Life as an Extreme Sport

forced perspective

Interesting evening yesterday. I realized, pouring myself in to bed at 3am, that one of the things I like most about my job is that my boss is what would happen if you took the energy of the dotcom era startup companies and poured it into bioethics. It’s a combination of everything I love about my field and everything I loved about the computer industry – there is a lot of mad energy and joy in the sort of creative energy that exists in that startup environment, and it was something I thrived on. I think it might be why I overloaded myself so much while an undergrad at UW – I seem to do much better if I’m juggling 12 balls at once, rather than 3. I’m not entirely sure why that works the way it does, but there you go. Maybe it’s just that too much down time makes for idle hands; I always feel so slow if I have too much time and not enough interesting things to do. (Of course, therein lies the rub – there’s always a lot to do, but most of it is boring stuff like housework, and why would I want to do that? Much more fun to be swinging madly from the chandelier, trying to grade papers in one hand while write a term paper in the other.)

That, however, was not necessarily the interesting part – that was just the fun part of the night, finding myself back in an environment so familiar, but enhanced with all the things I love of the academe. The interesting part was having an aspect of my personality called out, and being forced to acknowledge that in fact, I do like being in the middle of everything, knowing and watching what is going on. I do continually find myself in these places of watching groups and conflict, and said boss was right – I enjoy it, and need to stop acting like I don’t. There is a definite pleasure in realizing what’s going on, socially, politically or otherwise, and then watching it play out as predicted.

What the boss was wrong about, however, is that I enjoy it all the time. While there’s a definite enjoyment and (I’ll admit it) smugness about seeing things and piecing things together that no one realizes I’ve figured out (a sort of ha-ha, take that, attitude), I rapidly dislike it when I move from being observer to participant. As the song goes, I’m only watching the game – I don’t like being forced to play in it.

The vast majority of the time, I can maintain my observer status and simply watch. But I get cranky, stressed out, and otherwise unhappy when I’m booted off that observing perch and forced to play. Normally, this doesn’t happen, but there are times where by virtue of needing to make decisions, it does. What I am thinking of, in particular, is being placed in a position where someone reveals something to me that will negatively affect someone I am loyal to – because in my world, love, affection and loyalty are powerful, inter-related concepts that trump just about everything else. And if you place me in a spot where I have to come down from the observers tower and interact with the players, it’s because you’ve done something against someone I do have powerful emotional entanglements with.

Unfortunately, I think I generally play those commitments towards others very close to my chest – I have to, in order to watch the game. So the stress then comes from being forced (in my view) to reveal those commitments by virtue of wanting to make sure that the person I care about is okay. Revealing commitments then leaves me open to having that caring rejected – and I think I’d rather just care quietly about people than knowing it’s unwanted or unwelcomed.

All of which I never would have really thought about or articulated if I hadn’t been forced to, which in itself is interesting.

rain

The day started off beautifully, and just did one of those midtempo shifts that left me crying in the SUNY parking lot. I just cracked, much like a certain fairy tale egg, and the final straw (to mix my metaphors wildly) was stepping outside the front door and smelling the rain.

As Genevieve noted elsewhere, earlier today, Seattleites know rain like Eskimo’s know snow. There are different kinds of rain, for different sorts of seasons, and when I walked outside today the scent that hit me, overwhelmed me, made me realize just how out of my depth I am, was that sweet spring Seattle rain. Fresh, light, almost loamy, refreshing – like a forest, damp and warm and just good. My favourite kind of rain to sit outside in, at a fountain or park, the dockside, or even some cemeteries.

I’m having one of those days where I wonder if I can do this. I wonder if I’m truly as kind and compassionate and warm as I want to be. Being back here makes it hard to judge myself against my norm, since back here, I’m several times warmer, friendlier, and more cheerful than other people. (As I told Lisa, it’s a scary place where I am the cheerful one!) And I’m worried. Lack of communication is the one thing that really makes me spin out and freak out (we’ll thank the ex for that one), and I’m not convinced, right now, I can do this.

Of course, today was also probably the worst day to forget to take my medications, and be sans pain control. Everything ached more, and I had the patience of a gnat by 4pm.

I just wish… I realized, when I was in Seattle, that I touched more people in my short (less than 36 hour) stay there than I have since I left Seattle in June, 2006. People back here are not affectionate, not in the same way. In fact, I’m pretty sure today is the first time I’ve touched anyone since I was in Seattle.

Sigh. This is all over the place. That’s because I feel like I’ve been hit my a freight truck and hosed down with a fire hose. But at least I’ll have teflon skin with this is all said and done…

When it rains, eh? When it rains…

Cadbury

I’ve talked about animal care and medicine before, and this morning, Jennifer over at the Women’s Bioethics Blog writes about companies providing vet insurance as a benefit of employment, and whether it’s a good thing, or if we’re (to be blunt, and in my own words) insane for treating our pets like members of our family.

But for those of us with pets, and as I explain in my comment to Jennifer, they are our family, or at least a big part of it. Pets love us unconditionally, are there for us at all times, and mostly just want us to take the time to cuddle and love them. When you’re having a bad day, there’s not much better in life than to come home and curl up with a purring cat in your lap, or a happy dog on your legs. And the benefits pets give us, medically and socially, are well documented. If you have pets, you know this and get it… and if not? I can’t help but feel you’re missing out.

With that said, I hope you’ll all join me in sending Daniel and his family sympathies at this time – his photogenically goofy Cadbury passed away yesterday. While it wasn’t unexpected, for reasons Daniel explains, it’s still a sad loss, and I know Cadbury will be deeply missed.

home

I wondered what it would be like, returning to Seattle after nearly 9 months gone. What would I feel when I saw the familiar city skyline that I can trace in my sleep, when I drove down roads I used to see daily, walk the paths at the University of Washington, go to the places I literally spent more time than anywhere else the past three years of my life.

When I saw the skyline, I felt the twinges of the familiar, but it didn’t call home. The mountains are beautiful, covered in snow, and I remembered how much I miss that form of beauty around me, but at the same time, I found myself missing the broad, open skyline that I first fell in love with in Reno, and found again in Albany. The waves at the waterfront lapped against the dock, and tugged at my heart and imagination, but not enough to pool any regret.

But at the same time, I discovered home in places I would have never thought to look. In a short, spiky bobbed hair cut and infectious laugh, and in blue eyes. In laugh-lined eyes circled by glasses. In tight hugs that ended too soon, tickled by scruffy beards, and the comfort of being able to relax into someone, safe and warm.

In not enough kisses, and too many tears.

Home caught me off guard, not being in a place, but being in people.

I know you’re scared that I’ll soon be over it
That’s part of it all
Part of the beauty of falling in love with you is the fear you won’t fall
It hasn’t felt like this before
It hasn’t felt like home before you
And I know it’s easy to say but it’s harder to feel
This way
And I miss you more than I should than I thought I could
Can’t get my mind off of you

the office is out on a morale retreat, please call back later

I like how Sandra sums this trip up: a morale retreat. And oh, has it been. Surprisingly, I don’t find that I miss Seattle – and this is truly a surprise. I miss aspects of it, sure, and I definitely and heartwrenchingly miss the people, but the city itself? Notsomuch.

But I realized today, over beer, that I have had more physical contact with people today than I have had since I left Seattle, in June 2006. Literally from the moment I met up with Lizzy for lunch, I have been hugging, touching, kissing, leaning against, on, or over people. Reaching out to brush hair out of someone’s face, running my fingers through a scruffy beard, rubbing a back, patting, hands resting together.

This is what I miss.