Yay, for recess!

If I ever get out of work today, I will be the happiest person in D.C. The past month-summer-year has been so intense. Don't get me wrong, I've had a great time. But I am burned out. Work is the main culprit and I fear that things will only get worse once my two colleagues leave this month. I hope that I will be able to continue to perform well in my new role. It's more responsibility, which is both exciting and frightening.

I hope that things are slow in August for me. I have so much backlog to get through at work. But I've learned to keep my expectations low when it comes to how calm any given workday will be, even during recess. So I'm thinking that I will have packed days most of August—at least on the days that my boss is in the office.

This month, I'll be saying goodbye to two friends. A-M is moving down South for graduate school and NY4Eva, my work friend, is moving to London for graduate school. I will miss them both, but now I have a great excuse to travel during the next few years. Their absence will definitely impact my social life (A-M) and my work sanity (NY4Eva). The good thing is that both of them plan on returning to DC once school is over. I've lost so many friends over the years, and I would hate to lose two more. That's the unfortunate thing about sticking around in such a transient city as DC.

Alright, back to work. This was my obligatory end of August post. Keep your fingers crossed that I can leave work today while the sun is still up.



I never thought that I was the sort of girl who would be drawn to boys with tattoos. First of all, I go between indifference and abhorrence when it comes to tattoos. I understand that they are a means of self-expression and individuality. But, in addition to more philosophical reasons, I feel that skin is beautiful on it's own. Plus, I tend to go for the clean-cut type.

That's why it was so shocking that I was turned on by a boy and his tat. He was a cute server at Busboys and Poets, and had this dark band tattooed on his beautifully sculpted upper arm. I nearly jumped out of my seat in wanting to trace it with my tongue. Let me disclose that I have a thing about a guy's muscular upper arm. It's so sexy and having a tattoo there just enhances it.

Now, I don't plan on hanging outside of tattoo salons but I will make an exception to my clean-cut rule if the guy has that particular type of tat.


Mom Check-In

My mother is in town. It was nice to spend time with her, showing her where I live, work and play. There is a surreal disconnect between the life I lead in D.C. and the life I led under my mother's roof - between Hippo Q. as a child and Hippo Q. as an adult. We are trying to bridge that gap and built an adult, mother-daughter relationship. But there is so much of my life now that I choose to keep to myself. I prefer to share only what I feel inclined to share. I guess that means I'm selfish. I prefer to not show any emotion other than peace, joy or indifference. Maybe that means I'm repressed as well. But really, I think that I'm a private person. The lack of openness isn't limited to my mother. The key is that I'm aware of that tendency, and willing to become more open so that I can built stronger relationships.

Still, it was a good visit. We ate, laughed, shopped, and walked all over the city. The key for her was to see that I am doing fine – even great. I am.


Sunlight & Graffiti

Right now, I'm headed to Silver Spring to meet my mother. I haven't been there since I said goodbye over a year ago. Downtown Silver Spring definitely treated me well those 3 years, but I am much happier living a more urban life in CoHe. If nothing else, the long Red line commute no longer discourages me from visiting DC friends and experiencing the city.

But riding the metro now, I must say that I miss the commute--mainly watching the scenery change. And the graffiti. I like the random political messages that are interspersed among the gang tags. No, I don't want to deal with a red line commute ever again, but I do wish my metrorail commute from the Hill to CoHe included a bit of sunlight and graffiti.



I feel horrible for letting my blog languish. I used to post so regularly--and with relatively interesting posts. Now, days and weeks pass without much cleverness or insight from my life. Just the mundane because I rarely have the time or energy to write like I used to.

And it will only get worse. I found out last week that I'm getting a promotion as my superior in the office is leaving. This is amazing news, given that I've only been in the office for 5 months. Again, it shows how fast ascent can be on the Hill given office turnover and the election cycle.

I'm nervous about being able to sustain my A-game in the face of more responsibilities--and an feeling of burn-out already setting in. But if I want to work for Obama, I better get used to it because things are only more stressful and nonstop there.

So, apologies to my regular readers for being a slacker. Recess is only a few weeks away and that means more posts, right?


Gym Rat, eventually

I joined the gym in my neighborhood hoping to break a year long hiatus from physical activity. I joined on Saturday but still haven't convinced myself to return for a work out. I walk by the gym every morning and evening but have yet to go in. It's a mere 6 blocks from my house, but once home, anything beyond the front porch seems too far a trek. I've been telling myself that I will kick-off my new exercise routine this weekend, but I fear that I'll oversleep or find some other way to sabotage actually getting myself to the gym.

Basically I feel too lazy and too out of shape to start a fitness routine. Silly, huh? I just know that I don't have the stamina for a full hour-long workout, and I hate getting all sweaty and red in the face—ready to collapse at any moment.

I was so fit in high school, college, and grad school. I don't know what happened. These days you truly have to twist my arm to get me to take the stairs instead of the elevator and all my awesome Denise Austin and Lotte Berk Method videos are gathering dust.

I feel so sluggish, tense and wobbly these days and I know that exercise is the best way to get better. But, first I have to actually go to the gym. No more excuses. I want to transform my body into the youthful, efficient machine it was back when I played varsity soccer in high school. I'll even settle for my 4-times a week yoga-body. Or at least, I want to be able to run for the Metro bus or train without breaking a sweat.


Broken Mirror = Bad Luck?

This morning, I noticed that the hand mirror I tote around in my bag had shattered. I think that it broke last weekend when a friend stepped on my bag. It is sad to lose that particular mirror because it belonged to my father and also, Floyd said it was designed for cutting coke in the 1970s. I thought that was cool.

I am a bit spooked about breaking the mirror. I remember a hand mirror breaking when I was a child and not thinking anything of it. But these days anything affiliated with black magic and superstitions freak me out. As a result, I particularly feel the need to defend myself against the possibility of 7 years of back luck or whatever other ills that sites like this detail.

I believe that fiddling with the dark arts opens you up to the dark arts. The junior high sleep-over standards of Ouija, Bloody Mary, Stiff as a Board, etc shouldn’t be viewed as just games. I wish I didn’t take me until after high school to figure that out. That’s when I gave away the voodoo doll and other items my friend gave me after a trip to New Orleans, and when I regretted summoning my deceased father during a séance. I didn’t know better then. Now I do.

While I recognize that we are surrounded by supernatural entities on a regular basis, I prefer to not recognize or seek them out lest I end up beckoning something that would do me wrong.

So, tonight I will probably contemplate burying the crushed mirror shards in the moonlight to rid myself of the supposed curse. But, most likely, I will wrap them in newspaper, say a prayer and throw them away.