as a "helper." He hit the nail right on the head, I guess I feel like I don't know a lot about my future...but I do know that about me...I want to help.

So, I guess I "know" that I want to be needed. I "know" that I have been at my happiest when I have been my busiest, when I'm planning events and running organizations, when I've felt like I've helped someone. "I know" that whatever I do with my life, I hope (and need) to feel like I've made some sort of difference...however small. By helping someone, I don't necessarily mean that I have to save the world, or solve hunger, or clothe the needy, or tend to the sick, but to help someone in my own way...whatever that means. It might mean just doing whatever job I have to the best of my ability and therefore "helping" an office or a company to run smoothly. It might mean teaching a schoolroom of children or even having a child of my own and being both wife and mother some day (some day very far away). It might mean working at a University somewhere across the country, or it might mean working as a high school counselor, and being able to listen to other people's problems. Or, it might mean something else entirely. But I do also "know" that in order to help someone else, I need to first find a place of work where I'm comfortable. I need to find a job where I'm happy, or at least on the road to happy. And in the meantime, I need to find the happy in the present and focus on that. That's what I know.

Tangents

You see what happens? I have every intention in the world to write, and write often. But, for some reason, three weeks go by without a single post. Funny though, it doesn't seem like three weeks has passed since I last posted, I guess time is moving faster than I thought. Isn't that how it always is? Well, it is for me anyway (at least recently). Time seems to move like molasses but then one day I look up and a month or two, or a year or four, has elapsed in what feels to me like the blink of an eye.

I began to write this morning not because I had something life-altering to share with you all, or some momentous discovery about where my life is headed, but instead to describe to you how ridiculously uneasy (apparently) I feel here at my place of work. One would think that after what, almost six months at Marcus & Millichap, I wouldn't feel out of place; I wouldn't feel jumpy or nervous. Instead, I would feel at home, or at least "at work" :)

I get along with most of the people here at work, I enjoy talking to them when we do, and I like hearing about their lives. I especially like hearing about the lives of people who are married, and people with children. Maybe it's because their lives are so much different than mine. Maybe I envy where they are in life, maybe I envy how sure they seem to be, how confident, and how wise. I don't know if any of our relationships will ever go beyond the workplace setting, but they're kind enough, and they're polite enough, and some of them are genuine enough to garner my admiration, my attention, and my respect. Funny, it appears that I care about, or at the very least value, the people here at work more than I thought. They have become part of my daily routine, and although I still long for the kinds of friendships that I have been spoiled with over the past few years, it seems that I am becoming more comfortable with the idea of having casual acquantainces and with the realization that these casual acquantainces just might turn into friends if given enough time. I suppose what frustrates me about this job is just that...the job. It's not necessarily the people (well most of the people) or where I'm working (downtown is lovely), but just what I'm doing, and how useless I feel.

You see how easily distracted I am? I intended to write this morning about how I jump about ten feet in the air whenever someone sneaks in (okay, simply walks in the room when I'm not looking) to say hello. For example, picture me reaching to get something from the top shelf of a cabinet or crouching to get something from a bottom drawer and then picture boyd: a 50-ish year old tiny balding man, who is very friendly but very sneaky, walking down the hall. He pokes his head in to say hello and by the amount of noise I make, how startled I am, and how high I jump, you would think that he was a mugger in New York City instead of a loan originator with grand kids who dances with his daughter's drill-team at the halftime of her high school football games. You might even believe that we were in a grungy, dimly lit alleyway instead of a copy room illuminated by fluorescent light bulbs located on the 3rd floor of a secured office building in downtown Fort Worth. I mean really, why am I so jumpy all of the time? Maybe I just have a tendancy to be on edge, maybe I have a jumpy personality. If you have any insight to offer, please feel free.

Well, then. That was the reason I intended to write this morning but I bet you got a whole lot more than you bargained for when you began reading. Who am I kidding, I got a whole lot more than I bargained for when I began writing. And on that note, I will leave you for now.

Roadblocks....Or In This Case, Mindblocks

Honestly folk, I'm having a difficult time beginning another entry in this blog. It's not that I'm lacking material, nor am I lacking the desire to write. Instead I am lacking the conviction... or the confidence...I'm not sure. I wish I was gifted with a more striking ability to translate my thoughts into words... I wish I didn't have such a strong censor within myself that seems to keep me from freely expressing what comes to mind. I guess everyone does, and I guess that the barrier can break down with time. Maybe I'm losing sight of what the blog is supposed to be for...it doesn't necessarily have to be a journal for others to read...it doesn't necessarily have to only contain my thoughts and feelings on the world and on my life. Maybe it can simply be a breakdown of what happens day to day, and week to week. Or maybe it can be a combination of the two. So, if you could bear with me while I get a handle on this whole blogging world, I would appreciate it.

Maybe I will try to include a lyric every once in awhile to accompany my thoughts. Sometimes it is frustratingly beautiful how eloquently other people can express the thoughts and feelings that I can't even begin to put into words. If I tried, my words would be messy and inadequate. So, maybe when my own words don't seem appropriate, I will pad them with the words of people whom I admire.

So here goes...


The words are small and insignificant
Confused and cliche
I saw my promise and potential
Through my guilt and my shame
I couldn't catch that in a couplet
On my best goddamn day
My tied tongue tumbles on

-Kevin Devine

I promise I listen to music other than that of Kevin Devine. His words just seem to fit.

I hope the newness of this doesn't wear off too soon. I am going to try my best to not let my good intentions fall by the wayside, and to keep writing as frequently as possible. I might even wind up writing too frequently...at which point, please give me an electronic slap in the face via the comment section. But, have heart, when the days at the office are slow, and I'm sitting in front of the computer, what else am I going to do?

Good Intentions...and New Beginnings

Before I graduated this past May, some friends and I were sitting around talking (and not talking) and dancing around the truth that loomed ahead of us...the fact that change was inevitable, and fast-approaching. We tossed around the idea of beginning our own individual blogs in order to make it easier to keep up with each other and to temper the callousness of change and the pain of separation. While I embraced and supported the idea wholeheartedly, and my intentions were genuine, I clearly lacked the follow-through. I wish I could say that I purposely waited in order to gain the much "wiser" perspective of a person eight months out of college, a person eight months into the real world, but I would by lying. And honestly, I don't feel wiser. If anything, I am more confused when it comes to where my life is heading, and even with where I want my life to be heading.

I don't know what made me want to start writing...it is probably another whim that I will hopefully not give up on. Putting pen to paper is one thing (metaphorically speaking, of course, since this is via type)...but when I write about my life, I'm putting a part of my heart on the page, and the idea of having that available for others to read is foreign to me. But, its kind of exhilirating, too. I've become a lot more open and a lot better with sharing bits of myself over the past few years, and maybe this is another step in that direction... a "new beginning" if you will. Although the title would probably have been more appropriate coming straight out of college, I guess you could say this is a new beginning as well, much smaller and less daunting, but new nonetheless.

At this point in my life, I am uncertain about a lot of things, but I am damn certain that I want to keep in better touch with people, especially the ones that mean the most to me. I don't know how this will help me keep in touch with everyone else, unless we all jump on the blog bandwagon, but at least I'm making it easier for you all...and that's a start.