Stages of Rain

It starts off with a soft pitter patter, drops falling slowly and gently on your skin as your strides start to quicken.  It’s not a big deal, just a few light drops.  You have an umbrella in your bag, but you decide to play chicken with Mother Nature and see how much she can dish out.  Your destination is still far away, but she hasn’t thrown anything at you yet that might make you even consider ducking away for shelter.  ‘Tis the calm before the storm.

The pitter patters slowly become heavier, with more volume per pit and pat.  Your jacket seems to be insulating your body well enough, though, and a hat on top of your head protects the rest of your exposed regions.  Is that the best you’ve got Mother Nature?  You’ve definitely felt worse before, and it doesn’t seem like a big deal.  You continue to walk towards your destination, unscathed.

But then it all starts to pick up.  The clouds’ tears are no long ignorable, soaking your hat and dampening your jacket.  Pits and pats are rapidly descending from the heavens, like bullets raining from the sky.  Guess I should probably take out that umbrella about now.  You reach into your bag and open your rain deterrent device, letting it act as a shield towards the skies.  You are not dry, but at least you are no longer getting wet.  Your destination is far, but you proceed with the utmost of confidence.

The bullets turn into streams, flowing freely towards the ground, towards your umbrella, and pouring off the edges.  This is getting pretty serious, I hope it doesn’t get too much worse.  The umbrella seems to be doing a good job of protecting you, as long as you don’t walk too fast.  Otherwise, the streams of water would trickle off the edge of your umbrella and head towards your body.  Slowly but surely, you walk with caution, hoping it doesn’t get worse.

The wind starts to blow more violently, sideways even.  You try to hold your umbrella at an angle to protect you from the violent snakes of water winding their way towards you, but their bite is hard and their venom courses through your clothes.  Is it even possible to stay dry in this type of weather?  Your umbrella breaks, leaving you helpless and wet.  You look at it in mourning and decide to leave it in the next trash can you happen to pass by.  Your jacket is water resistant, but not waterproof, and your hat has become a soggy mess.  You still have about 10 minutes to get home, so you start to run, hoping to preserve the tiny bit of dryness you still have going for you.

Running in a massive downpour, it seems, is not the best idea for staying dry.  The best course of action would be to be inside, but you are determined to make it home.  Running is making you tired, and you eventually decide to just walk at a steady pace, letting the rain take you over.  I’m completely soaked now, might as well embrace the water.  You stop caring about being wet and cold, oddly warming you up a bit.  You let the rain flow down your face, into your clothes, under your skin.  It begins to feel natural, like it would be the wrong thing to try to be dry.  You are one with the water, and it is a part of you.  The rest of your walk home is spent in complete bliss, enjoying every second of soaked goodness.  You have completely given yourself up to the rain.

You enter your apartment and immediately begin to feel like your skin doesn’t fit.  I wish I were back outside in the rain.  It doesn’t make any sense, but the lack of rain makes you long for the outdoors again.  You can’t sit on any of your furniture for fear of making your entire apartment wet.  Instead, you get into the tub and shower yourself with warm salvation, becoming one again with your greatest enemy and your newfound friend.

That Time I Stayed At The Office Until 11 PM

There are so many differences between you and me, but maybe those differences come with years.  You were a 40-year-old desktop engineer, and I was a technical writer, fresh out of college.  You worked at home most of the year because it helped you focus.  I worked at home sometimes so I could be more comfortable.  You took this job because you wanted a challenge.  I took this job because it paid the bills.  You stayed until you wanted to leave, and I left after my nine hours were up.  You loved your job, and I did mine.

Sometimes changes take time.  Sometimes they sort of creep into your life, slowly infiltrating whatever rut you happen to find yourself in, settling in a warm and comfy corner of your agenda.  But sometimes changes happen overnight.  Sometimes, you meet the right people at the right times, and something incredible happens.

You were a remote employee, working from the safety of your own home somewhere in Oklahoma, and I was a DC-based employee tired of the business-casual way of life.  I’d seen you around the office a few times, and I think you were hired a week or so after I joined the firm, but we’d never really talked much.  Our work never intersected, and I had no reason to reach out to a member of another team, especially if you weren’t in the office for most of the year.

But by some chance of fate, we shared a cubicle this week.

The last man to sit where you sat made a lasting impression.  Maybe it’s the spot, or maybe it’s the people we choose to hire, but that seat has yet to produce someone who hasn’t taught me some kind of lesson.

