Oh how the hours go by

What Angers Me In Life:
1. Comcast
2. The DMV

In total, I have wasted 8 hours of my life dealing with Comcast and 7.5 hours of my life at the Virginia DMV. Never again will I see those hours. They aren't refunded to me at the end of my lifetime, like taxes during the Bush administration. That's 895 minutes vanished, poof, like Keyser Soze.

But I shall not dwell on the shallow, insignificant things in life like the crooks at Comcast or the Slowskys at the DMV. After all, I'm living the fabulous life of a business school student. So far, I've spent 4.5 hours in a classroom and about 6 hours in a bar with my fellow students. I think that's a pretty good balance. Thank goodness I have a 15 minute walk to the train station or those empty beer calories are gonna go straight to the squishy places that I so desperately try to disguise with clever clothing, accessories and mental pictures of me at the gym.

Although there are more stories to be told, my Stephanie Plum book is calling to me. Plus, I spent all morning traipsing through the District with my study group on a scavenger hunt, trying to ascertain the official song of DC and its author. Of the many strangers we consulted, three of them told us it was, All Hail the Redskins. What a town.

* * * * * *
Correction: I got the song title wrong. It's actually Hail to the Redskins. Thanks, Marg. Too bad about that 41-0 lovefest with the Pats over the weekend.

Watch out Washington!

Welcome to Capitol Hill! In just two weeks in DC, I befriended a Hill staffer, who hooked me up with a tour of the Capitol yesterday and set me up on an upcoming White House tour. Nice. I met her at a BBQ, through a girl that I met in Boston at a going-away party, who was also moving to the DC area. The world works in crazy ways, eh?






There are only two statues of Honest Abe depicted without his beard. And both of them are in this building. He looks kinda sleepy in this one, doesn't he?

Did you also know that every state is allowed to have two statues displayed in the Capitol? The only requirement is that the statues must be made out of bronze or marble.












I had to ask the security guards on the roof to let me take these next two pictures.

After the tour, I thought it would be so fun to walk the length of the mall, take in some of the monuments and pass by the museums. I was mistaken. It took me 45 minutes in the afternoon heat to make it from the Capitol building to the GW campus.

My recommendation: don't do it. Ever.

525,600

Can a girl actually be this blessed? Okay okay, I know that my last blog was a downer, a stressed-out-suicide-inducing rant, but thankfully that Almighty guy in the sky keeps life interesting. Last night, I threw myself a farewell party to celebrate the years I’ve spent in Boston, the friends I’ve had the privilege of knowing, and new beginnings. [side note: somehow my cake only managed to eke out “Congratulation,” so perhaps I should only be happy about one thing. But whatever, I’m too thrilled to pay attention to that]

As I was saying, last night was a celebration and my beautiful friends made quite a turnout, even though I asked them to come all the way down to the little neighborhood of JP. I looked around the room and just couldn’t believe the caliber of people that surrounded me. I mean, yes, they really are (physically) beautiful people, but more importantly, they are REAL people. They all got shit to deal with but they deal with it because that’s how life goes. Plus, they are just the right mix of fun, funny and outright bizarre to reflect the time I've spent in Boston. Jocelyn met Meghan, who as a child was in the Girl Scout troop run by Jocelyn's mother. The two Mexicans were talking to the Frenchman in Spanish. My cake only gave me one "congratulation." An Australian convinced me that Philly is a place worth visiting (who knew?) And somewhere in the evening, an intense conversation on human rights law cropped up.

So many different spheres of my life intersected last night, people who might be in my life for a season, others for a lifetime, still others who might pop up periodically like a Viagra addict. But they were all there at The Alchemist Lounge last night – a sign, perhaps, that even a person as messed up, fallen, selfish, and dull as I am can have a life transformed into something precious and valuable by forces larger than I discern.

Although this may speak more to my wildly emotional personality than anything else, in just a matter of days, I moved from lonely, anxious and broken-hearted to relaxed, beloved and excited about the way life unfolds.

Ahhh, measure a life in love, friends. Measure in love.

A whole lotta nuthin'

Last Friday, I tried to call the Financial Aid office at MBA school because they sent me a tuition bill that didn't list the scholarships I received from the business school. Unfortunately for me, I was calling at 4pm on a Friday in August.

Okay, I fully understand that people don't like working on Friday afternoons. But if your office hours are posted , 9am - 5pm Monday - Friday, you should WORK those hours. If no one is working past 4pm on Friday, then just close the office and don't let people think you're actually working. I was on hold for 20 minutes and still no one picked up. I don't get it. I only got paid for 40 hours a week and freakin' Big Bad Red made me work until 8pm on Fridays sometime. And during the summer, we had to rotate the "Summer Hours Schedule" so that one person from your department was present until 5pm. Just as a side note, since I left Big Bad Red, one other person has resigned and word has it that others are leaving soon too. I love being a trailblazer. Heh.

So, I called Financial Aid back at 10am on Monday. I was on hold for more than 60 freakin' minutes, listening to the jazz station on speakerphone. And whaddaya know, when someone finally answered the phone, the person I needed to speak to wasn't in the office. Damn.

Meanwhile, the stresses of moving to another state are mounting. The post office, again, has screwed up my forwarding mail stuff; my landlord won't let me bring my cat and I have to find her a new home or bring her to a shelter; I can't find buyers for all my excess household stuff; I still have to pack; I have no male assistance to load up the moving truck on Friday; and my love life is still in the crapper.

At least the interns are having a potluck lunch tomorrow.

The silent majority

From The Dispatch in Columbus, Ohio:

"We think the Gospel has political implications, but it's not partisan. And we don't think that either the Republicans or the Democrats have the sole possession of the implications of the Gospel." -- Rich Nathan, senior pastor of the Columbus Vineyard

Amen.

Donate a lung

I love the Internet. Mostly because I can find crazy stories about games that involve dead fish, check up on celebrity sightings in NYC, and sell my extra stuff before I move to Washington.

But as I was merrily posting up my unwanted junk for people to whom my junk is a too-good-to-be-true bargain, I noticed a somewhat sobering Craigslist wanted ad that caught my eye. No, it wasn't a tourist asking for Red Sox tickets, a Boston newbie seeking a normal roommate, nor was it even an overfed lonely married man looking for a beauteous Spanish woman to make him quiver.

It was a mother wanting to save her son's life. Read on, friends. I have no idea if this is some sort of sick scam or a desperate mother pleading with the Cyberworld community. But if you have an AB blood type and 5 working lung lobes, you might want to check it out.