Well, not really, but almost. One more day in Houston, one more day of work insanity, and then hopefully home for the next three weeks. This week has been one of the busiest I can remember in a long, long time - maybe since trial last year. Tomorrow promises to be the same at least until lunchtime, but at least there is an end in sight.
What's that? Running? Um yeah, whatever. When I travel I tend to fall off the wagon big time on the exercise front, and that's exactly what happened. I've run one time in the last week and a half, but that's just the way it is. So, we'll pick up the schedule when I get back home this weekend, repeat a week or two, and march forward. I may not make the LR marathon, but I can still fit something in this spring. Maybe the LR Half will be a training run for something a little later.
Tonight I'm having dinner with a good friend who I haven't seen in a while (yay!), and we're thinking sushi and vino. After today? That sounds magnificent.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Meanderings
Saturday night, I drove down to Clear Lake to hear my friend's band play. The drive south from downtown took about 45 minutes, and threw me down memory lane a little bit. This little 'burb south of Houston (think NASA) was home for the first year that J and I were married. I had never lived anywhere except Arkansas when we moved, so I wasn't quite ready for the seasons that exist near the coast. Or maybe I should say I wasn't ready for the lack of seasons, because really, there are only two seasons down here - Season #1, Hot, and Season #2, Rainy. I suppose if you get Hot and Rainy at the same time, you get Season #3, Nasty...
We first moved down to Clear Lake in the summer of 1998, and it really wasn't that bad; it just seemed to rain a lot and occasionally it felt like we needed gills to breathe. See Season #3, above. But eventually the season turned and we encountered our first Houston "winter." I kind of choke on that word a little - I'm not sure you can legitimately call it winter. The warm humid air coming off the coast ensured that my definition of winter was drastically and immediately altered that year. The regular appearance of short sleeved shirts and shorts seemed bizarre amidst rows of Christmas trees, and the contrast between occasional 80 degree weather and Christmas lights was a discordant jangle. Simply put, it felt surreal. During that first December, I listened to Christmas music almost obsessively, trying to convince myself that it really was time for the holidays. I missed my winters.
As I meandered through the wide divided streets Saturday night, passing lawns that were still lush and trees with plenty of green leaves, I opened my windows to the evening air. It was easy to forget that it was a December night, and after reacclimating to the colder Arkansas winters, the warm weather was comforting. The smells coming through the open windows were familiar. The earthy fragrance of pine needles combined with the sticky dampness of ocean air were strong reminders of life in my early 20s, that first December in Texas, and those first few years post-college when life's path was much more of a question mark than it is these days.
Every now and then, life tosses up a type of portal that takes you back in time and reminds you of one of the many former versions of yourself. Saturday night I found one of those portals, and for a little while, the 23-year-old version of me seemed almost approachable. It was a bit like visiting with an old friend with whom you've lost touch. Even though we don't have a lot in common anymore, there was still enough familiar ground that we were able to shake hands, reflect for a moment, wish each other the best, and move on. While there are aspects of that time in my life that I miss - the freedom that I didn't quite realize was there, the drive, the excitement about the paths yet untaken, just to name a few - I'm pretty content with the paths that were taken. It was still nice to drive down those streets again for just a little while, remembering the twists and turns that were required to create the current, updated version.
We first moved down to Clear Lake in the summer of 1998, and it really wasn't that bad; it just seemed to rain a lot and occasionally it felt like we needed gills to breathe. See Season #3, above. But eventually the season turned and we encountered our first Houston "winter." I kind of choke on that word a little - I'm not sure you can legitimately call it winter. The warm humid air coming off the coast ensured that my definition of winter was drastically and immediately altered that year. The regular appearance of short sleeved shirts and shorts seemed bizarre amidst rows of Christmas trees, and the contrast between occasional 80 degree weather and Christmas lights was a discordant jangle. Simply put, it felt surreal. During that first December, I listened to Christmas music almost obsessively, trying to convince myself that it really was time for the holidays. I missed my winters.
As I meandered through the wide divided streets Saturday night, passing lawns that were still lush and trees with plenty of green leaves, I opened my windows to the evening air. It was easy to forget that it was a December night, and after reacclimating to the colder Arkansas winters, the warm weather was comforting. The smells coming through the open windows were familiar. The earthy fragrance of pine needles combined with the sticky dampness of ocean air were strong reminders of life in my early 20s, that first December in Texas, and those first few years post-college when life's path was much more of a question mark than it is these days.
