I’ve typed this intro well over 6 or 7 times now. A couple of times sitting from the comforts of a new home in San Francisco, a few times nestled away in an old familiar coffee shop in Seattle and this time snuggled up in my temporary bed back in San Francisco. The difference between this time and the last 5 or 6 is that I think I’m actually going to finish this one.
Those who know me best (a phrase I use too much), know that for one, I’m not the best at putting thoughts into a few short sentences or paragraphs and two, regardless, each word, sentence and paragraph have a purpose tied to the next, and three although many of my writings are centered on personal experience, my purpose in writing them is to share something deeper. With all of those things said, I think my experience tonight has finally rid me of a little thing those who share their thoughts in words call, “Writers Block”.
I should begin (I mean, I should carry on) by saying I really grappled with what I wanted to share in my next tid-bit of writing. Over the last month I’ve experienced situations and feelings I have yet to fully comprehend which is truthfully something I really wanted to write about and also partially why I couldn’t quite get the words out of my finger tips (something about not yet comprehending a massive overload of experiences and feelings makes for a tough way to write…weird, I know). I thought about writing something about a really neat experience I had with my 10 year old sister, which I still plan to write about, but also hadn’t quite dug deep into the place that makes all of this magical little blog come together and there’s no way I’m going to write about someone as special as my sister without giving it everything I have inside of me.
What brought me to tonight’s post was what some could see as a simple question, but what for me struck a chord that was much deeper and stronger. Tonight I met with and got to know a little more a new friend and in getting to know that new friend we began to discuss a variety of things… business, politics, religion, college experiences, and goals. As we exchanged thoughts, beliefs and desires I began to get that little itch which often asks, “Am I doing everything I want to be doing?” The funny thing about my answer (which happened inside of my head as I both listened and spoke) was, “Yes and No”. Just as these thoughts occurred within, my new friend said to me, “How did you choose a career in sports marketing rather than sports journalism? For someone who loves sports and writing, it seems like a natural fit.” It was at that moment that I literally became speechless which was ironic given a few subjects before we both agreed we rarely find a moment when we find ourselves saying, “I don’t know” when it’s in regards to our own lives. However, for me, at that moment my only response to him was, “I don’t know.”
Truth is, my ego and pride told me that was the best answer, but on the inside I was screaming, “Because I’m afraid I can’t” and, “I don’t know how.” Literally, me, little miss, “All you have to do is believe in yourself” was admitting both fear and self-denial. On the flip side of that, there was another part of me that kept feeling like I wasn’t ready and also that perhaps, while I don’t feel ready, I can’t help but feel that if that’s really what I want to do be doing, then I’m on a far closer track than most people who decide to get a degree in teaching only to decide later it’s not the right path.
I wish I could tell you that this experience tonight brought me to some wild epiphany that results in me becoming the next MLB Network broadcaster (my heart just did flips, no joke at the thought of that), but I can tell you that it’s left me with several thoughts. One of those thoughts includes the fact that, if you’re reading this, whether you’re in high school, fresh out of college, a few years out, just starting your career, or deep into it, it’s never too late (and definitely never too early) to both dream and desire.
I know that where I am today is where I need and truthfully, at this very moment, want to be. However, I also know that there’s a drive deep inside of me that will likely never let-up, that will always want, crave and go after what I feel I’m meant to be doing and what I feel I will enjoy doing most. The beauty in all of this tonight is that I am grateful to be in a situation that allows me to be involved with something I love and know that there’s plenty of opportunity to continue on drawing out my own personal map of life.
Regardless of whether you’re like me, 100% committed to what you’re doing now, or like others, sort of content, but not quite convinced or completely unhappy with where you’re at, just know that it’s always okay to wonder, it’s always okay to want more and most of all it’s ALWAYS okay to want the best situation for you and when you know it feels right and when you know you’re ready… write your next place on your map.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
The Quarter Life Crisis
I always thought the term “Quarter-Life Crisis” was one that was simply meant for making creative invitations to 25th birthday parties or perhaps one used by young women feeling the need for witty attention. After all, what about being twenty-five could possibly be so earth shattering or mind maddening? Your mid twenties are a time of euphoric living. College for those who embarked on it in the timeframe society says we should, has come and gone, career paths are or should be on their way, it’s still appropriate to enjoy a night out with friends except now you’re able to fund a delicious microbrew rather than the cheap domestic on sale at the local mini mart and you’ve either met the love of your life or you’re enjoying the freedom of dating out in the shelter free real world. For many, and for myself included, your mid-twenties are the most independently fun-living times in your life when you really begin to understand that person deep within you’ve been attempting to define your whole life- so what about twenty-five could really be such a crisis? I really had no idea that was until I turned twenty-five.
As I stepped outside a Seattle neighborhood coffee shop, I closed my eyes and breathed in the distinct aromas coming from the shop I’d just left, the Indian restaurant next door and the Thai restaurant a little further down. As I enjoyed the marriage of the smells mixing together, thinking to myself how much I loved the diversity of Seattle, I allowed the perfect 80 degree July day envelope my body. I could hear a woman with an accent that due to my lack of cultural explorations, I’d hate to say which country it belonged to, but I was fairly certain it was bred somewhere in South America. The accent belonged to that of a young woman, no more than 30 years old, beautiful with her dark hair that had not seen a dollop of hair color, her rich brown eyes, her bright smile and a soul that stared right back at me in the brief moment when we caught eyes. In the five second interaction we had there was not a doubt in my mind that this woman had seen far more of the world than I had and as I walked away, sipping my iced latte in hand, I headed back to work with one main thought in mind, “I’m 25 and I have yet to see the world.”
