Greatness

I was walking to my office this morning, another beautiful (though hot) September day here in Washington. It struck me at how great this city is.

I first arrived here nearly twenty years ago for a semester, and I never left. I've been privileged to work here, go to school here, to meet my husband a circle of friends here, and to buy a home here. I've interacted with all circles of life--from neighbors to students to lawyers and judges and other public officials. I've had the freedom to change jobs, and I've carved out my own small niche.

That's not to say everything is perfect. I've had my car broken into. I've had neighbor conflicts. I've had friendship transition and change. I've had times that work has not been professionally fulfilling.

But at no time have I viewed Washington as being an inhibitor. It's always a gateway, an opening.

The campaign rhetoric here has been horrendous. If you filter what you hear through the media, white people are all racists. Women all are discriminated against. People of faith hate gay people. Inequality drives everything we do, and this country has suffered. Some savior needs to emerge to liberate us from our chains that hold us back.

Yet that has hardly been my experience. Yes, this stuff happens. Yes, absolutely, injustice occurs and some people have not been handed the same deck as other peers. Sometimes dumb luck intervenes.

But you can walk out of the door of a Starbucks or a Peet's, you can carry your latte, you can meander toward the office and cut through a park, and life is grand. All people, all backgrounds, all races and creeds, all of us are criss-crossing through town. No one is overtly held back. No one is impeded. No one needs to rescue.  No one needs to make it great.

Two Months

I have no real reason to avoid writing. I mean, life has not slowed down, but it's been this way before, and I tune in. I think I'm avoiding writing because I don't know about this stage. It's an uneasiness, a sense that I am not where I desire to be, and I want to avoid having these feelings of drowning.

Whether it is a new nephew or travel or my brother running a marathon or my husband jetting off to Singapore. I feel like I am just standing still, in this place, before another convention, this place that is static and rigid and unyielding. It's a chasm and I'm sinking.

In the stillness, I am aware of my thoughts and how very unhappy I am. I try to cover with drinking, socializing, reading, drama, but it always remains the same.

I want to picture myself in 12 months, with a baby and a Republican president and possibilities for change. But I see myself at 40, sitting here, and still facing uncertainty about a night ahead. And I really hate this. And I don't know how to pull myself up.

Character

It's been a hectic week, after visiting Cincinnati, dinner our with Marissa and Jay on Monday, World Cup soccer with neighbors, dinner with E last night. I am looking forward to a quieter evening tonight, a stop at HT, and maybe an episode of OITNB. I did an elliptical this morning, much needed after over indulging lately.

It's summer. It's been stormy and hot, the days are long. And it'll be July in one week, which is ridiculous. Half-way through 2015 already. And July will be a busy one, as will August. And September...so it goes.

I am searching for direction and spark, and I'm trying to live more in the moment. It's now 8.5 months until 40, and there are days I could almost anticipate it, and other days I'm dreading it. I cannot wrap my brain around being in my 40s. I still recall not being able to envision life after 22. Or life in college. Life outside of St. V. It's like a rubber band that stretches further out, or maybe something that keeps unwrapping to cover up more of what your life is like at this point or that.

I'm reading David Brooks The Road to Character, which has been outstanding. The more I read, the more I demand "great books." Fracture was great.  Ideas, motivation, drive, integrity, dignity, and utter failure.

Being transgendered has been the story of the summer. How does that state of being reconcile with character? Can it? Brooks struggles with the definition of "true self." Maybe that concept is overrated. You can spend a lifetime and never quite define that. Or you can reach that state in youth.

I am not sure if this is the best word, but it's authenticity. And dining last night, hearing that ridiculous story on the porcelain dolls, all I can think is "Own it." Do not be ashamed or embarrassed, the way I would have been. Own who you are, because you don't get a second chance in this life. One is what you have.

Six Weeks Later...

So I never intended to step away for these last six weeks. Time passes fast. Travel. Friends. Block Party. California and Vegas and Phoenix and Philly and New York and New Jersey. This and that.

I just haven't wanted to write. It's not for the lack of something to say. I feel like I have nothing but thoughts to vocalize, and I have nothing but a void to fill.

I have less time than a baby's gestation before turning 40. I am simultaneously hyper aware of my age and utterly in denial, oblivious to the point of utter avoidance. I want to dwell on the summer, travel to Texas and Michigan and the Bahamas and Iceland and Cincinnati. I want to dwell on 4th of July fireworks and hot days and roofdeck parties and cocktails and those other friends turning 40.

So where to it? I need to focus on doing something positive for myself. Aging gracefully, writing, enjoying the mantra of here and now. And then what...

One Week...

