1 Jul, 2008
arlington arrogance battle boy bush challenge cheney court house frat boys funny lawyers McClellan metro new carrolton office officemates oh YEAH one-upmansship orange line outdo overheard politics roomates scoff show off social poser summer internship wash wash washington work
Yes, this is an actual conversation I heard on the Orange Line towards New Carrolton. Ah, Washington in the summer… bring on the interns and the summer associates. Some towns have sports talk. We have this (transcribed as closely as I could write on the back of an Express newspaper from my nearby seat)
Obvious summer associate 1 (let’s call him L1): The Harvard girl… how old is she?
L2 (yep, another one. I know, in DC. What are the odds?): 30 something.
—LONG PAUSE WHILE L1 AND L2 PONDER HOW OLD HARVARD GIRL IS. IT ALMOST DEFIES EXPLANATION! —
L2: She took some time off. [me and L1, thinking, “ahh. that explains it.”
L2: To work for the Cheneys.
L1: What??
L2: She took some time off, to work for the Cheneys.
L1 (and me): !
L2 repeats again.
L1: Really?
L2: Yes. On a Project.
L1: (smirking) which was…. Read the rest of this entry »
28 Jun, 2008
arlington dc dupont heart hipster home love suburbs urban virginia wash writing
The real reason I’ve been thinking about home is that I might be leaving this one soon. This one, being downtown, “THE city” (sorry, nyc), my hipster dupont city girl pad, my newly-divorced-to-single woman pad.
And, to top it off, I might be moving to … Northern Virginia, land of my constant mockery lo these many months! Oh the horror!
But the thing is, ultimately, home is “who”. Home is who you love, where you love, and cliche’ or not, home is where the heart is. Absent “blue pearl” granite even, home is where my love is, where we both can be, and where we can be together. Home is love and I have found it.
22 Jun, 2008
blue brewing building curtains home light love night open raining storm stormy wash wet wind writing yellow
Against the aqua of my curtains comes yellow so bright, I think it must be car lights. It is 8:20 p.m.
I open the curtain to see that no, it is the summer sky before a storm.
Yellow beams hit my curtains, pebbled sandy driveway, clean white stone of the walls of my building. The rain is coming.
Thunder literally rolls over the yellow green of grass, magnolia tree leaves, footprints.
Flashes of white that stab the earth and listen, wait.
I open the curtains wide to breathe in the wet wind.
When the rain comes, it is in drumming, pattering waves. I love the smell, the taste, the feel of the night from my room, the same storms I watched from a similarly yellow-lit blue room of my childhood.
The summer storm makes me feel something is coming. And anything is possible.
[Photo by “Soleil 1016” on Flickr]
