Sometimes, I do actually stop to smell the flowers.

This week will be the 6th in this 12-week internship, and I feel like things have just barely started. The last intern on my "team" or "project" arrived this Monday - the arrivals of all interns were staggered depending on when that particular intern's college started summer break. I started particularly early since I wasn't bound to any college, and I don't think any other project has such a wide spread of starting dates - but it has worked out well for us. I got the chance to immerse myself in the kind of data that I now am actually starting to analyze, before it started flying at me with the speed and volume of -- do elephants run quickly? If so, a herd of elephants. Maybe a few seconds in between, then I hear of another dataset where, if we process it in such a way, will end up being an Excel spreadsheet with 1.3 million rows - I almost wish I were kidding, but I'm not.

Don't worry, I don't have to tackle sets like that multiple times a day. They're usually followed by an email from the third intern, a programmer, who says "whoops, forgot to import them in columns, that'll be a ***** to organize - sorry about that! I'll have a better version in a moment."It's only his third day in, so he's not only doing what the rest of our team has been waiting for him to do (talk to this enormous database in the internet and get it to give us the information we want in a form we can process) but also has to understand all of the acronyms the rest of the team uses when we talk to each other, and then do all those first-week things -- get the stupid desk phone working, manage all of the passwords, find your way to the bathroom and lunch without managing to somehow go the least efficient way.

But since Monday, I swear, it's like we were building a rocket in the weeks leading up to this but I never saw the whole blueprint - I carried bits to the construction site, I hammered and sawed and welded just a bit (learning those things as I went) and then there was something on this launch pad but it was too big to see the top and it really wasn't perfectly finished yet. And then our last intern comes, and it's like there's sparks underneath the thing now - someone handed over the blueprint and not only that, but told us our destination --- and if I can continue with this preposterously dramatic analogy for just one second longer - I feel like it's my job to determine the flight path. One intern finishes the proper construction of our ship and makes sure the launch sequence operates properly, in the air and atmosphere it's my job to direct it, and the final intern makes sure that when we get to where we're going, we're in the right shape to land and report on our flight.

And given that I work for a company with such stringent security measures, I fear that's all I should say in this public form!

But quite a few things have happened this week.

1. I've learned what it feels like to try and fail, try and fail, try a much more complex approach and still fail and then have someone tell you that there's a better tool for what you want to do -- I didn't even feel silly or stupid when this happened. Rather, I felt relieved, because I had known there must be a way to do what I wanted. That being said, I don't know how to use that other tool yet (it's the statistical programming language R, with the ruthless and infamous learning curve), but I know it's there.

2. I was asked to be on a panel for a program that ViaSat hosted for schoolgirls going into 8th grade about women in mathematics and technology. When I got the email asking me, I almost jumped out of my chair, and I had a fantastic time talking to them. I can't believe I'm one of the people who gets to be on the stage at an event like that.

3. I've learned that there is so much data out in the world, in the cloud, in the whatever you want to call it right now. And I've learned that it is far, far easier to create data and store it in the cloud than to actually harness what you want and use it.

4. And, unfortunately, I hurt my hand during boxing. At least, I think it was in boxing. It's not the normal injury one would expect from a beginning person in a boxing class (I won't say boxer- I haven't hit anything except a bag yet, well, except for one other intern, but we were practicing various blocks so he knew exactly where I was going to hit him, so that doesn't count) - I haven't hurt my wrist or anything. I seem to have pulled a muscle right in the fleshy part of the hand, in the area between the thumb and middle finger (encompassing where the pointer finger meets the palm as well). It's an unfortunately pervasive injury - I can't do push-ups or downward-facing-dog because the pressing down of my hand on the ground causes it pain (and I could push through it, it's not excruciating, but I feel like it might get better if I don't piss it off more) -- but apparently, things that I never expected exert exactly that kind of pressure and tension in that hand. And it's my right hand. So, things like holding my phone in one hand to text, holding a carton of milk to pour it, twisting a key in a stiff lock, or wringing out a damn sponge! Ugh! It's been quite a few days and it hasn't gotten better - I'll have to figure something out.

And finally, tomorrow is the traditional (apparently) Carlsbad ViaSat Interns Beach Bonfire- in which much fun will be had, I am assured, and I (along with whichever other interns were silly enough to sign the waiver) will have a surfing lesson. I'll be sure to let you know how it goes.

A visualization of the week.

Chasing the sunset.

A beautiful surprise just above 10,000 ft outside Seattle.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Our flying time tonight will be a quick 5 hours and 45 minutes. “ Yeah, right.

Once again, I found myself in a long line of travelers – heads down, feet shuffling, moving like chained inmates in the cinema, we all hold our elbows in and misjudge the depth of our backpacks as we trundle down the airplane aisle. Trundle. I cannot think of a better word for that reluctant and simultaneously impatient gait. Some of us have been rather rudely parted from our carry-ons planeside, which we only brought as carry-ons to avoid the baggage fee which is moot at this point anyway, but the knowledge that our extra t-shirts and socks are under our feet rather than above our heads still rankles.

I’ve done a lot of flying this week with a lot of different airlines. (Now, I have to also say at this point before I launch into a bit of a ramble about ports and planes that I also had a positively splendid time with family in DC, family which I wasn’t expecting to get to see for a long time – a completely coincidental meeting and it was just lovely. I am so grateful that it happened!)

Back to what I was saying. Traveling in this world is an interesting beast. You have to give a lot up. Yes, on the one hand, we are miles and lightyears ahead of what used to be the case for this kind of travel – scurvy and occasionally being lost at sea, then broken wagon wheels and dying of rattlesnake bites in the middle of the desert (Oregon Trail, anyone?). But today’s traveling comes with its own idiosyncrasies.

