The Playlist: A Love Letter

     Leaving is always bittersweet, and this time was no different.  The last few posts of last week were shorter, even though I had grand ideas for them.  Eventually, they became a tad gut wrenching, so I had to stop.  It turns out there were some pretty great people in DC, and the more I thought about them, the harder it got to say god-bye.  I spent the train ride thinking about it, and I became a cliche--the girl crying on the train, staring out the window, watching the world go by.
     I listened to this song many times:

It felt like the first day of my life. But also, and I realize this isn't what the song meant, I was holding onto hope that if I realized one day I wanted to go home, they would take me back.
     And now it really does feel like the first day of my life.

     I wrote this love letter to my friends.  It's a modern day love letter, so it's not a love letter at all, it's a playlist.  If you're interested, the song list is here.

5 Years Time – Noah And The Whale
This Too Shall Pass – OK Go
Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want – The Smiths
First Day Of My Life – Bright Eyes
No Children – The Mountain Goats
She’s Got You High – Mumm-ra
Swim Until You Can’t See Land – Frightened Rabbit
If I Had A Boat – Lyle Lovett
Hurry Up Let’s Go – Shout Out Louds
Kids – MGMT
Daylight – Matt & Kim
Monday Morning – Death Cab for Cutie
My Beloved Monster – Eels
This Year – The Mountain Goats
Portland, Oregon – Loretta Lynn, Jack White
Joy – Lucinda Williams
Song for Myla Goldberg – The Decemberists
Furr – Blitzen Trapper
Goodbye (This Is Not Goodbye) – Over the Rhine
Two Weeks – Grizzly Bear
You Got Growing Up To Do – Joshua Radin feat. Patty Griffin
Things – Frightened Rabbit
The Cave – Vitamin String Quartet
Moves – The New Pornographers
Coffee And Cigarettes – Jimmy Eat World
Girl in the War – Josh Ritter
Elderly Woman Behind The Counter in a Small Town – Pearl Jam
A Real Hero – College, Electric Youth
Always Love – Nada Surf
Dog Days Are Over – Florence + The Machine
Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing – The Magnetic Fields
King of Carot Flowers, Pt. 1 – Neutral Milk Hotel
Fake Empire – The National
Section 9(Light&Day / Reach For The Sun) – The Polyphonic Spree
I Died So I Could Haunt You – Stars
Mutiny, I Promise You – The New Pornographers
Underwater – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Six O’clock News – Kathleen Edwards
Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? – She & Him
Lakes of Pontchartrain – The Be Good Tanyas
Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise – The Avett Brothers
Leave Your Boyfriends Behind – Leona Naess
Float On – Modest Mouse
New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down – LCD Soundsystem
Oxford Comma – Vampire Weekend
Take Me Out – Franz Ferdinand
Honey, We Can’t Afford To Look This Cheap – The White Stripes
You Only Live Once – The Strokes
Nobody Move, Nobody Gets Hurt – We Are Scientists
Junk Of The Heart (Happy) – The Kooks
Pyro – Kings of Leon
Say It Ain’t So – Weezer
Drugs Or Me – Jimmy Eat World
Here Comes Your Man – Pixies
All Kinds Of Time – Fountains of Wayne

  I think this Avett Brothers song best sums up the playlist's thesis:
     

I think I've said it before, but it bears repeating: Thank you Friends. I love you all.

Farewell, DC

     Today is my last day as a resident in the District.  I've been planning it for a while, but it still seems unreal to me.  I haven't wrapped my mind around the fact that on Monday, I won't be walking to the Dupont Metro.  And I won't be sitting at my desk watching new houses go up in the dirt lot next to the building.  And I won't be drinking the shitty coffee, and I won't be making jokes about puppy dogs and ice cream at the Navy Yard.
     I've been pretty crass about the district.  The district and I broke up a few months ago, shown in this Dear John letter.  The truth is, it had its moments.  It wasn't all bad, it just wasn't for me.  We just didn't get along that well.  I think New York City and I will get along swimmingly, and I'm looking forward to our fledgling relationship. 
     (Apparently fledgling isn't really the word I want.  Mary, help me out--what do I mean?)
     Tomorrow I open a whole new chapter.  How exciting.  How scary.  Holy crap, I'm going to live in New York and try to make it after all, a la Mary Tyler Moore.  God, I hope I'm ready for this. 

Wednesday Rain

     Yesterday I told Mary that it always rains on improv days.  We made a few jokes about turning that into a song.  But really, I can't remember a time when I've had improv class or rehearsal and it hasn't been raining.  Then on the news yesterday the weatherman confirmed that on six of the last eight Wednesdays, it has indeed been raining.  It really does always rain on improv days. 