We played that BNL song enroute to work tonight. Somehow I have a feeling I'll be checking email even after leaving for Christmas.

It's been a year. Several trips, including Oslo. Several frustrations at work. Luckily, the family is healthy and we have another nephew. We have not had to suffer much.

It's two weeks and one day to my 39th Christmas. And you know, I'm not even feeling that spirit this year. We haven't decorated at home, we haven't even gone to the mall to go shopping. What's been done is all online. We haven't even bought a tree.

Some of it is preaching that kindness and that coolness that I feed myself. Some of it is just being tired and need to give myself a true break from trying to do it all. It's something only women try to do: it all. And there's always an element of second guessing.

So one week. And there's a lot ahead this week, something almost every day. So here's to making it a good week. 

Thanksgiving, Sick, Etc.

Been a long week. I keep saying "I survived Thanksgiving." I survived the trip, the Turkey Trot, the photos, the Melatonin, and Interstellar. I hate to be crude about it. But after coming home, sick and facing insomnia, well, I was glad to be home. It was too much.

I need to strive to care for myself better. Nurse myself, treat myself gingerly, take care now. I think it's easy to put yourself on the back burner. Very easy, when you strive to care for others. And I think it's wearing my body down. I did get to run this morning and yesterday, and though I was exhausted from the Tylenol PM, at least I did it. And it felt good getting that done before 8am.

This weekend? Watch football, relax, sleep. See friends. Take care. Treat myself kindly, and strive to treat others kindly, too.

So Disgruntlement...

I've been going through those stages in the last, oh 15 years, when I just need to move on. I work so hard, feel so little respect, and just get so disgruntled. And you do this flip side, bargaining sort of perspective: Lucky to have a job, lucky to have members I consider friends, lucky to have these kinds of opportunities in general. And then I feel cut off, and disconnected, and ignored. And again, that idea of ego affects me. And I know my attitude is awful now, and I'm maybe being short-sided. I don't know.

I always prided myself on knowing that hard work is acknowledged and rewarded, but motivation...that is the tricky part and where many fall flat. But it's a vicious circle oftentimes: you lose that impetus to advance when you think that everything you do is overlooked. And it's hard to know if you are being sensitive or if you're being realistic. And when it's time to forge onward.

I don't know. I'll see how I feel after yet another convention. I anticipate this time yet dread it. If only I had something going on...I used to fantasize a bit about being pregnant, about feeling well-known and admired and being a central figure. But now I just want to muddle through.

Standing Up for Yourself

One of my deepest regrets in life is how I've occasionally let people steal my joy. More than occasionally. I've let people insult me, yell at me, demean me, and I haven't always defended myself. I let others make me feel diminished.

Maybe it's because of a looming milestone birthday in 16 months. Maybe it's because I was so hurt yesterday to not be included in an awesome black tie gala that I would have felt so honored to attend. Maybe it's because I wasn't considered at all. I don't know.

I have neglected writing a lot. I don't think it is has been become of a lack of things to say. I've certainly mentally noted a number of ideas and internal essays that recount and extrapolate on various slights. Or perceived slights. Or just raw feelings that I can't articulate because of some inner defensiveness, some deep desire to not let others see my wounds.

I'm not a showy person. I'm an introvert in an extrovert's world, and that is the source of both weakness and strength. I can turn it on, but I usually recoil within.

I guess some of this comes from a hidden pride, and that's also not always a good thing. Of course, I have an ego and of course I'd like my self-esteem safely patted and appreciated and nurtured. I will always remember that convention about 11 years ago when I got some whoomps during staff recognition, and it was such a quiet thrill to have comments on that. I don't think I've ever felt that appreciated in my life. Or grateful. It brings a tear to this day.

I also need to be more of an advocate for others. I could do more to appreciate support that I have received. But first, I need to work on recovering my own joy. I have an immense amount of gratitude to have a home, a job, a husband, a brilliant family, and a wide circle of friends and supportive associates. But sometimes you just need that extra bit of love. Or an out of nowhere measure of devotion. Or a boost. Ask and you shall receive, once in a while. Or not.

Birthdays and Anniversaries

It's dad's birthday, and the other day, I had a dream or a stark thought that it also marks forty years since his mom died. My grandmother. I never know how to approach that, whether to acknowledge it and of course, I am sure he thinks about it. How can he not?

Forty years seems so long and it's a blink, really. I mean, I've been in DC for sixteen years. And there are days when I'm floored I've been here this long. Take nothing for granted. There are no guarantees and no promises of things remaining the same.

With that sentiment, I'm off to Chicago to celebrate a friend and colleague's wedding.

