The Faith in One Spot

So many people all over the world. So few in Gainesville. Somewhere...a violin stirs a sad melody for me.

No, no...I'm really not sad. I probably would be if it weren't for my job, though. The feeling of endless possibilities has never been more tangible for me. The opportunity for growth, the ability to explode into something so much bigger seems just around the corner. And with everyday, especially this week, that feeling grows more intense.

Equally intense is my desire for travel. To Europe. To China. To Japan. Even to Philly. Okay, really just to Europe, Rome in particular, but Vienna, Zurich, Berlin, Dublin, and Ischia wouldn't be too shabby either. My italian hasn't faded in recent weeks, despite being out of school, thanks to the awesome musical stylings of the Modena City Ramblers.

I still think about teaching and research. My last task at work, to write a wikipedia entry, was of course way more fun for me than most people, proving that I still have a research streak somewhere inside of me. Though, I would quickly admit that it wasn't anywhere near as fun as working with my band of interns or building fantasy offices in my head with Erica and Bec. (A slide? Perhaps. A trampoline? Definitely.)

So, I still have this feeling of a pact with time. I'm not sure I believe in it quite as strongly as I used to. I mean, when the earth is exploding and people are dying and everything seems to be collapsing quicker than expected, I'm all about the "do the best you can, but do it quickly" mindset. I don't want to wait to long before I'm back at the hotel Arenula or the Pantheon or San Ignazio or La Galleria Borghese...it's all just one earthquake, one cosmic sneeze, away from oblivion. And I want to enjoy before the universe catches the cold that does away with it all.

So, it's a weird, determined optimism I've got now. I still have faith in just staying put for now, like I've always had. Only now I'm not 16. Now I'm 22. And I'm trying not to speed things up.

Travels in the unknown forests

Being on this crazy journey, this pathless path of which I've spoken so often, has jarred me in funny ways. For so long did I imagine what I looked like I would be, when I grew up--a detached physicist, whiling away my time at chalkboards with obscure equations and a dusty jacket. Or perhaps a ponderous philosopher/historian, pacing in front of a class of students at some private liberal arts college, expounding my ideas about civilization and the currents of history. I'm sure there were a dozen other profiles of my future all laid out in my head, just waiting for me to fulfill.

What is so odd, now, is that I've shifted my perspective, not from imagining what I would look like doing something, but focusing on what I actually am good at. The shift didn't truly hit me, until I realized what I am now: a sales manager at an intrepid start-up company, strategizing and bantering with my determined crew of interns, brainstorming and learning from experienced, insightful businesspeople.

It was never what I imagined, and because I hadn't visualized the whole scene from the outside, seeing myself on Bec's video camera a few days ago as "the face of Perth Leadership's intern program" was subtly unsettling. Who was I? When did I take on this role? How did I get here?

So often we are told that people who cannot see the forest through the trees don't have the big picture. And I totally agree. Yet, I think I had the opposite problem. I was imagining the forest I thought I wanted to be in, ignoring the path and surrounding environments. And I became disillusioned as I realized that the path through the "professorial" forest was not at all apealling to me. I started to force myself to look at my own traits, to understand which trees I'd like being around and which forest path would be natural for me to walk. And now here I am, in a completely different forest, but in the same college town. And truly loving what I'm doing.

As it turns out, getting yourself lost in unknown forests can instill a pretty deep sense of direction.