BER Pays Off

So I'm sitting here, in the VIP club of Lima International Airport, thinking about this arduous, challenging, and yet totally amazing trip, realizing that none of this would have been possible if pieces hadn't fallen in exactly the right (and seemingly wrong) places. It all boils down to taking a risk. Perhaps the spark that started it all was deciding to apply for my internship in Paris. Like dominoes, the pieces have fallen into place ever since then. I took the chance. It sucked, it was hard, and it was amazing all at once. The same thing has happpened ever since. Changing the course of my life by taking the BER job sucked at times, it was very hard, and it's amazing where it has taken me.

I feel like I'm opening a new chapter of my life coming home this time. School orientation starts on Monday. Ready or not, here I come. I did not expect to be a pharmacist. I did not expect that I would want to travel the world. I did not expect that I would be in love. But what one does not expect makes everything worthwhile. I did not expect that this would be the hardest three weeks I've had in a long time, yet I stood alone atop a mountain at a wonder of the world. I did not expect to have broken conversations in half english, half spanish with so many people, yet we got our points across. I did not expect to have so much to return home to, and yet have so much I was leaving behind.

Peru has broken me and built me up. My adventures were not expected, but were probably what was needed most. Life seems to do that to you.

So Here's the Rub...

Traveling is exhausting. Adventure and cultural traveling is even more exhausting than your usual beach or camping vacation. Traveling in a language you don't even have a basic grasp of is headache-inducing. Traveling at altitude is exhausting. Traveling while sick is inherantly exhausting, and completely emotionally draining. Throwing all of yourself into a magical day at a place you never imagined you'd visit is thrilling, if not entirely exhausting.

I got up this morning, bright and early to go to the Isla Traquille. I asked for directions to the port from the hostel owner, and while he had been so helpful the night before, he lit into me about how crazy I was for trying to go without a tour, expecially since my spanish is SO horrible. Even after yesterday spent entirely on a bus driving from Cusco to Puno resting up from the dramatic efforts I made at Machu Picchu, I clearly had not recovered from my sickness and exhaustion. So someone calling me crazy, telling me how stupid I was, how much of an awful American who speaks no spanish I was... hitting at all of the things I feel like could be very, very true... I finally lost it. I ended up sleeping most of the day to stop from sobbing, reading a bit, and finally dragged my butt out of bed and made my way to a VERY gringo restaurant where I had an amazing eggplant parmasana style sandwich and chocolate caliente.

Luckily, it didn't start raining until I got back. It's hailing and dumping rain right now, thunder and lightning echoing in the distance. It¡s the first rain I've seen since I got to Peru, and damn it feels like home. The smell of it hitting the warm pavement, the sound of it on the plastic roof over the courtyard, the sparkling underneath the streetlamps. It feels like a little piece of Seattle.

So tomorrow I won't ask for directions. I know how to get to the port. I know how to ask for a ticket to the Isla Uros. I know how to manage my time, how to get food, how to get to the bus station, how to get through the last 4 days I have in Peru. I know that I can do this, as I have been doing it, even completely debilitated by 4 kinds of sickness. The well had simply run dry today, but maybe through a little food, a little chocolate, a little more sleep, and a little rain reminding me of home, there will be something there for me to pull from tomorrow.

Up and Moving

Ever since I got to Cusco, I've been fairly incapacitated. Instead of romping around the party town, I've been huddled in my bed, sleeping off this evil cold. However, last night in a moment of panic and utter frustration with my body's blatent betrayal, and after a helpful calm-down talk with Tom back home (skype is the best thing to come out of the internet revolution, I swear), I finally came to my senses and gave up. There would be no chance that I was going to be able to make any kind of trek to Machu Picchu. Hell, I could hardly walk around Cusco. Machu Picchu was going to be more than enough. So I walked back into my room, and realized that I had to talk to someone. I needed some kind of help. I hated admitting that, even to myself.

My roommate was in the room, and somehow we started talking. Soon enough, we were going out to dinner (juice and soup, exactly what I needed!), and it turned out that she had gone to Machu Picchu the route that I was going to have to resort to--taking the train and staying in the town of Aguas Calientes. Simply talking to her, having her show me the websites (which ultimately wouldn't work, but still...), and hearing her tips for getting the right tickets and buying the bus ticket the night before, and where to catch the bus to get to Ollanta, FINALLY I could figure out the plan that I hadn't expected to have to fall back on. So in the morning, I went down to the computers to reserve my tickets, and couldn't pay for ANYTHING. So I had a mini-jog around town in my messy hair, glasses, flip-flops, half-pajamas and general frustration (these tickets are HIGH demand, and thus very time sensative), to find the train office, then the right bank (third one was a charm, ugh, who has 3 different banks on one corner?!) to pay for my Machu Picchu reservation. Back at the hostel, at least one part of the plan in place, I crashed again for a couple of hours.

