I’ve always been drawn to city living. I grew up in a big town that felt very small (I swear everyone knows everyone or at least has less than three degrees of separation between each other). The town is surrounded by foothills and farms and farms and more farms. Growing up there, I dreamed of escaping. I think at some point or another, most of us dream of escaping our hometowns. Many of us do but I can tell you that just about every time I go home, I run into someone I went to middle or high school with still (I’ve been graduated since 2003). My hometown is small like that.

 First I wanted to move to New York City. I fell in love with that city during many family vacations. Who wouldn’t want to have about a million different Broadway shows and plays at their fingertips? That dream soon changed when I realized that never in a million years would I want to deal with those crowds all the time…

In college, I renewed my love for DC. It was close to my hometown but might as well have been a world away. In a lot of ways, this city is very unique. It’s the seat of our government and just about everywhere you turn, there’s some touch of government or history. I like that. I honestly get more excited about seeing politicians than I would if I saw a movie star. This may mean that I’m a big dork who can’t escape her Political Science roots but I digress… I love that I can walk on the same ground as so many people who came before me, famous and not famous. I love the unending sense of awe I feel when I look at the Capitol building or when I stand on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial seeing the same view that Martin Luther King Jr. saw during one of his most famous speeches. I love that I can go to a ton of free, truly world-class museums and then stop by the memorials on my way home. I love the protesters and protests that seem to find themselves here.  This city is truly one where it’s fun to walk around with no real agenda or schedule. This is a good place to wander. There is so much here that I have right at my fingertips.

I currently do not live within the district lines but the Architect and I are talking more and more about trying city living for a little while after I graduate. I’m excited about the prospect.

So what are you? A city mouse or a country mouse?

Post inspired by featured_grownups. Go visit!

I live in a fairly nice apartment complex. Most of the people who live here work and I have to imagine they all have fairly decent jobs. It’s nice here and I have to imagine that most of the people that live here fall somewhere in the middle class. Most people here drive reasonable cars that are in line with the sort of environment that we live in. Every once in awhile I’ll catch a glimpse of a car that is totally out of place. There’s someone a few buildings down from us owns a Hummer! It’s an H3 (one of the cheaper versions) but it’s a Hummer nonetheless. And it’s ridiculous, really ridiculous

First off, I’m not sure why one would see the need to have a Hummer in Suburbia. There are no mountains here. No places to go off-roading. No rivers or streams you can drive through. There’s highways, avenues, highways, and highways.

Second off, I just find it odd that someone would buy such an expensive car while living in a place like this (there’s definitely no place to off-road in this apartment complex). It’s insane to me but I guess everyone has their own priorities. Some want big, fancy cars. Some want other things. I guess whomever this person is has a penchant for wanting ridiculous cars. I know that mine would be quite different…

Just a little bit of an update….

- We spent most of the weekend in PA with the Architect’s family. On Saturday, we went to the Farm Show. It’s basically like a county fair with no rides (save an old fashioned carousel) and lots and lots of food and animals. I had a lot of fun. We also came home with a whole bunch of new spices to try out. There was a fabulous spice vendor there.

We saw these guys:

And this lady:

- Last night, I had the youngest sister (KT) over to hang out. We saw “Leap Year.” Not anything too high brow but it was very cute and made me desperately want to go to Ireland.

- The Architect cooked a whole bunch of goodies for us including garlic knots and bbq chicken pizza. Yummy!

- I got my hair cut very short today (It’s just at my shoulders now). It’s adorable though. I’ll try and get some pictures up this week.

- Speaking of pictures, we got a new camera as a late Christmas gift to each other. It’s a Nikon Coolpix (blue, naturally) and has a whole bunch of settings. Most amazingly, it has a special setting for taking pictures of food, which is ridiculous but awesome.

- We went downtown this afternoon to walk around. We ate at Matchbox which is always a favorite. It was nice to be able to spend our day off together just walking around.

How was your weekend?

