When I lived in London, I walked everywhere. From our flat on Sutherland Avenue to the grocery store blocks away...from Farringdon Station to City University...from Leicester Square to Trafalgar. I did some of my best thinking on those walks. London is a city that's full of life but not in an overwhelming, fast-paced way. It has a pulse but it's beneath the surface--in the walls of the National Gallery, throughout the bricks of the White Tower, under the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral. The streets are busy, the bars have an energy, the restaurants are warm and inviting and there is color everywhere. Neon blue for Pizza Express, red and green lights in Piccadilly, blue and red trim on the Tower Bridge. Orange easyeverything internet cafes. I don't know if it was merely my mind's eye but storefronts sparkled there in a way that they don't here. Westminster Abbey gleamed in the sunlight despite the fact that its facade is dark gray and shadowy. Even Highgate Cemetery looked beautiful with the play of light through the trees. I loved London so much that I still think of it as a second home to this day. I've been there four times and I know that I could live there for a year or two if I ever had the chance.

I never felt rushed or threatened there, and I remember feeling like I fit in almost immediately. In fact, Jeff is convinced that I lived there in a past life (as a writer of course) and that I must have died when a horse-and-buggy ran me down in the middle of the road. (I am horribly afraid of getting into a car accident although in this life I've never been involved in anything more severe than a fender bender.) What I miss the most is the walking. I take many walks here and at work, and while they are relaxing, they don't add up to walking miles and miles each day. My head would feel so clear as I briskly passed the local Pret-a-Manger on the way to class, or as I listened to my Walkman (yes, it was before the invention of iPods believe it or not!) on a Saturday afternoon by the River Thames. I need to find a way to de-stress that's as satisfying as those long, powerful and thought-provoking walks. And I'd like to find it sooooon.

Isn't it funny how the little things can literally see you through a long week? Right now I am living for pumpkin spice Friday. What exactly is pumpkin spice Friday, you might inquire. Well, Megan stops at Starbucks everyday on her way to work, and last week we decided that this Friday we would both indulge in some seasonal flavored coffee. Seeing as pumpkin spice ranks a close second to gingerbread latte on my hot drinks scale, I have been waiting in anticipation for days now as if putting my hands around that cup will actually assist me in obtaining a major goal of some kind. Seriously, though. (Note to self: you use the word seriously far too often.) The minute to minute play-by-play of my life isn't always rife with excitement...unless you consider processing memberships and producing accounting reports enthralling, which I don't. But blasting Tori Amos at 9:00 a.m. and screaming "EVERY FINGER IN THE ROOM IS POINTING AT ME", getting up from my desk to randomly dance/do jumping jacks/make faces at Margot and Karen in the other office through the window during the 3:00 p.m. lull, and contemplating about how one reads their address with a straight face when they live on Weekeepeemee Road are all the types of instances that get me through the day.

Many people would consider my life monotonous. I know what to expect at work. I have my routines at home, both in the morning and when I come home at night. I eat the same kinds of food, I take walks. I talk with friends. I blog. I read. I watch girly TV. But I am funny and witty. I know this because I take the time to make people laugh. To cheer them up if they're about to rip someone's head off. I sing at the top of my lungs at work off-key to break up the tedious aspect of our jobs and to lighten the mood. I am pro-active and willing to help, and I take my career and life very seriously. However, I also take the time to smile...to tell Kermit jokes...to send silly forwards labeled "How to stop office gossip" because I want people to know that I care. That I'm interesting. That I'm interested.

Today Erica called me from up the street in the Production Shop. Not for business reasons, but to ask me what my favorite drink was because she had a list of drinks that matched up to certain personality traits. I answered apple martini and she basically told me I was high maintenance. I laughed. It was human interaction, and it had nothing to do with numbers or budgets or events or work. I appreciated the extra 2 minutes that it took out of her day.

Tonight I went for a walk by myself. I ended up sitting on a large piece of driftwood overlooking the water and I thought "This is an amazing view and it's right at my fingertips." I stared out over the ocean for about 10 minutes and then I continued walking. As I was wandering down the grid of streets in our neighborhood, I had the pleasure of first smelling burning leaves (my favorite)...then a block later the soft and comforting smell of fabric softener...and at the end of the street: fresh, cut grass. I felt like I was in heaven and I was only a quarter of a mile away from my own house. I love it. I love the little things because they truly make every day stand out. I don't know what I would do without them.

