The DC Files

8 Oct

After 7 years and 8 months of living in DC, I am moving back to Tampa, Florida.  I am not thrilled to be returning to Tampa.  I left then to start my life.  A life that was more reflected who I felt I was at the core: someone who needed what a northeastern city offered.  DC provided much of what I sought at the time: people that were educated and international, houses with wood floors and historical character, streets lined with old trees, public transportation, posh bars and lounges with well dressed people, and a varied stream of activities to fill one’s calendar.

My time in DC allowed the person I felt I was at the core to grow to reach the surface a bit.  In general, I found the right people, places and activities, and ignored the wrong ones.  DC served as the setting for my late 20s and early 30s and the associated flux in friends, boyfriends, social circles, career satisfaction, hobbies, ambitious life plans, and waist circumference.

Aside from my wonderfully loyal and surprisingly supportive friends, I will miss living in Adams Morgan most of all.  My next few posts will summarize what I will and will not miss about DC, and why I’m leaving.  For now I’ll say that while it is incredibly sad to leave, and I’m fearful for who I may and may not become in Tampa, it was not a hard decision to make.  More to follow!

New Look New Purpose

3 Oct

I have had this blog for over 5 years.  It has taken many forms and directions that have served several temporary functions (journaling a trip to Paris, my wallet detox, my TV hiatus), but never had a permanent identity, theme, or purpose.

lixlove.com will now function as my home website and blog.

  • My blog: I will continue to write blog posts, hopefully more frequently now that I’m unemployed. These will likely continue to be project or theme based.  My next series of posts will be about my move from DC to Tampa.
  • Write Your Own Script: I’m changing my career, how I live my life and how I view my life.  It has been a crying-into-my-tumbler-of-wine, pounding-the-head-on-the-desk, and desperately-searching-for-answers-and-guidance-on-the-web kind of experience.  Listen to my advice, take some of it, leave some of it, and do your own damn thing.
  • Love Wellness: Short articles on a variety of health and wellness issues.

 

Links to all blog posts will be available here at lixlove.com.

Back On The Wagon…Sort Of…

7 Apr
Since last week’s mini-meltdown that led me to throw away nearly three weeks of my Lenten TV hiatus in a succulent orgy of Netflix streaming and reality programming, I’ve been feeling much better though not rejuvenated. I’ve discovered that one of the biggest things I miss about TV is its presence. My basement apartment can be maddeningly silent. The footsteps of my upstairs neighbors are distracting but welcome, as it feels eerie being in the house completely alone. They might hear me if I have to scream. 
Weekends without TV can be particularly quiet. Without windows that look upon the street, sidewalk, or even the back yard (my two windows face the brick wall 2.5 feet away), my apartment has no sense of movement or life. It is not only quiet, but still – like the place was abruptly abandoned by people on the run. To cope, I’ve constructed a few cheating crutches to bring me through. 

The Sound of Silence

On Sunday I was cooking up a storm (plenty of time to make chili while not entranced by a Law and Order: Criminal Intent marathon). The silence and the stillness started to give me the heebie jeebies. I put on the radio and maybe I simply found the news about Libya to be a bummer, but the heebies and the jeebies remained. I put on the TV. I have an old analog TV so it makes that nice little electrified bwong click noise when I hit “power”. With nothing interesting on, I couldn’t bring myself to face the stillness, so I just put it on mute and returned to my chili. It worked. I felt comforted, like I had my rhythm back. As Mick Jagger said in the song that accompanied that tedious remake of Alfie starring Jude Law, old habits die hard. Through years and years of endless hours of telly, it has infused itself into my senses.  My TV is like the Borg – I have been assimilated. 

Not this Borg
This Borg

Sunday Exception
I distinctly remember being able to skip Sundays during Lent. The season is 40 days and 40 nights, not counting Sundays. Now, I’m sure this has something to do with old-time Lenten traditions of undergoing serious fasts and allowing the poor church patrons to eat a little something on Sunday so they had enough energy to get to church and sit through service. I’m also sure that Jesus didn’t “take breaks” from his fasting. Neither here nor there, when I was a kid I was allowed to skip Sundays and I’ve opted to continue what may be a family tradition or simple adult delusion. So on Sundays, I eagerly watch Top Chef and shamefully click through the channels delaying the moment when I have to press the power button and enter into silence.

