The Northward Contrail

On moments for us

A lot's happened in the time since I last posted, and most of it's been good. There continue to be some annoyances, but most of them are trifling. The rest of life in this year 2012 is actually pretty decent so far, and I'm finding it possible to breathe a little.

Over the last couple months I came to realize that there's very little left for me to prove to anyone other than myself. The remaining ambitions are mostly very intensely personal, and none of them involve Big Questions. Those have been answered, and happily so, and the answers to those Big Questions contribute to a sense of inner peace.

Happily, it's coincided with no small amount of simplification in my life. At work, I renegotiated some duties and worked out a new agreement on the student paper; not only is it a better deal for the students, and not only does it provide me with some sorely needed help, but it also takes away some major sources of stress. In my personal life, my five-year budget is ticking along as planned, and I'm thinking about long-term financial strategies that may enable an earlier retirement from teaching than originally planned. Why? For one, hubby's older than I am, and when he retires I want to share the time we have left doing the things we've always talked of doing. The other? Because the day I no longer feel I'm effective, the day I'm no longer getting it done, I want to make way for someone who has the fire and the ability. I don't want to overstay my usefulness. I've known people who have, and suffered as a student under some teachers who passed their "use by" date long before I got there. I don't want that to be me.

And the vacation from daily posting has been good, too. I'm remembering how to listen to life's pauses a lot more, and finding that while writing is good, just sitting and listening and thinking and all that kind of thing is sorely underrated. I have thoughts for topics, but no longer having to throw daily treatises on a website has been good for me. No doubt that's had something to do with why life has seemed a little happier of late.

With things thus far being humming along, and with fewer demands on my brain, I've even had time to spend at the workbench. A few hours of parts cleanup, a little bit of paint through the airbrush, and an evening with some glue got me this:

It's the make-rocket-go-now end of the 1:20 Tamiya McLaren M23, reissued about a year ago. It's an ancient kit by modern standards, but satisfyingly detailed and, in typical Tamiya manner, is generally a joy to build. With some luck, paint goes on the body this weekend, and I'll be able to install this monster. It took some time to overcome the workbench inertia, but once I got going, I remembered how addictive it is. When it's something that, in typical Tamiya manner, fits so well that it just begs you to keep building it once you've started, it's pure pleasure.

I've noted before the strangeness of being able to have good things, but not enjoying them because you can't let yourself comprehend that you do have those things for which you've worked so hard for so long. But lately, it feels that's changing, and I'm coming to realize just what I do have. Maybe I'm letting myself enjoy it. That would be nice.

Sabbatical

Four years ago this month I started this blog. It was an experiment, and an easy way for me to post some pictures of some old gadgetry from my collection and share some essays about things that fascinated me. Over time it evolved into something else - a chronicle of travels, adventures, what I was thinking, what made me happy or sad or angry. I've been fortunate to receive some kind comments, and I've also had the privilege of embarrassing myself a time or two in front of a worldwide audience.

What had started as an "every now and then" posting system quickly became a daily posting, and each day I'd find something to write about. If I couldn't, I took the cheap way out and just posted a link to a clip or a "back tomorrow." The material ebbed and flowed, depending on how I felt and what caught my fancy. I always maintained I'd keep posting as long as I was having fun with it, and that the moment it felt like work, I'd stop.

But if you've fallen into a habit, you know what it's like. I don't know what compelled me to keep posting day after day after day, even when I had nothing worth saying. It's not like I'd get a prize for an uninterrupted string of weekday postings. Along the way, I confused quantity and quality, and posting every day is worthless unless you have something worth saying or sharing. I haven't really accepted it, but the inevitable has happened. I'm out of steam, and have been for a while. I realize that's a hell of a thing coming from someone who's made a living out of writing, but there you are. I've stopped having as much fun with it.

Then there's the work factor. Once I was eager to haul my gadgetry out, photograph it, and write these enthusiastic posts. Or I'd go into my footage collection, take a bunch of screen captures and Photoshop them, and go wild about how it was done back in the day. Four years ago I was eager to share that enthusiasm and spend the time on all that work. I don't know if it's the grind of the day job or what it is, but my enthusiasm for that isn't what it once was. I feel badly about that, for those were among my favorite posts. I wish I could recapture that energy and enthusiasm, but it's missing these days. I'd rather come home and read a book or do something else. I've written an awful lot, and now I want to enjoy the pleasures of reading and listening to other voices and other stories. I want those voices and stories to inspire me anew, all the better to help me improve my craft.

