Ancored

and in the weeds.

defining elsewhere

when the travel itch kicks in and yet can’t be subdued, it’s said the scratch of a pen can ease wanderlust. and so i return to this dusty old blog, as i tend to do between seasons and sojourns, to scribble out something that makes messy seem glamourous and restlessness appear admirable.

Fall arrived today. Walked out my door this morning and BAM! there it was - filling my nostrils, caressing my cheeks, teasing me with a comfortable cool. Autumn shouldn’t be trusted. She brings all sorts of beginnings -- freshly-sharpened pencils and new semesters, sweater sales and crisp breezes -- but after a fleeting fall romance leaves you cold, frumpy and wondering what happen to all those daylight hours. Like any heartbreak, though, she should be embraced and appreciated to her fullest while it lasts. So bring it on, autumn, your holiday parties and all.

Like a squirrel, I’m using autumn to gather, horde and plot. But instead of collecting nuts or fluffing my drey, I’m taking inventory of loose ends and stringing them together as resourcefully as I can. Not sure where the countdown is leading, but the countdown is on. Like a boat person string-together plastic bottles, I’m hoping the wreckage of my transition back to the US will craft a fantastic mode of transportation to elsewhere. And against which moderately-temperatured climate does my escapist fantasy play out this year? The usual suspects, of course: Cairo, Tokyo, Southern California... New obsessions, too: Tel Aviv, a hodgepodge of less developed island countries, Costa Rica. Some criteria are essential: coastline, access to fresh fruits or vegetables, cash-based economy. Suggestions welcomed. Bonus points for proximity to the equator and ability to wear skirts.

on departure and dc.

Tennessee Williams wrote, “There is a time for departure even when there’s no certain place to go.” I like that.  It doesn’t really suit my upcoming departure, but still, I like it.  The certainty of where I’ll be the next several months is juxtaposed so caressingly against the uncertainty about what the next several months hold and how they will unroll. 

This particular departure highlights an interesting dynamic between myself and this quirky, slightly-beautiful, slightly-fucked-up, definitively interesting city that I've called my homebase during the past several years: dc. 

A side observation:  I've found that there is a distinct association that can be made between a person and the way they refer to the city of Washington, in the District of Columbia.

If they call it "Washington" they are generally conservative, law-abiding citizens that approve and respect the complete legitimacy of the US government.  They view this divisive little city as prestigious, inspiring and "important". Some of these characters include:  The President of Campus Republicans, your grandmother, and international leaders with hegemonic dilemmas.  Starchy.

If they call it "the District" they are generally liberal, democracy-trusting advocates or lobbyists that "love this city" even tho they are probably fighting "the man". Sometimes they are new to the city, sometimes they are transient,  and most times they are inexperienced.  Some of these characters include the yuppie hipster who moved from Omaha to go to GW, that intern, and DC Statehood Protesters.  Altruistic yet maybe aloof. 

If they call it "The Nation's Capitol" they are simply lame.  Probably wearing a bright orange shirt to match their "Segue" tour group.  Maybe they are a Congressional Page interning with their local congressman. They are definitely standing on the left - that is, in the "subway".  Douchey and/or tourist.

And what, you may ask considering my own usage, is there to say of people who call it simply "dc"?

No matter how much satisfaction leaving dc gives me every time I leave, I never feel “done” with dc; I seem to have a dogged affection for this disparity-ridden, museum-filled, arrogant-yet-promising town of northern charm and southern efficiency.  "dc" is real.  And like other beautiful, harsh realities - it feels great to escape them but oddly-comforting to return to them.  Furthermore, we trust that going back to it or sticking with it is worthwhile, like it's a place with people and politics that are soulful, honest and worth the day-to-day. Ironically, it's soul-sucking on occasion but forming a meaningful grit in our souls. 

Cheers to an impeding departure and eventual return, inshAllah. 

the fourth year & the gestalt stage

This marks my first post of 2009, albeit a bit late for the new year.  

It seems appropriate that I feel drawn to this humble little blog now, even though it's been entry-less and collecting dust for months.  I began this blog when my plans to study abroad in Egypt started to blossom.  I blogged pretty fanatically, as many westerners in cairo do, and then blogged only intermittently -- totally abandoned it until recently.

I've reached what I'll call the gestalt stage in life.   This is the fantastic stage where all the various pieces, personalities and problems of your life arrange and align themselves in such a way that your mind or soul finds a clear image amidst them.  

In the same way that psychologists explain the ability to perceive more explicit spatial information from a stimulus than the stimulus itself is projecting, so the gestalt stage of life enables one to perceive the greater pattern and smooth idea of their experiences.  I had a high school teacher who always told us to refine our essays in a way that kept a smooth idea  subtly projecting in the background.  While that doesn't sound too ground-breaking, something about it stuck to my teenage soul and I've always wanted to have "a smooth idea subtly projecting in the background" of my life.  

Something about that smooth idea in my life definitely has to do with sunny days and sinai beaches, so this summery dc evening, as  I'm on the cusp of another trip to الشرق المجنون - الشرق الحلو and feeling particularly gestalt-y,  seems to be a fine time to dust off my blog.  

  

Thanks for stopping by.

TravellerTea is currently under renovation. Please visit again in a few weeks.

I remember quite vividly passing newYear's eve tipsy in my grandmother's bathtub in Phoenix where I was dog-sitting by my onesy contemplating what 2008 would bring my way. I remember confiding in my closest friends that if I survived 2008, I would look back on it as a mind-blowing, personally challenging, deeply enlightening year of international hijinx, mild debauchery, and epicurean gluttony.

Without shame or hesitation, that is exactly what this year has been.

And so, as a newYear creeps along the horizon, I find myself wondering what subtle expectations, personal goals and happenstance revelations the universe has in store for me in 2009. Will it be a year of normalcy, as I had hoped at some point during adventurous, turbulent 2008? Will it be a year of unprecedented hijinx and enlightenment? Will it be the year that darkens retrospect with irreparable mistakes and shoulda-woulda-coulda-but-didnts? Will it be a year characterized by sweet turnign points and waltz-like steps towards the life goals?

Who really knows. But in the meantime, a few newYear's resolutions...

If I had any doubt that the Royal Palace Nightclub was actually a strip joint, it was erased by the fact that the ATM outside dispenses singles. Resolution #2: Write more. Whether it's unleashing the mediocre fiction ansty to pour out at the wee hours of the morning, or quality blogposts that make people laugh and want to forward them on to their friends, or - heaven forbid - publishing something academic!

اوباما



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يبارك الله فيهم

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