Back in the Land of the Living after So Many Weeks?
It never seems to stop, all of the running around. Lately, my time spent when not working has been rather unproductive, or at least it feels like it. A lot of it is taken up in speculative activities. Preeminent among those is, of course, looking for an apartment. The last few evenings I've looked over the same sites and seen the same prices. I've also been taking a look at Craigslist as well, having received several positive endorsement over the past couple of weeks. Whether or not the next week will be crazy is up in the air, but since I'm currently pulling two jobs, I'm going to have to make sure that certain key tasks get done on the nights I've got free. I've gotten out of the habit of using my PDA regularly--no surprise, there--and I know this little piece is great for keeping me organized.
Whirlwind Weekend
Last Friday saw me headed to Atlanta for my father's birthday celebration. He turned 65 early on in the week, but decided to have the shindig on the weekend so that people could attend. I wasn't necessarily all that enthusiastic, since my father and I aren't necessarily on the best of terms. It's not that we fight all of the time; you have to speak and/or see each other at least semi-regularly for that to happen. Mainly on my part there's resentment of his lack of being a father, not to mention his prejudices and occasional ignorant behavior. I'm not really privy to what goes on in my father's head, and the same goes in the reverse. Between lack of communicating and not being near enough to see each other, the relationship is in a state of inertia, neither moving forward nor faded anymore than it could possibly be outside of outright animosity. It's an inert, inactive thing that seems like more energy than it would be worth to cultivate.
The weekend did not begin on a promising note. I wasn't feeling well on Friday, a result of a few days of little or no sleep catching up with me at work and sending me home early. A nap helped clear the cobwebs, but it also ate away time I needed to finished getting ready to travel. I spent last few hours straightening up, getting items ready for the carry-on and checked bags, depositing paychecks and making last-minute purchases. My flight was scheduled to leave at 6:15, and I arrived at Detroit Metro a little under an hour before scheduled departure. I found out there that because I had a "Friends and Family" ticket for Delta, that I was on standby. Thankfully the flight was not booked up, which was apparently unusual for a Friday. I managed to get there as they were boarding passengers, and the ticket agent hadn't even called my section yet, so I was in a good position. The flight itself was pretty comfortable, and I was able to have a pleasant conversation with a really nice woman who lived in Atlanta but worked in Michigan during the week.
I'm a fan of thunderstorms, despite the fact that my roommates' dog feels them coming along and starts getting antsy, then tries to wedge his 95-pound bulk onto your lap when the booms roll across the sky. It's not every flight that you get to see a storm, and it's truly fascinating. It's a delicate, opaque and silken cloth draped over the landscape, stretching from cloud to earth that forms the individual droplets of rain we run from when it pours down on top of us. Streaks of lightening hurled themselves from inner recesses of that mass. It was a truly beautiful display.
It's really too bad, then, that this work of nature had its showing over Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport.
I got to see Atlanta and the storm from different angles for the thirty minutes or so spent circling around the airport before the pilot announced that we were headed to Columbus airport for refueling. Columbus was about 85 miles away, which was twenty minutes or so by plane. In all, it took am hour and a few minutes to get there and refuel, then another twenty minutes to make the return trip. I was supposed to touch down in Atlanta at around 8:15 p.m. Instead, I'm deplaning at 10:15. Would that the irritating part of my flight ended there, I would have been less irritable by the time I reached the passenger pick-up platform. Unfortunately the baggage claim section had other plans. It took me as long to get my baggage as it did for me to get to Atlanta in the first place. Thankfully I'd called my dad while I was on the ground in Columbus. Otherwise, he would have been circling the airport for nearly four hours waiting for me.
Needless to say, then, I was not very desirous of a weekend staying at my father's apartment. I must say, though, I'm not sure I'd want to stay even if if we were on stellar terms. Before I came down, I spoke to my sister, Wakitha. Wakitha is my father's daughter from his first marriage; my mother would never put that name on a child of hers. She was happy for me to stay at her place for the weekend. I was glad to know she was willing, because I'm keen on having an adult relationship with my siblings, despite the age difference and not growing up in the same area of the country. Needless to say my late arrival delayed my getting to her house, especially since her relationship with our father is more actively in the realm of strong discord on both sides than is mine, and he doesn't even know where she stays. We agreed that she would come and pick me up (later on) in the morning . . .
