New Year, New Life

Welcome to 2010!

I haven't thought about this new year at all. 2009 was a very consuming year for most of us, I think. The dreaming, looking to the future, the moving forward, on and up, was forgotten a bit. Each month of this year took concentration and determination, and I feel like my thoughts are still screwed into that shape of a concerned forehead and squinting eyes.

I would never deny I've certainly had an easier time than very many this year--I've celebrated life-changing joys (marriage is just wonderful, full time work is almost as good) and had almost nothing to complain about (it turns out). Still, I'm ready to relax my mind eye's furrowed brow.

For 2010, I want to build. Fuller, taller, deeper, longer. To sense more, to discern, to learn, to execute new decisions, to abundantly augment our experience and heighten our impact. After all the consternation of 2009 and the robotic focus it took to grind it out, I'm ready to apply myself in the whole of our own epoch with vitality.

This will take focus and concentration, to be sure, but of a much more fulfilling variety. Welcome 2010!

A Couplet of Office Free Verse

Casual Week at the office.

Jeans at work are marvelous, but
these people's jeans are nicer than my business-professional wardrobe. Chose between pairs with hole-in-knee, hole-in-rear, and fly-that's-broken-and-is-held-together-with-visible-safety-pin. Bingo!


The lesser of two evils.

Shuffle into the office kitchen, hopes
high.
Alas, no tasty morsels left for scavengers. Move on
to the coffee machine. Office coffee or instant coffee?
A great dilemma.

It's the window

I do believe my outlook would change if I had a window with a view. For one thing, I'd be much more prone to go home at the end of a workday. When you see the sun come up, go over, and come down as you work through your day, it certainly starts to feel like the end of the day when it is, indeed, the end of the day.

Something about flourescent lights creates such a dry feeling of status quo and permanence. Something about the out-of-doors creates...not that. You see where I'm going here?

October, nope, November 5, 2009

Gorgeous day in Chicago. Yes--cold, true, but SUN SUN SUN. I think that while in Tucson the sunset on the mountains, or monsoon thunderstorms, or the expanses of poppies in the spring across the desert floor bring us closer to our maker, here in Chicago it's the days when you squint for a second when you walk outside that bring out that unparalleled joy and gratitude. As someone who was entirely spoiled by warm weather and almost invariably clear skies, I will never take these days for granted again. I don't think many things compare to the desperate joy produced by sunshine as we roll into winter, or more so when we crawl out of it into spring.

Sage Advice

About a year and a half ago, and old man with a cane walking out of an Olive Garden after an early bird dinner gave me a piece of solid gold advice I've never forgotten. I've tucked away this nugget for all of these months, and endured a fair amount of scoffing from those who are close to me in order to remain steadfast to carry it out in good time. Tonight was the night, and it was such good advice that I wish I could go find the man and vigorously shake his hand. I'd go to the Olive Garden; I'd search Orland Park metropolitan area if it made any sense at all.

I can't do that. All I can do is pass it on, spread the joy, and encourage the experience like that man did for me. What I'm saying is, see The Bucket List. See it. This time next week you'll be calling, saying, "Where was the Olive Garden where you found that old man? How do I get there from 94?"

How I know my parents are A-Okay

My parents are in the first two years of an empty nest. Since all of us girls are so far away, I worry about them sometimes. I've stopped worrying.

Saturday was my first bridal shower. It was all family, hosted by my dear aunts on my mom's side. It was so touching and fantastic, and there were many moments that made me well up a bit. My mom wasn't there of course, and she was the only missing part.

So she calls on Sunday, and I'm ready to spill about the great family time and to thank her for the tear-jerking toast she had Deborah read. Instead she says, "Okay, well, I just wanted to call and say we're at the Folk Music Fest downtown, and we're listening to a guy sing a song called Guacamole! Ha ha! He's all 'Ay yay yay Gua-ca-mol-ay!' Ha ha! We thought you would like that. Okay bye!"

I did like that, by the way. :)

Video Game Mode

It's been a long time since I spent a Saturday morning watching someone play video games. Probably, mm, three years. In the thick of college. Three years ago though, this was a very familiar situation, so I know how to adapt. This time I have light pouring in the windows, which is a sharp contrast to the dimly lit dorm room or basement, and a full kitchen at my disposal, so I'm not trapped eating last night's 2 AM candy for breakfast (as delicious as that was).

Brian doesn't play video games that much, but it was his birthday this week, and FIFA 2009 was on the list. His video game mode is intriguing; he plays with a concentration unparalleled in his every day activities. In conversation-mid-play, he tilts his head, lifts his chin, turns his shoulders toward you but can keep his eyes trained on the screen, controlling 11 different characters at one time in the 3 square feet of sporting competition. He may nod, laugh, respond to you otherwise, but there is an intangible stream from the TV funneling through his eyes, soaking his brain, draining through his neck and into his arms, translating into nothing but his flying thumbs. And the hat-grabbing after an unbelievable play.

This may sound so very mundane that you quit reading; I apologize. Video games are ultimately boring to me as well. I'm just happy to be at a point in my life where though I'm watching video games on a Saturday morning, I have the freedom to make myself some coffee with cinnamon sugar toast and muse about it. My video game mode is really quite relaxing.