enter the new improved W

I got a roommate yesterday.

I was not excited about her impending arrival. I like having my own space. I like being to turn on the NPR as soon as I wake up in the morning.

But so far, she is fabulous. She's good friends with someone who shares my first and last name. She has the same first and last name as F's aunt W. It all feels karmic.

She was excited when I turned on NPR this morning.

I spent last night with her & her good friend abstaining from the nasty beer. She's snobby about beer like me & was excited to see my chocolate stout in the fridge. We sat in the commonroom while everyone played drinking games just outside. We mocked the drunk people as they stumbled in to find a bathroom or more beer. We shared one of those sprawling happy conversations that I love about books-politics-music-boys-movies-funny stories etc. We devised the package that every girl should recieve on her 13th birthday: Our Bodies, Ourselves; condoms; vibrator; and a copy of Ani's 'Untouchable Face.' We shared "worst breakup stories ever." [The winner: text message: I dont want 2 C U NE more.]

She's working in Hillary Clinton's office starting Monday.

I've been feeling lonely recently, even though I'm always surrounded by people. I feel like I have stumbled upon a possible kindred spirit in this town.
Hooray.

frat party

I hadn't been to a frat party since first semester freshman year. I stopped going because they are all the same & the alcohol is bad & I wasn't a fan of the people who were there or the meat market atmosphere of the place.

Friday and Saturday nights were like terrible flashbacks to that experience. There were parties at my house both friday & saturday nights. One of the housemates is taking off to do a BVS project in the Netherlands. He grew up & went to college nearby so all his high school & college friends poured into my home for a going away party. These friends are all whitehats - preppy frat boys with the obligatory thin, overtanned, skimpily dressed girlcreatures. I haven't seen many of their kind since leaving Tufts. I thought they turned into normal people upon leaving college. I thought wrong.

These were not fun parties where people chat & dance and get comfortably tipsy and act silly. They were parties based around an insipid drinking game (flip cup - it takes less skill than beer pong.) with everyone's sole objective seeming to be to get as drunk as possible on the worst beer imaginable (Natty Light, Miller High Life). Not entertaining-silly drunk, which I enjoy on occassion. Falling-down drunk. Unable-to-form-complete-words (sentences would be aiming too high) drunk. I-almost-stepped-in-curdled-vomit-in-the-bathroom-this-morning drunk.

It's ugly and gross and boring to watch. And it is my life.
I leave the country a month from yesterday.

Beta Upsilon Sigma house

I live in the progressive version of a frat house. It's a DIRTY hippie boy commune. After a week, it is getting hard to take.

The bumper stickers plastered on the walls say things such as "Close the School of the Americas" and "All War is Sin." I suppose that is an improvement over the neon beer lights and commemorative paddles that decorate the walls of more traditional frat houses.

It is all very boy. There are 9 people in the house. Two of us do not have Y chromosomes. These fellows, my housemates, are such stereotypical guys. I do not usually associate with such characters. They are macho. These sit around shotgunning Natty Light -- a beer that I have not had since freshman year of college frat parties -- and watching very boy movies: Kung-Fu Hustle (which I love, so was happy to watch), Sin City, The Basketball Diaries. Monday Night Football is apparently a house event. On Tuesday night, I wandered into the common room to find many of them watching Australian Rules Football (kind of like rugby). None of them are Australian. None of them understood the rules of the game. But it was sports and, therefore, must be watched.

And it is all very filthy. Messy I can handle - I'm not the tidiest myself. But this place is filthy. There is dirt ground into the carpet & the vacuum will not pick it up. There is plaster missing from the walls. Food is regularly left out - an offering for the resident ants, perhaps? People's things are regularly left in common spaces for days.

Only six weeks, I keep telling myself. I only have to live like this for six weeks.

homeless=terrorist

So, here's an article from my new paper, the Washington Post. I have copied the whole thing because I figured no one wanted to bother with the login.

