My life as a movie

As I stepped off of the frenzied train and closer to the reality of my day, I let my mind wander back to last night, dreaming a little of that photo. The escalator brought me steps closer to solid ground and a lone trumpet wove a melodious soundtrack that carried me along the city's streets. The background music of my morning set, it occured to me how much I get from DC's street musicians. They romanticize my life, give me hope for a better day or simply put a smile on my face. Thank you Mr. Gospel Guitarist at Courthouse, who puts a spring in my step. Thank you Mr. Beautiful Dread Saxophonist who plays away my pain. Mr. Asian Instrument Man, you transport me to another time and era. And, finally, thank you Mr. Romantic Trumpet, who made me feel like a movie star.

Who tells you you've made it

I picked up the latest copy of DC magazine yesterday, and at the risk of making myself a social pariah in DC, I feel I must comment. The magazine looks to be attempting to fashion itself as an offspring of Town & Country for the beltway set. The magazine is attractive enough; it caught my attention to the extent I was moved to pick it up for its "hot list". My confusion began as my eyes scanned the "Scene in DC" section. Who are these people? To be honest, I'm generally just as confused when I see some of the NYC society pages, but at least those women have become famous enough for their socializing/partying that I recognize the names. I am so not on the DC social set, but I am aware. The only name I recognized in all the pictures was Ann Walker Marchant, and that's just because I did some business with her several years ago. Is everybody in the pictures PR flacks? Is it true...is DC hollywood for the less attractive? Pick up a copy of the magazine and you tell me.

Two sides of the same coin

Friendship is such an amazing, cool thing, and given how difficult it is to make real friends as you get older, I feel lucky to have the met the friends that I do have. I definitely feel Beauty and the Beltway's pain in trying to meet new people in DC. It's ironic, though, that no matter how close we get to people there are always so many different facets of their personality that we don't see or only see rarely. I had a really interesting conversation with a friend earlier today about how we get so used to seeing a certain side of someone that seeing them in a new light can throw you. I recently discovered the secret blog of a friend (because they wanted me to) and am still working through seeing the weaker side of someone I always viewed as this pillar of confidence. Even the very friend I was having this conversation with has managed his own shock and awe campaign when I saw pictures of him with a couple of different girlfriends. Even as open as I am on this blog, I have secrets and sides that only come out around certain people. Discovering different sides of people keeps life interesting. I guess it's the spy in me that yearns for this new information and the stuff that keep friendships fresh.

Waiting in the age of technology

Waiting for a guy to email is just as bad as waiting by the phone for him to call. No matter how many times you hit refresh you aren't going to make him write any faster. For someone with my lack of patience, particularly when it comes to communication, this is pure torture. I've somehow gotten myself into this dual relationship (relationship=friendship) with this guy. There is the anonymous email relationship (he gives great email when he writes) and the let's hang out/be friends relationship. He is unaware that this seemingly split personality is just me. I feel like general sending my troops to fight on two different fronts, and I want both my fronts to do good. At the moment, the face to face relationship is slowly progressing, while my online persona has been waiting 5 days for his next email. So, I pine away in front of my computer waiting for that next email to brighten my day. It's the new face of pathetic.

What is seldom is wonderful

The title of this post is an old Irish proverb whose depth really weighs on me. I read it and immediately know exactly where it comes from. Think of all of the things you really love or enjoy that you only experience infrequently. How much more wonderful are they when you do get to experience them? It's like waiting for an email from a friend who you don't correspond with all the time. Opening that email is a moment of bliss. Isn't chocolate better when you don't have it every day? I cherish my time more with people I don't see all the time thereby making even the most mundane seem wonderful. You can punch holes in this proverb (rarely get sick but that doesn't make getting sick wonderful), but it's so much sweeter to accept it simplistically. Since day 16 in This Book Will Change Your Life Again (sidebar) is all about testing a proverb, I'm going to spend today experiencing the wonderful by revisiting some of the things I love that I seldom get/see.

