MAX Musings.
January 21st, 2011 - "L'amore e cieco."
On the way home from a particularly rough day at work, I was trying to keep myself from dozing off on the MAX. Across from me were two girls that couldn't have been much older than eighteen. All dressed up on a Friday night with nowhere to go. One mentioned calling her ex-boyfriend to see what he was up to. Apparently he was the love of her life and she didn't want to let him idly slip through her fingers, whilst "whore bags like Jessica were looking to snatch him up". I tried to sequester my giggles with a fake cough. They glanced over in my direction and I'm sure some sort of awkward moment came to fruition, but thankfully it was quickly dismissed and they went back to their conversation. "He's the best thing that has ever happened to me. Sure, there's drama there, but man, he makes me weak at the knees. I love him." I couldn't help but hold in yet another giggle. "You're only eighteen. What do you know about love?" I silently mused. But no sooner than that thought came to me, did I question my own knowledge of love and it's intricacies. One almost marriage. One ex-boyfriend that I was currently in a fight with. One current overly complicated fling. And one new stranger that was interested in me. My own relationship with love was a tangled web of distress that left me with a hundred questions and absolutely zero answers. So, who was I to judge these girls? Maybe it really was true love between her and her ex-boyfriend. Maybe they really were soul mates. Or maybe it was just a teenage excuse to get laid. Who knows? Certainly I was in position to make comments or pass judgments. The truth is that no one ever really knows about love. Even when you're in it, you're constantly wondering if you really are or if it's all in your head; if it's the real thing or just some elaborate fantasy you've carefully constructed. I started thinking about the fine line between love and lust. The real thing versus the illusion; how to distinguish what your heart is projecting versus what is really in front of you. "L'amore e cieco." Love is blind. It's true. Love makes fools of all of us. It makes us hold radios over our heads, throw rocks at windows, stay up all night texting when we have to work early in the morning, karaoke awful 80's songs, all of these things. It lifts us up to the sky and sometimes, drops us to the bottom of the ocean. Love is messy, it's tricky and complicated. You'll inevitably spend nights alone, pacing back and forth, wondering if she or he really likes you. You'll talk endlessly about them to your friends, perking up any time someone mentions their name. You'll look at your phone a hundred times, willing them to call. And you'll look like a fool doing all of these things. But maybe all you can do when you find the person that sends your heart all a'flutter is to simply just hold on and try to make the ride last as long as possible, remembering to cherish every moment. Maybe that person might break your heart, but maybe, just maybe they'll be the one you spend your life with. Love is like a book with the ending ripped out. You never know how the story ends, but let's be honest, that's part of the excitement. ;)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Excerpt from MAX Musings.
December 29, 2010
"i know, riiiight?"
i had just left work and as i was walking up to the blue line, i called my friend mikel for his address. i was about to ship off his christmas present but realized i had the wrong one. as per the usual, i had missed the first blue line and was forced to wait for the next one. mikel and i chatted on, killing the wait time. overseeing a couple in an argument, i made a comment about my own relationship fears. mikel then interjected and expressed his opinions on my fear of relationships in general, not just those romantically-entangled. he was worried that i had begun to build up a wall so high that barely anyone would be able to break it down. stunned by his honesty, i sat down on the nearest bench and began to explain my side. "i've been hurt so many times, walked all over so many times, isn't it only natural to build up a wall?" the girl who had also been sitting on the bench perked up and scooted closer to me. i figured she needed to stretch her legs or readjust her position, so i continued, "part of me just expects people to screw me over and if they don't initially, it seems to be only a matter of time before they do." at this point, the girl that had been scooting closer and closer to me, finally broke down, put her hand on mine and as i looked up, her smooth caramel eyes met mine and she hollered out, "girrrrl, i know, riiight?!" we shared a quick laugh and then she went on, "these people be hatin' all the time, so it's instinct to self-protect, especially when it comes to them boys. best idea is to use 'em, then lose 'em." it must have been the honesty in my eyes or the emptiness in my smirk, because then she automatically knew. "i know girl. when you fall for someone, you give them your whole heart. the ones that mean the most, you can't just throw them away." i smirked and gave out a sigh. "it's hard being an optimist in a world that's trying so hard to turn me into a pessimist. people are constantly proving that there isn't much good left out there, so yeah i've built up walls. like you said, gotta self-protect." mikel snickered at both of us, upset that we would even question other people's motives. the eternal realist in him stated, "there are people out there