lessons learned, things remembered

So I had a pretty crappy day at work on Thursday. It involved being threatened for an error that was not my fault in the context of my generally hostile work environment and although at the end of the day, it turned out not to be an issue, I was still exhausted by being all worked up and tense for most of the day. Normally, I would not put up with this stuff, but since I am in an environment that is totally unfamiliar to me, I didn't know not to worry. One of my housemates told me I needed to do a better job of standing up for myself. Yes, I know, but again, I lacked information, I didn't know what the issues were or where responsibilities lied. Plus, I believe that a lot of it was due to some bullying on the part of stupid coworkers.

Really, I have screwed up in a lot of ways here in the Iowhat. I should have approached the whole experience as living in a different country, as I have on many occassions. I know the feeling of being lost, both literally and figuratively. It was silly of me to expect that, being in my own country that things would be different. There's not a lot of people from outside of Iowhat in Iowhat, so when a "foreigner" comes in who didn't go to one of the universities here, or high school, or grow up on a hog farm, or go to the state wrestling tournament growing up, people are suspicious and hostile. The perceived warmness that one expects from Midwesterners fades into the silent treatment. Some have theorized that it has to do with an inferiority complex. Another possiblity is that Iowans are concerned about losing their way of life, though given my generation's affinity for Banana Republic, martinis, and the suburbs, this process was well underway before Amischwab and his housemates showed up. So I screwed up from the start by not playing stupid and allowing people to be my teachers, like I usually do when I go to a new country. No, I just acted normal, which didn't go over too well. I grew up on the coast, so I tend to be more direct and less chit-chatty. I do not begin every conversation during the day with "Hey, what's up?" I have formal phone and e-mail skills/habits. I don't smile a lot. And I am sarcastic and don't make a big deal out of small things. People here act like everything they do (and there are of course exceptions) is a huge favor. Additionally, I would say 90% of people don't get sarcasm, like, you have to explain to them that you were joking. All in all, this does not mesh too well with my personality. Additionally, constructs of gender roles as well as life-paths if you will (i.e. go to college, get a job, get married, have kids, buy house and 2 cars, vacation in Disney World--all by the age of 30. Well, granted I could achieve this by 30, as I am only 26, but I don't really want to. I have never really wanted to live a traditional life, though I often wish I could be content with that, but the fact of the matter is, my life experience has caused we to seek something different. So in that way, I am a bit of an oddity here.

I often think people adopt so-called "extreme" identities because they simply do not fit-in and as a reaction or defense, make the decision to REALLY not fit in, often with external cues, like, uh, pink hair (I dunno, that example just occurred to me). I think this is fine and if this helps people feel better, than more power to them. I wish it worked for me. And realizing that these surface signs do not work for me, I guess I assume they don't work for others, which is probably why I really try and get to know people because I want to know what motivates them, what makes them tick, what makes them excited, what they are sad about, and what they hope for. Actually, this is not completely accurate. Perhaps it might be better to say that this is why I do not judge people by appearances (though if you know me, you'll also know that I do have standards for certain occassions, but anyway) and why I will be on the bus, or a train, or at a bar and some random person will just sit down next to me and tell me their life story. Shoot, I was talking to an upholstery person to get a chair picked up and by the end of the conversation, I was wrapped up in his family drama.

So I guess the point is, I've learned a lesson here. The way I approached things before actually kind of works. Too bad I didn't approach it that way here, though I don't think I would end up staying here anyway. Hopefully, on my next adventure, I will remember these important lessons and perhaps more importantly, have confidence in myself, which has been at an all-time low.

wide open spaces

To be totally honest I expect nothing from this trip. I do not even think it will be that enjoyable. Yes, it will be nice to see family and friends. It will be nice to get away from the snow. Otherwise, I have no hope or belief that it will bring something more.

I am sitting at the Denver airport. The horizon is defined not by fields as it is in Iowa, but by the Rocky Mountains. When I lived here, I never found them that remarkable. It is true that they are mighty, springing up from the plains out of nowhere. At the same time, to me they do not compare to the volcanoes of the Pacific Northwest that tower above mighty rivers that flow into the expanse of the Pacific. This morning, however, they are magnificent. Again, I never sat and looked at them before. Perhaps I was too wrapped up in other things while I was here. I did not pay attention to a lot of things when I was in Denver. I never thought it would be a significant place in my journey, but given the events of the past year, it turned out to have been stage of some major scenes.

