Krispie Kreme Cometh

Krispie Kreme Donut shop grand openings are *the* place to be (as Krispie Kreme has informed me). Having previously never been to one, I was given the chance this morning to fill the void that I had never even known existed. At 5:30am today, Krispie Kreme opened up shop at its newest location on Dupont Circle (colloquially known as "The Fruit Loop"). The first person in line was to receive a year’s supply of free donuts, the next 100 get free t-shirts...etc., etc.: I kinda skimmed over that info in the paper; I have a firm grasp of my condition of not being able to get up at 4:30am or earlier to get in line for free donuts that will just make me fat anyway. "Oh, but then hey!" They’re giving out free donuts all day. That I can do. That I must do.

I walked with Becca to the Foggy Bottom metro (she needed to leave for Philadelphia for a conference) at 7:00am and then set out on my holy quest: free food. Mmmm....donuts...(gurgle...).

As I got closer to Dupont Circle, I saw the occasional pedestrian eating a donut. As I got closer and closer to Dupont Circle, the donuts in the hands of those I passed became less and less eaten. I was gettin’ closer, baby.

I found it, just where Mapquest said it would be (my journey was planned during my laborious two minutes of preparation the prior night). Although the actual store wasn’t open (and this was a scary two minutes for me) they were handing out free donuts on the other side of the store on the street. A lady just had her donut cart out there and was simply whisking them out to passerbys. "Hello, the store opens at 10!" she told me, but I had already gotten what I came for. Actually, I found out where the donuts were being handed out when I saw the TV cameras covering the event just as I got on the circle. Mmmm....my chocolate icing-ed glazed gooey goodness....(gurgle). Capitalizing on the donut-hungry crowd was a stew of miscellaneous interests which thrust pamphlets in my hand as I walked away: Re-elect Harold Brazil, Jews for Jesus, Violet Garden Chinese Restaurant, etc. Might I add: the Jews for Jesus girl was a total cutie...I almost was swept under her hypnotic spell. (though, I’m not Jewish so I don’t think they’d want me). Oh, the vile tactics employed by that sinister cult!!!

Krispie Kreme has a pretty sweet seat there on Dupont: it’s right at the exit to the metro station there. Who wouldn’t stop in for a donut? They’re gonna hit all those commuters. It would be quicker to just have a machine injecting lard into people’s arms as they passed by. I think when I come back to visit D.C. the next time, there’s gonna be a lot more of it to love.

The Cable Guy(s)

I’m getting cable de-installed Wednesday (and might I add very happy to paying a future monthly cable bill of $15 where I’m going opposed to the $115 I’ve been paying). Having set the appointment up about a month ago, I was a little hazy on when the appointment was. So, I called up Starpower and made inquiry, and then understood why I couldn’t remember the scheduled appointment time...there never was one. The company guy could stop by any time between 8am and 8pm. I’m basically a prisoner in my room waiting for him to show up. Um, it’s not like I’m moving out this weekend or anything, ya know, not like I have things to do. Does that suck or what? Stereotypical cable company-ness. When they were originally installed my cable the also gave me a similarly loose time to stop by and I was likewise stuck in the room (but happened to be busy putting together furniture so it wasn’t too bad). The kick is the guy never showed up that day...his blowing me off got me a free first month of cable, which was good, but if Starpower is a no-show on Wednesday then someone is gonna be SOL because T.J.’s not dealing with a 8-8 possibility for Thursday or Friday and I won’t be here Monday - I’m taking off and @#%& their cable equipment.

Unfortunately, as they have my debit card information, they’ll probably make me the screwed one if it comes to that.

Unbreakable

Unbreakable bubbles are very breakable. They’re also less like bubbles then floating blobs of goo, which is all the more apparent should one break on you. Should you happen to blow a bunch while inside you’ll be finding them all over the ground for the next hour, and as the hour passes you’ll be finding them in increasingly deteriorated states, slowly dissolving into shinny shapeless puddles, not unlike a salted slug.

I prefer regular-breakable-bubbles. My brother and I would when we were younger would play a contest with who could catch the most in his mouth. Ah, the rewarding taste of soap. We were also too young to understand whether to look for toxic vs. non-toxic bubbles. I’m sure they were all non-toxic. Afect not brane mI not it did.

The people in my neighborhood; the people I see each day

Today was probably the last time I'll ever do major shopping at the Safeway in The Watergate, my local grocery store. I'm personally happy at the possibility of now doing my food shopping at a store with fresh meat and non-rotting produce. Besides groceries, that particularly Safeway happens to be a good place to go star-gazing and possibly catch a glimpse of one of Washington's high-and-mighty (although it always baffled me why Washington's elite didn't shop at a nicer place...you think they'd go someplace that was clean). So, without further adieu, I present:

The List of People I've Seen at Safeway

1. Anthony Williams, Washington D.C. Mayor
2. Condoleezza Rice, National Security Advisor

Disappointingly, I've never seen (former) Senator Bob Dole, whom I've heard from friends is very much the regular down there. I guess Bob gets his microwavable popcorn some other time than when I do my shopping.

