DC 1: Introduction

Yesterday started with a 6.5 hour car ride. I slept through the first part of it, spending the rest of the time talking with my uncle or scanning the radio for tolerable songs. It wasn’t until the final leg of the trip when I realized I was living in a new city.

I’ve been to Washington, DC a number of times, including a recent trip in June, but it’s still an unfamiliar place to me. It’s not like Boston, where even after my earliest visits reminded me how comfortable I felt in New England. Sure, I’m living with my uncle, but I’m in a new city and, for all intents and purposes, I’m all alone.

We arrived at his apartment in the early afternoon. It overlooks the Meridian Hill Park, and though it’s close to a few major neighborhoods, my uncle places it on the fringe of Columbia Heights, the ‘rich part’ of DC. His place is small; the fridge takes up more than a quarter of the kitchen and the dining area and office form a hybrid corner. Despite the size, it’s luxurious. The complex’s roof overlooks the city, with memorials on the periphery and the Washington Monument jutting out in the distance. But my uncle’s personal touches still stuck out the most; a plasma screen hanging on the wall, free of stray wires; a plastic-pouched organizer hanging in the closet, clothes stuffed in every pocket; silver containers to consolidate the food, separated by cereal, pasta, coffee, etc. And tucked in close to the window, by a ledge shelved with glass vases that shimmer like diamonds: my bed for the next few months.

I unpacked my things, fitting all my clothes into one closet, the excess of my bags underneath the daybed. Shortly after, my uncle drove us to the Costco in Virginia, and we hauled boxes of groceries back to apartment. I helped my uncle meticulously organize our goods. Eventually, we ate, and when there was nothing left to do, I reminded myself: I’m in DC.

Instead of spending my first day exploring, I stayed inside. The lack of motivation to head out was akin to my first day of college, where I found my sense of excitement and fear colliding and creating a sort of paralysis. I indulged in an unhealthy amount of cable TV. I figured I could sleep off the last of my anxiety.

After breakfast this morning, I went for a run past various embassies, the White House, and the Washington Monument. In the afternoon, I applied for some jobs while sitting in the local café. I stumbled around Dupont Circle, admired the variety of restaurants, perused a bookstore. In the evening, after venturing home, I sat in Meridian Hill and read. It was reinvigorating.

Nothing huge happened today. I wasn’t in shock or awe of my new environment, like Gauguin in Polynesia or the American ex-pats in France. Perhaps my limited city experience has left me a bit jaded. But all the same, it was life changing. I made a conscious attempt to change my life, and though it can turn out shitty or sweet, at least I made the change.

(As you could infer from the title, this is the inaugural post in what I intend to be an ongoing series. That means you'll have to ignore the initial intention of this blog, which was to avoid my personal trials. Whatever).