When I went down to see about bus tickets and figure out a time frame for the rest of my journey (I definitely want to be back in Lima in time to get the hell out of here), I once again struggled with online purchases, even on the english page! But I figured out a good general schedule to get myself to Puno, and back through Arequipa on my way to Lima by bus. I might even splurge on the fancy lower level for the overnight long bus from Arequipa to Lima! While at the computers, I ran into Sandra again, and we ended up going to lunch together, then to a crazy market and general wanderings around Cusco. So at least I've done a little shopping, a little wandering, and a little sight-seeing. Tomorrow I'll probably do a little walking tour of Cusco in the morning (it's in the LP), then take the bus to Ollantaytambo, the jumping off place for my train the day after. This way, I'll finally get out of this hostel (not that it's not lovely) and get to explore a sleepy town a little. Then it's onwards to MP.

It feels really good to have a plan again. It helps me to focus when my body is rebelling like this. When I know I have to get to a place by a certain time, I don't end up hunkered down in my hostel reading for hours on end. I'm going to have seen everything that I really wanted to see (although, not the treks and not any of the fun stuff up north, but it's only 3 weeks afterall), and I think this thing can turn around. I definitely feel better, and with my hand-woven scarf around my neck, I feel a little more cozy. My friend has moved on to her further adventures, but I have my adventures, and endless people to meet along the way. I miss everyone back home though, and definitely think that next time, I'm going to drag someone along with me.

Determination

If there's one thing I have, it's a stubborn streak. Deciding things can be tricky for me, but once I've made up my mind, there's not much going back. So, sometimes to my own detriment, I make up my mind to do something and just wait to see what will happen. Like right now, I feel worn out from a cold, but I'm determined to figure out how to get to Machu Pichu, so I walked to the tour office of a company a friend I met here is using to hike the Salkantay route. Unfortunately they had moved far enough that I didn't want to walk while still trying to recover energy, so I went back to the hostel where there are computers, pulled out my spanish dictionary and managed to communicate two VERY broken sentances over the company's online chat program to see if there was an opening. I think they are sending me information...

I am determined that I am going to trek this. No matter what my body may be thinking, I want to do what I intended to do when I left--which is hike. Luckily Cuzco is a pretty nice town, and hanging out here for a bit longer while I figure this out. If this falls through, there are a lot of other tour companies including one in my hostel. So here we go... I'm determined and my cold is just going to have to respond to my will. Or I may just be being a fool... who's GOING to Machu Pichu, come hell or high altitude.

Trying to Stay Positive...

Snow driving is not so hard and it's beautiful

...except when the snow blows across the road and you can't see the road and your clenching the steering wheel so tightly your hands ache.

I'm flying home on a direct flight tomorrow

...from O'Hare with hundreds of canceled flights in the last two days and a huge cancellation backlog on the eastern seaboard.

I have a week off

...but two more days on the road, and I'm beyond exhausted.

I stayed in a hotel with this in the front lobby:

Yup. Nothing negative about that. :)

Ode to Working the Health Care

As I've done a solid run through my coverage the other day, and will continue to do so through the end of May, I have a few thoughts.

First off, how does anyone ever find a doctor they like? I've been bouncing around within the Group Health system because I find that really... unless I'm due for someone to poke and prod me, the email and phone networks they have set up work really well for me, especially being on the road. I like that I can fire off email questions, but I've never liked the doctors in my visits that much. The nurses are definitely more interesting to talk to and a lot warmer in personality.

Secondly, I'm not too keen on the fact that I went in to mainly talk about a nagging on/off problem with my anxiety, and the doctor suggested anti-depressants right away. SSRI's are not a laughing matter, and I'm not depressed. After the little 10 point "questionnaire" she said she might say I have "very mild depression," but really, I just get mini panic attacks when I can't sleep for a week straight and have to deal with craziness from my presenter at the same time... which is definitely not the same thing. I've done everything I can to deal with them, but diet and exercise can go right out the window on a BER week. I've had these in the past, and Xanex dealt with them really well... so well that I never even finished the bottle before they expired. So, instead of giving me something that would solve the problem I have (okay, so Xanex pills are potentially habit-forming, but I explained that I knew that and was very careful with them), she wanted to put me on a regimen of drugs for the next 6-10 months! Let's try something that costs less than $10, and monitor that progress before we throw the baby out with the bathwater!!

Lastly, honestly, I knew what I wanted when I went in. There is so much information out there, that I can make an informed decision without going in to the doctor, yet I have to waste most of the half-hour trying to talk her out of putting me on SSRI's and then being referred to someone else for another appointment for the other half of my questions.

At least the dentist and the eye doctor were more straight forward appointments.

