6 posts tagged “d.c.”
Today, I took the first positive step toward building myself an amazing personal history. I enrolled in and paid for my first class at University of Maryland University College (UMUC), and I have the book for my course already on the way. I'm just starting small, due to the fear of repeating previous mistakes with being overwhelmed by too much coursework. I am taking a course I have great personal interest in, Sociology (SOCY) 100. I am excited. At first, I had planned to only take online courses, but when I called today, the online version was full up, and the physical course every Monday was open. I decided 'why not' and enrolled, because it's probably a smarter option for me to get started with a course where I am among other adult students.
How perfect is this, too - The Metrorail stop for the college is one stop before my usual stop where I park each and every day, which means I can get there, attend and then go straight home without any back and forth distance and transportation woes. This is what truly makes me believe there is a higher hand at work in my life. I may not call it God like some people, but I acknowledge that it is present in my life. Whatever is going on -- the stars are definitely aligning in my favor lately, as if the opportunity was waiting for me all along to get my head on straight regarding getting my B.A. in Communications.
I also believe there is a reason I ended up taking the non-virtual version. Either I will find people with common issues and interests, a professor who challenges me in a way that is right for my path, or in the long run, it will help cement me in my efforts to reach my educational goals. In the past few months I've really begun to learn and support the philosophy that no one can succeed in isolation. Although I'd heard the premise of this before - i.e. "No man is an island" - this is a statement I heard in a webinar given by the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA) the other day. I really do think it holds true for everything, from the individual to large corporations.
I was at the U Street Metrorail station in Washington D.C. around 11:50 p.m. last night, when two Metrorail employees at two separate times came up to me and tried to tell me I'd missed my train back to Greenbelt on the Green Line. I knew I had not, because I had looked more than once as I exited the station area earlier that evening at the sign above the Metrorail booth that clearly stated the last train back to Greenbelt leaves at 12:21 a.m. It's sad that I had to point to the sign to argue my point with those guys over something they are paid to know. It makes me glad I'm an informed passenger. That could have been fun had they been talking to some poor schmuck just visiting who didn't know his or her way. The Metro employees would have ultimately steered somebody wrong, because they didn't care enough to be aware of the facts of their jobs.
I can understand an honest mistake, but when you occupy your work station for hours, and the info you need to know is plainly stated directly above your head, there is no excuse. I was slightly peeved by this. It's not like it's rocket science.
I had been coming back from the Blue October concert at the 930 Club mentioned in my previous entry, which is closest to the U Street station for the Metro (Yellow and Green Lines), and I had already mapped out everything in my head timewise, so at least I was safe from being steered horribly wrong by those guys, because a taxicab ride to Greenbelt from Washington DC... well, it ain't cheap.
I took a cab ride once from Falls Church, Virginia, back to Greenbelt, and it ended up costing me over 70 bucks! I never carry cash, so part of the trip home had me stopping at the ATM to gather some funds to pay for the transportation.
I went to the 930 Club in Washington DC last night to see Blue October. I had booked the ticket a month back and thought 'what the hey' since I kind of liked a couple of their songs from radio play and the tickets were only $20 apiece. It's not like I had followed this band's progress and knew a lot about them like some of their hardcore fans. But, having only lived in D.C. for about three months, I wanted to check out this small venue that draws many well known acts.
I was drawn to the band not just for their sound but for their catchy lyrics since I am a lover of words and the ways they can be artfully used. As far as I know, the lead singer of the band, Justin Furstenfeld, writes all of his own stuff. He really has the heart of an intense poet and a rocker combined in one. For example, this excerpt from "Hate Me"'s lyrics:
"I have to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I’m alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home"
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I’m alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home"
It turned out this band was even better than I expected in concert. I think that Justin is phenomenal (click on the link above to see those eyes of his), with his wide range of vocal talent, powerful voice belting out in heavy metal fervor one moment and sensitive, slow and heartfelt the next, seemingly unafraid to be emotional in his performances. He has this eclectic style about him in his on-stage presence that really makes him stand out, and he seemed genuinely grateful to his fans for their support. He didn't jump around on the stage as easily as the lanky lead singer of the opening act Army of Me last night, but he used arm movements, eye contact and these kind of jerking motions with his head to perform on stage that were really intriguing. An interesting character, Justin. He wore a trench coat with a scarf wrapped around his neck, kind of in contrast to the other guys in his band who wore tee shirts and jeans. But I think his act, his look - they work well for him. He seemed to sink into and merge with his music, the seriousness intensely visible on his forehead as he either crooned or blasted emotional lyrics upon the audience, depending on the song of the moment. I felt I was in the presence of a star that will continue to shine. Now and then, he ducked down to touch an audience member's hand or make an odd face for the one of many digital cameras held up to capture his presence.
Blue October doesn't sound like a copy of every other group out there, and I am so excited about that. One of the musicians, Ryan Delahoussaye, wearing shades beneath the streaming neon lights, played what appeared to be an electric violin, and I thought it a unique addition to the normally anticipated guitar and drum sounds. It really added something to their sound. You could not listen to Blue October and not feel anything deep down, I don't think. It's not just superficial noise.
There definitely were some dedicated fans there. The place had sold out long before last night's performance, and people beside and around me were singing every word along with Justin verbatim to many of their favorite songs. I almost felt sad that I missed out on them when they came on the scene years before. As hip as I usually am to music, I am surprised I missed it.
