...but everything else is the same.
Well, it's really not. At least, it's not at all the same as when I was here last time. Last time, it was August --hot, sticky, sweaty August and I was in the midst of what I can easily describe as one of the worst periods of my life if not the worst. I'd had a terrible incident just a few days prior to take-off, and being here brings back memories of frantically tapping out emails on my blackberry trying desperately to defend myself and my decisions to a now former "friend," which resulted in the cruelest things ever said to me in my lifetime. This was all happening while simultaneously feeling like I was treading water while preparing my first big all-day meeting that I'd run by myself.
It was a tiny bit of hell on earth, in this town where a giant temple sits on a hill with a golden angel blowing his trumpet over all the land.
Today, eight months later and about eight years worth of reflection and new perspective, I am back in this city that I actually kind of adore in its quirky way. The locals are fun, and whenever we're here, we have to stay for days at a time since flights in and out to DC are limited in our price zones.
I didn't run another meeting today, but I sat around the conference room table and was reminded once again of how lucky I am to be right here, right now. In this job; in this field. It's hard as hell sometimes -and far and away the most challenging job I've had.
Tonight, we'll celebrate my thirtieth birthday. It isn't until Monday, but we're leaving tomorrow and we figured we'd kill two birds with one stone.
Thirty.
Wham, bam, damn -these trips around the sun are going fast.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
When it hasn't been your day, your month, or even your year.
I've had a week that's zinged me out, clear from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other.
On Monday, I woke up feeling like the day was somehow going to kick my ass just because it could. And oh, yes it did. I woke up to a bad text message from a friend, and I was feeling super emotional over this. Then, I had a meeting with our accounting people to clear up a few questions I had about a brand new process they're implementing. I haven't been talked to so rudely and insulted so much since my shitty job in 2004. I went outside the building and sobbed my eyes out.
(Random aside: I've noticed that a crying person on the sidewalk is the equivalent of a homeless person on the sidewalk. People glance at you quickly, see that you're in some sort of need, and rush away as fast as humanly possible. Don't look at the person who many need something from me! I have enough problems!)
Anyway, I called my old friend Tif and she talked me down from the ledge. A true shout-out has to be given to her--she's been a rock to me ever since college and talking to her everyday keeps me centered.
Monday night, I put on pajamas and ate comfort food and did everything I could to calm down. I re-evaluated everything from why I'm in DC, to why I'm in this job, to what I'm doing with my whole damn life.
That was a low.
Tuesday was awesome. My day was much better, and then I got to have dinner with Betsy, the amazing sister of Katie Granju and we had a long talk about how I can help Henry's Fund, and all kinds of ideas on how we can grow it and what the future can hold. Their entire family has been through hell on earth this past year and I feel honored to be able to help in whatever way I can on a real basis.
We bonded over a beer and a shared sense of humor, of politics, of basically everything.
That was a high.
On Wednesday, a shitstorm exploded at work and then I got lost coming home from a meeting I had in Alexandria thanks to new construction patterns. It was crappy weather and I ended up in a bubble bath for two hours with a book.
On Thursday, I went to Alexandria again for a meeting. I had to drive there, and I passed the motorcade on the way to get it --I have to park it like a half mile away. I always like seeing the motorcade. When I got to the meeting, I had to put my car was on the meter and I only had quarters for an hour. So after an hour, I moved it again. In the rain. I went to a parking garage which was full. Which I found out after I circled every.single.floor. Then I came out, put the car on the side of the road, and got fined $40 when the meter ran out. Which I found after I got soaked. Again.
This morning, i found out I left my purse in the car overnight. Luckily it wasn't broken into and everything is okay. But doing that made me lose a half hour of my morning since I'd parked the car about a half mile away and had to walk there, walk back, walk to the metro, walk down the broken metro stairs, ride the metro with 300 high schoolers here on spring break, walk to the office.
After all that walking, you'd think I wouldn't have gained two pounds this week. Ah lah.
The high highs and the low lows, all in just a week.
Sounds like life to me.
