The San Jose International Airport has free wi-fi but no great dining options outside of either ticketing or security. There’s a nice CNN Newsstand with $6 nuts and $10 beef jerky. Otherwise, you’re up a creek if you’re looking for a good meal.
In the nuts category, I recommend going for California Natural’s Cajun Savory Mix. Skip the jerky and go with a Godiva dark chocolate bar. Make sure you wash it all down with plenty of water from the nearby water fountain.
Food selection aside, I have no complaints as I wait to check into my new place and embrace the fact that I have, indeed, left Washington, DC behind.
The challenge, in the midst of boxes, packing tape and a near fire (some misplaced packing paper had an unfortunate confrontation with my cooking range), is not about logistics or getting enough sleep. It’s managing the fact that no one really knows what you’re going through. How can they? There are the fears, the hopes and the ambiguities all mixing to create your unique, emotional salmagundi.
An empathy gap emerges when you’re caught in a major life event. Other people can’t possibly know your reality, so when they reach out to you, they can’t know in what state their message, call, e-mail, etc. may find you. It’s impossible to expect people to have full empathy when all they know is what they may or may not have seen on Instagram, Facebook and, well, that’s about it.
Others' lives, no matter how well we think we understand them, will always remain, in large part, a mystery.
Nevertheless, I can't shake this irrational belief that everyone can and should know what I'm going through. (Emphasis on the “irrational” part.) It’s difficult to resist the childlike urge to demand that everyone fully and completely understand my reality. A righteous indignation arises when I see a message I'm not prepared to deal with pop up on a device, and I start internally screaming: Don’t they know I’ve just uprooted my life, said goodbye to the hometown I love and left behind my parents, my friends and my partner — all of whom I wanted to spend so much more time with?! Don’t they know I’m tossing a gigantic salmagundi of emotions!?!?
No, princess, they don’t know any of that. Even if they do, you don’t know what they’re going through, so get down off your United Economy Plus throne, calm down, munch on some trail mix and answer the e-mail like a big girl.
We cannot expect people to know our innermost turmoil. Also, more often than not, that turmoil is a tempest in a teapot. Also, it’s not other people’s responsibility to stop reaching out to me when I am in flux. It’s my responsibility to step back. That, at the end of the day, is what I am doing in the waiting area outside security at San Jose International Airport. I am stepping back and taking a moment to zoom out from the tempest so I can see the teapot.
I've also decided to stop responding to e-mails for the rest of the day too. Okay, maybe I'll respond after I've made some tea.
Take care of one another.
(Note: This is similar to Ron Burgundy's glass case of emotions, but salmagundi is my new favorite word.)