I’ve been busy.
I moved to Washington DC last week and, just yesterday, we have the internets. I am connected to you again, and you can thank Verizon for this. They called me today, in fact, just hoping that I would thank them.
“Hello?” I asked as the 29N was heading to North Virginia Community College. I had an interview there for more adjunct work for the fall.
“This is Verizon,” the lady said. ”I was just checking up.”
“The Internet is there,” I said. ”But, hey, thank you.”
“No, sir,” she said. ”Thank you.”
Other things that happened today:
At the job interview, it was this big thing where everyone had to take a number and they called us in like cattle. It wasn’t something I wanted, and it was actually pretty fucking depressing. Picture this, my reader. Hundreds of people with Masters degrees trying to get a job that pays crap. But it’s a job and you need those. I look around and there, grading papers, waiting to be called, was this girl. Like, this average girl. She wasn’t too attractive. She was cute enough. And I was standing there, thinking, when was the last time I hit on a girl? It had to be years. So I sat next to her.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she said. ”Nervous?”
“Nah,” I said. ”But it’s weird, right? This whole set up?”
“I know!” she basically shouted.
“It’s almost like we’re cattle or something.”
“I was JUST thinking that!” she said. Was I being charming? Was I flirting? Was this flirting? I couldn’t, honestly, remember what flirting was like. It was so long ago. Her number was called a second after. She got up, looked back, waved, and that was that. I’ll probably never see her again.
Washington DC is weird.
There are times I love it. Early in the morning, when I wait for the bus, there are other people waiting for the bus. And they don’t look sad about it or depressed. They are taking the bus because, uh, that’s what people do here. We take buses. We take the Metro. Having a car is a luxury and if you have a car, hey, don’t be all uppity about it. I live inside a city now, not on the periphery, not some distance away where I can visit it if I want. I am inside of it. I am a part of it. It’s functions are my functions. What it can do I am hoping it can help me.
There are parts of it, the City, that I hate. Everyone either has a nice job or is broke. I’m constantly thinking I’m about to get mugged. And asking people questions is like asking for their first born.
“Where does this bus go?” I asked a bus driver because I had no idea where the bus went.
“The PENTAGON!” He yelled. Oh, yes, the Pentagon. Of course. I jumped on and, I swear, the guy was going about the speed of light. He passed stops. He just didn’t care. But when we got off 95 and I saw it, the Pentagon, I understood something that I hadn’t really had time to think about these last few days. I live in Washington DC. I live there. I live inside of it. Yeah, I’ve spent plenty of time in the Mall, at museums, all of that. But, I’ve never had the ability to do it so quickly. When I got off at the Pentagon, I looked over at it and thought, my god, a plane hit this building. This building does something important. It is important. I just never thought that much about it before. Yes, I’ll pay more in rent and yes I’m sure it will be hard. But I don’t really mind it. Maybe, just maybe, I can make this place my home.