May 22, 1994: Advice to those Graduating from High School, Twenty Years Later

I don't remember very much about the morning of my high school graduation. I am sure I journaled it. I remember it was sunny, and I remember what I was wearing. I remember my speech and Sister J and I remember saying hello and goodbye to some of the girls after. And that was it.

I think we place so much primacy on this date at 18 because life is a little predictable before that. I mean, anything can happen. But you grow up and go to school and then turn 18 and then you can make your own decisions, carve your own path. Before that, freedom of choice is a bit limited.

I think about all of the milestones I've hit in the last two decades, with children being the one I've missed. But I've graduated from college, and then grad school. I moved to DC. I got married. I bought a house. I have traveled to Europe and Africa. I traveled to California and Texas and New York and many states in between. I got a job, and have had this one for nearly 15 years. I have three beautiful nephews on my side and two nephews (soon to be three) and a nice on the other side. I've made friends, lost some, experienced tragedy and 9/11 and lost family members, like my grandfather. But life truly began for me after May 22.

That doesn't mean that life is always smooth sailing after graduation. It isn't. No, it surely is not. Friends are always difficult, relationships are fraught with good times or bad.  You struggle with jealousy and envy and resentment and the comparison trap is fragile. You realize that the world competes heartier than it does in your high school or even your college. You realize that there is always someone more brilliant and brighter and more striking than you. Your realize you can be insulted in the most profound way, in that your essence and spark are questioned. And you doubt yourself all over again, so that teenage insecurity is laughable. You question your life goals and second guess your decisions, and you wonder "what if" beginning with the first grown up choice you make regarding college. You cry tears of betrayal and loss and frustration and fear and you experience all of those same high school emotions, magnified. You question your faith and the principles you thought grounded you.

You also experience wonder, astonishment, and happiness unlike anything else you have ever experienced. You marvel that you can build a life for yourself, you make more wonderful friends than you could have ever dreamed, and of course you may fall in love, if you are lucky. You  experience the joy of new family members, the beauty of places you have only dreamed of yourself. You open yourself up to new  and ridiculous and crazy and remarkable things, and you know that your life is unwritten. And you realize you have more resiliency, more strength, more fortitude, more grace, and more perseverance than you ever thought possible.

It makes me wonder where the next twenty years will lead. I think the pace of change slows, but if I am lucky enough to get another two decades with good health and family, I will continue to appreciate things. I mean, I hope I will still have wonderful opportunities and pleasures and adventures.

I knew that May 22, 1994 was only just the beginning. But now, as I start to move into the middle ages of my life, I truly know how much of a beginning that was. So if you are still counting down those days to high school graduation, well, it will come quickly. Life goes by too quickly. So savor every day.

Grays

I think I found a gray hair today.

My hair can get a tinge of blondish reddish sometimes in the summer. But this was a pale, white one.

Ugh.

I don't dwell on the fact that I'm only 22 months away from 40, or that next week will mark twenty years since I've graduated from high school. Or I've had this job for 15 years. Or that my parents are in their late 60s. I mean, I still feel the way I did when I was 24.

I'm going to interview a kid that was basically born in 1992. I was sixteen then. Gah.

I search for new lines on my face and crow's feet, and lines on my hands. And wrinkles. And it's hard to relate to people who don't remember the years I was in high school, or even college. Or who were born nearly into the Clinton presidency. And I've yet to contemplate becoming someone's mother.

I will fight to keep my natural brown hair for as long as I can. But I won't fight forever.  I can't fight Mother Nature. I guess it beats the alternative.

When You Aren't a Mother

Mother's Day is always difficult for me, like it is for many. I'm lucky and blessed and grateful that I have a wonderful mother, and I was lucky enough to see her last weekend. But we're separated by so many miles and it's rare when I can be with her on Mother's Day. And I know she is sad about that, too.

But there's another reason. And it's a selfish one, maybe. Because so many mourn their mothers or have dealt with relationships with their mom fraught with drama and difficulty. But me...I yearn to be a mom. And it's not for any particular reason...but it is what it is. And in a way, I'm glad I can isolate myself from Mother's Day. Motherhood is sooo celebrated, as it should be. It is almost glorified and exalted much more today than it was when I was young, at least as far as I can recall. And there are Facebook posts with proud mamas and their babies, throwback posts and adoring husbands just loving on their wives. And family members, too.

I think sometimes we're overly sensitized, and we tiptoe around offending people. And I don't mean to call for a boycott on everything Mother's Day just to avoid hurting someone's feelings. It's only one day, and it's a Hallmark Holiday anyway. But all day, wow...I have to block it out. And I think we all could do a little more to realize that for many reasons, this day is hurtful for many. Those missing their moms because of death or distance, those mourning a baby lost before the baby was even born or prematurely, those who yearn to be a mama but aren't because they haven't met the right man or have health issues or anxiety or doubt. And those who offered their baby for adoption and still miss them desperately. And as proud as mamas should be, and as much as they love and sacrifice for their families, they should also have compassion for those women who so desperately would trade places.