Every now and then, life tosses up a type of portal that takes you back in time and reminds you of one of the many former versions of yourself. Saturday night I found one of those portals, and for a little while, the 23-year-old version of me seemed almost approachable. It was a bit like visiting with an old friend with whom you've lost touch. Even though we don't have a lot in common anymore, there was still enough familiar ground that we were able to shake hands, reflect for a moment, wish each other the best, and move on. While there are aspects of that time in my life that I miss - the freedom that I didn't quite realize was there, the drive, the excitement about the paths yet untaken, just to name a few - I'm pretty content with the paths that were taken. It was still nice to drive down those streets again for just a little while, remembering the twists and turns that were required to create the current, updated version.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Early Night
Note to self: when you go to bed at 8:30, your body will likely think you are just taking a nap, because really - who goes to sleep at 8:30? When you wake up around 11, going back to sleep will not be an option.
Monday, December 6, 2010
On Taking Risks
Take risks: if you win, you will be happy; if you lose, you will be wise.
- Anonymous
It is only by risking ... that we live at all.
- William James
I've spent some time lately thinking about risks we encounter in life. Something I read recently has me pondering whether taking risks in life leads inevitably to pain. In other words, if you decide to take a certain risk (pick a risk, any risk), is it inevitable that you will experience some amount of pain, even if you achieve whatever goal you set or have a positive outcome to the risk you take? This is sort of a vague wondering right now, and I'm having a bit of trouble narrowing it down more, but let's give it a shot.
I guess maybe you have to start by challenging the assumption that pain is something that is bad, or something you try to avoid. I'm not suggesting masochism by any means here, but I think you also have to look at pain as something that is not 100% bad. The situations in my life that have caused significant pain have also brought experience, learning, and perspective that I wouldn't trade for anything. So even though taking a risk may bring about pain, I'm not sure that's an absolute bad thing. Not that I think it's worth actively seeking pain for that purpose, or recklessly taking risks - that's a bit counterproductive. And there's also the idea that we need the presence of pain in our lives to understand and feel pleasure. Without one, I don't think the other can exist, or at least, not in any appreciable form.
But back to whether taking risks definitely leads to pain. My first impulse was to answer yes and be done with it. I do think taking risks - no matter how successfully - typically does bring some pain in one form or another. Taking a risk usually involves some sort of change in your life; you are stepping out of your comfort zone and stretching yourself in an unaccustomed way. Even if you are successful in whatever you are risking, something else is likely changed, left behind, or neglected.
One fairly simple example I was thinking about this weekend was watching the bands playing Saturday night. None of the groups were required to be up there playing; no one was being paid and no one was forcing them to play. They all enjoy it and are willing participants. But even that is a risk, isn't it? You run the risk of messing up on stage, forgetting the music, not living up to your potential, people not liking your songs, etc. Even if you are perfect on stage, though, chances are that those folks are taking time away from something else - maybe time with their family, time participating in other hobbies, or even work. And you have to think that restriction in time is going to bring about some element of pain, even if it is more bothersome than debilitating - that seems true of most decisions we make. Most risks we take in our lives result in a level of discomfort that is pesky and annoying rather than mind blowing. Chances are, each of the musicians that played Saturday night has determined that whatever risk they might be taking with their music is more than worth the joy and pleasure they get from the experience.
After mulling it over a bit, I think I understand how I, at least, approach risk these days. My take on it is, if you look at the risk you are considering taking, and you think it through - really think it through, then you go into the situation with your eyes open. You know what the stakes are, you know not only what the positive and negative outcomes are, but also the absolute best, and more importantly, worst case scenarios. Before you jump, you understand what is at stake and if you still jump, then you've essentially made a deal with yourself that you accept the consequences. Now, that doesn't necessarily mean you won't feel pain, assuming some comes along with it. But I think it helps to mitigate it a little, and hopefully makes it easier to come to terms with and understand.
