I Remember

There are very few events that I remember EXACTLY where I was. Usually it’s just a hazy recollection of being in a general place at a general time. Like most people, I remember in vivid detail — down to what I was wearing and who I was talking to on September 11, 2001.

I remember getting on the shuttle bus to the metro shortly after the first plane hit when no one even imagined it was anything more than a horrible accident.

I remember talking to my mom on the phone as I walked from the metro to the National Museum of American History, where I had started an internship about a week prior.

I remember walking into that building when everyone was realizing that this was not a horrible accident, but a planned attack.

I remember the boom when the third plane hit the Pentagon, and watching smoke rise from the window in our office.

I remember trying to call my mom on a Nokia cell phone and not being able to get through. I remember my boss finally telling me to use the landline.

I remember assuring my mom that no, there was not a plane down on the National Mall, I could see outside the window.

I remember walking outside the building and thinking it all looked like a scene from a movie, cars everywhere, people streaming toward, anywhere, trying to get out of the city, to find loved ones, to just get away.

I remember a security guard telling me the basement of the American History Museum was a bomb shelter, and maybe I should stay put.

I remember sitting in an abandoned replica of a turn of the century Ice Cream Parlor/museum exhibit eating pastries out of the case. I remember catching a glimpse of the TV coverage in someone’s office.

I remember finally getting on the metro that afternoon to go home and how odd it was that it was completely empty.

I remember coming up from the metro and being even closer to the Pentagon. I remember huddling together with my classmates in  one of their rooms flipping channels and watching replay after replay of the day’s events.

I remember the friends, family, loved ones who reached out with concern for my well being, and the coworkers who offered me their families because they knew I was far from mine. I remember that my memories are not unique. I remember that we were all impacted in some way that day, and most of all, I remember that WE remember. #neverforge

Cowtown Half Marathon!

Sunday, my friend and I did the Cowtown half marathon. It was a blast! This was my second half marathon, and while I didn’t experience the “holy crap, what did I just accomplish?” moment of my first, I did have that moment of “hey, this is a thing I can actually do on the regular!”

I called my mom after the race and she asked “Where in Fort Worth did you run?” to which I answered “Everywhere.”

Inspiration

I find I’m usually the last one to figure out what inspires me. Maybe it’s because I rarely take the opportunity to step back and examine my life in the macro. When I do, the patterns are usually slapping me in the face. Whether it’s that I’ve bought ten shirts over six months that all look alike, or in this case, that I’ve taken multiple photos of the SAME thing over and over. I’m sure my social media friends have blocked or hidden me by now, probably muttering “Geez, ANOTHER picture of the sky, I get it.”

I’ve tried to stop, but find I am unable to, so I inflict them on the internet. Here are some of my personal favorites.

Dallas Skyline

I’m Baaaack

I’m finally home! Not like I’ve been held hostage in DC or anything, but it’s just between making the decision, packing up my life, shipping it back, retrieving it and unpacking it, it feels like a lifetime. I owe a HUGE thanks to my parents who have helped finance this endeavor, and also to the Russian mob who helped ensure that my car made it back to Texas in one piece.

Seriously…for a good twelve hours I was sure my car was being used in some sort of human trafficking ring. I dropped it off in a non-descript parking lot behind a non-descript office building and basically handed the key over before climbing into an unmarked black SUV with an (attractive) Russian stranger. It had ALL the hallmarks of an excellent episode of Law and Order: SUV or one of Liam Neeson’s “Taken” movies. I even texted my friend Emily that I may or may not be in the process of being human trafficked.

Luckily, my car made it to Texas (and so did I). Obviously, I’m thrilled to be back and my taco intake has been increased by 2,000%. I think the lady at Taco Delite knows me on sight now. I’m also readjusting to freeway driving where the speed limit is 70 MPH (translation 80 MPH). All in all, it’s going well. The cat has come down from her hiding place above the fridge and is learning to love the new place.

Ok, this window is pretty awesome.