Most of all, there's the personal factor. I'm a different person from the one who started this blog. Back then I was goofier, nerdier, perhaps overidentifying with my inner Liz Lemon. But I defy anybody not to change over any four years of his or her life. That's especially true the closer I get to 40, and it's been especially pronounced in the last year. I can't put my finger on exactly what happened; it's a confluence of factors producing a result long overdue. I can still be goofy, and I'll always be nerdy (and, yes, Liz Lemon will forever bring a nod of recognition from me). But there's now a seriousness and a purpose that wasn't there when I started this blog way back when. I've grown up an awful lot, and there's a peace in me that wasn't there four years ago. I've found the joy of quiet inner satisfaction. I don't feel the need to bleat my enthusiasms the way I once did, and the deeper we get into the weird world of Web 2.0, the more I believe that's a good thing. I no longer feel the need to prove myself to anyone else. I'm happy to be the only audience I really need to satisfy, and no longer feel the need to justify my enthusiasms to anyone other than myself. Sure, on occasion I enjoy sharing those interests, but on my own terms.

The me that's here in 2012 is content. Not all my problems are solved; there are a few things I'll be working on in the coming years, but we all do. Even with that, I have a deep peace and contentment I didn't have back then. I have a better grip on what matters. I've been through struggles, and I've watched people I love go through ordeals that make my own look like amateur night, and all that has given me valuable perspective. Sure, there are things I haven't achieved, but I see them as tomorrow's challenges. I have strategies for those things, and I know I can get it all done, because I've done harder stuff before. I know (to adapt a line from one of my favorite films) that it's over there, and it's only a matter of going.

I've learned what I really want to do and what's really worth worrying about. I now know as well that so many things I really want, and the things that really matter, have always been here - if only I'd take a moment to realize that. And even in the things I have yet to figure out, I'm grateful for those unanswered questions - that search, that quest, that longing makes life the adventure it needs to be. I always want to seek that new dawn just ahead. Even if I never find the answer, the search is an adventure and an education, and the effort often ends up being the true reward. Fulfillment can be wonderful, but the real value comes from the quest.

So, what does all this mean for the website? It's not going away. But the updates will become less frequent. This, for instance, is the last of the daily posts, at least for the foreseeable future. I'm giving myself some desperately-needed time off. How much time, I don't know, but I'll know when it's time to stop back by. When I do return, it'll be on a different basis; I'll post on whatever basis I feel is appropriate, when I have something of value, and when it's fun for me to share. The next chapter in the blog's life is to be about quality instead of frequency, and I believe you'll appreciate it more if I do that. There are several things I've wanted to write about that I just haven't had time to put together, and I hope having more time between posts will finally give me the time and brainpower I need to do those subjects "rite."

Finally, I need to thank all of you who have read, written, e-mailed, commented, or otherwise demonstrated that, one way or another, you cared. Even with all their ups and downs, I can't look back over the last four years without thinking about how much fun I've had, and how much fun it's been - and y'all have had more than a little to do with that.

To all of you, thank you. I'll be back.

Fly the plan

The new year is here, and I've looked forward to it. We had a nice long weekend, and New Year's Day brought the traditional lunch: collard greens, black-eyed peas, corn, pinto beans, stewed tomatoes and cornbread. Tradition has it you always make sure to eat a lot of collard greens on New Year's Day in hopes of bringing wealth in the new year, and I made sure to eat as much as I could. It was all good. And we spent time breaking in the new television we bought as a joint Christmas gift (since I'm the first to admit I'm difficult to buy for, I gave hubby my blessing to put what he'd spend on me into something for us both. And he chose wisely, selecting a television that should keep us happy for a long time).

Now the new year is officially going. I'm officially on my new budget plan. It may sound odd to say this, but given what it should let me do once I'm finished, I'm excited about it. The first elements of it clicked into place last week, and things are right where I want them. Everything I need to do has been budgeted, and everything is accounted for. Sure, there will be travel in the coming year, but it'll be on award tickets. I've accumulated a lot of mileage the last three years. Why sit on it? If I bought the ticket to Anchorage outright, it would be at least $1100. Or I could redeem mileage and get it for $10. No contest. I don't have the points for all my hotel stays, but I'm putting the cost of those stays into my budget, and they'll thus be paid for.

