I had the most vivid dream last night. When I was much younger, I kept a journal of all my dreams. It was interesting to read and see what my imagination managed to come up with. Some of the dreams were very life like, to the point where I couldn't tell what was real and what was not. For example, there was the dream, in the midst of a transition to having a step family, that my stepmom was pregnant with the son my dad never had and my room was to be the baby's room. I kept close tabs on my stepmom's stomach in the weeks that followed. Others were clearly my imagination gone wild, with colorful characters and zany places, like the dream I recently had that was set in a new city called "Washingago" or "Chicagington." It was as if Chicago and DC became one city, complete with the Anacostia and Potomac Rivers - and Lake Michigan. Still others gave insight into problems I was working through, offering new perspectives and even solutions.
But last night... I was in the Peace Corps, in a place I knew in Africa. I was a health volunteer, which I listed as my second choice on the application. Lately, I've taken to staring at cute kids in the grocery store more than usual; I love kids and volunteer with kids at a local homeless shelter. There were three cute kids in the dream, one of which I have met in real life, and I was watching them as part of my volunteer work. The earth was dusty and red. My place of work was a simple concrete single-room building. I felt deeply content in the dream with the work I was doing and life in general. When I woke up this morning, I half expected to wake up to the same sounds as in the dream, the sound of a busy African morning. But, alas, what I heard was just the hum of my air conditioner on a normal DC weekend morning.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens
So, not to long after my parents' divorce and my dad's remarriage, my stepsister, sister and me were in the throws of teenager-hood. When I look back, I am really surprised my dad and stepmom lived to tell the tale and be sane people. However, I distinctly remember one Christmas (I was maybe 14) when we all received The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens. A hint, perhaps?
Being an avid reader, I did read the book. The habits made sense: be proactive; begin with the end in mind; put first things first; think win-win; seek first to understand, then to be understood; synergize; and sharpen the saw. When I look back at them today, they still make sense. At work, if I am not constantly being proactive I am not doing my job to the best of my abilities. Actually, all of them can be applied to work and are generally good lessons.
But to my personal life, I am starting to see limitations. For example: begin with the end in mind. Now, let's play that out in a relationship. Say a girl wants to get married. Well, that end is going to scare off 99.9% of her potential suitors. Just to be clear, that's not me, but I've seen girls come at relationships from this approach. Think win-win? Yes. But sometimes in our efforts to think positively, we neglect to acknowledge to ourselves the things that we have lost and the disappointments suffered. Sometimes that needs to be acknowledged before you can step forward. So my point today is balance the cookie-cutter advice with an ability to live in the moment and be fully present. That is something I need to do a better job reminding myself of. An 8th habit, perhaps?
Being an avid reader, I did read the book. The habits made sense: be proactive; begin with the end in mind; put first things first; think win-win; seek first to understand, then to be understood; synergize; and sharpen the saw. When I look back at them today, they still make sense. At work, if I am not constantly being proactive I am not doing my job to the best of my abilities. Actually, all of them can be applied to work and are generally good lessons.
But to my personal life, I am starting to see limitations. For example: begin with the end in mind. Now, let's play that out in a relationship. Say a girl wants to get married. Well, that end is going to scare off 99.9% of her potential suitors. Just to be clear, that's not me, but I've seen girls come at relationships from this approach. Think win-win? Yes. But sometimes in our efforts to think positively, we neglect to acknowledge to ourselves the things that we have lost and the disappointments suffered. Sometimes that needs to be acknowledged before you can step forward. So my point today is balance the cookie-cutter advice with an ability to live in the moment and be fully present. That is something I need to do a better job reminding myself of. An 8th habit, perhaps?
My Kind of Town...
... Chicago is. I just finished spending nearly a week there and I didn't want to go. How come your flights are never delayed when you don't want to go? I spent the week staying with my best friend from my hometown. Her neighborhood is this cute mix of the Midwest and life in the big city. During the day, I had work meetings near the loop so I got to take the CTA and pretend like I lived there. At night, my friend and I met up for Chicago-style fun. The best was going to the lounge for drinks at the top of the John Hancock building. The last time I was there was with my dad for my 16th birthday. I have to say, it hasn't changed a bit. The view of Chicago was amazing. Lake Michigan and the Chicago River are so blue; Trump Tower and a few other new buildings add to the already amazing skyline, and with the sun setting it was perfect.
And, of course, my family is in Illinois so we rendezvoused. My grandpa grew up on the South Side of Chicago. Though I've spent little time there, I feel an affinity for it. Just like your hair color or height gets passed down from your parents, support for the White Sox and the South Side, at the expense of the Cubs and the North Side gets passed down. My grandpa's boyhood home was a few blocks from Al Capone's boyhood home. When I saw him last weekend, he said when he asked his mom if Al Capone was a bad guy, she said "Well, some might say that but he gave good money to the church." Funny.
