Location, Location, Location!

I have been looking for a studio for months- passively looking for about three, aggressively for about two. It is an exhausting, miserable process and I absolutely hate it. I have become a woman obsessed- every spare moment is dedicated to Operation: Adorable Studio.

I’m about one property away from aborting the mission.

I’m learning the trade-offs of renting in D.C. For instance, Apartment A is an English basement, beautiful one-bedroom with exposed brick, but the neighborhood is dodgy. Apartment B is a teeny tiny studio but in a great location. As far as neighborhoods go, the Hill isn’t a bad option- there is decent street parking, it’s a little more affordable, and I love Eastern Market- but it seems like everything is on the west side of the city- my work, my friends, my regular hangouts. Northwest is of course nearly impossible to find an affordable studio unless you go reeeeally far north or reeeeally far west -- or hit a goldmine.

This week I went to look at a studio with my friend and potentially struck gold. It’s about a 15 minute walk from work and in a great area- right by U Street and Adams Morgan where there is a lot of food, booze, and culture (i.e. FUN). It’s in a nice building, very safe area, but is teeny and there is no getting around the whole bed-is-in-the-living-room business. However, the location and the price are PERFECT and though it is far from my “dream apartment”, with some creative decorating it could be a damn good “first apartment.” Within moments I convinced myself that this apartment is the key to my happiness in DC and without it I will in fact be miserable.

Of course finding the apartment is only half the battle- you have to apply. This apartment had a line at the door a half hour before the viewing; t’was reminiscent of my Dublin days when hours were spent waiting to simply see the apartment. I faxed my application first thing in the morning and after a $30 cab ride to the leasing office found out that some scoundrel had already beaten me in: I was Applicant #2. So I tried to sweet talk the realtor and flashed my best smile in hopes that I would move to the top of the pile. Otherwise I just have to hope with all my might that Applicant #1 has craptacular credit.

So now I wait while a guy named Tim in a leasing office on Rhode Island Avenue determines my fate and hope with all my might that this tiny little gem comes through. Nothing but crossed fingers and positive thoughts…

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease let me get this apartment!!!!!!!

Capitol Hell

“I don’t want to work on the Hill.”
“But you would love it!” my political friend always exclaims when I utter such slander.
I firmly shake my head. “I don’t do bureaucracy.”
For years I have known I wanted to go into international advocacy. Its the Mount Everest of political careers- there may be many paths to the top, but some of them will kill you. Quite literally. Regardless, there are two common themes to the climb: field experience (so you know what you're talking about) and Hill experience (so you know who you're talking to). The Hill makes me think of tedious work, little pay, and power-hungry creeps lurking the hallways into the wee hours of the morning in hopes of a promotion. Of course there are a select group of good-hearted souls that believe in what they are doing and who they are working for. I'm fortunate enough to know a few of these rare creatures, but I fear they are greatly outnumbered by their slimy counterparts. I encountered one such slime ball a few weeks ago.
We met a few months ago when I was lobbying his Senator for full funding of the international affairs budget (which I got- point 1 for moi). He seemed like a very nice person and expressed an interest in my work. After a few discussions over coffee, I had no doubt in my mind that this guy was a legitimately nice person. It started out as many networking meetings do- drinks at the Union Pub with all the suits. We were discussion a job opening when the tone of the conversation suddenly changed. He made a strange but vague comment ("You're new here- I have to show you how it works in this town") which I quickly tried to dismiss as A. not as terrible as it sounded or B. a very bad joke. But then there was a deliberately inappropriate invasion of my personal space, misplaced hands, and another sleazy comment ("If I'm going to help you, you're going to have to pay the consequences") and there was no doubt what I was dealing with. I abruptly picked up my bag and walked out, regretting moments later that I didn't punch this guy in the face. My shock quickly turned to anger- HOW DARE HE?! I felt naive and stupid and violated. It was gross. So gross.
Of course I realize this creep isn't necessarily representative of the whole, but it does say something about one aspect of the culture. The Hill is a WASPy men's club, fraught with corruption and people with an overinflated sense of self-importance. They are drunk on power- literally and figuratively- and at the moment I'd rather die than be apart of it. Its a conflict for me that begs the question- are we more effective flatly rejecting the system we don't like by fighting from the outside or fighting from within, even if it means compromise? I've always said I wanted to scare the hell out of Congress, not work for Congress. I prefer the burden of truth to the burden of a fickle electorate.
Its hard to know the best way to be the change, the best way to make a difference. For me the jury's still out.

Any time I am really feeling down on DC I go for a nice long run by the White House. I have always found the White House to be an endless source of inspiration. I decided the first time I pressed by little face up against the iron bars that I was going to be here in Washington. That I needed to be here. Last night when I gleefully ran by 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue it was no different. Goosebumps and pure happiness. For me, the White House and all of the other great recognizable monuments don’t represent power or corruption (as my cynical colleagues would say), they represent change. Washington is transient, nothing ever stays the same here. It’s one of the most exciting, peculiar cities in the world. There are always new people, new policies, a new Congress, a new President. It is a city defined less by what stays the same and more by what doesn’t. It’s so very…American. I love it. I love it because I want to be the change. I want to be the energy that drives new policies and the force that shapes new leaders. It’s ambitious and idealistic, but I am ambitious and idealistic, and it’s just another reason why I fit in here. Washington is a city full of people that either want to own the world or shape it. But I don’t just want to shape the world, I will… even if it takes a jog by a big White House to be reminded why.