Training notes: Today was a much better day. After battling a virus of some sort I feel back on track. To that end I managed 9000 steps! Yay me. Even with wind and rain and a lot of commitments, I got in the 9k. Feel pretty good about that. Let's see if it can be bested tomorrow. (For the record, pacing your hallway during phone calls is a great way to get in extra steps).
Travel notes: I find myself going back and forth on how real this is. I so want to do this. I so very much want to do this. And yet I worry about everything that can go wrong to derail the trip. The cost of airfare, the cost of lodging and food, who will go, who won't go, what happens if I have to do it alone. Can I even imagine doing it alone?
I don't want to fall into my former mind set of putting trips off until. Untils are deceptive. Until next year. Until I have just a little more money. Until my friend(s) can join me. Until I have a romantic partner to share it with. Until I feel more comfortable. Until things are more settled at work (at home, in the relationship). Untils give you a false security. It won't be that much longer until. Until you realize that first until was five years ago. Until you realize that you lost out an opportunity. Until you are no longer physically able to go. Until you really do have to many commitments.
A few years ago I lost several people in my life. It was spread out over the year. The first was in March, the last was in October. They ranged from my 21 year old nephew to my 90 year old grandmother. In between were a good friend and a mentor. The friend, Roger, made me promise him that I would take a trip. Sooner rather than later. It was the following year that I went to Europe for the first time. It was the first time I had been outside the country, other than two trips to Canada. It was scary and exhilarating and amazing.
The trip wasn't easy. In fact at points it was horrible. Friends who had promised me a place to stay in Paris suddenly decided there was no room for me. After I had landed, after they had picked me up at the airport. I was abandoned to a hotel and told they would fetch me the next day around noon. I was ready to pick up my bag and head straight back to the airport. Then I realized - I'm in Paris! I spent several amazing mornings wandering around the city by myself. I got lost several times and managed to find my way back. It was the most empowering thing that had happened to me in my life.
My point is this. I don't want to wait for perfect moments any longer. There are no perfect moments you can plan for. If you are lucky, you can stumble into them now and again. If you work hard you can find yourself there. But you can't plan for them. So whatever it is that you are telling yourself will wait until - a trip, a career change, a relationship - understand now that you might wait until that moment is past.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
Local Travels
Training notes: Today was miserable, barely broke 3k today, and the high for the weekend was 6k. Partly because I was on the road for a good part of Saturday (driving, that is), and partly because it was just a wet and yucky few days. Add to it that I am battling something - a virus, or perhaps just a revolt from my body over all the exercise it has been subjected to. But I am painfully aware of just how little movement I get if I don't think about it. Tomorrow, back on track. Literally and figuratively.
Travel notes: For some reason I have this prejudice that travel has to involve some place far, far away. As I commented in my training notes, I did some traveling this weekend. By car, about an hour and a half away; hardly the stuff of epic adventure. Still, it was fun and I was out of town. It was indeed a trip. I have to remind myself of that occasionally because traveling is a chance to get out of your head, a chance to meet people, a chance to learn something, a chance to change your point of view (or perhaps confirm it), a chance to grow. It doesn't matter if it is 50 miles of 1500 miles or 5000 miles, really. As long as you take the opportunity.
What did I get out of this weekend? I got a chance to be out in the beautiful countryside. I got to talk to new people and old friends. I learned a little bit about wine. I had some great conversations. I got to stand in the fresh air and breathe in the smell of spring rain. Was it ground breaking or earth shattering? No. Travel doesn't always have to be ground breaking or earth shattering. It is often a series of small moments that add up to something after the fact. For now, the small trips will hold me, and for that I am grateful.
Travel notes: For some reason I have this prejudice that travel has to involve some place far, far away. As I commented in my training notes, I did some traveling this weekend. By car, about an hour and a half away; hardly the stuff of epic adventure. Still, it was fun and I was out of town. It was indeed a trip. I have to remind myself of that occasionally because traveling is a chance to get out of your head, a chance to meet people, a chance to learn something, a chance to change your point of view (or perhaps confirm it), a chance to grow. It doesn't matter if it is 50 miles of 1500 miles or 5000 miles, really. As long as you take the opportunity.
What did I get out of this weekend? I got a chance to be out in the beautiful countryside. I got to talk to new people and old friends. I learned a little bit about wine. I had some great conversations. I got to stand in the fresh air and breathe in the smell of spring rain. Was it ground breaking or earth shattering? No. Travel doesn't always have to be ground breaking or earth shattering. It is often a series of small moments that add up to something after the fact. For now, the small trips will hold me, and for that I am grateful.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Anticipation
Training notes: did a half day today, only 5200 steps total. Tendonitis in the left foot kept me from doing more. Finding that I am getting restless for movement which is, I think, progress!
Travel notes: I am starting to think about this trip in real terms now. I've thought about gear, I've thought about places to stay and researched the route. But it hasn't felt real. It is over a year away and that is part of the problem. I still don't have all the logistics worked out, I don't even have the actual dates yet. There is a lot to be done. Like find the money to pay for the thing for starters.
And yet somehow, the last couple of days, it has begun to feel like a reality. Maybe it is writing about it here. Maybe it is the tracking of my fitness progress. Maybe it is a combination of the two. But whatever the reason, I am beginning to think about this as something that will happen rather than just a nebulous plan, a dream, an idea.
Trip planning is often that way for me. I remember my first trip overseas. It didn't feel real to me for a very long time. I did lots of research, talked to a lot of people about it, even bought the ticket, and still doubted I was going. I booked hotels, made plans to meet up with friends in two different places, and bought a new suitcase, and it still didn't feel real to me.
I literally stood in the airport and thought I was insane for doing this. It couldn't be real. I wasn't seriously going to get on a plane and go all the way over there - was I? In fact that whole flight, and most of the first day, there was a pervasive sense that it all wasn't really happening. My second trip, which really wasn't that much later, had a similar feel to it.
Now the reality generally hits the moment I purchase the plane ticket. There is nothing like putting out roughly the same amount of money you pay in monthly rent for a plane ticket to bring reality crashing down around you. And yet, even with that, I still get that lovely sense of anticipation, of the dream coming true, each time I step on a plane to go somewhere. A little voice whispers to me 'you really are doing this!'
And here it is, starting again. I am really going to do this.
Travel notes: I am starting to think about this trip in real terms now. I've thought about gear, I've thought about places to stay and researched the route. But it hasn't felt real. It is over a year away and that is part of the problem. I still don't have all the logistics worked out, I don't even have the actual dates yet. There is a lot to be done. Like find the money to pay for the thing for starters.
And yet somehow, the last couple of days, it has begun to feel like a reality. Maybe it is writing about it here. Maybe it is the tracking of my fitness progress. Maybe it is a combination of the two. But whatever the reason, I am beginning to think about this as something that will happen rather than just a nebulous plan, a dream, an idea.
Trip planning is often that way for me. I remember my first trip overseas. It didn't feel real to me for a very long time. I did lots of research, talked to a lot of people about it, even bought the ticket, and still doubted I was going. I booked hotels, made plans to meet up with friends in two different places, and bought a new suitcase, and it still didn't feel real to me.
I literally stood in the airport and thought I was insane for doing this. It couldn't be real. I wasn't seriously going to get on a plane and go all the way over there - was I? In fact that whole flight, and most of the first day, there was a pervasive sense that it all wasn't really happening. My second trip, which really wasn't that much later, had a similar feel to it.
Now the reality generally hits the moment I purchase the plane ticket. There is nothing like putting out roughly the same amount of money you pay in monthly rent for a plane ticket to bring reality crashing down around you. And yet, even with that, I still get that lovely sense of anticipation, of the dream coming true, each time I step on a plane to go somewhere. A little voice whispers to me 'you really are doing this!'
And here it is, starting again. I am really going to do this.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
It's Your Thing...
Training notes: 8526 steps today. It was a gorgeous day and it made for great walking. I'm tired tonight, but at least not as stiff as I have been the last two nights. Stretching has helped! I look forward to a week or so from now, hoping that it will have gotten at least marginally easier.
Travel notes: Doing some travel planning for a friend as I undertake my own trip creation. The plan is for them to start in Milan, Italy and then go to Greece. To my surprise I originally heard myself trying to talk them out of this. Milan is in Northwest Italy; Greece sits off the south east coast. Madness! Thankfully, he was persistent and I stopped being a know it all for a few moments to really listen to what he wanted to do.
Turns out, this isn't that hard. There are inexpensive (i.e., EasyJet) flights from Milan to several places in Greece. What's the big deal? Where's the problem? The problem, sadly, was with me. My idea of the trip was that if he was going to be in Northern Italy, he needed to stay in that region. It would take too long, I reasoned, to get from point A to point B. Except that it doesn't. It is, in fact, relatively easy.
All it took was a little planning. Thinking outside the box? Not really. Just paying attention and digging a little deeper. Oh, and listening - really listening - to what he wanted for this trip.
It got me to thinking though, about how many people probably end up modifying their trip because someone else thinks they need to change it. I know I have. No one died, sure; but more than once I changed significant portions of a trip because someone else thought I needed to do something different. A good travel planner, a good friend, should ask questions and listen to the answers.
I am now applying that to my own trip. Where do I want to go? What do I want to accomplish? What do I want to see? Where do I want to stay? I have been trying to create a trip that will please everyone, a trip that will be irresistible to the people I invite to join me. And yet all that gets me is a trip that pleases few people, most of all me. It comes from statements like "that sounds...interesting. But you know what I would like to do?" or "well, if you were going to this place instead, that I would be up for."
