Time To Retire

I have a countdown on my computer. Currently, it says 414 days until I retire. And I remember a time when that number was over double that ... not all that long ago. 

As the weeks and months wind down toward that magical date, I am working hard at keeping my stress in check, because that day also marks for me a day when I can devote more time toward my second career. From the looks of the way things are going right now, that second career may be starting only eight short months after that.  

Free Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

And then I might have more say over when I take days off, or how much (or little) I work. I will be able to schedule time for things that - until then - will have been on hold for a very long time. Too long, actually. Horseback riding, golfing, traveling for fun, reading for pleasure, and (best of all) spending time with family and friends will all be possible again. That's the dream, at least. I've missed all of those things, and those who know love me have been very patient with me. VERY. PATIENT. Sometimes I am not sure how they put up with me always looking to dive into my next assignment for school, or with me having to work when their schedule frees up time for them, or with me nodding off when we do occasionally have a visit. What amazing people I have in my life!

It's getting within sight now, this finish line. But it's not really a finish line ... it's more of a starting line where I can walk (or ride, haha) and not run. That will be nice!! 

In the meantime, I need to remind myself frequently that it is time to retire: that is, it is time to schedule regular rest stops on my journey. I have been going at such a break-neck pace, especially since 2013, that burnout is never very far off, and perhaps I need to slow down a bit more. Sometimes, it takes the harsh reality of circumstance to bring me to that place of rest and re-creation.  I hope that I can learn to take the hint sooner rather than later that I need to make time for me and for the things (and people) that/who are important to me. I'm not thirty anymore. Nearly twice that now!!  I need to cut myself some slack!! 

I am so grateful for the ones who know me best and who love me anyway, who take the time to gently suggest that I take the time to look after myself and not run myself ragged. Such friends are hard to come by; I am very blessed to have more than one. 

So - in this time between semesters, I may be looking to reconnect with a few people, and take the time to do things that I like doing. After all, I am the only me that I have. :) 

Musings from Above the Clouds

(*I initially wrote this post on the plane on July 16, 2019.*) 

So here I am at 34,000 feet somewhere over Manitoba, on my way to Calgary to participate in a 5-day intensive, face-to-face training in Solution Focused Brief Therapy. My classmates are all gathering there, as is my professor, and my first order of business will be to get from the airport to the place where I will be staying – a fifty-dollar taxi ride. Friends have advised me to download UBER to my phone so I have done that. That turns the $50 into something like $30. Not bad! Plus, you pre-pay so there’s no meter running in rush hour traffic, a bonus for me!

I also choose not to avail myself of the Internet on the flight because it costs. So, I am doing this blog off-line, and because I am using a new laptop, I will have to wait until I get back home to upload it. 

Oh well. At least it gives me something to do.

My university is virtual, so it contracts with other places to provide space for their students’ face-to-face requirements. My destination in Calgary is one I’ve stayed at twice before; it is a lovely place with rolling gentle hills, and a garden with a man-made waterfall next to a gazebo. The last time I was there, two years ago, I thought I would not be visiting it again. However, as it turns out, this special studies course became available with a summer institute at the same campus and … here I am, sitting on an ever-increasingly numb bottom and trying to keep my mind active! 

The challenges of traveling to a university campus, three thousand miles away and three thousand feet higher than I’m used to, were daunting at first. But this is something I have done twice before, and I am getting to know how to navigate the airports, taxis, and so forth. I am even thinking of trying out the transit system to shop for groceries! In the meantime, I am saving airplane food to tide me over until I get to a store. As Crocodile Dundee said, “Well, you can live on it, but it tastes like s#*t.”

Image free from Pexels.com

My mind is flitting all over the place as the plane speeds at 550 miles per hour. I wonder what I will learn and whether I will do well at this type of therapy I’m studying in this course, I wonder whether I will like my fellow-students (probably), and I cannot help thinking about my youngest daughter, who passed away almost 6 years ago now. Today, July 16, 2019, would have been her 27^th birthday. She is proud of me for getting my degree, I am sure of it. And I’m only a little over a year away from getting my parchment! But today, my thoughts keep returning to how much I would love to feel her arms around me in one of her big bear hugs, when she’d lift me off the floor – no small feat – in her go-big-or-go-home way. She is my inspiration for continuing this journey.

