Surrealism

Have you ever stopped, looked around, and asked yourself, What the hell am I doing here? I feel like I do this a lot. And sometimes the situation is so absurd that I ask it out loud. Maybe I'm hoping some random stranger on the street will offer some valuable insight into the craziness that is my life. But then again, maybe I don't really want to know. Which is probably why I try to hide from fortune tellers. Jackson Square is a scary place for me.

I asked myself this when I moved into my new group house in DC. For those of you unfamiliar with sub-standard housing lingo, group house is basically just a fancy word for adult dormitory. I live in this house and share a bathroom with roughly 8 other people, 4 of which I've never even seen before, and at least 1 of which has a serious hair in the sink problem. But I do hear them through the walls and I go through their mail. Don't worry, I don't open it....although the Zappos box that has been sitting in the foyer for 3 weeks is just begging for it...but that's besides the point.

It struck me again at this past weekend's excursion to a pumpkin festival. On the heels of a drunken late night dance party, the good, old fashioned, family fun was a welcome change of pace. As was the hot dog and side of barbecue beef I downed for lunch, although I guess you can't really call it a side item if it's actually slathered on top. But that's just semantics. It was delicious. However, that wasn't the What the hell moment (although it probably should have been). That moment came when I found myself yelling FIRE IN THE HOLE!!! as I forcefully pulled the lever of a large cannon named "Chunkin Up," sending a pumpkin flying through the air at an impressive and exhilarating speed before it met it's demise against an unfortunate tree. Not to brag, but my pumpkin did easily go the furthest (which was celebrated on my part by a very enthusiastic fist pump) and my battle cry was definitely the most believable. Innate ability and skill aside, this is when I took a step back to do some much needed reevaluating. How is it that I ended up in Maryland shooting pumpkins into the woods? And is this a bad thing?

I remember over 5 years ago standing in front of a mailbox on Metairie Road, contemplating the letter in my hand. It was addressed to Georgetown and said that I was turning down their offer to attend grad school there. I had decided to go somewhere else, and although I knew it was the right decision, I stood in front of that mailbox for a long time. A really long time. I finally closed my eyes and mailed it off. It was hard to do, I had always dreamed of going to school there. I was transported back to that moment a few weeks ago as I stood in the middle of Georgetown's campus on a beautiful fall afternoon. I was there to use the library for a project I'm working on with the think tank. Although it was in a different capacity, and one that I couldn't have imagined all those years ago, I still made it to Georgetown and am the proud owner of my very own library card. This was meant to be.

Life is like one of those books where at the end of each chapter you have to pick either option A or B. Do you want to go through the sunflower field or down the waterfall? And depending on that choice, your path is forever altered. To borrow from and misinterpret Robert Frost, I believe they are all the road less travelled. The world is full of a lot of really brave and adventurous people who are just trying to navigate life, whether in the grocery store or in a pumpkin patch.

As for me, what keeps me going is blind faith in the idea that I'll end up where I'm supposed to be. One day, one of these paths is going to lead me to whatever it is that I'm looking for. And if the only way I can get there is by 'Chunkin Up,' then so be it. Who am I to question that?

If at first you don't succeed...

Those of you who know me are well versed in my lack of athletic abilities. I tried out for the volleyball team five consecutive years in elementary school and never once made the first cut, much less the final roster. Heartbreaking, really. Then when I moved on to high school it became a cruel twist of fate that my best friends were captains of our state champion volleyball team and all I could do was sit in the stands and feebly cheer them on. #1 Cheerleader--that was me! (I should mention that that's a self-proclaimed title, I wasn't technically on the squad)

In my adult(ish) years, I've learned to work with my limitations and stay away from v-ball pipe dreams. Although, there was one moment of glory a couple of months ago when I was asked to fill in and play with a beach volleyball team that was short one girl. My redemption lasted for one full rotation and I was totally vindicated. My first serve went sailing over the net....we don't need to talk about the second serve.....Anyway, I've since taken up activities that don't require much hand-eye coordination, such as biking and running. This has been a semi-successful strategy. In regards to my head on collision with the parked car, I believe that the blame lies entirely with the Land Rover and its ridiculously large rear end. A car that big is nothing more than a safety hazard for bikers like me. Running has been equally rewarding despite the constant tripping and weak ankles that cave in completely with each step.

