Bloooood

I gave blood this morning - the American Red Cross calls me all the time because I have O- blood and am thus universal.  It makes me feel special. 

Work hosts a blood drive about every 56 days (which is how long it takes for that entire pint to rejuvenate).  Being able to go while at work makes donating very convenient.

I, however, did not beat my personal best of 7 minutes to fill up the bag.  9 1/2 minutes this time :( 

Better luck in 56 days.

Mama said there'll be days like this....

There are some days when I get into the office and it's all I can do to get my headphones on fast enough.  There's a dire need to block out and world and mainly the incessant, feverish typing going on around me.

Granted, I do have to type to write this post so I am part of the goose chase but really.....this bullpen configuration is starting to get to me.  One person 3 feet directly behind me, another 3 feet away from her.  Constant typing, phone calls, talking, impromptu meeting directly behind my chair....really striving towards a cohesive working environment aren't we now?


I suppose my only escape is to find music that can calm me down.  You'd think that working in an envirnoment like this would make me better equipped to deal with life's little annoyances... 

French75

According to my father, a French 75 was a famous WWI artillery weapon known for being effective against les bosches.  Whatever that means....

To me, on a Friday night at dinner with my family, it meant a lovely cocktail.  Gin, champagne and lemon served in a beautiful champagne flute.  Gin is great for those nights when you need a stiff drink, and champagne is mist over the eyes on a silly evening. 


I wonder who the genius was who went to the bar and said, "Oh boy, I love gin but it can get quite boring, and I love champagne but it's not nearly strong enough for tonight. Why Leroy, (because my old-fashioned bartender's name is Leroy), why don't you just mix the two together for me?  And while you're at it....throw in some lemon for a little flavor?"

Whoever this man was, he was a genius.    And talk about being effective artillery.....

Too Adventury...

ch ch ch changes....Turn and face the strange.....ch ch changessss

To say that my life has been in a wind turbine lately would be an understatement. It seems that the one constant in my life is inconsistency. If I managed to stay in one place for longer than a year, I might think differently. I've been told that maybe it's a commitment issue and I'll be honest, that's a good possibility. But I'm not sure that's it entirely. Maybe I'm just constantly searching for what I don't know. Too adventury.

Well, with that in mind...I've moved about 20 times since I left the house for college and that's honestly not an exaggeration. This last move, however, has so far put me in a different place. Constantly moving has allowed me to finally settle in. (or at least that's what I'm hoping for - let's not forget that I just moved here).

I am pretty sure that I was scared to move to D.C. when I first made the trek cross-country. Moving in with the parentals was easy for the transition and easy on the bank account, but my life would be completely different at this juncture if I had moved into my own place right away. Oh well...coulda shoulda woulda. I don't regret anything I've done thus far, but I learn from my mistakes and I figure out what I like and dislike.

I disliked my sterile apartment in Ballston - initially I was stoked on it and happy to be on my own...but I need character around me. I need something that needs fixing, or a street-corner I can sit on and people watch. Ballston would be the perfect place to live if I were settled down with a man (ha) or ready to start a family. But since I'm still in my carefree fun ridiculous days, what better way to spend my time in DC than actually IN DC?

And what better place to be than Dupont Circle?? I now live in a gigantic blue house that is surrounded by Embassies. The house has a certain tilt to it...I'm currently sitting in my room and everything feels like it's sliding to the right. (And no, not in the political sense). The stairs wind up ever so tightly as you reach the top floor and creak - some steps louder than others. The balcony - damn straight there's a balcony from my room - can probably only support 2 people at a time. I have been told that the 'bouncy' feeling is all in my head, but I stand my ground and will not let a group of people out there at once. Since this is now my balcony, anything that possibly happens on it is somehow my responsibility and we all know how I handle worrisome matters!

There are ornate decorations all over the house - including oriental cabinets and a mural of an extending staircase with a dog sitting at the bottom landing. I guess the owners wanted to make this house seem like it just goes up and up forever. Which, quite frankly, when moving up 4 flights of stairs it definitely felt like the house went on forever.

So, my point...seeing as though this seemed to ramble as much as my normal posts do....change is good but change takes its toll. Sure, it's nice for me to sit and reflect and imagine all the possibilities I see in my future and what this house and new living situation will mean for me. But that does not discount all the anxiety, fear and frustration that went into getting here. And by 'here', I just mean to the 4th floor....not my current life-state.

With my luck....or desperate need to have change in my life....I'll be booted out of here in 6 months and need to move...yet again! But I'm going to stay hopeful and enjoy my time here regardless. Isn't that what life's all about anyways? Enjoying the moment, carpe diem, no regrets, everybody wang chung tonight.....

I'll depart tonight with the words that got this current thought in motion...

