I’m normally a NOAA girl when it comes to weather coverage, but when things get extreme, I turn to weather.com so that I know just HOW BAD it really is. Today:
That’s right, folks. We are being stifled!! I’m sure if I were not inside my air-conditioned home, I would be positively uncomfortable right now. But since I’m inside packing and procrastinating, I offer you this summer scene:
And I’m going to suggest you view it while listening to “In the Summer” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.
Stay cool, everyone.
… go like this. I do not understand how people (the SAME people, always!!) forget to silence their phones in class.
Also: who calls them? I imagine it’s always the pharmacy, every. single. time.
The New York Times Magazine said recently that denoting. emphasis. like. this. was “meh.” I’m ok with most types of expressive punctuation, so I’ll keep doing it. It’s basically the same as J. D. Salinger’s excessive italicizing, right?
Six more classes. Forever, maybe (until post-doctoral training, but that’s different)….
On a napkin somewhere I have a bucket list for DC… It’s probably in a landfill somewhere, as so many of my wonderful ideas are (or so I’d like to think)…
i have a little over a month left here. I have two weeks of almost complete freedom — I could rent a car and go anywhere. I want to see:
- all the art. Again, for those pieces I’ve already seen
- old things that we don’t have in the west
- that one island memorial (Teddy Roosevelt?)
- maybe the zoo. It feels like something one should see
- more of Baltimore
- some caverns nearby
- even more of Baltimore
- the Textile Museum
- the Anacostia Museum (Anacostia is like 1/4 of DC, separated by the Anacostia River, mostly Black, mostly not entered by anyone who lives in the rest of DC because people think it’s scary. I don’t know if it is or not, and I think I should explore a bit.
- I finish up with patients here: 4
- I take my last class (forever!) AND turn a year older: 19
- I pack up my home and ship my material life across the US again*: 36
- I can move into my new home in Montana: 55
- I start my internship: 61
- Graduation: 336
In the years leading up to high school graduation I would do this obsessively — count down, and then count back and think about what had happened X days ago, to give it some perspective, I guess. Time seems so much bigger, slower, drawn out when you’re looking forward than when you’re looking back.
I imagine time to be some kind of Calder-esque mobile, past and future events of different weights on each end of a thin steel bar, anchored at today. So: today I am about eight weeks away from my arrival in Montana and beginning my internship. I am also about eight weeks away from my breakup and the loss of my supervisor, mentor, and teacher in April. The former seems far away and light; the latter feels fresh, confusing, barely healing, and heavy. But today is right in the middle.
It is pretty much exactly like this:
Alexander Calder, Boomerangs, 1941
*Decided not to drive, but to spend that driving time and gas money to visit friends in late July / early August… A solo cross-country trip would be fun, but maybe not in a U-Haul.
I love it when I end up on the same bus as the little British sisters and their adorable dad. The older one, maybe seven, reads little French novellas. The little one (5?) has grown an astounding amount in two years. Dad is pragmatic and casual — rides with them to school, probably in Georgetown, then bikes to work.
Today it is raining on the girls inside the bus because of a leak. Much hilarity is ensuing now that they have accepted their fate and stopped whining. The older one convinced the younger to sit in the more-wet seat because she has a raincoat on. She is talking to the younger one about “stuffing you in my backpack so you can come to my exhibition.” And I swoon over this little family.
It does not rain here every day, but I’m finding the bus a nice blogging spot, and I ride it on the rainy days.
A fitting date for the first firefly sighting of the year. This part I will miss.
Is the dirty sock smell me or the interior of this bus?
I think the girl in the seat behind me is a thinly veiled psychopath/office worker. She was just whining that someone took a break (manning a door? Because they’re not supposed to take breaks?), leaving an entire bucket of umbrellas unattended. She “seriously thought about upgrading” from her broken umbrella, but didn’t, even though no one was looking, because she’s a good person. I have my doubts.
I just sneezed and got the most disgusted look from a guy… Who is now mining his nasal orifice and flicking his finds on the ground/wherever they might land. This goes on for several blocks and employs many fingers. It turns out his disgusted look is probably not actually reflective of his inner world, but rather due to a couple of unfortunately placed wrinkles on the bridge of his nose.
My patience for Metrobus is wearing thin.
On a good note, though, we just passed a brass band by the metro station playing a slow, bluesy, lazy-summery piece, which matches the approach I’m taking to this 92-degree + humidity day.