It’s been a journey for sure, these last few years working toward a career in counselling while finishing up my current career in the federal public service. Working for Canadians behind the scenes has enhanced my desire to help people and to see the good that I do, so I look forward to being able to do that in person after I graduate! Moreover, it’s been a journey in the sense of personal growth. I have learned so much about myself, good and not so good, and I’m working on the not so good parts. I have found an amazing therapist and she and I are working through some family-of-origin issues together. I am so thankful for her kindness and her faith in me. 

I would have given up in discouragement long ago, if not for the support and love my husband and daughter have shown me. They take up the slack, run errands, share in the cooking and cleaning, and tell me on a regular basis that I will nail this and be a great counselor! What a great blessing they both are! 

My friends and colleagues also have been nothing but supportive. Aside from one close friend who told me I would have to grow a thick skin (haha, he knows me well!) everyone has been amazing. My sensitivity to people’s feelings has stood me in good stead so far, and I have learned how to take constructive criticism and also to recognize when someone is being domineering. I’m learning how to stand up for myself without getting angry and flustered. I have learned simple tasks I never learned as a child: how to apologize, how to make conversation with people, and how to accept people who are different from me and who hold different views than I do. Those are important lessons, learned (as usual) the hard way. The road has been steep at times. However, I think I am beginning to come into my own, as they say. Confidence is starting to grow again, and I trust that it will do so even more as I get closer to graduation! 

As I look past the next hurdle (passing this course!) and to September, I realize that my first day of my 8-month practicum is only a little over seven weeks away, and I am both eager and nervous to start it! I think, though, that the nervousness is only natural, given that there is a great big “unknown” out there in practicum-land. I’ll be working three days a week (unpaid of course) as a counseling intern at a local church. That in itself does not seem strange, but I must chuckle at the irony of me having a practicum at a church, when I left the formalized church five years ago and have been pursuing fellowship with other believers on an individual basis (not in a church building) ever since, no looking back. So, part of the situation feels a little weird. The other thing is that my supervisor is an external supervisor to meet the requirements of the university (a Master’s degree in a counseling-related field with at least four years of post-Master’s experience in counseling) as there is no one at the church who meets those requirements. And to top it all off, she self-identifies as an agnostic … and the majority of my clients will be church people! (Oh yeah, the Almighty has a really cute sense of humor!) That said, neither she nor the pastor have expressed any hesitation about working with each other (or with me) for my benefit. Bonus! 

At the same time, starting in September, I will also be working two days a week at my job. It will be … interesting juggling the two.  It will definitely be a charged schedule, as I also take a practicum course (with readings and homework and all that) during the same time frame. So, I can foresee needing to spend lots of time doing self-care! I might even blog once in a while… aren’t you lucky! 

Transition

The last several weeks has been a time of transition, of moving from one way of doing things to something completely different. The next seven weeks will be so as well, a continuation of the changes that have slowly been happening as I get ready for my first time living alone in my 57 years. 

No, my husband and I are not separating; there is no problem in our relationship. In fact, were it not for his support and encouragement, I would not be even considering what I am about to do. 

After months of trying to secure a practicum in my province of residence, and doors slammed in my face at every turn, I found a placement - but this one is in a neighbouring province, and with a counseling agency that wants me to stay on with them after I graduate with my Masters degree. That means that I have to move - temporarily - to an apartment in a city that is two hours' drive (and an expensive toll bridge ride) away from the house I have lived in for the last nearly 29 years. My practicum begins on September 5, 2018.  That is less than seven weeks away!

Anyway, since my family needs to stay here, for a lot of reasons, I must live alone in what amounts to a strange city, on a reduced salary, and live like that for almost a year. Then, the agency will start to pay me, and for another year, I will be working two jobs part-time, until I retire from my current job in the fall of 2020. After that, I can go to full-time with the agency, which will speed up the process of me getting enough experience to launch out on my own. Once I can do that, I can move back in with my family. 

Which brings me to the meantime, this period of transition, this intense, can't-wait-but-no-it's-too-fast time where I have been picking away at things that need doing. Like finding an apartment (cha-ching $$), getting it ready to be lived in (MORE $$), being sure to maintain my quality of homework and assignments (the time requirements this term are SO much higher than ever before!), and trying to find time in there to sleep and eat and MAYBE fit in some self-care and activity. 

Social life?  What's that?