Back where I belong

I am a student again. I have been since 4:30 yesterday afternoon.

This isn't just a weekend; it's my summer vacation (altogether I do only have a week or so of it). Earlier today I was making plans for winter break. Oh, that brings me back. I'll actually have one of those. Perhaps tomorrow I'm going back-to-school shopping: new pens, notebooks, etc. All fresh and new. My new "job" will be self-improvement: learning.

No more 7-4:30 days. No more commuting. No more wearing ties to work. No more incompetent boss.

Yes, I'll have homework, but also more free time to do it in, and the work I'll be doing will actually be productive; it'll be helping to make me a better, smarter person. I'll have more time to go to the gym. Actually, I'll even have a gym to go to. I'll be interacting with people my own age.

I'm am no longer a government employee, I am now a student. I think it's time to write my congressman and demand that taxes be lowered; I can cite many examples of slack and inefficiency that could be picked up.

After seeing what the "real world" is like, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to go back.

Ah, the last day of work...

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Cryin's not for me'
Cause, I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'...


Because I'm free
Nothin's worryin' me

Olympic viewing

I haven't watched as much of the Olympics this year as in the past (though judging from the empty stadiums on TV, neither has the rest of the world). Last night I decided I had better finally watch just to say that I did and placate a potential future guilty conscience in case I totally miss the games and then find my self with a longing for some Olympics but with four more years to go. The events I saw were fun to watch. I think it'd be overkill if I spent the full two weeks watching, but I'm going to try and catch a few more nights' worth (when NBC conveniently air the main draw events). Next week I'll be done with work so I can watch later (primetime footage runs 8-12) without worrying about having to get up at 5:40am the next day. The downer to that is that this week, the one in which I have to go to bed early, is gymnastics, which I really like. They had footage on last night but I couldn't stay up to watch floor routine, which is my favorite event in the Olympics. I did get to see the vault and uneven bars, but then had to turn off the TV, as it was getting late...it's like they show the popular event last, as if to make you watch the whole thing...why on Earth would they do that? Perhaps it has something to do with all those Super Bowl-funny TV commercials...