that are worth it, but you'll miss out on them if you're stuck behind your own fears." the girl next to me overheard mikel's "pearls of wisdom" then rolled her eyes and said that it was tiring wading through all the bullshit to find the good eggs. to which i said a resounding, "i hear that sistaaa." she laughed, half at me, half with me and said, "girl, you're so white!" then the long-awaited blue line met us at the station and we went our separate ways. i hung up with mikel, afraid i'd lose cell phone reception on the commute. while i was staring out at rainy ol' portland, a few women approached me, apologized for eave's dropping on the previous conversation and agreed with what was said. "it is natural to be on the defensive.." then there were several men in the next seats over that joined the conversation. the men seemed to take the same stance mikel did: "give it time, there are good people out there. you've just got to be open to these sorts of things." the women did not agree. it seems to me that apparently as women after a certain number of failed relationships, we're bound to close off, shut down and forget about even trying. we build up walls and commit yourself to the ways of self-preservation. we learn to depend on ourselves and ourselves alone. and it's there, in that spacious emptiness, where the original optimism used to reside, that's where doubt, pain and pessimism begin to flourish. as we were nearing the 82nd street stop, our heated debate simmered somewhat and i was left there to sit by my lonesome. as i turned my attention back to the window, one final woman sat down next to me. after taking in a few deep breaths, she somberly said, "you know, maybe i was too quick to judge back there.. it's true, i've been hurt in irreversible ways, but i wouldn't call myself a pessimist. sure, i can get on the defensive, but it's easy to shut down once you've been hurt. it's harder to keep believing." and with that, she seemed to have released some of her own pain. as she was about to step off the MAX line, she looked back at me and said, "i hope one day you'll open up again, because love really is worth it." then the doors closed and the MAX continued on its way to the 60th stop, where i was getting off. the rest of the ride, i couldn't help but think of my own inner pessimist. maybe i do shut down in fear, maybe in doing so, i end up taking the easy route. maybe we are all of us afraid to get hurt, but then, maybe that woman was onto something. maybe if we always stay clammed up, we could miss out on something truly great. who knows? lightning could strike.
hope you guys enjoyed
and stay tuned for more!
love always, t.
December 29, 2010
"i know, riiiight?"
i had just left work and as i was walking up to the blue line, i called my friend mikel for his address. i was about to ship off his christmas present but realized i had the wrong one. as per the usual, i had missed the first blue line and was forced to wait for the next one. mikel and i chatted on, killing the wait time. overseeing a couple in an argument, i made a comment about my own relationship fears. mikel then interjected and expressed his opinions on my fear of relationships in general, not just those romantically-entangled. he was worried that i had begun to build up a wall so high that barely anyone would be able to break it down. stunned by his honesty, i sat down on the nearest bench and began to explain my side. "i've been hurt so many times, walked all over so many times, isn't it only natural to build up a wall?" the girl who had also been sitting on the bench perked up and scooted closer to me. i figured she needed to stretch her legs or readjust her position, so i continued, "part of me just expects people to screw me over and if they don't initially, it seems to be only a matter of time before they do." at this point, the girl that had been scooting closer and closer to me, finally broke down, put her hand on mine and as i looked up, her smooth caramel eyes met mine and she hollered out, "girrrrl, i know, riiight?!" we shared a quick laugh and then she went on, "these people be hatin' all the time, so it's instinct to self-protect, especially when it comes to them boys. best idea is to use 'em, then lose 'em." it must have been the honesty in my eyes or the emptiness in my smirk, because then she automatically knew. "i know girl. when you fall for someone, you give them your whole heart. the ones that mean the most, you can't just throw them away." i smirked and gave out a sigh. "it's hard being an optimist in a world that's trying so hard to turn me into a pessimist. people are constantly proving that there isn't much good left out there, so yeah i've built up walls. like you said, gotta self-protect." mikel snickered at both of us, upset that we would even question other people's motives. the eternal realist in him stated, "there are people out there that are worth it, but you'll miss out on them if you're stuck behind your own fears." the girl next to me overheard mikel's "pearls of wisdom" then rolled her eyes and said that it was tiring wading through all the bullshit to find the good eggs. to which i said a resounding, "i hear that sistaaa." she laughed, half at me, half with me and said, "girl, you're so white!" then the long-awaited blue line met us at the station and we went our separate ways. i hung up with mikel, afraid i'd lose cell phone reception on the commute. while i was staring out at rainy ol' portland, a few women approached me, apologized for eave's dropping