U.S. Says Terrorists May Pose As Vagrants
By MARK SHERMAN

WASHINGTON -- Asking for increased vigilance in the wake of the London bombings, the government is warning that terrorists may pose as vagrants to
conduct surveillance of buildings and mass transit stations to plot future attacks."

In light of the recent bombings in London, it is crucial that police, fire and emergency medical personnel take notice of their surroundings, and be aware of 'vagrants' who seem out of place or unfamiliar," said the message, distributed via e-mail to some federal employees in Washington by the U.S. Attorney's office.

It is based on a State Department report that was issued last week. The State Department had no immediate comment Monday.

The warning is similar to one issued by the FBI before July 4, 2004 that said terrorists may attempt surveillance disguised as homeless people, shoe shiners, street vendors or street sweepers.

The e-mail stresses that there is no threat of an attack and that it is intended to be "informative, not alarming."

This article fascinates me. I am now living and working on Capitol Hill. I work in a soup kitchen, preparing and serving lunch to 60-100 homeless (mostly) men 4 days per week.

They could all be terrorists.

I'm eagerly awaiting the inevitable homeland security commando raid during mealtime next week.

creepy sad library

I am on the internet at the library. If a library could ever be a depressing place, this is it. Tiny, poorly lit, no movies, disorganized. And the catalog says that they have Blankets, but I have not been able to find it on the shelf. It all makes me want to cry. I suppose that is the plight of a big city branch library.

The computers have intense privacy measures around the screens. They have these special computer desks so the monitor is at the level of my knees. There are black plastic screens that blocks the screen from the view of anyone who isn't in my seat or standing directly behind me. Apparently, someone has been taking advantage of the private screen because pornographic pop-ups occur constantly.

I will be checking my e-mail via wireless at the coffeeshop from now on. A $1.50 coffee is a great deal if it means I don't have to watch hot hot girl-on-animal action.

some comfort here

I have had two tremendous sources of comfort in the past two days, both of which stem from M, a housemate, a coworker. In short, I spend 75% of my waking time in the company of this man. So far, we get along really well.

The first: the middle east. We have gone to the Amsterdam Felafel twice in the past two days. They serve only felafel and french fries & have a glorious topping bar: hummus, baba, various salads, pickles, sauces, fried eggplant that you can pile on top of it all. Delicious. They recently stopped having plates because people would take too much topping. So delicious.

Last night, most of the house (excluding the kid who was at my orientation, further proving my point about the lameness of my orienting group) went out for felafel followed by shisha. M had never had any sort of nicotine and thought hookah would be a good way to break his streak of abstinence. The shisha was served in a basement cafe that looked like something straight out of Cairo. I had sahlab, a creamy drink that I have not had since leaving Egypt. There was loud Amr Diab music videos playing, including some of the hit songs from when I was in Egypt. And there was good conversation. I spent some of the night feeling super nostalgic for Egypt, but also profoundly at home. It's bizarre that something so foreign and exotic to everyone else in the group felt like the most familiar night out I have had in weeks.

Yesterday, M and I discovered our mutual adoration of all things This American Life. We have spent much of the time since chatting about the show. Sharing favorite episodes, good stories, and TAL-related memories. I brought my mp3 player with me to work today & we listened to "Peter Pan" and "Drama Bug" as we chopped tomatoes and "Letterman! Cookies!" as we swept and mopped the floor. It was glorious and also equally comforting.

So life is good.

in my element

I am here.
I am in a city.
I live in an old row house on Capitol Hill.
My next 36 hours are mine to do with as I please.
I cooked myself eggplant parmesan last night & can keep the leftovers all to myself.
I live 3 blocks from a metro stop.
There are sidewalks.
I do not have a roommate & have a private sink.
My per diem is $15 - an amount that was supposed to last me 6 days at orientation.
I have gone out for coffee twice today.
I can receive phone calls - not just make them.
The people watching is interesting.
The museums are free.
I get to go to church tomorrow where the people will accept my beliefs.
I do not yet detest any of my housemates.

admission of lameness

After the debauchery party, I spent the last night of orientation with my 3 favorite people there. In addition to us all being catty about everyone who was not in the room, N crafted our 'romantic fantasies' for the coming year. Mine involved meeting a linguists professor while I am buying my Serbian language book in DC and him tutoring me in Serbian before I leave, us maintaining a letter correspondence for a few months & then meeting up when he is at a Slavic languages conference in Split next spring. We then fall in love.

