Adam the Urban Cowboy
Monday, November 14, 2005
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Dead Cats Float
Howdy. I think the International Committee of the Red Cross set a new speed record for international mail with my rejection letter. My application package made the trip to Geneva, Switzerland and back to St. Louis in roughly eight days, thus releasing hydrocyanide gas into the box containing the humanitarian cat.
I got the news when I was in Kansas City helping my best friend, Wes, and his new wife, Jess, move into their new house. I couldn't be happier for them because I know that's what they've been working toward: the ultimate symbol of stability, comfort, and security. It's the American Dream, man! They've arrived! I have to say though, that all the "30 YEARS of payments" and "We're never moving again!" talk made my stomach flip!
It's so strange that even after my vagabondery and my newfound respect for having a home base, I still had that primal gut reaction. My instinct tells me that, under those circumstances, one necessarily limits their opportunity to experience new things and facilitates falling into a rut. Where did I get the perception that one moment a person makes that commitment and the next moment he wakes up elderly, wondering where life got off to and why he didn't experience all he'd wanted to? Why has it been my basic assumption that any security or stability is an illusion and that to embrace it is self delusion?
Three weeks ago, I flew to Philadelphia to interview for a sales position with a world renowned aviation safety consulting firm. In the week prior to the interview I had done everything I could think of to prepare. I studied the company website, re-read industry association websites, and wrote out and practiced answers to possible interview questions. I'd already had two phone interviews, but I figured this interview would go into still greater depth in order to make a final decision.
It wasn't more than two minutes after shaking hands with the CEO when he said, "Well, I wouldn't have brought you all the way out here if I wasn't pretty interested in bringing you on board, so if you're still interested, let's talk about money!" For some reason, that was the one question I hadn't prepared for! It hadn't even occurred to me that I might be offered the position on the spot, but we came to an agreement on salary and benefits and agreed that I'd start in two weeks.
I was really glad I'd gone to Kansas City earlier in the summer and sorted through all my stuff and moved everything that was worth keeping from mom's house to St. Louis. Having accomplished that, I was able to pack all of my earthly belongings into three rubbermaid tubs, three cardboard boxes, two duffel bags, a laptop bag, and a guitar case.
Since all that was more or less taken care of, I was able to spend the next two weeks searching Craigslist for a place to sleep in the Philadelphia area, selling my 20 year old car and my 4 month old laptop on eBay, and researching public transportation between Philadelphia and Palmyra, New Jersey, where my new office is located. The transportation was much more difficult than I had anticipated. I ended up finding a place with roommates in North East Philly, about five miles from the office. To get there using public transportation would take at least an hour and a half utilizing three different transportation systems (SEPTA, PATCO, and NJ Transit). Luckily, I've been able to car pool most of the time with roommates and coworkers. I'm also planning on moving over to Palmyra as soon as possible so I'll be able to walk to work.
I got to Philly the Thursday before I started my new job. Leeanne, one of my new roommates met me at the airport and then we met up with Sean, her boyfriend and my other housemate and went out for a very nice barbecue dinner. Yep. No cheese steaks to get in the Philly state of mind. We went straight to Famous Dave's BBQ (which also has a location in Kansas City).
I spent the rest of the weekend buying respectable clothes (since I've been living in flip flops, shorts, and silly T-shirts for the last 8 months), and taking wrong SEPTA busses into shady parts of town late at night. At one point, I actually decided it was a better bet to accept a ride from strangers than to continue occupying a particular street corner/bus stop. The couple had actually given me directions a little earlier as they waited for their Chinese takeout. Apparently, after thinking about where they had sent me, they decided they didn't want my fate on their collective conscience.
Friday marked the end of the first forty-hour work week I've ever spent in an office, and it really wasn't all that bad. I think I'm really going to enjoy learning everything about this business and then teaching others about what we do. It's been great having the mental stimulation and human interaction again.
I just re-read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being," by Milan Kundera. In the opening, he writes hypothetically about a concept attributed to Nietzsche called "eternal return" by which everything we do in our lives recurs ad infinitum.