on the previous conversation and agreed with what was said. "it is natural to be on the defensive.." then there were several men in the next seats over that joined the conversation. the men seemed to take the same stance mikel did: "give it time, there are good people out there. you've just got to be open to these sorts of things." the women did not agree. it seems to me that apparently as women after a certain number of failed relationships, we're bound to close off, shut down and forget about even trying. we build up walls and commit yourself to the ways of self-preservation. we learn to depend on ourselves and ourselves alone. and it's there, in that spacious emptiness, where the original optimism used to reside, that's where doubt, pain and pessimism begin to flourish. as we were nearing the 82nd street stop, our heated debate simmered somewhat and i was left there to sit by my lonesome. as i turned my attention back to the window, one final woman sat down next to me. after taking in a few deep breaths, she somberly said, "you know, maybe i was too quick to judge back there.. it's true, i've been hurt in irreversible ways, but i wouldn't call myself a pessimist. sure, i can get on the defensive, but it's easy to shut down once you've been hurt. it's harder to keep believing." and with that, she seemed to have released some of her own pain. as she was about to step off the MAX line, she looked back at me and said, "i hope one day you'll open up again, because love really is worth it." then the doors closed and the MAX continued on its way to the 60th stop, where i was getting off. the rest of the ride, i couldn't help but think of my own inner pessimist. maybe i do shut down in fear, maybe in doing so, i end up taking the easy route. maybe we are all of us afraid to get hurt, but then, maybe that woman was onto something. maybe if we always stay clammed up, we could miss out on something truly great. who knows? lightning could strike.
hope you guys enjoyed
and stay tuned for more!
love always, t.
Friday, January 14, 2011
rewrite
[r
-r
t
] verb.
1. to write again, especially in a different or improved form; revise.
my life has been a process of writing, rewriting, scratching out lines, filling in blanks, rewriting it again, crinkling the paper, throwing it in the trash and then going back to retrieve it, just to edit it all over again. i think, double think, triple think everything, especially when it comes to matters of my heart.
i've had several previous failed relationships that left me broken, without an instruction manual telling me how to go about reassembling the broken pieces. for so long, i left myself to marinate in that pain, in that sorrow. it's in that space where my doubt and frustration began to flourish and so brick by brick, i began to build a wall so thick around my heart that even those closest to me couldn't break it down. i continuously taught myself to think with my brain and to just ignore my heart, because yes life is scary alone but a broken heart was scarier.
it wasn't until recently that i realized just how thick that wall actually is. i will say this of time spent alone, you have a lot of time to be alone (and think). it's in these quiet moments, you can end up revealing yourself to yourself. the good, the bad and the downright painful. i have come face to face with some of my own personal demons, things i never wanted to face head-to-head. but now having come out of those battles alive, i have gained a full-circle knowledge of my view on relationships, of trusting people, letting people in and that pesky thing called love -- and i can confidently and proudly say, i am beginning to rewrite my stance on matters of the heart.
yes, my ability to trust others is easier said than done and yes, i am deathly afraid of having my heart broken yet again - but, and maybe this makes me a bit of a hopeless romantic, but i believe in the beauty of a warm embrace, the thrill of kisses, the mystery of a secret glances across the room and all of the stomach-flipping, heart-throbbing, fingernail-biting excitement. i have noticed one undeniable truth: the moments i've held onto the longest time, the moments i've felt most alive and felt the happiest are moments where i've thrown caution to the wind, put myself out on a limb and ignored my head and listened to my heart.
it knows me better than i know myself.
ps, i listened to: "ready to love again" by lady antebellum whilst writing this post.
it's lovely and i hope it inspires you to break down some walls of your own.
as always, love, t.
[r
-rt] verb.1. to write again, especially in a different or improved form; revise.
my life has been a process of writing, rewriting, scratching out lines, filling in blanks, rewriting it again, crinkling the paper, throwing it in the trash and then going back to retrieve it, just to edit it all over again. i think, double think, triple think everything, especially when it comes to matters of my heart.
i've had several previous failed relationships that left me broken, without an instruction manual telling me how to go about reassembling the broken pieces. for so long, i left myself to marinate in that pain, in that sorrow. it's in that space where my doubt and frustration began to flourish and so brick by brick, i began to build a wall so thick around my heart that even those closest to me couldn't break it down. i continuously taught myself to think with my brain and to just ignore my heart, because yes life is scary alone but a broken heart was scarier.