I grew up loving sports and more specifically, baseball. I loved writing and I loved giving back. Growing up there was not a doubt in my mind that I would be the Katie Couric of baseball and through my success I would start my own non-profit foundation. Well, that dream took a back seat as high school went on and I took a bypass road from sports into the world of teaching. During that time I was given a rare opportunity to pursue a job with sports radio and more specifically with the Seattle baseball broadcast, a job I knew I had to have. It took no time for me to leave the days of classroom discipline and lesson plans in the dust as my dream of working in sports had never really left my heart. I’ll never forget the thoughts that ran through my head, “At 23 years old I’ve dabbled in two amazing jobs, both jobs that I cared about.” “At 23 years old I’m on the career path I’ve always dreamed of.” “At 23 years old, I’m living in the city I love, in the neighborhoods I love and with the people I love.” “At 23 years old, what more could I possibly ask for?”
I couldn’t ask for much more at 23, and even at 24, but as 24 came and went, so did the contentment of the job I was working in. The love of my city and my neighborhood was still strong, but it was also comfortable. It’s really no surprise that an entry level job could find a level of complacency in my mind, even if the job itself was surrounded by something I love, I found myself beginning to grow out of the everyday tasks it brought. I was longing, thirsting, and begging for creativity. I was desperate to make more money, which had yet to come after the economic downfall hit and my overall environment wasn’t showing much signs of change. For some people comfortable is a good thing and complacency is desired, but for me, at least at 25, they were two words I absolutely dreaded.
There was a part of me that felt this sudden spark of, “wander lust” and this desperate need for change although I couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a moment of need for selfish desires. After all, I had invested quite a bit of Facebook status updates to profound statements nearly bragging about how happy I was in life, how blessed I felt, how important the power of believing in yourself is, blah, blah, sing, dance, repeat. I kept attempting to go with the motivational talks on the not so motivating days; reminding myself how many people would kill for my job, for my house, for my life! But, still, something inside kept buzzing; something inside kept saying, “You need more. You want more. Go do more.”
I had come up with a number of elaborate ideas for my thoughts on doing more with my life regardless of all I had accomplished between 23 and 24. I’d spent the last year traveling domestically as much as I could, and many would look at my travels as a success given where I went and what I did (all on a very tight budget, mind you). Trips to Hawaii for Halloween, San Francisco to see a best friend, Vegas for New Years, Miami for the Super Bowl, Chicago for the Cubs, San Diego for some fun and anywhere else I could go in-between, I made it happen. I’d found ways to be involved in everything I’m passionate about. I pitched an idea to my work to start a fitness blog which allowed me to be focused on two passions- fitness and writing. I became involved with the community outreach board at my work. I volunteered in a fairly elaborate role with a local charity helping homeless children which allowed me to both help, network and plan events- all things I love. The fitness blog even landed me a potential side job doing personal training with a very new –to-the-market product. To top it all off, my dating life was as strong and fluid as it’s ever been. Usually when I dipped the dating fishing pole into the pond, I came out with duds, but suddenly my line was hot with good looking, successful, and genuinely kind guys- although, just lacking that ever so needed, “spark”. I’m sure as you’re reading this, you’re even saying to yourself, “Ashley, what else on Earth could you possibly want?! You have a great job, you’re involved in things you love, you have a dating life most chicks would kill for, you live in a great city and in a great home, what the hell is your problem!?” My response to you: good question.
I, myself was feeling an enormous amount of guilt and confusion with the thoughts and feelings I was having. Wondering if it was simply because I wasn’t making enough money to comfortably survive (after all, you can really only find a silver living on the pay check to pay check lifestyle for so long), or if it was something more. Was I just a selfish person who didn’t appreciate what I had? I’ve never thought of myself as an overall selfish person, but maybe I was? Or, maybe it was something more. Maybe it was because somewhere between 18 and 25, I began to realize how fascinating life really is out there, and how much of it I had yet to take part in.
At 18 years old, I remember thinking I knew exactly what I was doing with my life. I was convinced that I had myself figured out, was convinced my college choices were all the right ones, my dating choices couldn’t get much better than their mediocre style, and my life was just what it was and I was fine with it. I didn’t really realize I could literally do anything I absolutely set my mind, heart and soul into. Not until I reached my twenties (and yes, I realize that was only a minimum of 2 years later). In fact, it even took a bit of what I called an, “identity crisis” to discover that knowing who you are goes through a number of tests and trials before you really find it and once you do, you’re then faced with every imaginable obstacle out there that will test, test, and test again to see just how well you really figured yourself out. You see, that’s wherein it all begins to lie- as you enter adulthood and you begin to experience the world of independence- whether it’s financially, thoughtfully, emotionally, spiritually, whatever it may be, you begin to learn about all the little intricacies life has to offer.
As all of these thoughts soared through my mind on a daily basis, and on some days, hourly basis, I found myself realizing, my desire for more had nothing to do with being selfish or unappreciative and everything to do with discovering the capacity and potential within myself. You see, at 25, the world, as cliché as it sounds, really can be your oyster. I’ve learned at 25, it’s completely normal to seek change, especially if you go through your first round of major change only to discover all the opportunity that comes with it- it’s pretty hard not to desire more of that opportunity.
So, as I continued on with 25 and thought back to the woman at the coffee shop from time to time, I began having more open discussions with my other 25-something friends who all seemed to be humming the same melody as me, “I need change. I need challenge. I need more to my life.” Suddenly, simply having a job or a career path and a house to live in and a salary to feed ourselves wasn’t enough. Suddenly, we all began to realize our potential and began to discover that our potential was much like a bird with a wingspan larger than the cage we were all locked in; it needed to be set free.
Coming to this realization meant only one thing: time to take that potential to the next level. This is where the crisis becomes less about the crisis itself and more about how to turn the realization into a reality. Knowing this desire for change was all up to me, I set out to find it and was amazed to find just how much the world really can be on your side if you just believe in yourself and what you have to offer and furthermore, what it is you desire. I knew at this point my desire was to work in sports at the next level in my career path and the only places I envisioned that happening was Seattle, San Francisco or San Diego. Little did I know just how quickly that was all going to happen.
One thing you may not know in reading this is that I didn’t just sit down and start writing and get it all done in a day like I do many of my other writings. I began this piece back in July and I’ve slowly chipped away as thoughts arose over the last several months. It is now mid September and after several months of trying to decipher for myself what the quarter-life crisis is really all about and how to overcome it, I’ve finally found a solution for myself.