Buying Scotch

     This is my last week in DC and it is an odd one.  The packing is all done; the move has actually already happened.  I'm still in DC for appearances at this point.  A few great friends have been attempting to squeeze in as much time with me as possible.  I greatly appreciate this gesture, however, the same thing keeps coming up and I don't have an answer--what will you miss most about DC? 
     The real answer is that I'll miss the people who are asking that question.  Of course, that's not what they're talking about.  Where should we go?  What's my favorite happy hour location?  What's my favorite pizza place?  I usually just shrug.  I don't have a favorite place here.  That may in fact have been part of the problem.
     I've been to the Bier Barron twice in the last week--two more times than I've been there in the last year.  But I know it exists so when asked where we should go, it's the first thought I have.  It's a bar that serves a wide selection of beer, so it's good enough for me.  My friends now think it's my favorite place.
     There are a whole slew of things I have not done in DC though.  Someone suggested doing a greatest hits of DC before I go--visit all the monuments and museums one last time.  This would also mean I'd visit them for the first time before I go.  I never bothered going because I figured they'd always be there.  And I think they will be, and if I really get an itch to look at a monument or a museum I could come back, or use the internet to search it.  I'm sorry to say that all of the things DC has to offer just don't interest me.
     While considering all of these wonderful things that wonderful friends wanted to do, I felt compelled to reciprocate in some manner.  A gift of some kind seemed appropriate, to say thanks for being my friend and for putting together this lovely going away party.  You're nice.  I appreciate you.  But what?  Liquor?  Yes, that's always a good idea.
     I wandered into a liquor store near my place.  I enjoy Scotch, therefore I believe everyone should enjoy it.  At the same time, it's a gift, so I'm not going to throw a $15 pint of Johnnie Red at my friend.  It should be something nice, something a little bit special in a pretty bottle.  I had a bottle at home that would be perfect, except I wasn't willing to give that one up--it's for a special occasion to be figured out later.  But it was the right size and the right type to give as a gift.  I found the same brand at the store, but it was the large bottle, and came in at just under $150.  Well my, that is a lovely gift.  I tried to describe what I was looking for to the store attendant, but I came off sounding like a dolt looking for Scotch based on the packaging.  I tried to explain that I knew it came from the Isle of Islay, and it was petey, and that's what I wanted, I just wanted less of it, but it was no use.  I was the girl looking for Scotch based on a pretty bottle, and was too cheap to spring for the good stuff. 
     I left the liquor store defeated.  I'm sure my friend will also enjoy a tall bold coffee.  Thanks, friend.  I appreciate you.  Don't burn your tongue. 

The Best Part of Halloween

      I almost forgot about the best part of Halloween.  With the move that weekend, the event that is Halloween has fallen off of my radar.  Plus, I'm not a child so there will be no trick-or-treating.  However, this afternoon I moseyed into a CVS and remembered the best part of Halloween-- CANDY! 
     And not just regular candy either.  The kind of candy that you eat way too much of but don't realize you've eaten too much of it until you're already a pound in.  Candy corn, for example.  I won't stop eating it, even after vomiting orange sugary goo.  For some reason, it's totally worth it.  Candy corn should be one of those things that I avoid because of a bad experience in the past, like silver tequila and cranberry margaritas.  It is not.  I keep coming back for more. 
     It's the best time to get candy in fun sizes.  I know they're technically available all year, but not in fun colors and not really.  The ones that are available in April are just left over from Halloween.  This is the best time to get them. 
     Candy is on sale during Halloween!  You can get massive amounts of awesome candy for cheap.  You can spend all of November just inches away from a diabetic coma for less than $20.
     It's only been about 45 minutes since I purchased the bag of candy corn, and I have already eaten too much.  I've tried to pawn the bag off on coworkers, but they don't want it.  They claim it's because they're not 12-years-old.  Hog wash, I say.  Candy corn is for everyone.  I will power through.

Scary Movies: A Companion Piece

     Mary is my friend, and sometimes we claim to be brain twins because we often think about the same things at the same time.  There are other times when we're not actually thinking about the same thing at all, but I'm desperately trying to get her to continue to like me.  This is one of those times.  I am going to attempt to write a thoughtful piece on scary movies as a companion piece to Mary's thoughtful post about scary movies.
     The first scary movie I saw was Nightmare on Elm Street.  I was 8-years-old.  I actually loved it and begged my sister to rent all of the movies in the series.  She did, and I devoured the Freddy Krueger series.  I believed it to be superior to all the other horror franchise films, based on nothing of course.
     Eventually they lost their luster.  I think it was about the time the fifth one came out and I was old enough to see it in the theater.  By then, I was no longer interested in purposely being scared.
     Somewhere along the line, I started hating horror films.  There was no fun it for me.  I hate being scared.  I can count the number of times I've seen a horror film on one hand, and I don't do it by choice.
     I saw What Lies Beneath in theaters with college friends because I was obsessed with all things Michelle Pfeiffer.  My roommate, whom I had gone with, spent a large portion of the film holding on to me or the stranger on the other side of her.  I didn't mind the movie, but I did not appreciate the experience.
     Another friend forced me to watch The Shining.  It was late at night and my walk home involved a cemetery.  I was freaked out for weeks.  It is a good movie, but I would not have been happy watching it by myself.
     I have been told there are sub-genres within scary films; there are horror films, slasher films, and just scary movies.  For me, they all involve going through emotions that are similar to losing your keys in a sewer drain and having rats eat your face.  Or other sets of emotions that I am just not interested in.
     My knowledge of scary movies could fit in an applesauce cup.  I remember watching my first Freddy Krueger film in the basement, then apparently something happened inside that made me never want to see that again, and I just stopped watching them.  Oh, and I think I saw Scream 2, but that hardly counts, because Monica was in it (and Mary says it's awful).  

The Printing Saga Continues

     Now I'm out of paper.  Argh!  Printing should not be this hard.  If it's not one thing, it's another.  I bought the ink I needed.  I set up the parameters on the computer to print in gray-scale and bypass that pesky Cyan problem.  And now, there's no paper.
     The nagging part of being out of paper is that paper isn't really that hard to come by.  I'm surrounded by it.  I never run out of paper at work.  It's always there, just popping out of the printer whenever I need it.  I get lulled into this false sense of paper-availability security.  I expect it to always be there.  But then I go home and I press print and that little HP son-of-a-bitch just blinks at me.
     I've actually spent the last day thinking "where do I even buy paper?"  This is probably unreasonable.  I'm not looking for ancient paper, or a case of dot-matrix-style paper; I just need regular old printer paper.  I bet I could find it at CVS or about any of the fifty stores I walk passed on a daily basis.  Still, I get anxious.
     Basically, printing has become a major source of stress in my life.