tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71775638620852875282024-03-13T13:10:29.611-05:00so live.annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.comBlogger656125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-35855450600763136352012-08-12T21:59:00.001-05:002012-08-12T21:59:05.155-05:00tasteIf my sidebar is to be believed, I spend an inordinate amount of time combing the shelves of the Barnes & Noble in Union Station for books on terrorism. I also raid coworkers' personal libraries.<br />
<br />
Of course I don't do that. Of course not.annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-21886807054181567482012-08-12T21:57:00.001-05:002012-08-12T21:57:13.554-05:00Sunday night playlist, courtesy of iTunes shuffle and a little manipulationPart 1, or, a startlingly accurate sampling of my musical tastes during my senior year of high school (man, that Emery show was electrifying):<br />
<br />
1. Rufio: White Lights<br />
2. Fall Out Boy: This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race<br />
3. The Ting Tings: Fruit Machine<br />
4. Emery: Dear Death, Part 2<br />
5. Blaqk Audio: Again and Again and Again<br />
6. Family Force 5: X-Girlfriend<br />
7. AFI: The Last Kiss<br />
<br />
Part 2, or, recent downloads that indicate little has changed:<br />
<br />
1. Afrojack and Shermantology: Can't Stop Me<br />
2. Margot and the Nuclear So-and-Sos: Broadripple is Burning<br />
3. Matt & Toby: Good Boys<br />
4. Steed Lord: Precognition (Steed Lord Machine Mix)<br />
5. Steed Lord: Take My Hand (Mustard Pimp Remix)<br />
6. The White Stripes: We're Going to be Friendsannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-50582519090829339562012-08-05T18:39:00.000-05:002012-08-05T18:39:17.173-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQras2fhkBqBaxP7tB1q4NYLk4_BINtb3DP4NM5G8K22EeFyAJJQDNpbO4948GpjV1E1VYpv7rbU-P0P-KbMF5quoOV01OshB5WgVuMBthanY_7x1NOOX8qa6Jp4pp6BbIroJ9-ogABwE/s1600/img_0594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQras2fhkBqBaxP7tB1q4NYLk4_BINtb3DP4NM5G8K22EeFyAJJQDNpbO4948GpjV1E1VYpv7rbU-P0P-KbMF5quoOV01OshB5WgVuMBthanY_7x1NOOX8qa6Jp4pp6BbIroJ9-ogABwE/s320/img_0594.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-56041423791577347022012-07-30T20:59:00.001-05:002012-07-30T20:59:21.542-05:00Monday Monday1. Went to the Hill. Always a way to brighten up your day.<div>
2. Chicken parmesan is delicious. </div>
<div>
3. And the oven didn't kill me. (I am slightly terrified of ovens.)</div>
<div>
4. I finally get to write for POGO's blog! </div>
<div>
5. "He has the personality of a tree."</div>
<div>
6. It's good to know that people who have lived here for over a year also have to pull out their phones every time they get on the Metro to make sure they're going in the right direction.</div>
<div>
7. Over the weekend, an 82-year-old nun and several other elderly anti-nuclear weapons activists broke into the Y-12 facility in Tennessee, <i>got to where the uranium is stored</i>, and spray painted all over everything before getting apprehended. Bad. Ass.<br />8. Old people broke into a nuclear facility--a nuclear facility <i>with security guards</i>. What is wrong with this picture?</div>
<div>
9. I have mixed feelings about Dana leaving. On the one hand, Dana is great at what she does, and we're going to have a deficit of blog content for a while as everyone adjusts to her being gone. On the other hand, the reason I get to write for the blog is because she's leaving. So.</div>
<div>
10. Seriously considering just doing the Fulbright application. Not sure I want it. Not sure I don't.</div>
<div>
11. Andy: "I will be the chair of BIP next year, FYI."<br />Me: "Sweetness."<br />Andy: "That was not my reaction."</div>annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-16348380233835330762012-07-28T17:55:00.001-05:002012-07-28T17:55:26.877-05:00I see what you did there."Would you like to <i>tailor</i> your meal with chips or a drink?" -- cashier at Taylor Gourmet<br />
<br />annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-25706694121470574682012-07-24T20:45:00.000-05:002012-07-24T20:45:22.711-05:00My iron is not actually an iron.It is a fire-breathing dragon masquerading as an iron.<br />
<br />
STOP HISSING AT ME I JUST WANT TO PRESS THIS SKIRT NOT HAVE YOU BELCH STEAM ALL OVER THE ROOMannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-25848457937129296092012-07-23T18:30:00.002-05:002012-07-23T18:30:52.482-05:00< br >There are days when I second-guess myself: when I sit at my desk and edit footnotes in our CMS, or when I go searching for work and find myself stuck configuring redirects. I told Ben that I am happy with the decision I made, and most days I am, and long term I will be, but there are days.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I work for an organization at the intersection of defense politics and journalism. The first part matches my interests; the latter part matches my skills. I watch as young interns--interns who could not explain the prisoner's dilemma or decode the acronym EIT--tag along to think-tank events and sit in on meetings with legends in the field. I am tethered to my desk. I wait.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Perhaps I feel I am entitled. I'd like to think I don't, but I'd also like to think I'm entitled to something for doing the grunt work for so many years, for fighting for opportunities and creating lemonade without any lemons. Ben is trying so very hard, but he gets shot down from above. He is angry. I am tired. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I know that effort eventually results in reaching a goal. I know that I must wait, and I do, and I am, because there is really nothing else to do. Ben said, "You succeed early and you succeed often and eventually somebody notices." I feel as though people are noticing, slowly. The product of that notice will come later, I think. I know it will. It has to. I am waiting. I am ready. </div>annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-8604477529059061232012-07-23T17:34:00.002-05:002012-07-23T17:35:10.898-05:00Things that amuse me:1. Tourists who run across G Street because they don't think they'll be able to make it in 15 seconds<br />