"Putting it negatively, the myth of eternal return states that a life which disappears once and for all, which does not return is like a shadow, without weight, dead in advance, and whether it was horrible, beautiful, or sublime, its horror, sublimity, and beauty mean nothing...
If every second of our lives recurs an infinite number of times, we are nailed to eternity as Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross. It is a terrifying prospect. In the world of eternal return the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make. That is why Nietzsche called the idea of eternal return the heaviest of burdens...
The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant..."
I realized that Wes and Jess's recent marriage and home acquisition were heavy because from my perspective, our lives are our eternity, and committing yourself to doing the same thing every day is like creating a miniature eternal return. I also realized that I'd always assumed lightness to be the positive and heaviness the negative. I guess I've realized that's not necessarily the truth. I've always been "as free as I am insignificant," and I've realized that my friends are just embracing the positive aspects of heaviness and that there's nothing illusory or delusional about doing that.
I still don't think I could totally embrace heaviness, though, so I think I'm going to shoot for "buoyancy."
I got the news when I was in Kansas City helping my best friend, Wes, and his new wife, Jess, move into their new house. I couldn't be happier for them because I know that's what they've been working toward: the ultimate symbol of stability, comfort, and security. It's the American Dream, man! They've arrived! I have to say though, that all the "30 YEARS of payments" and "We're never moving again!" talk made my stomach flip!
It's so strange that even after my vagabondery and my newfound respect for having a home base, I still had that primal gut reaction. My instinct tells me that, under those circumstances, one necessarily limits their opportunity to experience new things and facilitates falling into a rut. Where did I get the perception that one moment a person makes that commitment and the next moment he wakes up elderly, wondering where life got off to and why he didn't experience all he'd wanted to? Why has it been my basic assumption that any security or stability is an illusion and that to embrace it is self delusion?
Three weeks ago, I flew to Philadelphia to interview for a sales position with a world renowned aviation safety consulting firm. In the week prior to the interview I had done everything I could think of to prepare. I studied the company website, re-read industry association websites, and wrote out and practiced answers to possible interview questions. I'd already had two phone interviews, but I figured this interview would go into still greater depth in order to make a final decision.
It wasn't more than two minutes after shaking hands with the CEO when he said, "Well, I wouldn't have brought you all the way out here if I wasn't pretty interested in bringing you on board, so if you're still interested, let's talk about money!" For some reason, that was the one question I hadn't prepared for! It hadn't even occurred to me that I might be offered the position on the spot, but we came to an agreement on salary and benefits and agreed that I'd start in two weeks.
I was really glad I'd gone to Kansas City earlier in the summer and sorted through all my stuff and moved everything that was worth keeping from mom's house to St. Louis. Having accomplished that, I was able to pack all of my earthly belongings into three rubbermaid tubs, three cardboard boxes, two duffel bags, a laptop bag, and a guitar case.
Since all that was more or less taken care of, I was able to spend the next two weeks searching Craigslist for a place to sleep in the Philadelphia area, selling my 20 year old car and my 4 month old laptop on eBay, and researching public transportation between Philadelphia and Palmyra, New Jersey, where my new office is located. The transportation was much more difficult than I had anticipated. I ended up finding a place with roommates in North East Philly, about five miles from the office. To get there using public transportation would take at least an hour and a half utilizing three different transportation systems (SEPTA, PATCO, and NJ Transit). Luckily, I've been able to car pool most of the time with roommates and coworkers. I'm also planning on moving over to Palmyra as soon as possible so I'll be able to walk to work.
I got to Philly the Thursday before I started my new job. Leeanne, one of my new roommates met me at the airport and then we met up with Sean, her boyfriend and my other housemate and went out for a very nice barbecue dinner. Yep. No cheese steaks to get in the Philly state of mind. We went straight to Famous Dave's BBQ (which also has a location in Kansas City).
I spent the rest of the weekend buying respectable clothes (since I've been living in flip flops, shorts, and silly T-shirts for the last 8 months), and taking wrong SEPTA busses into shady parts of town late at night. At one point, I actually decided it was a better bet to accept a ride from strangers than to continue occupying a particular street corner/bus stop. The couple had actually given me directions a little earlier as they waited for their Chinese takeout. Apparently, after thinking about where they had sent me, they decided they didn't want my fate on their collective conscience.