On Monday, I woke up feeling like the day was somehow going to kick my ass just because it could. And oh, yes it did. I woke up to a bad text message from a friend, and I was feeling super emotional over this. Then, I had a meeting with our accounting people to clear up a few questions I had about a brand new process they're implementing. I haven't been talked to so rudely and insulted so much since my shitty job in 2004. I went outside the building and sobbed my eyes out.
(Random aside: I've noticed that a crying person on the sidewalk is the equivalent of a homeless person on the sidewalk. People glance at you quickly, see that you're in some sort of need, and rush away as fast as humanly possible. Don't look at the person who many need something from me! I have enough problems!)
Anyway, I called my old friend Tif and she talked me down from the ledge. A true shout-out has to be given to her--she's been a rock to me ever since college and talking to her everyday keeps me centered.
Monday night, I put on pajamas and ate comfort food and did everything I could to calm down. I re-evaluated everything from why I'm in DC, to why I'm in this job, to what I'm doing with my whole damn life.
That was a low.
Tuesday was awesome. My day was much better, and then I got to have dinner with Betsy, the amazing sister of Katie Granju and we had a long talk about how I can help Henry's Fund, and all kinds of ideas on how we can grow it and what the future can hold. Their entire family has been through hell on earth this past year and I feel honored to be able to help in whatever way I can on a real basis.
We bonded over a beer and a shared sense of humor, of politics, of basically everything.
That was a high.
On Wednesday, a shitstorm exploded at work and then I got lost coming home from a meeting I had in Alexandria thanks to new construction patterns. It was crappy weather and I ended up in a bubble bath for two hours with a book.
On Thursday, I went to Alexandria again for a meeting. I had to drive there, and I passed the motorcade on the way to get it --I have to park it like a half mile away. I always like seeing the motorcade. When I got to the meeting, I had to put my car was on the meter and I only had quarters for an hour. So after an hour, I moved it again. In the rain. I went to a parking garage which was full. Which I found out after I circled every.single.floor. Then I came out, put the car on the side of the road, and got fined $40 when the meter ran out. Which I found after I got soaked. Again.
This morning, i found out I left my purse in the car overnight. Luckily it wasn't broken into and everything is okay. But doing that made me lose a half hour of my morning since I'd parked the car about a half mile away and had to walk there, walk back, walk to the metro, walk down the broken metro stairs, ride the metro with 300 high schoolers here on spring break, walk to the office.
After all that walking, you'd think I wouldn't have gained two pounds this week. Ah lah.
The high highs and the low lows, all in just a week.
Sounds like life to me.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Maine Things
I flew up on Friday morning to the great state of Maine to visit the cousins. My cousins Todd and Chris are basically older brothers to me this point, and both are incredibly protective and loving--in other words, exactly what I need sometimes when I'm feeling disconnected and out of sorts.
It was perfection.
We slept in. We ate fries. Todd's wife, Jenny, treated us both to mani/pedi's on Saturday morning. Then we went shopping and I got my very first Coach purse! I'm not one to get all hyped up about either of those things...but I swear, it was all heavenly this weekend. We went dancing, we ate excellent seafood. I had a lobster roll, and bought new Nikes and Victoria's secret underwear and Sephora makeup and ..... well, time for PBJ's this week :)
There were cute little boys who have the same baby blue eyes as me:
And cute puppy dogs:
And cousins with said cute puppy dog:
I love that I feel like home in so many, many places. I am so lucky.
It was perfection.
We slept in. We ate fries. Todd's wife, Jenny, treated us both to mani/pedi's on Saturday morning. Then we went shopping and I got my very first Coach purse! I'm not one to get all hyped up about either of those things...but I swear, it was all heavenly this weekend. We went dancing, we ate excellent seafood. I had a lobster roll, and bought new Nikes and Victoria's secret underwear and Sephora makeup and ..... well, time for PBJ's this week :)
There were cute little boys who have the same baby blue eyes as me:
And cousins with said cute puppy dog:
I love that I feel like home in so many, many places. I am so lucky.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Be Like That
Well, it's Wednesday. I keep thinking I should blog, and get the image of me sadly tromping up an escalator staring at words about wounded soldiers, off the top of my blogroll :)
Life ain't all that bad. I'm going through a period of stillness, I think, and I've been spending alot of time just kind of reflecting on things. Not in a bad way though....not in the "oh my dear lord, what does it ALL MEAN?!" kind of way. As we all know, I can tend to walk on the melancholy side of the road, and only really find myself savoring people and things when they are either 1) far away, 2) in my past.