My morning commute

I hope to leave my room at 6:20 latest in order to catch the subway train that will still make me tardy to work, though inconspicuously so. I walk down my hallway cursing the faces I've never seen behind each of the doors I pass, believing they're comfortable in their beds - I imagine smiles on all of their dreaming faces. When I reach the elevator I say a quick prayer that the elevator will not be broken and so I will not have to take the stairs down. Riding or walking to the basement I feel like the only person in the whole world; I've never seen anyone in my building as I leave to go to work. As I reach the back door to my apartment and prepare to step out I say a second prayer that it will not be raining and so that I will not be forced to fumble in my sling-bag for the umbrella that's too small the keep me dry, anyway. I pray it's not raining but I hope it has just recently rained - the damp pavement outside shimmers in the moonlight and it's one of the prettiest things I'll see that day. When it was winter Rebekah was in New Hall and as I crossed 24th I could see her closed window and I knew she was laying snug in her covers just past the closed blinds. I thought of her and of seeing her later that day. Sometimes Orion was visible directly over her dorm. As I walk toward the metro entrance people in lab coats or scrubs or both are hurrying into the hospital. I pick up my Express newspaper from Ernest, the wheelchair-bound distributor, who when seeing me coming perks up and folds my newspaper to give to me. He always greets me with a cool "What's up?". I hope he truly remembers my face out of the crowd of other people he must give papers to but I can’t explain why. As I head towards the elevator there is often a crowd heading out of the station; I wonder how much earlier they must have gotten up than I did. Sometimes the blind man I see each morning is in front of me on the escalator or on the metro platform standing stiff as a sentinel. I see him, take a breath, and am thankful for my slight, yet at the same time am filled with admiration for the man who is able to function seemingly so well despite his handicap. I walk down the platform until I come to the air-conditioning vent and stand by it (although it blows only a faint whisper of a breeze). There are sometimes college-aged couples in embrace saying “goodbye” in those early mornings; in a slight way their sight makes me depressed and I wish they didn’t have to say goodbye. I never have to wait more than a couple minutes (barring the occasional fifteen minute track delay) before the train comes. Uncountable commutes have taught me just where to stand for the train’s door to stop right in front of me. Dismal faces file out of the train; no one seems to have any song or happiness in them. Nine times out of ten there will be an empty seat for me to sit down on. If it's an older train, after my first nose-inhale I remember to only breath through my mouth. I take out my folded Express and begin to read. The captions are often humorous and give me a much-needed chuckle on the monotonous ride. At each stop some people get off the train and some get on though I never lift my head off to see. I am just to the entertainment section of the paper when the train stops at L'Enfant Plaza, where I must transfer to the Green Line. I knew just where to get on the train so that I would be put right by the escalator going up to the next level when I got off. Timing counts here: if I see people coming down the escalator then I've already missed my train and will have to wait. At the top of the stairs I turn and begin walking towards the platform. For Yellow Line trains, the next stop is The Pentagon, and there are usually many uniformed servicemen waiting. Last summer the scantily dressed blonde would regularly be there, too. I sometimes watched the rest of the crowed; almost surreally every male head would turn as she got on her train. I chuckled to myself. I assume she was an intern; since last summer's end she has not been back there. My train soon comes and I realize I am in the homestretch of time left before I am in work. I try to savor the taste of freedom. I pull out my paper and continue reading. I am sad because when the paper ends my journey is almost over; I almost feel that if I could read more and even read forever I could just go on forever reading and never go to work. As the train moves along and since our destination is out of the city we lose more people than we pick up on the train, and the cars slowly empty out. I finish the paper around the Southern Ave. stop, just as the metro comes above ground. As we leave the stop we past over what I like to call "the forest". Passing over the trees we also pass over a fairly wide stream. On occasion last summer I'd seen deer drinking from the water there. Everyday I strain looking for another but haven't seen one since then. I never know how long "the forest" goes on for because then we briefly go underground again. I’d like to think of the forest as endless, and that far back in those trees there are whole groups of deer grazing. On our emergence there is a field to the right of the train. It is often misty in the morning. Though for no particular reason I imagine a revolutionary battle being fought down in the mist. The right side of our train faces towards the East or South. As we approach the Naylor road stop, on the rarest of occasions - if I'm very lucky - the sunrise paints the whole sky a multitude of colors: pink, purple, orange, and red. The times I've seen this I could count on one hand. The image could appear on any postcard. I find this one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen though as I then look around the train I feel as though none of the other rides (most of them census employees at this point) see the artwork nature has created. Rather, they just stare down sulkily. We continue on and we reach the cemetery where I first thought on the trip to my second interview at the Census, "I can never work here because this commute is just too long!" - and then we continue on. We keep going and finally reach the Suitland platform. We file out of the train and up the escalator, passing those rushing down to catch the train we just got off. We keep walking up, over the walkway, where that station's Express distributor is kindly greeting commuters by him. Near him are two young boys shouting "Washington Times! Twenty-Five cents!". I've only seen them make one sale. We keep in a mob as we walk through the parking garage, out the other side to the Census gate. I show my badge the first time and walk through. Before the construction I could walk right across the street but now I must walk through a passage lined with spiders and their webs, which runs a good hundred yards around the construction. I think about how, while keeping my eyes peeled lest I walk into a web, that I will never see the end of this construction. At the building I show my badge a second time. I drag in, walk the two wings to my office, drop down my stuff with a plop and think about how I won't see the sun for nine and a half more hours, and all I'll have to show for the day is being nine and a half hours older.

Competition

We love to team up with others and go head-to-head with some other group of people. We just need a justifying characteristic in forming the group. Then, two former enemy groups may join to face some entirely other group. It could be any characteristic that defines any of the groups. Here are personal examples: At my high school, freshman, sophomores, juniors, and seniors complete against each other all through "Spirit Week" and finally on "Class Night" (Oh, the faculty participates in Class Night too - I think Mr. Anderson is undefeated in Jell-O wrestling). Then, the whole school comes together and root for the high school as its and BMHS's football teams go and get it on each Thanksgiving. Norwalkers all over will then come together to mock people from Darien or New Canaan but then most of those people will likewise come together to cheer the New York sports teams and jeer the Boston teams and the "Massachusetts-side" Connecticut residents who support them. Two Connecticut people from both of those halves of the state would support each other in defending the state against another state, and more broadly the Northeast in contrast to other sections of the county. Back in the day it was East Coast rap vs. West Coast rap. Even more back in the day it was North vs. South, blue vs. gray, Union vs. Confederacy, Yanks vs. Rebs. The whole country is together now in cheering on our American athletes in Athens. In the Olympics it is individual counties against each other, but then countries team up against other groups of countries. For example there is even the constant riff of "The West" vs. "The East". Oh, and if you saw "Independence Day" (and I know you have) you saw the whole planet come together to whop E.T.'s ass.

