My First Winter in DC

Technically, I've lived through 25 winters, but this particular winter was very special for me. Now, I realize there are a few of you out there from the mid-west or New York, who have lived through sub-zero winters but you can write about that in your blog. This is my blog and so we're going to talk about my first east-coast winter.

I realized it was over earlier this week when the low for the day was 46 degrees and I remembered how desperate I was for the weather to hit 30 degrees during winter. I somehow learned that 28 degrees for me was nearly insufferable, but 30 was something I could tolerate.

Winter was especially hard with the loss of all my winter clothes (see UPS blog). I decided to spend my first snow day inside- not just because it was snowing but because I think I was hungover. :) I finally chose to meet some friends at a Dupont bar for drinks and put on my boots, gloves, and scarf. The snow was cold, the breeze felt like pin pricks across my bare face, and my head was cold and naked. But I also remember being in awe over how beautiful the snow-covered nights were in DC. The moon was somehow brighter and the snow lying on the sidewalks and houses appeared to glow under the street lights. Nonetheless, I was miserable and ran out the next day to buy four hats and ear muffs (quite possibly my favorite possession, next to my teddy bear and chapstick).

I also used to be close to tears over the 'long' walk from Farragut North (18th and I) to Sign of the Whale (M between 18th and 19th). Every uncovered part of my body was in pain, my body was tense, my breadth became this enormous cloud of fog in front of me. Now, I walk from G and 23rd to Sign of the Whale and marvel over how close the distance is. But somehow, when the whether hit 15 degrees, sub zero with the windchill, that seemed like a lifetime away.

But winter is gone and already, it's a distant memory in my mind. I spent the weekend enjoying 80 degrees in my sun dress and short, summer hair, enjoying the purple, yellow, the white flowers I see everywhere, the white and red daffodils that seem to have been planted over night, and the trees that though bare still, are now dotted with little green buds.

I survived my first winter living on the east coast and I have at least one more to go. Though Spring and Fall are still my favorite seasons, I realize now that there's something to be said about snowy winter nights. Not a lot, but something... :)

Fine Lines and Sensitivity

Absolut Vodka recently ran an ad in their Mexican market (seen above) that basically says that in an Absolut (and perfect) world, Mexico would have all of it's territory as though the U.S. never robbed it from us (this author's opinion... :)). It's a commercial meant to do no harm... just that in a world- an Absolut world- everything is glorious and perfect and Mexicans would associate this glorious world with having their land. Let me tell you this first- most Mexican's don't think they'll get this land back ever... nor do they spend their days wishing they did or plotting to get it back.

But US consumers are so upset about this ad and find it so offensive... why? They can't handle that the U.S. took over Mexican land? Are they afraid that Mexican's are going to cross the borders armed with tanks and guns and take back the land? What are people so sensitive about?

On another advertisement note... I recently saw that some bar in some small city nowhere decided to advertise their taco/cerveza specials as such: Wetback Wednesday. And the community was in an uproar about this.

Let's discuss the differences:

Commercial 1, Vodka: Insults no one and jests at the fact that a perfect world for Mexicans would be a world where Mexicans owned Mexican land- what a concept.

Commercial 2, Tacos: Uses a common derogatory term for Mexicans to imply that on Wednesdays, said bar has cheap tacos and cheap beers.

Both Absolut Vodka and the bar have pulled their ads. Absolut with an apology for offending people and pointing out that this was for their Mexican market. The bar changed their sign to say something along the lines of: For the easily offended, now offering Mexican American Wednesdays. Clearly the bar missed the point BUT also brought up another good point... they also have White Trash Wednesdays and Trailer Park Tuesdays and no one complains about those... Well... yes. But this has been a long running argument. It's a very fine line that might always be blurry... what's the solution? I don't know. But if any of you are in marketing, I would suggest staying away from alluding to all racial jokes just to be safe.

Unanswered Questions

As I prepared for my presentation on sexual and gender based violence (GBV), I shuffled through the reading- things you'd expect (rape, sodomy, trafficking) and the things you wouldn't think of (trading sex for rations, boy-preference as GBV, etc). What disturbed me the most was the dirty, unsexy fact that a large portion of GBV is committed by the very people that are meant to protect these already vulnerable populations. Humanitarian workers. Police offers. Peacekeepers. It baffles me and makes my head spin in circles trying to get a grasp around it.

In 2002 UNHCR put out a report about the outstanding levels of violence perpetrated by humanitarian workers. The report quoted refugees and other workers, young girls saying they were told only girls who had sex with the workers would get food, or aid workers who said they knew about it but did nothing to stop it.

Today we had a guest speaker who mentioned this study and how the aid world was appalled. Yet, in 2006, UNHCR released another report saying nothing had changed. She (working for a US govt org) said that they discovered gross offenses by a NGO in Northern Uganda and they published a report the NGO was not happy about.

So I asked... well, you published the report. And they were unhappy. And you probably didn't fund them again. And then what? What happened to these offenders?

Her response: Excellent question. Nothing.

