locals vs. foreigners

DC is an interesting place. It's always in flux, constantly changing and changing beyond every four years. As a Washingtonian, I'm not aware of dislike of "foreigners," whether from Texas, California, Kansas, the other Washington, or France, Ghana, Argentina, China. Some may feel differently around tourist season when the population of the district swells exponentially, but overall...we recognize this place is pretty transient and generally go with the flow. I think I have met only two born and raised locals. Maybe.

The reason I bring this up? For an article that my Father pointed out to me, "Californians blamed for spoiling West." I don't think he was pointing it out to me because of my "Californian ways," but more because he was quoted in it. Him and his website Montana Sucks. In this article, locals are upset when 'foreigners' move in and change things. I hear those from Florida are getting upset about New Yorkers elbowing their way in, and despite the fact that California is one of the most populated states, their population is still managing to annoy the rest of the country.

Now...a little disclaimer. I don't say 'annoy' because they annoy me. I'm using that generally. Some of my best friends are Californian...and I do have a little bit of that California attitude after living there for four years. I've joked to people during vacations from school about how "oh, well, I must be turning into a Californian," since they were about the complete opposite of a Texan. With that being said...I'm almost certain I'll end up in Texas. Sure, California's great, Boston's great in the spring and Virginia's got some gorgeous places...but I'm not sure you can take the Texas out of the girl. I tried when I first left.

So. Despite the US being a melting pot, it seems it may be more of a pot filled with water and oil, with each portion wanting to remain on its side. We're all set in our ways, and certianly don't want those crazy Westerners/Northerners/Southerners changing things! I've even caught mysefl in Washington thinking, "in Texas, this would be different." But honestly, can you blame the oil for wanting to mix?

Take the above photo. Beautiful. And that was in May before the sun really came out. Even a tried and true urban girl like me misses that place and loved being out there. I'm almost counting down the days where I can go back and visit Flathead Lake and...well...and do nothing up there in the mountains and just look at how incredibly green the trees are, or falling asleep while the boat rocks on a lake the size of an ocean (to my urban eyes).

Oh wait...I'm sorry. I forgot. Montana sucks. Everyone should just stay where they are. It's a horrible place full of...of...hmmm. Well, there's no urban landscape there. No mass pollution, cars with a permanent weight on their hands. There we go.

vincent van gogh

I spent the early part of the afternoon down at the National Gallery today. I went mainly to see the photography exhibition: Paris in Transition, which did have some pretty cool photographs. I recommend checking it out while it's here. There were a couple of Stieglitz's photographs there, especially this one taken in the rain in Paris that he had printed on a paper used for watercolors in order to get a texture on the print to make it actually look a little wet.

Anyway...the title of my post is not Paris in Transition, so I'll get to the point. I'm currently reading a collection of Vincent van Gogh's letters, which is actually pretty fascinating. On a side note, I didn't know that in his early years, before he started painting, he actually thought of becoming a pastor and went through a pretty religious period. And also that the myth isn't true, that he didn't only sell one work during his lifetime. And for whatever reason, I was under the impression he cut off his ear because of a woman, but it turns out it was after an argument with Gauguin.

The security guard who glanced through my bag saw my book on van Gogh and suggested I check out the Impressionist collection upstairs, which I have seen before. And I thought "eh...maybe, if there's time." I ended up going up to look at them and saw three (there were more, but these were the first ones I saw) van Gogh pieces next to each other. The one if the middle, something along the lines of flower fields in Holland, looked more realistic than something say...his "Starry Night." And I thought, this must have been done before he went to Paris.

The next painting was of an olive field during a harvest, and it was down in the sharp, thick strokes of the van Gogh we all know and love. This, I began to think, had to have been done after his trip to Paris and the south of France when he met the Impressionists. I checked the dates: The first painting was done in 1883. The second was 1890. In his letters, I'm currently finishing up the year 1888, and he's mentioned his idea of painting a starry night.

It was kind of cool to have all that background info and to be able to apply it while looking at art. I don't think it was really analyzing, but it really helped me to see how he progressed, and then of course I wondered what his painting would be like had he not gone to France. You can also sense the color change too. His colors in the later years were much more vibrant, and he comments about this in his letters to his brother, how in Holland the color scheme is more grey, and then in France they're much brighter.

I will be buying more artist biographies now. I have a biographical novel of Michelangelo in my to-read pile, but I have two more books I have to read first. Let me know what you think of the photography exhibition if you like it. And also...I love that the NGA has so many Monets. They're beautiful!

