work...work...work

The past two weeks here at TSA have been a whirlwind...my days have consisted of perusing/reading huge documents (so I know exactly what it is we do here at air cargo), writing response letters to stakeholders (so they know what we are doing here at air cargo), and writing an article for an internal newsletter (so the rest of TSA knows what we are doing at air cargo)....and this is all coming from a girl who started a week ago and has no clue if anything she is saying, writing, or explaining, makes any damn sense. But, it is all part of the learning process and I can say that I have learned more here in the last 2 weeks than I did at any of my other jobs over the past year. Most people in the program I was hired through really do not have much to do...either their supervisor's did not prepare adequate work for them to do or maybe they are easing them into the process a bit because they are new to the government/TSA. My boss, on the other hand, tasked me with a response letter and article within my first few days, before I even knew what it is that we do here. I am not one to shy away from a challenge, but I'd have a nose bigger than Pinocchio if I don't say I was scared out of my mind at the same time. Somehow, I seem to have survived the past week with a successful response letter and article that, unbeknownst to me, will be published in the newsletter with my by-line. Awesome! So yes, the writing here may be a little dry and highly formatted, but it's writing nonetheless and I cannot be more thankful that I have this opportunity! Oh, and seeing as though I am now a "city girl" I have turned into a headphone-wearing, bus/metro-riding, business clothes-wearing, book reading commuter, who may look like she has her life together, but is really still just taking it a day at a time and trying to smile every once and again.

First Day Jitters

After leaving California, my first day of work at TSA was not for at least another month. It was this date in the near future that never seemed to concern me until I actually got settled in D.C. I guess a couple weeks of worry-free vacation time made me forget about the real reason I moved...starting a so-called 'career.' August 17th, 2009 was the day it was all to begin. I spent the week prior running around to way too many stores trying to find appropriate business attire...if only jeans and t-shirts made the cut like they did at Sony. Business clothes are just soooo boring, but I had to suck it up and get them anyways. And wouldn't you know it that the night before I was to start, I still wasn't happy with anything. Never satisfied I guess. And then the worrying began... I have this tendency to worry about things in silence. To anyone else I may just seem a little quieter than usual, but I am actually fighting the internal demons who bring about thoughts of failure and inadequacy. I do not know why I worry so much but I have been this way for as long as I can remember...it's stupid and does absolutely no good, yet I simply can't help it. I actually thought I was doing alright before starting this new job but then Sunday the 16th came around, and all I could do was worry. Do I actually know what I was worried about? Of course not...but nonetheless, the random thoughts fluttering around allowed me to get a whole 1/2 hour of sleep!!! I am fortunate though, that when I'm nervous, all other senses go out the window or else I would have realized that I was truly, ridiculously tired. And was there a point to all this worrying? No justification whatsoever seeing as though I sat through a group orientation that day and had the arduous task of filling out paperwork. Definitely something to stress over...haha. And it's times like these where I actually stop and think and wonder why my brain works the way it does. Because honestly... if I just stopped worrying, went with the flow, allowed myself to sleep for at least an hour, went in with "whatever happens, happens" attitude, and smiled...I would probably have a little less stress in my life. But hey...Rome wasn't built in a day... Until later...it's a work in progress...

Secret Spot

After high school I could not wait to get out of Half Moon Bay...too much drama for such a small town. I think we needed time apart for me to truly appreciate its true beauty. Obviously, it was always beautiful to me, but sometimes I would forget that just walking down to the beach and watching the waves can be more calming than a bubble bath with Enya playing in the background (who does that?)... anywho...I honestly think HMB was trying to convince me to stay in Cali because I have never seen so many gorgeous days in such a short amount of time there. I swear, we were at the beach almost every weekend working on our tans (and no, for once, it wasn't a fog burn). And by we, I'm talking about the best of the best, Rachel and Caitlen and on occasion Downing and Kelly. (And I know the above pic isn't from secret spot...but it's us at the beach, so it counts haha) So many Saturday and Sunday mornings where the sun would shine bright through my window and wake me up around 7am. Normally, I'd go back to sleep, but these days were too good to pass up! There is something about gathering up some food and drinks, hopping on your beach cruiser and heading down the coastal trail to the secret spot that brings a smile to my face...especially now that the closest body of water to me right now is the Potomoc River. Great tunes, great friends, a totally relaxing environment, sun shining and freezing water that we sometimes ventured in to...a perfect day! Except for the damn red crabs...tiny little guys about the size of ants that climb over EVERYTHING! I swear I would get home and two hours later I would find a red crab climbing out of my backpack or something. Tricky little bastards... The last week I was in Half Moon Bay I tried to be outside as much as I possibly could...and it didn't disappoint. I was already bummed about leaving all my friends, and here was HMB just taunting me with beautiful sunny days and amazing sunsets that I could enjoy from a bench on the bluff with a glass of wine. At least I know that I will not be in D.C. forever and that HMB will be waiting...just as the bank of fog sits patiently off the shore.

Up until now...