I really would like to go to a doctor that was more holistic... but at the same time I hardly need a doctor. The annual tests and bloodwork are fine, but they take all of 15 minutes. And maybe I would like it for someone else to inform me of what tests I should have done at what times, but since I am mostly well, what do I need it for if all they are going to do is try to put me on meds that I probably do not need? I know what diet and exercise means, and I guess I'd love to have someone who is more of a psychologist and nutritionist than a pharmacist, but then again, I have the luxury of not being sick.

What exactly is preventative medicine other than eating a good diet and exercising?

It's a Love/---- Relationship

I've been too down on my job lately. Part of it is the ever-changing state of the economy and how that has impacted life working for BER. The thing is, this job is only horrible if you can't find the shining moments you get every day.I am out on the road with a presenter who most PM's are not fond of, yet by sheer force of will I had a great time with last year. She's a ton of fun, but since she's a little more high strung and from Jersey, she can come off abrupt and rude. Plus, she's on the more high-maintenance side of the presenter spectrum, so you have to learn to expect the little requests without feeling miffed. Luckily this week I have a lot more energy than last week, and we're in great places. Last night we were in Charlottesville, one of my FAVE small towns I've been to, and after the seminar we dashed up for the last tour of Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's house. EEEE! I was so happy to get to see it since I've been forced to drive past the signs about 4 times last year. Then, as it was about 5pm, we went back to main street in Charlottesville for dinner at a tasty french bistro. This was after supping at Hamilton's the night before, the restaurant we had found last year on our trip to Charlottesville together. Two dinners in my favorite town?! YES please!!These are times when I love my job.

Circadian Rhythms

Life moves in cycles. A high energy week gives birth to lots of blog posts, creating new hobbies like "perfectionist packing," and coming up with exciting activities along the road. Those weeks usually give way to great weekends, then onwards to horrifically exhausted weeks. This is one of those weeks.

NOLA was a blast (and maybe I'll manage some real content on it in a day or so), but this week I'm crashing at 9:30pm and crawling out of bed at 6:45am. We have two crappy hotels this week too, which makes life just all the more depressing after the FABULOUS Westin in NOLA (yay hotwire!). My presenter has made it known that she likes finding fun things along the way, but there's just no way I want to "find" anything for her. Two reasons: 1. Pure exhaustion on my part and 2. She's about as interesting as a doorknob and has made some vaguely racist/classist comments. Basically, coming off of last week were I had a real connection with my presenter and had an amazing time, I'm just not interested in putting in any more time and effort with this lady than I have to. So it's time to get dinner alone, curl up with a good book, and recoup some of my introvert energies.

P.S. Yay for Tom Robbins and the ubiquity of book stores on the road. I'm only 10 pages into "Jitterbug Perfume" and I'm already amused.

Hitting the BER Wall

Five more months...

It's a long time when you think about it. The problem that one runs into with working a crazy schedule like mine is complete and utter burn out. Sleep deprivation kicks in, time zone changes start wearing on you, and the sight of one more pathetic hotel breakfast buffet turns your stomach. I was ready to get back on the road again after the holidays, but for whatever reason, I didn't ever manage to adjust to the central time zone. Six hours of sleep a night was a good day, and soon enough I was living on caffeine. I can manage this lifestyle for a week, but that's the limit. I need to find a way to make it through to the end while being able to enjoy myself still.

The worst part of all of it though is the pressure of weekends. When I'm home, I want to do everything. I want to go to yoga, I need to get my laundry done, I want to see friends, I want to get my hair cut by my favorite stylist, I need to repack, I want to repack oh so perfectly, I want to go out and have a beer for a friend's birthday. But instead I tend to mess it up--the haircut appointment, arriving too late for a class, falling asleep suddenly (for once) at the most inopportune moment after flopping down on my bed for 5 minutes.

Having two lives is ridiculous, yet that's what I've got. I have on-the-road me, who simply lives out of a suitcase and deals with the same routine day to day, splashing in some fun little excitements as much as I can along the way. Then there is at-home me, who really just wants to relax, but has all of the minutia of a real life to deal with: opening mail, doing laundry, running errands, renewing car tabs, seeing people I don't get to see regularly any more... etc. etc.

It's almost more exhausting being home than being on the road. This wouldn't be the case if I didn't have to fly trans-continental every single time I came home. But even when I fly to Chicago or Texas, I end up leaving before 11:30am on Sunday. Luckily, this next weekend I'm in New Orleans, and while that doesn't sound like a restful weekend to some... it's going to be full of long, sleeping-in-all-day mornings since we have three whole days to play and a swanky hotel to live it up in. AND I'm not going to lose three hours and gain them back again. I might swap one hour back and forth, but that's nothing. This is why stayovers are crucial to my life, and yet a hindrance to it. The following weekend, I get to pray that my car passes an emission test so that the tabs can be renewed, since this is the only time I can get to it.