it wasn't until recently that i realized just how thick that wall actually is. i will say this of time spent alone, you have a lot of time to be alone (and think). it's in these quiet moments, you can end up revealing yourself to yourself. the good, the bad and the downright painful. i have come face to face with some of my own personal demons, things i never wanted to face head-to-head. but now having come out of those battles alive, i have gained a full-circle knowledge of my view on relationships, of trusting people, letting people in and that pesky thing called love -- and i can confidently and proudly say, i am beginning to rewrite my stance on matters of the heart.
yes, my ability to trust others is easier said than done and yes, i am deathly afraid of having my heart broken yet again - but, and maybe this makes me a bit of a hopeless romantic, but i believe in the beauty of a warm embrace, the thrill of kisses, the mystery of a secret glances across the room and all of the stomach-flipping, heart-throbbing, fingernail-biting excitement. i have noticed one undeniable truth: the moments i've held onto the longest time, the moments i've felt most alive and felt the happiest are moments where i've thrown caution to the wind, put myself out on a limb and ignored my head and listened to my heart.
it knows me better than i know myself.
ps, i listened to: "ready to love again" by lady antebellum whilst writing this post.
it's lovely and i hope it inspires you to break down some walls of your own.
as always, love, t.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
perfectionist
[per-fek-shuh-nist] noun.
1. a person who adheres to or believes in perfectionism.
2. a person who demands perfect of himself, herself or others.
adjective.
1. of, pertaining to or distinguished by perfection or perfectionism.
it's become ever so clear to me as of late, my extreme fear of failure, of disappointment. i'm not so much afraid of letting other people down. i already am fully aware i will never be the daughter my parents want me to be. i will never be the girl the world is trying to make me into. of these facts, i am fully aware and at peace with. don't get me wrong, a part of me strives to meet other's expectations, but not meeting them doesn't send me hurling into some sort of existential crisis. but what keeps me up at night, what literally holds me full of anxiety with is not meeting my own personal standards. i'm terrified of disappointing myself. this may seem like a normal problem. everyone sets personal goals, things they wish to achieve and everyone is afraid of not meeting said goals. this in turn they define as a failure. and then there are some, so plagued by the anxiety of failing, we stand on the sidelines instead of playing in the game. i have found myself on several occasions, weighing the options at such great length, listing every pro and con that i find myself missing out.
i guess the biggest arena of potential failure right now involves this whole concept of going back to school. i play it over and over again in my head. i am a perfectionist, fact. going back to school should be only second nature to me and yet, here i am, deferring another quarter. seems silly, right? yes, especially if you actually know me. i am the sort of kid that loves going to school. i love office supplies. i love back to school shopping. i love note taking. i love learning. these are all well-known truths about tiffany and yet. and yet. and yet. i keep making excuses not to go back because the truth is: i'm afraid. i'm afraid of failing at the one thing i feel i know how to do. i'm afraid some teacher is going to put me in my place. i'm afraid that my dream of writing until my dying day will be shot down by some failing grade. i'm deathly afraid of failing grades, of not being able to get a handle on things. so here i am, deferring yet another quarter. like i said, sitting on the sidelines.
but if there's anything i've learned in life, it's that: the time for hesitation is through. i can keep making excuses until i'm blue in the face, but if i'm continuously making excuses, i will end up eighty years old, wondering where my life went. i refuse to sit here (or there) and wonder what if.
so, hellooooo summer quarter.
time to put up or shut up, tiffany.
[per-fek-shuh-nist] noun.
1. a person who adheres to or believes in perfectionism.
2. a person who demands perfect of himself, herself or others.
adjective.
1. of, pertaining to or distinguished by perfection or perfectionism.
it's become ever so clear to me as of late, my extreme fear of failure, of disappointment. i'm not so much afraid of letting other people down. i already am fully aware i will never be the daughter my parents want me to be. i will never be the girl the world is trying to make me into. of these facts, i am fully aware and at peace with. don't get me wrong, a part of me strives to meet other's expectations, but not meeting them doesn't send me hurling into some sort of existential crisis. but what keeps me up at night, what literally holds me full of anxiety with is not meeting my own personal standards. i'm terrified of disappointing myself. this may seem like a normal problem. everyone sets personal goals, things they wish to achieve and everyone is afraid of not meeting said goals. this in turn they define as a failure. and then there are some, so plagued by the anxiety of failing, we stand on the sidelines instead of playing in the game. i have found myself on several occasions, weighing the options at such great length, listing every pro and con that i find myself missing out.
