Hasta La Raiz, 2k23

 Well, well, well...

Much like a Spotify Wrapped, the end of the year comes unknowingly, in a burst, and leaves very little room for preparation. Aside from the fact that you know that it's coming, but unaware of the actual day, or time.

Where can one start? The war in Ukraine is still going on, the war in Gaza is still going on, and plenty of other wars that we don't and probably won't hear about in the news are still going on. Sudan, the Congo, Yemen, Syria, the lot. The United Nations struggles to come to an accord on how to actually put an end to any of these longstanding conflicts, aside from from throwing lots of money towards initiatives that work, until they don't. It sucks that we wake up everyday reading WaPo, NYT, FT, Forbes, whatever, seeing headlines about how fucked up the world is. Boring take, yes. It rings true, though. As of late, I've definitely noticed that I've not been interested in digging deep into news articles as much as I would have in the past. Learning that you can OD on news? News to me. Pun intended. 

Anyways, let's get to the real year in review. Moved from New York to DC. I don't regret it, most days at least. There are plenty of things that I miss that I wish I could've just stuck in my pocket and brought with me. My problem is that I've earnestly tried to make my experience in The District the same as it was up north. That's just not possible. And it's taken me months to realize that. All for the better, albeit a little bit later than I expected. My job here is a job. Nothing special or anything to brag about, just like any other job that I've had. What I will say though, is that it's been good for my professional development. But who cares about that shit in their late 20's anyway? 

There are some choice things to appreciate about this city. The museums are free, which is also super corny, but it is nice being able to go to the Renwick on your lunch break. My local breakfast spot is dirt cheap. The metro is clean. People, sometimes, smile at you when you are running on the trail. It's like one huge town of almost 700,000 people.

But, speaking of people, the lot of them suck. Brown nosers are everywhere. The ladder climbers. The Hill Bros. It's unspeakably annoying being surrounded by suits all of the time. I've also gotten the most amount of parking tickets in my life being here for what, 7 months? Parking police here walk with their dicks hanging out. They're seriously the worst. 

Then there's the inequality, the tent towns, overpriced brunches, plenty of other shit to complain about it. All in all, this place is, for a lack of better words, interesting.

New York will always be a quintessential place to be. I'd be lying if I wasn't trying to make my way back their one day, but we'll see how the cards play out.

I went back to Montreal, learned some french, drank lots of beer, walked from one side of the city to the other, and really experienced the Joie de Vivre. 

I got kicked out of El Bar in Philly for speaking spanish, went to see Le Tigre in Baltimore, made plenty of trips to Richmond, moved into my first apartment dolo in DC. It's been a year, to say the least. 

I've laughed, cried, broken multiple skateboards, popped open plenty of bevs, taken tons of photos, sat on the Amtrak at 2 am going down the grease coast, spent the most time I have with my family in over 3 years, went to therapy (bc it's free at my job, don't trip), and, most importantly, have found solace in myself. 

There's not really much meat in this post. It's more, like, a rant of the squiggles that roll around my brain. 

To end, I've learned a lot about myself and those around me in the last year. The good, the bad. I find respite in knowing that even with the grandiose amount of change from this year, it's still been a good one. Change is quite uncomfortable, I can't lie. But, it teaches you *insert any cliche lesson here*.

Here's to 2024 and whatever it brings. I pray to God that I don't see any of you at Helen's on New Years. 

The Art of the Interview / Shutdown Shit

 As we all get older, we start to wonder "is this how interviews were supposed to be?"

I mean, I remember my first job after VCU only being one interview, and then starting work in no more than 2-3 weeks.

Every on I've had after that? One interview with the office heads, then one with their director. Then you wait for a response for a few weeks. Then you get offered the job. A process that often can take 1-2 months, depending on when you hear back from the initial job announcement. 

Is this what we signed up for? This reminds me of that one video that the dude from Blue's Clues made about why he left the show. No, it's not bc he went to jail, even though we all thought he did. It was because he went to university. Oh the irony. Or is better to say, similarity? Syntax isn't important right now.

One thing that I've learned about the art of the interview is you kind of have to be having an out of body experience. Rather than being possessed by the ghost that haunts your living space or whatever, you almost have to be everybody but yourself. You have to do whatever it takes for you to embody whatever mundane qualities that they're looking for (mundane, because there are only so many different ways to ask the same question about the same thing for 20-30 minutes.) Eye contact matters. Posture, unfortunately, matters. Dress matters! It's ok if you don't want to wear a tie for the second interview, I just wore a sweater over my Nordstrom button down that I got from Goodwill (which was a STEAL). Concise answers matter. It really comes down to delivery. 

SIDEBAR

Now onto the shutdown...

