It occurred to me this weekend, as I strolled past the Smithsonian with my new friend, Sylvia, who also just moved to the Capitol of Power from Planet MyAmi, that I am on a working vacation.
When I first arrived into the bitter cold and snow-covered everything, I thought I was serving a prison term for incurring too much credit card debt. The fact that my “cell” has a jacuzzi tub and a George Foreman grill made it more like a white collar prison, but being completely isolated from my friends and family was enough to make me feel imprisoned.
And then for a while I decided this stint was an “artist’s retreat.” With no distractions, perhaps I could finally focus on my artwork (the Comic Books). But the mind, in and of itself, can be a prison cell. All I could think about was what everyone else was doing…all the fun they were having while I was cold and alone. How pathetic.
Perhaps watching the kites catching the chill March wind around the Washington Monument made me realize I am Mary Poppins, flying from place-to-place, enjoying the people and the events in present-time, not becoming attached to anything or anyone. Life is just the same. We check in one day; travel around and learn as much as we can; and then check out.
So, if I am to treat this stint here in Washington, DC, as a vacation, I should do as many tourist things as possible and plan day/weekend trips to the surrounding areas.
I already did the Virginia vineyards; the Kite Festival, next weekend I’ll check out the Cherry Blossom Festival and cook Easter dinner for Lavonne and Sylvia? Or Lavonne and I will go to Silvia’s sister’s house?
I realize what I am doing here in DC and what I was doing last year in San Francisco and what I will do for the rest of my Winter/Spring semesters is write. It all goes back to the visioning board I created in 2008, but I keep forgetting and getting distracted by my insecurities, other people’s drama, romance, family obligations, money problems, loneliness, depression, blah blah blah.
This clarity is coming after a month of being here. I arrived, knowing I was supposed to come here, but not really sure why. It’s to get away from MyAmi. To fill up on a new story. A new perspective.
In my fourth week of work, I am already thinking of how I will make myself virtual. All I did today was post a Twitter and Facebook status about a conference coming up. I will be solely responsible for creating a content strategy for my client. I will not have to be in the office for this job just like our social media consultants in Colorado and our conference manager in Delaware.
A year ago I was in San Francisco and this year I am in Washington, DC.
There are times when my life makes sense to me but most of the time I’m all, “WTF?”
I find myself in this strange city, among strange people and a strange job…
I am bored. I suppose this is just what is happening now. But I would rather be bored on my own time, not at work.
I should be building a web site right now. Using my skills. Instead, I am sitting here writing.
And so…is this my bad attitude?
How should I be using my time right now?
I am preparing for graduate school, after all.
This job is just to pay off my karmic debt and then I can go back to Miami. Do I know this for a fact? Not really.
I am truly the virtual gypsy character now. When I look at previous posts, starting with 1985 when a hurricane uprooted me from my original home of Long Island, it’s obvious I truly have gypsy blood. My aunt confirmed that my paternal grandmother who I had all those dreams about last year indeed passed down her wanderlust. I like the literary prospects of it all, and I do know my destiny is to transform all this experience into great novels that can sit on the same bookshelf as Isabelle Allende’s “Daughter of Fortune.”
I’m just so superficial sometimes, I can’t seem to write anything of substance, it all comes out blog style, which I am starting to hate because it is so trendy…I also find that I adopt the writing and speaking styles of other people I admire…as I type this I realize I write in run-on sentences and my inner voice suddenly has a British accent as I think of one of my tribe members from London. I shouldn’t be such a biter! Ugh! This is a major symptom of the virtual gypsy, she becomes everything and everyone she is around…
I’ve become a mash-up. Yup. That’s what I am now. The other day I was in the bathtub trying to meditate it all away so that the real me would stand up. But only half of me emerged from the water after about a half hour. I was so frustrated, I just decided it was pointless to find out who I really am, I may as well just create composite personalities out of all the friends and enemies I have accumulated over the years. What else is there to do after work, besides?