"There is one fault that I must find

With the twentieth century,

And I'll put it in a couple of words:

Too adventury.

What I'd like would be some nice dull monotony,

If anyone's gotony."

- Ogden Nash

Brudder

My big brother Petey was in town this past weekend. He may be 27 and getting married in September but I am still allowed to call him Petey, Petey Poo, Petard....you get the picture. He got here on St. Patty's Day so I met him at Union Station and we of course had to go out for a Guinness. It was great to catch up a bit with just him before meeting up with other friends and our parents. Good ol' fashioned brother sister quality time. We get into serious conversations and we get into giggle fits. That's the best thing about Peter - he can be my best friend and my worst enemy at the same time. We continued the Guinness-drinking festivities back at my house and ventured up to the rooftop. It's like Mary Poppins when you look around - I wanted to start dancing and singing Chim Chiminiee Chim Chiminee Chim Chim Cheerooooo. He rolled his eyes at me.... The sun was setting and the early spring evening turned cold. We began the venture to the metro station to head down to Old Town to meet up with Mom and Dad. For some reason we started talking about the movie "The Hangover". My family is somewhat obsessed with this movie, especially my Dad. Most of the times we have gotten together as a family in the last few years we have watched it at some point and laughed our asses off. Anyways, after talking about it I told Pete that I had the song stuck in my head. When he asked which one, I decided to sing for him instead....I think the Guinness helped... What do tigers dream of when they take a little tiger snooze? Do they dream of prancing zebras? Or Halle Berry in her catwoman suit?? I glance over to Pete...is he laughing or giving me the evil eye? Dougggg Douuuugggg Doug Doug Douggieee Doug Doug Now I've got him laughing...mission accomplished. The rest of the weekend was filled with Brittin favorites - cocktails, food, more food, more cocktails, wine, food, music, food. Of course, in between all the eating and drinking, my brother (and parents) helped me move into my new house and I could not have done it without all of them. Moving is tough but having their support truly helped me get through it. Oh! And we finally stumbled upon a delicious Mexican restaurant in D.C. It's about damn time. Big Brudder is the best...I wish we lived closer so that we could spend more time being ridiculous and being the adult children that we really are.

Nose-Talgia

I walked out in the hallway at work today, which means I walked past the kitchen. Somebody had just made what smelled like cinammon swirl toast. I was instantly whisked away to my childhood days spent at Nana and Grandpa's....

My brother and I spent a lot of time at their house during the summer - we would go down for a few weeks at a time and spent a lot of time with our cousin who was right between us in age. Basically, every morning, we would sit around watching cartoons and Nana would come in the room to first of all, tell us to get out of bed....and when that failed, she would make us cinnamon swirl toast. I can still smell it to this day. It smells like my childhood.

I think back on it fondly now, even though at the time, I was most likely being called 'silly' by my brother and cousins. Silly was my nickname and I HATED it. I was the youngest and I was the only girl so therefore, I was the target for teasing. With a temper like mine, it was not hard whatsoever to get me angry and frustrated. Stupid boys.

Regardless, I miss those mornings and am happy that my nose can still pick up on those familiar scents and provide a small break in my stressful reality.

Miami Airport

My time here at the airport really could not have gone any faster and slower at the same time. The days went by fast but the month went by slowly. And then, here I was, 30 days later at my last staff meeting preparing to say goodbye to everyone. But before I get into that, here's how I spent my time at the airport.

Driving around on the tarmac and parking in front of incoming planes. Those things are loud if you have your window down.

Racing airplanes

Chasing airplanes

Basically, I turned into a little kid when I was driving around the airport like this. I didn't get to do this everyday though, most of my time was spent in meetings or in my little cube. Therefore, when I did get the chance to go for a ride I was so excited. I am sure my coworkers got a kick out of the kid-in-a-candy-store expression that was plastered on my face, while, of course still trying to compose myself and act like a professional.....RIGHT I am following a giant airplane in a car! If you don't think that's awesome then you are seriously missing out on some fun in life.

I think the SIDA badge has some sort of power over the psyche. As soon as I got a badge, I was an airport employee albeit temporary. I could get through secret doors, get discounts on food and didn't look like a lost passenger who is seriously over-dressed for travel. Nonetheless, the SIDA badge granted me the opportunity to drive around the airport, look under the belly of airplanes and go on inspections with inspectors, among so many other things.

Sigh, so it finally got to be my last day and I had an out-brief with the Deputy Federal Security Director of the airport - shared what I learned and provided an info memo on my observations. I felt the need to produce something! After that I got to attend my last staff meeting and I was honestly shaking from the thought that I was going to be called out and have to provide a short speech or something. Every time a subject changed or the FSD looked around the room I had a mini heart attack. Remember the anxiety I mentioned in my last post? Terrible...however, at the end of the meeting, the FSD asked me to stand up and he presented me with a Miami airport pen and he asked that I use it whenever I am writing some sort of policy etc that will somehow have an impact on his airport. I found it to be quite a lovely gesture and I could not contain my embarrassment. Red cheeks, constant uncomfortable smiling, endless thank you's, shake hands, etc etc. Oh goodness, it was terrible and awesome at the same time. All I can say is that I got to breathe a bit at the realization that I was not required to say anything.

