The Northward Contrail

Reunion

Yesterday after work I drove over to the next town to scout out my other flight instruction prospect.  I had plenty of time before my appointment, so I drove to the local college to visit.  This college happens to be where I did my undergraduate work, and a few of the professors who meant so much to me are still there.  I thought I'd drop in and see if any of them were in, or at the very least leave my business card on their doors. 

In two cases, the professors weren't in.  I thought it was going to be a three-fer, but something told me to check down a hallway on a lower level.  Sure enough, I saw the name for which I was looking on a doorplate, and heard a familiar voice around a corner.  I waited until a couple of students had been served, then stepped in the doorway and said hello.  The look on my former professor's face was priceless -- surprise, happiness, the whole thing.  She fairly leapt from her chair, ran up and gave me a huge hug, the kind of hug you give someone you haven't seen in a decade -- which, as it happens, has been about as long as it's been since we last saw each other.  And we visited for about 10 or 15 minutes.  It was absolutely wonderful.  I only had this professor for one course, but something connected, and we stayed in touch over the years; in many ways, she was an inspiration for me to do what I do for a living.  So it was wonderful, and made the whole trip worthwhile.

Oh, and the visit to the flight instructors?  That went very well, and I was impressed, and I now face a difficult choice.  But there will be much thought between now and then, and there will be time to talk about all that later.  For now, the memory of yesterday's reunion is enough to have made it a truly wonderful day.

A more even strain

Over the last year or two I'd developed a habit of coming in the office way, way early.  I had my ways of rationalizing it; it let me beat the traffic, it let me get my head together, it let me get caught up and ready for the day, etc. It was a good couple hours before my report time, and while the extra time did come in handy, it also meant I did a lot of nothing but goofing off and killing time in a different location, and it meant one more Coke Zero I'd expend before the day began.

This semester, I'm trying something different, and that's delaying my departure from the house for a little while.  I'm experimenting with leaving home at a more civil hour, going back to a schedule more like the one I used to keep.  If I'm going to do little else but goof off and kill time, I can do that in greater comfort (and, frankly, in a much quieter location) at home, and my new departure time still gives me a good 45 minutes or an hour to solve problems and get ready before the day's work begins. Plus, if I leave for work at an off-peak part of the hour, I still avoid the worst of the traffic shenanigans.

I think this may be one reason why, one week in, something for me this school year feels like it's changed for the better and I'm feeling a little bit less stress.

Groundwork

So over the weekend I drove over to the airport one town over and had a very nice visit with the proprietor of the flight school there.  It was a very good visit.  I asked some deep questions, and liked what I saw and heard.  Tomorrow I meet with the folks at another flight school in another nearby town, and I'll ask them the same questions and give them the same once-over.  Then I'll have to take all the information, run the numbers, do the whole "plus/minus/interesting" exercise I learned in grade school, and the whole deal. 

The good news is that in either case, it's within my price range (heck, it's better than what I anticipated), I'll be reunited with types of equipment I know and like, and it'll be at smaller airports where the stress level should be a little lower.  (Don't get me wrong; while the last time around it could be quite a rush being next in line for takeoff after a 767, and while dealing with the tower and ground control was a great way to begin learning about controlled airport procedures early on, it nonetheless added another layer of intensity to an already intense enterprise.)

The temptation would be strong to just dive right in and get back to work, and honesty compels me to admit there's nothing more I would love than that.  But there's a reason I'm starting the sussing-out so early.  It's because, when the time comes, I want to be ready, and I want to do this the right way.  And, in this regard, the main factors here are time and money. 

Of the two, the money's the bigger consideration.  It was a point of pride my first time around that I paid cash for my lessons (well, that and my instructor didn't take credit cards, but I didn't dip into a line of credit either).  Both of the schools I'm looking at do accept plastic, but I don't want to finance the whole thing.  I'm looking at paying cash for what I can, then financing the rest.  And that means starting to save now.  Given that my income gets consumed by many other things (utilities, mortgage, student loan payment, credit card bill, etc.), this will mean cutting back on some of the "beer and skittles" items and selling off a few things I no longer need.  But that's the beauty thing about planning this far ahead: there's time to make it line up.  Of course, there's always the chance life could throw one of its curveballs, in which case all bets are off, but I'm hoping fate will smile on me, and us.

But even if I had the money now, I'm not sure about the wisdom of starting, especially right when work has ramped up again and other people are starting to schedule my life for me again.  I can completely see me having scheduled a week's series of lessons for after work, only to have to tell the instructor, "Uh...I have to be in a meeting this afternoon that I just found out about, and...uh, I have to cancel."  I can completely see this becoming a regular occurrence, and I can completely see my proficiency going kaput as a result. 