Over the last several months, I've been trying to become more aware of the risks that are present in my life, and I've been trying to step out of my comfort zone a little more often. Not crazy risks, not life changing ones, just little ones here and there that I normally wouldn't take. For a long time, I've felt stagnant, and I needed something to help me break out of the comfortable bubble I found myself in. Because, really, it wasn't all that comfortable - it was stifling and suffocating. It was time for a change, and that meant taking some risks (such as this blog - that felt like a huge risk for me). I suppose that's why I've been considering this topic - because if you believe that risk taking leads invariably to pain, then I guess that's what you open yourself up to when you decide to take a few more risks in your life.
- Anonymous
It is only by risking ... that we live at all.
- William James
I've spent some time lately thinking about risks we encounter in life. Something I read recently has me pondering whether taking risks in life leads inevitably to pain. In other words, if you decide to take a certain risk (pick a risk, any risk), is it inevitable that you will experience some amount of pain, even if you achieve whatever goal you set or have a positive outcome to the risk you take? This is sort of a vague wondering right now, and I'm having a bit of trouble narrowing it down more, but let's give it a shot.
I guess maybe you have to start by challenging the assumption that pain is something that is bad, or something you try to avoid. I'm not suggesting masochism by any means here, but I think you also have to look at pain as something that is not 100% bad. The situations in my life that have caused significant pain have also brought experience, learning, and perspective that I wouldn't trade for anything. So even though taking a risk may bring about pain, I'm not sure that's an absolute bad thing. Not that I think it's worth actively seeking pain for that purpose, or recklessly taking risks - that's a bit counterproductive. And there's also the idea that we need the presence of pain in our lives to understand and feel pleasure. Without one, I don't think the other can exist, or at least, not in any appreciable form.
But back to whether taking risks definitely leads to pain. My first impulse was to answer yes and be done with it. I do think taking risks - no matter how successfully - typically does bring some pain in one form or another. Taking a risk usually involves some sort of change in your life; you are stepping out of your comfort zone and stretching yourself in an unaccustomed way. Even if you are successful in whatever you are risking, something else is likely changed, left behind, or neglected.
One fairly simple example I was thinking about this weekend was watching the bands playing Saturday night. None of the groups were required to be up there playing; no one was being paid and no one was forcing them to play. They all enjoy it and are willing participants. But even that is a risk, isn't it? You run the risk of messing up on stage, forgetting the music, not living up to your potential, people not liking your songs, etc. Even if you are perfect on stage, though, chances are that those folks are taking time away from something else - maybe time with their family, time participating in other hobbies, or even work. And you have to think that restriction in time is going to bring about some element of pain, even if it is more bothersome than debilitating - that seems true of most decisions we make. Most risks we take in our lives result in a level of discomfort that is pesky and annoying rather than mind blowing. Chances are, each of the musicians that played Saturday night has determined that whatever risk they might be taking with their music is more than worth the joy and pleasure they get from the experience.
After mulling it over a bit, I think I understand how I, at least, approach risk these days. My take on it is, if you look at the risk you are considering taking, and you think it through - really think it through, then you go into the situation with your eyes open. You know what the stakes are, you know not only what the positive and negative outcomes are, but also the absolute best, and more importantly, worst case scenarios. Before you jump, you understand what is at stake and if you still jump, then you've essentially made a deal with yourself that you accept the consequences. Now, that doesn't necessarily mean you won't feel pain, assuming some comes along with it. But I think it helps to mitigate it a little, and hopefully makes it easier to come to terms with and understand.
Over the last several months, I've been trying to become more aware of the risks that are present in my life, and I've been trying to step out of my comfort zone a little more often. Not crazy risks, not life changing ones, just little ones here and there that I normally wouldn't take. For a long time, I've felt stagnant, and I needed something to help me break out of the comfortable bubble I found myself in. Because, really, it wasn't all that comfortable - it was stifling and suffocating. It was time for a change, and that meant taking some risks (such as this blog - that felt like a huge risk for me). I suppose that's why I've been considering this topic - because if you believe that risk taking leads invariably to pain, then I guess that's what you open yourself up to when you decide to take a few more risks in your life.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Well...
So let's see. It's Sunday night, the weekend is already almost over, and I didn't even come close to getting everything done that I wanted to. I never got my 10 miler in, which makes a potential LR marathon a lot less likely. There are other marathons around that time of the year next year, so I may just shift my training a little and try to pick up a race a few weeks later. I'm probably trying to ramp up too quickly anyway.