It's an interesting life, and one that you have to be prepared to plan ahead for. Luckily, I'm looking forward to finishing up in May and starting out anew on a path to figure out what will come my way.

It's a Love/Hate Relationship

I love my job when everything just flows: my packing is just right, I have a direct flight and get to talk to a fun person, and the routine becomes a comfortable and reliable rhythm in my life.

I hate my job when every other aspect of my real life gets submerged: haircut appointments become hard to manage, doctors appointments are impossible to get to before February, and the simplest basic scheduling issues on a weekend become semi-catastrophic because I'm only in town 36hours.

...but I'm going to great places soon enough: Allentown, DC, NOLA... And I'll be back to a normal life by July. Gotta enjoy the crazy while it's here.

Resolved

New Years Eve this year was great: I got to hang out with a couple of friends I haven't seen in a while and we had some low-key fun. Pies&Pints for dinner, tasty drinks, watching the fireworks on Jeff's gigantic big screen TV, Wii, Star Trek, party poppers, my sparkly headband and fleecy pants, and cake. That is my idea of a good time. Then starting the year off right: Herkimer, steel-cut oatmeal, and magically figuring out how to transfer my music to my new netbook.

Yes, that's right, my new netbook. I've been tinkering with the idea for a while now, and at a post christmas sale I went for it. The amount of ease it will add to my traveling should completely justify it. The lil'cutie is shiny, and tiny, and lighter than air! I picked it up the first time and almost threw it across the room because it weighed so little. (A part of me wanted to throw it across the room, because it is a PC, but I restrained my Mac sensibilities just this once.) It's been strange operating with two computers all the time, but it's fun feeling super techy with a stack of technology in front of me (mac, netbook, and iphone... it's like little computer Russian dolls).

Because I am resolved, on many levels, to make this year a good year. I started it off with my Christmas wish list, and the wonderful Mom who gave me what I wanted: The Joby Gorillapod Camera Tripod (better fashion photos await!), and yoga socks (which my sister insisted were "too weird" for her to purchase for me). These little, lightweight goodies along with my netbook should make the next 4-5 months more bearable.

Anyways, other than resolving to make my life easier with fancy new travel gizmos, I have three short, sweet, and purposeful resolutions that don't add to my baggage.

1. Take vitamins, because being sick 3 times in the course of 3 months suggests a vitamin C deficiency.

2. Floss. More than 2x a year.

3. Go on a soda hiatus, because 3 diet cokes in one day is too many.

Absurdly, I already blew it with these. I thought I had decided on three, but I couldn't remember one. So I assumed I had decided on two when I wrote them down on NYE. Then today, the crashing realization hit me... VITAMINS!! Probably the most important one, being as how it is the most likely to make me stop being sick constantly and thereby improve my quality of life drastically, yet it slipped my mind. Way to go me.

I want to make this the Year without Fear--the fear of getting sick, the fear of the dentist, the fear of my back going out from all my heavy luggage... and a few other more metaphysical things. We'll get around to that later. Right now, it's all about starting it off on the right foot.

A Christmas Carol

Ho Ho Ho...

Okay, screw it. I'll tell it to you straight: I hate have a fairly negative history with Christmas.

From being the adorable 2-year-old given a tiny-sized softball mitt and squishy ball, only to burst into tears and exclaim, "I don't even know what it is!" to the young adult dressing up as a goth for a practical joke/spiteful statement for my dad's side of the family (in particular my grandmother), I've often been a bit of a brat on this particular day. Every year I am a huge grinch... but I realize that being a spoilsport isn't much fun. So I've been working on my attitude and those reflex reactions that come out of nowhere to make the social constructs of Christmas more fun for myself and those around me.

I feel like putting some of this together as a way to explain why I probably will never have a collection of Christmas music or your typical giddiness as the day approaches.

Christmas Past:

Not to complain (as I realize that my attitude is mostly my reaction to situations, not from any particular person or cause), but rather to explain I'll ask the question: "Where did all of this grinching come from?"
After reflection I've decided it probably something to do with the pressure of being one of the oldest kids out of both sides of my family, the first girl (on both sides), and the total attention of waaay to many adults after being dragged around without a nap for days on end. While I've been an attention whore my whole life, something about those preliminary years definitely affected me:

As I grew up, I (young, sugar-charged, and sleep deprived) was asked to babysit and organize my younger, equally sugar-charged, sleep-deprived cousins into family Christmas pageants every year upon our arrival at grandma's, which my perfectionist nature made into much more traumatic experiences than necessary. Add in many many years worth of this constant self-inflicted pressure, my grandmother's eternal need to create drama out of nowhere, complicated relationships between my parents and other relatives, one year's explosive expletive-filled expulsion from the Hughes-family festivities, and a growing sarcastic nature and this is what you get:
Christmas Present:

A smile on my face? Me, wearing a red Christmas sweater dress? Is this really even possible?
Evidently it is. If...

