Friday Five: Signs of Spring in DC

It's been such a beautiful week that I decided to head to the Mall on my lunch break to look for some signs of spring in DC. And within minutes I found all the sure indicators that winter is finally over.

1. Construction: Most of the time it's roads and walkways that are being repaired after the harsh winter weather. Well, harsh for DC anyway. But today I stopped to check out the progress on the new National Museum of African American History and Culture.
   
   
2. Bikers: The other day I was reading a Washington Post article about how the city infrastructure can't keep up with the increase of bike commuters. So if you want to see the city on two wheels, please be careful!
   
   
3. Musicians: I will admit, some street musicians are horrific, but this bucket beater happened to be quite good. Over the years I've been lucky enough to catch a few professional musicians practicing in tunnels and Metro stations because of the fantastic acoustics.
   
   
4. Cherry Blossoms: Today marks the peak of the 100th year of these historic blooms, and any DC-area resident will tell you they are the highlight of the season.
   
   
   
   (This picture was taken by a passing tourist.)
   
   
5. Tourists: More than 16 million people visit out nation's capital each year. I happened to find this one sitting around on the Mall today. (It's my mom, in case you were wondering.)
   

Retraining the Night Owl

All-nighters are kind of a regular thing for me. I get sucked into a good book that I can't put down even for my 40 winks. There's so much on my mind that I can't get any shut eye. A looming deadline means no Z's for me. It's like I don't want to miss any of the adventures, so I can't allow myself to fall asleep.

But all that's changing. Thanks to some health issues and a resolve to improve my lifestyle, I've been early to bed and early to rise for almost a year now. (Old habits die hard, so this isn't always the case, but it is becoming the new normal.) And I've noticed a subtle change: I'm happier in the morning.

This morning I woke up early, and while I couldn't convince myself to go to the gym, there were so many great things about having three hours to myself. The first moments after awakening, I lay in bed for a few moments enjoying the sounds and smells of spring. Then I got to read a book from my grad school reading list and check the newspaper for interesting tidbits. I didn't have to rush through my morning routine or run after the bus. I even had time to pack a lunch and eat breakfast. While nothing in particular made this morning extraordinary, I literally stopped in to middle of gathering my things to leave and thought, "This is the best morning I've had in years, possibly ever."

I once read this book about a character who waffles back and forth between redemption and sin. He can't seem to decide if he's worth saving or even if he can be saved. And for the TV junkies out there, you'll recognize that conundrum as a common theme in the show House. This lack of faith in humanity's ability to change drives me crazy. While current events and statistics might make us doubt that things ever get better, that mentality just isn't true.

When I was in high school I read this quotation: "What I am going to be, I am becoming." (I think Thoreau said it, but as it's been about 15 years since I saw it, I can't confirm that attribution.) This philosophy has quite literally shaped my life. Every choice I make puts a little piece of future-me into place, and every action leads to both opportunities and consequences. I look back on the past 30 years, and I'm in awe of everything that I've been able to do and how different I am because of those experiences.

Maybe that's why I like YA lit so much--the characters are constantly in flux. In these books we see ourselves balanced on the precipice of our own future. It gives us hope people can be redeemed and that the next year, the next decade, the next millennium will be the Golden Age.

As for this night owl, all I really know is that tomorrow morning will be even better.

A Tell Tale Day Trip

It wasn't a midnight dreary so much as a sunny afternoon, but I walked the path of Edgar Allan Poe today. A friend and I went up to Baltimore to visit Poe's grave site and home. While Poe died in Baltimore, he wasn't actually living there at the time but just passing through on his way from Richmond back to New York.

The graveyard was everything you'd expect from the master of horror, only it was just about the sunniest day we've had this year.

Amid crumbling tombs and fading headstones lies the bodies of one of the greatest and most misunderstood American writers.

While the graveyard looks a bit frightening because of its age and exposure to the harsh city elements, it is the final resting place for many great Americans, including James Henry, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence.

Just a mile or so down the road is the home where Poe's writing career first began. He lived there with his grandmother, aunt and two of his cousins, one of whom he married when she was just 13 years old.

(This picture is from the Edgar Allan Poe Society.)

Because the family was living on his grandmother's pension while Poe attempted to make a career of writing, they were often ill-clothed, cold and starving. Probably one of the most interesting things about this house is that the neighborhood in which it's located really hasn't changed much since Poe lived there. While few of the original buildings still stand, it is still a poor, unkempt neighborhood. In fact, the Poe House and Museum shares a wall with a public housing unit and has a police office stationed outside of the door at all times.

I still remember when I first read "Annabel Lee" in middle school. While many of my classmates loved "Fall of the House of Usher" and "A Tell Tale Heart" because of their elements of the macabre, I was much more interested in his stories of love lost and tragic death. At times I feel sorry for Poe and at others I feel I can relate to him because of his openness about his feelings of self-doubt, depression and anger. So many writers of that time were these idolized members of the upper class who wrote because they could, but Poe wrote because he had to.

This had to be one of my favorite day trips. To learn more about and walk the steps of one of my favorite authors was pretty amazing.

Spring is right around the corner?

It almost feels like spring. Almost. Most of the snow has melted, except in those scattered areas where it was once pilled higher than my head. We're starting to talk about the community garden plot we'll be renting this year. And I bought my first concert ticket.

Music really is a huge part of my summer, and I'm excited that my first concert of the year will be to see a local(ish) band that I have been a big fan of since I moved to D.C. So thanks to Shamrock Fest, I'll get to see Carbon Leaf and a bunch of other bands to kick of the concert season.

We've also started going out again. The snow puts a serious damper on getting together with friends, especially in a town where there are about two cars for every one parking space and almost everyone's main form of transportation is the Metro. But Friday we went to Busboys and Poets where the service was horrible but the food and books were fabulous. And Saturday we went to a Korean karaoke bar where I lost my voice signing Beatles and Amy Winehouse songs.

I'm finally feeling human again now that I can leave the house. Bring it on, Spring! I'm ready for you.

Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

Okay, so I didn't have peanuts nor Cracker Jacks, but I did attend my first ball game of the season. I'll tell you, I didn't feel too hopeful going into this game as the Marlins are the top seated team in all of MLB while the Nationals are dead last. The Nats, however, game me hope through the first eight innings, and then it just fell apart at the end.

The fun of attending baseball games actually has very little to do with the end score. It's all about getting behind a team and cheering at their good plays, booing bad calls and yelling at visiting team fans who won't shut up. It's about the smell of roasting hot dogs, the sound of thousands of frantic fan, the sight of the crystal-blue sky and the feel of adrenaline pumping past your ears at a million miles an hour. It's about talking stats with one friend while admiring the posterior build of the catcher with another friend.

The boom of the fireworks, the crack of the ball against the bat and the silence of 20,000 people holding their breath during that last desperate play. For the love of the game and for the love atmosphere, I could sit in a ballpark every day through September (keep your fingers crossed for October) and be happy. Nothing could have welcomed in Spring quite like attending a baseball game. Win or lose, may there be many more to come before Fall.