A few weeks ago, I made plans to visit my best friend in San Francisco. It was that simple- I was just going down to visit a person I adore. After booking my flight, I one day became a little bit curious about sports radio in San Francisco which took me to the internet, which took me to a website, which took me to a career page which right before my eyes was a job description for a job I knew I was qualified for. After a little bit of investigating, I landed myself a job interview, flew down to San Francisco, carried on with my normal plans and went in for an interview that I really didn’t have a major expectation set for. I spent over an hour in that interview and I walked out with a job offer.
Three weeks later, several phone calls later, and a stack of paperwork later, I am now planning to move to San Francisco in a few weeks to take a job in sports in a position that not only doubled my salary, but also takes me to the next level. While I’m sure there will be quite a bit of adjusting that will occur upon arrival, there’s one thing I know for certain: this is exactly the change I was looking for, I just hadn’t quite figured out how to find it.
I knew I needed change. I knew I needed to find something in my life that would validate my potential and cater to my strengths. I knew I needed to explore beyond the comforts of my niche. Granted, there was also a time when I was convinced that needed to happen through dropping everything and traveling the world (which I highly considered if it weren’t for a little thing called: money), but I knew it was time to take a little risk, to take on a little challenge and to do it in a setting that was new and exciting, and for me, that place is San Francisco.
If you’re like me, a 25-something adult who is walking through life gracefully only to hit the wall of, “Why in the world aren’t I satisfied anymore?” Know this, you are NOT alone. I have yet to meet someone around the ages of 25-35 who hasn’t at some point or isn’t going through the same exact thing. At this stage in life, with so much life ahead and a little bit of life behind you, it’s the most natural feeling in the world to have. However, if you do happen to be in a quarter-life crisis situation, then take my advice: Sit down and think about what it is you care about, where it is you want to be and what it is you want to be doing- no matter how crazy, outlandish or unimaginable it seems or feels and no matter how many people question it, figure it out and run with it. The minute you do, you might just find yourself with an incredible opportunity, in an upward moving career path in a city that is completely new to you and you might just love it.
Good luck.
As I stepped outside a Seattle neighborhood coffee shop, I closed my eyes and breathed in the distinct aromas coming from the shop I’d just left, the Indian restaurant next door and the Thai restaurant a little further down. As I enjoyed the marriage of the smells mixing together, thinking to myself how much I loved the diversity of Seattle, I allowed the perfect 80 degree July day envelope my body. I could hear a woman with an accent that due to my lack of cultural explorations, I’d hate to say which country it belonged to, but I was fairly certain it was bred somewhere in South America. The accent belonged to that of a young woman, no more than 30 years old, beautiful with her dark hair that had not seen a dollop of hair color, her rich brown eyes, her bright smile and a soul that stared right back at me in the brief moment when we caught eyes. In the five second interaction we had there was not a doubt in my mind that this woman had seen far more of the world than I had and as I walked away, sipping my iced latte in hand, I headed back to work with one main thought in mind, “I’m 25 and I have yet to see the world.”
I grew up loving sports and more specifically, baseball. I loved writing and I loved giving back. Growing up there was not a doubt in my mind that I would be the Katie Couric of baseball and through my success I would start my own non-profit foundation. Well, that dream took a back seat as high school went on and I took a bypass road from sports into the world of teaching. During that time I was given a rare opportunity to pursue a job with sports radio and more specifically with the Seattle baseball broadcast, a job I knew I had to have. It took no time for me to leave the days of classroom discipline and lesson plans in the dust as my dream of working in sports had never really left my heart. I’ll never forget the thoughts that ran through my head, “At 23 years old I’ve dabbled in two amazing jobs, both jobs that I cared about.” “At 23 years old I’m on the career path I’ve always dreamed of.” “At 23 years old, I’m living in the city I love, in the neighborhoods I love and with the people I love.” “At 23 years old, what more could I possibly ask for?”
I couldn’t ask for much more at 23, and even at 24, but as 24 came and went, so did the contentment of the job I was working in. The love of my city and my neighborhood was still strong, but it was also comfortable. It’s really no surprise that an entry level job could find a level of complacency in my mind, even if the job itself was surrounded by something I love, I found myself beginning to grow out of the everyday tasks it brought. I was longing, thirsting, and begging for creativity. I was desperate to make more money, which had yet to come after the economic downfall hit and my overall environment wasn’t showing much signs of change. For some people comfortable is a good thing and complacency is desired, but for me, at least at 25, they were two words I absolutely dreaded.
There was a part of me that felt this sudden spark of, “wander lust” and this desperate need for change although I couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a moment of need for selfish desires. After all, I had invested quite a bit of Facebook status updates to profound statements nearly bragging about how happy I was in life, how blessed I felt, how important the power of believing in yourself is, blah, blah, sing, dance, repeat. I kept attempting to go with the motivational talks on the not so motivating days; reminding myself how many people would kill for my job, for my house, for my life! But, still, something inside kept buzzing; something inside kept saying, “You need more. You want more. Go do more.”
I had come up with a number of elaborate ideas for my thoughts on doing more with my life regardless of all I had accomplished between 23 and 24. I’d spent the last year traveling domestically as much as I could, and many would look at my travels as a success given where I went and what I did (all on a very tight budget, mind you). Trips to Hawaii for Halloween, San Francisco to see a best friend, Vegas for New Years, Miami for the Super Bowl, Chicago for the Cubs, San Diego for some fun and anywhere else I could go in-between, I made it happen. I’d found ways to be involved in everything I’m passionate about. I pitched an idea to my work to start a fitness blog which allowed me to be focused on two passions- fitness and writing. I became involved with the community outreach board at my work. I volunteered in a fairly elaborate role with a local charity helping homeless children which allowed me to both help, network and plan events- all things I love. The fitness blog even landed me a potential side job doing personal training with a very new –to-the-market product. To top it all off, my dating life was as strong and fluid as it’s ever been. Usually when I dipped the dating fishing pole into the pond, I came out with duds, but suddenly my line was hot with good looking, successful, and genuinely kind guys- although, just lacking that ever so needed, “spark”. I’m sure as you’re reading this, you’re even saying to yourself, “Ashley, what else on Earth could you possibly want?! You have a great job, you’re involved in things you love, you have a dating life most chicks would kill for, you live in a great city and in a great home, what the hell is your problem!?” My response to you: good question.