About an hour ago, I was searching Powell's & Amazon for Serbian language learning books, tapes, dictionaries. I have opted not to buy them, but to go to the foreign language bookstore here. I am telling myself that it is because I will get the books so much sooner & will be supporting a local small business & it's near the church I am going to tomorrow, so it's not even a special trip.

. . . but at least part of the reason is because there might just be a linguistics professor that I am fated to meet.

Rated PG-13 for allusions to drug use and sexual situations

My "community responsibility" during orientation was to plan the "celebration" for the final night. My partner in this endeavor was a German 19 year-old whose entire contribution to the effort was: 'We aren't allowed to drink. How can we have a party?'

The previously mentioned N, my roommate, S, and I planned the party. Our budget was $20. We also couldn't figure out how to have a fun party with no alcohol, so we opted for fake sin: The theme of the party was 'sinned off' (like send off, but not quite - I apparently like puns when I make them up, but not when anyone else does). The debauchery included:
pretend alcohol: root beer and virgin jello shots.
gambling: I created a Bingo board, but named it 'Sloth' instead.
karaoke: bad singing must be a sin. (One of my fellow orienters inexplicably had a karaoke machine with her.)
dancing: some Brethren call it a sin.
lust: we played a modified version of 'The Cliff Game.' I cut out pictures of celebrities & placed them in an envelope. Players drew three picture & had to decide which one they would marry, which they would sleep with, & which they would push off a cliff. I was able to marry Barack Obama. Sadly, Johnny Depp was pushed off of a cliff.
cothing: we wore togas, not particularly sinful, but the easiest costume theme I could think of.
gluttony: N led a drinking game (catergories) & the losers had to take a bite of the previously mentioned pies.

I felt like I was pushing an envelope with all of this - would people be offended that I was alluding to "bad things?" & not condemning them.

They were not. People got really into it. And people enjoyed pretending to be drunk off the rootbeer and jello. People wanted to win the lame 'Sloth' prizes and enjoy speculating about how good of a lay certain celebrities would be. Everyone (except for the lame German boys) danced.

One of the most bizarre things I have ever seen: I explained the theme when I gave a staff member the shopping list. He wasn't able to find the candy cigarrettes I requested, so he got me pixie stix instead. He wanted to pour out the sugar and cut it into lines. He did and people snorted fake cocaine.

And in keeping with the not truly coolness, the party was shut down at 10 - the leaders didn't want to wake the people upstairs.

more pie

When we got back to rural MD, there was pie waiting for us. Someone had given the 18 of us in the orientation 17 pies.

There must be something about me that screams, "give me pie!"

I hope it has worn off because after a week of apple/cherry/peach pie at every meal I never want to eat pie again. . .

Baltimore part 3: adventures in chivalry

I spent my last night in Baltimore hanging out in the shelter's card room, learning spades and discovering that I'm fairly respectable at it. My past of card-counting hearts playing helps tremendously. It was a lot of fun to interact with the men. They don't see women often (many of the men in recovery are not allowed to leave the building.) and took great joy in being chivalrous. I was offered lemonade constantly by some, while others checked to make sure I liked the songs on the radio.

At one point in the evening, between card games, one of the men asked me to come out in the hall with him. He handed me a bag full of Little Debbie apples pies. He had spent all day washing cars & spent some of his earnings on the pies. He wanted to thank us for going to the Inner Harbor with him the night before. He said he had a lot of fun & wanted to give us some dessert. It was amazingly kind and I thanked him profusely, even though I think those pies are gross.

Which was all very strange. We asked him the night before if he wanted to go with us to the Inner Harbor because our leaders told us that we would not be able to go if we could not find some residents to go with us. The shelter was not in a good part of town & they didn't want us traipsing off alone after dark.

