So much to say, and yet, I'm not sure if I want to say anything because I don't know where to start. So ... here's some mushy brain splatter:
Joined a gym. I'm just so thankful I can run in cool AC, I don't even care that I'm using a stinking treadmill. I actually think I am motivated to run longer because it means I get to stay in the coolness longer. Don't get me wrong. I still sweat like a maniac. The gym also has great perks: good hours, towels/bathroom stuff, yoga, bikes, spin, other classes, foam roller (My BFF), the - ahem - spa area: 3 separate saunas, this rock amphi-theatre seating thing that's heated rocks. I guess you lie on it and it feels good to have hard warm surface on your post-workout muscles? There is also this shower thing where you stand under the water but the faucet makes it feel like it's gently raining on you. There are hot and cold rain showers. A-mazing. Will try tomorrow and report back.
People here (in D.C.) ask weird questions and are super career-oriented. After work, people talk about work. People establish within 5 minutes what your job is, where you went to college, and what you see yourself doing in 5 years. I especially like, "What's your dream job?"
Cookie-cutters make boring art. Not sure I'll fit in for the long haul, but still giving it a go for now.
I have been working hard to save money. This calls for drastic measures like no cheese or meat and lots of biking in absurdly hot 100 degree/80% humidity. Speaking of, I got a flat tire on Rhode Island Ave the other night as I was sprinting home in the first drops of a massive thunder/lightning storm. Made it home, but had to change the flat this morning. It was the back tire, too, so I was particularly proud of myself. Don't ask me how long it took.
Take note: when you live in a swamp and you leave your wet laundry in the washer overnight, it will smell like nasty mildew after you eventually take it out of the dryer. I had to wash it all again, it was so gross. Thankfully, laundry is free.
Our downstairs basement neighbors smoke pot and play video games all day. No really, ALL DAY. I can't believe anyone smokes pot that much. I now can believe, however, that video games lead to seriously violent people. The pot smell comes up through the vents to my 3rd floor bedroom. Unfortunately, very unfortunately, I have to walk through their apartment to get to the laundry. Most unfortunately, I saw the dude pulling up his pants and jump off the couch. Gross.
The all-important question: Do you have a job? No jobbie, yet. But I'm feeling encouraged after a few "nibbles", as my grandmother likes to call them. My grandma is 94, lives alone, is sharp as ever, but quite hard of hearing. This is how our phone conversations go:
G: Any good news?
C: No, nothing yet.
G: I said, did you have any nibbles?
C: Nope, no nibbles.
G: Huh?
C:
Increased volume and slowed word speed. NOoooo.
G: Wait, hold on.
High-pitched squeal of hearing aid tuning. Any good news?
C:
Screaming as loud as possible, NO, I ... DON'T ... HAVE ... A JOB!,
which, for the record,
in one's own head sounds like "I ... AM ... A ... LOSER."Good times.
