Job Opportunity

To have a space to park your moving container in the District of Columbia you must obtain and pay for a permit. This permit process is all online EXCEPT for actually getting the permit. For that, you must visit your friendly local District of Columbia police station. There, you log into a computer circa 1999 and a printer provides you two large signs that say "EMERGENCY NO PARKING" and have your phone number and name on it. If you don't do this, you'll get fined and, in my mind, arrested and imprisoned forever.

I had been a resident of Washington D.C. for four days when I worked up enough courage to go to the police station. After missing the turn TWICE then missing the next turn THREE times I completed my 3 mile journey in only an hour. Win. I've got my confirmation number, my email, my driver's license, and my passport. I'm prepared to give blood and submit to a retina verification process if necessary. I park and walk past what is for sure a crack house (that's right, next to a police station) and open the door to my Ward 5 police station.

As I open the door the smell of whiskey and White Diamonds hits me. Hard. I have walked into the police station at the exact same time that four local hookers are being let go from their night in captivity. A large, potentially male dressed as a lady, hooker stops in her tracks, puts her hand on her hips, leans back, and looks me up and down. She's wearing a short, tight, sparkly blue skirt, heels (one is unbuckled), and a puffy coat with fur. I start to hear "boots with the furrr.." in my head just as she says, "Oooooweeeeeeee, baby gurl, we could make you some MONEYYYYYYY". The cop escorting the ladies of the night tries to hurry them along but is holding back a laugh. The receptionist screams "LEAVE THAT CHILD ALONE". And I start smiling, standing wedged between a trash can and a metal detector. My hooker friend goes on and her friends laugh, "Baby, if you get tired of being a good girl, you come let us know. We got you". They are laughing. I'm laughing. The cop is laughing. As they walk out the door one says "Fuck, I ain't go no money for one of them egg Mc..Mc...What the fuck you call them sandwiches?" I hear then talking about how many egg McMuffins they can buy as the door shuts and the cop walks back in.

The receptionist who called me child says, "You look like you just need a permit. Go print it over there, sweetie". As I print my permit, I see another hooker snoozing in the corner, her eyelashes falling off, glitter smudged across her cheek. I gather my permits and signage. I walk back to my car and get on the main road. My heated seats kick on. NPR news is on the radio.

I'm so glad I'm a good girl. And I'd bet, if you asked, those ladies (or men) thought they were good girls once too. I think they still are.

Opposite side of myself

Endings come all at once. Lives, friends, hang-ups. School, homes, and boredom. Love, security, and comfort. I'd like to think that one big ending causes lots of little endings but I'm not sure that's the case. I think endings come all at once because too much hanging-on would happen without forced endings. You'd never get to really know what it's like to start fresh if only one thing ended at a time, life is much, much too complicated for that.

If endings come as a package deal so do beginnings. Beginnings are more than a new house, haircut, job, or city. They are a small and precious window to be that person you said you'd be if you just didn't and if you maybe could. Beginnings mean new lives, new friends, and new hang-ups. More school, new homes, and new ways to be bored. More love, new security, and greater comfort. And if beginnings didn't offer those things, endings would never last. It would just be too hard. We'd be back where we started all the time.

I'm not back where I started. I'm on the opposite side of myself. I'm on the opposite side because I've had a lot of endings that have pushed me beyond what I thought of myself. I've had new beginnings that pulled me beyond what I knew of myself. If you give yourself the space, the challenge, and the sense of adventure to end and begin you wind up in places you never knew you could be.

Experience

Experience is weird. If, 10 years ago, you had told 16 year old Alix that she’d be flying to D.C. for interviews, riding the metro alone, making mistakes and recovering and not having an anxiety attack, she would have laughed. She would have laughed and said “Oh that’s dumb. I’m going to be married and living in Houston and pregnant then. I’ll be a stay at home mom. Also, I’m way too nervous to do any of those things. Can we go to Chipotle?”

Experience is that thing that divides people. It’s the delineation between those people that find value in anything and those that think everything sucks. The most interesting people don’t talk a lot about how much something sucks. They’ll talk about the highlights, the good things, and let the rest go. Their experience is positive no matter what actually happened. Those with experience try new things and find good. They try old things and find the good.

Everyday is a chance to put some more notches in my belt (not like that), a few more tricks up my sleeve, forge a new way, and make a new plan. If we look at experience like that, at life like that, the pressure’s off. It’s ok if it sucks or you suck, you don’t have to remember that part. Just remember how to not suck the next time. It's all about interpreting your experience.

To today’s events, 26 year old Alix would says, “F*ck yes I rode the metro. No, no one helped me. Yes, I crushed those interviews. Yes, I tripped on the sidewalk and didn’t care. No, I’m not married. And, can we go to Chipotle?”

How’s that for positivity? Boom.

Yoga Mat = Life

Tuesday night at yoga the room was packed. Like, move your mat over so some jerk who is 5 minutes late can squeeze in kind of packed. I was squished between one middle aged lady with a huge engagement ring and an older lady wearing a Wheatsville Co-Op shirt.

For those of you who do not know, yoga involves extending your body far beyond the reaches of your allotted mat space. So, when the room is packed you encroach on other people's space. Usually everyone will adjust a little to give the folks around them the maximum space. Not on Tuesday.