So perhaps it's best for me to wait until late next Spring.  By then I'll start to have more control over my life, and I should have the financial ducks all aligned.  Plus that gives me three-quarters of a year to brush up on my learning and get myself ready for the written, collect the relatively few supplies I need to buy (including a good headset that I'll enjoy wearing), lose the 15 work-stress-induced pounds I'd like to shed by then, and all that other stuff.  When I do this -- and this time, I'll do it until I get it completed -- I want to do it my way, and the right way.

Be that as it may...man, it's impossible for me to tell you how good it felt to be back on an airport ramp again, or to be that close to a Cessna 172 again.  And it's impossible for me to tell you how much I look forward to being back at the controls.  During the long months ahead, I hope I'm able to keep my eyes on that reward.

Busy again

A lot on my mind this week; it's been intense, and I've had not only the start of classes on my mind but also various occurrences in the lives of some people I know personally and/or professionally.  Suffice to say that August has not been the kindest month for at least three folks for whom I care (two at the office, one elsewhere), and I hope September, and the months after, will bring relief and peace for them. 

And with that, it wouldn't seem right to go on -- not only out of respect for those folks, but also because work awaits.  See you Monday.

No limits

Back when I subscribed to Flying magazine, one of my favorite parts was Lane Wallace's monthly column.  In a magazine full of male columnists and authors, she was something refreshing and relatable.  She would write of her great adventures in aviation, often being candid about the times she slipped up.  But above all else, I'd read her stuff and think two things: she sure does love aviation, and I wish she lived nearby so I could go hang out with her and be inspired by her.  There was always joy in her columns, and it was infectious.  She was being the pilot/journalist/adventurer/etc. I would be if (and when) the stars align.

Her departure from Flying in the last year or so was a big reason I let my subscription lapse.  Happily, she's still having great adventures and enjoying life, and she has her own blog.  I'll send you there today.  Go enjoy. 

Neither shaken nor stirred

We had an earthquake yesterday on this side of the continent.  I didn't feel it.  I was sitting at home working on a document at the time, and didn't feel a thing.  Though some folks at work said they felt something, and of course some friends in Virginia and thereabouts reported some interesting phenomena. 

If you've never been in an earthquake, there's few experiences that can match the first time one happens and you perceive it.  Little tiny ones happen quite often and we never know about them, let alone perceive them.  But the first time you feel the house go "whump," it's memorable, and it's why I'm hesitant to poke fun at those who sort of panicked a little yesterday.  They didn't know what it was like, and I understand.  I know people who remember living through this, and of course the place where I spend as much time as I can is no stranger to seismic activity, too -- two of the last three times I've visited, earthquakes have been part of the experience.  (Here's the most recent one I encountered.  It shook the bed and I sort of woke up, realized what it was...and when it was over and nothing had fallen on me, I shrugged and went back to sleep.)

But, life goes on.  And no matter where you live, Nature's always in charge.  No matter how idyllic or how seemingly peaceful the surroundings, there's always a way Nature can make your life interesting.  As a lot of folks were reminded yesterday.

It begins again

The summer is officially over for me this morning, although for all intents and purposes it ended yesterday because of the raft of tasks I had waiting.  Really, it ended last week when we had all the meetings and such, and you could even make an argument that the summer never really was here.  There were long stretches without work-related duties, but there were enough meetings and obligations over the summer that I was never really allowed to forget about my job.  Our official paperwork may state we're on nine-month contracts, but as a practical matter it's a 12-month job. 

So life is reminding me that it's not all beer and skittles.  Life is about waking up early, driving to work in the dark, sitting in an office and then having to go perform, finding time for life in the midst of a hundred crises that pop up in the middle of any given day.  And as much as I may let myself believe I'll have an easier schedule this year, I know the truth will be otherwise, and that this semester will be as demanding and as full of red tape and annoyances as any other semester.  It's just that I'll have slightly more time to savor them while I'm in the office. 

The funny thing is, I see things on the horizon that look promising.  We put together a plan for our program that's drawn much acclaim from the higher-ups, and we know once that plan's in effect things will get really great.  But the sea always looks so huge when you're one mile out from shore and you know your goal's on the other side of that seemingly infinite blue.  And I know that, in my case, reality for the next nine months will be two more semesters of things not being completed and certain things being beyond my control, of us being able to use only half our facility, of being at the mercy of others, and so on.  If we're able to make our plan come to pass, these problems will be solved and our jobs will be a lot easier.  I believe we can do it.  But, as Mr. Petty said, the waiting is the hardest part.

