Did That Really Happen?

Amazingly, it is July 3rd and I am still here, still unemployed, still hopeful (at least sometimes). If you had written a plan that would make June as unproductive as possible, I think I followed it, although certainly not purposely. A storm disrupted the cable and internet service at the house for the better part of a week. My phone was only semi-functional for nearly two weeks before I finally received the new one I ordered online (a glitch on the Virgin Mobile website delayed delivery). On June 9th, my SUV bit the dust while I was ten miles away minding my own business. And, of course, on June 22nd, the tragic crash on the Metro further limited my ability to go anywhere. Today marks the first time that the Red Line is back up to speed.

Any of those things, taken alone, would have been a mere inconvenience, but the collective toll on my psyche was fairly substantial. It made it very difficult to establish a useful routine. It was also difficult to maintain my energy and focus.

Also, while I expected this, I have sometimes felt socially isolated. Other than phone and online chats, I've had a total of five conversations that lasted more than fifteen minutes. One was with a very nice attorney who sat next to me at Circa, a cafe at Dupont Circle. The second was with a woman named Joyse (yes, with an "s") who occupied the adjacent stool at the Brickskeller (she had been intending to leave right before I sat down, but ended up staying for two more hours, saying she hadn't expected me to be "so fascinating" - I took that as a compliment.) The third was with Heather, the bartender at the redundantly named Bistro Bistro who slides me free glasses of wine so I will stay and keep her company when the bar is slow. There was a nice visit with Kami who brought me a gigantic spiral cut ham and rolls left over from an event she worked. Lastly, I had an interesting discussion with a black guy named Barron, in which I argued that social divisions in the DC area are more a result of classism than racism (he agreed, eventually). He had grown up in the "bad part" of DC, and then moved up into the Maryland suburbs. He was very bright and likeable.

I rarely see my housemates, and, while I initially thought there might be opportunities to socialize, in the end it's probably a good thing that they are never around. Three people live on the top floor. I have seen one of them twice, for a grand total of ninety seconds. I have seen the other one twice, for about four minutes. I see the third one periodically, mostly when she comes downstairs to reset the wireless router. I can tell when she is home though. She is Asian, and, when she cooks the whole house smells fabulous. The one who lives in the room next to mine is busy with a physical therapy practicum, and, other than that, mostly keeps to herself. This is probably for the best. She is pleasant enough, and we get along fine, but, honestly, we have about as much in common as Elie Wiesel and Heinrich Himmler.

Suddenly, it is July, and all I can do is look back at June and say, “Did that really happen?”

So, one might ask, what is the good news?

Well, it is July 3rd, and I'm still here! Not to be morbid, but I could have been in my car when the tow truck plowed into it, or, worse, on the Red Line train that crashed. I continue to receive tremendous support and encouragement from family and friends. For those of you who have suffered through my caffeine-fueled telephone rants, I truly appreciate it! I have a new phone that appears to be working well. Earlier this week, Comcast contractors buried new cable in the neighborhood that I assume will ensure good internet service. I finally got the insurance check for my SUV (may it rest in peace), and I will probably go car shopping in about a week. Every time I look there are jobs out there, good jobs. All I need is a a touch of good fortune. It's about time for that.

And, today, for the first time, I ran into somebody I know! While walking to the Starbucks just over a mile north of my house, I heard a voice yell (sounding surprised to see me there), "Brian, how are you doing?" It was Murat (yes, that is the correct spelling), someone I know from the Stained Glass Pub - the place right next to the Glenmont Metro station, and, therefore, a logical stopping point for me on certain occasions when I am returning from DC. Murat had just gotten gas, and, as it turned out, coffee from Starbucks, and hollered at me from the driver's seat of his Jeep. We chatted for a few minutes, and made plans to catch up this weekend at the Pub.

Wish me luck. The New Clothing Enterprise continues...

Afterthought: I almost forgot, the Tour de France starts tomorrow. I LOVE the Tour de France. Go Lance!