Waiting for Wednesday

Last night, I was nervous to take the D.C. metro. Given the “credible” 9/11 anniversary threats on New York City and the nation’s capital, it seemed silly to take public transportation. Regardless of my hesitance, I headed out to Adam’s Morgan to meet up with some friends at a bar. One of the guys mentioned feeling immense tension on the train. Everyone seemed to be eyeing each other and frantically looking around for suspicious characters. I definitely experienced this on my journey to D.C. and back, but chose not to be afraid. My mom advised me not to go into the city on the 10-year anniversary, and while I plan on following her order, I’m not doing so out of fear.

Truthfully, I’m tired of living in constant anxiety. Ever since the earthquake hit a few weeks ago, I’ve been on edge. My nerves only intensified when the hurricane struck. Soon after, I learned that a former professor’s son had died. My former roommate’s boyfriend’s home flooded. Last week, northern Virginia and D.C. were hit with flash flood warnings. Even scarier, D.C. has been on terror watch. For the past month, I’ve had nightmares about attacks and natural disasters, both of which never haunted my dreams before I relocated to the east coast. These days, all I do is worry about manners over which I have zero control.

But today, I made the decision to stop listening to fear-mongering media outlets and simply be thankful that it’s a nice day out. I’ve been at Starbucks all morning and the baristas provided free iced and hot coffee from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m. in memory of 9/11. The employees and customers have been chipper and in good spirits all morning, and the atmosphere is surprisingly peaceful. The sun isn’t out, but there’s no rain either. The clouds have had somewhat of a calming effect on everybody, I think.

So, I’m done freaking out over all the possibilities and will enjoy the rest of my iced vanilla latte instead:

On lighter and admittedly more superficial matters, I said goodbye to my favorite skinny jeans the other day. These pants got me through winter but no longer fit, so I put them in the back of my closet for good. I tend to eat less in cold weather because I’m too miserable to do anything but read, write, practice yoga, and sleep, so summer simultaneously boosts my appetite and mood. Perhaps I’ll be able to slip them on again before the next blizzard, but I’m not counting on it.

It doesn’t help that I live a block away from the metro, grocery store, and Chipotle. Last year, I walked practically a mile each way to the metro station, so the forced exercise kept my blood flowing during the chilliest of mornings. That’s no longer the case.

In three days, I’ll be in California. My mother has promised to take me to my favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner and we have also have plans to see “The Help.” A southern California girl at heart, she has also made appointments for us to get our toes done on Santana Row. Talk about “cool mom”! Truth be told, I’m most looking forward to the beach.


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