And, of course, my family is in Illinois so we rendezvoused. My grandpa grew up on the South Side of Chicago. Though I've spent little time there, I feel an affinity for it. Just like your hair color or height gets passed down from your parents, support for the White Sox and the South Side, at the expense of the Cubs and the North Side gets passed down. My grandpa's boyhood home was a few blocks from Al Capone's boyhood home. When I saw him last weekend, he said when he asked his mom if Al Capone was a bad guy, she said "Well, some might say that but he gave good money to the church." Funny.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Jay Girl and the Peace Corps: Round One
The Peace Corps application is in! I am very excited. Much thanks to the friends and family who reviewed my application materials. The part of the whole process that amused me the most was that I had to check "yes" on the following question: "Is any member of your family involved in intelligence activities of the US government?"
I do have an uncle who was in the CIA and another family member is currently in the CIA. Living in DC, there is a degree of intrigue and mystery around the CIA and spies in general. For example, scene: Starbucks. Young woman steps up to the cashier. "I would like a latte, please." Cashier: "Sure, one latte coming right up." Young woman notices a mysterious ear piece behind the cashier's ear. Could she be... a spy?
So I am being a bit dramatic, but in DC you never know what someone knows, who they work for, or what level of security clearance they have. Maybe a friend of yours says she works at a boring company out in Northern Virginia or is going to Russia on vacation. But who's to say that "boring company" is not the CIA or that Russia vacation is not a top-secret work trip?
But, being that the Peace Corps is a government office, checking "yes" alerted a staff member to let me know they had to first determine if this distant relation to a family member involved in intelligence activities made me ineligible for the Peace Corps. After 5 emails with 3 staff people and 2 phone calls, the Peace Corps and I have worked out that, in fact, according to MS 611, I do not have a family relationship that makes me ineligible for the Peace Corps. Good news!
I do have an uncle who was in the CIA and another family member is currently in the CIA. Living in DC, there is a degree of intrigue and mystery around the CIA and spies in general. For example, scene: Starbucks. Young woman steps up to the cashier. "I would like a latte, please." Cashier: "Sure, one latte coming right up." Young woman notices a mysterious ear piece behind the cashier's ear. Could she be... a spy?
So I am being a bit dramatic, but in DC you never know what someone knows, who they work for, or what level of security clearance they have. Maybe a friend of yours says she works at a boring company out in Northern Virginia or is going to Russia on vacation. But who's to say that "boring company" is not the CIA or that Russia vacation is not a top-secret work trip?
But, being that the Peace Corps is a government office, checking "yes" alerted a staff member to let me know they had to first determine if this distant relation to a family member involved in intelligence activities made me ineligible for the Peace Corps. After 5 emails with 3 staff people and 2 phone calls, the Peace Corps and I have worked out that, in fact, according to MS 611, I do not have a family relationship that makes me ineligible for the Peace Corps. Good news!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Brooklyn
One of the benefits of Washington, DC is its proximity to New York City. That is exactly where I headed last weekend. Taking advantage of a sale on the train, it was my first train trip out of DC. I love taking trains. I like the convenience of going from downtown to downtown. There were some pretty views of the Chesapeake Bay and the Eastern Shore of Maryland, plus city views of Philadelphia, en route making for an enjoyable journey.
And Brooklyn... I find it quaint and charming. We didn't even go into Manhattan once I got to Brooklyn. NY-style bagels became my breakfast of champions for the weekend, from my friend's favorite deli. A review in the deli says "As efficient as the soup Nazi, without the attitude." I worked from a funky tea shop on Friday before running to one of those great New York food markets to get dinner for my friend and I. We went out, but really, it was pretty low key. Saturday was a gorgeous, sunny day spent exploring boutiques. I vowed I would come back to Brooklyn more often for shopping. Dinner was at a great Italian comfort food place, the kind that serve impossibly large, yet delicious, portions. Going out to a bar appropriately named porch that had an outdoor patio, my girlfriend and I caught up on life. Sunday I treated myself to the mammoth-sized Sunday Times. Then we wandered around Prospect Park before I caught a late train back from Penn Station. It made for a great weekend.