I am uber socially conscious and restricted my movements so I didn't even get close to Ring Lady and Wheatsville Chick. I didn't fully extend, I didn't fully twist, and I certainly didn't reach my potential. They however, had their feet on my mat at some points and their heads uncomfortably close to my crotch. My arms were bent and awkward to not interrupt them as they fully extended swan dove to the floor like angels. My leg extensions were at 25% so they had room for 100%.

I went into savasana (basically quiet time) annoyed that they didn't make room. Then, I thought, I didn't make them. I gave up so much of myself that I let them take what they wanted to make them comfortable. Then I thought, this room is not big enough for everyone to have their own space for everything. Some other person in this room did the same thing I did and was laying there unsatisfied. And, we had to. We had to sacrifice so that other people could do their thing. If we had all taken all the space we wanted, people would have gotten hurt. The world needs people who sacrifice their own happiness and potential so that others can be comfortable.

But next time, it's my turn to swan dive and stretch and push myself. Ring Lady and Wheatsville Chick take note, I won't always let you have your space. Sometimes, just sometimes, I take what I need.

Herndon 113

Eight years ago, I was getting ready to go to college. I was packing up my stuff, generally freaking out, and feeling like a real grown up. I knew I was living in Herndon 113 with a girl from Highland Park, TX. My suite-mates were exotic. They were from Georgia and California. Whoa. I was ready to take on the world with my coordinated comforter, sheets, art, lamps, and towels.

Last weekend, I visited Herndon 113. The room that I moved into eight years at Trinity University with a group of strangers. It looked even smaller than I remember it. The paint was new, the furniture updated, but, still the same. It was still an incubator for college freshman to grow in. Grow indeed.

My dad moved me in and out of that room. My lost my first meaningful relationship in that room. I learned that friends are not always friends in that room. I learned about failing and winning in that room. Seeing it with fresh eyes, reminded me just how far I've come from that 18 year old wearing khaki shorts and a pink t-shirt with a freshly broken heart and endless possibilities on move-in day.

And sometimes, I miss her. And Herndon 113.

Do as I say, not as I do

A year or so ago, I was feeling very future focused. I thought for sure that I knew everything so I wrote down rules for my future daughter(s). (Creepy? Potentially). I came across the list a few weeks ago whilst cleaning out my old purse.

I thought I'd put them on the internet airwaves so one day, she'll have them. Or so everyone can think I'm a psycho. Either way.

1. Don't worry about squeezing the toothpaste from the bottom up. It's just not worth the effort.

2. You are prettier without makeup.

3. Don't do Kamkazi shots, ever.

4. Make him wait. A little.

5. Don't apologize for things that have nothing to do with you.

6. Don't qualify what you say with "I think or maybe I don't understand, but..." Just say it.

7. Have dessert. Then, work it off.

8. Learn to make one dish really, really well. Then, only make it if you love him. Only you'll know what it means.

9. Send cards not emails. Or texts. Or whatever you have by then.

10. If everyone else is drinking beer, don't order a margarita.

11. Get your pets from the pound. They are better animals.

12. Always carry some trail mix, Advil, and a tampon. Always.

13. Don't put the email address in the To: box until you are ready to send.

14. If you think he's lying; he probably is.

15. Don't play all your cards.

16. Don't slam your seat back on the airplane. It's so rude.

17. Always choose dare.

18. When someone asks what you do, don't say your job title. Make it interesting.

19. Keep a flashlight in your bedside table.

20. Wear whatever you want. Don't worry about it.

21. Don't be afraid to cut your hair. It's fine.

22. Get really good at Scrabble.

23. Don't cry at work. Ever.

24. Calculate the cost of clothing by cost per wear. If you wear it a lot, it's ok to spend more.

25. Have nice perfume.

26. Throw our underwear that aren't pretty. Only buy one's that are.

27. Check the weather.

28. It doesn't matter what you major in in college. It's all about ambition, baby.

29. Only buy art you love.

30. Buy the expensive olive oil. It's worth it.

31. If he doesn't get your jokes; leave.

32. Remember what it felt like to get asked to your first dance.

33. Forget what your first dance was like.

34. You are more than your job.

35. Don't put your mother in a gross nursing home that smells like urine.

36. Learn to hover and pee.

37. Get your oil changed regularly.

38. Learn to say no. And mean it.

Rainbow Hunters

Not too long ago, I would make my little sister sit in the game room and be the student while I played teacher. I'd put saran wrap on the window and pretend it was an overhead machine. I'd give her quizzes and generally torture her. Not too long before that, we'd run around the house playing rainbow hunters with a little plastic prism. We'd find places the sun leaked in and use our magic prism to make rainbows.

Since then, we've watched each other fall in love and get our our hearts broken. We've both been through serious health crisis (I mean, lungs collapsing and everything). We've buried our Dad. We've been rocks and bowls of jello, but never at the same time.

Last week I watched her graduate from college and on Monday we'll travel together to Utah for a grown up girls vacation. We are both adults with educations and plans and dreams for our own lives. One day, sooner than later, we'll have our own new families.

This is the way of things. You grow up and do things on your own. All those days you thought were boring, like the day you went to the nursery with your dad and sister and got a Christmas tree. Or the day you learned to water ski with your family cheering you on. Or the time she threw up green beans. Or that day you all sat around and watched football and drank Cokes, are the best days.

And I suspect that one day, when I have two kids and a job and a husband and a house to run, these will be the best days. The days when I had time to sit on my couch and drink tea and write a blog.

Every day is the best day. You just don't know it until they are gone.