Still took me a few minutes to calm down though, shaky, fast-beating heart, ugh it's terrible. I had a final lunch with some coworkers and friends at the airport and then I was off on my way to get on an earlier flight. That was an interesting adventure that basically ends with me having about 5 hours to roam the airport. I wonder how one spends their free time at an airport?.....

As I finally got on to my plane - 5 hours and three beers later, I thought I would be ecstatic to get home. I felt a slight pull to turn around and head to south beach…really, I did. As soon as I got on the plane, I opened my window shade. Looking down on the tarmac, I realized that just last week I had been driving around in a car with someone and I got to walk around and look up into the wheel well of the same size plane I was not sitting in. I got to flash my SIDA badge and pretend like I actually mattered. I got discount at the airport shops and I felt like I belonged in the airport instead of just being a passenger. These fleeting experiences seem to go by in an instant and I’m afraid I never feel their impact until I leave. I look out my window at the expanse of the airport, remember walking from end of the airport to the other, freezing in the air conditioning, wishing I was home, and now missing the routine that I inadvertently began.

Social Anxiety

I have always been wary of bittersweet moments. I have never truly given them enough credit. For as much as I was certain that I was ready to leave Miami at the drop of a hat, the moment came and I found myself wanting to resist. Perhaps it happened too quickly and that’s exactly when that moment hits me and I can only dwell on the opportunities on which I may have missed out.

Let’s face it – I was alone in a new city and I was forced to be there for 30 days. I worked for 20 of them – therefore, 20 of my days were filled up with things to do. Nighttime is a completely different story though. I work during the day and what do I do at night? Workout….eat dinner, watch tv or a movie, read my book, write in my journal. After about a week, that routine gets old pretty fast.

I love to be alone, but when I am forced to be alone by circumstance, it’s a whole new ballgame. Alright, I guess I could have gone out and made new friends and gone to bars and met new people. But I’m sorry, that’s just not me. I am the girl who decides to go out for a quick drink and dinner on a Friday night and end up walking in circles around a shopping center for 15 minutes before deciding on a place that seems the least intimidating. Walk by one restaurant – but it’s too loud and there are too many people already there, turn around. Walk across the street to another restaurant I’ve been to, again, the bar is already too full – I would feel too awkward walking into that situation. So yes, when it comes to making new friends in a strange town, it is not as easy as it may seem.

The one bonus out of all of this is that I have come to the conclusion that I honestly do suffer from social anxiety to the extent that my heart rate accelerates and I start shaking, but that I can put on one hell of a facade.

No Rain.

Just to show you that it's not always sunny in Miami....normal view out my window.

Today's view out the window. Hello rain, wind and no visibility. See...it's not all sunshine and rainbows and kisses and unicorns. (Because all of those things make people happy, right? Right?) In all reality though, I love a good thunderstorm. Nevermind the fact that I used to avoid them at all costs, hide under the covers and feel my stomach drop and the first hint of thunder in the distance. To cure one's fear of a storm.... 1) Demonstrate to your family that you are scared out of your wits of wind, rain, thunder, lightning and any combination of the above 2) Take many trips with said family to a desert lake where storms roll in every afternoon 3) Get used to the constant ridicule but stay safely inside when a storm rolls around 4) "Oh don't worry, Lucy...those black clouds across the lake...they'll go righttt by us" I think not. 5) During said storm (although preferably not at the height of it) go with your mom and sit on top of the houseboat. 6) Don't sit by the metal pole that will attract lightning. 7) Sit, observe, watch, feel the wind on your cheeks, see the clouds roll by and change colors - black to grey to white 8) After all the chaos, realize that you are still okay and the sun always comes out again Once you have cured your fear of storms....don't go driving too fast during a massive rainstorm, hydroplane and crash....that'll bring on a whole new fear water on the street.

Hallelujah

So there is maybe one thing that can pull me out of frustration station. After trying out 10 different Pandora stations, I settled on one....and one of my favorite songs came on a few minutes later. "Hallelujah" is a song written by Leonard Cohen, but has subsequently been covered by many greats....Rufus Wainwright, Jeff Buckley, and Kate Voegele (which has been my latest favorite version). If I could collect every version of this song, put them in a playlist and listen to it over and over again, I am 99% positive I would be perfectly content. It is simple, beautiful and makes me feel something different every time I listen to it.