Trips are personal and individual, make them your own. Don't let people talk you out of your ideas - unless of course, they really are dangerous or un-doable. I am taking that advice to heart.
Travel notes: Doing some travel planning for a friend as I undertake my own trip creation. The plan is for them to start in Milan, Italy and then go to Greece. To my surprise I originally heard myself trying to talk them out of this. Milan is in Northwest Italy; Greece sits off the south east coast. Madness! Thankfully, he was persistent and I stopped being a know it all for a few moments to really listen to what he wanted to do.
Turns out, this isn't that hard. There are inexpensive (i.e., EasyJet) flights from Milan to several places in Greece. What's the big deal? Where's the problem? The problem, sadly, was with me. My idea of the trip was that if he was going to be in Northern Italy, he needed to stay in that region. It would take too long, I reasoned, to get from point A to point B. Except that it doesn't. It is, in fact, relatively easy.
All it took was a little planning. Thinking outside the box? Not really. Just paying attention and digging a little deeper. Oh, and listening - really listening - to what he wanted for this trip.
It got me to thinking though, about how many people probably end up modifying their trip because someone else thinks they need to change it. I know I have. No one died, sure; but more than once I changed significant portions of a trip because someone else thought I needed to do something different. A good travel planner, a good friend, should ask questions and listen to the answers.
I am now applying that to my own trip. Where do I want to go? What do I want to accomplish? What do I want to see? Where do I want to stay? I have been trying to create a trip that will please everyone, a trip that will be irresistible to the people I invite to join me. And yet all that gets me is a trip that pleases few people, most of all me. It comes from statements like "that sounds...interesting. But you know what I would like to do?" or "well, if you were going to this place instead, that I would be up for."
Trips are personal and individual, make them your own. Don't let people talk you out of your ideas - unless of course, they really are dangerous or un-doable. I am taking that advice to heart.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Getting Past Scary
Training notes: dismal day, only reached 7300 steps. I did get in my 2.5 mile walk, but it felt like I was tethered to the computer for most of the day. Tomorrow we shall do better! I am stiff and sore and my body is in full rebellion at being made to move. I keep telling myself it will get better. That it is better now to be a bit stiff and sore with the knowledge that soon it won't be this hard than it is to keep on the way I have been and be like this from just getting out of bed in the morning. The big picture is keeping me moving. I hope.
Travel notes: Today I got to thinking about gear. It may be a bit premature, but as I was walking across a grassy field, I started to think about how for the most part, the trek takes you over fields and such. Not nice, even, paved roads. Boots are in order. Boots for stability and to keep the ankle strong. Boots that can handle some muck and mud, get you over the wobbly ground. So I will need to get boots, which are expensive. For something like this you don't want to go with the cheap special at the odd name brand shoe store. For this you want to go to the places that employ people who know about trekking. This is not a place to cut corners.
While perusing some sites for just that item, I began to look at things like clothes. Is this a trek to be made in jeans? Do I want something lighter? Being Scotland, being fields, I probably want long pants because there will be brambles and probably midges and other biting pests. Then it was walking sticks and backpacks and all the rest of it. This could cost some serious coin!
It isn't a deterrent, though I suspect there is a part of my brain - the part that is tired and stiff - that is desperately trying to sabotage my efforts. "oh, yeah, see? Too expensive! You should take that money and find a really nice spa to spend the week at." I suspect there is a part of me that is still not convinced I can do this and is looking for excuses. "had this great trip planned, but wow, it was so expensive I just stayed home." Maybe part of it is fear of failing at it, that I will get a quarter or a third of the way and have to give up and thus is trying to short circuit the whole thing.
Travel is fun, travel is exciting and broadening and wonderful. It is all the things that make those glossy brochures so enticing. But travel is also a bit scary. It is going someplace far away, someplace that is really different from wherever your particular here is. That's the truth of it. I have butterflies every single time a trip takes shape for me. There is always a part of me that is looking for the exit, that frets over the price, that wants to convince me that you can only look at so many museums and churches, that reminds me of narrow and uncomfortable beds, of bad food and bad experiences. Because it would just be easier to stay home.
So half the triumph for me is just getting there. Getting past the voices and the excuses and arriving. It is like climbing a mountain every single time, but the view from the top is always might fine. So yes, I will need boots and a pack and probably some new clothes. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Because I'm going to walk the Hadrian's Wall Path.
Travel notes: Today I got to thinking about gear. It may be a bit premature, but as I was walking across a grassy field, I started to think about how for the most part, the trek takes you over fields and such. Not nice, even, paved roads. Boots are in order. Boots for stability and to keep the ankle strong. Boots that can handle some muck and mud, get you over the wobbly ground. So I will need to get boots, which are expensive. For something like this you don't want to go with the cheap special at the odd name brand shoe store. For this you want to go to the places that employ people who know about trekking. This is not a place to cut corners.
While perusing some sites for just that item, I began to look at things like clothes. Is this a trek to be made in jeans? Do I want something lighter? Being Scotland, being fields, I probably want long pants because there will be brambles and probably midges and other biting pests. Then it was walking sticks and backpacks and all the rest of it. This could cost some serious coin!
It isn't a deterrent, though I suspect there is a part of my brain - the part that is tired and stiff - that is desperately trying to sabotage my efforts. "oh, yeah, see? Too expensive! You should take that money and find a really nice spa to spend the week at." I suspect there is a part of me that is still not convinced I can do this and is looking for excuses. "had this great trip planned, but wow, it was so expensive I just stayed home." Maybe part of it is fear of failing at it, that I will get a quarter or a third of the way and have to give up and thus is trying to short circuit the whole thing.
Travel is fun, travel is exciting and broadening and wonderful. It is all the things that make those glossy brochures so enticing. But travel is also a bit scary. It is going someplace far away, someplace that is really different from wherever your particular here is. That's the truth of it. I have butterflies every single time a trip takes shape for me. There is always a part of me that is looking for the exit, that frets over the price, that wants to convince me that you can only look at so many museums and churches, that reminds me of narrow and uncomfortable beds, of bad food and bad experiences. Because it would just be easier to stay home.
So half the triumph for me is just getting there. Getting past the voices and the excuses and arriving. It is like climbing a mountain every single time, but the view from the top is always might fine. So yes, I will need boots and a pack and probably some new clothes. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Because I'm going to walk the Hadrian's Wall Path.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Not a Cruise Line Kind of Girl
Training update: Broke the 8500 step threshold today. 8544 to be exact. And am I tired! These 2.5 mile walks are hard - or more precisely, sitting at a computer and doing very little for the last year and a half have made getting moving again hard. Food has been good, healthy and in moderation. So yay me. But I am looking forward to the day when the 2.5 mile walk feels a bit too easy and I decide to up it. A glutton for punishment, I suppose!
Travel update:I was looking at a cruise line site today. River cruising. It sounds lovely, doesn't it? A river cruise. A romantic voyage down the Danube or the Volga or the Rhone. I love to look at the deck plans and the pictures. The people always look like they are having a great time. It is usually a couple of indeterminate middle age sitting at a table, on deck chairs, in a small cabin with a large window or balcony. In the case of balconies, one is always outside looking shoreward while the other reads a book in a chair or pours coffee.
It looks idyllic. And it sounds like a great idea. Unpack once, but see a dozen cities in a week or two. Have a traveling hotel room, have a traveling dining room. Have shore excursions with the nice, English speaking crew. I'm not being mean about this. It sounds nice. I know a number of people who would love to do this. Maybe someday I will find myself on one of these cruises.
But for now? For the forseeable future? I'm not a cruise line kind of girl. It is just another way to do the seven planets in five days trip. It is a way to see the major sites of major cities without ever having to talk to a local, ever have to worry about getting lost, ever have to think about anything. And I understand the appeal, but it feels like cheating.
It cheats me out of the experiences I like most. The getting lost on side streets, the discovering of hidden gems of places, the chance to talk to the people at the next table and find out where they had dinner last night, the chance to talk to the waiter who is thrilled to talk to someone from somewhere else. It cheats me out of the chance to get to know the couple who run the place I go to get my morning coffee, to make friends with the cat who lives in the gift shop across from it. It cheats me out of great conversations in laundromats, on trains, over lunch.
I think of the people I have met - the young man who told me about how his family was rescued by an American soldier, the globe trotting ladies whose husbands hate to travel so they see the world while the boys stay home and watch sports, the Chinese college students who were traveling for the first time ever outside their country, the man who decided he couldn't rent me a scooter because there were too many Italians on the road and he didn't think it was safe for me. Even the guy at the security checkpoint in the Split Airport who took my corkscrew - 'was souvenir, now is trash.'
There wouldn't have been pomegranates, still warm from the sun of my landlady's garden. There wouldn't have been the chance to learn about Belgian beers and the different glasses they come in on a slow afternoon in Bruges. There probably wouldn't have been a chance to see the annual ordination of priests at Notre Dame that I stumbled upon, or the chat with the Scottish farmer.
I'm sure there are their own opportunities on a cruise ship. One day I may decide to see for myself. But for now, I'm not a cruise line kind of girl. And I'm okay with that.
