Jetsam

painted desertI find myself on a plane, more random even than usual, as I am often wont to be on planes.

I am on my way to the desert for a business session — one week of intensive training in business acumen, personal growth, industry simulations, Lord only know what else. I’ve been up since too early, after weeks of working too late. I’ve met a pilot on one flight, a mom with nearly-one-year-old in tow on the other: interesting conversations and the trading of whatever is edible in the airline food. I’ve finished the assigned reading – most of which I had read ahead of time anyway – and reread the book that is rumored to be most important. I’ve identified followup items to look up online tonight in preparation for the meeting, and already received a panicked email from the team taking over my responsibilities. This is all part of the fun, I tell myself.

By the time I return to work next week, I will have reached my five-year mark with the company. It’s not a milestone I expected to reach (and of course I still may not, the economy being what it is). Not that I’m opposed to staying long-term in one place. Early in my career I managed to outlast the industry standard three times over.  But THIS business…  I’m not sure where I could go next to continue my trend toward ever less “sexy” industries. Which is not a quip, I think, that my colleagues would appreciate as much as I do.

Five years already. Time passes. God is good. Life is good. The company is good, and they have honored me again by inviting me to learn more. So I am on this plane, thinking my random thoughts. Wondering about tomorrow, wondering about yesterday. Clouds drift outside the window; strange that I perceive myself as sitting still, but in fact I am moving more than they are.

I wonder, I wonder – about many things – but in the end it’s all just one more letter written and unsent. So much nothing to say. So many questions without answers. So much jetsam to my usual flotsam.

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~ by lorakceel on October 19, 2010.

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