From XYZ to ABC

If I had it my way, Plan A would work every time. Things would always pan out the first time round just the way I imagined them. There would be no need for constant readjusting and maneuvering. Perfect timing would clip along just as I predicted and I could sit back and coast on autopilot just enjoying the ride. Unfortunately for me there must be some value in constantly moving on to new plans because I have learned that Plan A rarely works out. Sometimes Plan J turns into the most appealing option, and one can never rule out the merit of scribbling down a Plan Q, R, and S just in case. If you’ve been down this road more than once perhaps you have concluded that simultaneously pursuing multiple plans is the best way to go. I would guess that multitaskers are prone to this strategy. I’m a multitasker at heart and I try to consider all of my options all of the time. A few months ago I decided to try a new plan and last week I had to lay it to rest. The year is rapidly winding down and I feel like I am about to abandon Plans X, Y, and Z and start over again with A, B, and C. At this point I feel like the weeks, months and years are flying by and the only way to cope with the rush is to “go back to the drawing board” and come up with something fantastic.

Searching

Starting over sucks. All of the same questions come back (“What am I doing?” “What should I do instead?” and on and on). Sometimes I catch myself staring in the mirror waiting for the answers to jump out. Instead I am left searching for answers in the depths of my own irises. Besides a splash of four different colors, there isn’t much there. The search for a deeper perspective always renders the same thing – a narrowed reflection of someone very far from deciding who she is. Maybe my eye color is indicative of the problem. I’m split between varied interests that pull me in very different directions. At the core is brown – my preferred way of seeing the world and working my way through it: creatively, artistically, and humorously. Just outside of the brown area is a fine yellow ring that seeks to bridge imagination with practicality. The next layer, green, is the part of me that knows I have to make money somehow, so away with this dreamland stuff. On the very outside is a curious blue rim. It isn’t the crystal clear blue that some people are blessed with. Instead it’s a hazy, “How do I get there?” blue. It is the blue of quickly fading twilight. What I wouldn’t give for high noon blue instead.

Bridging the Gap

What I want more than anything is to find a way to permanently meld creativity and practicality. We’ve all heard the expression “starving artist.” While I admire those brave enough to abandon corporate jobs and pursue artistic careers, I can’t imagine I’ll ever do it. I prioritize the stability and assurance of a steady job but sometimes all that structure can create a stifling scaffold around the creative part of my mind. My fate may have been determined years ago – I was too wound up in junior college to ever take a drawing, painting or creative writing class even though I was dying to. (Since I had to take remedial math credits along with transfer requirements for three different universities, there was simply no time to fit in three elective credits during any of my semesters.) I’m happy with the work I completed and I’m proud of the degree I earned but sometimes I look back at college missed and wish I had just taken it a little slower. I know there’s no use in looking back. My life has rapidly moved on (have I already been out of school for 3 years?!) and bigger and better things have come along. I’m just trying to figure out if good things are happening by coincidence or if I’m actually doing something right.

Here We Go

In the end, the only choice is to go back to the beginning. I don’t have to start over from scratch, I just have to take into account all of the stuff I’ve learned and keep trucking along. While it stinks to let go of X, Y, and Z, I know that it’s the right thing to do. A, B, and C aren’t going to guarantee success but I can be happy with progress. I’m exhausted from another year of trying to figure out my life and I welcome prospect of a restful holiday break. For now I just hope the wheels stop turning long enough to give me a good night’s sleep. At least my dreams allow me to bridge the gap – I can drift off to whatever unpredictable scenario my mind has in store while getting something practical done at the same time. Now if I could just find a way to be paid to sleep…

Running Home

This morning I was feeling really good about life. I completed a good number of errands on Wednesday night and I felt like I was almost completely ready for a weekend trip home to California. I decided to leave my suitcase in my room and then pick it up at lunchtime in case I remembered anything I had forgotten at home. I was on a tight schedule because I needed to leave work and head straight to the airport at 5:30 pm in time for my 7:30 pm flight.

