Sunday, February 1, 2009

music makes the people smile

On Sunday we attended the fabulous "We Are One" concert at Lincoln Memorial. We wandered about halfway up the reflecting pool (in the dry area, called the grass) about 11 a.m. But judging on our present need for food, we decided that time and activity would only increase this necessity. So off we went in search of sustenance.

Why the hell doesn't this Mall have a food court? Can I get an Amen? Amen! Amen!

(I am getting ahead of myself in capturing these memories!)

By the time we wandered back, the Mall was overflowing with people. So we found ourselves standing in between the World War II Memorial and the Washington Monument. How far is this? Far enough to really appreciate our view on Tuesday.

I think the best word I've come up with is "surreal." I was watching these incredible performers on a large screen, but they were relatively close to me. But not close enough to see, really. I did hear Joe Biden (oh, Joe Biden) on the speakers a split-second before I saw him on the screen. Does that make sense? I'm saying I knew I was there, and so was Bono, and Stevie Wonder, and assorted celebs giving cheesy odes to Lincoln.

But it was pretty cool.

It turns out that Garth Brooks is actually an amazing entertainer. I don't know why he included "singin' whiskey and rye" each refrain - pretty sure alcohol is still front and center in those phrases - but I forgave him and happily sang along. And who didn't sing a little bit louder now when he covered "Shout"? Yes, now I remember. I really am here in D.C., celebrating the inaugural events with hundreds of thousands, and millions in spirit.

Sweet.

Speaking of rhythm and blue-oohs!, it is possible to feel star-struck watching a Jumbotron:

Stevie Wonder is my hero.

the offer

I happened to be turning 25 years old on the 15th of January. It seems significant. It sounds cool. And I wanted to celebrate in grand style, naturally. But I hadn't thought of anything epic enough to mark the occasion.

I guess there's always Europe.

But by chance, my darling friend Stephen, college buddy and Obama youth vote organizer extraordinaire, called me up for coffee a few weeks ago. Over my green chai and his mocha we discussed our future plans.

Damn you economy.

We're both pretty optimistic, actually. Also, smart. Hire us!

Anyway. He mentioned that he would be attending the inauguration of our dear president-elect, Barack Obama. And he had an extra ticket.

Luckily, my schedule was pretty open.

Our plans fell into place pretty quickly. Sure, I didn't have a place to stay until 3 days before we left, but a friend of a friend offered us the empty rectory of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Arlington, Virginia.

We drove out with a couple of friends. There was snow, but we made it.

And here is where I'm losing inspiration. I don't think every single detail in chronological order will be that interesting to you, dear reader, or me, dear writer. But there are several moments that stick out from the days in D.C.

Let me see if I can capture them.

oh but I don't KNOW what to SAY

Anne Lamott talks about the importance of writing, if I may be so French, "Shitty first drafts."

I hope I don't offend, but I curse a lot in real life. Except when I'm around people who curse all the time (usually inserting four-letter words, coupled with "-ing" into sentences as adjectives. I hate that).

Anyway, sometimes I don't write much because I am so terrified of writing something horrible and being eternally judged by my otherwise loving family and friends for my lack of brilliance.

Yeah, that happens, like, all the time, I'm sure.

I was a creative writing major, after all. I am supposed to be good at this. Yet I find myself postponing writing anything because I can never conjure up something that measures up to my standards.

I am trying to break this habit.

Especially because I happen to feel inspired to write, like, on an hourly basis. I don't think that happens to everyone.

Also, I had a pretty incredible experience recently. So I think I might write about that, for posterity's sake, you know. (Feigning humility here.)

The inauguration. It's a celebration, bitches, and I got to party it up. And by that I mean stand in the cold and break into tears and catch bronchitis.

It was epic.