A Rainy Saturday

I secretly enjoy rainy days. Even rainy Saturdays. There's always something cozy about gazing out the window at the stream of water running down the street while you're wrapped up in a comfy blanket on the couch. Rainy days are an excuse to be lazy for a change. I'm usually doing something all the time and if it's sunny out, I feel the need to be productive. I should...mow the lawn, go for a walk, plan a picnic, sweep the deck, shop at the outlets, etc. Although I suppose you could say the same for rainy days. I guess I should be motivated to do something productive INdoors like...unpack boxes, clean the floors, dust the furniture, organize the junk drawer, get rid of old clothes. But for some reason it's not as pressing for me to be productive on days like today because, eh, I just want to relax. I feel like reading. Like watching The Travel Channel for 3 hours straight. Like hanging out in my shorts and sweatshirt and not bothering to do my hair. For those of you who know me well, you probably know that I would never leave the house looking unkempt...but on rainy days, who really cares? I am productive 96% of the time, and rainy days offer me a reprieve.

Last night I went to the Book Barn after work because this week I blasted through yet another $14 book which was only halfway decent. Lately I've had pretty mediocre luck in the book choosing department. I've read about five in the past month and a half, and not one was worth telling a friend about. Seeing as the only fun activity I've had time for recently has been reading, I find that sad. So if anyone has any suggestions for me, by all means, please let me know. I'm not a huge fan of actual chick lit unless it's also well-written (such as Bridget Jones's Diary, The Reading Group or something similar); however, I am up for any type of interesting fiction or a decent memoir.

They are currently rearranging their teen section at the Book Barn so after I picked out two books from the adult fiction section, I decided to peruse the titles for young adults. I laughed out loud upon seeing the "Point" books from my teenage years--the murder mysteries by Christopher Pike and Richie Tankersley Cusick...then I moved down the aisle and saw the "Freshmen" series I loved to read in high school...and even further down were stacks and stacks of unalphabetized books just waiting to be organized. It was comforting to be in that environment because as far back as I can remember, book stores have been home to me. When I was 8 or 9, I would literally become giddy with excitement when we entered the (very tiny) Waldenbooks at the Naugatuck Valley Mall in Waterbury. Obviously it can't compare to the present-day meccas known as Borders and Barnes and Noble, but at the time all I cared about was buying my one Baby-sitters Club or Sweet Valley Twins book a week. I remember rushing into the store, basically saying "See ya" to my parents and hightailing it to the back where the young adult section used to live. Wringing my excited little fingers all the while.

This week was a stressful one for me, but as soon as I surrounded myself with those familiar titles, I began to relax. That is my method of escape. As nostalgic and silly as it may sound, it brings me back to a time when I had no real worries, and it truly makes me happy. I could sit in the young adult section at the Book Barn (because it's less embarrassing than pulling up a chair to read a book for 13-year-olds in Borders!) for an hour and not get bored. If I'm reallly lucky, a cat might just wander up next to me to hang out and then life really would be perfect.

Seriously, though, rainy days and books go together. All I need to feel content today is a good book, a soft blanket, a mug of coffee and comfy clothes. Looks like I'm all set.

I am sleepy. I say that almost every night around this time. I honestly can't remember when I last enjoyed a terrific sleep-through-the-entire-night slumber. It's been months, at least. I always seem to have so much on my mind that it either seeps out in dream interpretations or literally keeps me awake so that I toss and turn constantly. I battle concerns all night long...and I feel for my poor crumpled up pillows.

My current concern: Tomorrow is Laurie's last day ever at Goodspeed. She has played an integral role in my development there, both personally and professionally. From Opening Night parties to martinis at Lupo to venting walks and Editorial meetings for Curtain, she has been there...as a sounding board, a co-worker, an advice-giver and good friend. She has been the "go-to girl" for everyone in the organization (she has jokingly referred to herself as the Jane of All Trades) and I know that she will sincerely be missed.

As I've mentioned several times in previous blogs, I don't necessarily like change...even when I know it's for the better. I prefer my nostalgic, carefree comfort bubble. (Perhaps that's why one of my friends chose the adjective "idealistic" to describe me in my Johari Window. http://kevan.org/johari?name=TaraAutrey). I usually tend to think of myself as realistic verging on cynical due to my sarcasm and dry sense of humor, but I suppose that she's right in a way. I hold onto the past, I view the memories in my head with such a high regard that occasionally I find it difficult to truly appreciate the present for what it's worth. It's an awful trait, really, to focus on friendships that dwindled away years ago...to reminisce about the joys of being 12 when in actuality being 12 proved to be a serious hardship sometimes.

I know that change is necessary in life. It helps us grow as people, it challenges us to reach for new heights merely because the person who used to assist us is no longer available. I suppose it's a sign of maturity to just accept and get used to the various types of changes that occur. Over the course of the past year, I have experienced a lot of positive change: our marriage, a new last name, a house. These instances are obviously shaping my life for the better, so I don't question them. But it's the more challenging changes--when the people you love leave your organization...or move...or stop calling you...or even stop loving you altogether...that you have to face head-on. We're constantly defining ourselves by examining the pieces of the puzzle that make up our persona. Every change and every reaction serves to further enhance our experience. I don't know if I necessarily believe in the "blessing in disguise" cliche, but I do know that life moves on whether you are ready or not. I hope that I'm ready, but my mood may be off for a few days. A few weeks, even.

