Like anyone else with a vivid imagination, I tend to find connections with various characters in films that I see. As children playing with friends after school, which one of us was Luke, or Leia, or Han Solo (or an ewok, for that matter)? I have always favored films by John Cusack and Colin Firth (the earlier stuff), as I always felt something in common with the characters those actors have portrayed. This does not mean that I went through junior high thinking I needed to ski the K-12 or anything like that.
After watching St. Elmo's Fire last weekend, though, I did spend a couple of days thinking about post college and the challenges we all faced as we acclimated ourselves to the "real world." Interesting how people you never expected to amount to much became stellar people, and likewise, folks that always seemed on top of things back in school have had less than pleasant times.
I have to assume that when we find outselves in self thought, or even self doubt, we sometimes seek a pick me up in the form of a film, typically one that we already know (sometimes not, I suppose), just we know we will be able to identify with a character, and see things which provide us a it of reassurance.
Sure, we have the ability to sort of manipulate this sensation, and tend to select a movie where we believe we are guaranteed to find something reassuring. At festive family gatherings (ie Thanksgiving, or Christmas Eve), I doubt seriously that anyone is saying, "Hey, who feels like watching Schindler's List or The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo?"
Let me be quick to point out that I am not suggesting that we try to live our lives along to a movie script, I am simply saying that with stories (music, too) we often find things that we can relate to. And we want that in our lives.
Sometimes, though, we find ourselves seemingly caught on the back foot, as the events of daily life suddenly remind you of a specific character or story. This happened to me this past week as I commuted daily to my office in Düsseldorf. Monday morning, I was singing to myself ("Heigh-Ho, Heigh-ho, It's off to work we go,"), feeling a bit tired from the emotional end to the weekend.
The commute to Düsseldorf takes about 90 minutes, but because the train is busy (with other commuters), I was unable to get a reserved seat, so went to the bistro and had a coffee and read a book. After two months on the job, I was actually going to my "office" for the very first time. Sure, I was a little anxious, partly because I wasn't too clear on how to get to the office, and furthermore, did not really know what to expect. This particular office is primarily a location for a different division of the company. The work done there would not have too much to do with me, and visa versa.
I managed to find the office without too much trouble, and felt a little bashful as the office manager showed me around. There were not too many other workers there, which I found a bit strange, but I was told that that was normal, usually most people were there Tuesday through Thursday, working from home (or commuting) on Mondays and Fridays.
My two primary German colleagues were both travelling on Monday, so neither was in the office with me. I felt a bit awkward sitting there in a rather empty office. Of the other three people there, one made a bit of chit chat with me, asking who I was and what my function was in the company. I struggled to explain, fumbling a bit for words, not really because the conversation was in German, more so because I was still trying to get settled. I always need a few moments (hours, or days...) to reach my comfort level. It goes without saying that this early in the new job, I am still searching for my daily routine, wherever, whenever, however. Each day is more comfortable, but actually going to my office for the first time was a bit new.
The day went ok, and around 6pm I took a train back to Frankfurt. Ideally, I will plan to stay in Düsseldort during the work week (when not travelling), but due to a Messe, there were no hotels available. Fortunately, the one way commute is not too terribly long, and I was able to get a bit of work done. However, I was a little tired, a bit sleepy. Upon arriving in Frankfurt, I ate a quick dinner, then went home to bed.
Tuesday was a repeat of Monday, with the bonus of better knowing the public transportation routine, making the transfer from the train platform to the U-Bahn without incident. (The previous day, I had felt a bit of a dope, as I stood around in the middle of the train station, getting in everyones way as I tried to find my bearings. I tend to be selfconscious about that kind of thing, and it is not as if I am a dwarf or anything, right?)
On the way home on Tuesday evening, I saw a guy who had been on the same homeward journey the previous day. On the U-Bahn in Frankfurt, we exchanged a few words, finding out that both of us had the commonn situation of living in one city and working in another. Both of us travel, so there is no pressing need to relocate; commuting is sufficient.
I was feeling a bit grumpy on Wednesday morning, not to mention sleepy, dopey, and bashful, and was a bit concerned about my mood. For most of the weekend and early days of the week, I was struggling with the question, "why is everything so strange, is there something wrong with me?" as I tried to cope with various things in my life. Am I making the right decisions, am I doing the right things? I suppose we all ask ourselves these questions regularly, but maybe not all of us do this while sipping a latte on a train coach, slowly realizing that we seem to be caught up in a Disney film.
However, I took the time to reflect, and as I seem to do so well, at least for myself, confirmed for myself that I am on the right path (and thank goodness the right train!), and got through the workday in decent fashion. I was very glad that I had arranged to work from home the rest of the week, on account that my parents would be arriving the following morning. I decided to take an earlier train back to Frankfurt, and was pleased to find the bistro not so full.
A man was at the table across from me, constantly looking at his smartphone (just as I was). He made a few business calls, and I noticed that he spoke German well enough, but like me, was not native. I tried to ignore him, but kept glancing over, as he spoke somewhat loudly, and I couldn't help thinking that perrhaps my own German accent sounds a bit like his. I don't really know.
He was a fairly big man, so his voice was fitting. Big guy, big voice. A few minutes later I was startled from the magazine that I was reading with "Achoo achoo achoo!"
At first, I looked around, wondering if there was a baby hamster on board. The noise I had heard was very dinky and strange.
The man was pulling out his handkerchief, and I bit my tongue, refraining from making a rude comment out loud.
Way to go, Sneezy.
We arrived in Frankfurt soon after, and I bumped into an old Kumpel on the platform. He lives in Stuttgart and commutes to Frankfurt regularly; an old drinking buddy from the pub.
Later, I ran into another friend that I hadn't seen since the beginning of the new year, and we caught up over a few beers. A nice way to finish the day.
Well, the rest of the week has been pretty good. At the very least, I can be happy with the fact that I accept how things are.
Now, I have got to run off to the DVD shop and hopefully find something that will help me get the silly song out of my head.
Heigh-Ho, Heigh-Ho.
keep the faith
bryan
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