I am now training for a half marathon, so I've been trying to get in some serious mileage while here in DC. My new favorite run begins at the Capitol (which is right behind my house), continues down the National Mall, passes the Washington Monument, goes down to the Lincoln Memorial (I give ole' Abe a shout out) and then all the way back to the Capitol. It is a beautiful route which can only be rivaled by a run down Esplanade and along the Mississippi River. However, I am now restricted to running only during daylight hours. This is a self-imposed punishment for sheer stupidity. Last week I went for a night time run and somehow got lost in between the Washington Monument and the Capitol. For those of you unfamiliar with the Mall, the space between the Washington Monument and the Capitol is about a two mile stretch and is completely bare, no trees, buildings, or even large shrubs. It's absolutely empty. Furthermore, the monuments light up at night and can be seen for miles and miles. In addition, the Capitol is on a hill (hence Capitol Hill), making it even more visible. So, to get lost somewhere in between point A and B is virtually impossible, yet I managed to do it like a pro. Not only did I have to run much longer than I intended, but I also somehow ended up on the set of Transformers 3. So, I will be starring as that really sweaty, confused looking girl in the background who is on the verge of passing out. I think they can probably work it into the story line, I can't imagine there's much of a plot to begin with.

Obviously needing to diversify my workout, I opted for a hike this weekend in Great Falls, Maryland. Not surprisingly, my past experiences with hiking haven't been the best. My first hike was 7 years ago in the Patagonia region of Argentina, and even with the several falls and near-death accidents, the most tragic aspect of that hike was my head-to-toe denim outfit. I wish I didn't have the pictures to prove that. My second big hike was 5 years ago in Interlaken, Switzerland with 3 other friends. Two of them decided to take the "extreme path" (this isn't actually a path, they just went running into the woods like a couple of crazies) and were subsequently lost on the mountain for the remainder of the day...along with our ID's and beer money, which are survival tools out there in the wild. And finally, my last hike 2 years ago in Antigua, Guatemala ended with me straddling a crevice on a volcano while my boyfriend chatted up the tour guide in the distance. My scars from digging into the volcanic rock lasted longer than our relationship, he became an ex quickly thereafter. So, it was quite brave of me to give it another go. Not only did I (not so gracefully) survive this one, but I also scaled a legitimate rock formation without breaking any bones or ending a long-term relationship. Success.

I think yoga is going to be next.

Sweet Red Plums and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

The travels continue.

Shortly after returning from Mexico I decided to come to DC to try my hand at non-profit work. It's a short term gig and something that has been in the pipeline for a while. I am working for an independent, nonpartisan think tank that deals primarily with immigration policy, both domestic and international. I'm approaching the 3 week mark and, apart from the Krispy Kreme located cruelly and (in)conveniently at the exit of the metro station I frequent daily, I am really enjoying it.

I've learned many valuable lessons so far in my short time here. I've learned that Columbus Day is a holiday in which you don't have to report to work. This was only discovered after I spent 3 hours alone in the office trying to figure out where everyone was. I even searched through my email looking for the mysterious memo that everyone seemed to get but me. I had pretty much convinced myself of the existence of a vast conspiracy against me when my mother finally cracked the code: national holiday. go home. That was a big ah-ha! moment for me.

I also learned that my feet have a severe reaction to "work shoes." I'm now on my second round of blisters due to the daily commute and unforgiving footwear. Every morning I look at the women next to me on the metro and admire their reckless abandon as they unapologetically prance around in their stockinged feet and bright white tennis shoes. However, I've decided to take the tough love approach. I'm staying strong in pumps and heeding the brilliant advice of a dear friend: This isn't Nine to Five and you certainly aren't Dolly Parton. Suck it up. Words to live by.

Another priceless lesson: avoid large scale Target purchases at locations without a cab stand. I would have lived without the new garbage can and memory foam mattress pad if I would have known that it meant bypassing the 30 minute wait for a cab while enduring an incredibly awkward interaction with the very chatty, possibly homeless man who decided I needed company. Listen, when a woman look fine, Ima tell her. It's not a crime. I'm just trying to spread the love. I think he had his eye on the mattress pad.

I've learned that my inner GPS performs just as poorly in the States as it does abroad.

I've learned that mannequin heads can sting when hummed right at you. Apparently a presenter at a certain conference thought that his talk on violence and drug cartels would only be compelling if accompanied with such props. He got a little carried away and ended up throwing the "bloody" heads one by one into the audience. Strangely enough, in a relatively large auditorium, all four heads came straight at me. I wonder if this happens to all liberals who venture into the Heritage Foundation. Another possible conspiracy theory. All in all, I was impressed by my reflexes. I was like an amateur Jeter, skillfully batting them away.

And finally, I've learned the painful lesson that a crosswalk does not necessarily ensure pedestrian safety. This I learned when I was hit by a car on my walk home. I managed to dodge it for the most part and ended up only slightly plastered across the hood of the car. As I brushed myself off, I was consoled with the possibility of an impending meet-cute. Something along the lines of J. Lo and Matthew McConaughey in the Wedding Planner. I figured we could work through the whole "you hit me with your car" thing and I felt confident in my wardrobe choice that day. Thank God I stuck to the pumps. I anxiously waited as my McConaughey rolled down the window....with his wedding ring-clad hand. That's when I got pissed. Lesson learned.