I just do all my shopping online a few weeks ahead except for a few projects I can knit up on planes and a couple of little things to pick up in the last week. And then I avoid all Christmas things, even on the road where decorations and constant music are ubiquitous. Perhaps I get sick with an intense cold, and spend a couple of days on the couch, knitting and avoiding food prep (especially the exhausting cookie making). Then, on Christmas Eve, I regain my strength, finish my shopping, wrap everything, and help with the prep for dinner. Christmas day, I manage to nap a bit, work on the set up for the second party in two days, and focus on the constant clean-up and moving along of the festivities while my house is besieged by 20 other people. I make sure that the white elephant gift exchange has written rules and take control so that it moves along as quickly as possible, making it possible for everyone to leave by 9:30pm. Then I give up and escape at around 10:30pm, when a few of my cousins start clunking out "heart and soul" on the piano over, and over, and over... directly above my bedroom, and then continue for another hour.If I can still have a smile on my face after all that... I can manage Christmas.

Christmas Future:

I can remember one time in my 25 Christmases where I understood the Christmas spirit and enjoyed my family and everything about the holiday. That was the year where my immediate family was traveling in the Southwest--touring about about in an RV from Phoenix to Santa Fe (where we spent Christmas itself) and onwards to Monument Valley, Chaco Canyon, and the Grand Canyon.

So my ideal Chirstmas wish is to eventually re-create this holiday escape... I'd love to spend the holiday in a snowy place like New England, or in a German or French town with Christmas markets, somewhere warm for a tropical Christmas in sundresses, or even just escaping to a cabin by the Washington Coast or in the San Jauns. Somewhere new every other year... away from all of the traditions that make me feel the triggers of the past.But we always have to have a Big Freakin Tree.

Before the Boarding Door Closes

Thoughts before boarding in O'Hare:

• Today was not the day to mess with me. I have a short fuse after being super exhausted (which no amount of sleeping 12 hours a day seems to fix), and having a lack of hot water in the morning and a heating system in my hotel banquet room on the fritz (for the second day, after they insisted it was working) definitely did not help. Don't ignore my 50th plea to fix the thermostat. Don't take 15 minutes to get to my request every time I ask while you insist you must lock me out of being able to touch the damn thing. Don't get defensive when I point out that a 30 second adjustment is all I'm asking for. Because you will pay for it with a verbal tounge-lashing resulting in me getting my way.
• I don't throw the hissy very often, but turns out it works. Like gangbusters.
• I still don't really get Chicago.
• I still don't get how people SUCK at going through security. Really, you had 15 minutes in line and you're just NOW emptying your pockets? Put it in your laptop bag, your coat pocket, a pocket on your rolling bag. Take out your laptop and hold it so you can put it straight in the bin. Untie your shoes if you're not wearing slip ons already. Take off your coat. Pull out your liquid ziplock. If there's no line, take your time... but with a 15+ minute line, you owe it to everyone else to figure it the hell out.
• Did I mention I'm grouchy today?
• Grouch Grouch Grouch Grouch Grouch Grouch Grouch Grouch
• Why won't people who clearly have been removed from my life stay removed? Not helping my grouchy day, buddy.
• They should have left this place an orchard.
• I'M COMING HOME FOR TWO WHOLE WEEKS IN TWO DAYS OH THANK GOD FOR CHRISTMAS BREAK I AM SO HAPPY!!!!!!!

It's A Love/Hate Relationship...

I hate my job when I start to have anxiety whether the company will even make it to May.

I LOVE my job when I get to do a stay-over in Nashville and do everything from party on Broadway to see a Grand Ole Opry show at the Ryman. No matter how tired I am today, taking advantage of flying all over the country starts again, NOW.

Re-routing and Overloading My Way Through Chicago

Instead of flying on a painfully long flight home on Friday night from Burlington, VT I had planned on an easy direct to Chicago to spend the weekend with Krista and CJ. Oh, if only that had been what had actually happened.

The two days out on the road before this weekend were pretty good. Sadly, I gave up my free day on Veterans Day up to fly trans-con to Manchester, NH. In Manchester, I sat in on a seminar for the first time. I was out with Ken Vieth, who is an amazing artist and art teacher. Unfortunately I was really not feeling creative for whatever reason and what I created that day during the hands on part of the seminar was disappointing. It was a great project though, and I intend to attempt the art on my own time at some point this coming week. We had a great talk on the drive to Burlington, VT as we drove towards a sparklingly beautiful sunset. He was the kind of guy who’s had amazing life experiences that he’s willing to talk about at length, but he also is a question asker and was interested in what stories I had to share as well. I really appreciated talking about my own issues with figuring out what my life’s passions are and what direction to go in after this BER year.