About a month ago, I had to go on stress leave from work because all the stress of all of that PLUS having to be at work for eight hours a day was just too much for me to take and I was approaching burnout. I am feeling a bit more like myself these days, but I still have to deal with that transition period that I am going through, from this place to that place, from here to there, from together to alone. The changes are happening more and more quickly; I have started to get a feel for where things are located in my new place, and I have familiarized myself with my newest friend, Siri (that's the electronic assistant on the i-Phone that can look up directions on Google Maps and talk you through traffic. What a great feature that is for reducing stress!) 

And yesterday, I even got some groceries so they would be there when I moved in - all stuff that won't spoil (canned goods, rice, cereal, boxed meals, and some cleaning supplies.) It makes the reality seem more real... that, and all those trips up and down those stairs to my 2nd floor apartment lugging heavy bags and boxes. 

Transition from "our place" to "my place" - transition from "our" to "my." Fears that I won't be able to handle the winter alone. Excitement at starting the final year of my graduate school journey. Sadness at leaving my loved ones behind and knowing that I will have to get used to sleeping alone. Anger at the system in my own province that cannot accommodate my educational needs. Determination to do my best. Nervousness (and a sort of joy) about working with real clients and making a difference - hoping that it is a positive one. Trepidation at driving in the city and possibly getting lost or stranded. And more, so much more. 

I am so very grateful. My family has been so supportive and helpful during this transition. It feels like they have worked harder than I have to make all this work for me, knowing my physical limitations. They have trudged up and down those stairs to my apartment more times than I have (so far), and worked together to put furniture together (mostly my daughter who seems to have inherited my father's ability to see with his fingers and thread a screw without even looking!). They have popped up and down my step-stool to put up brackets for curtains, change light bulbs, and so much more, WITHOUT the benefit of air conditioning, fans going full blast. 

I am truly blessed. And as I ponder this, the clock is silently ticking away, bringing me ever closer to the reality that will be upon me soon enough. Soon I will be poised on the beginning of a new and different journey, one that will change my future. 

Am I ready? I guess I will have to be. I'm just ever so glad that the future only comes one day at a time.

Hurry Up and Wait

Last night I took the plunge. I applied for admission into a graduate-level university program. 

I've been talking about doing this for a couple of months, and since the decision to "move up" my start date from spring 2014 to fall 2013, it's occupied more of my thoughts and my time.

The deadline for applications for students wishing to begin their program in the fall semester is July 31. So lately, knowing that time can pass quickly, I have been in "hurry up" mode. I had conversations with potential referees, worked on my application letter, reviewed my finances (several times) and slowly, things started to fall into place.

I realized a couple of evenings ago that I had compiled everything that I was responsible to get together except a copy of my curriculum vitae (resume). Since my old Mac computer had all the versions I had for use at home (and since it is now "toast" and I'm using a Windows 8 platform which won't read the jump drive I had made containing all my documents), I had to remind myself to send a copy of the resume I have at work to my home email, which I did yesterday. And last night, after a long day at work, I still couldn't wait (ummm, see the title) to start working on it to take out job-specific jargon and replace it with information that anyone could understand. 

Before I knew it, it was after midnight. I had started my application online, and I was attaching my c.v. and my application letter to it and hitting submit - when it hit me. 

I was doing this. I was really doing this. 

It's a peculiar feeling: uneasy, unsure, hopeful, nervous, excited, scared, and determined all in one big ball of "I don't know what to call this." Me, who is almost never at a loss for words - especially in print. 

Part of me was freaking out. Just plain freaking out. That same part of me still is. My life will change so much - if they accept my application - in the next few months; what I do in the run of a day will barely resemble my "normal" routine now. It will be a LOT of work - and I will not have much time to do much of anything except work and study. 

For a while, I remind myself. Only for a while. 

Until that starts, though, I am back to waiting. A frenzy of activity and then .... nothing. Zippo. The only things missing from my application are things I don't have any control over: my transcript being forwarded to the institution and my references sending in their recommendations for my candidacy. 

Photo "Daily Planner With Pen" courtesy of
BrandonSigma at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

So, June will most likely be spent doing just what I'm doing now - only with the added flavor of anticipation and all those other things I mentioned (in varying degrees on various days or moments). 

And I'll be checking my email more often. 

I'm sure that other projects will come along to occupy my mind between now and the time I hear back from the university. Life does go on: my daughter is still recovering from surgery and learning to walk again (so impressed with her determination!), there are a couple of previously scheduled renovation projects that are happening in the next couple of weeks, and the weather is warming up (finally) so I'll be taking more time to appreciate that, because it lasts such a very short time here! 