And Brooklyn... I find it quaint and charming. We didn't even go into Manhattan once I got to Brooklyn. NY-style bagels became my breakfast of champions for the weekend, from my friend's favorite deli. A review in the deli says "As efficient as the soup Nazi, without the attitude." I worked from a funky tea shop on Friday before running to one of those great New York food markets to get dinner for my friend and I. We went out, but really, it was pretty low key. Saturday was a gorgeous, sunny day spent exploring boutiques. I vowed I would come back to Brooklyn more often for shopping. Dinner was at a great Italian comfort food place, the kind that serve impossibly large, yet delicious, portions. Going out to a bar appropriately named porch that had an outdoor patio, my girlfriend and I caught up on life. Sunday I treated myself to the mammoth-sized Sunday Times. Then we wandered around Prospect Park before I caught a late train back from Penn Station. It made for a great weekend.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Out to the Bay
So my great-grandpa brought my family out to Washington, DC back in the 1950's. Though I never knew him, I am beginning to feel more connected to him based on conversations with my great uncle and grandma about him. He was committed to public service and valued our country. On a lighter note, he liked oysters, especially fried oysters, which I love too. He seemed to be full of energy and life, too.
One to speak his mind, he was not to keen on some of his in-laws. When certain folks came to DC to visit he would say to my great-grandmother "I'm going out to the Bay." And he would head out to the Chesapeake Bay to fish. I don't know why, but I have this image of him heading out of town in an 1950s gas guzzler and then fishing on the Chesapeake Bay. That area is beautiful, if you haven't been. Anyway, I like that I am living in the footsteps of my great grandparents, whether I am here in DC or out to the bay.
One to speak his mind, he was not to keen on some of his in-laws. When certain folks came to DC to visit he would say to my great-grandmother "I'm going out to the Bay." And he would head out to the Chesapeake Bay to fish. I don't know why, but I have this image of him heading out of town in an 1950s gas guzzler and then fishing on the Chesapeake Bay. That area is beautiful, if you haven't been. Anyway, I like that I am living in the footsteps of my great grandparents, whether I am here in DC or out to the bay.
The Ups and Downs of Life
So, I generally keep things light on this blog but this was an unfortunate week for a friend. She lost her father. He passed away peacefully after being diagnosed with a terminal disease. While it was unfortunate, she knows he is in a better place. And it was kind of cool to see the outpouring of support she received.
This is the first funeral I've been to in DC. It was held in Brookland, a part of Northeast DC that my great-grandparents used to live in. I had not met her father and it turned out the dynamic African-American woman who officiated the service and the eulogy had not either. And yet, her message was compelling.
Her point was there should be a record of the life you lead, an imprint, emotional DNA left behind that anyone can come in and see. She was left with the task of figuring this man out post mortem and discovered he loved Old Westerns, the Redskins and was a self-proclaimed gadget man. From that she implied he understood good and evil and that good always wins. After all, that is the story of the Old Western. He was faithful; a Redskins fan must be faithful given their ups and downs. And he was curious and appreciated life; hence why he was a gadget man who delighted in figuring things out.
I do know from the stories shared by friends and family in the room that her eulogy was not a stretch, that in fact, he was a good, faithful, loyal man, father, husband and friend. My favorite anecdote shared was a nephew who prefaced his remarks with "Excuse my language" and then talked of his uncle exclaiming "Hot damn, this is good food!" at family holidays. But all those little anecdotes add up to a life and it makes me wonder... what three things would the record show?
This is the first funeral I've been to in DC. It was held in Brookland, a part of Northeast DC that my great-grandparents used to live in. I had not met her father and it turned out the dynamic African-American woman who officiated the service and the eulogy had not either. And yet, her message was compelling.
Her point was there should be a record of the life you lead, an imprint, emotional DNA left behind that anyone can come in and see. She was left with the task of figuring this man out post mortem and discovered he loved Old Westerns, the Redskins and was a self-proclaimed gadget man. From that she implied he understood good and evil and that good always wins. After all, that is the story of the Old Western. He was faithful; a Redskins fan must be faithful given their ups and downs. And he was curious and appreciated life; hence why he was a gadget man who delighted in figuring things out.
I do know from the stories shared by friends and family in the room that her eulogy was not a stretch, that in fact, he was a good, faithful, loyal man, father, husband and friend. My favorite anecdote shared was a nephew who prefaced his remarks with "Excuse my language" and then talked of his uncle exclaiming "Hot damn, this is good food!" at family holidays. But all those little anecdotes add up to a life and it makes me wonder... what three things would the record show?
Friday, August 7, 2009
Sangre de Cristo Mountains
John’s team was not at the camp site. I had been hiking alone for several hours. The idea was to meet John’s team and hike together to the top of Baldy Mountain. Instead, I found myself in the unfamiliar, uncomfortable situation of being completely alone in the wilderness.