Travel update:I was looking at a cruise line site today. River cruising. It sounds lovely, doesn't it? A river cruise. A romantic voyage down the Danube or the Volga or the Rhone. I love to look at the deck plans and the pictures. The people always look like they are having a great time. It is usually a couple of indeterminate middle age sitting at a table, on deck chairs, in a small cabin with a large window or balcony. In the case of balconies, one is always outside looking shoreward while the other reads a book in a chair or pours coffee.
It looks idyllic. And it sounds like a great idea. Unpack once, but see a dozen cities in a week or two. Have a traveling hotel room, have a traveling dining room. Have shore excursions with the nice, English speaking crew. I'm not being mean about this. It sounds nice. I know a number of people who would love to do this. Maybe someday I will find myself on one of these cruises.
But for now? For the forseeable future? I'm not a cruise line kind of girl. It is just another way to do the seven planets in five days trip. It is a way to see the major sites of major cities without ever having to talk to a local, ever have to worry about getting lost, ever have to think about anything. And I understand the appeal, but it feels like cheating.
It cheats me out of the experiences I like most. The getting lost on side streets, the discovering of hidden gems of places, the chance to talk to the people at the next table and find out where they had dinner last night, the chance to talk to the waiter who is thrilled to talk to someone from somewhere else. It cheats me out of the chance to get to know the couple who run the place I go to get my morning coffee, to make friends with the cat who lives in the gift shop across from it. It cheats me out of great conversations in laundromats, on trains, over lunch.
I think of the people I have met - the young man who told me about how his family was rescued by an American soldier, the globe trotting ladies whose husbands hate to travel so they see the world while the boys stay home and watch sports, the Chinese college students who were traveling for the first time ever outside their country, the man who decided he couldn't rent me a scooter because there were too many Italians on the road and he didn't think it was safe for me. Even the guy at the security checkpoint in the Split Airport who took my corkscrew - 'was souvenir, now is trash.'
There wouldn't have been pomegranates, still warm from the sun of my landlady's garden. There wouldn't have been the chance to learn about Belgian beers and the different glasses they come in on a slow afternoon in Bruges. There probably wouldn't have been a chance to see the annual ordination of priests at Notre Dame that I stumbled upon, or the chat with the Scottish farmer.
I'm sure there are their own opportunities on a cruise ship. One day I may decide to see for myself. But for now, I'm not a cruise line kind of girl. And I'm okay with that.
Monday, March 5, 2012
84 Miles of History
Training notes: 8019 steps today, made all the sweeter by the fact that two of my walks were in really awful weather. I wanted to stay inside, but hey - I'm planning a walk in the borderlands! Weather may not be fabulous all the time. So I look at it as good experience. Need to up the step number. Tomorrow I shoot for 8500. A small goal, but a goal.
Travel notes: I note from the Hadrian's Wall Path website that the entire path is 84 miles long. It sounded like a decently long walk and I guess that it still is. Then again, I watched "The Way" last night and after doing a bit of reading I find that the Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela is about 485 miles. So comparatively speaking, my trip is a walk in the park (which it literally is as parts of it cross through the Northumberland National Park).
While people have been making the pilgrimage for hundreds, if not thousands, of years; my path was opened in 2003. Why all the comparisons? I'm not sure. I suppose that I am wondering why any of us choose to undertake long walks. Do we have some hard wiring that makes us want to journey? I think maybe we do. As my brother Erik has often said, there is a wanderlust that allowed us to spread out across the globe.
So is this trip a pilgrimage for me? I think in a way it is. I love history. I love travel. I am attracted to the idea of walking across the island that is the UK. Maybe it is a way to feel like I am not yet old. Then again, I am pretty sure that when I am 70 (which is still a couple of decades away) I will be planning my next walking trip. Or at the very least, my next trip. Just because I can. Just to do it.
The reality, the heart of the matter I think, is that I feel we are overly programmed to stay on the road. Color within the lines. We see our world from windows - from a car, a train, a bus, a plane. I was always the kid who looked out the window at those mysterious side roads that wound their way off the freeway or the highway and wondered what was there, where they led to. In my travels I am often sidetracked by the side roads. It doesn't matter where I am, I am always looking down the road and wondering what's that way.
It's been a wonderful obsession, I have found some really cool stuff. A side road in Lyon led to a great little eatery. A side road in London led to bookstore that was incredible (I tried to find it again, to no avail). A side road in Dubrovnik led to a posh bar with the best mojito I have ever had; and in Sarajevo it led to a nightclub in a basement with rock walls (literally, a basement that seemed carved out of the rock around it) where we drank too many gin and tonics and danced like no one was looking.
Yes, it is a path. But it is a path that is without cars, where the only traffic is other walkers, some sheep and maybe a cow or two. It is walking a path that was patrolled by Roman soldiers. A chance to see something without a pane of glass between me and it. To be able to literally touch history, to have that wonderful sensation of the weight of history washing over you; to be awash in it.
And there, right there in that last sentence is the answer to the question. This is a pilgrimage. An unorthodox one, perhaps. but I am compelled to do it. That alone rocks me back on my heels a bit.
Travel notes: I note from the Hadrian's Wall Path website that the entire path is 84 miles long. It sounded like a decently long walk and I guess that it still is. Then again, I watched "The Way" last night and after doing a bit of reading I find that the Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela is about 485 miles. So comparatively speaking, my trip is a walk in the park (which it literally is as parts of it cross through the Northumberland National Park).
While people have been making the pilgrimage for hundreds, if not thousands, of years; my path was opened in 2003. Why all the comparisons? I'm not sure. I suppose that I am wondering why any of us choose to undertake long walks. Do we have some hard wiring that makes us want to journey? I think maybe we do. As my brother Erik has often said, there is a wanderlust that allowed us to spread out across the globe.
So is this trip a pilgrimage for me? I think in a way it is. I love history. I love travel. I am attracted to the idea of walking across the island that is the UK. Maybe it is a way to feel like I am not yet old. Then again, I am pretty sure that when I am 70 (which is still a couple of decades away) I will be planning my next walking trip. Or at the very least, my next trip. Just because I can. Just to do it.
The reality, the heart of the matter I think, is that I feel we are overly programmed to stay on the road. Color within the lines. We see our world from windows - from a car, a train, a bus, a plane. I was always the kid who looked out the window at those mysterious side roads that wound their way off the freeway or the highway and wondered what was there, where they led to. In my travels I am often sidetracked by the side roads. It doesn't matter where I am, I am always looking down the road and wondering what's that way.
It's been a wonderful obsession, I have found some really cool stuff. A side road in Lyon led to a great little eatery. A side road in London led to bookstore that was incredible (I tried to find it again, to no avail). A side road in Dubrovnik led to a posh bar with the best mojito I have ever had; and in Sarajevo it led to a nightclub in a basement with rock walls (literally, a basement that seemed carved out of the rock around it) where we drank too many gin and tonics and danced like no one was looking.
Yes, it is a path. But it is a path that is without cars, where the only traffic is other walkers, some sheep and maybe a cow or two. It is walking a path that was patrolled by Roman soldiers. A chance to see something without a pane of glass between me and it. To be able to literally touch history, to have that wonderful sensation of the weight of history washing over you; to be awash in it.
And there, right there in that last sentence is the answer to the question. This is a pilgrimage. An unorthodox one, perhaps. but I am compelled to do it. That alone rocks me back on my heels a bit.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
When I Win the Lottery
Training note: Today is Sunday. My knee hurts, my back hurts, and I am stiff. Exercise, what a concept. Today I am giving myself leave to not put the pedometer on, just walk as much as I can and not think about it. Three days of this and I was obsessing, so a break is in order. Sundays will be my day of rest.
Travel thoughts: If I won the lottery, I would spend a year or so - maybe more - traveling. I love to travel. Not in a five planets in seven days kind of way; all that is is check-listing. The Louvre? Check. Big Ben? Check. Sydney Opera House? Check. It becomes rush, rush, rush - take a look, take a photo, what's next? My kind of travel is to plant myself in a city for five or six days and really take it in. The least I'm comfortable with is two nights, and I tend to reserve that for places I've been before.
But if I won the lottery? I would stretch each of those stays into two weeks, a month. Set up a base and roam around it. Rent a little apartment - it doesn't have to be huge, a studio is fine, a place with a kitchen and a bed and a bathroom and I'm good - and see all I can see, then head out into the surrounding area and see that. Sure, I would probably pop back here every little bit. Sometimes you just need your own bed, your posse, your family, to keep your equilibrium. But mostly I would travel.
I would send my friends tickets to meet me places. Erik and Bob would get tickets to London most likely. Sharon and Mitch would meet me in France. Geoff and I would hang out in Australia. Kent would end up in wine country somewhere. Marilee would come to Ireland. In between I would just go where I wanted. The best trips to me are that nice mixture of traveling alone interspersed with meeting up with friends.
You can do things when you travel alone that you can't in a group. For one thing you can do what you want to do without negotiation. That alone is worth the price of admission since most of us (especially women) tend to not negotiate as much as cave. You can change your mind on a whim or a tip, totally change what it was you were going to do just because.
Examples - I was walking by a theater in London a few years ago having spent a wonderful morning exploring all the little back streets around Covent Garden and the environs. I had planned to have a nice dinner and go to bed early because I had something (I forget what) lined up for the next morning. The theater was advertising a play by Tom Stoppard, who I adore. I stood out front for a moment, then ducked into the ticket office and got a great deal on a seat for that night. It was a great play (Arcadia) and I had a great time. No one to confer with, I just did it. On a previous trip in Croatia I stayed an extra three nights on the island of Hvar because I was having such a great time. Harder to do with a travel partner (unless they are very like minded).