Can we really even be surprised? 

It's the same shit every year. Gridlock in both chambers of Congress. A defense bill that should have already been passed gets nixed by individuals who shouldn't have the right to represent any sort of body politic. The House leaving a day early? It's like they don't even want to pretend they give a fuck, so it seems.

The good? A WaPo article makes claim that the probability of a stop gap is there, which is good until the end of October. Then the shenanigans start again. The bad? It's all bad honestly. The question is when are we going to have non delusional leaders who aren't being led by a man who may or may not be (he def is) a convicted felon? 

Having an opinion on American politics hoy en dia isn't even worth it. You are either a libtard, a fascist, or a communist. Hell, they changed it from being a communist to a socialist actually! It's polarization has turned our already inept leaders into defunct losers, or just showing that they were always that way in the first place.

Alas, I shall enjoy my coffee on this rainy DC day, and revel in the fact that I am still the most interesting and attractive man in this backwards city. Carry the hell on...

Ratio

 Scenario: My boss calls me into their room for a "counseling" session, aka she tells me what I'm doing great at, and what I can do better. Obviously when she said that I was a pleasure to be around and had such a gracious attitude my head was in the clouds. Then, as she gave me my criticisms, my head was still in the clouds. Who cares, I was having a moment.

After the boring part where we were talking about work, the floor was open for whatever was on our minds. We bounced off of each other. She mentioned how she hadn't lived in the states for more than 7 years, how she was eyeballing a job in NYC to be closer to family, and things of that nature. I followed up with how I was having a hard time transitioning from BK to DC, and blurted "I fucking hate DC." She wasn't surprised by my choice of words. I got to say, she's a cool cat. But then, in that moment, I was in fact having a moment. I realized that I can't compare two cities that are known for two different things. In layman's terms, I can't extract orange juice from an apple. She echoed my subtle disposition to my new found point of view, and could see a sense of relief on my face as I realized that I, myself, was the problem and not where I was living. 

That night, I went to bed with a different mindset. Also, to be transparent, I know this sounds corny as shit. But, to be transparent, I don't give a fuck. Anyway, I woke up the next day actually living in DC. I let the cicadas sing all night outside my window. I let the natural sunlight creak through my blinds to wake me up at dawn, only to be 15 minutes late to work (just like everyone else). I was finally doing what I had been planning to do all along-- to just be. I don't know why people have such a hard time doing that, and it confuses you even more when you see yourself falling down that same path. Still, it's important to realize when you are priming yourself for disappointment, and to mitigate it right then and there.

Sure, I can miss other cities. Shit, I still miss Santiago. And the shitty city. But isn't the whole point of being, specifically being in your 20's and even your 30's, to experience new cities, new happenings, new, things? There's a lot to like about DC if you actually put your mind to it. That's kinda where the beauty lies. You, for all intents and purposes, get what you put into it. I've learned to enjoy my commute to my job where although I think most of the people in my building are complete jabronis, it's still a place that breeds tons of intelligence and intelligent people. I hate to say it, but it's true. I've come to fall back into the southern-esque way that some folks move, speak, talk, and just are around here. It gives me slight tinges of being back in The Field. I was even blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd on my way to the skatepark today. I've come to enjoy my neighbors giving me the gossip about my drag of a neighbor who's been calling the cops on my car to give me tickets. Sidebar: that was lame as fuck when I figured that out. I've come to enjoy my quiet block, and having the fall air hit my face as I open my back door first thing in the morning. I've come to appreciate a lot of things that I should have been in the last few months in the last few days, and I hope that this trend continues.

It's weird. You feel like you've been in a place for so long when you haven't even been there for a year. It's been almost 6 months for me. That's enough time for some tangible, noticeable change. And I'll allow it. 

So there's that. Take whatever you might from this. Or take nothing. I don't care. Here's a picture of the DC streetcar.

If you saw this in person, you'd understand. 

A Very Normal Day

 I woke up this morning, like many, on my couch with my TV on. The time was around 1AM. My unbrushed teeth felt just as they were, and my body still had the sticky, sweaty feeling that you only get by driving for more than 3 hours. I was fucking fried.

But sometimes that feeling of being fried leads to being refreshed. I eventually relocated to my bed and set several alarms to be up at 7 sharp. And 715. And 730. and 745. 

As I drag myself out of my door, I wonder where the home health aide who usually says "hi" to me in the morning is, as I haven't seen her in a few days. None the matter. I hop on my fix gear and slug it up the hill, then the other hill, cross the main street, lock my bike, and get on the metro.

More often than not, the train will be there when I get there. And it didn't fail today. The only surprise was that I was stuck on it for a good 45 minutes because of some "emergency" at Rosslyn. Lame. But also I didn't care. I checked my emails before I left for work, anyway. 