Growing up the kids on my street would always play touch football. Through the countless games we played we had all been both teammates and opponents of each and every other one in some point in the past, multiple times. For the duration of each individual game our supreme allegiance was to each other of our teammates, even though previously we had not only all been opponents with each other in sport, but we had even all gone to fist-fights with each other as well (in that we were always quick to forgive; the next day we’d need the other guy to make two even numbered teams). The most fun game I can recall was day when a bunch of unfamiliar kids from some unknown place stopped by our block and somehow it became a football game of all of them versus all the kids on my block, united. We all finally got to be teammates against a common "enemy".

We always classify ourselves. It's "I'm with 'us' and you're with 'them'", and that's all it takes for a bitter rivalry. I don't know the cause of this phenomenon. It could be the combination of humans as social animals and our underlying aggressiveness that adds up to this. I couldn't really say.

There are endless lines that we may draw, be it men and women, old and young, democrat and republican, and all the ethnicities, races, religions, etc. I wonder how much conflict has been caused simply by “I'm in this category and you're in that one”. In the Middle East, I don't think they're fighting simply because the other guy believes so and so and that offends me (at least not any more). I think it's now because he's one of 'them' and I'm one of 'us'. Look, at one point most of the people in the region were inter-competing tribes of people. People fought against others from different tribes. Now the tribes have united under a common religion, and they're fighting others from different religions. Former foes are now allies as conflict has simply shifted to new "lines". As long as the lines of distinction remain, well, distinct, and as long as interaction among the opposing sides is prevented or limited (interaction that would allow each side to see those on the other one are underneath it all kind, decent, and good people) I question whether there will ever be peace in the region.

Moving Day I

My mom is currently on the way down to DC to help me ship out the first of two loads of my stuff. In this past week I've slowly been getting stuff organized, though the next three hours will be extra busy for me as I get everything ready, and then tonight will be even busier.

Slowly but surely this past week, my walls have become whiter, the clutter everywhere is now less cluttered as items have fallen into organized boxes. The room is less "mine" now, and is losing it's hominess. It's all really depressing and it reminds me of how my bedroom in Norwalk was as I packed up everything I owned to come to college (I didn't have my own room to come back to, I took everything I had with me as my youngest brother moved in my bedroom). At first I was reluctant to leave my life was it was just so pathetic being around I didn't want to anymore. Not that I want to leave now but I don't want to be here specifically, anymore. Perhaps the un-cozification of my room is necessary for the easiest possible transition out of here.

My earliest memory

My first memory: I recall my father leading me out of the house by the arm towards his car parked on the sidewalk. It was dark out. We got into the car and he began driving. We started going around the block, but that's when my memory "changed" from what it should be. In my memory, my street melts into another one - I'm attributing this to either that my memory is jumbled or more likely I fell asleep and then woke up again, which is more probable because it was nighttime. I then remember walking into a building, which I was told was the hospital. My memory isn't totally fluid in these images and it flashes now to me in the hallway with my dad and some other adults, I think hospital staff. I'm given a Matchbox car (I loved playing with those in my childhood), which was an ambulance. I recall "driving" it throughout the air and making vrrrmmmm noises. My dad then comes and tells me that I have a new baby brother and takes me in to meet him...and I recall my mom and the baby.

That was more or less twenty-one years ago to this moment. Happy birthday, Eric.

[Note: I found it interesting while J.K. Rowling's biography that her first memory was going to meet her baby sister. Popular trend!]

Let the games begin!!!!!

The Battle Royal begins today; the great contest that will unite the globe as we all root for our favorite combatants that we have been waiting years to see. You know what I'm talking about: "Alien vs. Predator". Oh yes, oh yes. Who will prevail? Whoever wins, we lose...or so I've been told.

Wait, I think that movie just might suck. Actually, I know it will suck and it sucks that they're whoring out both franchises, although that is just continuing the tradition of whoring out by making the last two "Alien" movies and that “Predator 2” thing. I wonder if Arnold is going to go see the new movie: "I could take dem boff...."

BUT REALLY - the Olympics start today!!! I LOVE the Olympics. They're so fun. I love them! I love cheering America and shouting "USA!!" I want our men and women to win every medal and I don’t care if we’re already a superpower and have so much anyway. My veins will run red, white, and blue the next two weeks. Furthermore, as in games past I just may be moved to do cartwheels around the room during commercial breaks from gymnastics’ coverage. This year, the games are back in Athens. The baby has come home all grown up.

The ancient Greeks, who brought us the tradition we use for out modern-day games, loved sports. Races, throwing stuff like discs or javelins, boxing; maybe not so much synchronized swimming or bobsledding, but I suppose those are just athletic strides we have made in the millennia. With the Greeks, anything was an excuse for games. If you've read the very good Iliad or seen the very very bad Troy you know that they even had days of games as part of the funeral process. I don't know that I'd be in the mood for that I was mourning ("Oh no, Patroclus has died! Let's strip down and wrassle!!!") but I shouldn’t judge; the Greeks were likely the most rational of all civilizations there have ever been.