i guess the biggest arena of potential failure right now involves this whole concept of going back to school. i play it over and over again in my head. i am a perfectionist, fact. going back to school should be only second nature to me and yet, here i am, deferring another quarter. seems silly, right? yes, especially if you actually know me. i am the sort of kid that loves going to school. i love office supplies. i love back to school shopping. i love note taking. i love learning. these are all well-known truths about tiffany and yet. and yet. and yet. i keep making excuses not to go back because the truth is: i'm afraid. i'm afraid of failing at the one thing i feel i know how to do. i'm afraid some teacher is going to put me in my place. i'm afraid that my dream of writing until my dying day will be shot down by some failing grade. i'm deathly afraid of failing grades, of not being able to get a handle on things. so here i am, deferring yet another quarter. like i said, sitting on the sidelines.
but if there's anything i've learned in life, it's that: the time for hesitation is through. i can keep making excuses until i'm blue in the face, but if i'm continuously making excuses, i will end up eighty years old, wondering where my life went. i refuse to sit here (or there) and wonder what if.
so, hellooooo summer quarter.
time to put up or shut up, tiffany.
Sunday, January 09, 2011
connect
[kə-nekt] verb.
1. to become joined.
2. to have or establish rapport.
an excerpt from my MAX Musings Book.
"December 21st and 22nd, 2010 - Mini Skirts Are Better Than Pants"
Just leaving work, I was walking up 102nd toward the MAX stop when a sprightly older gentleman asked me how on earth i could be texting on my cell phone and not be wearing gloves in the unforgiving 30 (degrees farenheit) weather. I shrugged it off, blaming my thick Chicago skin. "30 in December in Chicago- that's a heat wave!" We shared a giggle and then I noticed he was clad in shorts, a far colder option when compared to glove-less state. He noticed my downward gesture, "I just finished working out so I'm a bit warm right now anways." I smiled and made note that things are not always as they seem. To which he said, rather flamboyantly, "Oooh, girlfriend! Don't I know it, I have to wear pants in December because it's too cold for mini skirts!" Never being one to judge someone on their lifestyle choices, I simply smiled, "I hear that sister. Tights don't keep a girl warm in 30degree weather!" It was at that moment, the walk signal appeared and we were off in different directions, but not before sharing a hearty laugh and a series of conspicuous winking. I decided to cherish the moment in the "much needed laugh" category in the filing cabinet of my mind. I continued on my way home, thinking I'd never see that jolly ol' man again.
But then came the following morning. Being that this was the first Christmas since my favorite oma (grandma in german) passed away, I knew this particular trip home was going to be a rough one. On the day of my departing flight, I kindly asked Sarah to drive me to the 60th Avenue MAX station so I wouldn't have to lug my thirty pound suitcase behind me for a half mile. She cheerfully obliged, reminding me the two Australian couch surfers that had been staying with us needed to be dropped off there as well. Upon reaching the MAX station, we said our goodbyes to Sarah and Kiri, Tess and I headed down toward the rails. Just as we hit the first stair, that same sprightly old man appeared in my peripheral and started telling Tess her outfit was inappropriate for such weather. "Girlfriend, it's too chilly out here to be wearing that tiny coat with just leggings and a dress on. That's why I can't wear my mini skirts! Winter is just too damn cold!" He then met my eyes, gave me the biggest bear hug I'd ever had thus far and excitedly exclaimed, "Oooh You're the girl from 102nd yesterday! How have the last 12 hours been for you? Snuggle up close to a sexy man last night, because that's what I did! Ooh, look at your fierce self with a bright pink suitcase, where are you going?!" I regaled him with my Chicago Christmas plans, about how I needed to go home, see my family. There must have been a somberness in my tone because immediately picking up on it, he said, "Seems to me like this one won't be the same as last year's. You okay little girl?" I held back a few tears that were forming in my eyes and being the intuitive man he was, he quickly changed the subject to his love of all things Chicago. He talked about his fascination with the Bears, with Michigan Avenue shopping, with the gorgeous skyline and then before we knew it, his MAX line appeared and he had to leave. He gave me another big bear hug and told me to have a very merry holiday. Kiri and Tess stood in awe, he hadn't stopped talking, not once. They were a bit put off by his sheer friendliness but I found it comforting. Five minutes later, I found myself alone on the Red Line MAX en route to the Portland Airport. On the way, I started thinking about the inevitable and surprising connectivity of life. Here was this man, someone I thought I'd never see again, right there in front of me not ten minutes ago. We barely shared more than five minutes of conversation the previous day and yet he greeted me with the enthusiasm you reserve for an old-time friend. Then there were Tess and Kiri, who had only spent three days with Sarah and I, but there we were, making plans to visit each other in the future. And then it hit me: this is what life is about. Making connection. Reaching out to those around you, even if they're strangers. To remind us all: we are not alone. And sometimes, when you least expect it, life surprises you and some of those strangers turn into friends, lovers, family. It's the stringing of those small connections that make up a life, make up your story. Make up my story.