The week started off with a series of new assignments, like any other week.  On Monday, I did my job and left after 9 hours of work, like any other Monday.  You were there when I arrived and you were there when I left.  Jokingly, as I left, I told you to not work too hard, and to get back to your hotel to rest up for the next day of work.

On Tuesday, you were there when I arrived and you were there when I left.  That morning, you told me you had been in the office until 10 PM the night before, and I told you I had never heard of such a thing.  I left after 9 hours of work, and I told you not to work too hard.

On Wednesday, you were there when I arrived.  You told me you had worked until 9 PM the night before, and you gave me another heart attack.  I told you that on this particular Wednesday, you would not be there when I left.  I vowed to stay and work however late you happened to stay.

We ended up staying in the office until 11 PM that night, and I regret none of it.

At first, you thought I was joking—everyone thought I was joking.  You were known for your insanely high work ethic, and whenever you stayed late, you braved the empty office alone.  But when my 9 hours of work came and went, you began to see that I was serious.

Soon, the office was empty except for the two of us.

Throughout the evening, I made a point to make conversation, and got to know you a little better because of it.  You never graduated from college, which I found incredibly surprising given how brilliant you were.  In the 90s, you started your own computing company out your garage, convincing a major tech company to acquire you.  You learned everything you knew by reading on your own time, and your thirst for knowledge was limitless.  You moved your way through the ranks at the tech company, eventually creating one-of-a-kind software that made you invaluable.  And you left your old company to join ours because you wanted more challenge, more knowledge.  You were perpetually searching out the unknown, and it seemed you wouldn’t stop until you learned everything there was to know.  Your backstory alone was fit for an inspirational monologue, but that wasn’t all I got out of the night.

You were working on finding a fix to a problem that had been unsolvable for the past two days, and the focus you possessed was otherworldly.  I had never seen anyone come up with so many possible ways to solve a problem, persevering throughout the late hours of the night when each potential solution was met with failure.  I had never seen anyone start talking to themselves out loud whenever they were reasoning through why a solution failed and what the next steps they wanted to take would be.  I had never seen anyone insult themselves out loud when they became frustrated with their work, pumping themselves up for the next round of trial-and-error.  I had never seen anyone pace back and forth with such vigor, calling his boss in 30 minute increments to provide status updates.  I had never seen a boss so receptive to an employee calling at such odd hours of the night.

And I had never seen anyone display as much triumph after finally figuring out a solution that worked.

That time I stayed at the office until 11 PM with you, I learned a valuable lesson.  You get so much more out of a job if you look at it as more than a job.  If you invest more than simply the 9 hours you are required to work, the rewards are noticeable, and not just the monetary ones.  If you buy into the work you are doing, you get more of those triumphant feelings that you got at the end of the night.  You care about what you are doing, and you start to do it better.  Work stops becoming a chore and starts becoming something you enjoy.  If you are thirsty for knowledge and experience, you will drink the whole lake.

So I’m turning over a new leaf.  I’m staying late when I’m on a roll, and I’m not counting down the minutes until 9 hours of work have passed.  I’m starting to care about what I’m doing and take pride in the work I complete.  I’m taking on more responsibility and buying in.

And that’s why you should stay in the office until 11 PM sometime.

If I Had Liveblogged The GW Inaugural Ball

So, I went to the GW Inaugural Ball last night, and because I’m one of these hip, young, crazy cats who doesn’t have a smartphone, I wasn’t able to liveblog it.  But if I had, it would look something like this:

6:18 PM: Wait, I gotta wear a suit to this thing?

6:23 PM: WHY WON’T THIS SHIRT IRON???

6:47 PM: Just passed several men wearing bowties and what seem to be tuxedos.  This thing seems pretty legit.  Hope my suit and tie will suffice.

6:55 PM: Feeling wary about wearing this tie.  Sitting here while Mohan and Leah are getting ready in Johee’s room.  Mohan’s got this makeshift tux with a bowtie, cuff links, and these shiny gold things you attach to your shirt buttons.  I didn’t even know they made those.  There’s this thing that you put on your waist that looks like a back brace, but is a classy way of looking fancy and hiding your belt.  Note to self: learn about fancy things.  Youtubing “How to tie a bowtie.”  Learning new things every day.

7:00 PM: Just learned you’re not supposed to wear boxers with a suit.  Need to buy new underwear.

7:16 PM: Guess Mohan’s got a clip-on bowtie.  Crisis averted.

7:18 PM: Johee just took a shot all by herself.  Not really into heavy drinking on a Monday night.  Guess some Asians can take their liquor better than others.