So he does us a great favor and gives us pie. Overwhelming.

Baltimore part 2: adventures in gaylandia

Every morning in Baltimore, N and I went for a walk. We have gotten in the habit of saving up the ignorant/absurd/painful things others do and sharing them as we stroll about. It feels very cleansing. I've given up hope on most everyone else here.

One morning our daily stroll took us to Baltimore's gay ghetto: rainbow flags on the light poles, leather bars, etc. There were also the most promising-looking coffeehouses that I have seen in quite a while, but that is irrelevant. N is from the south and there are apparently not designated gay neighborhoods in cities there. I was explaining the phenomena, how every city I have lived in has "the gay part of town" when she kicked a box lying in the street.

It was the packaging of a gay porn tape. Priceless.

Baltimore part 1: adventures in addiction

They took us to Baltimore for the weekend, whic was great. I love cities - even unamazing ones. New people and new sights were most welcome.

They had us stay in a men's shelter/recovery house, which was intense. I was much more nervous about people in my group revealing their own ignorance than I was about interacting with the men.

The first night we were there, we spent a few hours listening to those in recovery tell their stories. It was a very AA model, with people almost confessing to us what they have gone through. Some scary things, which I suppose aren't that unusual. And it happend to nice guys, who seemed to have good lives for themselves until everything went all to hell.

They second night, a crowd of us, both BVSers and residents, went to the Inner Harbor, Baltimore's newly developed tourist mecca, basically an open-air mall on the bay. I was chatting with one of the residents on the walk there when he said to me, "tell me stories about your life to distract me. I keep looking down alleys and seeing people I know involved in things I don't want to get back into."

His honesty and his fear broke my heart, but I tried to be amusing.

approaching mordor

There is only a tiny step left between me & Serbia. A final OK (as opposed to all of those earlier OKs) from my soon-to-be supervisor. I have a departure date: September 27. And so, now with everything really coming into place, I have decided to start panicking:

I am reading The Fall of Yugoslavia. The author regularly refers to Serbia as Mordor. It's all very tongue-in-cheek, but still. The prospect of heading off to the land of evil is a bit daunting.

It's apparently very hard to find an apartment in Belgrade. It's all about the social networking. I'm not sure I will be able to do that in Serbian, that I will end up living in a tiny bedroom in the Women in Black office for a long time. One volunteer did for 5 months.

The banking system in Serbia is not yet up to snuff, so I will be given huge piles of Euros every thime I see the woman in charge of BVS Europe. Carrying around 3 months worth of money is a bit scary.


And there is some excitement. I know that on October 3rd, I will be taking an overnight train from Geneva to Belgrade. Typing those words sounds so exotic and amazing, like the life that I want to be leading.
I can't wait.

trapped in christiandom

So back at the parents' house, I became a big fan of 30 Days. I even said I would like to be on the show. I realized now that I am, minus the film crew. I am 30 Days: a secular west coast liberal goes to Christian summer camp. It is scary.

A moment:

Sitting around with some girls, praising Jon Stewart.
M [one of the most Brethren of the girls here]: I want to marry Jon Stewart, except that he's Jewish.
Me: So, is Judiasm a deal breaker for you?
M: of course.

So so strange. When I mentioned it to my parents, they were very very puzzled. My dad told me of how he hung out with Jewish & Muslim & Christian kids and they all dated each other in the mid-60s. He was baffled that people still aren't up for some cross-religion dating.

I think all of the Brethren inbreeding (it is a small religion & they obviously don't wanting people dating outside The Chosen Faith), has made all of the kids socially inept and stange looking. Seriously. These kids don't know how to hold a normal conversation. It pains me.

There is some solace: N. She is fabulous. We go for long walks every night and complain about everyone else here, all the tiny ignorances and outrages. Not healthy, but neccessary. Two nights ago, we spent the evening sharing our boydramas. She has amazing ones - I haven't laughed so hard in weeks.