Yesterday involved more time at work than expected (although I guess I always sort of expect that), so it was too late to get my run in and get to where I was supposed to be last night on time. Not to mention that Houston is so damn big that it took me 45 minutes to get from downtown to Clear Lake, which is where my friend's band was performing.
The party was a lot of fun, and the bands were a blast - I forget how much fun it is to watch live music. I love being close enough to watch fingers fly over strings and drumsticks cut through the air - drummers in particular amaze me, which is what my friend is. I love watching the complexity of the beats, the tight coordination of limbs, and the sheer energy that is required for the drums. It was the first time I'd gotten to watch him play, and it just fascinates me. It's one of those instruments that I don't really ever seen myself learning to play (unless one of my kiddos decides to give it a try - guess I should watch what I wish for there...), and watching someone else is completely mesmerizing.
All of the musicians were late twenties to late thirties, which meant they typically had responsibilities, careers, families, time constraints, and all the stuff that comes with this phase of life. All of them also had a passion for music, and you could see it in their faces as they played - they were enjoying the hell out of it. It made me wonder how many bands like this there are, how many houses, garages, and warehouses had a similar thing going on last night, where for a few hours, you let 'real life' slip away and lose yourself in something you love, both musicians and audience.
It really was a fantastic night, although true to form I managed to enjoy myself a bit too much and pretty much blew today out of the water for anything productive, including my much-needed run. Knowing me, it won't be the last time that happens...
I've got a few more substantive posts rattling around, but they are slow in coming together. Hopefully later this week I'll manage something that is a bit more thought provoking than a daily calendar of what's going on around here. But right now I'm just procrastinating. Off to get some work done so tomorrow won't kick me in the ass any harder than it's already going to.
Yesterday involved more time at work than expected (although I guess I always sort of expect that), so it was too late to get my run in and get to where I was supposed to be last night on time. Not to mention that Houston is so damn big that it took me 45 minutes to get from downtown to Clear Lake, which is where my friend's band was performing.
The party was a lot of fun, and the bands were a blast - I forget how much fun it is to watch live music. I love being close enough to watch fingers fly over strings and drumsticks cut through the air - drummers in particular amaze me, which is what my friend is. I love watching the complexity of the beats, the tight coordination of limbs, and the sheer energy that is required for the drums. It was the first time I'd gotten to watch him play, and it just fascinates me. It's one of those instruments that I don't really ever seen myself learning to play (unless one of my kiddos decides to give it a try - guess I should watch what I wish for there...), and watching someone else is completely mesmerizing.
All of the musicians were late twenties to late thirties, which meant they typically had responsibilities, careers, families, time constraints, and all the stuff that comes with this phase of life. All of them also had a passion for music, and you could see it in their faces as they played - they were enjoying the hell out of it. It made me wonder how many bands like this there are, how many houses, garages, and warehouses had a similar thing going on last night, where for a few hours, you let 'real life' slip away and lose yourself in something you love, both musicians and audience.
It really was a fantastic night, although true to form I managed to enjoy myself a bit too much and pretty much blew today out of the water for anything productive, including my much-needed run. Knowing me, it won't be the last time that happens...
I've got a few more substantive posts rattling around, but they are slow in coming together. Hopefully later this week I'll manage something that is a bit more thought provoking than a daily calendar of what's going on around here. But right now I'm just procrastinating. Off to get some work done so tomorrow won't kick me in the ass any harder than it's already going to.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Yummy
Chick-Fil-A chicken minis, diet Coke, and a Nestle Crunch bar for breakfast. It's a good thing I don't work too many weekends...
Working Weekend
I ended up having to work down in Houston this weekend, which means it is a weekend away from the fam. It's a very strange feeling to wake up on a Saturday without hearing little feet and loud voices running up and down the hall. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself...
At any rate, here's the weekend as it is shaping up so far:
At any rate, here's the weekend as it is shaping up so far:
- Work today until mid afternoon.
- Hopefully get in my 10 mile run at Memorial Park this afternoon. It's supposed to be 80 here by the afternoon - ick.
- Head to a party tonight with a friend I know from our time down in Houston, although he is originally from Arkansas. His band is playing at a party and I've been wanting to hear them play, so the stars finally aligned.
- Sleep.