The ICRC is working on this problem, but in the meantime, she said some of these offenders are fired. Some are just reprimanded. Some return home. And live normal, happy lives. In the meantime, they leave behind women and children, already facing tsunamis, civil war and now being exploited by those mandated to protect... what happens to them?

I order life like I order my lattes

If you're a simple person with simple tastes, then you know exactly the kind of person I am. You know, those people at Starbucks that make you roll your eyes and restlessly tap your foot while I order my coffee. I want a small,non-fathazelnutlattewithnofoam. One breath. Oh, and I refuse to conform to saying "tall, skinny latte." I'm ordering a drink. Not a hot blonde for a date.



The other day I was thinking about how everything in life that I choose is like my latte. It's never JUST a latte. I have very complicated interests. Whether it's food (no Japanese, seafood, or sushi, and no peanut or coconut based curries) or movies (nothing too deep or complicated, no cheesy, slapstick comedy), I am a simple girl with very complicated interests. But I think Starbucks is on to something. Why shouldn't you have your coffee exactly how you want it? I mean, I've heard people order their latte's at 120 degrees. Who even knows what that is?? But I agree with the principle behind this- Burger King has it too with their "have it your way" campaign.

Only every now and then, you find something that didn't fit your particular interests. For example, after my first failed LDR I refused to even date guys that lived outside of SF proper. No. My guy would have to be intelligent, driven, and live within the seven mile radius that I called home. Instead, I started dating anEast Bayer (which, as my good friend said, she "knew you were serious when you went to the east bay twice in one week") who didn't fit my smallnonfathazelnutnofoamlatte mold. But it turns out it was exactly what I was looking for and exactly what I needed.

On one hand, we feel we're entitled to exactly what we want. We want it our way and we've been taught that in this modern age, we can have it exactly how we want 95% of the time. But I can't help but wonder if we're missing the unexpectedly amazing things that fall outside of detailed descriptions of food/careers/styles/men that we think we should have. It's quite possible that we often let the good pass us right by while we're looking at the horizon for something exactly as we imagined it to be.

It's a dangerous trap we risk falling into. Perhaps it's high expectations. Perhaps it's narrow-mindness. But I'm sure I've passed up a good thing or two in the past and I'm sure I'll do it again. I'll continue to order my smallnonfathazelnutlatte just the way I like it, but I'll take good care to ensure that while I do that, I'm not passing up that unsuspectingly good new drink.

Days like this...

Make me feel like I'm in San Francisco. Fresh, crisp air and sunny skies... I wish DC was always like this...

I wish.

I used to just wish I was a little bit taller (I wish I was a baller) but then life happened and I grew up and I got wise and mature and my hair grew, my boobs filled out and I still was not taller. So I moved on to wishing for things that might be more plausible. I wished for a college degree, a good job, great friends, a guy I could be cheesy and dorky with. Great shoes (with three inch hills that for a short time period, made me seem taller) and an ipod that played Michael Bolton, Boyz II Men, and the entire Dirty Dancing soundtrack. The problem is that shoes wear down, ipods run out of battery and need to be replaced, and a college degree will only get you so far.

So I'm always left wishing and wanting. Like most human beings, life is never enough. And today, I tried in vain to lure away my friend from her apartment, bf, job, and school in order to run away with me to wherever our credit cards could afford to take us. I say I tried in vain because I know that neither of us would ever leave our anything- we're not those kind of people. I'd never drop out of school (nor would she), we'd never leave our bfs (do you know how hard it is to find a good man?) and we'd never put ourselves in an unknown situation- where we're not sure how our bills are getting paid, when we'll have more money, and what we're eating for dinner.

So today, I don't wish I had new jeans or a new haircut (two things that have been on my mind lately) but today, I wish I was the kind of person who would go to Mexico/Italy/New Zealand on vacation, decide I loved it so much, and just stayed. Who didn't spend my life wishing I could live one way or the other, that just did. My bf is that kind of person- always reminding met hat I CAN go do x, y, and z if I want to, I just have to do it. It's hard for a person who thrives off stability and certainty to do things like that. But I've been wishing for 25 years (nearly 26) and it's time to run away to a brand new place where I'm happy enough to not want to run away. So this year will the be the year I run (not literally) to my happy place. I will be that girl that doesn't want to go somewhere but that does go somewhere. Whether it's a new city, a new job, or even a new country. Yes, no more wishing for me (unless it's for a new, magical way to make me a little bit taller, the Skeelo way).

The Unemployed Grad Student Life

Well, to be frank, it's a sad, boring life. My other grad school friends say I'm lucky and wish they didn't work. And sure, it has its perks- I sleep til whenever I want- though I try to wake up by ten. I have time to go to the gym and blast Kanye's workout song (I'm hoping to get me a baller man). I have bountiful hours in which I can complete my bountiful reading and not worry about staying up til 2 am getting through five chapters of econ.

But let's talk about the downsides of not working. And not just the fact that payday skips over me like Santa skips over the naughty kids, but the stuff everyone overlooks. Like the fact that since I don't work, I don't have coworkers. This curtails the amount of coworker happy hours- not that I could go to them anyways because all my classes are at night. And once I'm done with the gym, showered, and ready to go, everyone else is still at work. Because apparently, I'm one of the few that opted out of being responsible and took the unemployed route instead. My roommate works. My friends work.