Although I was standing there in my sock feet (yes, believe it or not) on the balcony barely able to stand without pain -- the result of having made the idiotic choice to wear high-heeled boots to work all day and having no second pair to change into for comfort -- while holding an empty Stella Artois bottle for four hours, which I could not rid myself of because of the mass of other concertgoers crowding in behind me -- and although I had been dragging myself around from exhaustion this whole week, I stayed until the end of the show, which was sometime around 11:30 or later. I did not want to miss a song. They finished up to resounding rounds of applause with their well known song "Hate Me." I had just enough time to catch the last train from U Street Metrorail station back to Greenbelt, Maryland, and I was tired but didn't regret my decision to see the show. I will definitely see them again, when the opportunity arises.
I was surprised to hear they'd toured with Concrete Blonde back in the '90s, because I thought Blue October was a brand new band. I think I was drawn to them, because their music has the slight tinge of an influence from Robert Smith's band, The Cure. I could be wrong, but that's what I immediately noticed in some of their songs. So, yeah, now I'm showing my age -- I really came of age, musically, during the time of The Cure, Concrete Blonde, KLF, Jesus Jones, The Divinyls and such.
There was a mix of concertgoers there last night -- from the younger crowd to people like a lady to my right, who looked to be in her '50s, sporting a trendy cap and rocking out the entire time, with more energy than I had, until the very last song. I applaud people like that and hope I am never too old to enjoy a concert, to let music stir my soul and rock out -- because when I am, then I am that much closer to death, in my opinion. But that's another story for another day.
Sometimes I enjoy the lively ads that pop up on the Metrorail and catch my attention here and there, like this morning when I spied a Mitchum men's deodorant ad on the Yellow Line train to Huntington Station. It went something like: "If you give up your seat to a pregnant woman, you're a Mitchum man; If you're careful who you assume is pregnant, you're a Sensitive Mitchum man." It was catchy and cute in helping to cement the name of the advertiser in the viewer's mind, but it also made my mind turn to the topic of courtesy on the Washington D.C. public transit system.
You might not think there's such a thing. But I'm happy to say that even in such a densely populated area as Washington D.C., with the morning rush in full swing, and swiftly moving lines of commuters filing through, I have personally observed gentlemen among us. As a healthy women in her 30's, I don't always feel right accepting a man's offer to take his seat. Although I would certainly not class myself as a "feminazi," I just don't feel that someone else should inconvenience himself for an outdated chivalrous notion that I don't personally need. It's nothing to do with me not espousing these wonderful, old-fashioned romantic notions for any reason of gender. I guess I just have a difficult time accepting help, and I know there are others who deserve it more. But when I witness a man offering up his seat to the elderly or handicapped, it gives me pause and renewed faith in my fellow inhabitants of the Universe, men or women -- in seeing that there are still those who take the time to think of the welfare of others.
To you who would do that, I say, "Bravo," and thank you for the little things you do that help to keep the spirit of love for your fellow human still alive and well in this often very hectic, violent world.
As a Buddhist, I believe that each and every action we take contributes to the whole. Whether it seems like much or not, that one act of kindness you choose to bestow could be the one thing that gets another person's day off to a better start. This is definitely something to think about the next time you find yourself riding Metrorail or any other public transit system. Look around. We citizens of this world are all on this global train together, and it never hurts to extend a thoughtful deed to one another. You never know what impact it will have, or how the favor may one day be returned.
I am glad I learned the easy way that you cannot share your SmartTrip card, or for that matter, any farecard purchased for use on the Washington D.C. Metro system, with another person. I was with a friend the other night, headed to Dupont Circle, who didn't usually use the Metro. I figured we'd just use my card so as to save time and money. It seemed perfectly logical to me, only having been a two-month resident in the D.C. area, my first ever experience with living in a congested urban area using public transit on a regular basis. But my friend seemed to think otherwise, so just to allay our confusion, I checked with a Metro employee. The stern looking black lady looked at me as if I was on crack and immediately replied, "Everyone must have his or her own fare."
Silly me. I would honestly not have known, and someone probably would have started yelling at me when I attempted, or maybe the system wouldn't even have let my friend through anyway, saving me the embarrassment of that - not sure, but glad I don't have to find that out the hard way. I was just going to use my card to get through the turnstile and then hand it over to my friend and thought nothing of it.
It was a gray, drizzly day in D.C. that began with a mood to match.
This morning, even after sleeping for almost seven hours, I was so exhausted that I slept through my alarm, somehow waking up just in time to make a 15-minute go of pulling myself together enough to be presentable for work. I was in a panic and truly didn't expect to make it to work by 8, but I was ready and out the door in less than 20 minutes and to the metro in 10 more. It's amazing what you can accomplish when time is screaming in your ear, "You're going to be late!"
I asked a serene looking middle-aged black businessman what time it was and he asked me if I was okay. I must have looked pretty flushed and frazzled after beating feet from the metro parking area, through the turnstile and up the escalator. "Thanks," I replied, "I'll be fine." I swigged down one of those Odwalla berry smoothies as I waited.
About five minutes later, the metro Green Line train slid into view like a most welcome sight and I was on my way. I'd never boarded this late before, so I really didn't have any assuredness that I was going to get to work on time until I noted that it was only ten til the hour as I disembarked from my train at my final stop. I was never so thankful, even if I did have to abandon the thought of waiting in line for that daily morning latte fix and suffer the grumblings of my still empty stomach.
It had meant throwing a tube of toothpaste, toothbrush, cosmetics and such into my oversized Franklin Covey tote and running as if someone were hot on the heels of my black Esprit mid-calf boots, but I made it.
And I now l can eagerly go on to seek another new day in America's Capital.