'california dreamin''

Weather like this makes me wish I was back in California. As I walked to work this morning, all I wanted was to be in my car (which sadly I no longer own...and very much miss it) driving through the mountains of Southern California with my windows down, Placebo, Opus III or DJ Sammy on the stereo and a trip to the Starbucks on Orange for my iced soy chai that I can then enjoy on the patio with the mountains in the background...especially when the weather's like this and they're still snow-tipped.

I may have to take some "sick" time this afternoon if it remains sunny. I will be spending much time outside this weekend. How did I ever think I liked cold weather and night best?

Oh...yeah...when we had over 30 days in a row of temperature over 100. No one should have to be put through that.

Anyone else with me? Let's take our laptops and go work outside. I may not have my mountains or my car, but I can at least still have my iced soy chai and a patio table.

spring break and st. patrick's day

Though I have not yet come to terms with the fact that I will not ever have a spring break again, unless I do decide to go to law school (but even then I will still be working) I have to admit that this past week has felt a little like a break. This is probably due to the late nights and the fact that I had a chance to play tour guide. I love playing tour guide because I'm reminded of how great this city is. Take the monuments. I don't go down to see them very often and every time I go, I remember just how incredible and incredibly moving they are and vow to make it a point to return. Soon.

And then I don't usually.

But I am promising that again. And I will try to make a point to keep that promise. The cherry blossom festival will happen soon, so that's at least one more time that I will make much effort to go down to the Mall.

One other cool thing, while I'm on the topic of the Mall and then on to St. Patrick's Day, but on Tuesday I got to walk in the reflecting pool. It was drained, as were all the fountains (which was a bad thing, in particular with WWII), and at first I didn't want to walk in it as some were doing because it felt almost disrespectful. But as a tourist group of loud high school students surrounded and overtook my friend and me, I felt the need to escape, so we stepped down in the reflecting pool, taking glances back at the Washington Monument and the Capital building in the very center of my line of vision, along with Lincoln in front of us.

Anyway. St. Patrick's Day was great. This year I spent it in a city/country where it's kind of a big deal. Especially if, like me, you're Irish. So I woke up early after a late night dancing (Happy Birthday A!), with some incredible pizza that I think I may still be craving, to make Irish soda bread. I have not made this in over a decade, so who knew how it was going to turn out. My Irish ancestors must have been looking down on me because it was wonderful. I actually have a picture of it, but that may have to wait until I take some more pictures and get my film developed (I know...and I don't want to hear it).

Later that day I joined some friends at Biddy Mulligan's for some drinks. The good conversation more than made up for waiting for about 15 minutes in the bitter cold (although that wasn't too bad either). It was good to hang out with some people I don't normally see. Although it might have been better had they actually been serving their curry fries instead of only what was on their special St. Patrick's Day menu. I guess you can't everything.

And then finally, I went with a friend to a club just outside of NW to see Armin van Buuren. Despite not being able to actually go to the arena (or whatever they call that room) to dance since it was so packed (because it was Armin van Buuren), my friend did manage to score a spot behind the DJ booth where we could dance and keep an eye on our coats. I could have stayed for hours because the music was that good, but I haven't yet broken in my heels and two nights of dancing were really punishing me for all the late nights this week.

It was a really great St. Patrick's Day, if I do say so.

the kindness of strangers

I have been thinking for some time to write a post on how no one smiles in Washington. In my office building when I run into other people on the floor or in the elevator, I'll smile if I catch their eye. Why? Because I'm from Texas and that's what we do. It's nice. It makes your day just a little bit better. Instead of a smile back, I get a straight face or sometime a look that almost says "what is your problem?" My problem is that I don't like being miserable and a friendly smile always brightens the day.

Anyway, that's not what this post is about. Because just when I'm feeling slightly jaded, something happens.

For anyone out in DC this evening, you know that it got cold and very wet. At about 10:30, I found myself in Chinatown about to walk home in the rain. I did it because I didn't think it'd be so bad. After all, I'd just walked from the White House to Chinatown and didn't get very wet. And it's really not a bad walk home.

After a block I could feel my pants getting very wet and my legs getting cold, the top of my hair getting soaked (it wasn't raining hard enough to completely soak my hair, which was good), and the droplets streaming dwon my face. So I decided to do something I rarely do.

I took a cab.

Except...all the cabs that were leaving Chinatown and heading my direction all had people in them. I'm not too far from home now, maybe eight to ten blocks, but a cab would still be nice. And what do you know? One pulled over and asked where I was going. There was a young couple in the backseat, maybe my age, and we chatted for a little about how the cold weather came from nowhere. I don't even know where they were going or how far out of the way I was, but it was nice of them to pull over. I would have gotten an empty cab eventually, because I think one even pulled up behind them, but it was nice to have my faith restored.