Blessings

Lately, life has been bittersweet. I've felt like things are OK overall...healthy, employed, financially secure, time spent with friends, etc. But you hear things that are unsettling...a friend who uses her grocery money to pay for the vet. A colleague's husband with cancer. People still struggling to find the right job, to cope with an unexpected bill, to not where they want to be a certain point in life. And I see extravagance and waste and entitlement all of the time. And it's not right. And then I catch myself sounding like one of those liberals whining about inequality. Just ugh.

So perspective is something to maintain, and the knowledge that life does not stay still, and what remains today can change by tomorrow. And to count your personal blessings while considering the needs and wants of others. And to resist entitlement. So this is how I'm thinking lately.

Random Musings on a Slow Friday

1. It is so damn cold out. I hate cold > summer sweltering.
2. No idea who the next Lions coach would be, but man, would it be awesome if it could be Tony Dungy.
3. Rooting for Denver, then Cincinnati in the Super Bowl. Then New Orleans.
4. I've seen two decent movies this holiday season, American Hustle and The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. I think that is two more than I've saw last holiday.
5. The Unwinding by George Packer is sort of a continuation of the Charles Murray superzip theme, where elites and wealthy are stratified away from those of the main. There was a comment on a cnn.com article about what to do with winter air travel delays, and the comment questioned why CNN was devoting so much time to this. Very few travel by air, very few fly, and the media elites just don't get that. I guess I fly frequently, though not as frequently as that 1% elite do. But air travel is second nature. And for most, it is not. Packer's great flaw is not paying attention to the family dysfunction, what happens when the nuclear family unwinds and nothing is left. But a fascinating read thus far.
6. I wish the Red Wings could have won the Winter Classic. Though at least the Spartans won the Rose Bowl.
7. I'm not sure if Kim Jong Un really let his uncle be eaten alive by starving dogs, but the fact that we think it could be true says it all about that regime, no?
8. Best wishes for Detroit's new mayor. At least he isn't already serve to divide his constituents.
9. "White Winter Hymnal" is appropriate for today. Has it been a week since South Padre and Dirty Al's?
10. This day has been unceasingly slow.

Angry yet Assertive

Anger scares me. I am not the most assertive person, and I do recognize that is a weakness. I want peace and harmony and avoidance of conflict. Until I get angry, and then sometimes I say things without the appropriate level of measure. But sometimes I need to say things, and I need to stand up for myself.

I still have horrible guilt over how I let myself be bullied as a child. I remember standing on the playground, often alone, in junior high. I would let the popular kids accost me, rattle me, burn me with statements meaning one thing but conveying another. I let them storm away from me, huffily pronouncing they were just trying to be friendly. But in reality, they were trying to get a rise out of me, and I was not going to dignify them with a response. What I really should have done is told them they cannot treat me that way. They are not allowed to make me feel inferior.

I eventually closed myself off. It was easier to withdraw within myself, disappear into a rapid imagination that often made fantasy and stories and on-screen entertainment the kind of reality that allowed me to get up in the morning. And that came crashing down at least twice: before senior year and half-way through my Freshman year in college. And maybe again at the beginning of Sophomore year.

Friendships cured much of that, and developing relationships where people loved and accepted and respected me. But I've always wanted to please others, and that is to my detriment. That lobster analogy of the slowly simmering pot is always something I am aware of. And if I had seen that arise to a boil immediately, as opposed to gradually and erratically, then I may have become assertive at another time.

What I am trying to say is I need to stand up and defend myself, and not think of myself as a 12 or 13 year old girl. But it is hard to change that conception of yourself, even a quarter of a century later. So what to do?

The Fall

75% of this year is over, and yet I don't feel like I've accomplished much of anything. Sad, right? The night is creeping into the day, and the daylight is shrinking. It's still 75-80ish, so there's an air of summer out there. Not sweater weather or even pumpkin latte weather yet, really. Though in a month, the holidays will be screaming in our face, and we'll all demand Thanksgiving food and Christmas decorations immediately.

Do I do resolutions? No, not so much. There's this refrain about "begin again" that plays whenever I realize that if I did do resolutions, they would not work out so well. The song would pause, restart, and never end.

I feel like I've played out the same old tune this year. Nothing new, no family news or professional news or home news. But that's good, right? Not to lose anyone, or not to struggle with family sickness or friends facing tragedy.

