By the time I finish my MBA, I will have spent six years of my life "living" and working at the same intersection. Now, I know that's not a long time compared to how long some folks spend at an employer, but that will be about 22% of my life.
You probably have tacit knowledge about something. Perhaps it's how to play the piano, knowing just how much of a spice to add to a dish, or how to tell great jokes (if you have this skill, I'm jealous). Well, I have the same knowledge about this intersection. That bridge just to the east connecting Humanities and Vilas? I couldn't tell you what it's called (if it even has a name), but I can tell you how many times a week I crossed it during my sophomore year of college and could probably estimate how many cars pass under it each day. The dorm to the northwest? I can walk you around inside and tell you where people lived five years ago. And Grainger? Well, how well do you know your own home?
I guess life has many intersections, although most of them aren't physical. Most of them are decisions and not are all as neatly controlled as University and Park. Which school should I go to? Where should I live when I get there? But some are downright messy. Should I follow someone to a different city for the sake of preserving the relationship? Should I take the job with higher pay or a nicer work environment? Choosing which direction to turn can depend on which lane you're in to start with, how long you're willing to wait at a red light before caving and turning right, or even how fast you can accelerate through life's yellow lights.
In the end, most decisions are reversible, so don't spend too much time double-checking that the street signs match your GPS. Go for it. Just make sure you turn the right way onto one-way streets.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Don't Worry
My absence from the blog is certainly not due to lack of material. I've just forgotten how to write.
Life has been full of fun changes, events, and people lately! Perhaps I've lacked enough time to let my thoughts fully percolate, or maybe I've forgotten the therapeutic value of expressing myself this way. Or, even more likely, I've been frustrated by how inadequately writing captures the "essence" of my experiences. Sure, there are words to describe the sea of people at an outdoor hockey game or how large of a pile of stuff has accumulated in my spare bedroom lately, but how do you capture the warm, content feeling you have after a great breakfast with friends? There's another layer of life that's difficult to pin down with words. I guess it takes practice. Time to get back in shape!
I have long intended to write about the multi-year-long thought process I'm currently going through about grad school and the upcoming life thereafter. It began a long, long time ago, but at no real distinct moment. More on that later. For now, I'll start my exercise regimen mid-season (mid-race, even) in an effort to catch up to my marathon-running friends by walking after them to pick up their water cups. I will try to tell you about the great breakfast I mentioned earlier...
Sophia's Bakery is on the east side of town which, I must admit (even as a west-sider), has more "soul" than the west side. There's something deeper about people over there. What is it? It's that other layer that I can't figure out how to capture or emulate. Perhaps it's the side of town or maybe just the time of day, but everyone at Sophia's seems like old friends on a Sunday morning. The restaurant has community-style seating, which certainly helps this relaxed feeling. The whole place hums like a happy beehive and smells like perfectly-cooked bacon... I was about to become one of those lucky bees.
Today, I met three friends there to celebrate SG's birthday. The food was great and the company was specular, as always. On top of the table are omelets filled with asparagus, leek, and dill or even red pepper, sweet potato, and onion... help-yourself coffee... almond croissants... ginger-pear waffles with fresh whipped cream... Around the table are friends who are really strangers, or maybe the other way around. Our little corner of the table was full of memories, sweet cheese blintzes, and very happy tummies. As the meal progressed, I lost myself in the hypnotic back-and-forth rhythm of a good conversation that is dominated by no one and directed by whim alone. How delightful! The coffee was kicking in and I felt fully alert but had no desire to get up and run off to do something, as is usually the case. Had I reached "the other layer?"
The four of us scooped up the last bit of crepe, the final taste of waffle, the ultimate bite of cheesy omelet, trying to solidify the flavor in our memories. We said goodbye to our new stranger-friends and headed back outside with the smell of that good bacon clinging to our clothes.
As I sat in my car afterward digesting the food and the experience, I pondered how I could achieve this delightful feeling more often. What made these people so relaxed and at ease? So friendly and welcoming to complete strangers? Willing to give up their seats so a young family can sit down together? As near as I can figure, their mantra must be "Don't worry." And guess what I saw on my way home...
Life has been full of fun changes, events, and people lately! Perhaps I've lacked enough time to let my thoughts fully percolate, or maybe I've forgotten the therapeutic value of expressing myself this way. Or, even more likely, I've been frustrated by how inadequately writing captures the "essence" of my experiences. Sure, there are words to describe the sea of people at an outdoor hockey game or how large of a pile of stuff has accumulated in my spare bedroom lately, but how do you capture the warm, content feeling you have after a great breakfast with friends? There's another layer of life that's difficult to pin down with words. I guess it takes practice. Time to get back in shape!
I have long intended to write about the multi-year-long thought process I'm currently going through about grad school and the upcoming life thereafter. It began a long, long time ago, but at no real distinct moment. More on that later. For now, I'll start my exercise regimen mid-season (mid-race, even) in an effort to catch up to my marathon-running friends by walking after them to pick up their water cups. I will try to tell you about the great breakfast I mentioned earlier...
Sophia's Bakery is on the east side of town which, I must admit (even as a west-sider), has more "soul" than the west side. There's something deeper about people over there. What is it? It's that other layer that I can't figure out how to capture or emulate. Perhaps it's the side of town or maybe just the time of day, but everyone at Sophia's seems like old friends on a Sunday morning. The restaurant has community-style seating, which certainly helps this relaxed feeling. The whole place hums like a happy beehive and smells like perfectly-cooked bacon... I was about to become one of those lucky bees.
Today, I met three friends there to celebrate SG's birthday. The food was great and the company was specular, as always. On top of the table are omelets filled with asparagus, leek, and dill or even red pepper, sweet potato, and onion... help-yourself coffee... almond croissants... ginger-pear waffles with fresh whipped cream... Around the table are friends who are really strangers, or maybe the other way around. Our little corner of the table was full of memories, sweet cheese blintzes, and very happy tummies. As the meal progressed, I lost myself in the hypnotic back-and-forth rhythm of a good conversation that is dominated by no one and directed by whim alone. How delightful! The coffee was kicking in and I felt fully alert but had no desire to get up and run off to do something, as is usually the case. Had I reached "the other layer?"
The four of us scooped up the last bit of crepe, the final taste of waffle, the ultimate bite of cheesy omelet, trying to solidify the flavor in our memories. We said goodbye to our new stranger-friends and headed back outside with the smell of that good bacon clinging to our clothes.
As I sat in my car afterward digesting the food and the experience, I pondered how I could achieve this delightful feeling more often. What made these people so relaxed and at ease? So friendly and welcoming to complete strangers? Willing to give up their seats so a young family can sit down together? As near as I can figure, their mantra must be "Don't worry." And guess what I saw on my way home...
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