7:55 PM: Sprinted to catch a shuttle, passing a large group of people.  We got to the shuttle only to find it was full, and the huge group of people we just passed were now all in line for the next one.  We fail at life.

8:12 PM: Mohan just found a tie in his pocket.  #ExtraDressClothes

8:33 PM: Egg rolls, chicken skewers, veggie dumplings, and pork buns.  Mmmmmm.

8:34 PM: Two couples just started ballroom dancing on the dance floor.  Everyone is awestruck.  Wow.

8:44 PM: There’s now a large line for the food.  Tragedy has struck.

8:59 PM: These old folks sure know how to get down.  Pretty sure I just witnessed an 80-year-old man singing the lyrics to “Dynamite,” by Taio Cruz.

9:12 PM: Maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this Cupid Shuffle thing.  If I understand correctly, move right, move left, kick a bit, then turn to the left.  I am a master now.

9:32 PM: Cell phone reception is spotty/nonexistent.  Where are you Alex Loo and Ilana Stein?!?!?

10:17 PM: Some guy thought Mohan was hitting on his boyfriend when he motioned for me to come on to the dance floor.  Fight ensues.  Just kidding, Mohan would’ve wiped the floor with that guy, no contest.  Instead, awkward laughter fills the silence.

10:34 PM: Just tried swing dancing.  Feet can’t move fast enough.

11:14 PM: There is definitely a couple having sex on the dance floor.  The girl keeps falling over onto us though.  Severe humping happening over here.  Stay classy, GW.

11:17 PM: Why is everyone here drunk except for me?  Maybe because drinks are $9 each.  Next time, I bring a flask.

11:22 PM: #OverheardAtTheBall "This is the weirdest Bat Mitzvah ever."

11:25 PM: Lost Leah.  Have been searching for about 10 minutes now.  Gave up.  Down a friend for the time being.  Cell reception still nonexistent.

11:33 PM: Leah returns.  Good thing we stayed in the same spot for 20 minutes.

11:50 PM: Strange man approaches us and asks us where we are all from.  The smell of liquor is strong with this one, so we decide it’s time to leave.  Also, we burned a hole in a plastic cup with the table candles.

12:24 PM: Got our coats, went outside, and it is absolutely FREEZING.  The lines for the shuttles look long, and we decide to wait it out inside.

12:30 PM: Found a machine that lets you print instagrammed photos for free.  Time to take pictures!

12:40 PM: Got my instagrammed souvenir for the night.  I feel very current.

12:50 PM: Boarded the bus to get driven back to GW.  I am not sure if this night was worth $100.  GW gets our money again.  At least this only happens every 4 years.

An Open Letter To Coffee

Dear Coffee,

I know we’ve been in an on-again-off-again relationship throughout the years, and I think it’s about time I came clean.  I love you, I really do, but you’ve got to stop taking advantage of me.

I know I’ve abused you, and you’ve surely abused me, but it’s about time we stopped this.  We’re adults now, aren’t we?  Or at least one of us is, and this one can’t take your shenanigans anymore.

Believe it or not, you’ve made me tired.  You’ve made me tired of productivity bursts followed by intense yawning and tired of frequent hookups in order to avoid the helplessness I experience after you’ve gone.  I suppose it’s partly my fault for needing you so badly, emotionally and physically, but it takes two to tango bucko, and you’re not off the hook.  I’m tired of the ups and downs associated with the way I spend my time with and without you.  And I’m tired of your deceptive ways.

You’ve deceived me into thinking that I can survive without a healthy dose of my good friend, Sleep.  Sleep and I had a chat, and we decided that if I were to start seeing you again, I can’t abandon him like all of the other times we’ve gotten together.  I have other important friends in my life, and you can’t make me stop hanging out with them.

My friend Eating also wants to have a talk with you.  The two of you have never gotten along very well in the past, but he’s willing to forgive and forget.  I’ve had a healthy relationship with Eating as of late, and we both remember what you did to us last time, so tread with caution.  I’m a lot less needy this time around, and I’ve got good friends to protect me from your sneaky ways.

I think we need to start as acquaintances.  I can’t handle a full on friendship with you right away, with all that we’ve been through in the past.  You’ve left your marks and I think this time it’s a good idea if we take it slow.  Maybe we’ll have breakfast, or maybe I can see you after lunch, but only one or the other.  Let’s hold off on dinner for a while.