I've read that with the Hellenic-Ones, love of games actually got to be too much of a problem: when on duty Greeks would rather compete in athletics amongst themselves than be disciplined soldiers, so often the commanders had to restrict games. We have similar stirrings in our society today, where many kids would rather play basketball than do their homework. On the other hand, I suppose that's a lesser evil than of another problem segment of our society – the growing numbers of obese - of whom there are some, sadly, too lazy to either play basketball or do their homework.

Countdown

We loves us our countdowns: four shopping days left 'til Christmas or fifty more days left of school. This morning as I walked into work I counted that I only have six days left! Of course, one countdown is never enough so I then figured I only had eleven accursed more metro rides to or from the Census. Tomorrow it'll be five days and nine rides...sweet! Then in the hallway I was talking to a lady that works in my office when another lady who works across the hall walked past and just said, "two days!!" It was pointed out to me that in two days she was getting married. I guess her happy day comes a bit before mine, but we both are counter-downers.

My first semester in college especially (and sometime after) I always ended e-mails to my mom with "see you in __!!!", with like, “57” or whatever. That first one was a long countdown. I went from move-in to Thanksgiving without being home, which ended up being like ninety or so days.

Besides just not being home I really didn't have contact with my family outside my mom. She was the only one I talked to on the phone. Since I didn't have a cell phone or any way of making long distance calls all I could do was call her at work, because her office had a 1-800 number. I called her maybe once a week tops, if that often. When she had gone to college they wouldn't let anyone call home the first week (to curb immediate homesickness), and I did the same thing voluntarily before I called the first time. The only time I did call home actually was when I bought a small phone card to make a birthday call to my little brother, late September. Grrr, I hated those typical GW students with their cell phones all calling each other and I had to go and use a payphone just to make calls around the city to set up appointments with the DNC/RNC, which were required to complete a term paper. Grrr...anyway, so my main contact with my family was an e-mail every weekday from my mom. Once in a while I'd see my brothers on IM, but except that one time calling Scott I didn't hear their voices or have any type of contact with my father, period, during those first ninety days. That's ok, though. I really wasn't homesick.

So why was I counting down, then? Eh, I wasn't homesick but I was sick of school, of course. I just needed a break from the work, that life, the dorm with those loud people being drunk at 2am on Saturday when I was trying to sleep, etc. I wanted to taste real pizza, not fake D.C. stuff. But really, I just wanted a break from the stress, and so to bring me comfort, I counted down.

Crazy ≠ Evil

Terrorists and dictators are often labeled in media as "crazy" or "insane". I can't help but question whether that's true or an insult from a biased source. "Crazy" is wearing shoes on your feet. Targeting children and innocent civilians with bombs is evil. An emotional reporter might report such as an act committed by “insane” criminals, but I'm pretty sure they knew what they were doing. As much as it sickens me to say it, they're economizing. The terrorists aren't a sovereign nation with access to planes and bombs, so they're seeking to do the most damage (or get the most attention, at least) they can with their limited means. Their methods are immoral, but clearly calculated.

I'm uncertain whether a dictator who rose to power could have truly been insane, either. While I've learned never to underestimate the stupidity of large groups of people, especially in the case of those who rose from humble beginnings I feel as though at least some rational people, somewhere, would have protested contesting their freedoms to a literal lunatic, and prevented that assent to power. Joesph Stalin was born into poverty, a far cry from where he ended up. I confess I'm not educated enough on to history to know the full details of his rise to rule. He must have had a good deal of charisma to reach his position. On the other hand, I have heard of his paranoia. Lenin himself wrote that he was not to be trusted. Maybe his rise was the result of freak circumstance. It is unfortunate he wasn't stopped somewhere, and curious because he had a long road from the bottom to the top - he wasn't born with an army under him. Caligula was, and he really was insane. Many medieval monarchs born with armies under them were also insane, what with the inbreeding and all.

What kills me is when people say that Adolf Hitler was the most evil person ever...AND he was crazy. I just find that to be inconsistent. The state of insanity grants clemency by removing one from the responsibility of their actions - indeed, it's a legal defense (in this country, anyway). I feel that in naming Hitler "insane" he is (at least partially) exonerated of the atrocities he committed against millions. I believe that sanity is a necessary condition for sin, and I believe it's a condition met by most terrorists and dictators. That should be considered before the individual(s) be named "insane". True evil is knowing what you're doing is wrong and then doing it anyway.

