Walk On By

Having decided to once again participate in mass transit and commute via Metro, I also decided it would be good to walk home from work. The weather has been unseasonably gorgeous the last few weeks, so being outside is actually enjoyable.

My walking route was direct--straight up Georgia Avenue toward home. Boy, what an eye-opener.

When you're in a car driving down Georgia, you certainly see some of the urban blight and the need for economic development on this neglected thoroughfare that connects Montgomery County, Maryland, with the District. But when you're on foot, you see it up close and personal. And sometimes, what you're seeing ain't so pretty.

Which makes me hopeful that the city's announcement that it will invest $100 million in the Georgia Avenue Corridor will actually result in some of the same turn around as has been witnessed in other sectors of the city. It will be a fine balance, for sure. Obviously, you don't want to force out current business owners who have stuck it out through the blight, (although, I wouldn't be all that sad to see the "Girls! Girls! Girls!" Club go, go, go.) At the same time, you also want to encourage new business to come in and generate new sources of tax revenue and employment opportunities for folks.

Either way, my walking days on Georgia Ave may be limited. But not so much by the not-so-pretty stuff I saw, but by the mere fact that walking up that hill at Howard U just about did my ass in!

P.S. I tried to find an old photo of Georgia Ave, but couldn't. I did find this link, though, on the DDOT site. Check 'em out!

Younger, Stupider, and Less Mature

Many years ago--I think when I turned 29--I was working for a publishing company as a temp. My job was to input subscriber information into a database, stuff envelopes, and mail out member information. (I still remember my boss' name from those days: Janine Kitihata. Nicest lady. I wonder where she is these days?)

That year, as has been the norm for many years now, I also took my birthday off as a personal holiday. When I returned to work the following day, one of my colleagues said to me, "So, do you feel older, wiser, and more mature?" To which I laughed and said, "What? As opposed to younger, stupider, and less mature?"

I've been thinking about that a bit lately and wondering if I am becoming wiser and more mature. (Certainly I'm older. There's no not becoming that. You just do obviously. But the other two aren't givens, are they?) I'd like to think I am. But then again, it may just be that living and working in this town has so beaten me down, I'm too tired to fight for my voice any longer.

What I do know about how I've changed, and perhaps even "wised up", is this:

• I no longer say every little thing that pops into my head to everyone within hearing. Some comments, retorts, opinions, etc. are best left unsaid, or only shared with a select few.
• I don't have to have the last word. Sometimes, it's just best to let it go and walk away.
• I don't feel compelled to constantly point out other people's quirks, boo boos, mispellings, and flaws. At least, I try not to.
  
• I've found that when I do focus on the aforementioned, I become judgmental and I end up not liking myself for often being too harsh and petty.
• When others focus on the afore-aforementioned with me, I begin to lose respect for that person. (That's not to say I'm not open to unsolicited opinions or criticisms, but some stuff is just so patronizing and--what was that word a friend of mine used the other day? Oh yes--pedantic and know-it-all, it's tiresome.)
  
• I don't do perfectionism anymore. Particularly because being a perfectionist means, nothing I do or anyone else does will ever be good enough for me. That kind of attitude is equally tiresome and lacks graciousness.
• Empowering people is not a threat, but a gift and it shows a level of self-confidence in oneself and confidence in others that results in people who want to play together and play together well.
• Life is too short, therefore, I wish to fill mine with love, laughter, and good friends. Toxic people just aren't worth it, no matter who they are or what the setting is.

I'm going to stop there, because that's about all the supposed maturity and wisdom I can stand for one day! Thanks for reading.

Photo copyright: Thinker on a Rock by Brian Flanagan, D.C. Confidential (Janet M. Kincaid, 05/07)

For Purple Mountains Majesty...

When I was about 10, I think it was, I asked for a set of watercolors for my birthday. My maternal grandmother was an artist and I loved looking at her work. My parents gave me a set of watercolors--a palette of eight colors: red, yellow, blue, purple, orange, green, brown, and black--and I was thrilled! I wanted to paint with them right then and there! But Mom asked me to wait a few days; Grandma June would be visiting and she could teach me how to use them.

Waiting for Grandma to arrive was almost as painful as waiting for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. It took f.o.r.e.v.e.r. for her to arrive! But finally, she was there. We sat down together with a drawing pad and paints and the tutorial began.

I grew up in Utah, which--if you haven't been there--is very mountainous and has impressive peaks and ranges that are majestic and beautiful. The mountains were our subject that day.

The first thing Grandma did was to sketch a mountain scene in pencil. I recall five or six peaks in the background with a lake and a little hut in the foreground.

Then Grandma asked what color we should paint the mountains. Naturally, I said "Brown." To which Grandma said, "Brown is certainly the color of the dirt and rocks when you're standing on the mountain, but from a distance mountains look purple, just like in the song." In my 10 year old mind I thought, "Purple?! Na-uh." But I obediently went along and watched Grandma carefully add a little water to each of the paint disks. Then she began painting one of the mountains. She handed the brush to me and I painted a little, too.

By the time we were done, we had a landscape that featured "purple mountains majesty above the fruited plains." To this day, when I draw and sketch--which is pretty infrequent and unfortunate--my mountains are shaded purple. When I did the drawing test this morning, I chose mountains because that's what I started with 29 years ago and I guess I was drawing what I know.

I've decided this year I'd like to take a drawing class again. The last class I took was in junior high school and then I stopped. So, here's my goal: by this date next year, when I turn 40, I want to post a drawing of majestic, purple mountains. It's never too late to learn, right?

Take the test here.



Photo copyright: Peakware