Off The Wagon

30 Mar

Dear Readers:  It pains me to inform you that I fell off the wagon from my TV and DVD fast.  The past few days had been hard.  Even though my apartment has been devoid of the obnoxious sounds of chicken wing and beer commercials, TV’s absence has been disquieting.  Putting it on is somewhat centering – it buys me time before I have to figure out what I want to do with my day or evening.  Now that center, which doesn’t seem to be easily replaceable with the radio or magazines, is missing and I’m a little off-balance.

Wednesday was a hard day for me at work.  I don’t mean to disrespect my job or my colleagues, but some days I experience a perfect storm of feeling bored, angry, frustrated, imprisoned and cold – each feeling exacerbating another.  There’s too much to say about these feelings to explain it here, but I’ll say that I had a lot of those regrettable days last year.  I thought I had figured out how to navigate through those storms, but I failed yesterday’s test.

After my second solo movie during Lent, I found the crowd of Caps fans leaving the Verizon Center – collectively distracted with children, cigarettes, hunger and intoxication – a little disarming.  This is not a time when being invisible is helpful.  I started to cry on my walk home.  Maybe I needed to cry earlier in the day, but it came out then.  After a few sobs and an angry tirade to the back of the 52 bus that zipped past me and another WMATA rider without stopping, I pulled it together.

Of all the celebrity pics that resulted from a Google Images search for “off the wagon” this was the most awesome

At home, I poured some red wine and nuked some leftovers.  ”I’ll just watch a few Daily Show clips until I finish eating and head to bed.”  A few clips turned into a full episode, which turned into a full episode of Colbert Report, which turned into a full episode of Bethenny Ever After (yes, I watch it and I love it), which turned into Eat, Pray, Love on Netflix, which turned into more wine and and more sobbing.  Pathetic? Maybe.  If there’s a realistic theme in Eat, Pray, Love, its that we can feel emotionally overwhelmed even under perfectly livable circumstances – or maybe its just me and Elizabeth Gilbert sobbing at the Ground Zero of our comfortable middle class lives.  Since that book sold a gazillion copies, I refuse to believe that it’s just the two of us.

As I watched my shows on my laptop in bed sipping my wine, I felt great.  ”I’m back, baby!” I said to my cat, snapping my fingers in the air as I did a little dance of victory.  The juice was back in my veins.  I didn’t care about the three weeks I had put in, or my three readers I might disappoint.  I lounged in a bath of aaaahhhhh!!! and it felt good.

But I’m not done.  Today is a new day and I’m hopping back on the wagon.  One thing I wanted to get out of this experience was more mindfulness, and while I’ve put in more time on the meditation cushion, I feel that there’s more room to grow.  I also hoped to gain a new coping mechanism for bad days – something to replace staying up half the night in a TV-Malbec Haze.  Maybe I won’t find anything during Lent or during my life, but if movies and booze are all I have, then I suppose its better than nothing.

Legal Eye Candy

23 Mar
Longing for the minimal brain power expenditure that TV requires, and just wanting to see my good buddy, BB,  I joined her to see The Lincoln Lawyer, which wasn’t half bad.  I have a few words for the cast:

Matthew McConaughey 
1. Your name is difficult to spell.  I had to Google it. 
2. You still look alright, alright in a wife-beater


Ryan Phillipe
You still look good but I didn’t forget that you cheated on that cute Reese Witherspoon.  You dog!  
2. Wait, are you going out with Rhianna? Where have I been?



Marisa Tomei 
1.Thank you for not botoxing your face to death and still looking super sexy. 
2. I completely forgot that you were on A Different World.



Josh Lucas
Hey…how you doin’?


Bryan Cranston
1. I’m sorry you were so underutilized in this movie
2. Loved you as Dr. Tim Whatley on Seinfeld!