Courage under fire

Becca left for Florida early yesterday morning and won't be returning until next Wednesday. At approximately 2:30 yesterday afternoon she called me from home and her first words were, "T.J., your [room] keys are in my bag!" I thought, "no way" and reached over to my sling bag where they should be attached to the key chain to confirm her error and that they were really there...but they weren't. Suddenly, every sweat pore on my body opened up: Becca has my keys. Becca is in Florida. My keys are in Florida. My keys are in Florida until Wednesday. I am going to be locked out of my room, and indeed the building, for a week and a half. Even if I get let into my room by my landlady I'll have to risk leaving the door unlocked and basically be a prisoner in the room anyway, as I'll be relying on sneaking into the locked building by chancing that someone comes out as I need to get in. Oh, that's a dilly of a pickle. This instantly flashed through my mind and then I took a breath and calmly said, "It's fine, let me call the landlady" without even a quiver in my voice. I called and coolly explained the situation. She said “no problem”, that she would leave the office copy of my room key and a building key on my bed, and that she'd leave the door unlocked for me. The only condition was that I'd have to go out that afternoon and get copies made of her office keys in case of an emergency. It was good I caught her when I did as she was leaving at 4:00 on the dot - an hour before I usually get home - so if I hadn’t caught her before then I really would have been crushed testicles. After I got off the phone with her I called Becca back and soothingly promised that everything was fine, because in fact, it was.

I think yesterday's hurdle again illustrated to me that I have a talent for remaining calm and clear minded in the face of an imminent problem. The classical example I give (and have given on job interviews even) is the time I got lost in the Moscow subway system with the tour bus about to leave. Communist inefficiency gave Moscow the most beautiful subway system and stations in the world while the rural peasants starved. That famine was water under the bridge in 2001, and having heard that the Moscow subway system was not to be missed, I made it a point to see it if given the chance while in Moscow. My group was finishing up lunch with a larger group of touring students and we were given some free time before the bus left. A bunch of students took off to see the world's largest McDonald's (which I admit would have been cool) but two friends heard there was a subway station in the area and grabbed me to come along. We thought we'd just ride the escalator down, take a peek, and then come back up. However, at the bottom of the escalator was a long tunnel which as we walked along was eventually joined by *many* other tunnels leading to the platform. Past the point of no return it became clear to us that we were very lost. You'd have to be a mole person (or able to comprehend Russian) to get out. We figured we'd just keep going, find the platform, and hopefully follow some people out to some opening somewhere. We did find the platform, and it was so-so looking (the tunnels themselves actually had some good-looking carvings). It turned out we weren't even at one of the nicer stations. Anyway, at that point we were not thinking at all about the artwork but rather that our bus was leaving in fifteen minutes and we were lost! We finally made our way above ground by following people...but it didn't turn out to be the entrance we had gone in to! The three of us had no clue where we were. We had only minutes to find our group. Semester at Sea had made if very clear at that point in the voyage that no one would be waited for. If you weren't there when the bus (or ship) departed then you were on your own. I'll save Russia stories for another day but I can tell you now that to be on our own in that country would have been a bad thing. It was beautiful and possessed a rich culture, don't get me wrong, but crime was rampant. I was one of the lucky ones who didn't get pick pocketed, for example. Moscow was an overnight train ride away from St. Petersburg where our ship was, and I honestly don't think we could have ever made it back trouble-free. Thoughts of that first night alone were scary enough. I was sure daylight would find me lying in a gutter and my two female friends as sex slaves in Siberia. I don't think my soul would have gone to Heaven if I died in that country. I'm kidding, but just slightly; there really was legitimate cause for alarm. I was still calm (at least outwardly…I was *very* concerned), and as my panicked friend insisted she knew the way, I looked up and saw a familiar building. I instantly oriented myself, determined we were in fact going in the opposite direction we should be, and then quietly explained the situation to my friends. They finally relented and I got to go my way, still calm but secretly with fingers crossed. It turns out that I was right, and we by a few minutes made it to the bus. As I sat down I was still quiet though I could feel my heart bursting out of my ribs. If I panicked I never would have seen that building and who knows what would have happened.

So, I can remain calm while working under severe pressure. What I need to work on, I’ll admit though, is remaining calm without stress! It might be February and I'm sweating that I'll never figure out my tax forms in time, or fretting that I won't find anyone to take to the senior prom….as a sophomore! Maybe I just need tension in my life to feel normal. What the heck is wrong with me!?!

Going away to college

I remember that hot August day, 1999: move-in day of my freshman year of college. Having moved in early in the day, I was then free to escape the chaos occurring on my floor and wander around worrying about where my next meal would be coming from.

F Street outside my dorm was a bustle of activity. 1000+ students would move in during that weekend, and with family/friends brought along for the move I could easily guess at least 4000 people passed through the doors, if not more. For most if not all of the students moving in, this would be the first extended time away from "the nest". The street was full of hugging families and the air full of “goodbye”s. I was one of the least homesick, but I can understand how it would be tough for many.