Living in different places as well as travel for me has little to do with location, though I have enjoyed what cities ranging from Washington, DC to Berlin and Windhoek to Prague have had to offer in terms of culture and climate. How I long for a hot afternoon in February in Namibia! Picture sitting by the pool in the desert with a gin and tonic. After the blizzard, that sounds about as close to paradise as I can imagine. That aside, it is who I have met that has made the difference. These people who have enabled me to see myself and see beyond myself have made all the difference. In Iowa, I must admit that there has been more of the former, which has been excruciating at times. There is no truly other word to describe it. I have been accompanied to new depths by those at that stopping point and I have gone deeper all by myself. At times, I have felt weighed down by people who seemed more like psychotherapy patients than friends. I realized that as I consoled them, I was counseling myself. As I explained what I had learned from years of what can be best described as hard living, I was teaching it to myself all over again. There was so much I had not noticed and so much I had forgotten.

For one, I have ceased to believe in signs in Iowa. So-called signs seemed to point me in a variety of directions during my time there. These ways turned out to be dead ends at the end of very rough roads. Kraeutle says there are still signs, but it depends on how we interpret them. Perhaps he is correct and I was just too compulsive or even frivolous in identifying signs.

On my flight from Omaha to Denver, I slept for most of the way, but as we were landing the man next to me asked where I was going. I told him I was going to Portland. As a friendly gesture, I returned the question. He was going to Seattle. Yes, I would be going there on Wednesday as well. The conversation continued and it turned out he actually lived in a suburb of Tacoma and his mother had worked for 25 years at the company where I have an informational interview on Friday. Six months ago, I believe that the silly me would have thought that perhaps this connection meant something, in other words, it was a sign that something might come out of this. Now I just think the world is small and full of coincidences. It was a teachable moment in that sense.

You might recall from writings and photos what a fantastic social life I had in Denver. For a short time, my paths crossed with those of some brilliant, fun, and caring people. At same time, our lives remained parallel in many respects. In graduate school, one is so focused on one’s career and there is a great deal of internal and external pressure. We had our time here filled with late nights in the library, later nights at one of the hundreds of great bars and lounges Denver has to offer, and yet again, even later nights that turned into mornings at the library. Now we are all scattered throughout the world—from West Africa to California to Manhattan. We chat, we comment on each other’s blogs and myspace pages, and there is the occasional phone call. The lines of our lives that intersected for a brief moment have now taken other tangents. Perhaps they will cross again, but certainly not in the way they did here. We will meet for a martini at the Bar Rouge in DC or spend a weekend in Seattle together, we will laugh and reminisce, and our lines will then swerve in another direction once again, just as they swerved into each other here in Denver.

Today this city is just a stopping point and I will not even leave the terminal. The expanse of the plains and the towering Rockies have reminded me of Wide Open Spaces—that song that so simply says so much about growth, growing up, and moving on. In front of these mountains this land is so flat I truly feel like I can stretch my arms again and take off with wings that have been frozen during a chilling winter. Though they were broken and stiff for so long, they still have strength. Are airports, fellow passengers, and airplanes signs of things to come? I do not believe so. They are simply a coincidental backdrop to my own takeoff.

As I step onto the airplane for my next flight, I will.

another day

it is an overcast, dark morning here in the iowhat. Right now, it is drizzling, but blizzard conditions are expected later. Sweet!

I believe that most of my colleagues are scouring the supply cabinet to find blunt objects with which to end their own lives as they find this weather totally depressing. I, on the other hand, am surprisingly chipper. Perhaps this is due to growing up in a place where it was like this all the time. I told a coworker about my freshman year of college when we had 100 days straight without sun. Now that was a little much, but otherwise, you just drink a lot of coffee and light candles. These are the tools of survival in the Pacific Northwest. It is true, they are not as sexy as those with more extreme weather: snow blowers, plows, rock salt, gravel. Whoah, I am feeling a little woozy thinking about how amazing it must be to operate a snow blower. A snow blower is definitely better than a candle.

I just turned around and looked out the window. The Seattle weather is gone. It is now snowing. Someone told me they are closing the interstate at noon. The Apocalypse of winter, let us hope. It seems like no one is working but rather staring at sattelite images. Seriously, I just walked through the cubes and everyone was looking at the dopplar.

(Note to self: Pills, The Perishers—good song—how did it end up on my iPod? Anyone?)

In many respects, this is like living in a foreign country. The hardest part of living abroad are not the things you notice, but the things you do not notice, or perhaps more accurately, you do not notice and people do not notice that you do not notice. So here I am, a west side kid who has no f-ing clue what the deal with the weather is. like, do people go home early? will they tell me to go home? or will i pop my head out of the cube at noon and find myself totally alone in this huge building because they assumed i would know what to do?

people are starting to leave. the slush is beginning to turn into ice. wtf? i guess i gotta wait.