Black Rogue Bunnies: Too Smart for Their Own Good

The Black Rebel Bunnies (BRB, aka us) braved the elements this afternoon
to compete in the DC Spy Game. After rapidly solving the first clue to
determine the start location and time, we knew we had this competition
in the bag. Who better to win a competition than the world's biggest
Alias fans and stars of their very own spy movie. Little did we know
going in that we were too smart for this competition. So smart, in
fact, that we came in last place. So smart that the organizers kept
calling us practically begging us to give up with their voices, tired of
waiting for us to finish. Yes, the clues were hard (seriously), but the
real problem is that we thought too much about the clues. We didn't get
the clues until we dumbed ourselves down...see, too smart for the
competition. Regardless of the outcome, we had a blast almost getting
blown away at the Washington Monument (again seriously), willing the
rain not to come and cursing a detour to the National Gallery. Good
times that ended with good food and now a comfy bed. And Ravenchase,
prepare yourselves because BRB will be back and we will dominate.
Serena

The popular conundrum

According to the book of Benrik (sidebar), today is Mainstream Day. What better day than today to post on my aversion to most things popular*. When things (books, movies, music, clothes) enter into that phase where everyone just has to have it, I begin to get annoyed with the very existence of the object in question. The Da Vinci Code, for example, was an entertaining enough book, but the thought of millions of people signing up to join the cult of Dan Brown and worship at the altar of his stories makes me want to wretch. It most assuredly makes me want to avoid it like the plague. The Oprah effect is also part of the problem. I have no issue with Oprah, but I do find it a bit mind blowing. Take Oprah's latest book club pick, A Million Little Pieces. It was on my list of books to read when it first came out, but I just never got around to it. Because of Oprah every soccer mom, ritalin-popping wannabe is reading the book. Now, despite the fact I've heard he is a brilliant writer, I'm hesitant to pick up the book. In my mind, I recognize that insane popularity doesn't directly translate to complete and utter crap, but moving past that hurdle is difficult. This isn't a new phenominon with me. I was one of two girls during my freshman year of high school that truly hated New Kids on the Block. No shirts, buttons, dolls or cds for me. I guess the question I'm left asking myself is whether I can reconcile my intense dislike of mainstream popularity with a genuine interest in something that makes it big.

*Don't think of me as one of those people who thinks they're so cutting edge or too cool to like something everyone else likes. That's not where I'm going here. I just don't want to be a drone.

Beep-Beep...ahhh

I'm willing my way to a better week and a much more chipper mood. I'm actually getting a little excited for Saturday's Spy Game (now if we can all just get registered). Solving clues and going on a chase throughout DC, pretending to be someone I'm not...what could be more fun? One thing I have learned about myself over the years is that, while Monopoly or Go Fish may not be my games, I do love me some random, wacky fun. I like adventure or at least the semblance of adventure. There is a time and place for movies (big fan), but give me a choice between that and something random like making a movie or go to the DC High Heel Race and I'll choose the more random option almost every time. What's the most adventurous/random fun you've had? Send me your ideas!

e-therapy

I love the therapy aspect of a blog. Maybe I'm taking it a bit too far when I pour rants and raves, heart and soul online for whomever to read. I don't believe that, though. I take an odd comfort in reading about the emotional ups and downs of my fellow bloggers. It's not that I'm glad everyone's life is as dramatic, happy or often as boring as mine; it's just that knowing people are out there thinking the same things I think and fighting the same fight I fight really does make this world seem smaller. It's like giant group e-therapy, and I love it.

The food of Elvis

Do you ever go to a place and look around, wanting to automatically make it yours? The people you see there are the kind of people you automatically want to make friends with and have in your inner circle? Last night I joined a friend at Busboys and Poets and felt that vibe. It's one of those places where you want to belong. Walking in, the creative energy of the place rolls over you. I wanted to paint, to blog, to design. It was that life I wanted to live and those people I wanted to know. Hanging out in the city always makes me starry eyed. In the city, the creativity is a palpable , organic thing. In Fairfax, the fair suburban isle I call home, you have to stumble across creativity, peeling back layer upon layer of mass appeal. Thank God I've stumbled upon a few kindred spirits out in Virginia that make it ok to call it home for now.

Am I really that lame?