A scene on F & 19th stuck me and I remember it vividly even five years later. There was a guy and a girl embracing each other and bawling their eyes out. Three or four of one of their family members (I'm assuming) where standing a few feet back sobbing just as hard. With the situation on sight and what moans I could hear them saying to each other it was pretty obvious that of this boyfriend/girlfriend one of them was coming to school at GW and the other wasn't. Their tear-soaked goodbye, I can only imagine, was the end of days together back in the hometown and the beginning of some at least temporarily, and more likely substantial, time apart. The couple was trembling and shaking with emotion. "It's like a fairy tale..." observed one of the family members.

Being in a "macho" phase at the time, I mentally gagged myself. I didn’t think it was like a fairy tale. Actually, I still don't think so. I will concede that there were genuinely sad, though. For whatever reason that first year I sometimes thought back to that couple, and as is apparent I still am. I suppose the couple is on my mind because I wonder after all the theatrics if they're still together. I know maybe one high school couple that is still together at the present, and also so many couples going into college that didn't even make it through the first year. So, I find the situation ironic because those two wailing kids that were so sad to be away from each other probably didn't even stay together. I wonder what happened. Was it mutual? The common story is that one develops feelings for another and breaks it off. Alas, I'll never know how that little drama played out.

Again, I am just interested in noting the irony of the situation. I don't think they're losers or anything for showing emotion. Indeed, another reason I think the scene popped into my head again because I am preparing to say goodbye to my girlfriend of almost two years in about three weeks for a least two months' duration; we’ll be apart at least one year intermittent total (actually I just said goodbye to her this morning as she left home for a week and a half). I can tell you now I'll be sad during the goodbye scene, but there won't be a repeat of what I saw move-in day by either of us. I think we're both very confident that the distance won't be a problem and that after the next year we'll be together again. We're both leagues more mature than those two college freshman and I think thoughts of the future will be able to lend us sufficient hope and happiness in the upcoming year.

Extra-Ordinary

For the longest time I've had a problem with the word "extraordinary". In English it means "super", though if we break it down it's "extra ordinry". Like it should mean "boring".

"Man, this house ain't just ordinary, it's extra-ordinary".

In the middle of writing this I looked up the etymology...."ordinary" is Latin-based equivilating to the English "order" (think "ordinal"). So, "extraordinary" is "going beyong the normal order (of things)." Well, I suppose everything is just wrapped up in a neat little package, then! (It really is!)

Satiation

With the big move in about three weeks I've been trying to use up as much food as possible that I've stored up. Last weekend I brilliantly figured I'd use up both my sugar and vanilla by making ice cream...however, getting halfway into the cooking I realized Iwas short on both, so I ended up having to run out to the store and buying more of each just to finish. Now I have practically a full package of sugar and jar of vanilla extract - much more than when I started. Ayi yi yi!!! Now I’ll have to use those up as well. Iguess I'll be eating a lot of dessert these next three weeks. I suppose that's OK.

Thai_____

Last night I ate at a Thai restaurant named "Thai-Tanic". My previous Thai-food outing was at Thaiphoon. Very witty those Thai people are, no? What’s next? Thai-coon? Thai-Dye? Thai-me-up?!?

Product Paranoia

There are many examples of substances previously thought to be safe that are now considered deadly poison. Cigarettes were passed out to soldiers in World War II. I've seen 1950's footage of lineups of young women in swimsuits being sprayed with DDT and then the fumes being sprayed over a swimming pool of children in order to make a statement of the confidence in the chemical's safety. I even remember my 4th grade teacher telling us to ask our parents to break a thermometer at home so that we could play with the mercury, though I never did (and even now I have an internal struggle going on - that would have probably been really fun!).

I don't even know when mercury was declared unsafe. I think I was talking about buying my own thermometer to have some liquid-metal fun when Becca said, "Are you crazy? Mercury is poisonous! They don't even make thermometers with it anymore!"

Well, what else is out there that they're going to find is harmful? I thought of all the chemicals I regularly apply to my person: Is Listerine slowly dissolving my teeth? Is DCT going to give me lip cancer? (I don't care if it does, by the way; I'm a total addict) Will my deodorant do...something bad?!?

With uncountable potential dangers lurking out there, the only sane choice is to hope what's bad isn't what you're using, and thus continue to keep using what you're using. I'm not sure the lifetime of B.O. is worth the risk that maybe the deodorant isn't healthy.

Q-Day

I've never really quit anything before. I hated playing little league baseball yet I finished the season out, and then I even went on for one more miserable season that I also finished out. Going away to college was the reason I left part-time jobs; Stew's was fun but I hated Pro Golf. I only stopped my paper route because I was literally unable to do it, with football practice and then band I didn't get home until 8:30pm and I'm pretty sure that would be a little late for a certain old man in a certain red house whose afternoon highlight was the newspaper delivery. I was an altar boy until I was too tall to fit in the robes. I've never dumped anyone before. In general I have a hard time saying "no" to people. Finally, today, August 4th, 2004, I am giving my two weeks' notice to my direct supervisor to officially declare that I will be leaving the Census Bureau.