[kə-nekt] verb.
1. to become joined.
2. to have or establish rapport.
an excerpt from my MAX Musings Book.
"December 21st and 22nd, 2010 - Mini Skirts Are Better Than Pants"
Just leaving work, I was walking up 102nd toward the MAX stop when a sprightly older gentleman asked me how on earth i could be texting on my cell phone and not be wearing gloves in the unforgiving 30 (degrees farenheit) weather. I shrugged it off, blaming my thick Chicago skin. "30 in December in Chicago- that's a heat wave!" We shared a giggle and then I noticed he was clad in shorts, a far colder option when compared to glove-less state. He noticed my downward gesture, "I just finished working out so I'm a bit warm right now anways." I smiled and made note that things are not always as they seem. To which he said, rather flamboyantly, "Oooh, girlfriend! Don't I know it, I have to wear pants in December because it's too cold for mini skirts!" Never being one to judge someone on their lifestyle choices, I simply smiled, "I hear that sister. Tights don't keep a girl warm in 30degree weather!" It was at that moment, the walk signal appeared and we were off in different directions, but not before sharing a hearty laugh and a series of conspicuous winking. I decided to cherish the moment in the "much needed laugh" category in the filing cabinet of my mind. I continued on my way home, thinking I'd never see that jolly ol' man again.
But then came the following morning. Being that this was the first Christmas since my favorite oma (grandma in german) passed away, I knew this particular trip home was going to be a rough one. On the day of my departing flight, I kindly asked Sarah to drive me to the 60th Avenue MAX station so I wouldn't have to lug my thirty pound suitcase behind me for a half mile. She cheerfully obliged, reminding me the two Australian couch surfers that had been staying with us needed to be dropped off there as well. Upon reaching the MAX station, we said our goodbyes to Sarah and Kiri, Tess and I headed down toward the rails. Just as we hit the first stair, that same sprightly old man appeared in my peripheral and started telling Tess her outfit was inappropriate for such weather. "Girlfriend, it's too chilly out here to be wearing that tiny coat with just leggings and a dress on. That's why I can't wear my mini skirts! Winter is just too damn cold!" He then met my eyes, gave me the biggest bear hug I'd ever had thus far and excitedly exclaimed, "Oooh You're the girl from 102nd yesterday! How have the last 12 hours been for you? Snuggle up close to a sexy man last night, because that's what I did! Ooh, look at your fierce self with a bright pink suitcase, where are you going?!" I regaled him with my Chicago Christmas plans, about how I needed to go home, see my family. There must have been a somberness in my tone because immediately picking up on it, he said, "Seems to me like this one won't be the same as last year's. You okay little girl?" I held back a few tears that were forming in my eyes and being the intuitive man he was, he quickly changed the subject to his love of all things Chicago. He talked about his fascination with the Bears, with Michigan Avenue shopping, with the gorgeous skyline and then before we knew it, his MAX line appeared and he had to leave. He gave me another big bear hug and told me to have a very merry holiday. Kiri and Tess stood in awe, he hadn't stopped talking, not once. They were a bit put off by his sheer friendliness but I found it comforting. Five minutes later, I found myself alone on the Red Line MAX en route to the Portland Airport. On the way, I started thinking about the inevitable and surprising connectivity of life. Here was this man, someone I thought I'd never see again, right there in front of me not ten minutes ago. We barely shared more than five minutes of conversation the previous day and yet he greeted me with the enthusiasm you reserve for an old-time friend. Then there were Tess and Kiri, who had only spent three days with Sarah and I, but there we were, making plans to visit each other in the future. And then it hit me: this is what life is about. Making connection. Reaching out to those around you, even if they're strangers. To remind us all: we are not alone. And sometimes, when you least expect it, life surprises you and some of those strangers turn into friends, lovers, family. It's the stringing of those small connections that make up a life, make up your story. Make up my story.
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