One side of me feels that I am stuck in a prison sentence - I am here in DC to pay off my foolish credit card spending during the Bush years; the other side of me sees this time as another artist retreat, just like last year in San Francisco. When I lean more to that latter side, I feel much better. I think of Esmeralda Santiago, the Puerto Rican author I studied memoir writing with last year, who told me she goes to Vermont for 4 months every year just to write. That it’s just how her process works and her husband and two kids just have to deal with life without her during those 4 months. I met her husband and he was so amazing, so fully supportive of his wife and her art. I thought it was because she is so wildly successful and the main breadwinner of the family, but then I found out that they still live like artists. He is a filmmaker and they are by no means financially set even though Esmeralda’s books have become staples of the New York public school curriculum.
Hmmm. I haven’t been able to put the puzzle pieces together until now.
DC is a good city. I live with a 24-year-old hairdresser with long blond hair extensions and blue streaks. She has a dog named Roxy. She is my artistic relief after the M-F, 9-5 office atmosphere where clean-cut hippie academics write research papers about energy efficiency in order to persuade government and business to adopt more eco-friendly policy. It fulfills the activist side of me that was dying in Miami. I like it, the people are very nice, but I am definitely overqualified for the job.
My Femmebot speed doesn’t quite fit so I am glad I still have my other two clients to keep me busy. The goal is to eventually juggle the three in my virtual world while my physical body can be where I want to be…and that’s in Miami -and Orlando with my family…I am missing them more than ever.
I referred to my first two weeks in Washington, DC as the “Honeymoon.”
I had my first fight about money with my new husband (aka, new job) and I had to acquiesce to his (aka, co-workers’) judgment.
What a pill to swallow.
Like a yuppie wife, I spent the weekend trying to find ways to keep myself occupied during the downtime in our relationship - yoga, cooking with my new kitchenware (which includes a George Foreman grill!).
It sounds eerily like marriage. But a gypsy does not marry. She has love affairs with cities.
So don’t get too comfy, Washington. You’re just another lover to me.
In Washington, DC, virtual real estate costs more than it does on Planet MyAmi.
Why?
Because physical real estate costs more, and programmers here have figured out how to dupe clueless federal and non-profit organizations that are still functioning on 20th century paradigms.
Every wish a web publisher has ever requested in the last 15 years since the Internet became a publishing platform has been granted by programmers who LOVE creating solutions. Google it, and you will find a module/component that fits into the various open-source CMS’s out there. Google has shaken up banks, newspapers, the music industry and every other facet of our culture - including virtual real estate.
I can build a dynamic web site with all the bells and whistles for about $5,000. But in Washington, DC, the same web site costs anywhere from $50,000 to $90,000. I could buy a really nice, sporty car for $50,000. And I bought my condo for less than $90,000.
It’s really quite remarkable.
Like a good virtual gypsy, I tried to educate my new client with these facts in various ways. I sent them links to articles, a dummy site that I created in a matter of minutes, offering all the items on their wish list, and showed my ability to hard code by fixing one of their antiquated flat HTML pages.
And yet, they continued to interview web firms that were $25,000-$75,000 out of their price range because they had a consultant who recommended them.
This consultant has 25 years experience and a PHD in computer something or other.
As far as I am concerned, her experience is out of date. Most people who started in this industry that long ago have a disadvantage because their understanding of how the Internet is supposed to work is completely different from a kid who grew up with it.
“You must hate me,” she said at our post-interview debriefing.
“I don’t hate you,” I said. “I just think our experience is different.”
I probably shouldn’t have told her that her 25 years of experience and fancy degrees were her Achilles heel. This was a snot-nosed, Mike TV kind of thing to say, and NOT the way to impress my co-workers, who are now literally afraid of me because I am not trying to play nice-nice with them. It is clear that I am an alien from Planet MyAmi in this Capitol of Power.
After a good scolding from my embarrassed supervisor, I have decided to back off and save the knowledge I have about the virtual real estate industry for my own endeavors, which I will return to in August, just in time for my 35th birthday. 35! I am here to pay off my karmic debt and to learn what I can. If I can keep this attitude, the next few months should be pleasant. I’d rather not make things more difficult by trying to convince an unwilling audience.
I am in DC now. I have a comfy, warm bed and my own bathroom. I am blessed. I am where I am supposed to be.
How do I feel about Washington, DC? Today I feel excited.
I am a virtual gypsy and the thought of absorbing the energy of a new city is part of my health plan.
Planet MyAmi can be toxic if one is overexposed for an extended period of time…which is why I quarantined myself so often. Read the rest of this entry »