In any case, for me the best trips are a combination of friends and alone time. I suspect this Hadrian's Wall trip will fall out that way. I'll go over and spend some time alone in Edinburgh or Glasgow, we'll all meet up in Newcastle, head out on our walk (I think we will start the actual trek at Haddon-on-Wall - isn't that a great place name?) and maybe spend a celebratory night or two in London before again scattering on our separate ways.
Maybe I'll have won the lottery by then. If so, I will go to Italy. Or France. Or maybe Germany. If I time it right, I can be there just before grape harvest. Okay, I have to go now. I need to buy a ticket.
Travel thoughts: If I won the lottery, I would spend a year or so - maybe more - traveling. I love to travel. Not in a five planets in seven days kind of way; all that is is check-listing. The Louvre? Check. Big Ben? Check. Sydney Opera House? Check. It becomes rush, rush, rush - take a look, take a photo, what's next? My kind of travel is to plant myself in a city for five or six days and really take it in. The least I'm comfortable with is two nights, and I tend to reserve that for places I've been before.
But if I won the lottery? I would stretch each of those stays into two weeks, a month. Set up a base and roam around it. Rent a little apartment - it doesn't have to be huge, a studio is fine, a place with a kitchen and a bed and a bathroom and I'm good - and see all I can see, then head out into the surrounding area and see that. Sure, I would probably pop back here every little bit. Sometimes you just need your own bed, your posse, your family, to keep your equilibrium. But mostly I would travel.
I would send my friends tickets to meet me places. Erik and Bob would get tickets to London most likely. Sharon and Mitch would meet me in France. Geoff and I would hang out in Australia. Kent would end up in wine country somewhere. Marilee would come to Ireland. In between I would just go where I wanted. The best trips to me are that nice mixture of traveling alone interspersed with meeting up with friends.
You can do things when you travel alone that you can't in a group. For one thing you can do what you want to do without negotiation. That alone is worth the price of admission since most of us (especially women) tend to not negotiate as much as cave. You can change your mind on a whim or a tip, totally change what it was you were going to do just because.
Examples - I was walking by a theater in London a few years ago having spent a wonderful morning exploring all the little back streets around Covent Garden and the environs. I had planned to have a nice dinner and go to bed early because I had something (I forget what) lined up for the next morning. The theater was advertising a play by Tom Stoppard, who I adore. I stood out front for a moment, then ducked into the ticket office and got a great deal on a seat for that night. It was a great play (Arcadia) and I had a great time. No one to confer with, I just did it. On a previous trip in Croatia I stayed an extra three nights on the island of Hvar because I was having such a great time. Harder to do with a travel partner (unless they are very like minded).
In any case, for me the best trips are a combination of friends and alone time. I suspect this Hadrian's Wall trip will fall out that way. I'll go over and spend some time alone in Edinburgh or Glasgow, we'll all meet up in Newcastle, head out on our walk (I think we will start the actual trek at Haddon-on-Wall - isn't that a great place name?) and maybe spend a celebratory night or two in London before again scattering on our separate ways.
Maybe I'll have won the lottery by then. If so, I will go to Italy. Or France. Or maybe Germany. If I time it right, I can be there just before grape harvest. Okay, I have to go now. I need to buy a ticket.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
A Step in a New Direction
I've let this languish for better than a year, having spent my time in the trenches looking for work, mostly unsuccessfully, then realizing that the work I was looking for was not what I wanted to do. I have reinvented myself as a freelancer. It is a frightening, exhilarating, frustrating and incredibly rewarding experience and while it is not the most lucrative job, I'm doing okay and having fun.
But what brings me back here is the chance to make this about my next big adventure. I am going to walk the Hadrian's Wall trail in the borderlands of Northumberland. I will be doing this a year from this coming July and I needed a place to keep track of my progress. Because, you see, I need to get in shape for this. It has been a hit or miss project for the last three months; the whole project hasn't seemed real. A nice dream, a great idea, really someone should do this someday; just not real to me.
So as I was out walking yesterday I thought of this spot. The name fits, the very next step, sounds like something to do with walking, right? It has served as a travel blog in many ways - travel to Europe, travel through the landscape of job hunting, now it will see my journey to fighting form and hopefully through the journey along the ancient wall.
In that spirit - info on Hadrian's Wall from the UK National Trails:
National Trails UK
And some information on the region:
Hadrian's Wall Country
And now on to my walking program.
My first goal is to hit the 10,000 steps a day that we are all supposed to get. For the last week I have been averaging about 8000, so I am a bit short. By March 10th I want to have hit the 10k mark consistently for four days. A modest goal, but it is the equivalent of five miles a day. Most of the itineraries for this walk average about nine miles of country walking - across fields, over stiles (those lovely little steps up and over field fencing), with a variety of changes in elevation. But for now, for March, 10k or five miles is the goal. I intend on updating this every evening with my step count. I also will be talking about the other preparations - who is going, what tour companies I am looking at or if I will try to put my super travel powers to the test and arrange it all myself.
Comments are appreciated, especially if you have done this walk or have your own adventure in the making!
Update 11:04 pm: step count for the day reached 8378. Getting closer!
But what brings me back here is the chance to make this about my next big adventure. I am going to walk the Hadrian's Wall trail in the borderlands of Northumberland. I will be doing this a year from this coming July and I needed a place to keep track of my progress. Because, you see, I need to get in shape for this. It has been a hit or miss project for the last three months; the whole project hasn't seemed real. A nice dream, a great idea, really someone should do this someday; just not real to me.
So as I was out walking yesterday I thought of this spot. The name fits, the very next step, sounds like something to do with walking, right? It has served as a travel blog in many ways - travel to Europe, travel through the landscape of job hunting, now it will see my journey to fighting form and hopefully through the journey along the ancient wall.
In that spirit - info on Hadrian's Wall from the UK National Trails:
National Trails UK
And some information on the region:
Hadrian's Wall Country
And now on to my walking program.
My first goal is to hit the 10,000 steps a day that we are all supposed to get. For the last week I have been averaging about 8000, so I am a bit short. By March 10th I want to have hit the 10k mark consistently for four days. A modest goal, but it is the equivalent of five miles a day. Most of the itineraries for this walk average about nine miles of country walking - across fields, over stiles (those lovely little steps up and over field fencing), with a variety of changes in elevation. But for now, for March, 10k or five miles is the goal. I intend on updating this every evening with my step count. I also will be talking about the other preparations - who is going, what tour companies I am looking at or if I will try to put my super travel powers to the test and arrange it all myself.
Comments are appreciated, especially if you have done this walk or have your own adventure in the making!
Update 11:04 pm: step count for the day reached 8378. Getting closer!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
That Stamp on my Forehead
I fell into a job as an administrative assistant. For years I had done any number of jobs, from zookeeper to travel agent to political activist; my twenties were a jumble of jobs that had no real rhyme or reason. Then I landed a job as an administrative assistant through a temp agency. It was a good job and the pay was phenomenal. For a girl who had dropped out of university six credits shy of her BS in Microbiology, I was stunned by the salary I was making.
Not only that, the work was interesting. I did a little of everything, project management, event planning, some research here and there, the variety was enough to keep my head in the game all while I looked for jobs in what was my passion. I wanted to be a zookeeper, a real, big-league zookeeper. The money allowed me to make the weird weekend trips to Topeka Kansas and Orange County to interview for jobs. But none of them ever came through. So I kept on being an administrative assistant.
I moved to Seattle and took a job with a temp agency that again put me in an administrative position, which lead to a full time job with a financial planner; an absolute harridan who promised me bonuses and perks that just never seemed to materialize. So I left that one and took another, this time with a grocery store chain. There was lots of room to advance if I wanted it. And while I did meet two of my favorite people in the world, it just didn’t work out. But I went to work for an engineering firm, where again variety became the spice of my life.
I did land use surveys, I helped to write environmental impact statements, I single handedly rebuilt a solid waste management plan that had been destroyed by a break in – I literally retyped and re-formatted the entire document, even recreating the figures from scratch. It was fun, and I was promised all sorts of things and they even created a new position because of me. One that they then didn’t allow me to have. So I left, and went to San Diego.
There I went to work for a projector company, and I loved my boss and liked my job. Lots of variety, and more autonomy; it was great. Surely here I could advance; then the company was sold and the facility was closed. But it was okay, because I had my dream job – an editorial assistant with a small online scientific journal. Even the offices were wonderful, and I was in heaven. There was so much to learn and to do and experience – for four wonderful weeks it was just amazing. Then they closed the office and I was again looking for work.
I landed on my feet, eventually ending up at a biotech in the Regulatory department. I loved it. I loved the people (many are still close friends today), I loved the work and I loved that what I was doing had a positive impact on the world. After that company merged, I then moved on, back to Seattle to work at a biotech there. Life was good there, and I had a boss who believed in me and wanted to help me advance. I finished my degree in Communications and things were finally looking up. Until my boss was forced out and I ended up working for a man who saw admins as something slightly more advanced than the old school secretary who took dictation and fetched coffee.
I applied for jobs, blanketed the country with my resume and hit up those I thought could help me, all to no avail. I wanted to be anything but an admin. The company I was working for had a large round of layoffs, of which I was one of the hapless. I didn’t mind, it felt like freedom. I loved the people I worked with, loved the community of big brained people who allowed me to sit at the lunch table and be part of the group. But I was going nowhere fast, and it felt like a monumental relief to leave. I ran away to Europe for a while and now I am again looking for a new job.
