fiona apple still rocks, obviously

This morning I thought about the ways in which we define ourselves in relation and in opposition to various things. This is especially salient in DC, where how we define ourselves also dictates how we decide to process and act on new pieces of information (think tankers think of the next report to write, organizers think of the next meetings to call and people to outreach to, funders like me start making mental lists of places to fund). For me, this has recently been in terms of geographic location. In Maine, where I grew up, I always felt a little off, and in California, people would always tell me that I never seemed like I'm from Maine. None of this is of any consequence, except that I've always seen myself closer to the urban side of the spectrum than, say, my family, who moved to Maine to build their own house. Anyway, for the first time in my entire life I called that into question as I walked to work today. The reasons?

1) blood on the sidewalk. the savagery of thinking that steps from where I slept, someone's skin was punctured enough to draw drops and even dried pools of blood. I don't know why or how or when, and I am supposed to walk on and buy some burritos or maybe delicious not fair trade and overpriced coffee (yes my weakness) instead of care. Granted, most mornings I do walk on, but today it made me feel uneasy.

2) close to death man. i feel like i should give him a nickname. he has many cuts on his head and his hair has dreaded into one single shield. he always sits on the bench at bus stops, smelling so strongly of urine and shit that when he sits down, I've seen people get up out of their seats and even walk several feet away from the bus stop. I have seen a bus driver close the door in his face. He will often jerk himself off on the bench, but it never seems repulsive in the same way as a guy that'll motion for you to come watch while he jerks off in his car. it reminds me that i'm not a city person, though, because as moving as this brazen display of the fallibility of the human spirit may be because it may remind me of common attributes that we all share, it still strikes me nearly every time that this man could be very close to death. more striking is of course that we all look out the window as the bus speeds by on a 30 degree day.

I have been suffering as of late. I am torn between wanting to do something to better myself at my job, as a person, in my career, and thinking that wanting all of these things are incredibly selfish. My board meeting was distastrous and painful and reminded me that I am not confident and that I have a lot farther to go in professional development; it also reminded me that I don't want to be involved in the funding world forever. I have a good friend that is always involved in so many campaigns and always pushing himself; I, like so many other people I know, have an intense fear that if I stop for just a second, if I don't have a fatherly hand pushing me that I will cease all activity. I am tired of protesting for the sake of protesting. I feel like an updated version of the 11 year old that listened to Nirvana and wrote in my diary about how I'd never have friends in this cruel world. Maybe not so updated.

Big raves: fiona apple's new cd, which was leaked to salon (audiofile) fucking rocks! Jonathan Safran Foer rocks, bruce springsteen's speech at the induction of u2 into the rock and roll hall of fame rocked even in its awkward way, also very oddly moved me during my workout this evening. it's kind of confusing why i'm using the term "rocks". pizzeria paradiso, where i had a lovely dinner with a lovely friend, was scrumptious. life is good, despite the silly existential quandaries which make it almost worth continuing.

need to not be looking at a computer for a little while.