I, myself was feeling an enormous amount of guilt and confusion with the thoughts and feelings I was having. Wondering if it was simply because I wasn’t making enough money to comfortably survive (after all, you can really only find a silver living on the pay check to pay check lifestyle for so long), or if it was something more. Was I just a selfish person who didn’t appreciate what I had? I’ve never thought of myself as an overall selfish person, but maybe I was? Or, maybe it was something more. Maybe it was because somewhere between 18 and 25, I began to realize how fascinating life really is out there, and how much of it I had yet to take part in.
At 18 years old, I remember thinking I knew exactly what I was doing with my life. I was convinced that I had myself figured out, was convinced my college choices were all the right ones, my dating choices couldn’t get much better than their mediocre style, and my life was just what it was and I was fine with it. I didn’t really realize I could literally do anything I absolutely set my mind, heart and soul into. Not until I reached my twenties (and yes, I realize that was only a minimum of 2 years later). In fact, it even took a bit of what I called an, “identity crisis” to discover that knowing who you are goes through a number of tests and trials before you really find it and once you do, you’re then faced with every imaginable obstacle out there that will test, test, and test again to see just how well you really figured yourself out. You see, that’s wherein it all begins to lie- as you enter adulthood and you begin to experience the world of independence- whether it’s financially, thoughtfully, emotionally, spiritually, whatever it may be, you begin to learn about all the little intricacies life has to offer.
As all of these thoughts soared through my mind on a daily basis, and on some days, hourly basis, I found myself realizing, my desire for more had nothing to do with being selfish or unappreciative and everything to do with discovering the capacity and potential within myself. You see, at 25, the world, as cliché as it sounds, really can be your oyster. I’ve learned at 25, it’s completely normal to seek change, especially if you go through your first round of major change only to discover all the opportunity that comes with it- it’s pretty hard not to desire more of that opportunity.
So, as I continued on with 25 and thought back to the woman at the coffee shop from time to time, I began having more open discussions with my other 25-something friends who all seemed to be humming the same melody as me, “I need change. I need challenge. I need more to my life.” Suddenly, simply having a job or a career path and a house to live in and a salary to feed ourselves wasn’t enough. Suddenly, we all began to realize our potential and began to discover that our potential was much like a bird with a wingspan larger than the cage we were all locked in; it needed to be set free.
Coming to this realization meant only one thing: time to take that potential to the next level. This is where the crisis becomes less about the crisis itself and more about how to turn the realization into a reality. Knowing this desire for change was all up to me, I set out to find it and was amazed to find just how much the world really can be on your side if you just believe in yourself and what you have to offer and furthermore, what it is you desire. I knew at this point my desire was to work in sports at the next level in my career path and the only places I envisioned that happening was Seattle, San Francisco or San Diego. Little did I know just how quickly that was all going to happen.
One thing you may not know in reading this is that I didn’t just sit down and start writing and get it all done in a day like I do many of my other writings. I began this piece back in July and I’ve slowly chipped away as thoughts arose over the last several months. It is now mid September and after several months of trying to decipher for myself what the quarter-life crisis is really all about and how to overcome it, I’ve finally found a solution for myself.
A few weeks ago, I made plans to visit my best friend in San Francisco. It was that simple- I was just going down to visit a person I adore. After booking my flight, I one day became a little bit curious about sports radio in San Francisco which took me to the internet, which took me to a website, which took me to a career page which right before my eyes was a job description for a job I knew I was qualified for. After a little bit of investigating, I landed myself a job interview, flew down to San Francisco, carried on with my normal plans and went in for an interview that I really didn’t have a major expectation set for. I spent over an hour in that interview and I walked out with a job offer.
Three weeks later, several phone calls later, and a stack of paperwork later, I am now planning to move to San Francisco in a few weeks to take a job in sports in a position that not only doubled my salary, but also takes me to the next level. While I’m sure there will be quite a bit of adjusting that will occur upon arrival, there’s one thing I know for certain: this is exactly the change I was looking for, I just hadn’t quite figured out how to find it.
I knew I needed change. I knew I needed to find something in my life that would validate my potential and cater to my strengths. I knew I needed to explore beyond the comforts of my niche. Granted, there was also a time when I was convinced that needed to happen through dropping everything and traveling the world (which I highly considered if it weren’t for a little thing called: money), but I knew it was time to take a little risk, to take on a little challenge and to do it in a setting that was new and exciting, and for me, that place is San Francisco.
If you’re like me, a 25-something adult who is walking through life gracefully only to hit the wall of, “Why in the world aren’t I satisfied anymore?” Know this, you are NOT alone. I have yet to meet someone around the ages of 25-35 who hasn’t at some point or isn’t going through the same exact thing. At this stage in life, with so much life ahead and a little bit of life behind you, it’s the most natural feeling in the world to have. However, if you do happen to be in a quarter-life crisis situation, then take my advice: Sit down and think about what it is you care about, where it is you want to be and what it is you want to be doing- no matter how crazy, outlandish or unimaginable it seems or feels and no matter how many people question it, figure it out and run with it. The minute you do, you might just find yourself with an incredible opportunity, in an upward moving career path in a city that is completely new to you and you might just love it.
Good luck.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
The Lunch Hour
The lunch hour is one of those moments in the day that many desk sitting Nine-to-Fivers take for granted. It's the time in the day that can often be passed by eating microwaveable meals at a desk, or used as nothing more than a quick moment to grab a $5 foot long up the street. But, it's always been my belief that the lunch hour is the most sacred part of the work day. It's the time you take to escape from the reality of whatever it is that's consuming you for eight hours. Whatever takes over your thoughts, your priorities, your dreams, your inspirations. It's the moment to let them all come back to fruit, the moment when you can take a step out of the stress and enjoy whatever it is that fulfills you- even if all that is, is simply Teriyaki in a styrafoam box.