And I am still sleepy.

Six Years Ago

9-11-01 (from my personal journal)

This day will go down in the History books as one of the most violent terrorist attacks against America. This morning 2 passenger planes were hijacked and smashed into each tower of the World Trade Center. Then 2 other hijacked planes crashed: one into the Pentagon and one in Pennsylvania (its possible destination the Capitol or White House?) There was also a report of a flight crashing on or around Camp David.

I first heard of the story when I came into work. Around 9:00 a.m. Karlene came in and told me a plane had crashed into the side of the World Trade Center. At that time I thought it was a possible accident or something but a few minutes later Karlene's sister Pam from Florida called and said that another plane crashed into the second tower (just 18 minutes after the first one). Then Jeff called and other clients were calling, buzzing about the news. At this point, these phone calls were our only source of information.

Then we tried plugging in our TV but it didn't work without a cable so Cesar and Jose found us a cable and hooked up the TV in my office. The four of us (C, J, K) and Tony all sat at the TV to watch...apparently while we were hooking everything up the first tower completely crumbled to the ground, totally collapsed. We were watching Channel 3 with Dan Rather, and they showed the smoky New York skyline, now with only one Twin Tower, and they kept showing actual footage of the 2nd plane exploding in the side of the second tower. Anchor newspeople gave first-hand accounts , found eyewitnesses, and everyone speculated who was behind the attacks. (Afghanistan? Palestinians?) Then they showed the lone 2nd tower standing on its own, billowing with smoke. Cesar had just said it looks like it's leaning a little, when all of a sudden on live TV the 2nd tower crumbled and vanished, disappearing without a trace. People ran through the streets in mass chaos, inhaling smoke, getting hit with debris and covered in inches of ash.

Everything major occurred between 8:45 a.m. and 11:30 a.m. We found out about the Pentagon shortly after New York City which is still burning now at 10:45 p.m. The number of casualties at this point remains unknown, but 50,000 people worked at the Trade Center, 200 firefighters are missing and many people got trapped under falling materials, or even incinerated as they sat in traffic.

9-13-01

2 days later. God I can't even spell or write anymore. As you can imagine, it has been an emotionally draining few days for everyone. The 18 hijackers have been identified by the FBI but there are still between 20-30 accomplices at large possibly in the U.S. and Germany. Most of these Middle Eastern men have ties to Osama Bin Laden, a millionaire who has been living in Afghanistan.

Over 4,000 people are missing at the WTC, and about 94 confirmed dead. This is because the rescue effort, although large and amazing in its dedication, is moving along slowly due to the tons of steel and concrete that buried so many people. There have been a few glimmers of hope such as cell phone calls from beneath the rubble as well as the rescue of about 14 people alive under it all. But for the most part, Manhattan is full of many relatives with pictures and stories of their loved ones, breaking America's heart. From answering machine messages to last minute cell phone calls, from people's biographies to their tears and prayers...

Everyone waits for a sign that their brothers, husbands, wives, etc. will be among the survivors. America has united in this attack--Democrats and Republicans, rich and poor, young and old--in an effort to overcome these "acts of war" as President Bush called them. 700,000 people went to the Red Cross to donate blood in 24 hours, and constant donations of clothing, food, water and money have been in supply. Thousands of volunteers rake the scene for any signs of life, although many become terribly affected by what they see.

I've been feeling less than adequate these days. Well, maybe I should rephrase that. I feel very adequate in most aspects of my life, but when it comes to my education and future career, I am completely uncertain. Currently, my brother and his girlfriend are studying for their MBAs at Wake Forest (they are 3 years younger than I am), Jeff is working towards his Master's degree through Pfizer and Temple University, and most of the people who received a Connecticut Teaching Certificate are doing just that: they're teaching. Meanwhile, I am merely floundering around trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up. It just doesn't seem right. I have a decent degree and lately I've been hearing stories about people with lower-level degrees earning almost twice as much as I do. Sometimes it seriously brings me to tears of frustration. I don't know what else to do. I am tired of working so hard and yet feeling like I have nothing to show for it. I am sick of wearing the same four outfits because most of my clothes hang off me and yet I can't afford to buy new, cute and professional ones. I am 27 and I guess I always thought that by this age I would be making a real living with a career that I could be proud of. And it's not to say that I don't care about and appreciate what I do--because I still understand and strive to fulfill the mission--but I am smarter than this. I can do more than this. I want to make a difference...and I'm just not sure how to go about doing it.