3 Days of Fail

21 Mar

Saturday: I left off my blog on Saturday night. I was ruminating on whether to stay in listening to the Danes upstairs have a fancy-pants dinner party or dragging my ass out to salsa lessons. I pleased to report that I went with the latter, though mediocre dance partners and a somewhat dry brownie at Tryst were an unwelcome let down after my tiny act of bravery. I tried, and while I didn’t fail, I passed. As a lifelong B- student…I’ll take it.

Sunday: This is my cheat day. Lent consists of 40 days and 40 nights not counting Sundays. Growing up, we were allowed to cheat on Sundays, so for the past two Lent Sundays, I’ve watched Top Chef. This week I also indulged in a little March Madness streamed online. My day was disjointed. I hadn’t planned what I wanted to do with the day – usually I watch TV – so I was left off-center and strangely disoriented. I was lost in a familiar place. A million things to do but I couldn’t figure out how to start any of them. I spent the day feeling anxious, then nauseated.

Monday: Today is difficult. I stayed up late Sunday night finishing my book so now I’m quite tired. I already made myself a little cocktail so I’m not in the mood for yoga. Worst of all, I’m having a little personal mini-drama that I can’t get off my mind. More than any day, this is the day for TV or a movie. A welcome distraction. At 7:40 it is too early to go to bed.  I’m too tired and tipsy to do my taxes.  I’m too emotionally haywire to write (current blog post excluded). I’ll have to be extremely resourceful to keep myself entertained for next hour before I can take a Tylenol PM and call it a day.

Just Gotta Have It

19 Mar

In my Lenten TV and movie fast, I’ve experience two types of cravings:

1. Program-specific:  I woke up the other day with a strong urge to watch Pulp Fiction.  The dream that spawned this craving was forgotten.  The urge was clear and present.  I haven’t seen Pulp Fiction in a while.  What a great soundtrack.  Royal with cheese!  Outside of my Lent experiment, I would have either sought it out on Netflix or Amazon satiating the beast.

 I’ve seen Pulp Fiction many times.  There are many movies I have seen many times: Rain Man, Dead Poets Society, Dirty Dancing, Six Degrees of Separation, Goodfellas, to name a few.  Like certain cheeses call for certain wines, certain moods or days or occasions call for different trips down memory lane.

2. The sheer relaxing pleasure and comfort that comes from sitting in front of the TV.  It’s Saturday night.  I didn’t make any plans.  I’m home listening to the couple that lives upstairs entertain guests.  Under normal circumstances I would watch a movie or two and not worry about finding another way to entertain myself.  But now I have to decide if I want to stay in and try to be productive or if I want to be brave and go out alone.  TV and my DVDs are good friends on nights like these.  Now they’re on vacation and I feel a little lost.  Look at Uma lying on her bed with a pistol and a ciggie.  She looks disgusted by my pathetic insecurities.  Bored by apathetic social life.  Me too, Uma!

Will I stay in, get some writing done and perhaps the laundry?  Will I head over to Habana Village for salsa lessons?  I’ll report back tomorrow.

No TV? Hit the Town

17 Mar

Town Tavern, to be specific.  Not to get all uppity about it, but Town Tavern is not my kind of place.  Too young, too loud, too crowded, and too much Bud Light.  What it lacks in both posh-lounge sophistication and dive-bar appeal, it makes up for in proximity.  I’ve lived in Adams Morgan, close to 18th street for 7 years.  There’s no reason why I should be holed-up in my apartment most nights of the week.  But TV turns staying in from a defeatist compromise to an acceptable option.  

I was out for two hours and had a good time.  I had a glass of wine, watched a little college basketball, talked to some new people, but most importantly caught up with a good friend.  I’m glad I left the house and I probably would not have done it if I had NBC comedies to keep me occupied.

Today is day 8.