Today, I decided to escape for my lunch hour to none other than my neighborhood. Having already nibbled on my lunch throughout the day at my desk, I decided I wanted nothing more than an ice tea and my latest paperback read. But, as I stood outside the once-local, now-global coffee joint many Seattlites know as the Evil Coffee Empire, I found myself not only enjoying the flow of voice and words from the author I was immersed in, I also found myself curiously and happily distracted by a copious amount of things happening around me. For some, this would be a bother, for me it was both refreshing and intriguing.
My first distraction came from that of a young woman, probably no more than 21, no less than 18 crudely saying while spitting a loogey on the ground, "Where's the fucking Starbucks?" (which happened to be right in front of her face). With her tummy quite obviously hanging out and her pants far too low, I tried so hard to let judgments that came to mind go as quickly as they entered, but I found myself wondering about her. Wondering what her childhood was like. Wondering what her family was like. Wondering what in her life caused her to feel like she had to act so, "tough". It was then that she immediately came out of "The Locally Global Evil Coffee Empire" and said to her friend, "I can't go in there, EVERYONE is looking at me." And at that moment a rush of guilt came over me as I knew I was one of them. She soon disappeared with her friend and I continued on with my reading, still wondering about her- that was of course until a woman sat down in the chair that once cushioned the seat of the girl who spat and I knew this because the first words from the new woman were, "There's spit all over this table!"
I assume the new woman cleaned whatever mess bothered her, because she ended up sitting down with her school of children that were all her daughters. I read away, focused on the dialogue in my book, coming in and out of listening to the woman's daughters beg for a chocolate chip cookie and then found myself distracted by the number of other little girls who passed by with their moms who happened to know these daughters of the woman sitting down. I made the assumption that they went to one of the local schools there in my neighborhood- trying to decide if it was the public school or the private and then being taken back to the good old days of school year summers when your biggest worry was wether or not you could have a chocolate chip cookie. As the table full of daughters and a mom continued on, I continued on reading, until once again I found myself distracted- this time by a homeless man.
This homeless man is a man anyone from my neighborhood would recognize. He spends his days walking up and down the streets, talking to whoever and whatever is around him, head phones in his ears, but always aware of his surroundings. To many he may seem abrasive, but I've never seen him hurt a fly and when he smiles it's big enough to light up a room. Although his deep, sultry voice and sentences that don't always make sense may deem him, "crazy" to many, there's a side of him I witnessed today that warmed my heart. A random pedestrian walked by and threw his cigarette into the garbage can- however, the cigarette was still lit. The homeless man stopped the pedestrian and said, "Sir, sir, your cigarette is still lit! Don't worry, you don't put your hand in there, it's dirty, I'll get it out for you." So, he did. He put his hand in the trash, took out the cigarette that was in fact still partially lit and stepped on it on the ground and threw it away- not asking for a dime. He then pulled out a half full coffee cup which I overheard the mom with the daughters say, "Oh, look, he got a free coffee". But, the homeless man wasn't pulling the coffee out to drink, he pulled it out to pour the contents out into the dirt nearby. I know to some this seems silly, but to your everyday garbage man, this is a random act of kindness. The homeless man went on his way, and as he walked on, then came the most adorable couple I've seen in a long time.
They weren't hard to miss, although they were short and little in stature, the way they looked hand in hand, side by side could take your breath away. A man and a woman no younger than 75, grey haired, with just the perfect amount of age lines- lines that spelled, "Happiness, joy, life and wisdom". They both smiled with pure contentment and I remember my entire heart filling up and thinking, "That's what I want to find one day." As they walked on, the husband pulled his wife in closer towards him and wrapped his arm around her waist and they continued on their merry way. I couldn't help but wonder if they noticed that every person who walked by them smiled as big as I did.
The last of my sightings all left me with just as many thoughts as the others. The woman running to catch her bus- I sat and wondered if she'd make it, and was happy to see she would thanks to a man asking the bus driver to wait for the woman who was a stranger to him. I loved knowing that the simple act of asking someone to wait may have just saved the bus woman from a hellish day. Then, there was the lady in the bagel shop window dressed to the nines as what many from the Northwest would call a, "stereotypical Southern Bell", she had a sun cap and dress on, hair curled with red lips to match her red lined dress and in her lap was a basket with none other than a kitten inside which of course made the table with the daughters squeal with cutness. It was at that moment I thought to myself, "Am I living in some kind of novel?"
At that point, I finally accepted that the distractions around me were preventing me from retaining anything I was reading in my book I loved so much. For many, distractions are annoyances, but for me they filled my hour lunch break with so much curiosity, so much thought, and even a fair bit of optimism that I could care less if it meant I had to go back and read the 20 pages I thought I had taken in, it was well worth every moment. With that said, I think I'll return back to that "Evil Coffee Empire" in my neighborhood again for a lunch break tomorrow.
Today, I decided to escape for my lunch hour to none other than my neighborhood. Having already nibbled on my lunch throughout the day at my desk, I decided I wanted nothing more than an ice tea and my latest paperback read. But, as I stood outside the once-local, now-global coffee joint many Seattlites know as the Evil Coffee Empire, I found myself not only enjoying the flow of voice and words from the author I was immersed in, I also found myself curiously and happily distracted by a copious amount of things happening around me. For some, this would be a bother, for me it was both refreshing and intriguing.
My first distraction came from that of a young woman, probably no more than 21, no less than 18 crudely saying while spitting a loogey on the ground, "Where's the fucking Starbucks?" (which happened to be right in front of her face). With her tummy quite obviously hanging out and her pants far too low, I tried so hard to let judgments that came to mind go as quickly as they entered, but I found myself wondering about her. Wondering what her childhood was like. Wondering what her family was like. Wondering what in her life caused her to feel like she had to act so, "tough". It was then that she immediately came out of "The Locally Global Evil Coffee Empire" and said to her friend, "I can't go in there, EVERYONE is looking at me." And at that moment a rush of guilt came over me as I knew I was one of them. She soon disappeared with her friend and I continued on with my reading, still wondering about her- that was of course until a woman sat down in the chair that once cushioned the seat of the girl who spat and I knew this because the first words from the new woman were, "There's spit all over this table!"