I'll finish this story tomorrow, folks. I need my {cough} beauty sleep.
Thanks to my best friend and sis, sexyscholar, for introducing me to Jason Mraz. Me heart him mucho!
Whirlwind Weekend
Last Friday saw me headed to Atlanta for my father's birthday celebration. He turned 65 early on in the week, but decided to have the shindig on the weekend so that people could attend. I wasn't necessarily all that enthusiastic, since my father and I aren't necessarily on the best of terms. It's not that we fight all of the time; you have to speak and/or see each other at least semi-regularly for that to happen. Mainly on my part there's resentment of his lack of being a father, not to mention his prejudices and occasional ignorant behavior. I'm not really privy to what goes on in my father's head, and the same goes in the reverse. Between lack of communicating and not being near enough to see each other, the relationship is in a state of inertia, neither moving forward nor faded anymore than it could possibly be outside of outright animosity. It's an inert, inactive thing that seems like more energy than it would be worth to cultivate.
The weekend did not begin on a promising note. I wasn't feeling well on Friday, a result of a few days of little or no sleep catching up with me at work and sending me home early. A nap helped clear the cobwebs, but it also ate away time I needed to finished getting ready to travel. I spent last few hours straightening up, getting items ready for the carry-on and checked bags, depositing paychecks and making last-minute purchases. My flight was scheduled to leave at 6:15, and I arrived at Detroit Metro a little under an hour before scheduled departure. I found out there that because I had a "Friends and Family" ticket for Delta, that I was on standby. Thankfully the flight was not booked up, which was apparently unusual for a Friday. I managed to get there as they were boarding passengers, and the ticket agent hadn't even called my section yet, so I was in a good position. The flight itself was pretty comfortable, and I was able to have a pleasant conversation with a really nice woman who lived in Atlanta but worked in Michigan during the week.
I'm a fan of thunderstorms, despite the fact that my roommates' dog feels them coming along and starts getting antsy, then tries to wedge his 95-pound bulk onto your lap when the booms roll across the sky. It's not every flight that you get to see a storm, and it's truly fascinating. It's a delicate, opaque and silken cloth draped over the landscape, stretching from cloud to earth that forms the individual droplets of rain we run from when it pours down on top of us. Streaks of lightening hurled themselves from inner recesses of that mass. It was a truly beautiful display.
It's really too bad, then, that this work of nature had its showing over Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport.
I got to see Atlanta and the storm from different angles for the thirty minutes or so spent circling around the airport before the pilot announced that we were headed to Columbus airport for refueling. Columbus was about 85 miles away, which was twenty minutes or so by plane. In all, it took am hour and a few minutes to get there and refuel, then another twenty minutes to make the return trip. I was supposed to touch down in Atlanta at around 8:15 p.m. Instead, I'm deplaning at 10:15. Would that the irritating part of my flight ended there, I would have been less irritable by the time I reached the passenger pick-up platform. Unfortunately the baggage claim section had other plans. It took me as long to get my baggage as it did for me to get to Atlanta in the first place. Thankfully I'd called my dad while I was on the ground in Columbus. Otherwise, he would have been circling the airport for nearly four hours waiting for me.
Needless to say, then, I was not very desirous of a weekend staying at my father's apartment. I must say, though, I'm not sure I'd want to stay even if if we were on stellar terms. Before I came down, I spoke to my sister, Wakitha. Wakitha is my father's daughter from his first marriage; my mother would never put that name on a child of hers. She was happy for me to stay at her place for the weekend. I was glad to know she was willing, because I'm keen on having an adult relationship with my siblings, despite the age difference and not growing up in the same area of the country. Needless to say my late arrival delayed my getting to her house, especially since her relationship with our father is more actively in the realm of strong discord on both sides than is mine, and he doesn't even know where she stays. We agreed that she would come and pick me up (later on) in the morning . . .
I'll finish this story tomorrow, folks. I need my {cough} beauty sleep.
Thanks to my best friend and sis, sexyscholar, for introducing me to Jason Mraz. Me heart him mucho!