Burlington is on my list of favorite places in the country. I got him to join me out for dinner on Church Street, a fun pedestrian area of town that also has a Ben & Jerry’s store (pumpkin cheesecake ice cream anyone?!) and we wandered a bit just enjoying the college atmosphere and New England architecture. After the seminar the next day, we had a while before our flights so we went down and parked downtown and walked to Lake Champlain, which was staggeringly beautiful with mist and late-afternoon sunlight streaming across it. After one more scoop of Ben & Jerry’s we headed off to the airport, where we were greeted by the most glaringly awful flashing screens I’ve seen in a while.

Turned out, there was the remnants of a hurricane sitting over all of the major east coast hub airports. Ken’s flight to Newark was outright cancelled while my connection flight through Philly was delayed 6 hours. By working my PM magic and working with a brilliant US Airways ticket counter agent (she is getting a commendation letter from me, she was THAT great in the crisis!). Ken and I both flew on a US Air flight to LGA, I got him a car to get to Newark while I changed terminals and got on an American Airlines flight to Chicago, arriving barely half an hour late. Considering the situation was pretty shitty overall, the feeling I got after managing the whole thing seamlessly was amazing. This job has really given me skills that are real world applicable. If anyone wants to know exactly what to say to a ticket counter agent in this kind of situation, call me. :) Also, I was capable of getting my presenter from one airport to another, while getting myself from one terminal of a huge airport to the other terminal, through the correct security line, and still have a front of the plane aisle seat.

When I got on my American flight to ORD, I was pretty excited to actually be making it to my destination, but definitely planning on downing a glass of wine. When my seatmate sat down next to me though, I realized the universe was making it up to me for the previous stress of my day. The cut,e 24 year old NYC equities trader next to me who has family in Seattle was not only fun to talk to, but also all about proving himself to the older, better traveled, attractive female on his right. After he started name dropping celebrities I knew I was about to get my drinks paid for. And that is another thing this job has taught me: let them pay, even if they make fun of you for knitting. That way I get to keep my per-diem for exciting hotel stays in places like Nashville and Miami.

When I arrived in Chicago, Krista and CJ came and picked me up for a chill weekend in Chicago. I’ve already done all of the touristy stuff, so I just wanted to see their new neighborhood and maybe go thrifting. And did we! CJ is the most amazing chef ever... she whipped me up a salad to make up for the fact that I’d barely had time for a luna bar for dinner and then the next morning, after a trip to the most amazing ukrainian deli/grocery store, we had a scramble/fry that was potentially the best thing I’ve had in weeks (excepting my mom’s squash soup... *hint hint*). She also figured out the proper name of the coffee drink I wanted--a coranado or a wet macchiato... damn it I wan to be back in a place that understands “flat white.” Krista took me for a terrifying yet exhilarating scooter ride around the neighborhood and showed me her super-secrect favorite gift shop which was definitely worthy of being favorited.

Then we went to the thrift store. I am not allowed to disclose the actual location of this amazing treasure trove (as if I could find it myself if I tried), but Oh Damn. Thank god I threw a space bag in my suitcase to crunch down some of the amazingness I purchased. I got an extra pair of black flats (Nine West and brand new), a knock-off yet adorable Prada bag (which I call affectionately Frada), tons of sweaters and tops, and an American Apparel skirt, nevermind the already squished contents of my suitcase. We had a blast, and then to top it off, we went to possibly the world’s largest whole foods to grab dinner and to gawk at the rich Lincoln Center folks. People actually get glasses of wine and drink as they shop. How yuppie-fabulous can you get?

Now I am in the Pittiest of Burghs, about to meet an old friend for dinner before starting a week out with one of my favorite presenters from last year. It makes up for the fact that I’m headed to Akron and Detroit this week as well.

Swept Along for the Ride

And here we go again...

While the first few weeks of getting back on the road for BER were exhausting, frustrating, exhilarating, and stupefying, I didn't feel like getting back to the blog right away. I tend to fall into the trap of complaining a lot when I'm surrounded by inefficiencies, or rather, things that I would do differently. The company is changing up a few practices in the interest of saving money, and my first couple of weeks were sacrificed to the alter of making it work:

I started out the year on the road alone, setting up my seminars and piecing together my paperwork at the agonizingly slow speed that only 4.5 months away from something can provide. As the week progressed, I added a second presenter to the car and therefore a second seminar to my morning responsibility, and nearly melted down while waiting for my voicemail to be set up to ensure I had reliable contact with the office.