Just the other day I applied for a communications coordinator job, one that looked promising and low and behold – they called me. Would I be interested in an executive assistant position? This one is different – no really. Except that the very different position sounded very much like a traditional admin job. Tomorrow I go interview with them.
It feels as though someone has taken a great big ‘ADMIN’ stamp and placed is squarely on my forehead. I worry that when I look in the mirror it will be tattooed there, indelible and inescapable. I worry that when I die my headstone will read “Here Lies an Admin” complete with a little filing cabinet. I don’t disparage or discount the work an admin does, but I do know that I am not the right person to be one. It is not my music. Yet every time I step through a door , I am faced with it again.
Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. I would like nothing more than to be a writer, to write whatever I can – articles, newsletters, blog posts, stories. Maybe it is telling me that I can’t do both – I can’t be a part time writer and a full time something else; which is how I have been approaching this. Still, I wonder if I can ever scrub off that stamp and be seen as who I am rather than what I did for so many years.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Good Advice
The other day I read a really great quote - basically it said it is better to live your own life imperfectly than to try and live someone else's view of your life to perfection. How often do we do that, I wonder? How often is the life we are living really the construct of what others want for us?
Don't get me wrong, I am sure that we are told what life we should be living with the very best of intentions. Those that love us want us to be safe. They want us to be happy, too - but in the absence of a good definition of what happiness is they (and we) default to safe. We are told that all that is wanted for us is a 'good life,' a chance at what marketing moguls tell us is the American Dream. But in reality, is that what all of us want? I don't. I have no interest in owning a house; especially the McMansions I see around me. I don't have need of a fancy car, just one that works - or better yet, access to a mass transit system that is reliable.
My dream is of travel, of good food and good wine and good friends. My dream is a little place to come home to at the end of a good trip. My dream is writing on a balcony overlooking the Adriatic, or the Mediterranean, or whatever big body of water happens to be happy. My dream is wandering back streets of a foreign city itching to get lost and then found again. My dream is completely alien to most of my family and even most of my friends.
Yet when I look at it, living the life they envision for me; even if I live it absolutely dead letter perfectly; I just feel exhausted. Yes, the life I yearn for is not an easy one. Yes, the life I yearn for means a lot of hard work, a lot of disappointment, and a lot of frustration. But the safe life I had was no picnic either. Coming home at the end of the day feeling wrung out and sad. Working at a job that should have had so much more meaning, should have had so much more promise but instead relegated me to a nice little corner. Where I lived for vacation, lived for evenings out with friends who understood that travel bug; where I trod lightly over the minefield of expectations of those who told me I was crazy, strange, weird, and troublesome.
I would rather live my destiny - my very own destiny - imperfectly, flawed, and tumultuous than to ever again live a life that is prescribed for me by others who draw the boundaries of it based on their own fears. Easier said than done, certainly; but good advice none the less.
Don't get me wrong, I am sure that we are told what life we should be living with the very best of intentions. Those that love us want us to be safe. They want us to be happy, too - but in the absence of a good definition of what happiness is they (and we) default to safe. We are told that all that is wanted for us is a 'good life,' a chance at what marketing moguls tell us is the American Dream. But in reality, is that what all of us want? I don't. I have no interest in owning a house; especially the McMansions I see around me. I don't have need of a fancy car, just one that works - or better yet, access to a mass transit system that is reliable.
My dream is of travel, of good food and good wine and good friends. My dream is a little place to come home to at the end of a good trip. My dream is writing on a balcony overlooking the Adriatic, or the Mediterranean, or whatever big body of water happens to be happy. My dream is wandering back streets of a foreign city itching to get lost and then found again. My dream is completely alien to most of my family and even most of my friends.
Yet when I look at it, living the life they envision for me; even if I live it absolutely dead letter perfectly; I just feel exhausted. Yes, the life I yearn for is not an easy one. Yes, the life I yearn for means a lot of hard work, a lot of disappointment, and a lot of frustration. But the safe life I had was no picnic either. Coming home at the end of the day feeling wrung out and sad. Working at a job that should have had so much more meaning, should have had so much more promise but instead relegated me to a nice little corner. Where I lived for vacation, lived for evenings out with friends who understood that travel bug; where I trod lightly over the minefield of expectations of those who told me I was crazy, strange, weird, and troublesome.
I would rather live my destiny - my very own destiny - imperfectly, flawed, and tumultuous than to ever again live a life that is prescribed for me by others who draw the boundaries of it based on their own fears. Easier said than done, certainly; but good advice none the less.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Baby Steps
I have had some bad days, days when I wonder if any of this is worth it. They are the days when I want to pack up and go. Anywhere. Anywhere that isn't here. Days when I hate everyone around me and I am positive that no matter what I have done in the past year, I am going to end up exactly where I was before. In a dead end job that I am not happy in. Those are rough times. They are the nights when I cry into my pillow. They are the days that lack the ambition to do little more than sit at my computer and kill time. They are the times that I think that I am kidding myself.
Then there are times when something unexpected happens, when the sun breaks through the clouds and the world is lovely. Those are the times when I can actually see a different future, one where I am doing what I love and being happy in my life. Okay, maybe I jump the gun a bit. But still...they are moments that give me hope, and I am all about the hope.
Last night was one of those moments. A friend, a cheerleader really, prompted me to do something that I was too shy to do. She told me to get my stuff out there. Use my Social Media know how and start promoting myself. You see I write another blog - Vine Woman. It is my blog of all that is good and wonderful about living in the Northwest. It is all about my passion for food, wine, beer, travel, the good things in life. This one is all about me, and my journey towards becoming Vine Woman. This one is more private and introspective. That one I actively promote. This cheerleader (you know who you are) prompted me to start publicizing new posts.
So I did, about two weeks ago. It was hard to do, but I did the conversions and tweeted about my latest and held my breath. Nothing much happened, really. Then yesterday, one of the wineries I follow on Twitter (and who seems to follow me), retweeted my blog. I have 62 followers. They have 1,000. 1,000 people saw that tweet and a goodly number of them decided to follow the link. It is a small step. A mere baby step. But it is the kind of step that makes me think that maybe there is something to all of this after all. It was a good day. It was a phenomenal day, really. One to hold onto for those days that are miserable.
Then there are times when something unexpected happens, when the sun breaks through the clouds and the world is lovely. Those are the times when I can actually see a different future, one where I am doing what I love and being happy in my life. Okay, maybe I jump the gun a bit. But still...they are moments that give me hope, and I am all about the hope.
Last night was one of those moments. A friend, a cheerleader really, prompted me to do something that I was too shy to do. She told me to get my stuff out there. Use my Social Media know how and start promoting myself. You see I write another blog - Vine Woman. It is my blog of all that is good and wonderful about living in the Northwest. It is all about my passion for food, wine, beer, travel, the good things in life. This one is all about me, and my journey towards becoming Vine Woman. This one is more private and introspective. That one I actively promote. This cheerleader (you know who you are) prompted me to start publicizing new posts.
So I did, about two weeks ago. It was hard to do, but I did the conversions and tweeted about my latest and held my breath. Nothing much happened, really. Then yesterday, one of the wineries I follow on Twitter (and who seems to follow me), retweeted my blog. I have 62 followers. They have 1,000. 1,000 people saw that tweet and a goodly number of them decided to follow the link. It is a small step. A mere baby step. But it is the kind of step that makes me think that maybe there is something to all of this after all. It was a good day. It was a phenomenal day, really. One to hold onto for those days that are miserable.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
The Kids are Alright
A friend sent me a lovely email today, one in which she asked me how I was doing in light of everything that has been going on in the last year. She asked if I was okay, was I depressed, was I frustrated, was I worried? As is often the case when someone you care about asks such questions, there was a temptation to dash off the one line "I'm fine, thanks for asking!" reply. The one that has the obligatory use of the exclamation mark, just to prove how fine you really are. The one that brushes off the real answer, the deeper answer, and is meant as nothing more than a surface reassurance. The kind of answer that we are skeptical of when we get it ourselves.
I felt that I owed her more than that; and it seemed a good opportunity to take my own emotional temperature. Am I really 'fine?' So I set down to write an honest reply; in doing so I kind of surprised myself. I am, actually, fine. Better than fine, really. I found myself writing that I am truly grateful for this past year or so.
1. I was freed from a job that I wasn't particularly happy in. I truly enjoyed the people I worked with. It was a joy to spend so much of my time with funny, smart, interesting people; most of whom loved what they did and were really, really good at it. I liked the company I worked for, I liked the idea that my work contributed to a company that tried to heal people with serious diseases. But I never felt that I was working at my potential, and I never felt that I had the opportunity to advance or that I my skills and knowledge were be used in the best and highest use. And yet I never seriously attempted to rectify that.
2. I was given the opportunity to take an extended trip, to spend time in some amazing and wonderful places. I met some sweet and interesting people, was allowed to be a temporary local in France, in Ireland, in Scotland. It was a rest I dearly needed but never realized how much.
3. I have had the opportunity to deepen and develop a couple of interests that were peripheral hobbies. Interests that have roots going back almost a decade. I feel like I went from an apprentice to a pretty skilled journeyman when it comes to wine and food; and I feel as though I have become a better, stronger writer in the process.