2. 50-year-old-women carrying Forever 21 bags<br />
3. Editing footnotes. Oh wait. Not.annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-77436990911839239792012-07-23T17:33:00.001-05:002012-07-23T17:35:57.168-05:00Work.Andre: I left a watermelon out on the counter for a year once.<br />
Ben: That is quite the devotion to not cleaning.annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-75962548864490536182012-07-22T22:19:00.003-05:002012-07-22T22:19:34.406-05:00I have been listening to this nonstop recently.It is a gorgeous, heartbreaking song. (It also sounds great on ukulele, which I have been practicing a lot lately, so that is gratifying as well.)<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/GlrJaw5HK6g" width="420"></iframe>annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-81891966908643477602012-07-22T11:41:00.004-05:002012-07-22T11:41:33.806-05:00Ben's BBQAte lots of grilled asparagus. Borrowed <i>Predators of War </i>(!). Had wonderfully intense conversations about the state of longform journalism and the DIA. Used the acronym "DIA" <i>and everyone knew what it meant.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
This is a fantastic city.annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-75209587124244991862012-07-20T19:29:00.000-05:002012-07-20T19:29:00.011-05:00Texts from this week<i>Sent:</i><br />
"We are not having a fight over the blender. All is well in Blender Land."<br />
<br />
<i>Received:</i><br />
"In order to know you will do due diligence on Honors, I am giving you a test."<br />
Me: #snark #resistance<br />
"Well, I need motivation to be a good advisor."annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-28861425086983650972012-07-19T22:03:00.001-05:002012-07-19T22:03:07.600-05:00alsoI'm currently updating/revising our Wikipedia page at work. As one might imagine, learning Wikipedia's pseudo-HTML and applying it to five bazillion links is not particularly enthralling. Still, I flew through the content once I got to the national security section of the page, despite the fact that it was one of the most involved given the amount of weapons systems we investigate. It was fascinating to me to learn the complete names of aircraft we make a point of disliking. (The F-35, for instance, sometimes referred to as the Joint Strike Fighter or just the JSF, is actually the Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning II. You can garner so much from that name: that Lockheed makes the plane, which brings with it a whole host of connotations and associations; that it's likely descended from or at least least related to the X-35, which is true; and that it's probably fast, which is also true. Beyond this, there are three variations of the F-35--A, B, and C--which all have slightly different functions.) <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
From a young age, I've been drawn to weapons, action movies, ninja animes, and the like. There is no clear reason for this, aside from an innate disposition towards reacting violently. (A boy in 5th grade called my construction paper Viking ship ugly. I punched him in the arm. I have a great punch.) Both of my grandfathers served in the Navy, and I have a cousin in the FBI, but I did not know these things until much later. But more on this soon. First, another work story.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Earlier this week, Ben was back in the office with documents from a meeting with a whistleblower. This is a rather sensitive operation, and it's always exciting to be sitting on a great piece of news, so there was an urgency on the 5th floor that I hadn't felt before. It was reminiscent of a newsroom, but without the madly ringing phones and the pressure of a print deadline. (All deadlines here are self-imposed.) As I sped down the hallway, taking documents to David for analysis, I welcomed the familiar adrenaline rush minus the fear of a source not coming through and a subpar product being sent to press. It was a good feeling. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I suppose I mention this because I am attracted to haste. The world moves quickly, and I move quickly within it. Much like the pull I feel towards defense and security issues, I cannot explain this entirely either. Perhaps it is because I am naturally competitive but also rather introverted, so I became rather good at competing with myself. How many pages can I read in an hour? As a teenager, I introduced a risk factor: how fast can I take this turn without spinning out? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Suppose, then, that I like risk. I am also very much a fan of comfort. There is something deeply relaxing about sinking into a piece of creative writing and emerging cleansed. I am not always in the best frame of mind when I start writing (it is, in fact, usually a prerequisite), but I always feel better afterwards. I like taking leisurely hours to explore new cities, to wander with an end vaguely in mind. I suppose there is a risk here as well: I may end up horribly lost, and I have. I may vomit wordshit onto the page, and I have. But I may also find something beautiful within myself, and that is worth that first unsure step.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