The second week out was more or less fine, although the finer points of getting along with a presenter took some refreshing... although the memory that all mistakes are forgiven if you make a Starbucks run was the quickest to return.

This last week, once again burdened with two seminars, I managed as best I could while FedEx attempted to foil me over and over. Problems that I had never run into in the whole of the last year cropped up--the missing tech case, the wrong CEU paperwork shipped to me, and a box packaged inside of another box with all identifying information destroyed. That along with managing the personalities of two male presenters, one of whom was extremely hard of hearing, with two opposing senses of humor was a lot to handle. My sanity was saved in Manchester, at my Hampton Inn with a Sauna and at the best meeting facility in the whole USA--SERESC. There will be future posts about SERESC, perhaps even an ode.

This week, I had already had my Monday seminar cancelled when I got a call Sunday night letting me know that my packing procrastination had paid off--no Tuesday seminar either (sadly, due to a death in the family of the presenter). Two days working in the office in Bellevue, and a flight out tomorrow morning. I only regret the time I didn't get to spend christmas shopping in Manchester.

All in all, I think the complaining can come to a rest now, and I can go back to buzzing around the country marveling at how great life can be. And since my photos from NZ, Fiji, and Sydney are all up on Flickr now, I think I can start taking pictures again. Hope you're all ready for this...

Amplification

Sometimes I think the more difficult a presenter is only amplifies the problems we will face that week. In a typical week, there's at least one day where the room is set up all wonky or where the sound system is total crap, but when you meet someone who has more than their 3 allotted suitcases, you know it's going to be even worse than normal.

First off, it's not impossible to pack light, in fact almost all of the crap I see my presenters set out in the morning is completely worthless. This week I have a presenter who has her own (albeit miniature, it's designed for backpackers) guitar with her... and she uses it MAYBE twice during the day, for less than 5 minutes at a time. The guitar case, along with her three suitcases and a backpack definitely puts her over the flying carry-on limit. All for 10 minutes of showing off that she can play simple chords. Not necessary at all, and all that crap only means we'll have a harder time packing up the car and setting up at the start of the day. You're starting off at a disadvantage already.

Second, what's with needing a ridiculous amount of complicated set up? If you are so particular that you request your tables in a specific pattern on a diagram, then complain that you have to move them into a different pattern every morning, which the set up people would have to be telepathic to figure out, you're setting yourself up to spend way too much time moving tables. This goes along with having too much stuff--less stuff requires less display space. Plus, stop being so anal and be a little flexible, it'll save you oodles of time and make everyone happier.

Last, what's with the attitude? I'm no "The Secret" follower, but really, I always hit unavoidable traffic, have completely absent hotel staff, or have a speaker blow up when I'm with the more anxious presenters. Maybe I just don't notice the bad stuff when I'm with people who aren't expecting everything to go wrong, or who react with calm efficiency when a wrench does get thrown in the works. Calm down and let things simply happen... it'll make your ulcer fade a bit and make my day (and yours!) so much better.

This week, as with last week, I've got a presenter with too much stuff, too much anxiety, and too little flexibility. Both are fun, wonderful people, but the sheer amount of stress they hold (and pass along to me) is ubsurd. This week I'm having microphone problems, which is bad enough as it is, but with someone who is so laden with baggage it's ten times worse. Hopefully the problem will be solved soon via a new microphone, but until then, I'm just keeping on keeping on. If I stay calm and content it balances things a bit.

I Hate My Job/I Love My Job

I hate my job when... the presenter treats me like a personal assistant, asks me to go get her heavy box out of the car for her, and has a tone in her voice that simply says she thinks I am beneath her.

I love my job when... I basically say, "Peace out!" and go for a run on the sunny and sandy boardwalk in Virginia Beach during my lunch break. Don't you dare give me crap for it, I'm driving your snoring and drooling butt almost 4 hours tonight, so damn straight I'm taking an hour and a half for lunch.Damn Straight.

Penny for Your Thoughts

Six cents worth:

1. Who knew central Pennsylvania was so beautiful?

2. Is it really a compliment when your presenter says he likes that "you drive fast but not carelessly"?

3. I've acclimated. Fifteen degrees is no longer cold.

4. It's amazing how magnificant my own bed seems once I've been on the road more than a week, even though the hotel beds are sometimes so much better appointed.

5. McDonnalds coffee is not much cheaper and definitely not better than Starbucks coffee. And when I ordered, the girl couldn't fathom someone ordering a latte without a flavor.

6. Driving sometimes requires caffine. Sleeping requires a lack of caffine. This is how one becomes sleep deprived.

Hope and Its Burden

Okay, Vegas stories to come for all you patient chickadees, but there's other things I'd like to say first about the inauguration, if you'll allow me a rather circuitous route to it...