I was walking down my street the other day and it's just beautiful. It really is and it looks like something out of a movie sometimes. I walk by Afghani, Lebanese, Polish, Bangladeshi, and Thai food restaurants everyday and that's just on my street. I tuck away in the basement of a gorgeous house and I doubt I'll ever have an experience similar to the way I'm living now. So why do I want so desperately to know what's going to happen when I turn this page? When I do move on, and when I do leave DC for god-knows-where?
One of my favorite songs in college -and still now- was "Be Like That" by 3 Doors Down. In my sorority house, my dorm room window opened out onto the awning of the house--you can see it behind us in the picture here: (I am, of course, the short one).
Anyway, we used to sit out on this awning all the time and sometimes at night I'd go out and watch all the people pass and I could see the neighborhood on the other side of the street and I distinctly remember the lyrics of Be Like That going through my head, or sometimes through the window while a CD played:
"She spends her days up in the north hall
Watching the people as they pass
And all she wants is just a little piece of this dream
Is that too much to ask?
For a safe home, and a warm bed, on a quiet little street"
And you know what?
I got it.
"If I could be like that, what would I do?...."
Life ain't all that bad. I'm going through a period of stillness, I think, and I've been spending alot of time just kind of reflecting on things. Not in a bad way though....not in the "oh my dear lord, what does it ALL MEAN?!" kind of way. As we all know, I can tend to walk on the melancholy side of the road, and only really find myself savoring people and things when they are either 1) far away, 2) in my past.
I was walking down my street the other day and it's just beautiful. It really is and it looks like something out of a movie sometimes. I walk by Afghani, Lebanese, Polish, Bangladeshi, and Thai food restaurants everyday and that's just on my street. I tuck away in the basement of a gorgeous house and I doubt I'll ever have an experience similar to the way I'm living now. So why do I want so desperately to know what's going to happen when I turn this page? When I do move on, and when I do leave DC for god-knows-where?
One of my favorite songs in college -and still now- was "Be Like That" by 3 Doors Down. In my sorority house, my dorm room window opened out onto the awning of the house--you can see it behind us in the picture here: (I am, of course, the short one).
Anyway, we used to sit out on this awning all the time and sometimes at night I'd go out and watch all the people pass and I could see the neighborhood on the other side of the street and I distinctly remember the lyrics of Be Like That going through my head, or sometimes through the window while a CD played:
"She spends her days up in the north hall
Watching the people as they pass
And all she wants is just a little piece of this dream
Is that too much to ask?
For a safe home, and a warm bed, on a quiet little street"
And you know what?
I got it.
"If I could be like that, what would I do?...."
Friday, February 18, 2011
I recall the experience...
Every morning, I descend down this long escalator to the metro:
Inscribed on the stone wall all around the metro's entrance is a quote by Walt Whitman. I have no idea why this particular quote was chosen but it is:
Thus in silence in dreams' projections,
Returning, resuming, I thread my way through the hospitals;
The hurt and wounded I pacify with soothing hand,
I sit by the restless all dark night - some are so young;
Some suffer so much - I recall the experience sweet and sad...
-Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass, 1876
We are all so disconnected here. I rode the metro today with a coworker of mine standing right in front of me the entire ride. He never looked at me, because we don't meet eyes around here. I cram on the train with my arm tucked around someone's waist so I can reach a pole to steady myself on. My back presses against someone else and we all collectively suck in our breath so we can make sure the doors close and train moves. I hurl through the darkness clutching strangers for balance, and the whole time, we never speak, never look at each other. Its as if we aren't there at all. Ghosts. For me, usually, it's the only time I'm touched all day unless I see someone after work.
As we reached our stop, I reached out and touched my coworkers arm and he jerked it back and turned to me with a glare before realizing it was me. Our defenses are so up, all the time. Don't look at this homeless person, don't look at this person who looks sad, don't even think about looking at someone asking you for money. We drift and it strikes me sometimes how god-awful lonely we all look.