These are two different types of risk--danger and uncertainty--and I think I need both. As a college freshman, I tried to convince myself that Georgetown's Masters in Security Studies was right for me, and the degree's focus was on exactly what I wanted to do (and, it is worth mentioning, what I still want to do). But the uncertainty there is missing; having lived here for a little over a month now, D.C. is constantly shifting, but Georgetown holds fast to the hold world of wannabe-Southern debutantes mixed with northern pretention. There is only monotony there. Then I turned to Tufts' Masters in Law and Diplomacy, which is a comprehensive, close-knit program with an academic spin and a friendly feel, but here, I worry that it might be too broad. I worry about being in Boston, where I would fail to escape the problem that has plagued me for my entire life: there are very few opportunities in what I want to do in most places. There is very little danger for a whole lot of uncertainty.<br /><br />Then there is the Marshall Scholarship at King's College London, where one can get an entire degree in terrorism studies. I've wavered on this, but I've learned that wavering is good. I wavered on Berlin. I wavered on changing my major. I've wavered on every large decision I've ever made--and I've never regretted any of them (save one, but I didn't make it wisely). King's is an entirely new, entirely uncertain environment, and the degree topic is very, very dangerous. It draws me in, and I am enamored.<br /><br />I am also fickle, and my likes and dislikes are fleeting. Whatever I say otherwise, I am terrified of the future.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-12615420542416088082012-07-18T22:05:00.002-05:002012-07-18T22:05:51.973-05:00This has been a 10-song playlist for your Wednesday night.1. E.S. Posthumus: Unstoppable<br />
(Lindsey and Cole did a pasodoble to this on So You Think You Can Dance last week. It was gorgeous.)<br />
2. Dennis Ferrer: Hey Hey (DF's Attention Vocal Mix)<br />
(Alexa and Daniel did a jazz routine to this on SYTYCD last week. If anything, it was clunky, and I enjoyed the music significantly more than the performance.)<br />
3. Steed Lord: It's What U Do 2 Me (Jack Beats Remix)<br />
(Ahhhhhh new mix.)<br />
4. Blaqk Audio: Snuff on Digital<br />
(In honor of them officially announcing the release date for their new album...for about the tenth time. But they changed their cover photo on their Facebook page, so it clearly must be the real deal this time around. Hashtag logic.)<br />
5. Bombadil: Honeymoon<br />
(I will never get tired of this song.)<br />
6. The Airborne Toxic Event: All I Ever Wanted<br />
(The best concert to which I have ever been. Hands down.)<br />
7. Steed Lord: 123, If You Want Me<br />
(Oldie but a goodie.)<br />
8. The Noisettes: <i>Sister Rosetta</i><br />
(...this is off of the <i>Breaking Dawn</i> soundtrack. Does Breaking Dawn even deserve to be italicized? No, it does not. But this song is so great that it does. Song name changed to reflect this fact.)<br />
9. Bombadil: So Many Ways to Die<br />
(You are exactly who you choose.)<br />
10. AFI: Silver and Cold<br />
(Oh my beautiful one.)annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-89272595484213479332012-07-15T10:09:00.003-05:002012-07-15T10:09:57.678-05:00Apparently, heaven is in California.(An email I received this morning.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Hi,<br />
This is a personal message from God Allah to you. It may be the only message you ever receive from Me so please respond.<br />
I, God Allah, am here in the USA looking for a church or mosque, etc. to receive Me. If you know of a church or mosque, business, community, etc. available to receive and welcome God Allah for the purposes previously explained by the religious organizations, please email Me at god @llah.MOBI (no spaces).<br />
For more information please contact Allah's VM/SMS +<span class="" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT74_com_zimbra_phone"><a href="callto:1-707-925-2488" style="color: darkblue; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">1-707-925-2488</a></span><br />
Emergency Message,<br />
God Allah<br />
P.O. Box 701<br />
San Mateo, CA 94401<br />
USA<br />
<br />
(Boy, do I feel special! Thanks, God Allah!)<br />annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-20275332902506974902012-07-07T21:38:00.002-05:002012-07-07T21:40:48.175-05:00Bombadil<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EeoBJcYpxP4" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
I am in love with this band. And this song.<br />
<br />
(Also, it's weird to hear me say this, but don't download this song for free. Buy it. It's worth it. Also, having taken Bryan's (the guitarist's) day job, I can testify to the fact that it doesn't pay much. Help these great guys out.)annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-82212780218163010382012-07-07T21:29:00.000-05:002012-07-08T11:34:07.817-05:00Part of a song?<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Thought you were pretty, oh so pretty</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When you wore your leather jacket (and nothing else)</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And made me wait</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Thought you were lovely, oh so lovely</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When you took me all apart</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And made me change</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