The air is cool, and admittedly dry, for once this year. You can see the tinge of autumn creeping in from across the Potomac (y'all dig the picture I'm painting?), but soon come back to reality as you have beads of sweat dripping down your neck.

Work is work. Sometimes you get lucky and your supervisor doesn't decide to show up. Sometimes you get lucky and get sent home for a huge storm that never happens. Sometimes you don't. Today was a mix. Half of the office was teleworking, my bosses were in meetings all day, and I had an extra 15 for my lunch. A very formidable "W", if you ask me.

I scurry out of my job at 4:52, because I make a nickel and the boss makes a dime. Instead of being responsible, I go to a very randomly placed Spanish restaurant off of 17th street for a cerveza and a mollete, embrace the chow, and leave all in 20 minutes. The train was right next to the spot, and I was home within the hour.

After destroying me knee at the skatepark and icing it for almost 4 days, I felt as if a bike ride was needed. At first it was just to Lincoln Park, but then I was at the Capitol, which is close enough to southwest to where I decided to send it to the Wharf. The sunset was nice. Nice enough to where I posted it on Instagram. I don't care that I just mentioned that either. 

My headphones have been on shuffle for the last hour or so of my bikeride, skipping from Carti, to Title Fight, Tim Maia, Pavement, Rosinha de Valenca, Biggie, you get the gist. For some reason, I felt like I was back in Chesterfield skating around with no aim. It was a very eye opening moment for me to feel like I was 15 again in a different setting.

The temperature has made it so it's ok to be outside at night without overheating. My back patio finally has some potential now. I drank my last beer before I went on the bike ride, but I'll probably go get some more. 

Me and RFK are...Twins?

No, this isn't about Robert F. Kennedy. I couldn't even tell you what his relation is to JFK, but that's besides the point. It's a seemingly abandoned stadium that has been the controversy of local neighborhood residents, politicians, Twitter (or X?) rampages, possible sports team's relocation and things of the like. As you drive down 295, the opulence, and I use that term lightly, of the stadium's rusting corners give the sky a copper tinge, and automatically make you think "why is this piece of shit still here?"

With all of the slander that it faces and the nothingness that it represents, the potential is there. Maybe it'll be the home of the Commanders, a team that may or may not even be the Commanders come this NFL season. Maybe it'll be affordable housing that doesn't get bogged down by unnecessary HOA regulations. Maybe it'll turn into a crazy big shopping center like they did to Ballston (for those who remember it when it was just a bathroom and a place to hang out while waiting for the shuttle, the transformation is out of this world). Maybe! Maybe! Maybe! <----- I feel like this is a good plug that say that I love the song "Maybe" by Janis Joplin, and quite possibly the only song that I like by her. Maybe.....

Once you hit your mid to late 20's, you kinda start feeling like RFK. Decrepit. Jaded. For a lack of better words, "vintage', but not even in the positive light. You enter the phase of your life when endlessly scrolling through countless social media apps just isn't as fun anymore, where your friends live in cities all over, where your job --might-- be wanting you to end it all (parody), and when things that you might've taken for granted before just seem out of reach. I'm sure that the stadium has never felt any of this since it's an inanimate object, but the point remains. 

But that's where the beauty in all of the muck resides. The future can be bright, IF YOU WANT IT TO. Those new apartments or Commanders buyout could be a new hobby or band that you find. Yes, I'm being that basic, and I don't care! There are things that normies get right that microinternet celebs / film guys / vintage resellers / podcasters / cinephiles / designers / servers / accountants / businesswoman/men don't. These are all occupations or things that my friends do if you were wondering btw. 

Come to think of it, the thought of what I was actually going to type was way better than what's on the screen. I don't get paid to do this anyway. RFK is getting a makeover, and maybe I am too. Just sans all of the makeup and stuff. 

Eastern Market

 You know when you walk in public places, such as the Farmer's Market, and there are just plenty of influencers taking photos of themselves with organic carrots and beets for their feed? The caption is like "I love this town." or "blah blah blah look at me follow gymshark and add me on tiktok" or something like that. It's predictable to say the least. But today at Eastern Market was slightly different. The amount of influencers there? Like, three, maybe. I could count them on one hand! A rarity.

I didn't feel like I was in a city when I was there, either. The people were a lot more toned down. Very chill and normal. Maybe I just wasn't ready for it to be that mundane? A welcome surprise I would say. 