Around 11:30 am I picked up the phone and ordered lunch at a restaurant across the street from my apartment. My plan to kill two birds with one stone was working out great. The weather was perfect and sunshine was streaming in through my car windows. I was even feeling rather patient with my fellow drivers. I decided to wait for an oncoming car to pass me before turning left into my apartment complex. As I waited in the two-way turn lane I saw a white object from the corner of my eye. A cat was running from the right side of the road toward my apartment complex on the left side of the road. I immediately recognized it as a very friendly cat who occasionally roams our parking garage. In the same moment I recognized him I noticed that he was sprinting to stay out of the way of a car that was slowing down for him. I posed no threat to him since I was stopped in the middle of the road. My eyes followed his intended path and I realized he was on a collision course with the oncoming BMW coupe. I knew what I was about to see and I had a choice: wave my hands desperately in an effort to get the BMW to stop or hold my hands in front of my eyes. I chose the latter.

I heard the car approaching (it appeared to be traveling at the 50 mph speed limit) and then a tiny thud. Filled with dread I opened my eyes and looked left but didn't see anything. For a moment I thought the cat had made it. Then I turned and looked behind me and saw the poor creature lying still in the road. The BMW was long gone.

I hurriedly pulled into my complex's parking lot and got out of the car. I didn't know what to do next. I remembered a story that someone told me about seeing a dead deer in the canyon getting run over repeatedly. He pulled over and dragged the animal to the side of the road. I knew that was the right thing to do in this situation. This was someone's pet and it wasn't right to leave it out in the road to be desecrated. I cautiously walked into the lane of traffic and approached the cat. His fluffy white fur was rippling in the breeze. I didn't have the slightest idea how to handle the poor thing. When I reached down and touched his back he let out a tiny meow. It was a small sound but it keeps ringing through my head. His eyes were open and the beautiful blue sky reflected in them. I realized he was still breathing and I wondered if there was still some way to save him. Then he stopped moving. I touched him again, wishing he could come back. He didn't.

I glanced toward the oncoming traffic and knew I still had a few seconds before the cars got too close for comfort. I put one hand under the cat's back and one under his front legs and was scared to reach around his body and feel blood, but there was none. I picked him up and he was so limp. I knew that all of the oncoming cars could see me and I couldn't help but lose my composure right there in the middle of the lane. I felt so guilty. I could have tried to get the driver's attention but here was this poor little cat dead in my hands. I might as well take the blame.

By the time I set foot in the parking lot I was sobbing. I placed the cat on the lawn in the shade of a tree. Part of me still wondered if any part of him was alive or aware of this. Only a few short minutes ago he was running in the sunshine dodging cars on his way home. How can life be stopped so suddenly? Only a few short minutes ago I was daydreaming of flying home to California to celebrate birthdays and my dad's upcoming retirement. It is amazing how quickly we can be brought right back to the ground. I couldn't help but try to comfort the empty vessel. I kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Then I would just cry louder. There was no room to feel embarrassed but I also had very little capacity to think rationally. I needed help. There was an HVAC worker in the parking lot but he just ignored me. He literally pretended he had no idea I was there. That just made me more upset.

I only had a few minutes before I had to be on my way back to work in time for a 12:30 meeting. I knocked on several doors but no one knew anything about the cat or its owners. I heard footsteps down another path and I hurried toward the sound. I recognized a friend from my ward and told her what happened. She agreed to look up someone (maybe Animal Control?) to come and get the cat. She said she'd also post a note on the door of the apartment where the cat lived. I am so grateful she was walking around the complex right when I needed her. I don't know what I would have done without her.

Now, 13 hours after the incident, I am home. I'm sitting in the house I lived in until I was 19. While I am safe, comfortable and warm I cannot forget how delicate life is. I would love to think I've built up an invincible wall of protection around myself, but it is really just an illusion. We can be called away from this mortal existence at any moment. Today taught me that if I had to go home in an instant, I would hope it is on a day full of sunshine and promise. I would want to feel the wind running through my hair as I sprinted toward the finish. I would hope that death came on swift heels and I that I had time to glance at the sky one last time before heading home to my maker. More than anything, I hope that someone would watch over me with sympathy and love in their heart as I slipped over to the other side.

Today I lost a little friend in this world and I hope that he is happy wherever he is. There is a small comfort in knowing that he will never again feel the pang of hunger of the shiver of a cold winter night. If his owners are missing him, I hope their hearts heal soon. More than anything, I hope he made it home.