4. As a result of those interests, I have met some pretty wonderful people. I have met folks who have a passion for what they do, who have a drive that gets them out of bed in the morning to work longer, harder hours in the pursuit of their interests than they ever did working in a traditional 9-5 job, and who couldn't be happier as a result.They truly are craftsmen, and beyond that they are just darned nice people.
5. I have discovered who my cheerleaders are, and have come to appreciate them more than ever. I have met new people who I doubt I would have come in contact with in any other circumstance. People who have given me new perspectives, new ideas, and a renewed energy to pursue them.
6. I have learned that it is okay to ask people for help. That it is not some sort of personal failing. That alone has been worth the price of admission.
At the end of the day, I am not just doing okay, I am doing pretty darn good. I am a better, smarter, stronger person for this journey. Not that it has been a bed of roses - it has been challenging, depressing, irritating, frustrating, at times I have felt hopeless and even worthless. And yet, I have survived, even thrived in this little petri dish. So yeah - I'm doing just fine. Thanks for asking.
I felt that I owed her more than that; and it seemed a good opportunity to take my own emotional temperature. Am I really 'fine?' So I set down to write an honest reply; in doing so I kind of surprised myself. I am, actually, fine. Better than fine, really. I found myself writing that I am truly grateful for this past year or so.
1. I was freed from a job that I wasn't particularly happy in. I truly enjoyed the people I worked with. It was a joy to spend so much of my time with funny, smart, interesting people; most of whom loved what they did and were really, really good at it. I liked the company I worked for, I liked the idea that my work contributed to a company that tried to heal people with serious diseases. But I never felt that I was working at my potential, and I never felt that I had the opportunity to advance or that I my skills and knowledge were be used in the best and highest use. And yet I never seriously attempted to rectify that.
2. I was given the opportunity to take an extended trip, to spend time in some amazing and wonderful places. I met some sweet and interesting people, was allowed to be a temporary local in France, in Ireland, in Scotland. It was a rest I dearly needed but never realized how much.
3. I have had the opportunity to deepen and develop a couple of interests that were peripheral hobbies. Interests that have roots going back almost a decade. I feel like I went from an apprentice to a pretty skilled journeyman when it comes to wine and food; and I feel as though I have become a better, stronger writer in the process.
4. As a result of those interests, I have met some pretty wonderful people. I have met folks who have a passion for what they do, who have a drive that gets them out of bed in the morning to work longer, harder hours in the pursuit of their interests than they ever did working in a traditional 9-5 job, and who couldn't be happier as a result.They truly are craftsmen, and beyond that they are just darned nice people.
5. I have discovered who my cheerleaders are, and have come to appreciate them more than ever. I have met new people who I doubt I would have come in contact with in any other circumstance. People who have given me new perspectives, new ideas, and a renewed energy to pursue them.
6. I have learned that it is okay to ask people for help. That it is not some sort of personal failing. That alone has been worth the price of admission.
At the end of the day, I am not just doing okay, I am doing pretty darn good. I am a better, smarter, stronger person for this journey. Not that it has been a bed of roses - it has been challenging, depressing, irritating, frustrating, at times I have felt hopeless and even worthless. And yet, I have survived, even thrived in this little petri dish. So yeah - I'm doing just fine. Thanks for asking.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Motivation
One thing that dogs me constantly is motivation. As in the lack thereof. Inertia is my enemy, I realize, one that sneaks up on me wearing the best of intentions. No really, you deserve a day off from this relentless job hunt. Won't hurt a thing, I promise. Just a day to relax and not have to search a gazillion job boards. It sounds reasonable, it sounds nice, it sounds like good advice when all is said and done. Sometimes you do need a day off.
Lately it has become too easy to take a day off too often. Like for several days straight. Too easy to justify not looking today. It's a holiday week, no one will be posting anyway. No, really, I need time to think about this thing or that thing, how to craft my resume or cover letter; to think about if this is really a good fit. So I step away from the computer, step away from the job hunt. Step away from the work that will feed my intentions. And the more steps I take away from it all, the harder it is to get back to it.
I tell myself that I just need a little motivation. Something to spur me on, to invigorate and inspire me. Something that will renew my energy and propel me back to where I need to be. I keep looking for it, expecting to find it hidden away somewhere, like a child playing hide and go seek. Thinking that it will pop out from unexpected nook and yell "surprise!" But it hasn't.
I read once that motivation follows action. It is about as true a statement as I have ever encountered. Motivation does not spring forth unbidden from some magic lamp. Motivation does not arise like the sun, requiring us only to stretch, yawn and step out of bed to greet it. Motivation is a catalyst - something that, when added to action, spurs it on and accelerates the process. If there is nothing there for it to act on, it is inert.
Today I am taking the first steps, restarting the engine and trusting that motivation has built up in the environment, just waiting for that spark to get it moving. Truthfully, it is a battle, but one that I will win. Because motivation follows action. And acting is what I intend to do today.
Lately it has become too easy to take a day off too often. Like for several days straight. Too easy to justify not looking today. It's a holiday week, no one will be posting anyway. No, really, I need time to think about this thing or that thing, how to craft my resume or cover letter; to think about if this is really a good fit. So I step away from the computer, step away from the job hunt. Step away from the work that will feed my intentions. And the more steps I take away from it all, the harder it is to get back to it.
I tell myself that I just need a little motivation. Something to spur me on, to invigorate and inspire me. Something that will renew my energy and propel me back to where I need to be. I keep looking for it, expecting to find it hidden away somewhere, like a child playing hide and go seek. Thinking that it will pop out from unexpected nook and yell "surprise!" But it hasn't.
I read once that motivation follows action. It is about as true a statement as I have ever encountered. Motivation does not spring forth unbidden from some magic lamp. Motivation does not arise like the sun, requiring us only to stretch, yawn and step out of bed to greet it. Motivation is a catalyst - something that, when added to action, spurs it on and accelerates the process. If there is nothing there for it to act on, it is inert.
Today I am taking the first steps, restarting the engine and trusting that motivation has built up in the environment, just waiting for that spark to get it moving. Truthfully, it is a battle, but one that I will win. Because motivation follows action. And acting is what I intend to do today.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Intention
Merriam Webster defines intention thusly:
2 : import, significance
There has been a lot of talk, books written, comedians commenting on, etc around intention. It has become one of those 'woo woo' words (as my brother in law likes to say) that people invoke along with things like "the will of the universe" and other such things. But I think it has been done a disservice.
Look at that definition again. A determination to act in a certain way; resolve. In this last year, I can honestly say that my intentions have been all over the place. My determination to act in a certain way has swung, pendulum like, across a broad spectrum of career choices. It is fair to say that instead of acting on what I wanted, I was acting only on what I didn't want. As in, I have no idea what I want my next job to look like, but I do know what I DON'T want it to look like. I built a long list of things that I wasn't willing to do anymore. I didn't build much of a list of what I did want to do.
Oh, I could give you fuzzy ideas about what I wanted. I want to write. I want to travel. I want a chance to grow and learn. I want new challenges. All of those things are great, on the face of them. What they don't do is give any intention of what that next position would actually look like. Write what? Travel where? Grow how? Those questions are left hanging. So when that dreaded interview question came up - 'where do you see yourself in five years?' - I was left hanging as well.
In my desire to not do something, I completely neglected what it was I did want. I think part of it is fear. Look at the last part of that definition: Import, significance. Yes, I want my next move to be important, to be a significant move. But if I do that and I fail? What if that choice is the wrong one? What will others think of my choice? Those are scary things to hang words like importance, significance, determination, and resolve on!
So here are my intentions: To write the stories that live in my head, to write about the things I love and enjoy and want to share with the world such as my northwest life blog. To write about the travel I love and crave. The places I have been and the places I have yet to visit. To get paid for doing so! That is my intention. There. I've said it, or rather written it, for the world to hear or read or whatever.
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1 : a determination to act in a certain way : resolve2 : import, significance
There has been a lot of talk, books written, comedians commenting on, etc around intention. It has become one of those 'woo woo' words (as my brother in law likes to say) that people invoke along with things like "the will of the universe" and other such things. But I think it has been done a disservice.
Look at that definition again. A determination to act in a certain way; resolve. In this last year, I can honestly say that my intentions have been all over the place. My determination to act in a certain way has swung, pendulum like, across a broad spectrum of career choices. It is fair to say that instead of acting on what I wanted, I was acting only on what I didn't want. As in, I have no idea what I want my next job to look like, but I do know what I DON'T want it to look like. I built a long list of things that I wasn't willing to do anymore. I didn't build much of a list of what I did want to do.
Oh, I could give you fuzzy ideas about what I wanted. I want to write. I want to travel. I want a chance to grow and learn. I want new challenges. All of those things are great, on the face of them. What they don't do is give any intention of what that next position would actually look like. Write what? Travel where? Grow how? Those questions are left hanging. So when that dreaded interview question came up - 'where do you see yourself in five years?' - I was left hanging as well.
In my desire to not do something, I completely neglected what it was I did want. I think part of it is fear. Look at the last part of that definition: Import, significance. Yes, I want my next move to be important, to be a significant move. But if I do that and I fail? What if that choice is the wrong one? What will others think of my choice? Those are scary things to hang words like importance, significance, determination, and resolve on!
