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The following is a post from one of my favorite people I have met since moving to Texas. Joel is a great guy who is definitely going to great places. He recently accepted a position working in China, and I’ve asked him to contribute to Trina Left Iowa with his experiences. He is another Midwesterner [...] Most people imagine the life of a travelling associate is a glamorous one. Although there are perks, it is far from attractive a lot of the time. Dragging a controversially large carry-on suitcase around an airport at 5:30 on Monday mornings, sitting in an oddly-smelling rental car in Humidville, FL, eating overly-priced, mediocre room service [...] Many of us have lived a life with minimal risk. It is in this riskless lifestyle where we create comfort zones allowing us to continue on in a steady state of happiness. Others of us have shattered our comfort zones by taking major risks, such as moving to Colorado or traveling abroad, as soon as we were able. My life up to my twenties was mostly lived in my comfort zone: Iowa. I was born and raised in Ida Grove, IA (Northwestern Iowa). Although it was small with only 2,350 people and one stoplight, Ida Grove was a truly blissful place to grow up. I was among life-long family friends, close to a majority of both sides of my family, able to roam the streets on my bike at all hours and felt very safe—the only crimes I can remember were drug related and rare. My parents were happily married and both had steady, full-time employment. Life was grand. Lately I have been stressed for unknown reasons. I can’t quite pinpoint what exactly is bothering me but something sure is… I’ve been wound up a little more than usual – yes, it is possible for me to be even crazier than my normal, baseline state. My attempts to calm down and relax have been unsuccessful as I’ve been on the go-go lately: a week in Fort Lauderdale for work, a wedding in Houston, a work week in Dallas, another wedding in Houston, etc. I knew some time with my family was what I needed, because I find spending time with people who get you down to your core is an amazing way to refocus and re-center. This Saturday I boarded a plane to Omaha to spend a week at my parent’s house in my hometown. It has been almost 9 months since I’ve been home (a reality I accepted when I left two years ago). There are a few certainties in the summer months: BBQs, blockbuster movies, tan lines, humidity and, of course, weddings. My earlier Iowan summers were filled with family cookouts at Lake Okoboji, endless days at the city pool achieving horrid tan lines, sticky nights up to no good in tall cornfields and the traditional exchange of nuptials between two Christian Midwesterners. This summer I’ve managed to take in all the aforementioned certainties in the form of hot dogs, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, wicked Texas-induced tan lines, makeup-melting sweats (myth buster: Dallas has humidity!) and two of the most wonderfully unique weddings I’ve ever attended. Two August 2009 weekend road trips brought me to steamy Houston, TX for an Americanized Nigerian wedding and a traditional Indian wedding. I had no idea what to expect other than cake and some shameless dancing where others look on in horror. I went in with an open mind, and each one presented me with a different perspective on weddings, love, traditions and the union of two people ready to officially start their lives together. WEDDING #2… There are a few certainties in the summer months: BBQs, blockbuster movies, tan lines, humidity and, of course, weddings. My earlier Iowan summers were filled with family cookouts at Lake Okoboji, endless days at the city pool achieving horrid tan lines, sticky nights up to no good in tall cornfields and the traditional exchange of nuptials between two Christian Midwesterners. This summer I’ve managed to take in all the aforementioned certainties in the form of hot dogs, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, wicked Texas-induced tan lines, makeup-melting sweats (myth buster: Dallas has humidity!) and two of the most wonderfully unique weddings I’ve ever attended. Two August 2009 weekend road trips brought me to steamy Houston, TX for an Americanized Nigerian wedding and a traditional Indian wedding. I had no idea what to expect other than cake and some shameless dancing where others look on in horror. I went in with an open mind, and each one presented me with a different perspective on weddings, love, traditions and the union of two people ready to officially start their lives together. This post is one that I wrote for Leading Associates in February 2009. I’m proud of the posts I wrote for LA, and I wanted to include them here at Trina Left Iowa. Note: this dating venture was an experiment during a time when Irish Boyfriend and I weren’t together. Right now I am in this fabulous life stage: I’m educated, single, emancipated from my parents, employed, full of life, cute (I have to give myself some credit), and blessed with a derriere that rivals JLO and Kim Kardashian (I’m learning to embrace rather than hate it). This is the time when I am supposed to be dating these great guys and going out for cosmopolitans with my fabulous girlfriends. Instead, I find myself going through the same routines and doing unglamorous things like drinking wine alone and watching the BBC Pride and Prejudice miniseries (I nearly tackled the delivery guy when it arrived from Amazon). Where do the cute boys and dates come in? We live in a world that teaches us from the beginning not to talk to strangers, and it’s not shocking that when we get older we have trust issues with our fellow humans. I am usually skeptical of every other person around me and hope they won’t try to rob or sexually assault me (that might be the scared little small-town girl inside of me). Then there are the times where you let your guard down, and some jerk store takes advantage of you – that’s right, you know who you are car fixer guy in Woonsocket, RI. On the flip side, I find it hard to trust the people I work with on a daily basis. It seems like everyone has some sort of anti-you agenda, and this planet is every man for his/herself. That is why when I boarded my plane last night from Fort Lauderdale to Dallas I had every intention of sitting down, writing a superb LA article I had promised to Dan (hadn’t a clue what to write) and not talking to any strangers. Enter: adorable 30-something Texan blonde woman. She started talking to me about how she was a little nervous about flying. It seemed harmless enough, so I chatted to her about pretty surface level topics (weather, flying, why we were both in town, etc). After all, I couldn’t start my article during taxiing anyways, right? Most people imagine the life of a travelling associate is a glamorous one. Although there are perks, it is pretty far from attractive a lot of the time. Dragging a controversially large carry-on suitcase around an airport at 5:30 on Monday mornings, sitting in an oddly-smelling rental car in Humidville, FL, eating overly-priced, mediocre room service by yourself, working long hours and spending several hours of your week sitting next to strangers on an MD-80 airplane is reality. In college, free food was like gold. The promise of free pizza caused college students to sign up for credit cards, attend meetings for organizations they didn’t care about and show up to sorority functions (this one I know about personally). Even though I have had a steady paycheck for over a year now, I still get excited at the promise of free food. For traveling I was told that I had approximately $40 per day (or whatever was within reason) to spend on food which caused feelings of extreme joy. I thought I could eat like a king and drink Starbucks every day with that amount of money. I found myself saying things like, “Make that a grande instead of tall…of course I’ll have dessert…I’ll take the one with sprinkles and glaze…I can’t take that home so I’d better eat it.” The early mornings in the airports and late nights at the client sites also led me to make poor decisions. I was going out to eat every night, having a few drinks with dinner, not exercising and running on little sleep. Like a fool I was hoping my metabolism would ramp up and my hips would be immune to airport fast food. Not too surprisingly, I was wrong. |
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