Thursday, January 7, 2010

Back to DC

When I woke this morning around 7, there was already a surprising amount of snow on the ground. I immediately thought that I should implement a plan (and why didn’t I think of this last night?) to get to the airport quickly to catch an earlier flight out of the city. I cleaned the guest bedroom and began packing. Christ, I acquired a bunch more clothes over the break. Bob and Kari dropped me at the Blue Line and by 9:15 I was on a train heading to O’Hare.

When the train emerged from underground after the Division stop, the white sky and snow were almost blinding. I looked out on Milwaukee Ave., peering at all the familiar shops, restaurants that I used to pass by all summer long. And then before that, on my bicycle every day when I lived in Logan Square. I hadn’t walked down this street once in the 16 days I’d been back, and I wondered what the hell I’d been doing with my time. And I thought about the people here I didn’t see, or the people I barely spent any time with. The Boxer Rebellion’s beautiful “Soviets” played on my iPod, and when the line “And all I can see is that I’m sorry, sorry...” it made me sad. I thought of what a lovely break it has been for me, like a vacuum, but outside of that the world is still turning and time marches on and people get older and relationships fade when you don’t take time to care for them.

And I’m sitting here pondering the next semester of school and the next chapter of my life in DC. I’m excited but also uneasy. I should know what to expect, having survived the first semester, but I feel like maybe up to know has been a fluke and now the real experience begins, which is of course ridiculous. I think this uneasiness stems from the in-between time. I’m not sure I’m so good with life in DC during those rare times when I’m not a student. Because that is what I am – a student; it’s why I’m here. And when school is not in session – well, I’m not really sure what I am.

School just needs to start, I’ve decided.


  1. If I weren't a student, there's no way I could afford to live in Boston, balls. That's all I know.

    But it was occurring to me today I don't appreciate my position as much as I should? Hard to do sometimes when you're terrified of screwing up the new semester...gulp.

  2. You're a nurse. You need to just start calling yourself that. I feel like I'm a writer, so when people ask what I do, I tell them the thing that pays the bills, but I always say, "and I'm a writer." Gotta fake it until we make it.