And there is a lot to be said for the slogan, "One day at a time." (Sometimes, it's "One moment at a time"!) For today, I get to spend time with my husband and daughter, and run a few errands in town, and weed out my closet and all the tubs of clothing that I had set aside last fall. 

That ... I can do. I don't even have to hurry up. OR wait. 

Change by millimeters

Today I had another reminder of how gradual and almost imperceptible growth is. 

I'd been fretting about an upcoming event for weeks, because I knew it would place me in a situation which - all my life - I would avoid like the plague because it MIGHT be construed by someone (anyone, it doesn't matter who!) as confrontational.  And I hate confrontation.  There was a lot of preparation that went into it, and I got some really cool strategies for coping with the stress of the situation from someone who was way more seasoned a presenter than I am.

Well, today was the day.  And the event happened.  And not only did I not sit there like a bump on a log afraid to say anything, I spoke up.  And I held my own. And I wasn't afraid. Yes, I stumbled over some of my words, but you know what? the world didn't cave in on me when I struggled to express myself.  

And - truth be told - the whole thing went pretty well.  

Surprise!  (Well, nobody there was more surprised than I was at how much I said and how calm I was!)  I thought afterward (about myself and my performance today), "Who was that person? and how can I get to know her?" 

But I reminded myself that I entered this new realm, took this new endeavor upon myself in order to "stretch" me. Indeed, I discovered how much I had already been "stretched" by growing in my own recovery and getting comfortable inside my own skin the last few years - without even knowing it!!  

It's been in increments - in millimeters - and at times it's felt so slow, almost glacial.  But it's been happening nonetheless.  And it's days like today that show me just how far I've come in what (in hindsight) has been such a short time compared to the "before" picture of uncertainty, insecurity, fear, and anxiety - which took decades to create.  The change boggles my mind.

Calm.  Confidence.  Compassion.  Courage.  

The inner climate is warming. The glacier is moving.

Security Blanket

We look at children who need a "lovey" or a security blanket to get to sleep at night, and we think it's quaint and cute.  But the truth is, everyone needs a security blanket of some sort.  Because we all need security.

When I was a child, and even into my teens and twenties, I had horrible flash-back nightmares of traumatic childhood experiences, as well as dream-type nightmares based on my worst fears - phobias I had, and in some areas, still have. These left me feeling so exhausted that I would eventually "crash" and go into a dreamless sleep for a few nights running.  And then they'd start again. Every time.  I'd wake up in a panic, convinced that insects were crawling all over me and into my nostrils, suffocating me... or whatever other "powerlessness" dreams my subconscious (or my conscious memory) cooked up for me.

I was at a loss as to what to do.  Then someone - I think it was a Sunday School teacher - suggested to me to sleep with my Bible under my pillow when I happened to mention that I was having bad dreams.  I was brought up in a very superstitious household and community, so that tactic made sense to me at the time.  I started sleeping with my Bible under my pillow ... and amazingly, the nightmares didn't happen nearly as often.  

In hindsight, what I think really happened is that I was aware of that Bible under my pillow all night long, and was reminded as I slept that Somebody bigger than me, Someone much larger than even the thing or things I feared most, was with me and looking after me.  It was a very small, very unusual security blanket. And I SO needed security.  And it worked.  I'm a firm believer that God uses whatever means necessary to let us know that He is looking after us because He loves us.

And yeah, I need reminding.  

I eventually grew out of my need to sleep with a Bible under my pillow - that phase lasted about three or four years.  The thing I took from that time in my life was that God's love was something that I could count on whether I was aware of it or not.  

Yet ... I still need reminding. Often.

I found myself thinking about my youthful but rather bizarre security blanket lately, because of my recent struggles with feeling overwhelmed by stress in my life.  I guess that my emotional needs haven't really changed since I was that many years younger than I am now. I still need security, security that can't be provided by other people or a regular paycheck.  I've tried to find it in other things, usually compulsive habits that make me feel better temporarily, but nothing really works except being reminded - and God always finds a way to remind me - that He loves me ... no matter what.  

No matter what.  Now THAT's a security blanket.

