It's time to move on

I love Washington, DC. I love its wonkiness, its history and the fact that, for two weeks every spring, it's completely covered in cherry blossoms. I love that everyone here is concerned about the state of the world, and that you're more likely to hear people talking politics than sports on the Metro. I love that that's true even when the people in question are wearing Caps jerseys or D.C. United scarves and are heading to or coming from a game. I love that it's a completely different city in the summer than it is the rest of the year, and that significant amounts of snow are rare enough that the entire population turns into a bunch of five-year-olds and runs out to make snow angels and throw snowballs when there are more than a couple of inches on the ground.

I love this city, but it's time for me to leave.

I initially sat down to write this post in March, when some (probably Metro-related) city hiccup had me frustrated. At that point, the above sentence read "I love this city. But if I don't get out of here soon, I'm going to lose my mind." For months, I had been becoming increasingly annoyed by Washington's inefficiencies, its tunnel vision, its suit-and-tie culture. I took it as a personal affront every time someone stepped into my path, sped around a corner as I was stepping into a crosswalk or sauntered rather than speed-walked down an escalator in front of me. Instead of my usual smile at obvious first-time visitors (well, the non-obnoxious ones), I gritted my teeth and walked past as quickly as I could. I was frustrated, edgy and suddenly obsessive about my personal space.

It's true that the Metro has been hitting more rough spots in service more frequently throughout the past year, which leads to jammed platforms, trains that bear more of a resemblance than usual to sardine cans and irritable commuters. And tourist season started in March, which always adds to city inefficiency.

It's also true that, after almost seven years inside the Beltway, the fact that I am definitely not your typical Washington personality is probably catching up with me. If I'm meeting new people, I want what's happening on the Hill or in the Supreme Court to be part of the conversation, but I also want to talk about what the EU is up to, what's going on in the Sudan, favorite hiking trails, great trips taken or planned and future goals that have nothing to do with running for office. I haven't worn a suit since my first interview for my current job almost three years ago, and that's perfectly fine with me. I sometimes dread the very thought of networking (which, in Washington, is akin to blasphemy).

My revelation that maybe I was just tired of Washington and ready to be somewhere else didn't surprise my friends at all, which came as a surprise to me. "You're a total granola type," they told me, "of course you were going to get sick of politico-mania at some point!" Me, granola? Since when? True, I like to buy local, don't own a car, am into outdoorsy stuff and non-profit work and think Seattle is one of the best cities on earth, but the "buy organic" movement generally annoys me and I haven't worn a peasant blouse since my freshman year of college. And the car thing is largely because, 90% of the time, it's more convenient in Washington to not own one.

I'm still not entirely convinced that "granola" is an accurate descriptor of my personality, but the more I thought about it, the clearer it became that inside the Beltway was no longer the best place for me to be. I'd hoped for some time that I'd be leaving in 2010 or early 2011 to pursue a graduate degree, but last fall even that began to seem too far away.

Fortunately, a solution presented itself, as they usually seem to do, which is why I'm now writing this blog from the Middle of Nowhere, AZ. The lease on my Arlington apartment came up for renewal this month and when I asked this winter about the possibility of renting month-to-month or signing a lease of less than a year, I was told both were impossible. The idea of finding a short-term lease and moving in May, then wrangling all of my stuff into storage at my parents' house in December or January before transplanting to Australia for two years was less than appealing. I talked to my parents and my boss and decided that moving to my parents' house in May and teleworking for the rest of the year was doable.

So here I am in my new home office in the Arizona mountains, with Nala curled up at my feet. I saw a herd of deer, a couple of jackrabbits and a few very arrogant-looking ravens on this morning's run and am listening to the wind whip through the pine trees outside as I take my lunch break (which is actually almost the end of my workday, since I'm keeping East Coast office hours). My mom worries that I'll go crazy inside of a month with no friends my age in the area and the nearest movie theater and grocery store 30 miles away, but I'm thrilled to have what feels a lot like time out of time to spend with my parents, focus on the aspects of my work that I love, read, write and relax before heading off on a new adventure.

I spent my last month in Washington doing typically Washington things: having brunch or dinner with friends, going to happy hour, browsing Eastern Market, attending performances at the Kennedy Center and the Washington National Opera, visiting quirky landmarks like the Mansion on O Street, wandering Dupont Circle, the monuments and the Mall. I didn't sleep much, and set my usual monthly budget aside so I could make the most of my last weeks in the city that had become my home.

As I spent my evenings packing boxes and my days rediscovering my favorite spots in the city, something began to change. I was smiling at tourists again, stopping to offer assistance if someone looked especially lost. When my morning train stopped in a tunnel for the third time, I shrugged and turned another page of my book. Rather than rush in and out, I spent ten minutes talking to the man working in The Guitar Shop when I took my guitar in to be re-strung, and he made my day when he called the same afternoon to say it was ready just because "Well, I liked you."