We break apart as the train emptys, our morning embraces forgotten, shaken off and in the haste of the day we separate -never knowing anyone, never speaking, never looking. The pattern repeats in the afternoon, and I ascend the same escalator and trudge up with my footsteps echoing and my ipod clutched in my hand and I'm thinking of how we're going to keep people on Medicaid, and how we're going to get through these lawsuits, and how I'm going to get through the next few months. About how god-awful lonely I am most of the time, and how I am both luckier than hell and sad at the same damn time. And I look at the quote which I know will remind me always of my time spent here, now, in Dupont Circle as my twenties wind down and the rest of my life winds up.
I'll recall the experience sweet and sad.
Inscribed on the stone wall all around the metro's entrance is a quote by Walt Whitman. I have no idea why this particular quote was chosen but it is:
Thus in silence in dreams' projections,
Returning, resuming, I thread my way through the hospitals;
The hurt and wounded I pacify with soothing hand,
I sit by the restless all dark night - some are so young;
Some suffer so much - I recall the experience sweet and sad...
-Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass, 1876
We are all so disconnected here. I rode the metro today with a coworker of mine standing right in front of me the entire ride. He never looked at me, because we don't meet eyes around here. I cram on the train with my arm tucked around someone's waist so I can reach a pole to steady myself on. My back presses against someone else and we all collectively suck in our breath so we can make sure the doors close and train moves. I hurl through the darkness clutching strangers for balance, and the whole time, we never speak, never look at each other. Its as if we aren't there at all. Ghosts. For me, usually, it's the only time I'm touched all day unless I see someone after work.
As we reached our stop, I reached out and touched my coworkers arm and he jerked it back and turned to me with a glare before realizing it was me. Our defenses are so up, all the time. Don't look at this homeless person, don't look at this person who looks sad, don't even think about looking at someone asking you for money. We drift and it strikes me sometimes how god-awful lonely we all look.
We break apart as the train emptys, our morning embraces forgotten, shaken off and in the haste of the day we separate -never knowing anyone, never speaking, never looking. The pattern repeats in the afternoon, and I ascend the same escalator and trudge up with my footsteps echoing and my ipod clutched in my hand and I'm thinking of how we're going to keep people on Medicaid, and how we're going to get through these lawsuits, and how I'm going to get through the next few months. About how god-awful lonely I am most of the time, and how I am both luckier than hell and sad at the same damn time. And I look at the quote which I know will remind me always of my time spent here, now, in Dupont Circle as my twenties wind down and the rest of my life winds up.
I'll recall the experience sweet and sad.
Monday, February 14, 2011
All the things I do not know
Update: I slept. For ten hours. I feel like a new person =)
"I (hiccup) want (sob) you (gasp) to (hiccup) hold (sob) meeeee" My three year old nephew wailed this pitifully from the step of his "time out" designated stairstep. I'd just walked by him and was determinedly ignoring him since I wasn't exactly sure how this whole time-out protocol is currently working for my sister and kiddos. But, this broke my heart….and I'm not his mother, I'm his soft-hearted aunt and I never get to see him and now he's got his arms out for me and the ends of his hair are sweaty from crying and of course, I grabbed him up. I rocked him on the stairstep a minute before my sister came to check on him, looked at me exasperated, then smiled and freed him from his stairstep prison.
Approximately 12 hours later, I'd be repeating this mantra.
Around 1am this morning, as I sat up in bed after not sleeping a wink, with my head in my hands crying as every anxiety, doubt, worthless and awful feeling consumed me. My poor sleep-deprived best friend, who was due to get up at 4am to get me to the airport by 5:40 am, so I could fly here in time for work this morning, rolled over and asked if I was okay. I was so not okay. God bless her, she did hold me and ask a million questions about what is wrong (I was incredibly helpful in answering her "everythiiiiiing" and what could she do about it? "nothiiiiing")
Of course, everything is not wrong and there is a great deal she can do to keep me balanced and sane, along with the rest of the people who sustain me. But sometimes at 1am, it sure as hell feels like it its all wrong even with someone saying how much they love you over and over.