I assume the new woman cleaned whatever mess bothered her, because she ended up sitting down with her school of children that were all her daughters. I read away, focused on the dialogue in my book, coming in and out of listening to the woman's daughters beg for a chocolate chip cookie and then found myself distracted by the number of other little girls who passed by with their moms who happened to know these daughters of the woman sitting down. I made the assumption that they went to one of the local schools there in my neighborhood- trying to decide if it was the public school or the private and then being taken back to the good old days of school year summers when your biggest worry was wether or not you could have a chocolate chip cookie. As the table full of daughters and a mom continued on, I continued on reading, until once again I found myself distracted- this time by a homeless man.
This homeless man is a man anyone from my neighborhood would recognize. He spends his days walking up and down the streets, talking to whoever and whatever is around him, head phones in his ears, but always aware of his surroundings. To many he may seem abrasive, but I've never seen him hurt a fly and when he smiles it's big enough to light up a room. Although his deep, sultry voice and sentences that don't always make sense may deem him, "crazy" to many, there's a side of him I witnessed today that warmed my heart. A random pedestrian walked by and threw his cigarette into the garbage can- however, the cigarette was still lit. The homeless man stopped the pedestrian and said, "Sir, sir, your cigarette is still lit! Don't worry, you don't put your hand in there, it's dirty, I'll get it out for you." So, he did. He put his hand in the trash, took out the cigarette that was in fact still partially lit and stepped on it on the ground and threw it away- not asking for a dime. He then pulled out a half full coffee cup which I overheard the mom with the daughters say, "Oh, look, he got a free coffee". But, the homeless man wasn't pulling the coffee out to drink, he pulled it out to pour the contents out into the dirt nearby. I know to some this seems silly, but to your everyday garbage man, this is a random act of kindness. The homeless man went on his way, and as he walked on, then came the most adorable couple I've seen in a long time.
They weren't hard to miss, although they were short and little in stature, the way they looked hand in hand, side by side could take your breath away. A man and a woman no younger than 75, grey haired, with just the perfect amount of age lines- lines that spelled, "Happiness, joy, life and wisdom". They both smiled with pure contentment and I remember my entire heart filling up and thinking, "That's what I want to find one day." As they walked on, the husband pulled his wife in closer towards him and wrapped his arm around her waist and they continued on their merry way. I couldn't help but wonder if they noticed that every person who walked by them smiled as big as I did.
The last of my sightings all left me with just as many thoughts as the others. The woman running to catch her bus- I sat and wondered if she'd make it, and was happy to see she would thanks to a man asking the bus driver to wait for the woman who was a stranger to him. I loved knowing that the simple act of asking someone to wait may have just saved the bus woman from a hellish day. Then, there was the lady in the bagel shop window dressed to the nines as what many from the Northwest would call a, "stereotypical Southern Bell", she had a sun cap and dress on, hair curled with red lips to match her red lined dress and in her lap was a basket with none other than a kitten inside which of course made the table with the daughters squeal with cutness. It was at that moment I thought to myself, "Am I living in some kind of novel?"
At that point, I finally accepted that the distractions around me were preventing me from retaining anything I was reading in my book I loved so much. For many, distractions are annoyances, but for me they filled my hour lunch break with so much curiosity, so much thought, and even a fair bit of optimism that I could care less if it meant I had to go back and read the 20 pages I thought I had taken in, it was well worth every moment. With that said, I think I'll return back to that "Evil Coffee Empire" in my neighborhood again for a lunch break tomorrow.
Monday, July 5, 2010
I Used To
I used to be afraid to fly, now I enjoy the majesticness of being 30,000 feet above the ground, soaring through the clouds.
I used to be a little bit negative about some elements of life, but in the last few years I've found positivity really does create good results.
I used to be caught up in what's happened in the past and what will happen in the future, but instead have learned the most important time is the present.
I used to say I wasn't much of a reader, but recently I finished a 300 page book in less than a day.
I used to say I wasn't a runner, but each day I run a little more.
I used to say I'd never have a chance to work in sports, but 2 years ago I landed my current job in Mariners Radio.
I used to think the only guys I'd date weren't always the nicest guys, but these days the only guys I seem to be meeting are nice guys.
I used to think my writing was only something I enjoy, but I now enjoy sharing it with others.
I used to think I'd never have a good realtionship with certain people in my life, but those relationships are better than they've ever been.
I used to think I'd never get a chance to travel as much as I'd like, but I've spent the last year traveling more than I ever have with plans to do even more in the future.
I used to think religion had all the answers, but I've come to realize that most answers come from within.
I used to care what other people thought, but have found the only thoughts that matter are your own.
I used to say, think and be a lot of things that I don't and I'm not today and tomorrow I may say, think or be a lot of things I didn't and wasn't yesterday. However, one thing I know I will always say, is be kind. One thing I will always think is that positivity is the key to success and one thing I will always be is me.
I used to be a little bit negative about some elements of life, but in the last few years I've found positivity really does create good results.
I used to be caught up in what's happened in the past and what will happen in the future, but instead have learned the most important time is the present.
I used to say I wasn't much of a reader, but recently I finished a 300 page book in less than a day.
I used to say I wasn't a runner, but each day I run a little more.
I used to say I'd never have a chance to work in sports, but 2 years ago I landed my current job in Mariners Radio.
I used to think the only guys I'd date weren't always the nicest guys, but these days the only guys I seem to be meeting are nice guys.
I used to think my writing was only something I enjoy, but I now enjoy sharing it with others.
I used to think I'd never have a good realtionship with certain people in my life, but those relationships are better than they've ever been.