I feel a little at loose ends, a little discombobulated lately. A little struggling to make sense of something I don't know/can't know how to change. So I don't think October is the greatest of months. I always prefer Spring, to reawaken, and to grow. 

Respect?

Being in DC, there's always a great sense of entitlement surrounding everything you do. You always expect and demand more, and you feel disappointed when what's "due" to you isn't awarded to you. You start out low on the totem pole, and you gradually inch your way up. But you become competitive, or maybe defensive, or maybe just entitled to the perch you've clawed you way to. And when someone leapfrogs you, or starts from a position higher than you, or just pushes you aside, you become resentful. You become angry. You become bitter. And then you become resigned. Because that's how things work in this city, your office, your relationships. You've "earned" something, yet only until the next best thing comes along.

You can read between the lines, and some of this is just venting. You always claim in this town to be ego-less, and a big part of me does not care at all. But a part always feels like you have earned something, something resembling respect. And yet...

No matter what your status in life, I think, you feel this way. There's always another step in the ladder to climb, and that ladder seems unending, no matter how high you climb. And another ladder always goes up next to you, and there it is. And sometimes your efforts bear fruit and sometimes you slip a few notches down. And you aren't sure if your footing is as sound the next time.

So it all comes back to respect, after a long journey's climb. And that to me is crucial. Because without respect, there is no trust nor confidence. So it gnaws you down. You need to come to terms with it or not. Respect.

Back to School

With college kids all over DC, and my little nephew becoming a big kindergartener, my mind has wandered to thinking about school. It's now been two full decades since my last "first day" as a high school student. Twenty years sometimes seems like a year and sometimes it seems like decades. It's weird. It is now half of a lifetime ago, and I can't get over that I'm 37 and J and others are just starting their journeys. It is sad, a bit. I imagine what it would be like to have a little boy starting kindergarten, shopping for the backpack and feeling so bittersweet as he got on a school bus and headed off onto a new adventure. I would wonder how his day without me would go, and I would hope that he would make friends and he would like his teacher. And I hope he'd be smart, and he could read and write better than the other kids. And he would come home all excited to see me to tell me about his day, and how I'd be breathlessly awaiting his little stories about his day. It is so bitter, so sweet to anticipate. And so sad, because I don't know if that will happen. At M&N's party on Sunday, I felt so distant not having a baby to talk about, to hold and watch and to share my own stories. It makes me so lonely at times.

Maybe someday that will be me, and I will appreciate it so very much. But for now, all I can do is look forward to hearing the stories and wistfully hope that it will be me someday.

75%

I'm officially 75% of my way through my 30s. I'm officially in my late 30s, no wiggle room.

One nephew turned 4, another started kindergarten. And it's meterological Fall (despite the 80 degree temps), which means that the Fall equinox is coming up soon. And next week marks 12 years since that day in September, which really cannot be that long ago.

This year already feels over, like a loss, treading water, a stalemate. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I was hoping for more and it hasn't appeared. And it's the same tired old, same old same old.

Well, I will continue to hold out hope for the next 25%. Which isn't really just quarter time. Hopefully the start of something bigger.

Reunion

Tonight is my roommate reunion.

It's been a decade or so. Which is an astonishing length of time for me, since I lived with these women for four years and in that house for seven. And it's been eight since I left, five since I've been married. I've lived with the husband for much longer.

I can close my eyes and sort of remember being 22. It really is remarkable at how quickly you forget those days. DC is a challenging city for anyone. You are young, far from "home," you have to create friendships and live on $22,000 a year. You start from scratch when other friends from college are far away and immersed in serious relationships. You can't go home to your mom and dad on weekends. You move in with strangers, living intimately with them day to day, they see you at your best and at your worst. And you create these group house friendships that last for a little or maybe even a long while.

I have mixed emotions. Awkwardness. Discomfort, maybe. I don't know. I feel like I need a drink to take the edge off, and that reflects how I have changed since 22. It's been nearly 15 years to the day since I started my first job, and wow, oh how the years go by.

Maybe you are more authentically yourself at 22 than 37. Now there's a temptation to be at your best, dress your best, impress someones who don't need or care about that. But at 22, maybe this is all the more acute. You can hide in yourself more. You are more transparent at 37. You can't reveal everything, but your job/marriage/parenthood status is glaringly obvious. At 37, it isn't acceptable to be stuck in that rut. And we are coming from very different stages and phases, loves and lucks and tragedies.

So you enter into reunions with an open-mind, grateful for who you are and where you came from. And you know that this is all at face value, and then you turn away once again. Maybe meet up at 52? If we can be so lucky.