Life has a way of changing what I think of it constantly, especially regarding its purpose. As a child, I can remember being very moment-to-moment about my goals in life. My purpose was always some tangible thing or translatable abstraction--from being a scientist and curing cancer to having a life philosophy of tolerance, it was all very clearly defined, straightforward, and completely rationalized. At some point in my teen years, I lost all forms of faith and optimism, realizing that the forms of spirituality in my life were clogged with human failings and childish obedience rather than any real understanding of hope. I'm sure you all have undergone similar questioning periods or ambivalent stages in your life regarding what you are really here to accomplish, even if they were not so pronounced or disruptive as mine or perhaps more so. We all eventually have to realize that our state of understanding is in constant flux if we are ever to come to terms with our own failings and achieve any kind of real wisdom.

Not that I claim any kind of real wisdom; I am only just now coming to the full understanding that what I think now will eventually be usurped by another thought and that I will never achieve any final pinnacle of awareness. There is no final pinnacle after all, and no better or worse. No, what I am trying to say is that I'm just now coming to the understanding that the purpose of my life, in this moment at least, is evolution (And before you say anything... I don't mean a biological evolution, Jeff ;)). If you pay attention, you'll see a pattern of reoccurrences in your life. Every time a situation arises it provides you an opportunity to react however you want. When you refuse to change how you react, you do not evolve but only continue to perpetuate the cycle. If you break the cycle, new opportunities can arise for you to grow and evolve in new ways. The funny thing is, no one has to be conscious of this pattern and often your growth occurs in a sub-conscious state, but if you pay attention to it, you can start to control it.

I could go into my latest thoughts on life here, but without belaboring the point this last summer I started to see this pattern in a different way than I had before. Deliberately, I pulled myself away from the path that I had found myself on, and stepped outside of the cycle. Albeit, I did it in a fairly comfortable way--with a job that was relatively easy to get (due to strong connections and actual experience I had never realized I had) and that provided me with a short term guarantee of not having to figure out what else to do. My outright, conscious goal with this job was to push my limits of my self-definition, primarily socially. What happened was a strange shift. I discovered that the social definition was a piece of cake to alter, but multiple other aspects of my life shifted far more drastically than I had even dreamed. Somehow, I am now absurdly optimistic compared to the girl I was six months ago. I am happier, healthier, more stable, and so much more in control of my life that most of my anxiety about my future career has become a flimsy shadow of what it once was.

So there's a personal reason that when I sit in my hotel rooms alone with my TV, I start bawling every time I listen to Obama give a speech. It's not that I agree with everything he says, or expect that things will change overnight, it's that the rhetoric he uses meshes so completely with the experience I've had lately. He speaks about the evolution of America, with the obvious example of the gradual change from slavery to an African American president, but he carries it on into the future. While the last 8 years have been about staying the course and fighting any threat to our way of life as if America was a static nation, Obama is explicitly working at changing our way of life while retaining the principles that made us great. America is an ideal, one that may never be fully realized but one that we can strive towards, and while there is real work to be done, Obama's optimism regarding the ideology of our country is absolutely refreshing. After all, I have learned the value of being optimistic over the last few months... Less things go wrong when you optimistically know that it will all work out, if only because you automatically make space in your mind to react rather than anticipate and therefore can rectify any situation far faster.

His message is focused on sacrifice as well, with emphasis on the idea of community and hard work. I have long spent time separating myself from those around me since at one time, those around me separated themselves from me. Again, his message hits a nerve... as I have slowly begun to understand what a true community of friends I have and can have, and what a difference my "new-found" social skills have made. Acting out of Love towards everyone I meet is something I never really consciously decided to do, but I found myself doing it and started noticing it. A warm greeting and the intention of empathy in my heart makes such a difference... it's simply astounding.

So for me, every time our new president has gotten up on his podium to tell the American people that "Yes, We Can," my heart wrenches in the best way possible. I think I cry for the lost time, for the pain we all had to inflict on ourselves before we could come to this understanding and the pain that will continue to afflict us. I cry for the people who cannot fully understand the power of this kind of philosophy, including my own self-consciously simplistic understanding. I cry for the fear that the hope will fade and that the fear-mongering of the last few years will drop a pall over this light. I cry because I feel such immense joy that this world can change if we only let the power of the human spirit burst free of the chains of pessimism. I cry because I am intimately and personally wrapped around the philosophies that I am hearing our country embrace. I cry because I know that tomorrow the practical aspects of daily life will come creeping in on the celebration, and that we will all be tested as to whether we can actually live up to these ideals.

Martin Luther King Jr. was an idealist who never saw his full dream realized. The dreams of today will undoubtedly be similarly long-lasting and long-languishing before they can be fully realized. I smile because I know that there are others in the world that share the burden of hope that one day they will be realized. One day, we will evolve.