So maybe this is it....?

A few years ago, I came across a two-page essay I had written in my junior-year history class.  The grade was an A, but the comment was something to the effect of, 'Surely, Julie, this is too cynical, even for you.  You can't really believe this, do you?'  And a few years ago I looked at that with some blushing and thought, 'Wow.  I was pretty cheeky/sassy/full of it.'

But now, I think that perspective, the one I wrote so long ago while, so full of unfounded (in that I had had little first-hand experience) cynicism may have had the right idea.  I still blush to think about the strictly negative view I took at that time -- I have since come to appreciate small victories in a way that was foreign at that moment -- but I have also come full-circle, through up-close and personal experience, to think that I was not so far off the mark.  But now instead of feeling smart, as I did then, I feel tired.  I do not want to think that I am so often right about the things I know so much about now, from academic study and personal experience.  I take no comfort in my correct assessment.

So I now do the best I can, waiting for a moment to make a difference.  And while things are not at all bad, I am awful enough to wish for more.  But even more often, I wish I could write more.

City Rats and Inappropriate Office Behavior

The other day as I was walking into the building, I encountered some incredibly bizarre elevator etiquette, which reminded me of two other stories I've been meaning to post.

It's Not a Now-or-Never Thing...
The other morning, I was talking to Stephane on the phone as I came into my office building.  I went through security, waited for the elevator, and got on board.  Just before the doors closed, a very tall, very young man jumped (truly) on to the elevator and proceeded to physically barge into me in his hurry to push the button for his floor.  I laughed immediately b/c I was so surprised at being bum-rushed on a State Department elevator, but I was still talking to Stephane, so I looked up at the guy with a clear 'You are a nutjob' expression and pointed at the other side of the elevator door -- where there is a second keypad (i.e., this dude could easily have just pushed a button over there and gotten to his destination without running me over).  He looked at the keypad and looked back at me, still standing sort of close, and said, 'Oh.  Sorry -- I guess I was a little too excited.'  Because I am reasonably sure this person was an intern, I decided not to be too mean and just laughed at him again.

It's Not a Peephole
A few months ago, I was in the ladies room, doing what one does in the bathroom.  I heard someone come into the bathroom and attempt to open my stall door (which was, of course, locked).  Since there were two other unoccupied stalls available, I assumed the person would move on when they realized my stall was occupied.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked up to see an eyeball peering through the crack between the stall door and the wall!  The person said, 'OH!  Sorry,' and moved on to the next stall.  Just goes to show that passing a background check is not evidence of being a normal human being.

I Hate College Kids on the Sidewalk, Too.
Late last summer, I was taking my usual route from the office to the Metro, via the GWU campus.  Which really just means I was walking through the streets of DC near my office, but since the campus is in the middle of Foggy Bottom, all pedestrians must suffer the throngs of college kids milling around the sidewalk.  Apparently, the rats suffer, too.  And one of them had had enough.  As I was walking up the street, I saw a young college woman jogging and, just ahead of her, I saw what I thought was a squirrel with a tail problem. As I got closer, I saw that it was in fact a rat, which was sort of interesting b/c I had never seen a rat just out on the sidewalk like that.  The girl jogger kept coming, the rat maintained his ground, and either girl jogger didn't notice the rat, or she thought he would move (I did), but either way, she just kept coming.  Just as she reached the point where the rat needed to move or risk getting squashed, he jumped -- *toward*girl*jogger*.  Not in a rabid, trying-to-bite way, but just in a I-was-here-first-and-I'm-not-scurrying-into-that-bush way.  Girl jogger squealed and executed a highly entertaining series of hops and flails, while the rat gave chase for a good 5 feet or so, much to the delight of everyone except girl jogger.  His job done, the rat finally did scurry into the bushes and, I presume, spent a happy evening tell all of his rat friends what he'd been up to. 

Striking a balance

One of the less attractive aspects of my new job: I am severely constrained in what I can post or otherwise write publicly.  (I am, however, happier than ever that I am not on Facebook -- there are a surprising number of stories of people in this job having issues b/c of things they posted on The Facebook...I mean, we all went through the crazy vetting process and were selected partly because of our ability to be discreet and, ya know, appropriate, but...)  I would say on average, there are no fewer than three moments per workweek where something happens and all I can think is, 'Oh, my gosh, I wish I could write about this!!' but I can't, for whatever reason(s).

I think my response to this rather uncomfortable leash has been to avoid my blog entirely, but I am going to work on getting that balance right, on writing about things that are interesting, but cannot be considered objectionable.  (I imagine that elicited quite a snort from some readers... heh.)
On a better note, I know where I am heading next: Tijuana, Mexico.  Yes, that *is* better than my current DC  assignment.  Well, for me it is, anyhow.  My desire to reconnect with my home country has been more than fully sated and I am ready to get back into other parts of the world.  And since I seem drawn to, er, 'interesting' places, I think TJ will be a nice fit.  Plus, it is right on the water and the security situation is currently good enough to allow us to explore the surrounding Mexican wine country, as well as the Baja California Peninsula (taquerias and tequila on the beach!).  San Diego is only 20 minutes away (when the border is cooperative), so we can also get to know California a bit better, Stephane should be able to find some decent job options, and we will always be able to shop at Trader Joe's!  Oh, and no winter!!  Fabulous.  Now I just have to learn Spanish...