You were infuriating</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And you were integrating yourself into my soul, into my
being</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I was nothing like I seemed</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I didn’t know</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I didn’t care</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As long as you were standing there</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And I couldn’t leave you there</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And I couldn’t leave you be</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And maybe it’s a function of my personality but</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If I ever saw you again</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I would forcibly remove your head from your neck</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But I bet you’d like that</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Because you always liked it rough</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
You liked it rough, yes you did, yes you did</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Thought you were wicked, oh so wicked</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When you tied my hands behind my back</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And made me wait</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Thought you were worth it, oh so worth it</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
When you forced me all apart</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And made me change</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
You were captivating</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And you were orchestrating our dance to your own symphony,
your beat</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It was nothing like it seemed</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I didn’t know </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I didn’t care</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
As long as you were standing there</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And I couldn’t leave you there</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And I couldn’t leave you be</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And maybe it’s a function of the way that you made me but</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If I ever saw you again</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I would sink my teeth into your skin</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But I bet you’d like that</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
Because you liked to make
things tough</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
Because you always made things
tough</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
You made me tough</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;">
Yes you did</div>annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-66834792030228845122012-07-05T21:44:00.003-05:002012-07-23T18:33:06.492-05:00Texts I have sent this week:"Ben has been sitting at his desk going "holy hell" for most of the day, and Chris was talking earlier about pickling someone's head and putting it in a bird cage. I think it'll be fine."annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-27757113100541589272012-06-30T18:27:00.003-05:002012-06-30T18:27:37.023-05:00It's all relative.Other half: Behold, our D.C. enemies: Stealth Dog and Demon Potato.<br />
<br />annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-82148855458294546622012-06-30T16:35:00.001-05:002012-06-30T16:36:15.930-05:00G St., between 11th and 12th, NW6-25<br />
<br />
We are outside for the cupcake truck. Earlier I had visited DC Ballers, a food truck whose hijabed proprietress does not coalesce well with the "ballers" image, and spotted the telltale pink truck in front of the bank. It is common practice at the office to send out a mass email whenever the cupcake truck comes around; I had done so, Ben had seen it and decided that we would discuss the exposure of hiring practices at the Department of Homeland Security at the little plaza behind Cosi, dessert in hand.<br />
<br />
Ben goes for the "dive-in" strategy and emerges covered in red velvet cake crumbs. He smiles sheepishly.<br />
<br />
"No good way to eat these, is there?"<br />
<br />
"Not really." I am sure my lips are coated in chocolate by this point.<br />
<br />
A homeless man walks up, says something unintelligible. Ben reacts instinctively and pulls a dollar from his wallet. The man leaves, the rain comes, and we rush inside.<br />
<br />
6-27<br />
<br />
There is a man sitting on one of the benches lining the western side of the street. "Ma'am, some change?" he calls to passersby. "Ma'am? Ma'am?"<br />
<br />
I do not carry change. I have never carried change. It annoys me to do so, to have coins littering the bottom of my purse and jingling when I move. I am annoyed now.<br />
<br />
"White bitch!" he yells after me.<br />
<br />
I'm sure he made a killing that day.<br />
<br />
<br />annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-47485940724978103372012-06-30T16:02:00.002-05:002012-06-30T16:02:56.727-05:00"Throw the body in the lake...""...and take a chance that no one finds it."<br />