I'll be handing in my resignation letter in about twenty minutes. As I write this I'm tingling with excitement. As soon as I saw Columbia's '04-'05 academic calendar I learned when fall term classes would start, so I then planned out when my last day would be, and so subsequently counting two weeks before that day I marked when I'd let them know “two weeks from now I'm outta here” (I'm actually giving them two weeks plus one day, not because I'm nice but just for a buffer/extra-safety day in case I couldn't find anyone tomorrow). I've been counting down to this day for the past month, crossing off the days on a calendar I printed out. Turning in my notice is going to be the highlight of my week. Yesterday felt like Christmas Eve.

In all honestly, however, I think it's going to be very anticlimactic. What I'd like to do run into my boss's office, knock all the other stuff off his desk, slam down my letter of resignation, flip him two fingers, and then turn around and run down the hall screaming "I'm %&#$ing outta here!!!" Instead, I have to inform my new direct supervisor (a lady who herself is leaving two weeks after me - why I was assigned to her is beyond me) that I'm leaving (I'm still going to tell my old boss just for fun...mwuhahaha). The anticlimactic part is that I’ll have to hang around and sit on my tush for two weeks, as I doubt they're going to give me anything substantial to do knowing I'm leaving. It's OK, though...I've been sitting on my tush since I've gotten here over a year ago, which is one of the main reasons I'm leaving, anyway.

This is going to feel really good...

Midsummer daydreaming

LYSANDER
Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth; But, either it was different in blood,--

HERMIA
O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low.

LYSANDER
Or else misgraffed in respect of years,--

HERMIA
O spite! too old to be engaged to young.

LYSANDER
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,--

HERMIA
O hell! to choose love by another's eyes.

LYSANDER
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion.

HERMIA
If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an edict in destiny: Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers.

A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 1, scene i

On location

This past weekend I went to see Michael Moore's documentary, "Fahrenheit 9/11" (I wasn't going to go originally, but last weekend I rented "Bowling for Columbine", also by Moore, which I heard was good, and was actually so impressed I decided I was then going to see "9/11", too). Like "Columbine", I thought it was very well done: didactic and entertaining. However, it seems since the movie's release much criticism has come out against Moore seeking to damage his (or more specifically, the film's) credibility by implying that he "twisted" truths, etc. Well, fine, but perhaps the ones calling him “liar” are themselves lying, or rather “twisting truths” to defend against Moore’s criticisms. Maybe everyone's lying. I'm so confused now and I really just couldn't say. I do believe it to be unlikely that Moore flat-out lied, so there must be at least some truth to what he says. Taking that in mind, at many points during the movie I believed that we as a nation should seriously look at the Iraq situation and reevaluate if we're over there for the right reasons.

I don't really want to talk politics. I would like to discuss about when I got most excited during the movie...when I saw footage of places I practically lived! The Hyatt, Watergate, Kennedy Center, Saudi Arabian Embassy, State Department...etc...they're all in the Foggy Bottom neighborhood. I told my friend, Zach, I was going to see the movie ahead of time. He said as I watch it I'll go "oh wow, I was there, like, yesterday...” He was right!

I was passing the Watergate on the walk back from the movie theater and I didn't think, "Oh, here's the place from the movie!" I had excited because they used clips of landmarks in the area that I lived. I then thought how funny it was that I placed ownership because I "saw it" first.

In contrast, back home I'd often see footage of Rockefeller Center in New York (NBC has their studios there). Whenever I go there now I think, "Hey, here's what they show on T.V.! I'm really there!" On the other hand, if for some reason I lived in a cardboard box there my whole life and finally saw NBC Nightly News television footage I'd think, "Hey, that's where I live!" and then get all excited.

OK, it was a pointless observation.

The movie also made me thing about something else: Some of the movie was focused directly against Saudi Arabia. Now, the film mentioned the Saudis have heavily invested in Citigroup, which owns Citibank, which has a close partnership with Columbia University (my future school) and is actually giving me the loans that will help me get my graduate education. So, apparently I'm (and everyone else attending are) in league with the terrorists...?!? Gee, I hope that doesn't get out. When I'm campaigning for president or something some "truth-twisting" documentary maker or more-likely reporter trying to get a quick buck will point that out….! If that bit of information in “9/11” is correct, then I suppose there technically would be a money trail…no matter how much of a stretch it would be. It is ludicrous, but that’s “truth-twisting” for you.

A final correspondence from Monte Cristo

"...Live and be happy, beloved children of my heart and never forget that,
until the day comes when God will deign to reveal the
future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these words: Wait and
hope!"
"Your friend,"

"EDMOND DANTÈS, Count of Monte Cristo"