There'll be some things I'll do without in the coming months; on the other hand, there's a lot of stuff I have that I've never really given time to appreciating. There's a ton of books I've bought but haven't given myself time to enjoy, for example. The next year or two will be about savoring what I have. I plan, for instance, to designate a dozen books in my collection I want to have read by this time next year, and designate a dozen kits in the stash to have built by this time next year. And I plan to have fun with it all, choosing books I'll be excited to read and kits I've really wanted to build but put off for silly reasons. It's going to be great.

The hard part is done. I've figured out my destination and created the plan. Now I just have to fly the plan. (Best of all, the math is done. I never got along with math, so having that done is a hill climbed in itself.) I can do this, and I shall.

Summing up

I figured 2011 would be a year for regrouping and rebuilding, and it turned out to be exactly that. For that, I am grateful. Some things that happened in the second half of the year were overdue and, though not always pleasant, were exactly what I needed. Out of it I gained new perspective, a change of focus, and reordered priorities. On the professional end of things, I rearranged my responsibilities and undertook a deep career assessment that could possibly lead to something extremely wonderful, and (with the exception of one element that I hope gets fixed soon) I'm happier and more comfortable with my job than I've been in a long time. Financially, I shed an old, bothersome debt and put together a five-year budget that, if I'm able to make it stick, will mean new opportunities - including the fulfillment of a couple of deeply meaningful, long-held wishes. It'll take some work, but I love a challenge.

There's been adventure, too - I've been fortunate to see Alaska again, spend more time in Seattle, and have a hundred smaller adventures in among those. Any year when your travels span from Fairbanks to Fort Lauderdale is not a bad one. I've spent time in wonderful places and enjoyed the company of some fine people. I have been blessed, and I am grateful.

This trip around the sun has been a good one. I'm ready to do it again. I hope your 2012 is as good to you as 2011 was to me.

(Financial) house in order

I've spent time the last few months trying to get my life in the shape I want it. So far, so good. Some of it has been stuff I've physically done, and some of it has been a change in perspective. I didn't seek to do the latter; it just happened. I've come to realize what matters, and all that good stuff.

The other day, I decided it was time to sit down with my spreadsheet and play with some numbers. I developed a five-year budget. I like this budget. It's ambitious, but I really believe I can do this. If I hold to it, I'll have everything short of our mortgage paid off much, much sooner than I'd imagined I could. And that will be a very good thing, indeed. It will open doors to a lot of new possibilities.

Something else good? Some key relatives gave me cash for Christmas. It wasn't a huge amount, but it wasn't anything to sneeze at. I took it down to the bank the other day and opened a savings account. That money is just going to sit there for a while minding its own beeswax, and from time to time I'll transfer in a little more, as I'm able. I don't know what I'll do with the money down the road, but frankly I'm not interested in "what are you gonna do?" deal. I just like knowing the potential is there, and how that makes me sleep a little easier at night. 

This budget I've developed will require serious discipline. It's like losing weight (and that I know, for I've been through serious weight loss); you have to develop a plan, and you have to develop the discipline, and you must resist temptation. But the goal you set will be so totally worth it. I'm grateful I've done this; I just wish I'd done it sooner, but at least I did it now. In a few years, the future will belong to me,  not my creditors.

That's gonna be so awesome.

Travels with hubby

So I've mentioned we spent the week before Christmas down in Florida, doing some visiting. I hadn't been that far south in four years, and hadn't been to Florida itself in close to three. It was overdue, I think.

We left a couple Fridays ago, spending the night in Daytona Beach on the way down, then going the rest of the way the next morning. When we hit the Florida line, it didn't take long for me to remember how I-95 through Florida has mostly this sun-bleached, worn look. Many stretches of it look exactly the same as it did when I moved there almost a dozen years ago, but those stretches are becoming fewer and fewer. Development has taken root in once-forsaken places, and you're seeing civilization in places that were once deserted. It was interesting hearing hubby, whose family moved to Florida in the early '70s, compare how it is today to how it was in the '70s and '80s. It ain't the same, not at all.

By the time we were in Broward County, my memories of the place had come flooding back. There was a little nostalgia as I saw familiar places, but there were also definite reminders of why I left and didn't look back. So much I saw, I didn't miss. I didn't miss the traffic, the crowdedness, the development, you name it.

