Confessions of a DC Summer

   

Remember when summer was a time for sleeping in, pining after a Razor scooter (blue, obviously), endless trips down the water slide at the city pool, and ignoring your mother's constant request that you do something productive with your time and clean your room?

Now I'm having to make do with finding fun in sitting in my swivel chair at my indoor job for adults ( no scooter enthusiasts here ) and actually not having time to clean my room. Well, ok, I probably have time, but I need time for mind-numbing activities too, like browsing Facebook where an increasing number of my friends are posting pictures of rings, wedding dresses, and little people. (Lions and tigers and bears? Ok, just kidding. )

Last night, my housemates and I had to deal with a uniquely adult situation - our basement flooded due to old architecture and an incompetent washing machine. Although sweeping the inch-deep water towards the one tiny drain in the corner may seem like a child's dream, it's infinitely ruined by the realization that you still have to leave for work at 5 am because even the bus drivers don't get up early enough to take you to your 6 am job.

So, summer in the District isn't everything I dreamed it would be. ( Does it really get this hot in the Midwest?! ) I still need to find a placement that fulfills the expectations of my required religious studies internship ( when I really want to just do web publication and read and discuss religion ) and my frustratingly vague advisor. I also need to figure out a way to not show up at work like a sweaty mess because it's already 90 degrees out at 6 am.

But, I have had many, many wonderful moments this summer, and I'm way behind at sharing them. Summer has always meant adventure. This one is just a journey of a different sort. Hopefully I'll have the time to elaborate soon!

Lady Lindy

This week, I was tasked with a reporting project on an exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery. "One Life: Amelia Earhart" presents a visual timeline of pictures and memorobilia from Earhart's relatively short, yet exciting, life.

First of all, can we all just stop to look at how gorgeous this lady was? I can't help but admire how she could rock both the leather jacket and pants for flying ( which others deemed "unladylike" ) as well as the latest feminine trends for her many appearances.

Earhart is best known as an aviator and a symbol of feminine empowerment. She achieved many firsts during her lifetime, including being the first woman to cross the Atlantic Ocean in an airplane. However, she suddenly disappeared during a flight over the Pacific in 1937 and has never been found.

In addition to the expected pictures and artifacts, the exhibit contains some interesting looks into Earhart's personality. Her free-spiritedness and independence never wavered. She definitely had a strong sense of self and knew exactly where her passion was: up in the air. She refused marriage proposals from George Putnam six times before finally agreeing to wed him. ( Seventh time's the charm? ) Even then, she was completely up-front and honest about her feelings, drafting this pre-marital letter in 1931:

All I can say is that George Putnam must have been one patient man. But really, could those requests have been drafted any more beautifully? I wish we still took as much time with our words as Amelia clearly did here. I especially love the line "I may have to keep some place where I can go to be myself, now and then, for I cannot guarantee to endure at all times the confinement of even an attractive cage." I think we can all resonate with that statement at times.

This exhibit is just one example of her legacy still being celebrated today. Three other Smithsonian museums also feature items related to Amelia Earhart. The National Air and Space Museum features the red Lockheed Vega in which Earhart set two of her aviation records and one of her leather flying coats. The American Art Museum houses a portrait miniature of Earhart, and stamps commemorating her flights can be found at the National Postal Museum.

“One Life: Amelia Earhart” will be featured at the National Portrait Gallery through May 27. The gallery is open from 11:30 a.m. to 7 p.m. daily, and admission is free.

I had such a lovely time at the gallery today. I got to interview an FAA employee as well as a sweet old lady all the way from Melbourne, Australia. 

Oh, the people you find when you say hello. They never cease to surprise me.

( image source )

Inauguration

So, as every good American knows, President Obama was inaugurated for a second time on January 21. DC perk: I got to go! That was two weeks ago, and I'm just getting around to telling you. Sorry.

Ryan and I took the Metro downtown, which wasn't bad at all. We left somewhere between 7 and 8 am thinking we'd run into a crowd, but there were less people on the Metro than at the daily rush hours. We got off at Farragut North and started walking with no real direction. We figured if we followed the crowd, we'd eventually get to the Mall.

A large crowd was gathering in front of us and it looked like they were closing off a street. That's when we saw it - the Presidential motorcade! About 20 black cars with tinted windows that might as well have been painted black passed us with some intermittent police cars and motorcycles. Just like that, it was over and the crowd started moving again.

Since we didn't have tickets for any special section, we just kept walking, figuring that eventually someone would tell us to stop if we'd stepped outside of our boundaries. We were eventually funneled into an area closer to the Washington Monument than the Capitol, but I could have cared less.

Right in front of me was CNN's inauguration little pop-up facility that they were using to broadcast the inauguration, and there, right in the middle of a group of journalists facing the cameras, was that iconic white hair. I freaked out a little bit. (There's no use going to Ryan for confirmation on this. Of course he would exaggerate and say that I was full-out jumping up and down. Clearly, that would be false!)

We ended up watching the inauguration on one of the giant screens set up on the Mall, so no I can't say that I actually saw President Obama in person. I would say that I might as well have watched the inauguration at home warm and curled up under a blanket, but there is so much to be said for the people you are experiencing that moment with. Ryan and I both noticed a fellow in front of us, who because of his age and physical attributes must have been uncomfortable standing for that long (I was uncomfortable standing that long), but he was beaming from ear to ear. And the girls around us were chattering impatiently while waiting for Beyonce (the real reason anyone came to the event).