I used to think I'd never get a chance to travel as much as I'd like, but I've spent the last year traveling more than I ever have with plans to do even more in the future.
I used to think religion had all the answers, but I've come to realize that most answers come from within.
I used to care what other people thought, but have found the only thoughts that matter are your own.
I used to say, think and be a lot of things that I don't and I'm not today and tomorrow I may say, think or be a lot of things I didn't and wasn't yesterday. However, one thing I know I will always say, is be kind. One thing I will always think is that positivity is the key to success and one thing I will always be is me.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
I am...
I am extroverted, yet introverted with thoughts.
I am selfless, yet selfish with some aspects of my life.
I am patient, yet learning to decrease impatience in certain situations.
I am strong, yet I have moments of weakness.
I am independent, yet I crave dependence at times.
I am romantic, yet I make love jokes.
I am witty, yet I crave serious conversation.
I am carefree, yet I need structure.
I am calm, yet I get excited about many things.
I am confident, yet I have a couple insecurities.
I am brave, yet I am afraid of unfamiliar territory.
I am a dreamer, yet I haven’t made some a reality.
I am introspective, yet I share most thoughts with everyone.
I am intelligent, yet I make mindless mistakes.
I am honest, yet I’ve lied before.
I am learning, yet I like to think I know it all when I know I don’t.
I am kind, yet I’ve hurt others even if it wasn’t intentional.
I am compassionate, yet I’ve lacked it in situations when I shouldn’t have.
I know I am all of these things, because most of us are. Most of us are these things, because we are all human.
I am selfless, yet selfish with some aspects of my life.
I am patient, yet learning to decrease impatience in certain situations.
I am strong, yet I have moments of weakness.
I am independent, yet I crave dependence at times.
I am romantic, yet I make love jokes.
I am witty, yet I crave serious conversation.
I am carefree, yet I need structure.
I am calm, yet I get excited about many things.
I am confident, yet I have a couple insecurities.
I am brave, yet I am afraid of unfamiliar territory.
I am a dreamer, yet I haven’t made some a reality.
I am introspective, yet I share most thoughts with everyone.
I am intelligent, yet I make mindless mistakes.
I am honest, yet I’ve lied before.
I am learning, yet I like to think I know it all when I know I don’t.
I am kind, yet I’ve hurt others even if it wasn’t intentional.
I am compassionate, yet I’ve lacked it in situations when I shouldn’t have.
I know I am all of these things, because most of us are. Most of us are these things, because we are all human.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Unconditional Happiness
Looks a stranger in the eye and exchanges a genuine smile
Brings warmth through the entire body
Let’s go of every thought of jealousy, spitefulness, fear, remorse, anger and impatience
Lives in the moment as it is happening
Smiles for no reason
Hugs longer and tighter
Goes after dreams and passions
Knows what will be, will be
Says I love you
Forgives… everyone
Wears a positive attitude
Is thankful… for everything
Depends on no one but itself
Unconditional happiness comes from YOU.
Find it. Live it. Love it.
Brings warmth through the entire body
Let’s go of every thought of jealousy, spitefulness, fear, remorse, anger and impatience
Lives in the moment as it is happening
Smiles for no reason
Hugs longer and tighter
Goes after dreams and passions
Knows what will be, will be
Says I love you
Forgives… everyone
Wears a positive attitude
Is thankful… for everything
Depends on no one but itself
Unconditional happiness comes from YOU.
Find it. Live it. Love it.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Hawaiian Memories
I remember at 12 years old stepping off the plane, greeted by the encapsulating warm air all around me and fragrant skies blowing with the light scent of plumeria trees- a flower and scent I have taken on as one of my favorites. I remember the sand feeling like no sand I’ve ever stepped foot on- warm, soft, white, and in some areas golden and coarse, but still perfect in it’s own special way. I remember meeting a woman by the name of Maile who helped me string my first lei and later became my pen pal for over a year. I remember by first real experience with the power and strength of the ocean, as an unexpected wave on Waikiki sucked me under and gave me the sand wedgie of a lifetime. I remember salt in my eyes, and the taste on my lips, and I remember hardly caring when turning around to see the purple, pink and golden sunset behind me. I remember crying boarding the plane, crying on the plane and crying when I returned home. In fact, I remember quietly sobbing for a good week after that first trip at 12 years old. I remember- it was the first time I fell in love.
I remember going back, only this time to explore more islands. I hiked a volcano on the Big Island, drove the Road to Hana on Maui, visited the town my mom bought me my first (and last) bird named, Kihei. I remember hikes and waterfalls, beautiful palm trees, long drives around each island, red dirt and countryside unlike any other countryside I’d ever seen. I remember Hawaiian crushes and fantasies of coming back one day with friends and someday a lover.
I remember a trip with friends after high school- a touristy time, but a fun time nonetheless. Dolphin cruises, luaus, Pearl Harbor stories, Hula Pies at Dukes (always a must), and a snorkeling session resulting in a fried back. I remember feeling gracious for spending another time on the islands, but feeling as if my touristy days were behind me, as I wanted to experience everything else magical about the islands.
I remember after college heading back to Oahu to visit a friend who had moved there. I recall living up the Honolulu night life for a night or two, treks to the local hang outs, copious amounts of Long Board Lagers (my favorite brew), and $1.50 hot togs and Poke from Costco. I remember a North Shore hike, tossing the football at Sandy’s, a romantic date with chocolate and vino on the beach with a once Coloradonian turned Hawaii resident. I remember shrimp trucks on the drive back from North Shore and making friends with a wild cat (a common find around the islands). I remember climbing trees, jumping in the ocean after sunset and the perfect stillness that you can find even after a fun time with old and new friends.