We got to where hubby's mother lives, and from then on, we were taken care of. We didn't want for anything the length of our stay, and that was nice. She made sure we had plenty to eat, and we spent a lot of time visiting. I'd brought a lot of work with me to get done, and a couple books to read, expecting the time to be sort of slow. As it happened, I had to pull myself away at a couple points so I could get my work done. It was indeed a pleasant visit. The weather was very nice the whole stay, only getting bothersome the night before we left, when it got humid. The rest of the time, it was lovely blue skies and mid-70s.

Not all our time was spent there. A couple days, we went out and explored. Hubby went looking for the places he grew up and showed me other places he remembered. We drove around the local airports, watching airplanes and seeing what had changed. We visited the hobby shops, finding one had changed drastically since our last visit and the other as remembered. And we made the all-important pilgrimage here. And it was good. Very good. If there's one material thing I mourn every time we have to leave South Florida, it's that we have to leave that place behind. That's how good it is.

Thursday of last week, we loaded up and started the journey home. We reached Daytona Beach early afternoon, had some lunch, and then spent a couple hours cruising around town seeing what's changed. In some ways, this stop on the way home was the most fun. Hubby was in the midst of the most time off work he'd had in a while, and he was in very good spirits, happily exploring a town he knew well and telling me tales from his days there. He was happy and I was happy, and I was reminded how much I love having him. It was one of the most blissful things I've enjoyed in a while. We retired to our hotel room and spent the evening watching television and finishing off the baked goods his mother sent home with us. (Tough job, but someone's gotta do it.)

Next morning we woke up and completed the journey home. I'd had a great time, much better than anticipated, but it sure felt good to get home. The mighty tiger and the mountain lion were happy to see us. Though my folks had come over to look in on them at about our trip's midpoint, both feline critters were starved for affection. Before we even got near the door, we could hear their meows...uh, I mean, "roars" even in the garage. We couldn't unload the truck all at once because we had to come inside and let them love on us for a little bit. They spent the rest of the evening being very clingy. It's nice to be wanted.

After the week's travels it felt great to spend a night at home, in all the familiar comforts you leave behind, to go to sleep in your own bed and all that. Next morning was Christmas Eve, and hubby spent the whole day baking. I spent most of the day making sure the young and very inquisitive mountain lion stayed out of his way. Everything got done, and it was good.

Christmas day came. After exchanging cards and gifts, we got ready to drive over to see my family, and got there about lunchtime. After so many days of sweets, I wanted to sob when I was finally able to eat something salty and savory, as some things were in the spread my mother laid on. We did the gift-giving thing (and my nieces really cleaned up, for my parents really love to spoil their grandchildren), then spent some time over at my brother's. Then it was back home.

One more day with hubby at home. Monday was quiet, very nicely so. He'd enjoyed his time off and shed a lot of stress. I was happy to see him so laid-back, and it was a little sad to have to let him go back to work. But it's part of life.

The next day came, and he went back to work. I woke up, had a normal breakfast, did my normal morning routine, and then went off to do the errands that had gone undone for too long. No more sweets, no more unusual routines, none of that again for another year. In some ways, I'm glad to let it go, and there was a little bit of satisfaction in getting back to a normal routine and getting some things done that needed to be done. But I do have to say the last two weeks brought more unexpected enjoyment than I've had in a while, and I'm thankful.

On days that start getting longer again, eventually

We're back from our trip, and done with Christmas for another year (and I hope to have more to say about both in coming days; the trip ended up being better than I anticipated, while Christmas Day itself, while not exactly like the one I wrote about yesterday, wasn't bad either). I've always thought it a little sad that there's such a buildup to Christmas, and then it's gone. The handful of days between Christmas and New Year's Day are always a time I enjoy, because you're just playing out the string before hanging up a new calendar and everything begins anew.

It's in that spirit I offer this essay about my favorite Christmas-themed television special, courtesy the folks at the AV Club. For me, the really moving part came with these words in the closing, which resonated with thoughts I've had about life's melancholies and minor keys, and the glimmers of light in life's darknesses:

A story doesn’t have to have actually happened to be true. Every word of the Christmas story doesn’t need to be literally accurate for its underlying sentiments—peace and hope and joy—to still speak to us, just as no one would ever argue A Charlie Brown Christmas is non-fiction, but it touches something deep and true in many of us. The great old Christmas carols—“God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” or “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” or “What Child Is This?”—are all in minor keys, because they express the world’s longing for something better. Yet life will never be perfect. Even when that something better comes along, the minor key never really goes away, just as the melancholy never quite seeps out of A Charlie Brown Christmas, even during the sing-along at the end. But where those songs and the Bible verses that inspired them look to the heavens for the miracle that will lead us forward, A Charlie Brown Christmas invites us to look to each other, to gather together during the darkest nights of the year and create our own kinds of light. The days will start getting longer again eventually. We just have to wait.