Hopefully, Day 6 is the Hardest

15 Mar
Huffpost Time

Today was a typically dull day at the office. I read my emails and responded to them. I read the latest reports and summarized them. I read and typed. I read and typed some more. I looked busy and productive. Job well done. I find these days emotionally exhausting. At some point in the late afternoon, since I can’t whip out the newspaper or my book, I turn to the Internet. The office drone’s compatriot in procrastination and secret weapon for giving the appearance of productivity without producing much of anything.

Couch Potato Time
I leave at 5:00. I can’t bear the office any longer. The emotional exhaustion has turned to physical fatigue. I wait for the bus in the cold wind. I walk home, tired and deflated. In my apartment, I want to sit down, order delivery, and veg in front of the TV with a glass of wine until it is time to go to bed and start the sad routine over again. Today I can’t. I gave up watching TV and movies at home for Lent. Today is day 6.

I Want My MTV Even Though I Don’t Really Like It
For many years I have been frustrated with several aspects of my TV watching habits. Having the TV on for the feeling of company or just from the habit of always having it on. Watching episodes of TV shows I’ve seen hundreds of time. Endlessly flipping through the channels (or my DVDs) hoping to find something tolerable to leave on to avoid turning the TV off. Having the TV on rather than finding something else to do. I want to get rid of the crutch TV is providing in my life. I don’t have to find anything new or different or interesting to do with the only free time that I have so long as I’m “watching TV” – “catching up on my shows”.

Nothing Lasts Forever

I love TV shows and movies. I will never give them up. That is not my intention. I want to see what I might do with my time if I don’t have TV watching to fall back on. I was lucky to have an out-of-town guest for 4 of the past 6 days. Today was the probably the most challenging day – but not nearly as miserable as I thought it might be.


Time Is On My Side
One thing I plan to do with my time is make more blog entries, including blog entries about my Lenten journey. Will I make it to more yoga classes? Write more? Read more? Finally get my turntable fixed? Start a new hobby? Spend more time with friends? Fall of the wagon and engage in a weekend binge-bender of Sex and the City? Stay tuned.

How Did Jared Stand It?

22 Dec

With a beautiful day just on the other side of the glass, nothing sacks one’s youthful spirit for excitement and glamour, one’s boredom-borne impulse to start sucking the marrow out of life, one’s secret desire to be transplanted into the dead center of the life they were truly meant to live, than eating a Subway sandwich at your desk for lunch.

This sad little sandwich reminds me of everything I dislike about my life.

Yet another result of poor planning and oversleeping. I look forward to very little in my workday. If I managed to get to work on time the possibility of enjoying a lunch break exists. Even packing a brown bag lunch affords you the opportunity for some culinary creativity, and perhaps lends an air of retro-hipster irony (…maybe a Fraggle Rock lunch box).

Dull, ordinary and uninspired. I request my toppings with the same monotony I would use to rattle off the days of the week. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Onions. Olives. Cucumbers. Mayo. Mustard.

Oh so safe. Subway provides the affordability of McDonald’s without the guilty pleasure of eating something greasy, salty and deliciously non-PC among the ever-exciting McDonald’s clientele. In addition, you get an amalgam of nameless and homeless processed nutrients that is acceptable for the calorie-counting tips in the “your bony ass is never bony enough” women’s magazines.

Thrown together. My sandwich isn’t thoughtfully crafted by artisans. With too many onions on the end up by the slice, too few cucumbers down near the crunchy tip, and mustard only available when you happen to bite into the side of the sandwich with the condiment squiggles, my turkey and provolone (on white, of course) is slapped together such that it just meets the bare minimum standard to qualify as a sandwich.

I fear my life has become all these things: dull, safe, uninspired. A polo shirt with khakis. A Saturday afternoon spent watching Cast Away on TNT for the 10 millionth time. A silver Honda Civic. Those compartment-filled black work totes they sell at Filene’s Basement for $39.99. All perfectly acceptable and often practical, but all together begin to paint a portrait of someone that I don’t believe resembles me today and I don’t want to grow into in the future. A Portrait of the Artless as a Young Woman. I hesitate to make a Joyce reference since I have not read him – something I could have done instead of watching Cast Away.

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