Friday marked the end of the first forty-hour work week I've ever spent in an office, and it really wasn't all that bad. I think I'm really going to enjoy learning everything about this business and then teaching others about what we do. It's been great having the mental stimulation and human interaction again.
I just re-read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being," by Milan Kundera. In the opening, he writes hypothetically about a concept attributed to Nietzsche called "eternal return" by which everything we do in our lives recurs ad infinitum.
"Putting it negatively, the myth of eternal return states that a life which disappears once and for all, which does not return is like a shadow, without weight, dead in advance, and whether it was horrible, beautiful, or sublime, its horror, sublimity, and beauty mean nothing...
If every second of our lives recurs an infinite number of times, we are nailed to eternity as Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross. It is a terrifying prospect. In the world of eternal return the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make. That is why Nietzsche called the idea of eternal return the heaviest of burdens...
The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant..."
I realized that Wes and Jess's recent marriage and home acquisition were heavy because from my perspective, our lives are our eternity, and committing yourself to doing the same thing every day is like creating a miniature eternal return. I also realized that I'd always assumed lightness to be the positive and heaviness the negative. I guess I've realized that's not necessarily the truth. I've always been "as free as I am insignificant," and I've realized that my friends are just embracing the positive aspects of heaviness and that there's nothing illusory or delusional about doing that.
I still don't think I could totally embrace heaviness, though, so I think I'm going to shoot for "buoyancy."
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
But They're All Hip
Howdy. I hope all is well with everyone. I’m still unemployed in St. Louis. Yesterday, I googled the airline whose hiring pool I supposedly occupy. In doing so, I discovered they have suspended flights in New Mexico because they haven’t been paid by one of the cities they service. Needless to say, I’m not expecting a call from them this week.
My ambitions have sort of turned a corner. I realized that I could manage a Kwik Shop and make more than what I would as a pilot for a regional airline. This epiphany was extremely liberating. I realized that I could do whatever I wanted and it wouldn’t affect my immediate financial situation in the slightest. What’s more, with my background in sales and aviation (not to mention accomplishments related to peripheral interests and hobbies), there are a lot of things I could do where I would earn significantly more than I would as a pilot. Also, if I ever want to go back to flying full time, I’ll be in exactly the same spot I am now: needing multi time. After obtaining the twin time, I’d be current again and ready to go. Frankly, I don’t miss flying every day. Sad to say, but it’s true.
One of the more larkish things I’ve done lately was to apply to be a delegate of the International Committee of the Red Cross. If by some miracle I were to be accepted, I would be responsible for interviewing prisoners of war and inspecting the prisons in which they are held. My friend, Erica, having heard of the gig by virtue of her being goddess of foreign affairs and general intellectual diva, encouraged me to apply. The only stated requirements are proficiency in French and English, willingness to travel, and passion for human rights.
Completing the application process was a fantastic reawakening of a version of myself that I had all but forgotten. In rewriting my resume to include all the warm fuzzy things I’ve done for others (had to dig a bit to remember those…) and in writing the “Why I Want To Be A Delegate” cover letter, I was forced to remember the version of me with foreign language and interpersonal skills; the version who thought maybe he could do something with a direct human impact.
Thus was born my humanitarian alter ego. That’s how I’ve taken to viewing myself; as a collection of identities, only one of which will survive. Who will it be? Adam the pilot? Adam the aerospace sales big shot? Adam the international humanitarian aid worker? Adam the guitar shop guy? Adam the barista? Adam the street musician?
It's as if each of these identities is one of Shrodinger's Cats, locked in an atomic death box (or a basement), alive and dead at the same time, until fate has made its choice and the box is opened.
