So, with the occasional exception, I enjoy Facebook telling me what happened On this Day and the invitation to re-visit posts of the past. Lately, I was seeing references to a Facebook note “challenge” of sorts that was making the rounds NINE YEARS AGO. *Marty crawls into a hole and dies* “25 Random Facts” did what it said on the tin and you were supposed to tag 25 people in it and keep the ball rolling. Today is the anniversary of when I posted mine. Here’s what I shared then and my thoughts on that sharing now.
I’ve now worked for two companies that lease several floors in an office tower. Some employees use the building’s elevator to move between floors. I get the impression it’s not unusual to also have a fancy internal staircase, which fits the company’s interior decoration scheme and might be used by staff and accompanied visitors/clients alike. My favourite means of getting around a multi-floor office is via a fire escape stairwell. They’re quiet, almost always empty, and using them gives me the feeling of being a Downton Abbey-esque servant, making the operation run but being invisible (in a good, efficient cog-in-the-machine way – not in a self-devaluing feeling-underappreciated way). Flight of the Ideator: No Goodbyes (cont.)
It was just after four on a grey Wednesday in January. I was sitting at my desk, filling the last hours of my day with doing those little niggling tasks that remind you it’s a job. Not a dream, not a calling, not a passion. Not a career. And then my phone rang.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that day. And I’ve spent a lot of time thinking since that day. I’ve looked at it through each of the lenses of the stages of grief. As I write my way through this Flight of the Ideator series, I may not be able to do all of them justice because I’ve come out the other side, but I’m grateful for your continued curiosity. Flight of the Ideator: Calling For Change (cont.)
I’m a Leo. I was born in the Year of the Ram. I’m an ENFJ. Despite any suggestions to the contrary, I belong in Ravenclaw (the hat’s opinion may differ at first, but my intent would be taken into consideration, dammit).
There are a lot of fun labels for me and the way I am. I seek them out. I mean, I don’t submit myself to every one of those surveys that get posted on Facebook, but once in a while the results are amusing and can serve as good smalltalk fodder or, honestly, something to post to my timeline as “proof of life”. Flight of the Ideator: A Prologue (cont.)
I’ve had a lot of time lately to reminisce and contemplate. Think about where I’ve been. Try to decide where I want to go, what I want to do.
I got a new computer near the end of 2016 and, much like moving houses, migrating the contents of a hard drive can result in finding old files, buried in some subfolder or other. In one of those, I found this picture.
It’s been cropped within an inch of its life and I think it was taken with a then-cutting-edge point-and-shoot digital camera. But, by golly, that dude in it had some hopes and dreams.
In it, I’m seated on the brick path around the Ryerson Quad. My best guess is that this was taken in the spring of 2001, or perhaps the previous autumn. I’m as much smirking at the camera as I am at the photographer, the woman I was dating at the time. I can’t help but feel I’m also smirking about the future I envisioned. My last year of theatre school. I was thinking about studying and performing in opera if, y’know, the lifelong contract at Stratford fell through.
I wonder what that naïve son-of-a-gun would think of where he wound up a decade and a half later. Would he appreciate the fact that I’m happy, despite the strange misshapen reality I made of his dreams? Probably not. Idealistic infant. At the very least, I don’t think he expected me smirking back at him today. Let alone everyone else smirking at him with me here and the other places I’ve shared this on social media. #TBT