I arrived in Arizona last Thursday, exhausted but happy. And, unexpectedly, knowing that I'm going to miss Washington like crazy this summer: jazz in the Sculpture Garden, lazy evenings on sunny patios, even the swampy mugginess of my morning runs. Watching the Capitol Building drift by for the last time from a Super Shuttle window was bittersweet, which turned out to be better than being thrilled to leave it behind. It was absolutely time for me to leave Washington, but in preparing to leave I was able remember why I fell in love with it in the first place.

Food for Thought

Since my mind is bouncing around like a ping-pong ball today, it's the perfect time for a quick "Food for Thought" update:

• To get vaccinated, or not to get vaccinated? The CDC recommends that everyone ages six months through 24 years get an H1N1 vaccination, even though people in the 19-24 range are usually pretty safe from any dangerous health complications from the flu. I've never gotten a flu shot and have only had the flu twice that I can remember, with more than 10 years between bouts. I'm still not entirely convinced I need one, since I'm healthy and will be out of that age group in five months anyway. What do you think, are you getting a swine flu vaccine?
  
• Remember my quarrel with Metro? Things haven't gotten much better, but a friend of mine over at Eco-City Alexandria was inspired to air his grievances as well after reading my letter, and wrote a wittier, more comprehensive complaint.
• I've refrained from copious TIME references for the last couple of weeks, so I'm going to subject you to my love of the magazine again. Just so you don't forget it's out there! The September 21st edition has some great stuff about sustainability and the rise of responsible consumerism, and one of my favorite articles was their spotlight on "Responsibility Pioneers." From an Australian town installing water fountains and banning bottled water to inexpensive stoves that burn straw instead of coal in rural China, people the world over are embracing both the environment and their fellow man.
• Also in TIME - did you know that spending time with humans has led dogs to develop social intelligence? That's why they know what object you mean when you say "Where's your ball, Spot?" and are the only animal that can follow your pointing finger. (This explains why Nala ends up looking at me like I'm crazy when I try to point to something...)
• My friend Lars' animated short is still battling for first place in FOX's Aniboom competition. "CLASS: The Valentine's Day Special" is currently in 11th place (and has been as high as 2nd!) - if you haven't watched it yet, check it out before the contest closes on Wednesday.
  

Can this relationship last?

Dear Metro,

We need to talk. Our relationship is in serious trouble, and I fear we may never make it back to those happy, carefree days of our first year together, filled with joy rides to IHOP and the mall.

I've been one of your staunchest supporters for six years, Metro. I've defended your broken escalators, your random breakdowns, your rush hour delays. I've explained your mysteries to countless tourists and respected the whims of your temperamental doors. I've vowed to anyone who will listen that a life with you is a life that doesn't need a permanent car on the side, because you make sure I get everywhere I need to go.

I've demonstrated my commitment to you in hundreds of ways, from buying a SmarTrip after a year to prove I was serious about you to visiting you twice a day, five days a week, virtually without fail in the last two years. I rarely complain about the lack of a seat in the morning and I never use the countless other people in your life against you. Even though they sometimes drive me crazy, I know there's enough of you to go around.

This year, though, you've been treating me shabbily and I don't know how much more I can take. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. You and Washington's cost of living have plotted together to ensure that I can't. And the environmentalist in me doesn't want to buy a car unless there's absolutely no other option.

But you've been wreaking havoc with my schedule all summer. You've made me late to work with trains ten minutes apart during rush hour rather than the usual five (max!). You imposed your own schedule on my happy hour plans every Sunday through Thursday in August, demanding that I either get on a train by 10pm or fight my way through a delayed system to the yellow line, taking more than an hour to get home.

The first glimpse of trouble was way back in February, when you shut down every blue and yellow line station in Virginia from Friday night until Tuesday morning during President's Day weekend, despite my pleas to let me visit my friends on Valentine's Day. And now you're doing it again. I was looking forward to a relaxing Labor Day weekend with friends, maybe some shopping in Georgetown, a quick jaunt to Dupont Circle...until yesterday, when you told me you were closing three stations for the weekend, including mine. You're even closing the National Airport station. During one of the busiest tourist weekends of the year. Metro, this is serious! What is going on?

I know you're older than I am and don't have the energy you used to. I know sometimes you feel like you need a break and some time to yourself, but I depend on you, Metro, and there's no one who can take your place in my life.

Something's gotta give, Metro. Please, help me save our relationship - I don't want us to end up hating one another. I'll try harder if you will.

With love,
Jessalyn
xoxo