Taking the red pill

I was reminded one evening recently, through something someone said, of the premise of the movie called, "The Matrix."  Okay that was a REALLY freaky movie, but it has almost a mythic truth to it.  There are so many applications ... but they all have one thing in common: stepping from a life you thought was genuine, into a whole new world that represents reality the way it is, even though that might be something totally opposite to what you thought was the way things were.

For those who haven't seen the movie, our hero, Neo, is a computer hacker, and one day he is kidnapped by some really strange people who take him to see an even stranger individual.  This person tells him that the world he knows is not the real world.  He has suspected something was amiss, but he's given a chance to find out for himself.  His contact from the real world gives him a choice: take the blue pill and wake up in your bed and never remember any of this bizarre experience, or take the red pill and find out the true nature of existence.

Neo takes the red pill - and is instantly and literally plunged into reality - a very disturbing reality which is far beyond anything he could have envisioned.  

He learns that human beings are actually "farmed" by a master alien race who provide a virtual reality dream-state for them to experience (the Matrix) while all the while, the life is slowly sucked out of them; when they die, their bodies are converted to fuel to feed the other humans who in turn feed the aliens.  The whole concept is very disgusting; it goes against everything we hold dear.  

The moment that Neo wakes up in the real world and sees how incredibly helpless he and his fellow human beings are in those little pods of slime, he is totally confused and doesn't know who to trust.  Fortunately his link to the "collective" is severed ... and he is again rescued by the one who opened his eyes.  He is nurtured and re-educated, allowed to rebuild his atrophied muscles, and given the chance to join a resistance movement to free his fellow human beings, one at a time, from this unwitting bondage.  He has to learn a whole new way of living, a whole new mindset, to be able to re-enter the Matrix (knowing that it is only an illusion), and to overcome the aliens and their allies through a computer interface.  

That period of transition, which starts with a willingness to be shown the true nature of living (taking the red pill), is always confusing and usually painful ... at first.  The new way of living feels unnatural, uncomfortable.  It takes a while to get used to and we are constantly in the process of un-learning and re-learning things we thought we knew.  Things we thought were true, aren't. Things we thought were our imagination turn out to be real.  We need to learn new boundaries, venture out toward new frontiers. 

It's not easy.  There are bumps in the road, and there are those who have been on the path we are on, who may have been there so long that they have become bored with or tired of the struggle - and they sell out to the evil entities  who would blind us to their existence and lull us back into that dream-state.  These changing allegiances is also part of the experience, though it is a painful one; only a friend can betray a friend - a stranger has nothing to gain (as one songwriter said).  Learning to deal with and then let go of those things is part of the new reality.  

Finally, when we "take the red pill" - we learn three important truths which remain, no matter how our world changes around us in the new reality.  (1) We are born into a world at war. (2) Things are not what they seem.  And (3) we have a vital part to play in waging that war.  

It's scary.  But we are loved, we are treasured, and our Rescuer believes in us and will never abandon us.

Dreams - wishes and fears

Guilt is a horrible thing, especially unearned guilt.  

I remember clearly believing at one time  -  in the not-too-distant past  -  that I didn't have the right to have a life, to have interests outside of my family, work and church, and I felt guilty for dreaming of a better life.  

When I began to heal from the hurts of my childhood and from my dysfunctional beliefs and relationships, I started to dream again, to envision possibilities, to hope for more than what I had known.  

I found this weird house through Google Images at:
http://affordablehousinginstitute.org/blogs/us/
2009/06/i-hope-youre-not-what-you-live-in.html

I'd studied all about dreams at college - you know - the kind that happen while you're asleep.  I knew what the elements of a dream meant, how to interpret a dream so as to find out what a person's preoccupations were, what they were hiding from themselves, how they really saw themselves.  

But waking dreams - nobody talked about those - seemed beyond my grasp.  Hopes, aspirations, "what-if" plans.  It had all seemed so selfish, so beyond what I felt I deserved.  

Since I have been in this healing process, I see that those kinds of dreams are a sign of a healthy individual.  I have started to have those dreams again.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I had always had ambition, hopes of getting ahead, making more money, etc., - but these dreams are different.  They're of being a better person, seeing miracles happen, playing a part (however small) in making a difference in people's lives.  