The short answer is yes. Why, you ask? My most recent Netflix arrived today and with it came Darrin's Dance Grooves. That's right. I basically order white people can't dance 101. I should be disturbed with myself, but it just looks too hilarious not to try. I've been obsessed with dancing for awhile now and dance movies are my absolute favorite (the only dvds I'll actually allow myself to purchase). Dirty Dancing was my all-time favorite movie as a kid and still ranks rather high. Back to Darrin's, I figure the dvd will serve a good warm up to the dance class I'm making some friends take with me next week (they don't know this yet..shhh). Plus, I'm all about a chance to laugh at myself.

The conundrum

Like everyone and their mother out in blogland, it seems I'm facing some kind of New Year's Eve (NYE) conundrum. Let's just say that I'm a New Year's virgin. Obviously, I've experienced the passage from old year to new (hell...30 of them), but I have never actually celebrated by going out and surrounding myself with others. Let me repeat myself just to make sure we're on the same page...n.e.v.e.r. During my formative years, I would watch the apple drop in New York on the TV from the comfort of the parental abode. My mom would flip back and forth between celebration shows, and I would fantisize about partying the night away at one of those clubs when I got older. I would wear a dress that shimmied when I shook my ass and have some tall, dark man to shimmy with. Well, I did get older and somehow just forgot to celebrate on NYE. I think all of the societal brouhaha about it needing to be some stupendous night caused me to go into hiding. I don't respond well to pressure like that. I fell into another tradition once I moved to Virginia. Watch Night service at church. This year I've decided no hiding at home, no hiding at church (not that I was hiding)! Societal pressure be damned. We're popping this NYE cherry because this girl is going out!

This place is a prison

I just picked the dj for my wedding. Confused? No need to worry. I didn't get engaged, meet Mr. Right, go on a date, or even manage to respond to a booty call. The sad fact is that in some things I am a typical girl (much to my consternation). I see white dresses and think that that's how I'd like my wedding dress to look. I drive by a beautiful spot near water and imagine a simple barefoot ceremony. And, today, I realized what awesome mix cds Scarlet makes and decided she would make the perfect dj for the event.

I would be curious to see if any scientific studies have been done to identify the gene that causes us to even think about things like weddings in this way. I refuse to believe that I am so easy to program that your average socialization has done this to me.

Laughter...the new way to healing?

Having more free time on my hands than I normally do this holiday weekend, I also took in my fair share of TV. In addition to realizing what complete crap most shows are (and the true brilliance of some), I found myself watching a bit of Comedy Central's Last Laugh on Christmas Day. I have to profess that this wasn't really of my own doing, since I'm not one of those girls who can just sit down and watch stand-up comedy. To be honest, I find many of them crass and my PC (aka political correctness) alarm clangs so loudly that my head follows suit. However, I was a guest on Christmas Day and decided I could sit through a little Comedy Central in exchange for being able to finish watching Elf. I found myself bothered at the insensitivity of the Katrina jokes and was working hard on not getting Serena when things shifted. Carlos Mencia took the stage, and I had one of those wacky moments of clarity when you begin to view the world just a little differently. Yes, comedians are a crass bunch that say things most of us would never say. I even think there are some shitty comics out there who are just mean, bitter people. However, what if some of those comedians are leading a new fight to make this a better place. Instead of hiding behind their principles or something far worse, they are out there shining a social spotlight on some of the problems in this country and trying to make it funny, so it's easier for us to swallow. Musicians have been doing it for years. Maybe now comedians are the new vehicle for rallying the people.

Knitta

How can I not blog about this?! It's like I found yet another creative mecca. Knitta is a small band (~2) of knitters who started turning all of their unfinished projects into graffiti. The Houston Press recently wrote an intriguing piece, Knitta, Please, on the weekend exploits of these two women, and I got absolutely giddy just reading it. To truly get my giddiness, you have to get my obsession with graffiti, my sporadic knitting and my penchant for random, wacky fun. These women (young mothers) do a little tagging, grab a beer and head home to the fam. Oh...and they document their work with photos!

They leave their mark with calling cards that say things like "knitta, please" and "whaddup knitta". The only message they seem to be driving home is fun and creativity, maybe the desire to encourage all of us to think outside-the-box when it comes to art. Who knew fellow Texans could be so cool?

Anyone up for a little random tagging up in NVA?