My ambitions have sort of turned a corner. I realized that I could manage a Kwik Shop and make more than what I would as a pilot for a regional airline. This epiphany was extremely liberating. I realized that I could do whatever I wanted and it wouldn’t affect my immediate financial situation in the slightest. What’s more, with my background in sales and aviation (not to mention accomplishments related to peripheral interests and hobbies), there are a lot of things I could do where I would earn significantly more than I would as a pilot. Also, if I ever want to go back to flying full time, I’ll be in exactly the same spot I am now: needing multi time. After obtaining the twin time, I’d be current again and ready to go. Frankly, I don’t miss flying every day. Sad to say, but it’s true.
One of the more larkish things I’ve done lately was to apply to be a delegate of the International Committee of the Red Cross. If by some miracle I were to be accepted, I would be responsible for interviewing prisoners of war and inspecting the prisons in which they are held. My friend, Erica, having heard of the gig by virtue of her being goddess of foreign affairs and general intellectual diva, encouraged me to apply. The only stated requirements are proficiency in French and English, willingness to travel, and passion for human rights.
Completing the application process was a fantastic reawakening of a version of myself that I had all but forgotten. In rewriting my resume to include all the warm fuzzy things I’ve done for others (had to dig a bit to remember those…) and in writing the “Why I Want To Be A Delegate” cover letter, I was forced to remember the version of me with foreign language and interpersonal skills; the version who thought maybe he could do something with a direct human impact.
Thus was born my humanitarian alter ego. That’s how I’ve taken to viewing myself; as a collection of identities, only one of which will survive. Who will it be? Adam the pilot? Adam the aerospace sales big shot? Adam the international humanitarian aid worker? Adam the guitar shop guy? Adam the barista? Adam the street musician?
It's as if each of these identities is one of Shrodinger's Cats, locked in an atomic death box (or a basement), alive and dead at the same time, until fate has made its choice and the box is opened.
Monday, July 04, 2005
Culminations
Howdy. So all of my studying and simulator preparation was for naught with regards to Airnet. I totally choked on the simulator check. I won’t bore you with details of fire and twisted metal, but they didn’t waste any time in sending me an “I don’t even think we could train you after the way you flew that simulator!!” letter. I still can’t believe how badly it went. Maybe it was just delusions of grandeur, but I really thought I had prepared myself well. I mean, ALL I’d done for almost two weeks was study and prep in the simulator. I wouldn’t have hired me either, though. That’s the tough part. I know how poorly I performed. What a blow.
A day after returning from Ohio, glad to have the distraction from the Airnet debacle, I caught a flight to DFW. The principal reason for the trip was to go to Las Cruces, NM for another job interview, but my best friend, Todd and his wife Cynthia had just had a baby boy, in Fort Hood, TX and my friends Josh and Maria from Panther City Coffee in Fort Worth were getting married. So all things considered, Texas was the place to be last weekend!
Seeing the offspring of a lifelong friend could only be described as life altering. Little Richard (the baby, not the singer) was truly beautiful. All the clichés about babies came to my heart and mind as if I were the first one to think and feel them. All the potential I was holding in my arms! All the beautiful innocence of that child! He doesn’t know the difference between rich and poor, Republican and Democrat, gay and straight, or Christian and Muslim. He gave me hope.
After a couple of days of oogling the mini-Todd, I headed back up to Fort worth for the wedding. I should say that Josh and Maria are not your average couple. They are way cooler than average. And as such, their wedding was way cooler than average. I just saw an editorial in the paper today about how insane and commercialized weddings have gotten and I laughed. I laughed because I’d just been to a wedding that was beautiful not for the flower arrangements or the bridesmaids dresses or the country club reception, but for the evidence of the purest love that can exist between two people. Perhaps it was because the ceremony took place in the loft of a coffee shop, or because the groom was wearing flip flops that all there was to witness was the event of two people proclaiming their rock solid, eternal love for each other. And that was way more beautiful than some prefab fairy tale concoction. It gave me hope as well.
Soon after the wedding, I was off to the Las Cruces for my other interview. I was the only passenger on the flight (which was operated by the company with which I was about to interview) from Albuquerque to Las Cruces. The captain and FO were very friendly, and even gave me a headset so we could all chat en-route. After getting the low down from the pilots, I was actually still excited about the prospect of working there. Lots of pilots are grumpy and bitter, but these guys actually seemed to enjoy their jobs. In my view, that says a lot. The chief pilot, who would be conducting the interview, called up while we were cruising along and, not knowing that I had a headset, asked the captain to “feel [me] out.” He was speechless when informed that I was listening in, except to say that he would be arriving a couple hours after we would.