And they intrude upon my night-time dreams, which had always been filled with dread and fear of losing whatever blessing I had been given.  I still have those too... occasionally.  Not nearly as often, though.  My night-time dreams are more about building, climbing, and accomplishing now.  Occasionally I will have a really rip-snorting nightmare filled with disturbing images of death, dying, violence, decay and the like, but even these are triggers for me to examine why these things are coming to me now.  Usually it's because I have heard, read, or seen something that is disturbing and didn't deal with it when it happened, shoved my feelings down inside - either out of embarrassment or out of feeling that it was inappropriate in the situation.  

But what occupies my mind most these days is the waking kind of dream.  Being about 2/3 of the way through my life expectancy, I am realizing more and more that life is way too short to be wasting it on wondering what might have been "if only."  And the last couple of years, as I have slowly gotten unwrapped from those old rags of the past, I have actually been starting to live my dreams in reality.  I believe I am a better person than I used to be.  I've seen miracles happen in my life and in the lives of those I care about.  And sometimes I've been the agent of those miracles.  

Life is more and more rewarding the more I really "live" it.  Dreams do come true.

The skirl of the pipes

Yes.

Yes, I admit it.  I love the Scottish bagpipes.  Always have, ever since the first time I heard them.  I know that some folks call them "agony bags."  I know that so many people can't stand them.  But I love the sound of them!

And it's funny, you know.  Because to my knowledge, my ancestors weren't Scots.  They were English.  Some Irish.  Some Welsh.  

But I married someone of Scottish descent (both sides!)  And he loves the pipes too.  When we were first married, we used to go for long walks in the country where we lived - in a little community called South Pinette - which just happened to be across from an elementary school where the local pipe and drum band practiced their songs for the annual parade (held usually on the 2nd or 3rd Friday of August).  Their practices were on Thursday nights.  Quite a few times we would time our walks to coincide with their practices - they were GOOD!!  We'd walk and listen, and when the last notes had played and left only echoes in the night, we'd dream out loud to each other about all the things we would love to do someday.  

We used to go to the parade every year too.  Lots of people, lots of floats, and lots of pipe and drum bands from all over the Maritimes.  When our children were little, we took them to watch the parade and they enjoyed the clowns and the horses, the floats with the shiny displays and the ones with bands that played rock and roll.  

But it wasn't a parade for me ... until I heard the skirl of the pipes and the drum rolls that gave the rhythm and beat for the players to march to.  I looked forward to hearing all of them, but in particular I liked "The Scottish Soldier" and "Scotland the Brave."  I still do.

I don't go to street level to watch the parade any more, even though my boss allows me to go.  But my workplace is close enough to the parade route that if I go to a window, I can hear the music.  So today, when I went to the printer to get a print job, I heard the sound of the bagpipes coming through the window, and made a detour to go over to the window and listen for a few minutes.

The song I heard just so happened to be "The Scottish Soldier."  It stirred something in me : something noble, something nostalgic.  I started to mist over! 

Later, I had a great chat with a co-worker whose family celebrates Robert Burns' birthday and whose brothers compete in the Highland Games.  It was a wonderful conversation and she became quite animated as she talked about her family gatherings and how meaningful they were.  I left the encounter feeling grateful to have had the chance to have that talk. 

Sometimes I have days where nothing goes right.  And then there are days like today.  Thank God.

One Little Cog

Seven hundred years of faithfulness.  Huh.  

I just got finished re-watching "WALL-E" by Disney / Pixar ®.  WALL-E stands for Waste Allocation Load Lifter - Earth Class. (That's for those trivia buffs.)  

It struck me that this little guy couldn't do much, but he kept on doing what he was designed to do. He looked after his pet, his house, and his job, and he collected things that interested him. When he wasn't working, he dreamed of what might be beyond his little world.  And then someone out of this world rocked his: EVE - (again for the trivia buffs: Extraterrestrial Vegetation Evaluator) - a lady on a mission.  

It was his character of willingness, helpfulness and faithfulness that got me.  Just one little fella but everyone he came in contact with, he touched with a song, a helping hand.  And when it came right down to it, he just happened to be instrumental in getting people back to Earth and building a whole new, greener society.  

I know it's just fiction.  I like to watch and read fiction that uplifts, where good wins out.  It might not mirror how the world operates.  But I get enough of that in the world.  I like to see things 'end right'.  And this charming little story ends right.  

Sometimes I identify with WALL-E. And I'd like to think that even in a small way, my existence has some sort of meaning, a grander design than just the sum of my likes, talents, education, experience, and appearance.  

That's something to dream about.