Quick run-down of the last year or so...take a deep breath... I graduated from the University of Denver in June of 2008 after having a fantastic senior year with some of the best friends a girl could ever ask for...and a liver that wanted to kill me. Needless to say, we got really good a flip-cup, beer pong and making giant batches of "Hop, Skip and Go Naked". Denver was a great time to spend my college years and I have never regretted leaving Santa Barbara to go there...although I did miss the ocean. The mountains were a nice trade-off though and I could never get over how blue the sky gets in Denver...definitely trumps the fog in HMB. However, I did move back to Half Moon Bay shortly after graduation and had great plans with a few of my friends to live in my house (since my parents have uprooted to Washington D.C.). But recent grads have no idea what to expect after graduation and the grand plan fell through...leaving me alone in my big house with Libby (the dog). That left for a lot time to think...and think...and think...because let's face it, Libby is not really one for converstaion. The summer was great while friends were still around, but once fall came around, and they all went back to school, it just sucked...not gonna lie. During this time, I started working at EA part-time...8-12 everyday felt like so much work. I was obviously such a highly ambitious post-grad...my parents must have been so proud that they put me through private university. So a few months went by and that's basically all they did...until another grand plan came into fruition in the middle of October to move to LA with a friend of mine. I wanted to live the Hollywood dream...start at the bottom and one day become a famous screenwriter who not only made a decent living, but made a difference with her profoundly moving films. With all these thoughts swimming around in my head, you would think it would be easy to write something but it proved to be much harder than that. I moved in with my Nana (it was only supposed to be for a few weeks) and the horrible economy made it impossible for me and my friend to find decent jobs. I got a great unpaid internship at a small development and production company where I got to read tons of scripts and offer my opinions. I learned a ton from the guys I worked with and almost felt bad that here I was, a recent graduate, choosing which screenplays were crap and which ones I thought were pretty decent. I would be horrified if I wrote something and somebody my age, with no credibility, decided my writing was terrible. While I loved what I was doing, the hour and a half commute to LA was so not worth it, and being an intern really loses its charm after a few months. Plus, I came to realize that this dream I had of making it big in LA was just that...a dream...based on material goals and naive notions. To a certain extent, you have to be truly "hard" to make it anywhere in the industry...cut-throat and ruthless. I can be hard sometimes, and I could have learned to fit the Hollywood mold, but I didn't want it. I didn't want to get ahead in life by being a jerk...that didn't seem like a good recipe for happiness. Let's face it, the transition after college is a challenging one and mine was no exception. I had an unpaid internship, had no friends where I was living, oh and lived with my nana. How awesome was I? Moving on...in February 2009, I moved up to Half Moon Bay again where my friend Kelly and her family so graciously accepted me into their home so I could try to find a job and spend some time with my friends. This honestly saved me...helped me regain my sanity after 7 months of soul-searching. Being unemployed for a while sucked, but I was surrounded by my oldest and dearest friends and nothing can replace that. I finally got a job at Sony in the middle of March which consisted of some really fun people, a lot computer work and little brain function. But who was I to complain? I had a job, I had my friends, I was getting healthy and working out and I was generally content for the first time in a really long time. But, I knew that I couldn't stay with Kelly's family forever and my job really wasn't going to go anywhere towards a real career path. This is where the TSA Career Resident Program comes in. My Dad started working for TSA in 2007 and he told me to apply for this program as it was for recent college graduates looking to start a career in the government. At first I thought it was not for me, plus my Dad works there and fear of nepotism was holding me back. But the opportunity sounded very unique, so I applied for the hell of it. I didn't think it was going to lead to anything. However, I made it to the round of interviews out in D.C. and after 3 days, I never wanted to talk about myself ever again...embellishment and B.S. can now be added to my resume...I ended up getting a position doing Stakeholder Relations for the Transportation Sector Network Management division of TSA. Or...since the government loves acronyms so much...I work in for DHS at TSA in TSNM. I'll learn eventually.... I was so torn because the woman who would be my boss is awesome, ridiculously smart, funny and would teach me so much, but this position was also a lot closer to my Dad than I would have liked. In the end, I decided that my career should outweigh any fears about people thinking I only got the position because my Dad works there. They can think what they like, but I know I am smart and capable and will have a lot to prove. Plus, I desperately wanted to use my brain again...I missed school and learning and being challenged, and I knew I would get that at TSA...or so I hoped. So I took the job and went through the somewhat arduous process of background checks, drug tests, and paperwork...and finally had a few freak-outs (to say the least) when I realized that I was officially moving to Washington D.C...

It's probably about time...

Honestly, anyone who knows me even a little bit has probably seen the stacks of journals in my room that I have been filling with my random musings since I purchased my first one in middle school. What started as the playful, innocent, and naive thoughts of a thorougly confused 13-year-old are now compared to the deep, mature, contemplative, and downright way too serious thoughts of a seemingly just as confused 23-year old. I am a writer at heart, not always a good one, but it has always seemed like the easiest way for me to express my emotions. However, I am one of those stubborn writers who likes to think that my thoughts are private...until now I guess. Do I assume that anyone wants to read my thoughts on life? No...but I figure that if I can keep myself entertained by what I write, maybe someone else will get a laugh or two as well. Writing is therapeutic for me and I can only hope that my thoughts and experiences can help someone else, even if that just means bringing a smile to their face because they realized that an incident in my life made their life seem a whole hell of a lot better.