It has always amazed me how quickly nature can reclaim from us humans what was once hers and hers alone. We build machines and edifices and can’t fathom how something as subtle as nature can take them and transform them in a relatively small amount of time. We build fantastically large buildings as a testament to ourselves and to our technology. They are our mark. They say that we are here and that we’ve been able to conquer the forces of nature to build these monuments to our own genius.

I’ve been haunted by the History Channel show, “Life After People,” which aired about a year ago. The show discusses what would happen if people were no longer on earth to maintain all of our creations. In mere hours, things would begin to fall apart.  Subway tunnels would flood. Electric grids would falter. The dams would overflow. Humans maintain it all. Nature is a powerful force but I think that we often forget how powerful it can be.  We just don’t think about it on a daily basis. Why would we anyway? It is too dreary to ponder for long…

The abandoned buildings frighten me but on the other hand, I still find myself intrigued. What happens when there is no one left to care for what we put so much time and effort into? We’re lulled into this false security that what once stood will always stand. We want to believe that what we build cannot be so easily taken down. It’s easy to lose sight of how much work we actually put into things in order to make them run.

I find myself walking the streets of the city and of the towns surrounding wondering what they’re eventually going to look like. Busted windows. Chipping paint. Jungles of weeds and vines.  Everything, even all of the skyscrapers in the world will eventually return to the earth. It makes me feel so small.

Inspired in part by the photos and this photo essay by Camilo Jose Vergara (definitely worth a look).

(18.   Something inspired by what you see in these photos by Belegost_the_Naugrim.- Mode of creation open- (3 pts) )

Moon, you are mine, dear

Watch me from the big window

Tuck me in tonight

Mysterious moon

Follow me down the vast hall

Keep me safe from harm

Landscape of empty

Craters, seas, dust, rocks and white

You shine on and on

Soft, grey light through blinds

Blanket me with a vast dream

Shroud me til morning

The moonlight dances

Tulips, daisies, and roses

Bend down to its will

The moon breaks the heat

Bugs come out to play in lights

Frogs sing for summer

Autumn has turned cold

Coating all in ghostly light

The harvest moon rose

Winter brings new moon

The moon rises over snow

Cold and clear is she

(24. 8 haiku about the moon- all in different sentiment and meaning (4 pts.))

The garage had always been his haven. Ava had the house to decorate and put her personal touch on, Warren had the garage. He was fine with that arrangement and found it to be quite positive actually. He could turn on the radio and listen to Chopin if he wanted (his preference on Sundays) or Johnny Cash (his preference through the rest of the week). Ava didn’t care what he did in the garage. Warren could have built a lab and started doing routine frog dissections and Ava would not have cared in the slightest. Warren usually had about 3-4 wood working projects going at once. He liked being able to drop one project to work on another when the whim hit him. It made him feel a bit freer and kept him a little more on his toes.

Mornings were quiet in the small Texas town and that’s when Warren liked to work best. The morning of January 15^th found him carving figs and leaves into a rich, dark mahogany armoire. He was concentrating so hard that had there been an earth quake, he never would have felt a this. Once he finished, he stood back and looked at his work. The carving really added some extra elegance and really helped to dress the whole thing up. He knew Ava would love it. In some small way, he did get to add at least a little bit of his own touch to the inside of the house.

(58. Something that takes place in a garage, incorporating the following words: figs, frog dissection, radio, Texas, earth quake, Chopin, dress. Mode of creation open ( 5 pts))

Everyone in this town has a schedule that they don’t ever deviate from. Arrive by 8, leave by 6 every single day. We see each other on the trains and the buses every single day yet not a word shall ever pass between any of us. I’ve made peace with this sort of invisibility that I seem to have when I ride the bus. It’s crowded and stinks like dirty shoes and rubber but I like that invisibility. The visitors don’t understand this vow of silence that each commuter takes. They’ll talk and ruin the atmosphere with disregard for those who want to remain silent and anonymous.