But that's always the worst part of any goal.  You know the outcome you want; either it's the one with the greatest gain or, at a minimum, the least loss.  When it's something that's strictly personal, it's no big deal; you have reasonably complete control over it.  But when others are involved...well, they're wildcards, and their goals may differ.  And you do the best you can with what you have. That's all you can do, really.

My hope for the next nine months is that we're not only able to do the best we can, but that we're able to get what we need and make the great things we've planned become reality.  And I hope that by the time I write an entry a year from today, I'll have seen many of those great things come to pass, and we'll be about to embark on a great, wonderful new chapter in our program's story. 

In the meantime, we do the best we can with what we have.

On enough being enough

There's been a very good reason for the lack of substantial postings the last few days.  Some of it is because of the new school year, and that's unavoidable.  But there's more to it.

The personal journey that decided to unfold itself during the ride home from Fairbanks has been very, very interesting.  And, as I'm finding, much-needed.  In the process of living my daily life and doing the career thing, I've focused very much on just surviving from day to day.  I haven't thought long-term, and my existence has just been sort of situational.

Live long enough like that, and some things will build up and some ambitions will get put on hold.  It's like running an engine for a really long time and not regularly changing the oil or running injector cleaner through it.  You're gonna build up a lot of gunk.  And the long ride home from Fairbanks, as I sat and watched the breathtaking scenery roll past, made me realize just how much gunk I've accumulated, and made me resolve to do something about said gunk. 

It so happened that one way to get rid of said gunk was to find someone to talk to about it.  It so happened that not long after my return from Alaska, I made the acquaintance of someone who, among her other professional interests, is a specialist in sports psychology.  This turned out to be a good thing, if you really think about it: someone who knows about the implications of ambition, intense training, competitiveness, and the entire range of what all that does to you inside, good and bad.  So she's been good for me.

The time I've spent with her has forced me to think about things I haven't in a long, long time.  And I found that the mere act of getting them out was in itself a release and an awfully good dose of medicine.  Just getting them out did so very much for me, it wasn't funny.

And one thing I got out, in all this: I'm sick and tired of just having a student license.  I do not like that my logbook is locked in our safe, still stuck at just short of 14 hours.  I was tired of telling myself "you're not bright enough," because after walking across the coals I've realized that, yes, I am bright enough and I need to quit telling myself otherwise. 

Now I am starting to realize that with that part done, it's now a matter of logistics.  It's about finding the money and the time.  The money was sort of an issue because if you knew what I made for the profession I'm in, you'd swear I was a liar.  And the time was an issue because I have to keep goofy hours, and the airport where I'd previously trained was sort of a hike from home. 

But over the weekend, some things happened.

I don't know how I got it in my head, but the flying thing got back on my mind while I was driving somewhere Saturday morning.  When I came back home, I stumbled across a Firefox bookmark for a flight school I knew about and that looked especially appealing given certain interests of mine.  I sent an e-mail requesting more information about a training program.  Then, remembering that multiple, interlocking fields of fire are always a wise decision, I remembered that my annual membership dues help support this database.  Sure enough, I found at least two flight schools within comfortable driving distance of home and work.  One even offers a program that would not only let me pay up front (which, given my salary and finances, would be very important), and it would not only be within the range of what I could afford, but it would allow me to work full-time on it during my summer break next year.  Training by immersion is how I learn best, and it looks like this would be just the ticket.  I'm trying to arrange an on-site visit so I can suss them out, and have set an appointment for this coming weekend with the other local flight school.  So, be the Good Lord willin', I should be back in the cockpit as scheduled next summer. 

Now, for the finances?  Well, with this kind of motivation behind me, I ran a budget over the weekend and found that, yes, if I work my budget just right, there will be some cash to finance part of it.  I'll have to cut some things and do without others, but I can still meet my obligations.  The rest?  Well, I can find a way to finance it somehow, but I won't have to finance all of it.  That's part of the logic of starting this planning now, so I will have time to explore my options.  But, for now, the next assignment I've given myself is to go to the bank next pay day and open a new savings account just for flight training.  Every pay period I'll transfer X amount of money to this account. It won't finance the whole thing, but it'll make a serious contribution to the cause.

And, by hook or crook, it's going to work.  No more coming up short, because I'm going to make it happen this time.

The last several weeks have been an odyssey -- not always fun, but very much needed, like giving my mind a good tune-up it's needed for a long, long time.  And for everything that's happened that's gotten the gunk out of the little engine inside my head, it's sure been worth it.

Whoops

Busy again, and the blog got away from me.  So, ladies and gentlemen, here's Willie Nelson.

A day off

Not much to say today; trying to enjoy the quiet before it all goes away next week.  See you tomorrow, maybe?