Thing 1: We submit ourselves to a world completely controlled by capitalism when we travel. Sometimes, it comes right down to what I call “minor injustices” in my head (okay, a bit dramatic, but you’ll see) when we’re trapped in the traveling world. For example, to log on to the “free” wifi at several airports, you need to watch an add on your device in order to do so. If you mute the video, you cannot log on. Now, you can still let it play and look the other direction, but this forced entry into capitalism and materialism can hurt. (NOTE: Being without wifi is not cruel or inhumane. I do not mind being unconnected to wifi. I do think that whoever decided the forced consumption of an advertisement was a fair exchange for internet in an airport is a creepy and twisted individual.)

Another instance of this happened on one of my early flights when something was happening with the air circulation system on the plane and when I asked, I was informed that blankets were only available for purchase. Now, part of this is because the airlines as a whole are not doing well – but still. I imagine you could come up with a story if you had a shivering child and get a blanket without charge, but we shouldn’t have to stoop to that.

These are just some examples of the way in which one is trapped when one travels. In the world of the airport and airlines, you have to give in unless you are incredibly, incredibly prepared. I refer mainly here to airport food. The options are the only ones left to you. I felt like I was in a horror film these past few days, reading ingredient lists on things like pretzels and trail mix and feeling myself quake in my shoes at the partially-hydrogenated-corn-solids that are somehow necessary in RAISINS, not to mention what goes into yogurt or bread. Finding vegetables that are not iceberg lettuce is – well, let’s just say that I spent a lot of time in airports this week and I did not always succeed.

Sensory bombardment – whether it is billboards, posters, PA announcements or the blaring TVs in every terminal, we are assaulted while we travel with noise and agendas. It’s never been so obvious to me as it has been this week, since I have spent so much time in these places.

And interactions with people – you can tell my thoughts are all over the place this week. I’ve had a lot of time in my own head. My longest conversations have been while checking in to hotels. But strangers – we are so far apart fom our fellow human beings these days. So very, very far away. Hours and hours of sitting next to each other, and not a word. An awkward glance when someone has to go to the restroom and the rest have to stand up to let them go. And bad moods can spread like wildfire when there is rudeness (which there frequently is – because these are strangers, we’ll never see them again, why does it matter if we are rude to them?) – we simmer and grumble but never communicate.

Okay, humanity isn’t doomed and neither is the travel industry. It’s just the demand for service on the part of the consumer and the demand for profit on the part of the providers seems to be leading to more and more uncomfortable circumstances and interactions. I caught myself thinking yesterday “Imagine how many more people could fit in a plane if we made them stand? All the room those legs take up while sitting could be done away with…”

But then again, it has to be said that flight is one very cool thing that we have managed to do as humans. Last night when I got on that “short” five-and-a-bit hour flight from Washington, DC back to California, we boarded in the evening and I had a sudden flashback to the first flight that I ever remember consciously taking as a kid. It was a similar flight – from the East coast to the West, leaving in the evening. And I remember thinking then that we were “chasing the sunset”—which you do. The sun is setting in the west and you fly towards it, extending that beautiful red sky for longer than you ever normally get to see it. We’re still not fast enough, of course, and time passes as you fly so eventually the sun does set, but that visual and the words describing it stayed in my head all of these years.

Practice Rooms and Planes

So, this afternoon, I went with my Aunt to an event at a local music center - where children and adults alike can go for individual lessons, to play in ensembles, and sometimes to perform! Today was an event where the local jazz group played while a local painter got the chance to display some of his work around the music center. We were mostly there in an organizational and helping capacity, but I did get to wander around the center just a bit.

I kept being reminded of the music building at Mills - without a doubt, one of the prettiest buildings on an already stunning campus. But that building was the kind of pretty that comes with elegance, some grandeur - a big auditorium with paintings all around, curvy railings and beautiful seats, and the entryway had a vaulted ceiling and beautiful stone floors. An elegant building. One semester, I had a class there, which in addition to the coursework meant that I got the chance to walk through that building.

In addition to the grand auditorium, this building has hallways and hallways snaking around filled with small practice rooms. I remember practice rooms from way back to my days in Meadville, at the Allegheny College Music Festival - back when I played the saxophone. And the idea of practice rooms has always made me -- well, happy. A room whose only purpose is to provide a space just for you- a place designed for you to go and work to get better at something. Where it's okay to sound terrible, because if you didn't, you wouldn't need to practice. You can go in there alone, no need for a lesson, and just play, or sing, or compose. It's the office of the musician, I suppose. And for some reason, even though everyone tells us it's okay not to be good at things when you first try them, it seems like music is one situation when practicing is simply an obvious (and important) thing to do. Maybe it's because when we talk about other fields like math or theater, we don't say 'practice' - we say 'homework' or 'rehearsal'. I don't know if this idea of it being okay to need practice means anything to anyone else, but to me, it always has been important and practice rooms are a representation of it, and I think they are fantastic because of that.

In addition, as I was watching a timid flute player attempt a solo during the jazz performance tonight, I remembered my own forays into improvisational solos back in high school and I remember when it was time to play that I was overcome with such nervousness --- and you know what I was nervous about? That if I played, I might be heard. I was PLAYING AN INSTRUMENT and worried I was going to be heard. I still frequently feel that way when I sing. How does that make any sense???

Oh, well. We're all a little crazy, aren't we?

Speaking of crazy, I will be flying again this week. To several states around the country. I have tests to run on the wifi while I'm on my planes and work to do for my internship once those tests are over - and in between, I get to travel. Traveling by myself - travel for business, as they say, except where the business is when you are on the plane, not when you get there. It'll be an experience, for sure.