Thursday morning I fit the remainder of my worldly possessions in my tiny, two-door Saturn and drove home. Today, I fit ten weeks in a suitcase. I am all about downsizing.
Tomorrow afternoon I will be in DC, have a happy reunion with T., and then apparently go to some sort of free musical event at the Smithsonian (which can only be nice, after sitting on airplaces and in airports all day). I just really like the phrase “free musical event at the Smithsonian,” and hope DC, while appearing to have somewhat crappy options in the way of lodging, offers more in the whole free cultural event realm.
Things are moving oddly quickly (work starts Tuesday) and I was heavily disheartened today at the mall, when my mind was consumed for the majority of the experience with whether or not to buy a blazer. Does a person need a blazer to be professional? Of course, I then ritually followed the course to existential horror and frustration — Am I joining a line of work in which I am defined by what I wear? Is my potential blazer more important than me? Am I conforming to some stupid industry standard that seeks to squelch all hints of personality from my appearance and reform me into an automaton?
I sort of won by finding a very, very inexpensive blazer and settling for that (ha!). Let’s hope the Blazer Crisis of 2011 isn’t representative of The Future for me. Knowing basically nothing about adulthood, I find myself routinely horrified and plunged into despair when confronted with phenomenally mundane stuff. It then becomes part of the norm. (For what it’s worth, I also remember the rage I felt when I first received tax forms at 17 or whatever. How could I, a mere babe, be expected to pay taxes?!)
I have to get up in not a whole lot of hours, so bedtime it is. DC will doubtless bring a lot to write about, both professionally and in terms of, I don’t know, the nightlife. Oh yes, I will experience the nightlife.