DC has been just that. A welcome surprise. Life is simpler here. Take that as you will. There's a vibrancy that you miss coming from a big city. But there's a certain quaintness about a smaller, considerably duller place that you move to. You're not there to impress anybody. You're not there to look good for anyone. You're there for just, you. I stand in solidarity with everyone who moved from somewhere much cooler than DC for themselves and bask in its midness. A wise person once said "sometimes mids do be hittin'", but I counteract that statement with a tweet that I sent out not that long ago that said "you can't romanticize mid", which I kinda what I'm doing now. The duality of man in a few sentences.

Has anybody ever seen Oz? How did that show make it on the air anyway? 

Careening Towards the Mid-Atlantic

 What is Slouching Towards Bethlehem, anyway? Seems archaic. I hope some get the reference. 

If there's one thing about New York, it's that it's vain enough to have a sub-genre about itself. You know, the stereotypical "Leaving New York" essay. I'm pretty sure Didion was the one who started this trend back in 1967, when she realized that after 8 years the glow of the city went away. "Goodbye to all of that" didn't seem like an essay by someone who had given up on their hopes and dreams, or someone who had been let down by the city. It seemed like it was written by someone who had matured slightly from their younger selves, who's heart was entangled with someone else's, who couldn't themselves the same way that they saw themselves before in the ever-changing city that New York is. 

“You see I was in a curious position in New York: it never occurred to me that I was living a real life there,”

This describes the experience of many. I've felt this way plenty of times. The onus of the city is to make you feel new, to make you experience whatever it is that you haven't felt, seen, heard, believed before. But, at the same time, it's just as easy to be present in the moment. 

Three years doesn't seem much. But, for someone who hasn't lived outside of their hometown for more than a few months, three years is the next best, or already is, thing. Memories here that I've made will last a lifetime. And thank God I got half of the film I developed on print, also. 

The city brings out the worst in you at times. Hawking at people at the bar for looking at your girlfriend the wrong way. The snake eyes for someone accidentally spilling their drink on you. The long and jaded sigh over a group of people 5 years younger than you who walk in like they own the place (why be jealous, anyway? I walked into Sullys, Sticky Rice, and Helen's like this for years), blocking people out who ask you for money, screaming indecencies while walking down 1st Ave., the list is, really, expansive. I could give you a list of about 50 things I've done wrong on any single given night from March 2020 up until now.

On the flip side, the city can also bring out the better side of people. The corny shit you see on TV about helping little old ladies cross the street is, more or less, true. But there are other human interactions that you see across other metropolitan areas that aren't so much unique to New York, like giving up your subway seat for a pregnant woman, shit like that. It's much easier to remember the bad, most definitely. What I can say is that I've had equal to greater things that are great happen to me here than the bad. I mean, worst thing that's happened is my catalytic converter getting stolen. Hoppers probably needed the cash more than me in the long run.

I could go on about how the coffee at Porto Rico in the West Village was my safe space if I was having a terrible day at my subpar civil service job in Lower Manhattan, or how post work beers at Off The Wagon or 212 Hisae made the 35-40 minute commute less strenuous. I could tell you how I've learned how to stand up for myself more, and made it so my voice is, at the very least, heard. I could tell you this place is one of the best to cut your teeth at, how run-ins with locals at the bar reinforce your reason for living here, how having a solid group of friends elevates your NYC tenure, or how the 3am deli sandwich has medical remedies that have yet to been posted on Mayo Clinic. I could say so, so many things, But why continue to blab about what this city has given to me? What have I given to it?

Well, first off, my taxes. That's annoying.

Other than that? I've given my best foot forward for most things here. My job, my significant other, my extended family, the typical, run-of-the-mill nonsense. But I also gave my best foot forward in believing that I had a small, insignificant slice of this city. That in however many years when someone asks me "what was it like living there?" that I can tell them about wandering through Central Park with my friends, or binging on $2 (now $3) beers at Carmelo's, feasting on the finest birria in all of Bushwick, or maybe the city in general, going to the U.N. building to get your covid vaccine (that shit was kind of lit, can't lie), and all of the other great times I've spent, mistakes I've made, the whole lot. I wouldn't change it for the world. 

Now this BLOG post? This is no "Goodbye to All of That". Far from it. I didn't even learn about Joan Didion until about, like, 2 years ago. Granted, she was a pandemic find. A gem for that matter. And since reading that essay, I always knew there would be an expiration date on my time here. At the moment, at least. I've dreamt on what I would do if I chose to live here again, where I would live, all of that good stuff. But it's good to live in the moment, and not get too ahead of yourself. That's always been an issue of mine, but, with saying that, I've gotten better at it. 

They say Washington is LA for ugly people. Luckily, I hate LA, and I'm far from ugly. I've already got that going for me. Well see if I end up on the Post for being an unnamed source or something like that. Until then, I'll be enjoying my last week in North Brooklyn, while letting the winds of change make their ways. 

FIN