And another thing.  I feel the need to include the disclaimer that while I am less needy, life has been pretty tough for me lately, so I might be a little bit vulnerable.  Work has been hectic and stressful, but I trust you to not take advantage of me.  I’ve sworn to not abuse you, and you’re going to have to do the same.  I know it will be hard, but it’s very important that we don’t slip back into our old ways.

I’m giving you a chance to rewrite your past wrongs.  I’ve grown up and I’m much happier with myself than I used to be, and I think it’s time.  Have you grown up as well?  I think we owe it to ourselves to at least give it one more shot.

Now if you excuse me, I’ve got to go visit my good friend Sleep for a bit.

Best,

Brian

Windows For Sale

Hello, my name is Brian, and I am a window salesman.  I carry a few types of windows, so listen closely.

Would you like a window into my mind?  Pay me in thoughtful conversation, black coffee, and attentive ears.  You can see into the fog of my opinions, changing and forming as I meet new people with new ideas.  Sometimes this window is cloudy.

Would you like a window to my past?  Pay me in empathy or sympathy, whichever you prefer.  But I warn you, it’s full of pain and suffering and happiness and celebration.  It’s probably like many other windows you’ve peered through before.  Maybe mine has more blogging.

Would you like a window into my hopes and dreams?  You can’t buy this one right away—it requires an investment.  Invest your time, your heart, and your trust, and you can have it.  I don’t sell this window often.

Would you like a window into my life?  I also sell doors, but those are more expensive.  There’s no fixed price for these guys, but let’s go for a trial run.  Drinks?  Dinner?  Conversation?  You may not want this window, and it may not want you, but let’s wait and see.  Maybe there’s a spot in your house where it will fit perfectly.

Which window fits your fancy?  Would you like the clear ones with the lifetime warranty, or the foggy ones with a better-but-riskier return on investment?  My name is Brian, and I am a window salesman.  What can I get for you?

I Thought We Would Be Friends Forever

When we were young, I thought we would be friends forever.

We met when we were nine, and we became an instant package.  You were an artist and I was a spelling whiz, but we found solitude in cootie shots and Pen Fifteen jokes.  Our mothers drove us to each other’s houses, and we built a foundation of trust for the future.  You were my closest friend at school, and I thought we would be friends forever.

When we were ten, we teased girls we liked instead of telling them how we felt.  We read about girls who ran cities and tollbooths that took you to faraway lands.  We sang the preamble and learned our helping verbs, and I thought we would be friends forever.

When we were eleven, we moved to a new school and we met new friends.  I tried to be popular and you tried to be yourself.  We got caught up in our own lives, but we still saw each other outside of school, and I thought we would be friends forever.

When we were twelve, we didn’t have classes together and we began to lose touch.  We tried to keep what we had going, but we didn’t try hard enough.  We found time to spend together in playing cards with mythical creatures, but those are just paper and I wasn’t sure how close of friends we had become.

When we were thirteen, we lost touch.  We had been apart for too long, and we didn’t know each other anymore.  If we saw each other in passing, we’d smile and remember past glories, and sometimes we even hung out, but it was not the same.  I thought we would be friends forever, but I wasn’t sure what was in store for us.

When we went to high school, we joined a band together.  We learned instruments we didn’t know how to play, and we produced the worst music ever heard by human ears.  But we were back, and I thought we would be friends forever.

The second half of high school was different.  The band dispersed for better music options, and I didn’t see you in the halls of our massive institution anymore.  I learned you were having personal issues, and I tried to reach out to help, but I didn’t reach out far enough.  We became distant, and I didn’t know where our friendship stood.

When I was a Freshman in college, you were one of the few who remembered my birthday.  I hadn’t spoken to you nearly as much as you needed, but you still called me to wish me a happy one.  We emailed back and forth for a little bit, and I hoped we would be friends forever.

When I came home for the summer, we saw each other a few times, and I helped you run away from a house you were staying at without knowing it.  When I found out, I was upset, but I saw that you needed the companionship and I let it slide.  You were still having trouble and all I could do was see you a few times.  I never thought I was doing enough, but I never knew what else I could do.  I thought maybe I was helping, and we would be friends forever.

When I went back to school, we lost touch again.  I became engrossed in my studies and I barely had time for friends at college, never mind ones back home.  I was a mess trying to achieve two degrees in four years, and you paid part of the price.  We spoke sometimes out of formality and hope that we weren’t done yet, but we didn’t know each other anymore.  When we knew each other, you were an artist and I was a spelling whiz, but now you had nothing to draw and I had a computer with spellcheck.

Now that I’ve graduated college and am living far from our hometown, I’ve settled into my new life without you.  We’ve grown apart, but part of me will always miss the childhood we had together.