After traveling all day, and sitting around for a couple hours waiting at the airport, I finally met with Bill, the chief pilot at about 5:30 pm. The offices were in an un-air-conditioned hangar and subdivided by plastic sheeting and 2x2’s. I felt like I was in a military field hospital. I think he asked me three questions…
“Do I have your resume?”
“What Airplanes have you flown?” and,
“What are your career goals?”
It was the only job interview I’ve ever had where the interviewer groaned and took off his cowboy boots in the middle and asked me to step out so he could change clothes. It was really damned hot in that hangar, though.
After he changed and joined me in the lounge out by the swamp coolers, I asked a couple questions that hadn’t been answered by the pilots. He offered me the number six spot in their hiring pool, which means that they’re not hiring me right now, but as openings become available, I’ll supposedly be the sixth pilot they call.
Better than nothing, I guess.
A day after returning from Ohio, glad to have the distraction from the Airnet debacle, I caught a flight to DFW. The principal reason for the trip was to go to Las Cruces, NM for another job interview, but my best friend, Todd and his wife Cynthia had just had a baby boy, in Fort Hood, TX and my friends Josh and Maria from Panther City Coffee in Fort Worth were getting married. So all things considered, Texas was the place to be last weekend!
Seeing the offspring of a lifelong friend could only be described as life altering. Little Richard (the baby, not the singer) was truly beautiful. All the clichés about babies came to my heart and mind as if I were the first one to think and feel them. All the potential I was holding in my arms! All the beautiful innocence of that child! He doesn’t know the difference between rich and poor, Republican and Democrat, gay and straight, or Christian and Muslim. He gave me hope.
After a couple of days of oogling the mini-Todd, I headed back up to Fort worth for the wedding. I should say that Josh and Maria are not your average couple. They are way cooler than average. And as such, their wedding was way cooler than average. I just saw an editorial in the paper today about how insane and commercialized weddings have gotten and I laughed. I laughed because I’d just been to a wedding that was beautiful not for the flower arrangements or the bridesmaids dresses or the country club reception, but for the evidence of the purest love that can exist between two people. Perhaps it was because the ceremony took place in the loft of a coffee shop, or because the groom was wearing flip flops that all there was to witness was the event of two people proclaiming their rock solid, eternal love for each other. And that was way more beautiful than some prefab fairy tale concoction. It gave me hope as well.
Soon after the wedding, I was off to the Las Cruces for my other interview. I was the only passenger on the flight (which was operated by the company with which I was about to interview) from Albuquerque to Las Cruces. The captain and FO were very friendly, and even gave me a headset so we could all chat en-route. After getting the low down from the pilots, I was actually still excited about the prospect of working there. Lots of pilots are grumpy and bitter, but these guys actually seemed to enjoy their jobs. In my view, that says a lot. The chief pilot, who would be conducting the interview, called up while we were cruising along and, not knowing that I had a headset, asked the captain to “feel [me] out.” He was speechless when informed that I was listening in, except to say that he would be arriving a couple hours after we would.
After traveling all day, and sitting around for a couple hours waiting at the airport, I finally met with Bill, the chief pilot at about 5:30 pm. The offices were in an un-air-conditioned hangar and subdivided by plastic sheeting and 2x2’s. I felt like I was in a military field hospital. I think he asked me three questions…
“Do I have your resume?”
“What Airplanes have you flown?” and,
“What are your career goals?”
It was the only job interview I’ve ever had where the interviewer groaned and took off his cowboy boots in the middle and asked me to step out so he could change clothes. It was really damned hot in that hangar, though.
After he changed and joined me in the lounge out by the swamp coolers, I asked a couple questions that hadn’t been answered by the pilots. He offered me the number six spot in their hiring pool, which means that they’re not hiring me right now, but as openings become available, I’ll supposedly be the sixth pilot they call.
Better than nothing, I guess.
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