When the Moment Comes . . . .

When the moment comes and the situation arises . . . .
do you wait for yourself to finish processing all the pros and cons that accompany the decision before you act?
do you jump before you can see the landing pad?
do you think about today or tomorrow?

Something Fabulous

Facebook has this feature where a person can write little notes to other people anonymously through what they call an "Honesty Box."

Anyways, someone -- a guy, actually -- left me a note. A really sweet little note.

And I'm really, genuinely, completely flattered, but I have no idea who left it. (Well, I might have some idea . . . . )

Anywho -- it made my night.

If you wrote it, thanks so much and just ask me out for coffee or something, you dork. ;)

Somebody I Want to Call

There's somebody I want to call, but I'm hesitant, and I'm hesitant for all the wrong reasons.

There's a fellow I know who, at his grad party, I suggested that we get together at some point during the summer to discuss Atlas Shrugged, a book we're both reading, simply because I've gotten the impression from other people that it's the sort of book that is more fun to talk about than it is to read.

And now, I'm wimping out, even though he totally asked for my number.

Childhood's Over

A few weeks ago, my parents, after much "thinking," decided to put our lake cabin up for sale. We expected to receive very few substantial bids, and in our minds, August 1st or so would be the closing date.

Well, they were wrong. The first people to see the cabin decided they wanted to purchase it and placed a good bid. My parents countered, and the buyers countered back with a competitive bid with the contingency that my family would close within weeks.

We're closing Friday.

Anyways, this weekend was our last weekend at the place, and as I left this morning, I couldn't help but feel like my childhood has abruptly drawn to a close. I haven't felt like a "child" in any true sense for years, but within the past week, I've spoken at commencement, received my diploma, said good-bye for the summer to two close friends who took on positions as camp councellors, and just this weekend, I said good-bye to a boat, two jet skiis, and a house that have marked my summers.

We'd bought our boat used when I was in elementary school, we'd bought the cabin when I was in middle school, and we'd had the jet skiis for just two years, but these items have cumulatively been the backdrop for so many of my childhood memories.

It was behind that boat that I became the adept tuber I am today. I learned how to kneeboard and water ski with that boat. I've jumped off the back of it hundreds of times. I've read many books while laying aboard it.

And the cabin . . . when you're at the cabin, you both wash the dishes and run around all day in our swimsuit. I say that meaning that no one is fully an adult there because you're part of a cooperative effort to make sure the place doesn't fall apart, but you're also apart of a collaboration to see who can get the darkest tan, tube the wildest, swim the hardest, etc.

And the two jet skiis . . . they've been my retreat during the past few summers when I've been all-too-anxious to leave the immediate vicinity of my family during our isolated stays at the lake. I've felt alive on them as I exceeded speeds of 50 miles an hour traveling across the lake. In short . . . we've bonded. ;)

Anyways, these things have marked my life, and now they're gone.

Within one week, I have received both the written and unwritten proof that life is in fact moving on. Here I am, standing at a crossroads, and while the moment is one I've anticipated for years, it nonetheless feels abrupt.

Positive Karma

Shortly after 3 PM today, I found myself on 17th headed west (bad idea) as I was driving a friend home, and of course, it was a zoo, but that's typical. The traffic was stop-and-go, and we were just chatting while listening to the radio.

All of a sudden, I heard a loud CRUNCH.

"Did we just get hit?" I asked my bud as I parked the vehicle I was driving so I could get a better idea of what had just happened. The SUV behind us had been rearended by a small car and the resulting scene was two drivers being incredibly rude to each other while my buddy tried to mitigate as I dialed 911 to explain the situation.

Anyways, the point of this story is that I felt really good about myself when the whole ordeal was done. I'd stepped out of a normal person's comfort zone to help some others when they needed it in a crisis, and . . . like I said, I felt good about myself.