I went home for the weekend to try to re-find my balance, to even out my inner self--I've been spending too much time alone, and too much time working, and forgetting too easily how many people do love me and instead focusing on who does not. What I don't have. What I fear I'll never have. (My upcoming birthday is doing nothing to help quell these tick-tick-tick feelings of not only the biological clock, but just my overall clock as well and how I'm using my time here).
The weekend didn't do much to help that though, unfortunately. Home is a haven, but it is not immune from problems and issues, and of course, their lives are going on and they have their own struggles. My grandmother is getting older, my stepfather is getting more unpredictable, my mother is getting more stressed. I had a lot of niece and nephew time though, and that was most important. Even though a four year old coughed in my face all.night.long on Saturday night, and babies spit up on me, and three year olds had three year old tantrums, it was well worth it.
So here I sit at work, so freakin tired that I don’t know if I'll make it past lunchtime, I guess I'm going to have to come to grips with the fact that I just don't know a damn thing. I have no earthly idea if I'll ever somehow transition from the life I'm living to the life I want to live. If I will ever stop feeling like I take two running leaps forward toward that life, only to crash into a wall and slide to the bottom, then rip my jeans climbing over it.
My friend dropped me off at the airport this morning and I mumbled bye and started to drag the suitcase off after hugging her. I was a little embarrassed at how ca-razy I had been a few hours before…it was certainly not my best side and couldn't have been a picnic for her so I was trying to make a fast exit. She grabbed my arm back, and took my face in her hands and made me look in her eyes--I have a hard time doing that sometimes if I'm feeling sad or whatnot. She said "I adore you. When you think you have nothing, you have that."
So I have that. And I have this big, weird, wonderful family and one zillion kids that fight over who gets to sit on my lap at church. A good job, money, a roof over my head, and a cruise in the fall to the greek isles. Things to look forward to, and a life that is going to go forward even if I can't see past next Tuesday.
Maybe one day, I can finally feel that I have it all. And that maybe, I have all along.
"I (hiccup) want (sob) you (gasp) to (hiccup) hold (sob) meeeee" My three year old nephew wailed this pitifully from the step of his "time out" designated stairstep. I'd just walked by him and was determinedly ignoring him since I wasn't exactly sure how this whole time-out protocol is currently working for my sister and kiddos. But, this broke my heart….and I'm not his mother, I'm his soft-hearted aunt and I never get to see him and now he's got his arms out for me and the ends of his hair are sweaty from crying and of course, I grabbed him up. I rocked him on the stairstep a minute before my sister came to check on him, looked at me exasperated, then smiled and freed him from his stairstep prison.
Approximately 12 hours later, I'd be repeating this mantra.
Around 1am this morning, as I sat up in bed after not sleeping a wink, with my head in my hands crying as every anxiety, doubt, worthless and awful feeling consumed me. My poor sleep-deprived best friend, who was due to get up at 4am to get me to the airport by 5:40 am, so I could fly here in time for work this morning, rolled over and asked if I was okay. I was so not okay. God bless her, she did hold me and ask a million questions about what is wrong (I was incredibly helpful in answering her "everythiiiiiing" and what could she do about it? "nothiiiiing")
Of course, everything is not wrong and there is a great deal she can do to keep me balanced and sane, along with the rest of the people who sustain me. But sometimes at 1am, it sure as hell feels like it its all wrong even with someone saying how much they love you over and over.
I went home for the weekend to try to re-find my balance, to even out my inner self--I've been spending too much time alone, and too much time working, and forgetting too easily how many people do love me and instead focusing on who does not. What I don't have. What I fear I'll never have. (My upcoming birthday is doing nothing to help quell these tick-tick-tick feelings of not only the biological clock, but just my overall clock as well and how I'm using my time here).
The weekend didn't do much to help that though, unfortunately. Home is a haven, but it is not immune from problems and issues, and of course, their lives are going on and they have their own struggles. My grandmother is getting older, my stepfather is getting more unpredictable, my mother is getting more stressed. I had a lot of niece and nephew time though, and that was most important. Even though a four year old coughed in my face all.night.long on Saturday night, and babies spit up on me, and three year olds had three year old tantrums, it was well worth it.
