My American Life (3 of 3)
November 2005: Washing dishes after an awesome Thanksgiving dinner complete with yummy desert.
December 2005: The horrid (and condom-looking) National Christmas Tree, which stands right outside the White House fence in Washington, DC. Scary!
January 2006: The Washington, DC studio at its cleanest. This is after the addition of new furniture pieces, a carpet and a television set. So BoHo…
February 2006: Snow on 20th Street; a view from the 8th floor.
March 2006: Soccer on the National Mall in the shadow of the phallus. There is something to be said about playing the game of games in such a setting.
April 2006: The Cherry Blossom Festival. More here.
May 2006: Watching the Washington Nationals get their ass kicked at RFK Stadium on Memorial Day.
June 2006: My mom was visiting DC and we ended up (again!) next to the phallus. An odd bit of trivia: Washington, DC is the only place in the United States that I been to in each of my four years (Thanksgiving in 2003, summer vacation in 2004, lived there in 2005 and 2006, and visited again in 2007). Contrary to this trivia, DC is not my favorite American city.
July 2006 – October 2006: No American life during this time; I was in Romania waiting for an upgrade in my visa status.
November 2006: My room in Boston. Some said it looked girlie. That did not bother me as much as the temperature inside this room. The climate ranged from friggin’ cold to polar winter.
December 2006: Sharing stories and journalism gossip over drinks at Brendan B’s in Jamaica Plain.
January 2007: Whether they come from the corner coffeshop or from Starbucks, I will miss the morning lattes.
February 2007: Violent and sexy roller derby action.
March 2007: Colin Meloy of The Decemberists rocks the Avalon in Boston. This was the last of my American shows and one of the top three. The Decemberists make up most of the soundtrack of my American life, and they are my favorite musical pleasure. For example: And I am a writer, writer of fictions/I am the heart that you call home/And I’ve written pages upon pages/Trying to rid you from my bones. (Picture from here).
