talk talk talk

there's a picture of me as a little kid, probably no more than 4 years old. i'm sitting in my room alone, at my piano, with my headphones on. i'm looking over my shoulder, scowling: the most genuinely indignant face you've ever seen on a 4-year-old. the problem? my mother. who was (i'm told) behind the camera, interrupting my private time. how dare she.

this picture is often the gateway to a family dissertation on my lone-wolfishness. the lead-in to stories of all of those times i could have been playing outside with friends, but was instead sitting in my closet fort, recording radio shows with my imaginary students. all of the times i would rather read a book or play an instrument than interact with human beings.

it's a notoriety i'd like to abandon.

it's a hard habit to break after 26 years of assuming you are what you always were.

lately, i've never wanted to talk more than i do now. insularity is no longer cute and fun. i want feedback. i want dialogue. i want the comfort of another person's voice to hash out the kinks with.

especially if that person knows me as well as i do. and doesn't buy into the notion of childhood photos as portents.

as determined by their viewer

i just came across my last blog post. nine months ago. my first thought was, "oh, things change quickly." but because i'm trying very hard to qualify my thoughts these days, my second thought was "wait, have they really?"

nine months ago i had just finished my first year of graduate school. i'd secured my first two legitimate jobs in education. i moved to a real apartment. the sun was shining. i met a boy.

today, i just finished grad school. i have two more legitimate jobs in education. my apartment remains real. the sun is shining. i lost that boy.

then, transition felt like progress. today, it sometimes feel like treading water. the difference is, i know wholeheartedly, a matter of perspective.

perspective, my constant, constant foe.

breaking into the habit of maintaining perspective is akin to training for a marathon. commitment. persistence. commitment. persistence.

so, now i do both. i run and i think. my stamina for running pales in comparison, at this point, to my stamina for thinking. but one of these days, after three miles of running and thinking, it'll be programmed. because it has to be.

nine months ago i welcomed perspective. right now, i'm afraid of it. because choosing to find perspective means taking control.

and that is a frightening ... and liberating ... thing.


two wheels, one borough, and a little time.

i tend to believe you are what you choose.

i was walking down 7th ave today after work, somewhere between 26th and 23rd and found myself looking around and thinking "this is good."

if you've ever walked down 7th ave between 26th and 23rd, you'll know it takes a special sort of determination to choose to have a moment of clarity in this certain stretch of the city (unless FITers and Chipotle = enlightenment for you; not so for me). so, yeah, it's not a particularly lovely part of the city. no, scratch that: it's overwhelmingly unspectacular.

nevertheless, here i am ... 4pm ... unshowered ... overclothed ... stickyhumidfacesweathot ... thinking "this is good."

i've found my life has taken a drastic change for the better since i decided to start choosing to feel good about it. and there's something weirdly empowering and awesome about that.

a month ago i left the Apartment of Doom and relocated to an old italian neighborhood in brooklyn. i bought a bike last weekend. i have a kitchen again. i have a farmers market. and a coffee shop.

yesterday i was buying a subway card and the guy next to me asked "are you visiting the city?"** and i think i looked up at him incredulously, frowning, and said "psht no i LIVE here." it was a weird moment of pride and camaraderie that six months ago i would have told you i'd never, EVER give this city the satisfaction of coaxing out of me.

but now, after a few months and a whole lot of brooklyn, i am perfectly content.

**dude, let's not assume this reflects poorly on my metrocard-buying skills. i do that shit like a pro, son. i think he was just taken aback by my offer to give him the buck he needed to buy a card. take the girl outta washington but ....


too busy to write

capable only of 50 word bursts and pictures. tumbl-ing instead. someday i'll quit slacking.


at last ...

... and so begins the sexiest administration in history. suck it, nic and carla! your combined hotness has been one-upped! L'Amerique est la plus sexy!

... and here are some pics from inauguration day in harlem.