I remember coming back to Oahu to visit that same friend, only this time with my best friend in tow. I remember watching them meet for the first time, fall for each other and later fall in love (that friend ahs since moved back to the mainland ). I remember nights on Diamond Head Beach spent with flips and jumps, pictures taken with a beach treasure (a child’s floatation device). I remember island driving again, and stops at random beaches. Climbing rocks in nothing more than a bathing suit and flip flops, jumping in waves, hiking up hills and picturesque views that not only took my breath away, but sent my mind into a thoughtful world of, “I can’t believe such beauty exists and I get to see it”. I recall another trip back to Maui. More random beaches, adorable towns, and searching for heart shaped rocks. I remember having no desire to leave and still wear my first pair of Locals purchased on that trip (I’m wearing them as I write this oddly and unplanned enough).
I remember my most recent trip back to the islands- a whole week spent on Oahu with my roommate and not one single plan except to wake up and see where the wind took us each day. It took us all over the island with days rarely spent in Honolulu or Waikiki (until of course the night). Treks down the LikeLike, H1, and Pali. Days spent in Kailua, Lanikai and Waimea. I recall stopping at any beach that looked ready for us, reading until my eyes burned, listening to the soft sounds of Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, John Mayer and the chill beats of Hawiian Reggae until my iPod lost it’s life. I remember the unbearable amount of joy I felt as I sat on Waikiki the first day we arrived, and hearing my all time favorite Hawaiian band, Ten Feet playing in the distance and having the chance to watch them live that night again another night and later enjoying a night of beers with them (a great group of people). I remember a swim in a waterfall, and a hike through a luscious rainforest. I remember Acai Bowls for breakfast, Spam Musubi for lunch and Kahlua Pork for dinner all washed down with a Long Board or Lava Flow. I remember the surf ready swells of Pipeline and Sunset and watching the boards and souls take on the mighty pipes as surf season came rolling in. I remember solo walks on the beach in the mornings followed by coffee and writing while gazing out at the turquoise Pacific Ocean waters. I remember a Halloween night spent as a Seahawks player and the streets of Waikiki filled like I’d never seen before. I remember making great friends that trip and I remember, yet again, not wanting to leave.
I’ve never met a person who doesn’t enjoy Hawaii, but for me, Hawaii holds a place in my heart that I simply can’t explain. It’s like every ounce of beauty on the island reaches deep into my soul and wraps it’s scents, sounds, colors, aura, hospitality, and kindness all around me- a pretty tough thing not to be in love with and a place I’ll continue to make memories at for a lifetime.
I remember going back, only this time to explore more islands. I hiked a volcano on the Big Island, drove the Road to Hana on Maui, visited the town my mom bought me my first (and last) bird named, Kihei. I remember hikes and waterfalls, beautiful palm trees, long drives around each island, red dirt and countryside unlike any other countryside I’d ever seen. I remember Hawaiian crushes and fantasies of coming back one day with friends and someday a lover.
I remember a trip with friends after high school- a touristy time, but a fun time nonetheless. Dolphin cruises, luaus, Pearl Harbor stories, Hula Pies at Dukes (always a must), and a snorkeling session resulting in a fried back. I remember feeling gracious for spending another time on the islands, but feeling as if my touristy days were behind me, as I wanted to experience everything else magical about the islands.
I remember after college heading back to Oahu to visit a friend who had moved there. I recall living up the Honolulu night life for a night or two, treks to the local hang outs, copious amounts of Long Board Lagers (my favorite brew), and $1.50 hot togs and Poke from Costco. I remember a North Shore hike, tossing the football at Sandy’s, a romantic date with chocolate and vino on the beach with a once Coloradonian turned Hawaii resident. I remember shrimp trucks on the drive back from North Shore and making friends with a wild cat (a common find around the islands). I remember climbing trees, jumping in the ocean after sunset and the perfect stillness that you can find even after a fun time with old and new friends.
I remember coming back to Oahu to visit that same friend, only this time with my best friend in tow. I remember watching them meet for the first time, fall for each other and later fall in love (that friend ahs since moved back to the mainland ). I remember nights on Diamond Head Beach spent with flips and jumps, pictures taken with a beach treasure (a child’s floatation device). I remember island driving again, and stops at random beaches. Climbing rocks in nothing more than a bathing suit and flip flops, jumping in waves, hiking up hills and picturesque views that not only took my breath away, but sent my mind into a thoughtful world of, “I can’t believe such beauty exists and I get to see it”. I recall another trip back to Maui. More random beaches, adorable towns, and searching for heart shaped rocks. I remember having no desire to leave and still wear my first pair of Locals purchased on that trip (I’m wearing them as I write this oddly and unplanned enough).
I remember my most recent trip back to the islands- a whole week spent on Oahu with my roommate and not one single plan except to wake up and see where the wind took us each day. It took us all over the island with days rarely spent in Honolulu or Waikiki (until of course the night). Treks down the LikeLike, H1, and Pali. Days spent in Kailua, Lanikai and Waimea. I recall stopping at any beach that looked ready for us, reading until my eyes burned, listening to the soft sounds of Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, John Mayer and the chill beats of Hawiian Reggae until my iPod lost it’s life. I remember the unbearable amount of joy I felt as I sat on Waikiki the first day we arrived, and hearing my all time favorite Hawaiian band, Ten Feet playing in the distance and having the chance to watch them live that night again another night and later enjoying a night of beers with them (a great group of people). I remember a swim in a waterfall, and a hike through a luscious rainforest. I remember Acai Bowls for breakfast, Spam Musubi for lunch and Kahlua Pork for dinner all washed down with a Long Board or Lava Flow. I remember the surf ready swells of Pipeline and Sunset and watching the boards and souls take on the mighty pipes as surf season came rolling in. I remember solo walks on the beach in the mornings followed by coffee and writing while gazing out at the turquoise Pacific Ocean waters. I remember a Halloween night spent as a Seahawks player and the streets of Waikiki filled like I’d never seen before. I remember making great friends that trip and I remember, yet again, not wanting to leave.
I’ve never met a person who doesn’t enjoy Hawaii, but for me, Hawaii holds a place in my heart that I simply can’t explain. It’s like every ounce of beauty on the island reaches deep into my soul and wraps it’s scents, sounds, colors, aura, hospitality, and kindness all around me- a pretty tough thing not to be in love with and a place I’ll continue to make memories at for a lifetime.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)