Despite my urban Minneapolis life at the time, I had ventured out to New Mexico for the summer, working at a ranch bordering the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Though more familiar with catching the bus, my summer job required me to explore the beautiful land by the ranch on foot.
It was clear rendezvousing that day was no longer an option. The sun was slowly setting. At most I had three hours to get elsewhere on foot before dark. Camping out was not an option. I had no tent, plus having brought extra food to share with John’s team, there was too great a risk of attracting a bear. I pulled out my simple map. Following a path due south, it looked like I would hit Highway 64 before nightfall. While still 20 miles from the ranch, perhaps I could call someone from the lone gas station to get me.
Hearing rattlesnakes hissing as I ventured down the overgrown path, I hiked quickly but carefully, as I would have to fend for myself if anything happened. I was scared; being alone in the wilderness was a new challenge. Coming upon a crossroads, there were two paths to choose. Heading due south, hopeful I was on the right path, the distant highway finally came into view. After a steep descent, I was able to run toward the highway. Though it took me another thirty minutes to reach the highway, I finally knew I was going to be okay.
And I was okay. In an amusing coincidence, shortly after getting to the highway, a rancher I met only days before passed me and offered me a ride I was only too glad to take. As I sat in his truck driving back east toward the ranch, I had a new sense of pride of having faced my fear of being in the wilderness alone.
Despite my urban Minneapolis life at the time, I had ventured out to New Mexico for the summer, working at a ranch bordering the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Though more familiar with catching the bus, my summer job required me to explore the beautiful land by the ranch on foot.
It was clear rendezvousing that day was no longer an option. The sun was slowly setting. At most I had three hours to get elsewhere on foot before dark. Camping out was not an option. I had no tent, plus having brought extra food to share with John’s team, there was too great a risk of attracting a bear. I pulled out my simple map. Following a path due south, it looked like I would hit Highway 64 before nightfall. While still 20 miles from the ranch, perhaps I could call someone from the lone gas station to get me.
Hearing rattlesnakes hissing as I ventured down the overgrown path, I hiked quickly but carefully, as I would have to fend for myself if anything happened. I was scared; being alone in the wilderness was a new challenge. Coming upon a crossroads, there were two paths to choose. Heading due south, hopeful I was on the right path, the distant highway finally came into view. After a steep descent, I was able to run toward the highway. Though it took me another thirty minutes to reach the highway, I finally knew I was going to be okay.
And I was okay. In an amusing coincidence, shortly after getting to the highway, a rancher I met only days before passed me and offered me a ride I was only too glad to take. As I sat in his truck driving back east toward the ranch, I had a new sense of pride of having faced my fear of being in the wilderness alone.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Google and the Magic Eight Ball
Do you remember being in elementary or middle school and asking big, important life questions like "Should I ask Timmy to the 6th grade dance?" or "Should I get my ears pierced?" to the Magic 8 ball?
If I recall correctly, this softball-sized black ball had 8 responses it would give depending on the length of time you shook it. The answers appeared on the bottom of the ball amidst a blue-ish tint. Though the intention was for the answers to be random and unpredictable, mass produced toys often have trouble truly being random. You could time the ball and the length of the shake to get the response you wanted. The answers were essentially more complicated versions of "Yes" and "No." For example: "The answer lies within," or "Yes, but something unexpected will occur."
Anyway, at this point in my twentysomething life I find myself wishing the Google search function worked like the Magic 8 ball. For example, I could type "When should I go to graduate school?" or "Should I really join the Peace Corps now?" or "Was that the right decision?" Google would respond "Wait three years - your future employer will offer to pay for graduate school" or "Yes or "No, but time will lead you to that road again." That would be nice. But, until then, perhaps I should take a hint from the Magic 8 ball of my youth and recognize "the answer lies within."
If I recall correctly, this softball-sized black ball had 8 responses it would give depending on the length of time you shook it. The answers appeared on the bottom of the ball amidst a blue-ish tint. Though the intention was for the answers to be random and unpredictable, mass produced toys often have trouble truly being random. You could time the ball and the length of the shake to get the response you wanted. The answers were essentially more complicated versions of "Yes" and "No." For example: "The answer lies within," or "Yes, but something unexpected will occur."
Anyway, at this point in my twentysomething life I find myself wishing the Google search function worked like the Magic 8 ball. For example, I could type "When should I go to graduate school?" or "Should I really join the Peace Corps now?" or "Was that the right decision?" Google would respond "Wait three years - your future employer will offer to pay for graduate school" or "Yes or "No, but time will lead you to that road again." That would be nice. But, until then, perhaps I should take a hint from the Magic 8 ball of my youth and recognize "the answer lies within."
