New York and DC

I spent last weekend in Washington D.C. with my parents - a trip comprised of patriotism and history - Americana-style, not nearly enough cherry blossoms to sate my yearly quota, and bookended by two long rides on the Chinatown bus.

While I appreciate a good monument as much as the next person, I have to say, the Newseum was really the highlight for me - albeit a bittersweet one (gosh, how many times have I paired some form of the word 'news' with 'bittersweet' on this blog). Having a museum for news in itself evokes images of an archaic field, but the museum did a nice job of acknowledging the history and importance of traditional newspaper forms and looking toward the future, whatever it might hold. So if anyone has plans to visit DC at any point, this is my plug for how you should spend a good half day.

Although I thoroughly enjoyed DC in all its historic glory, it really revealed how much of a New Yorker I have become. I felt strangely out of place in there: repeatedly commenting to my parents how clean everything was (and somehow this didn't seem like a good thing) and noticing how many people were wearing sweatshirts. Most of all though, I just felt like everything was moving eerily slow. Sometimes the pace of New York can be overwhelming, but it's something that I've come to thrive on. New York Magazine just published a piece talking with various famed New Yorkers about their first experience in the city. They also talked to new arrivals to the city. One person interviewed - Kit Schultz - a recent Ohio transplant, reminded me of my own move here just over a year ago:

In some ways, her story could have been told anytime in the last 50 years, and in other ways, it’s very typical of right now. She lost her job as a nanny late last year and found her prospects were dim. Before Christmas, she went out for drinks with some old college friends who are living in Brooklyn, and they invited her to come out and stay with them. So she packed a van, headed east, and arrived in New York on New Year’s Eve. A new year, a new life, she thought. Now she says, “I am having a great time here, but it’s also very hard. I’ve never been this poor in my life. I don’t exactly know what tomorrow’s stories will be or even how I will pay my cell-phone bill. But I am confident this city will continue to open up for me in ways that I cannot even imagine, and I look forward and forward.”

In January 2008, I was laid off from my job at the Free Lance and, serendipitously, Stephanie announced she needed a subleaser in her Bed-Stuy brownstone. I knew I needed a change from the small town in California where I had lived the past year. But I didn't know if I should do the impulsive thing - move to a giant metropolis with no job prospects, or the fiscally responsible thing - move home to my parents house and work at any number or jobs until I found a 'real' job prospect. That night, post-Chinese food, I opened my fortune cookie to find the message "Heads you do it, tails you go home."

Two weeks later I was on a plane with that fortune safely tucked in my wallet. Sometimes I'm not certain what exactly I'm doing here - but I'm glad the coin landed on heads.