I’m an unassuming man. I’m of average height, average weight and slightly balding (although much to my pleasure, it’s only really notable in direct sunlight. I find myself wondering as I look in the mirror how many more years… perhaps months that will last. But the bottom line is that I look like so many of the other men that pass through those squeaky bus doors. What I’m saying is that I blend in on the bus. I like it that way. We spend most of our lives trying to stand out in some way. From our cradle to our grave, so many of us want the limelight shone on us even just for the briefest minute. I’ll admit that I like that every once in awhile. I like that I have been able to be very successful in my career and life in general. That light has shone on me many times.  It gets old. At the end of the day, it’s nice to be able to retreat into my own thoughts and simply be without anyone knowing or caring who I am or what I did today or yesterday or the day before.

There’s something to be said for being able to escape undetected like this. Sure this bus is simply taking me where I need to go and not to some place more exciting but it in itself is an escape. I’ll take it.

(3.       Something that takes place on a bus- Mode of creation open- ( 4 pts) )

I’m in the middle of watching the coverage on the Haiti earthquake. My heart and my prayers got out to all of those that have been affected by the earthquake. It’s horrible. I can’t even imagine how scary it must have been to go through that. So many of the buildings seemed to be simply shattered.

Unfortunately in a time where we should all be sending good thoughts, prayers and help towards the victims of the earthquake, there is at least one person who is not. Today Pat Robertson (preacher and apparent crazy man) stated that the reason that Haiti suffered this devastating earthquake is that in order to win freedom from the French, they made a “pact with the devil.” It’s absolutely ridiculous. What I want to know is how someone who calls themselves Christian says something like this??? It’s sad that someone would say something like this ever but particularly after such a devastating event. Sheesh… some people.

Anyhow, I know that I’ll be donating to the American Red Cross tonight and if you are able to, I would urge you to do the same!

(If this post were a movie, it would be rated PG-13… so yeah… just so you know)

So here in DC, we have these things called Prostitution Free Zones (PFZs), which are exactly what they sound like. It’s not like prostitution is allowed anywhere in the District so I suppose these zones are areas where police are particularly interested in watching even if that is still a touch redundant. This week, one of the local city websites, DCist, came out with a story about how if people are found with more than three condoms and police have reasonable suspicion to believe that the person is engaging in prostitution, they can be cited.

While simply carrying three or more condoms in a PFZ is not considered probable cause for the police to arrest a person, it can be one of the factors that police use in conjunction with other factors.

This kind of worries me a little bit. I can totally see people being less willing to carry condoms on then meaning that they may be more willing to engage in unprotected sex to avoid the hassle of . That could potentially be a big jump to make (and I hope that it is) but if people think that there is the potential that they could get in trouble… well, you never know.  I guess the bottom line to me is that it just seems really strange that the police would use this counting method to factor into somebody’s arrest!

He dove down deep again. The musk of river water and silt had settled on his tongue. It tasted of summer memories and love lost. A lot of people wouldn’t swim in the river. They said it was dirty and polluted. A lot of people couldn’t stand the thought of the chance of diving in murky water only to come face to face with one of the ugly catfish that called the river home. John supposed in a way that he and the catfish were sort of alike. The river was his home as well. Now it was anyway.

They don’t tell you how it is when you come home after being away for so long. They leave out the important details like the fact that time waits for no one. People leave and change. Everything is dynamic. John took comfort in the idea that the river hadn’t changed much. It was still murky blue and a little on the cool side. The trees still seemed to reach down over the river as if they wanted to touch the water. It still had the same smell, taste and sound. It was comforting and a safe place to relive old memories.

 It wasn’t his idea to come back to Poplar. Circumstances changed though and he was forced to consider something that he never had before. Years ago, he had planned to leave for good. There was nothing in this town for him. Yet here he was, back in the river. Life has a way of turning things inside out.

(36.  Something which uses the following sentence: The musk of river water and silt had settled on his tongue. – mode of creation open ( 4pts) )