I’m still job-hunting, and, in the meantime, watching free TV. This Criminal Flashpoint Cold Case Minds show is pretty good!

Survival of the Somewhat Fit

About a week and a half ago, I completed the inaugural DC Nike Women’s Half Marathon, my first half. I’m not going to lie, I walked some, but truly, my only goal for the day, was to finish. The fact that I maintained forward momentum for 13.1 miles still kind of astounds me. Halfway through, I caught myself thinking “If you’d told me a year ago I would have finished a half marathon I’d have told you you were crazy.” The truth is that if you’d told me 20 years ago I’d be finishing a half marathon I’d have told  you you were crazy. As I’ve written here before, I’ve never been what one would call athletic. I was manager of the 8th grade volleyball team because I wrote an essay (on a related note, let me just say a well-served volleyball to the side of the head is not the most pleasant experience).

I survived!

For a few precious moments, I am back in Old Texas

Anyone who’s ever met me knows I’m a born and bred Texan (to be fair it’s because I met most of those people IN Texas, but I’m also pretty vocal about it up here in D.C.). I made the choice to move up here almost exactly eight years ago, and for the most part it’s worked out pretty well. That being said, there are definitely times when I feel an overwhelming homesickness. Usually it happens when I watch Friday Night Lights and realize I’m nowhere near fulfilling my dream of becoming Tami Taylor.

Fair Warning (Future Randomness)!

OK, I’m going to try to post to this thing more regularly, which means, if you choose to follow, prepared to be bored, confused and/or slightly uncomfortable at my awkwardness. That’s to say, prepare to have your normal reaction to reading what I post here. I’m pretty sure I’ll be relying on Instagram for a LOT of content, although I do promise to keep the cat pictures to a minimum. I’ll save those for Facebook! Instead, I’ll keep it classy here with artsy photos of sunrises through rain drop-splattered car windows:

 

Hahahaha, that’s a lie. I’ll most likely post several pictures of the cat. Mostly just to document her ongoing plot to smother me in my sleep and steal all my pants (I’m not crazy….it’s true).

In all honesty, the last year has been kind of an awesome one. Lots of changes, including my recent “hobby” of running. I say “hobby” because I’m not convinced I enjoy running so much as I enjoy the point in the run when I stop. I kid (but only a little bit).

For now, consider this fair warning for future randomness! (Also “Future Randomness” is absolutely going to be the title of my second album…I’ll keep you posted on the first).

It’s not a big deal…Until it is

I’m now writing this for a second time. Which is annoying, but anyway. If you know me, or are one of the five people who read this blog, I’m really only game for the occasional feminist rant. I would much rather be spending my time trying to convince you to watch certain TV shows I particularly like  (seriously, The Vampire Diaries is way better than it has any right to be. Go check it out  – watch a few eps – come back and thank me). But something happened today (well, yesterday at this point) that, over the course of the evening, morphed into something I realized I felt pretty strongly about.

Wish You Were Here!

My parents just got back from vacation, and it reminded me of the family vacations we took when I was a kid. I have some really fond memories of long road trips listening to Bryan Adams on a Walkman and hoping the hotel we were staying in had a pool.  I also learned some very valuable lessons along the way. Of course, the most important one was “Always pack snacks” followed closely by “Try to wait until you’ve left your street before diving into the snacks.” The rest are below in no particular order.

Just Call Me Steve

Everyone is funny. Everyone has a sense of humor. It may not be a mainstream sense of humor, and maybe you can’t tell a joke to save your life, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have your moments of hilarity.  In my opinion, nothing kills a joke faster than trying too hard, and nothing saves it faster than self deprecation. This especially helps in those moments when you start telling a story and realize half way into it’s one of those “had to be there stories.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done that. Being able to laugh at yourself is truly one of the keys to developing and maintaining a sense of humor. Looking back, I have had sooooo many missed opportunities to laugh at myself. Opportunities that my family never failed to take advantage of.