Starting Normal

The static, frozen, white surface of the Husatonic River has given way to the thousands of wavelets with their little white crowns on this windy, warm morning. "Warm" as in not freezing. The peacefulness that came down with the countless snowflakes has also melted away as the unremarkable brown of the winter landscape reclaims its normal place in the normally temperate winter of Southern Connecticut. It's as if finally, my new life is starting normal. End of the endless barrage of blizzards, so perhaps end of all the drama, finally some peace.

Every morning I pass by Bridgeport, and I have written quite a bit about this city that I have only visited twice. One time was to eat at this middle-of-nowhere vegan restaurant run by women who make it a point that it's run by women. Another time was to visit a girl for lunch, someone who turned out to be one of my closest friends. When I told her about the letter from my Mother, she gave me a big hug. There is something beautiful about people who come from a culture, or a background, of physical contact. If we all got more physical contact, more hugs, more kisses, since earlier on, I think there would be a lot less creepiness, less awkwardness, and dare I say, a lot fewer wars, in this world. But if we all got what we deserved, the story of life, the story of love, would not have even been conceived as a story at all.

The ugliness of Bridgeport somehow attracts me. The ruins are visible from some glory of a not-too-distant past when America was the world power in manufacturing. After the blanket of white peacefulness finally melted away enough, I can see the reality of a lasting death; there is a lot of abandoned factories, some still struggle it seems to remind us what it had been when they were feeding families of hardworking Americans, but most of them are just in ruins. And in this ruin or in this stubborn cling to the past, I find something human to visit. Human as if I were looking at the soulless eyes of the unemployed who had at one point a lot of proud to brag about, rightfully brag about. Human as if it were one of those poorer people who still dare to put on the best clothes they had, even if they were worn out and out of fashion, and walk around the street with their heads high even knowing the silent or not-so-silent snickering in the more fortunate observers. If I had the time…. If I had the time I would come to Bridgeport and take the photos to tell you what I mean.

The guy that I mentioned in yesterday's entry, the one with daughters but not so clear to me if he is married or not, I had lunch with him along with others. I learned that he doesn't like to travel. He doesn't like to leave the country, at least. He doesn't even want to go to London, where our headquarters is, and would resist if he has to, if business requires him to travel. And yet, his girlfriend is "500 miles" away. He drives a lot, from what I hear, puts in more miles a year than I have in my car so far since I bought it nearly six years ago. His story made me feel so alien to a world that is very normal in this country. I am not afraid; on the contrary, I feel delighted to be in a different world. He has been working in the company longer than anyone else in the group, including the manager. And I would be surprised if he will leave on his own will. Unless the company lays him off, he will stay, undoubtedly, for as long as he wants. There's something tempting on my part to get to know him. He is probably my age, if not younger. His world seems not only different to me, but "older." Older not in the sense of years, not in wisdom, but just that he seems to have a very settled down life, present and future. The fact that he has to travel "500 miles" to see her girlfriend adds some drama in his stable life. And so is having "daughters" whose mother I am not sure of.

I forget sometimes I work for a bank. I always think I work for an investment bank. The relevant difference here is the stereotype I have. An investment bank screams out risks, screams out responsible and reckless investments, pushes out headlines, usually either bad or makes you very jealous. On the other hand, a bank, like the government, typifies stability, job security. As long as you play by the myriad of rules your career is secured. The layoffs you have read about the past few years are an exception to a world not only of immense cash and capital, but also of great job security. When we think about working at a bank we think about "boring", "stable", and in that sense, family building.

And so it should come to me as no surprise that people who work in the bank are those who would buy two dozen roses and throw in some chocolate for those they care about and wouldn't want to disappoint. On my way out from helping out a "client" (really is a colleague from the group that our group support), that Chinese woman was on her way out to go home. She's the only Chinese person I know, as I have mentioned before on my Chinese New Year blog. She always talks to me, never avoids me as strangers usually do even when they all work in the same big firm. She always smiles at me. And she always attempts to speak Mandarin to me, even though I am still not at ease to do so. She wished me Happy Valentine's Day, the only one to do so that day, and the first one in my life to do so in Chinese (at least that's what I think she said to me!). I asked if she and her husband would have a special dinner that night, and she smiled with no sign of bitterness that no, they had already had that the previous night and that this night he was working overtime. I forgot what he did, but I am pretty sure also in finance. Sometimes I think people who have never interacted with the finance world, let alone worked in one, think that we always think about money, we yearn for more money. We obviously have people who do, and we need to have those people for otherwise the finance world wouldn't be the finance world, wouldn't succeed as a money-making industry. But I think most people, at least in this family-oriented company, think a lot about really normal, everyday-life things, like family, like groceries, like seeing a far-away girlfriend, or golf, for that matter. I am willing to bet that I read a lot more about investment, about growing my personal portfolio, than most people at the firm, who probably, like most Americans who actually invest (and that's undoubtedly a minority), just leave the money in some mutual fund and forget about it. I find making money fun and challenging, but that's perhaps I had a mother who always wanted an alchemist life where with the little life has given her she would want to become a millionaire one day.

I can see the trees again, brown but naked in its truth. Soon I will see the glass buildings housing all those billion-dollar ideas waiting to be tested out on your money. Perhaps a more normal life will begin, but my life has never been normal, let's face it. And the moment a whiff of normality is sensed in the air I would stir it up with some drama. It needs not be a romantic drama, but I just know, with the impending change of location, moving back to New York, anything but normal is waiting for me in the offing.