<br />
^ Any band that has a song that begins like that has got to be good.<br />
<br />
(Bombadil certainly was at the Red Palace on Thursday night.)annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-38823838155934199482012-06-27T21:51:00.000-05:002012-06-27T21:51:19.194-05:00Je veux tout apprendre.annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-89446383463209178932012-06-19T20:50:00.003-05:002012-06-19T20:50:34.644-05:00D4I spend a lot of time every day waiting for the bus. The bus comes up I Street, stopping at the southeast corner of Franklin Square. It then circles the square, stopping again at the northwest and northeast corners (but not the southwest). I wait for it at the southeast corner, the Washington summer clinging to me like a second skin. Pigeons and squirrels flock to the old men who sit on the park benches; they have spent too much time being fed by people who spend too much time waiting for the bus.<br />
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There are several buses that stop at Franklin Square: the ones to Maryland are silver and blue, shiny, new. The Circulator comes by occasionally, maneuvering through traffic as fast as one can possibly maneuver in downtown D.C. traffic at 5 p.m. on a weekday. The Circulator only stops at places of great tourist interest, and I live on the edge of Trinidad, so I watch it speed past as my bus, old and lumbering, crawls up to the curb.<br />
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Trinidad is "a garden community," according to the banner on a streetlight by my house, but there are few gardens here. The Asian woman two doors down has a struggling bunch of daisies in her front yard. Walk two blocks west, and the street is lined with colorful rowhouses. Someone is having an art sale; a man is washing his dog, which pants in happiness.<br />
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Walk a block south, and the rowhouses are still prim on the west side of the street. On the east side, razor wire encases the top of the fence surrounding an old apartment building, most of the windows boarded over. Supposedly they're doing something with it; no one knows. On H Street, just a ways further, guitarists strum late into the night at the Red Palace while grad students lick tzatziki from their fingers at the neighborhood schwarma joint. The windows of each shop are covered with bars--just in case.<br />
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Each morning, I stand around the corner from my house in front of the Chinese/seafood/chicken takeout place that's always open, except at 8 in the morning when I'm waiting for the bus. The bus comes and takes me past the rowhouses, past NPR, past the Government Accountability Office, past homeless men shaking cups of change, past Capitol Hill, past the Library of Congress, past dilapidated rowhouses clinging to the side of high rises, past the beginnings of buildings that will scrape the sky to the southeast corner of Franklin Square. I walk four blocks southeast to work.annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-60741427255861643752012-06-12T19:31:00.003-05:002012-06-12T19:31:44.755-05:00I don't like D.C. I do.Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I don't like the fact that public transportation is so expensive, that the buses I take only run every 25 minutes or so at best, and that an absolutely beautiful neighborhood is only two blocks south of my very sketchy one. I do not like that the CVS by my work sells $4 jars of peanut butter (because that is a lot of money for peanut butter) and that I do not feel safe walking to the Aldi by my apartment.<br />
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I like my 5th floor, sort-of-near Franklin Square office. I like the fact that POGO champions the Oxford comma, that they're absorbing the CDI, and that everyone is so willing to teach me about their work. I like that we have three chocolate supplies. I like that I may get to go to a Hill meeting at some point. I like that I get to have lunch tomorrow with the guy who pioneered the study of foreign lobbying.<br />
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So perhaps it is more accurate to say that I love/hate D.C. I need to give it time. It took me a few weeks to fall in love with Berlin. The same thing will likely happen in D.C.<br />
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(Also, there is an H&M literally across the street from my work and a food truck that pulls up around the corner at about 11 a.m. and sells kebab. It is $10 kebab, but still: kebab.)annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177563862085287528.post-2481175199318452182012-06-06T20:54:00.001-05:002012-06-06T20:54:15.661-05:00toil and trouble<span style="font-size: large;">"You must stay drunk on writing so that reality cannot destroy you." - Ray Bradbury</span><br />
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When I was in middle school, I read <i>Fahrenheit 451</i>. I was a bit too young at the time to understand the intricacies of the story--the dark, multilayered flourishes that make Bradbury Bradbury, which I would later discover in <i>Something Wicked This Way Comes</i>--but the point has stuck with me ever since: read. And when you cannot read, create.<br />
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"Remember the firemen are rarely necessary. The public stopped reading of its own accord."annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01478867637053436873noreply@blogger.com0