Holiday scuttlebutt

Rumor has it I had a good time last night. Let's examine the facts:
* Coffee @ Jamie's General Bean: good coffee, friendly people, talking with Scarlet about good first kisses
* Red Robin: honey mustard, water, stories
* Steven's apartment: mistletoe, boxers, Gilmore Girls, Elvis, calendars
Rumor status: True

Seasons change; should scene changes be more frequent

I definitely don't consider myself someone who is "of the scene". Hell,
I don't even know what a scenester is and, if I could even fathom a
definition, would probably get it wrong. I am decidedly uncool and am
alright with that most of the time. That said, I did come to the
realization that I need different bar scenes depending on how social I'm
feeling.

My all-time favorite bar scene is the cozy bar. This is the dark, yet
well-lit bar with comfortable couches and potentially a fireplace. The
comfortable bar is where you can easily kick back with friends for a
drink and talk the night away. One of my favorite comfortable bars in
DC used to be Ozio.

Then there's the music bar where you can go to hear the really good (or
passably good) live music. Maybe you'll meet someone, maybe you'll
socialize but you're really there for the music. I actually can't think
of any places like this in DC that I favor. There's a place in
Georgetown that isn't bad, and I supppose the Black Cat could be this
place (just haven't been there enough). 9:30 club I don't consider a
bar.

Lately, I've been trying to make a swank place called Blue Gin (a new DC
place we all love) into one of those bars where you go to meet people.
Last night I came to the conclusion last night that, for all its
coolness, it wasn't that kind of place and couldn't be made into one. I
love dancing on its tiny dance floor and like the atmosphere, but it is
a place for couples and cliques. Even if you wanted to go there in an
attempt to meet men, you'd find the men decidedly stuffy (it is
Georgetown). Budding young politicians looking for their first
stay-at-home.

I honestly don't believe you can really "meet someone" in a bar, but
sometimes it's just nice to talk to new people. Not that we're on a
quest, but I continue to keep my eyes open for a place to hang that
doesn't turn my stomach or make me feel like I'm in some covert episode
of America's Next Top Model.
Serena

Free the elves

Holidays usually bring about time for reflection, at least they usually
do for me. This year, however, I've just bopped merrily along with nary
a pause for that deep, introspective thought. Even now, I just tried to
get worked into a frenzy about some injustice but couldn't quite manage
it. My mind just bounced back to thoughts of peppermint and holiday
balls. Because of the bad weather we're having the homeless people's
place on the sidewalk has been decimated. I registered it. It saddened
me, but I didn't come close to shedding the tear I might have in the
nonholiday season. Does internal happiness sometimes work as a shot of
immunity against noticing the wrongs of the world? Am I *too* happy to
let in a little grey? Hope not.
Serena

Baby, it's fucking cold outside

As much as I love this cold weather, standing out in the cold waiting on
a bus destined to be late just about kills this Texan. You can't laugh
off the experience riding the bus gives. I've done local buses, county
buses, commuter buses and even Greyhound to Texas. No matter the bus,
day or time, you are most assuredly guaranteed to meet some interesting
characters. Today, for example, I am joined by a girl who insists on
carrying on a cell conversation at decibals even the dead can hear. To
make matters more interesting, she's spent the last 10 minutes trying to
convince, what I can only assume to be her boyfriend, to pierce his
balls. I've met convicts, loons, excons who watched over me...all these
people on the bus. On my last trip home, I befriended a group of thugs
in back. Hell, I figure if something goes down I figure I wanted those
guys on my side.

Moral of the story: I recommend that any writer looking for ideas just
hop on a bus.
Serena

The merriment continues

Someone seriously needs to slap the Christmas spirit out of me. If the
leapings on my inside were visible on the outside, I would get on more
than my fair share of nerves. Some things that have kept me joyful:

*chocolate mint candy canes
*decorating Steven's Christmas tree while listening to Christmas cds
*decorating stockings
*having the makings for "real" eggnog
*cold weather and snow on the ground
*finding Emmett Otter's Jug Band Christmas on dvd
*colorful holiday balls
*cookie swap
*craft projects
*knowing what to get most everyone
*Christmas lights
*kissing balls (screw mistletoe)
--radicalflower