When you emailed me the other day, we gave each other life updates and went through the formalities, but it feels different this time.  You are doing better and I like to think I am too.  Maybe we can make something out of it this time.  I used to think we would be friends forever, and it’s nice to see we haven’t given up hope.

We’ve built our friendship in sprints.  Bursts of energy and crazy emotion followed by cool down periods where we stretch our muscles and our hearts.  It’s been a crazy trip so far, and it looks like we’ve begun our latest sprint.  Maybe we will end up running a marathon.

Why Living In The Real World Is Better Than Still Being In School

At the end of my senior year in college, I was terrified.  I had people warning me about this thing called “The Real World,” which was not an outdated television show, but instead this scary abstract idea of the dark beyond that exists after I earned my diploma.  This was the world of bills, rent, full-time work, and building your own furniture to look like everyone else’s.  Up until that moment, it was a distant worry, something I’d have to deal with “one day when I get old,” but as my senior year ended, the end of my life was about to begin.

I’m here to tell you that the Real World is fucking amazing.  Sorry for the spoiler alert, but graduating from college rocks.  There’s no need to sign up for a grad school program that you aren’t sure about in order to prolong your perceived downfall, because your life is about to get a whole lot better.

I think a common misconception about the Real World is that once you walk through its doors, you automatically transform into some sort of old person who goes to bed at 9:00 and eats bowls of steamed vegetables for every meal.  With maybe a plain baked potato every now and then for variety.

The truth is that you don’t really change all that much after you get that diploma.  You’re still pretty much the same bundle of problems with hopes and dreams.  Sure, you get a few more responsibilities now that you’re on your own, but you lose a lot of responsibility as well.

Gone are the books you are mandated to read on subjects with feigned interest.  Gone are the essays and tests and projects and the nights reserved for all previously stated tragedies.  Gone are the hungover mornings spent in the library, huddled over a study guide for a test scheduled later that day.  Gone is the stress and the perpetual sense of urgency that comes with weekly deadlines.  When you are in school, there is always something you should be doing instead of having fun.

The Real World is different.  The Real World offers you a chance to relax.  There are no surprise tests or assignments that you can’t handle.  If you think you experienced freedom like none other during your transition from high school to college, you are about to be pleasantly surprised.  In the Real World, freedom is given out like dumpling samples at the H-Mart.  The only deadlines you have are work-related, and can be confined to the hours of 9AM and 5PM (unless you work one of those insane jobs, then your life is pretty much over in the Real World…but then you might be rich).  Outside of those hours, you are free to plank on mountains and in refrigerators, whatever it is that kids these days are up to.

The point is that you finally have untainted time.  You may pay bills and work long hours, but at the end of the day, you have your own time.  Some people use this time to meet new people, to get drunk 7 days a week, or even to start a blog.  Just the idea of doing whatever I want in my time makes me excited.

I could travel to faraway lands, or use my time to help others.  I could finally write that novel I’ve been dying to get onto paper, or actually read for pleasure.  I could sit in my pajamas all weekend and watch something on my roommate’s Netflix.

You shouldn’t be afraid of the Real World because once you enter it, you are finally free.  The only institution that has you in its grasp ends at 5PM, and you can finally begin to follow your dreams. 

Dream big and wish for more than just steamed vegetables and baked potatoes.

Airports Are Anthologies

On any given day, at any given moment, airports are anthologies.  Each boarding pass, each security scan, and each Auntie Anne’s pretzel have tales to tell.  Long, straight corridors riddled with numbers and letters house suitcases full of stories.  Luggage with baggage.

Countries, continents, cities, and states in transition.  Each with a where and a when.  Some beginning journeys and others carrying souvenirs and empty wallets.  Some have one-time agendas and some are trapped in inescapable ruts.  Everyone is different, and everyone has something to teach.  Take a moment to look, to listen, to learn.

We are all traveling salesmen, sitting in silence, but we will sell you our stories.  Pay us in seconds, in minutes, in hours.  Give us an outlet and pay us with your memories.

Pay us in poems.

Let us exchange feats of greatness, of failures, and of perseverance.  Let us explore each other’s passports and recite each other’s verses.

Or let us sit in silence, speculating suitcases around us.  Let us listen to conversations and observe interactions.  Let our imaginations run wild with each other’s reasons for flight.

Airports are anthologies.  Open your eyes, open your ears, and open the book sitting next to you.  Wake up from your nap and wander around a bit.  You never know what you might find.