And the $6.50 wasn't bad. I thought it'd be double that, but now that I know...I might be more inclined to stay out later in Chinatown and cab it back.

learning to let go

There was an interview over on the BookEnds blog the other day that really struck me. I've been working to try to find the best method of telling my story, without giving up any of the back story. It's the last paragraph when the author talks about how attached to their writing writers get. And this is so true! No matter how much you tell yourself a certain scene slows down pacing, there's always that one line that seems so beautifully crafted that it just has to stay in. And since it can't fit anywhere else, well...looks like that scene's staying.

In my short story, I've found it difficult to let go of the larger story. In the novel, there are more characters, more relationships and the relationships are much more defined. And it's hard, in my mind, to let go of those relationships once the characters are gone. It is very hard, because you work so long on a certain story, a certain direction, that it's difficult to give that all up.

But it works better for the story. And that's what's important. You want to make sure that your story is clear and that all the little nuances fit and work for the reader. They'll work for the writer because the writer has all the back stories that are no longer there. So now I have some decisions to make and many words to write. And the importance of readers (hopefully friends who will be nice since they're critiquing all your loving hours) is illustrated again.

snow

I have to admit, I don't get umbrellas and snow. This may be because I'm from Texas and snow is such a wonderful commodity that I like to enjoy it as it is. Walking hom in the snow today was wonderful. I let the snow collect on my coat and in my hair, with flurries on my eyelashes and yes, maybe I caught one or two flakes on my tongue. I didn't even mind that I could see my breath and that my legs felt frozen through.

Or at least, I didn't mind too much.

Anyway, I will try to post my thoughts on writing that I mentioned previously tomorrow. Even though I loved the snow today, I do hope that this is the last burst of winter. I'm ready to walk all over the city in the sun and to enjoy the warmth again.

spoken too soon

As it turns out, I may have spoken a little early. I walked down to the National Gallery and about froze to death. Part of this was because it was warm the day before, so I wore a light jacket (and thought I was going to be late, so I didn't run back upstairs to get a heavier one). I also, stupidly, figured that once I was in the sun, everything would be ok.

What an idea.

Needless to say, I took the metro home even though taking the metro almost anywhere downtown makes me feel lazy when I have nowhere to be. And apparently there are to be snow flurries middle of this week? I'll be fine as long as it doesn't drop down to 15 degrees again. I also braved the freak cold front to run to the bookstore. I was looking for my book club's new book, but that one was not at the store. So...instead of saving money and not buying anything (what an idea) I ended buying The Agony and the Ecstasy, which is a biographical novel of Michelangelo. I can't remember the author, but I want to say I've heard of this book before.

Right now I'm reading a collection of Van Gogh's letters I picked up over the holidays when I saw a Van Gogh exhibition, so if I do not get my March book, I'll probably start reading about Michelangelo. I do see future book recommendations in the future.

This may be a somewhat meaningless post, except that I did call the freakish cold weather, but I read an interview with a writer recently and something she said really struck me. I intend to post my thoughts on this later this week, and I thought about it even more so yesterday as I had a friend reading my novel-now-short-story and asking about some of the relationships that made a lot of sense in the novel format, and there's just not enough space to explain it in a short story version. But as I said to him, I just...I don't want to change anything that made the characters those people. I like their relationships and how they interact...I can't change that.

But sometimes...you need to sacrifice for your art.

oh sweet, sweet spring

I know it's not technically Spring yet, but last night was quite possibly one of the most beautiful nights in a very long time. And it wasn't just because I went out for sushi for dinner. I could have stayed out walking the city for most, if not all, of the night.

Now, I realize that by saying this some freak cold front is going to come in and the temperature's going to drop to 15 degrees and I'll be stuck inside, not even able to the stockpiles of hot chocolate that I have. But maybe I'll be lucky. Just maybe this wonderful weather will decide to stay for a little and I can go out and once again enjoy the city. I forget how much I love just walking aimlessly around. Haven't done that in some time.

I've had a pretty quiet week at work, but still haven't managed to get my story finished. I've been up almost every night talking to friends until very late so...haven't really had the energy or focus. Until the end of this week. I had Friday afternoon off and I edited a hardcopy (I'm old fashioned and prefer marking up a story to death. It helps me keep my edits straight) and will today transfer those edits to the electronic version.

Maybe it's the change in weather, but I've also had this incredibly strong desire to cook. I have a couple of recipes in mind, so we'll see what the weekend brings.