After the fanfare was over, it was getting cold, and I was tired, so we decided to grab some lunch and head back, skipping the parade. This is when my frustration really set in. Almost all of the streets had some portion of them closed, and we couldn't get to the Metro stations we wanted so we wouldn't have to transfer or wait in gargantuan lines. I can't imagine what it would have been like at President O's first inauguration. Apparently there were twice as many people at that one.

I may have gotten sassy with a few National Guardsmen when I could see where I wanted to go, but just couldn't get there. If I knew their names, I'd go back and apologize. Sorry guys. By the time we reached Farragut North, we'd probably walked enough to get us all the way home.

We finally got back and napped for the rest of the afternoon. Historical moments are exhausting.

After living in DC for over two years, I have:

Obama sightings: 0  motorcade sightings: 2  Anderson Cooper sightings: 1

I can live with those numbers. DC is pretty rad.

Here's to another four years of remembering how blessed we truly are. United we stand.

I'm alive!

It's true. We're two weeks into what I can already confidently call the "spring semester of death," so called because I have two grad classes, a law class, a Hinduism class (I'm no good with names, and Hinduism has a lot.), and a good ol' reporting class. So far, I am alive. Even more, I have my reading done for my 5:30 class already. Check me out.

DC has been good to me thus far, even though it has been freezing. It was supposed to freeze rain last night, so the news channels warned us to stay inside as long as possible (a little extreme?) and my university was closed until 11 am. From what I can see, this was a huge overreaction, or maybe I'm just bitter because I have a night class that won't get cancelled.

On a brighter note, it's supposed to be 70 degrees on Wednesday.

Then it is going to snow over the weekend.

You win some, you lose some.

Remind me to update you about the inauguration. It was historical or something. Also, I turned 21. Equally historical.

But for now, I'll leave you with this funny video. I'm back on staff at American Literary Magazine after my (too) short stint in South Africa, and I'm busy designing for our submissions drive. I love it.

As you can see, I'm now a member of the newest social media craze, Vine. Not sure how much I'll use it, but it's definitely cool to watch all those people I see in Instagram photos come to life!

walking: a memoir

One thing I definitely miss about home is walking. That's right, you heard me.

Walking is something I definitely had to get used to when I moved to DC. I desperately missed the convenience of a car and would make jokes about forgetting how to drive whenever I was back in Iowa (because I think I'm funny or something). It was frustrating when I had to make the short walk up Massachusetts Avenue (in my defense, a pretty steep hill) loaded down with groceries, and usually I'd be sweating once I got back. It was inconvenient to have to get up even earlier on a Sunday morning so that I could walk 35 minutes to church when the car ride would have taken ten. (And do not even talk to me about taking the bus. You simply cannot attempt to be on any kind of schedule with them.)

Despite being the capital of the United States of America, I felt like DC was taking away all of my freedom.

But slowly my bitterness started to fade, and I grew to love those walks. I loved noticing the subtle changes in the color of the trees lining my way to church each week. I still laugh at the thought of the old man outside of the Catholic church who told me he liked my boots and then proceeded to tell me what seemed like his entire life story. I loved adventures into Metro Center and Chinatown just for a day of exploring. I even enjoyed trying to find shortcuts back from Friendship Heights and meeting people who were kind enough to tell me I was going the wrong way. (My American University sweatshirt was a dead giveaway.) Don't get me wrong, I still loved driving, but I began to value the time spent observing and interacting with things around me rather than watching them zip past in my peripheral vision.

I'm definitely an independent kind of gal. I don't mind hanging out with a group of people, but every once in a while I get an itch to go do something by myself. Walking became that thing for me in DC. Armed with a camera or just my two eyes, I liked to go. To just be. I could go left, I could go right, I could go around in circles. It wouldn't matter. Me, myself, and I didn't really care.

Now, I've gone and planted myself in another place. In another country, to be exact, and it's just not the same. People do not walk around alone here, especially girls, especially at night. It simply would not be safe, they tell me. This I can understand. Even in DC it is not smart for me to be walking around by myself at night. But during the day here I do not see many people walking, and rarely any girls by themselves. And (instead of trying to tell you what I need to say without actually saying it, I'll just go for it) never a white girl.

You might remember this post, where I mentioned I'd gone on a walk. The Monday after that a guy in my class asked me what I did over the weekend. I told him about my wandering and this is what I got:

Wait... you mean you walked... alone?

Umm, yes. I did. (insert joke about having fully functioning legs)

Ok, ok, I wasn't really that blunt with him, but his message was clear. People like you just don't do that.

Today, I decided to rebel again because I needed groceries, and shopping is one of those things I really prefer to do alone. I'm kind of weird, I know. I'm also kinda cheap, so I wasn't going to call a cab for just me, myself, and I. We could walk.

I found the place I was looking for right away (which is a feat in itself for me), passing people sporadically on the sidewalk. I got my groceries pretty quickly since I didn't need much, slung the bag over my shoulder, and began to retrace my steps back to campus. This time, I was on the side facing the cars as they passed me, and I caught a couple of people literally staring at me. It wasn't a stare that made me uncomfortable. It was more of a what in the world are you doing, woman? stare from, well you know, white people. (Granted, I was carrying a 5L jug of water in addition to my other bag up a hill, so I might have looked a little crazy. I like to combine my workouts and grocery shopping. Efficiency is key.) I would have given them an overly ecstatic, cheesy thumbs up, but I never think of these appropriately sarcastic actions until the time has passed.

All of this is to say that today I realized I love walking, I really do. It has always given me the time I need to be alone. In letting my mind relax and wander, I get the opportunity to notice things that I wouldn't otherwise...

Like a Cinnabon box on the ground! They have Cinnabon in South Africa, guys! I've never been so happy to see trash in my life.

I think I know where my next adventure might be taking me...