- Sunday? I have no idea. If I'm smart, it won't involve a headache, but I never claim to be all that smart.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Whirlwind Running
Yesterday was completely frantic. Work was crazed from the moment I got in the door, our office Christmas party was scheduled for last night at 7, and I also wanted to get in a run since I missed my 5-miler on Tuesday. I decided that if I left the office slightly before 5, I could get in a quick run and still make it to the party around 7. I might be a little ripe, but hey - at least I would be there, right? Besides, the party was at a bowling alley, so it wasn't terribly formal. It was a fancy shmancy bowling alley, true, but still - a bowling alley.
So I finished up the last of what I needed to do around 4:45 and sprinted out the office door, fought the elevator lines, parking garage lines, and traffic to make it to Memorial Park before it got too dark to run. While Memorial Park is a great place to run during the day, it's not known to be the smartest place for someone my gender (and terrifying size - hah!) to run by yourself after dark. After the frantic day, the effort to get out of the office and over to MP while it was still light out just added to the stress and edginess I was already feeling. I was a bundle of nerves when I finally got there.
By the time I changed, geared up, and finally hit the trail, the sun had set and I figured I'd be able to just eek out one three mile loop around the park before it got too dark. I carried the adrenaline and stress and rush of the day with me as I started the run, and the first mile ended up being wayyyy too fast (well, it's all relative - I'm not sure you can really call any of my running truly fast!). I could feel the tenseness in my muscles, and the fast pace / stressed out combo is a great way to pick up an injury. So I tried to slow down for the second mile, although that was kind of tough because the entire second mile is next to the three lanes of traffic on Memorial - and last night it was Memorial at rush hour. Not exactly a peaceful or quiet run; you just want to get that part over with as quickly as you can, 'cause those cars are less than 10 feet from you. But by the third mile, which is much quieter and more serene, I finally settled into a rhythm and was feeling some of stress and tightness start to bleed off.
I finished the third mile of the loop and wasn't ready to stop, although it was definitely dark. My body still had energy and wanted to run, and my mind needed the endorphins. I had noticed that the last mile of the loop was well lit and still fairly populated, so I decided to do an out and back to get to a five mile total.
That was easily the best decision I made all day.
The last two miles reminded me of why I run. My mind finally quit racing and found some quiet and stability, my muscles relaxed into a more soothing rhythm, and I felt the last of the day's craziness disappear behind me on the dim trail. Blissfully cathartic is the best description I can think of for that run.
Until a couple of years ago, my main athletic activities were tennis and softball. Someone commented one time that I must have a lot of aggression to get rid of, because my sports all involve hitting the hell out of something. I have to agree - there is something very satisfying about hitting the crap out of a ball, especially after a bad day. So when I started running, I didn't see how it could ever be as great a therapy as either my softball or my tennis. But then I had a couple of runs similar to the one I had last night, and I realized that the release I need doesn't have to come from hitting the crap out of a ball (although I still really enjoy that!). Something about the rhythm of a great run, the relaxing muscles and mental peace that come with it, the physical exhaustion and satisfaction from the distance covered, the post-run quiet energy - well, it's definitely different from a great tennis match, but it's just as effective at keeping me sane. And really? That's all that matters.
So I finished up the last of what I needed to do around 4:45 and sprinted out the office door, fought the elevator lines, parking garage lines, and traffic to make it to Memorial Park before it got too dark to run. While Memorial Park is a great place to run during the day, it's not known to be the smartest place for someone my gender (and terrifying size - hah!) to run by yourself after dark. After the frantic day, the effort to get out of the office and over to MP while it was still light out just added to the stress and edginess I was already feeling. I was a bundle of nerves when I finally got there.
By the time I changed, geared up, and finally hit the trail, the sun had set and I figured I'd be able to just eek out one three mile loop around the park before it got too dark. I carried the adrenaline and stress and rush of the day with me as I started the run, and the first mile ended up being wayyyy too fast (well, it's all relative - I'm not sure you can really call any of my running truly fast!). I could feel the tenseness in my muscles, and the fast pace / stressed out combo is a great way to pick up an injury. So I tried to slow down for the second mile, although that was kind of tough because the entire second mile is next to the three lanes of traffic on Memorial - and last night it was Memorial at rush hour. Not exactly a peaceful or quiet run; you just want to get that part over with as quickly as you can, 'cause those cars are less than 10 feet from you. But by the third mile, which is much quieter and more serene, I finally settled into a rhythm and was feeling some of stress and tightness start to bleed off.
