Woo, I need to blow off some steam. An ever-so-tardy post
shall be my therapy. If I weren't writing right now, I'd probably be throwing
punches in the middle of the Philly airport. This is a much better channel for
alleviating my frustration, agreed?
The man to my right is violently typing on his laptop. I really think his fingers must be in pain. Maybe he's typing about the annoying pissed off looking girl to his left (me). The three girls behind me,whom I am pretty sure are currently on the clock, continue laughing at an obnoxious volume level and talking about vaginas. Last, but most aggravating of all, the man nearby SLURPING his Panda Express. Absolutely nothing gets under my skin like odd chewing, swallowing, and breathing noises. Seriously dude, eat like a human, slurping was only cute in Lady and the Tramp. I bet if I were in the airport bar having a glass of wine I wouldn't be annoyed by such trivial things....68 days, 68 days. It's getting so close that I need to start thinking of a game plan for the bday/end of challenge celebration. Should I go out and order a nice bottle or stay in and buy a nice bottle? Notice a nice bottle is involved in both options, that's my only requirement.
I know I've said many times that this has been so much more fulfilling ad rewarding than I could have ever expected, but I need to reemphasize that point. The past ten months have changed my life so drastically, and in such a positive way, that I can confidently say I will forever be a stronger, happier and healthier individual because of it. Are all the outcomes solely from not drinking? Hell no. It has been a trickle effect all relating back to the fact that because I challenged myself to do something prolonged that changed my actions on a regular basis, I now believe I can do anything. Prolonged is the key word there, because I think the relatively long nature of the challenge really helped produce stronger and more meaningful results for me. Sometimes when I'm at crossfit, I finish and I'm literally shocked at the weight I just pulled or the time in which I completed the WOD; however during the workout I never doubt myself and I'm not scared to push further than I ever have before. (Unless it comes to box jumps - that's a different story.) In essence, I have changed my perspective on my life and the world around me. So, on that note, lets revisit the people I was just complaining about...maybe the guy on his laptop is really passionate about what he is typing or maybe his fingers are just cold and he can't tell he's assaulting the keyboard. I'm sure the laughing girls really do think that their vaginas are funny - I won't argue on that one. And the slurping guy, ugh this pains me, but he was just trying to enjoy a meal on the go. Who am I to sit in a public area and judge him for his disgusting noises? (Haha I can't help myself, even though I realize my flaws). Anyway, point is, it's all about perspective. Those people aren't worried about what I'm thinking, they are experiencing the moment from a different perspective, as we all obviously do.
Lately I find myself saying "it's all about perspective" at least twice a day. In mid-February, my family was changed forever. We lost my Uncle Andy. As I drove to pick-up his parents at the airport that morning, I was thinking about the topic of perspective. Most of the time when I travel, it is for pleasure. I am excited to get on the plane on the outbound because it marks the start of an adventure, and I'm usually exhausted yet (ironically) rejuvenated on the return, bringing back new treasured memories. Before that day, I never took the time to think that the person traveling next to me may be flying for a reason that would not be categorized as either business or pleasure. I was of course hurting, but it was then that I smiled. I found my thoughts were evoking compassion... an emotion Andy knew and conveyed better than anyone else, and an emotion with which I tend to struggle. I was convinced he would love that I was thinking of something in a new light, especially a light that made it easier for me to relate to others.
It was as if Andy could see straight through anyone, a verbal explanation was unnecessary for him. He knew what was going on inside (whether it was physical or emotional) and he would try to fix it if you gave him the shot. I think this is one of the million things that made him such a loved and admired pediatric physician /husband/father/uncle/brother/
This post is obviously a bit heavier than my typical light hearted tone...so let me end on some happy memories. Andy and I connected through a love of logic and numbers. When I was about 10 years old I visited Lori and Andy in