A new year and new projects

Another year's close to being in the books, and I've accomplished a lot. Maybe not as much as I would have liked, but I set my sights high anyway; still, I look at what I've done this year, and though I'm aware of where I fell short I'm still happy I got as much done as I did.

I used to look at each new year with a little bit of dread, because it felt like starting over again. It's completely psychological, because it's not like you wake up on the first of January and everything's suddenly a different color. For whatever reason, that's not bothering me this time around, and instead I'm looking at the new year as a chance for new opportunities, and new projects I've wanted to do for a long time.

There are some big things I want to do - this coming year, for instance, is when I hope to finally close the deal on flight training, and I've done just about everything I can to this point to make sure it happens. After the first of the year, that's when I can finally make it real. So that's the big thing. But there are other, smaller projects to which I'm looking forward. There's certain kits up in the stash that I've sort of promised myself as new projects. This new year, finally, it'll happen, I tell myself.

As for work? Well, coming into the new year with everything all planned out will take out a lot of stress. But there are new ideas I want to try, and I hope by the Fall term things will be exactly where I want them. I'm hoping, for instance, to finally acquire a gizmo or two that I've been wanting, and the ability to use that kind of technology in the classroom will simplify things an awful lot. Between that, and the quiet confidence I have in my ability to do my work, things should be better than ever.

Once upon a time a new year would fill me with dread. For whatever reason, 2012 doesn't, and I'm looking forward to this new sheet of paper. For a new sheet of paper allows you to draw whatever you want on it.

Mountain lions and Christmas trees

Each year since we moved here, we've had a Christmas tree. It's been the same little three-foot tree hubby bought at a discount store one Saturday while I was away at some function. It's a cute little tree, and every year it's grown a few more ornaments. (It's now to the point that we're considering a replacement tree, just because we're out of room for ornaments.)

Every year we've put that tree up, but this year we're not going to. Travel's part of the culprit, but the main reason is the new cat. He's young and muscular, and most of all full of mischief. There's not a ledge or a shelf or anything he's not determined to explore. We had been putting the little tree atop a couple of bookcases, well out of reach of the Mighty Tiger. Since the Tiger is...shall we say, "full-figured," there's no way he can leap up there, and the older he's grown the less he's felt the need to explore like that anyway.

But the new cat, who fancies himself a mountain lion, is young and wants to explore. It took us all of about three seconds to figure out that the moment we put that tree up, it'd be a fiasco. Be it the cat trying to chew on the branches, or whacking ornaments around, or trying to eat the lights or chew through the power cord (and that's a problem we're having with the little one, for he likes gnawing on cords), the hassle would just be too immense.

It's not that we don't have Christmas spirit this year; come around on the 23rd and watch hubby at work in the kitchen and you'll find otherwise. This year, the lack of apparent visible Christmas spirit has nothing to do with grinchiness and everything to do with keeping a young and very curious cat from using up his nine lives.

Cleaning house

A couple weeks ago I finished things up, calculated my final grades, and then started taking my office apart. I found it addictive. There were a lot of papers I no longer needed, a bunch of stuff I was keeping for no apparent reason, and some other things that just needed to be gone. By the time it was over, I'd filled four paper cartons with old documents to be shredded, another with stuff for recycling, and another document box with stuff that I didn't throw away, but no longer needed in the office. (That box came home with me.)

It didn't stop there. The stuff that remained in my filing cabinets all got rearranged, organized and labeled. For perhaps the first time since I took this job, my files are in order. My desk has been cleaned out, with only the stuff I need to keep remaining there. There's still some tweaking I'll need to do, but the difference is huge, and the psychological lift is immense.

The other day I did the same for my data. I keep all my documents on an 8GB USB drive, and the poor thing was groaning under the weight of all the documents and other files I kept on it. I had files on there that were a decade or more old, and much of it was stuff I never used. So I backed the thing up to my external hard drive, then sorted through its contents, keeping only the documents I really needed and deleting everything else. It now has seven free gigabytes, more than I'll ever really need.

There's something that feels very good about coming into a new year and carrying a little less baggage than you were before. The office, and the things I keep to support my work, are now lean and purposeful. I like that feeling.