I finished the third mile of the loop and wasn't ready to stop, although it was definitely dark. My body still had energy and wanted to run, and my mind needed the endorphins. I had noticed that the last mile of the loop was well lit and still fairly populated, so I decided to do an out and back to get to a five mile total.
That was easily the best decision I made all day.
The last two miles reminded me of why I run. My mind finally quit racing and found some quiet and stability, my muscles relaxed into a more soothing rhythm, and I felt the last of the day's craziness disappear behind me on the dim trail. Blissfully cathartic is the best description I can think of for that run.
Until a couple of years ago, my main athletic activities were tennis and softball. Someone commented one time that I must have a lot of aggression to get rid of, because my sports all involve hitting the hell out of something. I have to agree - there is something very satisfying about hitting the crap out of a ball, especially after a bad day. So when I started running, I didn't see how it could ever be as great a therapy as either my softball or my tennis. But then I had a couple of runs similar to the one I had last night, and I realized that the release I need doesn't have to come from hitting the crap out of a ball (although I still really enjoy that!). Something about the rhythm of a great run, the relaxing muscles and mental peace that come with it, the physical exhaustion and satisfaction from the distance covered, the post-run quiet energy - well, it's definitely different from a great tennis match, but it's just as effective at keeping me sane. And really? That's all that matters.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Madness...Sheer Madness
Last night while J and I were talking on the phone:
J: So, the Nerf guns I ordered for the kiddos' Christmas presents came today.
Me: Great, we can add those to the rest of the stuff we're hiding.
J: And ... I got us one, too.
Me: Seriously? As in, one for you and me?
J: Yeah. And even better - ours is bigger than theirs.
I'm not sure there is even a response to that statement.
J: So, the Nerf guns I ordered for the kiddos' Christmas presents came today.
Me: Great, we can add those to the rest of the stuff we're hiding.
J: And ... I got us one, too.
Me: Seriously? As in, one for you and me?
J: Yeah. And even better - ours is bigger than theirs.
I'm not sure there is even a response to that statement.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Discovery
I made the now-familiar drive from Little Rock to Houston last night. Although I was dreading it when I left town yesterday afternoon, it turned out to be one of the more enjoyable drives I've had in a while. The weather was clear, the stars were beautiful and bright, and my mind was easy and engaged (as opposed to restlessly spinning, hamster wheel style).
Somewhere south on Highway 59, going through one of those little east Texas towns that are deserted after 8pm, I remembered the Leonard Cohen music I downloaded a few days ago. My impression from the few snippets I listened to was that he might be a little mellow. I was a bit concerned about that, because it was getting late, it was dark, and I really didn't want someone singing me a lullaby. That's not typically a good combination for the flip side of a long drive. Fortunately, I couldn't have been more incorrect in my assumption about his music. I started his "Live in London" CDs and listened to his songs for the next hour and a half. As I pulled into the driveway of my friends' house around 11:30 last night, I reluctantly turned the music off.
The music is fairly simple in how it is written; it doesn't feel all that complex, although I could be embarrassingly wrong. But the instruments often sing their own songs, and the lyrics create so much imagery that the songs hold your attention, even if your mind tries to wander. The rhythms are sometimes unusual, sometimes playful, and feel like a mix of blues and waltz at times. I'm woefully inadequate at describing the technical components of music, so I'll leave it at that.
Instead, I'll just say how exciting it feels to discover someone new (well, new to me - he's been around awhile). I found myself grinning like an idiot in the dark car because I enjoyed the wordplay of the lyrics so, so much. It's the kind of thing you do if you are two or three glasses into a bottle of wine - you enjoy the hell out of some new trinket that you just discovered, but when you later sober up you realize it really wasn't all that great. Last night, though, I promise I was sober - I was driving, remember? And it really was all that great.
I woke up with the song "Hallelujah" going through my head this morning. Even though I was going on too little sleep (see: caffeine + late hours + long drive), it was a comforting way to wake up, and a reminder that I still have more new songs to listen to today. It also reminds me that I should be a bit more alert to breaking out of my bubble and looking for things that are new to me when they present themselves - the universe isn't always going to kick me in the ass several times. Duly noted.
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