So here I sit at work, so freakin tired that I don’t know if I'll make it past lunchtime, I guess I'm going to have to come to grips with the fact that I just don't know a damn thing. I have no earthly idea if I'll ever somehow transition from the life I'm living to the life I want to live. If I will ever stop feeling like I take two running leaps forward toward that life, only to crash into a wall and slide to the bottom, then rip my jeans climbing over it.
My friend dropped me off at the airport this morning and I mumbled bye and started to drag the suitcase off after hugging her. I was a little embarrassed at how ca-razy I had been a few hours before…it was certainly not my best side and couldn't have been a picnic for her so I was trying to make a fast exit. She grabbed my arm back, and took my face in her hands and made me look in her eyes--I have a hard time doing that sometimes if I'm feeling sad or whatnot. She said "I adore you. When you think you have nothing, you have that."
So I have that. And I have this big, weird, wonderful family and one zillion kids that fight over who gets to sit on my lap at church. A good job, money, a roof over my head, and a cruise in the fall to the greek isles. Things to look forward to, and a life that is going to go forward even if I can't see past next Tuesday.
Maybe one day, I can finally feel that I have it all. And that maybe, I have all along.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Last night
For the first time, I dreamed of my grandmother. I've been having incredibly vivid dreams lately, and last night was no exception. I woke up at 7, disoriented and confused, and fell back as soon as I found out we had a snow delay.
And I dreamed of her. I walked over to her, where she sat in her pink nightgown in a bed that was raised up on her back so she was half-sitting. I went over, and laid my head on her shoulder and made a noise. She smiled without opening her eyes and said "Well hi, Stephanie." In the same voice and inflection she always addressed me -although it was never my name in that sentiment but always "Well hi, sweetheart." I can hear her saying that countless mornings as I shuffled in the kitchen from sleep, for cheerios with sugar.
Always with sugar, at her house.
I watched a documentary last night on HBO of John F Kennedy, showing little-before-seen footage of his life and presidency and death. During the funeral processional, I noticed my office building in the background. Startled, I paused it and looked beyond that saluting boy and realized that I walked down that exact same street everyday.
I went to work this afternoon, running and dodging through snow and sleet and looked up to see the Capitol before me -ever present, ever constant, ever my view out the window. And I thought about all the people it has seen under its shadow, and that now, forever, I am one them. I am one of a million twentysomething workers that leave their good shoes at work and sludge through the street in boots trying to go and do and be. To try, somehow, to leave our mark.
I thought of my grandmother and I felt her walking beside me, taking big steps and stumbling when I did too. I thought of that processional.
I thought of the feet who have walked that same street. I paused for a moment and thought to myself: "Here you are."
Here we are.
I am in good company.
And I dreamed of her. I walked over to her, where she sat in her pink nightgown in a bed that was raised up on her back so she was half-sitting. I went over, and laid my head on her shoulder and made a noise. She smiled without opening her eyes and said "Well hi, Stephanie." In the same voice and inflection she always addressed me -although it was never my name in that sentiment but always "Well hi, sweetheart." I can hear her saying that countless mornings as I shuffled in the kitchen from sleep, for cheerios with sugar.
Always with sugar, at her house.
I watched a documentary last night on HBO of John F Kennedy, showing little-before-seen footage of his life and presidency and death. During the funeral processional, I noticed my office building in the background. Startled, I paused it and looked beyond that saluting boy and realized that I walked down that exact same street everyday.
I went to work this afternoon, running and dodging through snow and sleet and looked up to see the Capitol before me -ever present, ever constant, ever my view out the window. And I thought about all the people it has seen under its shadow, and that now, forever, I am one them. I am one of a million twentysomething workers that leave their good shoes at work and sludge through the street in boots trying to go and do and be. To try, somehow, to leave our mark.
I thought of my grandmother and I felt her walking beside me, taking big steps and stumbling when I did too. I thought of that processional.
I thought of the feet who have walked that same street. I paused for a moment and thought to myself: "Here you are."
Here we are.
I am in good company.
(Me, circa 2003)
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