So here are my intentions: To write the stories that live in my head, to write about the things I love and enjoy and want to share with the world such as my northwest life blog. To write about the travel I love and crave. The places I have been and the places I have yet to visit. To get paid for doing so! That is my intention. There. I've said it, or rather written it, for the world to hear or read or whatever.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Keeping the Faith
I've probably talked about this before, but it is hard - really hard - to keep a sunny outlook. There are days when I feel worthless, days when I feel useless, days when I can spend hours beating myself up over the fact that I don't have a job. I can look over my job log; the spreadsheet where I faithfully record every position I have applied for, every place and every person I have sent a resume to; and deride myself for the things that I am going for.
There is the little voice in my head that likes to mock me "Seriously? You think they are going to consider you??" it says as I read a job title. "Like that's going to happen!" it laughs as I finish off a cover letter and get ready to send it. It is the same voice that pines for my 'old life' and whines that it wants it back.
Last week I was back in Seattle, and on a whim I stopped at my favorite market. I pulled into the parking lot and I found myself getting really sad. In fact, I nearly cried. It was so familiar, so achingly familiar, this remnant of my life a year ago that it caught me off guard. I began to mourn for this wonderful life I once had, and the familiar refrain of "I just want my life back!" began to play on the endless feedback loop in my head.
Ah yes, that wonderful old life I had. The job that was unfulfilling, the apartment that had a great view but was on an incredibly noisy street with incredibly noisy neighbors and was structurally damaged; the friends I saw infrequently and the frenemies that came around a little too much. There were aspects of that life that I loved, but many more that I didn't.
In the end, I think, it is an illusion. A ploy to get you back to 'safe' because right now you don't feel any sense of safety. It is a dream of a better time that never existed. I have to believe - have to believe - that something better is just over the horizon for me. That something will break and will break soon, that will be that better life I have been looking for for the past two years. It just happens that out of those 24 months, 12 have them have conspired to make me just a bit more uncomfortable. I do know it is out there, that I am approaching it a bit more every day. There are times I just wish it would hurry up and get here!
There is the little voice in my head that likes to mock me "Seriously? You think they are going to consider you??" it says as I read a job title. "Like that's going to happen!" it laughs as I finish off a cover letter and get ready to send it. It is the same voice that pines for my 'old life' and whines that it wants it back.
Last week I was back in Seattle, and on a whim I stopped at my favorite market. I pulled into the parking lot and I found myself getting really sad. In fact, I nearly cried. It was so familiar, so achingly familiar, this remnant of my life a year ago that it caught me off guard. I began to mourn for this wonderful life I once had, and the familiar refrain of "I just want my life back!" began to play on the endless feedback loop in my head.
Ah yes, that wonderful old life I had. The job that was unfulfilling, the apartment that had a great view but was on an incredibly noisy street with incredibly noisy neighbors and was structurally damaged; the friends I saw infrequently and the frenemies that came around a little too much. There were aspects of that life that I loved, but many more that I didn't.
In the end, I think, it is an illusion. A ploy to get you back to 'safe' because right now you don't feel any sense of safety. It is a dream of a better time that never existed. I have to believe - have to believe - that something better is just over the horizon for me. That something will break and will break soon, that will be that better life I have been looking for for the past two years. It just happens that out of those 24 months, 12 have them have conspired to make me just a bit more uncomfortable. I do know it is out there, that I am approaching it a bit more every day. There are times I just wish it would hurry up and get here!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Everyone Needs a Cheerleader
A friend of mine has cancer. She was told she was terminal and had about 18 months. She has now passed that, is doing great, plays golf a couple of times a week and shows no sign of dying any time soon. She attributes at least part of this so-called miraculous state to her team of cheerleaders. Another friend is going through some serious marital problems, it has been difficult for her, but things are starting to look up; she claims she wouldn't be seeing this turn around if she didn't have great friends cheering her on. Everybody needs a cheerleader now and again, even if it isn't anything as drastic as cancer, or as depressing as divorce.
I know this first hand. I have just passed the one year mark of unemployment. It has been a frustrating, exhilarating, frightening, freeing, and otherwise emotional year. It would be easy to be discouraged and depressed; it would be easy to be bitter, it would be easy to give up. Heaven knows there are a lot of people out there who want to help you go down that path. I have written about the well-meaning but ultimately unhelpful folks in the past. But I am also fortunate. I have cheerleaders.
I have friends (some of whom are family) who have been encouraging and supportive. There is the aforementioned friend with cancer who has been unfailingly upbeat and positive, telling me that holding out for the dream is not just a good idea, but an obvious one. There have been my brothers who are always willing to listen to me, always quick to give good advice when I ask, or just be silently supportive when I don't. There are the friends who have offered me a roof over my head without hesitation, and who are pulling out the stops to help me through ideas and introductions.
They have pulled out the tough love when needed, provided the strong shoulder, the good laughs, and trotted out the pep talks when I was discouraged. These are people who have unfailingly been in my corner, regardless. Cheering me on, telling me the upside, and agreeing that yes, something good is just around the corner - they can feel it.
We all need a cheerleader. I am fortunate and more grateful than I can say that I have a squad of them.
I know this first hand. I have just passed the one year mark of unemployment. It has been a frustrating, exhilarating, frightening, freeing, and otherwise emotional year. It would be easy to be discouraged and depressed; it would be easy to be bitter, it would be easy to give up. Heaven knows there are a lot of people out there who want to help you go down that path. I have written about the well-meaning but ultimately unhelpful folks in the past. But I am also fortunate. I have cheerleaders.
I have friends (some of whom are family) who have been encouraging and supportive. There is the aforementioned friend with cancer who has been unfailingly upbeat and positive, telling me that holding out for the dream is not just a good idea, but an obvious one. There have been my brothers who are always willing to listen to me, always quick to give good advice when I ask, or just be silently supportive when I don't. There are the friends who have offered me a roof over my head without hesitation, and who are pulling out the stops to help me through ideas and introductions.
They have pulled out the tough love when needed, provided the strong shoulder, the good laughs, and trotted out the pep talks when I was discouraged. These are people who have unfailingly been in my corner, regardless. Cheering me on, telling me the upside, and agreeing that yes, something good is just around the corner - they can feel it.
We all need a cheerleader. I am fortunate and more grateful than I can say that I have a squad of them.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Encouraging the Dreamers
I have a wonderful nephew. Okay, I have several, but I am going to focus on one in particular today. At the moment he is very far away. Afghanistan far away. He is a really sweet kid who is doing something he isn't that wild about in a place that is rather scary. In short, this wasn't what he signed up for.
We have been emailing back and forth (and how wonderful is it that we have that medium!); him trying to be stoic and brave; me trying to be cheerful and supportive. It is hard work. But recently he answered my question of "what are you going to do when you are done with the military" by saying he wanted to either teach or be an engineer. Great, so far, and yet in all the years I have known him he never once uttered the words "my dream is to teach" or "engineering is so cool." In fact most of the time the question has come up regarding the rest of his life, he has talked of studying languages, studying religion or doing something in either direction with music.
So I am in this odd position. I am trying to live my dream; I am working hard at landing that dream job. It has not been easy, and it has not always been much fun. It has taken much longer than I had anticipated, and am really comfortable with - but here I still am. Watching this wonderful kid, I want desperately to tell him that he needs to be figuring out his dream now. That now, in his early 20's, is the very best time to be a dreamer - and to dream big. This is the time he needs to be asking himself the big and important questions about the rest of his life.
I know that part of his thinking is wrapped up in making his parents happy, in concerns about making a living and doing all the things he is 'supposed' to do. The pressures that society places on him, that family places on him, that friends place on him. It is a lot of noise to contend with, these conflicting and sometimes strident voices yelling direction but often not much encouragement.
How does this cheerleader for his life make a difference over here in the corner? How do I encourage the dreamer without placing added pressure on the person? I am trying to be subtle in my encouragement - I have sent books on topics I think he will find interesting, I keep from giving him advice when we email, and so far I have resisted the urge to verbally grab him by the shoulders and intently give him my witness of the journey he is on. That we both, really, are on.
Maybe it is enough to be a listener in the wilderness of voices he is navigating. A quiet place where maybe he can get some respite from the din and get his own thoughts in order. I certainly hope so.
We have been emailing back and forth (and how wonderful is it that we have that medium!); him trying to be stoic and brave; me trying to be cheerful and supportive. It is hard work. But recently he answered my question of "what are you going to do when you are done with the military" by saying he wanted to either teach or be an engineer. Great, so far, and yet in all the years I have known him he never once uttered the words "my dream is to teach" or "engineering is so cool." In fact most of the time the question has come up regarding the rest of his life, he has talked of studying languages, studying religion or doing something in either direction with music.
So I am in this odd position. I am trying to live my dream; I am working hard at landing that dream job. It has not been easy, and it has not always been much fun. It has taken much longer than I had anticipated, and am really comfortable with - but here I still am. Watching this wonderful kid, I want desperately to tell him that he needs to be figuring out his dream now. That now, in his early 20's, is the very best time to be a dreamer - and to dream big. This is the time he needs to be asking himself the big and important questions about the rest of his life.
I know that part of his thinking is wrapped up in making his parents happy, in concerns about making a living and doing all the things he is 'supposed' to do. The pressures that society places on him, that family places on him, that friends place on him. It is a lot of noise to contend with, these conflicting and sometimes strident voices yelling direction but often not much encouragement.