So what human contact do I have until they're off work? Well, there used to be the Starbucks guy until I gave up Starbucks. The library clerk doesn't even look up when I walk into the building. And so I'm left with the pressing desire to actually go to class so that I can catch up with my classmates. This of course, is the 3 minutes before class starts and the 5 minutes we have reserved for a break. And if I have to use the restroom, that curtails my contact with society by at least another 3 minutes.

Of course, my friends have time to hang out when they're done with work. This would be my non-grad student friends. Only when they're getting off work, I'm heading to class. And my grad student friends go from work, to class. This essentially frees ALL of us up by 9pm at the earliest. Except for Tuesdays when a few of us are free by 7pm.

And thus Tuesdays at 7 becomes 'human contact' hour for me. But only once a month because we have study groups, papers, reading to do. So the other three weeks I'm waiting for the weekends or for my roommate to get home, who, btw, also works and goes to school. Then the weekends pour in. And you think, finally, I can have some fun. Wrong. Because despite the fact that you're unemployed, you still haven't finished studying for your midterm, writing your paper, or preparing your group presentation that are due Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of next week. And so you spend the entire weekend, confined in your room/library/cafe, chatting online with your other sad grad school friends, waiting for your Monday class so you can chat with someone other than your gchat friends and your sister that calls you daily.

Yes, I am asking shamelessly for pity. That or a few thousand dollars so I can repay my first year of grad school, drop out, and get a real job with a real life that permits me to once again, have some fun in my life.

Things I Miss

The fog rolling over the trees.

Silly kisses from special people.

Pork buns. Steamed, baked, any way you can make them.

Rushing, busy people with pink bags.

Days when 6 pm for me was 6pm for you.

Carne asada plates with red salsa (and a hint of green).

Barts/metros that wait for transfers.

Writing my name on a white board to wait for dry fried beef.

People of all races and sexes walking hand in hand.

Steep hills up the street, down the street, east, west.

Unfinished bridges linking east to west.

Three dollar mojitos.

Friends that are shorter than me but equally as cool.

The World According to Sister

Today I shared with my sister that I decided (just this weekend) to support Obama. her stunned silence was expected- I was well aware that she is a Hillary fan. What came out of her mouth next led me to question her judgement.

Sister: You are no longer my sister. I disown you.
Me: Huh?
Sister: A vote for Obama is a Vote for Oprah!
Me: hahahahah. Seriously? I really question your judgement sometimes (yea, I said it).

I had a few hours to laugh and let her statement linger... and laugh some more. And then she called me back a few minutes ago.

Sister: You know, Oprah is trying to take over the world.
Me: No she's not.
Sister: Yes she is, everything she has is called O. Her magazine, everything. You think it's a coincidence she supports O-bama?? She wants to take over the world... next thing you know it'll be the United States of Oprah.
Me: hahahahah. Really?
Sister: And she's using Obama to do it! (Pause) Are you listening?
Me: Oh, yea, I'm sorry, I was busy laughing.

And there you have The World According to Sister, who, though usually intelligent, has just solidified my arguement that I am the smarter sister.

The Kindness of Strangers

My friend was kind enough to give us her couch as she is inheriting one herself. We took the couch because a) we need another one and b) we don't really like the couch we have now. My female roommate and I have two male roommates- who somehow always tend to be gone or asleep whenever we need help carrying heavy things and so we're left to fend for ourselves.

After parking the beast of the van we had, we carried the couch from the basement parking lot of her building, to our van parked around the corner, and into the beast. Then we had to park again in front of our house. Needless to say we were having a difficult time parallel parking this 9+ foot animal. Our street is only wide enough to allow one car pass at a time so we were most definitely blocking traffic. A garbage truck was trying to to the other direction but they waited patiently as my roommate backed up, pulled forward, backed up, forward, back... And then the waste management personnel (i.e. trash men) hopped off the back of their ride and offered, with a big smile, to help us park the van. And they did so in seconds.

All I could think of in the meantime, while the man parked our van, was that my wallet lay in the middle console for anyone to take. I was actually nervous about this man stealing my wallet while I watched him park.

And then we took the couch out and lugged it out of the van and up the first few stairs to our door. Then we hit another few stairs and I pretty much gave up. My arms were tired, I was tired, and it was starting to sprinkle. And here comes kind stranger number two, a young Oaxaqueno man who offered to help us carry it in. With his help we were able to get our new sofa in the door in no time at all.

Then he came inside, had a class of water and chatted with us and all I thought was, hmmm... maybe he's staking out our place to see what he can steal.

I finally stopped, paused, and took a moment outside of my accusatory thoughts and realized how distrusting I've become. I automatically thought the worse in these strangers when really, they were showing their best. I felt momentarily ashamed that I'd been so judgemental. I'm not saying I should let my guard down, DC is a city with problems after all, but I think I learned my lesson. Sometimes a kind gesture is nothing more than that...