How does this cheerleader for his life make a difference over here in the corner? How do I encourage the dreamer without placing added pressure on the person? I am trying to be subtle in my encouragement - I have sent books on topics I think he will find interesting, I keep from giving him advice when we email, and so far I have resisted the urge to verbally grab him by the shoulders and intently give him my witness of the journey he is on. That we both, really, are on.
Maybe it is enough to be a listener in the wilderness of voices he is navigating. A quiet place where maybe he can get some respite from the din and get his own thoughts in order. I certainly hope so.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Applying On-Line
Okay, I have a complaint. My complaint is with online applications. You know the drill, you hunt through open jobs, you see something you like and you hit the conveniently located "apply" button. Now you have been doing this for a bit, so you have the folder on your desktop that holds the resume file, the cover letter file, the job log you will dutifully record your efforts in. It shouldn't take a lot of effort. Much like the days when you mailed this stuff, right? No! This is much more convenient. Trust me.
Because now you hit that little apply button and you are asked to fill out an online profile. Enter your email. Choose a 'user name' and then a password. Enter the password again. Great! Now enter your first name, your middle initial, and your last name (all in separate boxes, of course). Now your address. Country of residence? Are you legally allowed to work in the US? Yes? Great! Oh, will you need the company in question to sponsor you to stay? No? Fabulous. Hit next.
Okay, now upload your resume. Alternatively, you can copy and paste it in the little box. What? You have a resume file - great, just tell them where it is and upload it. Hit next. Now look at it; see how all the formatting is gone? Take a few minutes and fix that, okay? I know you used the one that wasn't formatted. Still, fix it. Did the resume include ten years of past employment? Good. Did it include your education? Great. They appreciate it if you use all the standard resume stuff. Hit next.
Now upload a copy of your cover letter - or just cut and paste it in the box. Hit next.
Now tell us where you currently work. What is the name of the company? What is your title? What is the address? Who is your supervisor? Phone number? Email address? Can they contact these people? What did you do there? Great. Hit next.
Wait - what? You mean most of that was on the resume? No really, this is important. Did you hit next? Good. Tell them about the job you had before that. All the same questions. I KNOW IT'S ON YOUR RESUME! This is important. Hit next. Now tell them about the job before that job. Please do this for the last five jobs you held or the last ten years of employment. Yes - all of that. Hit next.
Okay. Now they need to ask you a few questions. Remember the job requirements that you were pretty sure you met? They aren't so sure you do. For requirement A, please tell them if you meet the criteria. Just yes or no - yes? Great. Hit next. Tell them now, in less than 2,000 words, what positions on your resume show that. Thanks. Hit next. Please continue until you have answered all of these. Hit next.
Now answer all of these questions about your race, gender, ethnicity, veteran's qualifications and possible disabilities. Hit next.
Okay! Great. Now take a look at everything you just did. Please review it carefully. Look good? Yes? Great. Now if you really want to apply - hit the 'submit' button. Ironic choice of words, that I know. But do it any way.
By the way, thanks for applying. If they think you actually meet the requirements, someone will contact you. If not, you will never hear from them again. There is an upside. If you do get an interview, make it to the stage where you are invited to the company proper to interview people, you will get to do most of that again when they hand you a paper application form and ask you for all the information you filled in on their website.
Because now you hit that little apply button and you are asked to fill out an online profile. Enter your email. Choose a 'user name' and then a password. Enter the password again. Great! Now enter your first name, your middle initial, and your last name (all in separate boxes, of course). Now your address. Country of residence? Are you legally allowed to work in the US? Yes? Great! Oh, will you need the company in question to sponsor you to stay? No? Fabulous. Hit next.
Okay, now upload your resume. Alternatively, you can copy and paste it in the little box. What? You have a resume file - great, just tell them where it is and upload it. Hit next. Now look at it; see how all the formatting is gone? Take a few minutes and fix that, okay? I know you used the one that wasn't formatted. Still, fix it. Did the resume include ten years of past employment? Good. Did it include your education? Great. They appreciate it if you use all the standard resume stuff. Hit next.
Now upload a copy of your cover letter - or just cut and paste it in the box. Hit next.
Now tell us where you currently work. What is the name of the company? What is your title? What is the address? Who is your supervisor? Phone number? Email address? Can they contact these people? What did you do there? Great. Hit next.
Wait - what? You mean most of that was on the resume? No really, this is important. Did you hit next? Good. Tell them about the job you had before that. All the same questions. I KNOW IT'S ON YOUR RESUME! This is important. Hit next. Now tell them about the job before that job. Please do this for the last five jobs you held or the last ten years of employment. Yes - all of that. Hit next.
Okay. Now they need to ask you a few questions. Remember the job requirements that you were pretty sure you met? They aren't so sure you do. For requirement A, please tell them if you meet the criteria. Just yes or no - yes? Great. Hit next. Tell them now, in less than 2,000 words, what positions on your resume show that. Thanks. Hit next. Please continue until you have answered all of these. Hit next.
Now answer all of these questions about your race, gender, ethnicity, veteran's qualifications and possible disabilities. Hit next.
Okay! Great. Now take a look at everything you just did. Please review it carefully. Look good? Yes? Great. Now if you really want to apply - hit the 'submit' button. Ironic choice of words, that I know. But do it any way.
By the way, thanks for applying. If they think you actually meet the requirements, someone will contact you. If not, you will never hear from them again. There is an upside. If you do get an interview, make it to the stage where you are invited to the company proper to interview people, you will get to do most of that again when they hand you a paper application form and ask you for all the information you filled in on their website.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Picky versus Discerning
I got an email from a friend the other day. This is a wonderful, sweet, well meaning person who really does have my best interests at heart. And yet she asked the question that I dread these days "how's the job hunt?" I dread it because there is no easy answer. It is all sorts of complicated, to be honest.
What I ended up replying with was an answer that is honest, but is starting to feel canned. It is along the lines of: still out there, still looking, and while it is a bit scary to be a year out of work, I am not willing to take a slog position. I am holding out for a career. Yes, it sounds a bit weasel worded, I admit; but it is the truth. I am not willing to work at something I hate for an indefinite period of time. It is not fair to the person employing me, and it is not fair to me. I know how defensive that sounds. It is such for a reason.
The same, well meaning friend wrote back and said "yes, but isn't a slog job better than being on the dole?" And there was the phrase that I hate - on the dole. It hits me in the face every time I go to an interview. The present, confident me is sitting there believing that I am interviewing the company as much as they are interviewing me. The little voice in my head is screaming out in desperation "you must nail this! They must offer you the position!" Because if they don't, it means that I am continuing on the dole.
Even when that position turns out to be not what I want, when I turn out not to be the best fit, I worry about how it will be perceived. Am I being too picky? Or am I really being a discerning job hunter looking for her next career position? Truthfully, I am the latter. Truthfully, I am the huntress on the trail of something great, something exciting, something that will make getting out of bed in the morning a joy. Yet, there it is - looming over me - I'm just being too picky.
The same people who have clucked their tongues and shaken their heads over the men I have not dated, not settled down with, are again sighing that I am just too picky. That no one gets to live the dream, so it is better to settle for something - anything - less than optimum, because who knows when another offer is going to come my way.
It is hard, one year out, to hold to my ideals. It is hard, one year out, to keep looking for the right position. It is hard not to take the very next thing offered. When friends are being promoted, when friends are heading off on vacation, when friends are car shopping and shoe shopping and house shopping - it is hard not to feel like I am being picky about where the next paycheck comes from. But the last thing I want is to be back here in six months, a year; to be starting over yet again.
It maybe true that there are only so many chances in the world. I just want to make sure that the next one is the right one.
What I ended up replying with was an answer that is honest, but is starting to feel canned. It is along the lines of: still out there, still looking, and while it is a bit scary to be a year out of work, I am not willing to take a slog position. I am holding out for a career. Yes, it sounds a bit weasel worded, I admit; but it is the truth. I am not willing to work at something I hate for an indefinite period of time. It is not fair to the person employing me, and it is not fair to me. I know how defensive that sounds. It is such for a reason.
The same, well meaning friend wrote back and said "yes, but isn't a slog job better than being on the dole?" And there was the phrase that I hate - on the dole. It hits me in the face every time I go to an interview. The present, confident me is sitting there believing that I am interviewing the company as much as they are interviewing me. The little voice in my head is screaming out in desperation "you must nail this! They must offer you the position!" Because if they don't, it means that I am continuing on the dole.
Even when that position turns out to be not what I want, when I turn out not to be the best fit, I worry about how it will be perceived. Am I being too picky? Or am I really being a discerning job hunter looking for her next career position? Truthfully, I am the latter. Truthfully, I am the huntress on the trail of something great, something exciting, something that will make getting out of bed in the morning a joy. Yet, there it is - looming over me - I'm just being too picky.
The same people who have clucked their tongues and shaken their heads over the men I have not dated, not settled down with, are again sighing that I am just too picky. That no one gets to live the dream, so it is better to settle for something - anything - less than optimum, because who knows when another offer is going to come my way.
It is hard, one year out, to hold to my ideals. It is hard, one year out, to keep looking for the right position. It is hard not to take the very next thing offered. When friends are being promoted, when friends are heading off on vacation, when friends are car shopping and shoe shopping and house shopping - it is hard not to feel like I am being picky about where the next paycheck comes from. But the last thing I want is to be back here in six months, a year; to be starting over yet again.
It maybe true that there are only so many chances in the world. I just want to make sure that the next one is the right one.
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