As I may have alluded to in previous blog posts, I've just returned from five months spent in DC. Reconciling my life there with my life back here has been difficult. A very blue, affluent, educated, youthful city is absolutely nothing like returning to red state America. Up there, I wore my self-assigned uniform of black wool pea coat willingly, eager to assimilate for the first time in my life, whereas here I am judged by my Obama bumper sticker by every self-designated macho man in a white pickup truck who wishes to ride my bumper to prove some immature point.
Not that I had much choice in the matter when it came to re-entering this parallel universe. Temporary or seasonal government work concludes with the vaguest of vague promises: "eligible for rehire". What this means, translated literally, is that they'd gladly hire you again if needed, but, as you might expect, this doesn't, of course, mean that they will or that they're even obligated to do so.
Oh, conditions were not ideal. No health insurance. A laughably low rate of pay. $1000 a month for a one bedroom efficiency apartment, with such conveniences as coin-op laundry, a tiny kitchen, refrigerator, and no freezer of which to speak. I didn't miss having to watch my money so closely that even fast food was an occasional treat. I won't miss having to save up for months for new clothes or having to accept the occasional charity of friends and my girlfriend if I was completely broke before payday.
But I didn't have to drive, either. I loved not having to worry about traffic patterns, or lane changes, drunk drivers, wet roadways, or, god forbid, snowy roadways. There was so much to do. Art theaters, interesting talks, live music, and a friend network based on mutual interests that I was beginning to build until I had to abandon it to come back here.
And, lest I forget, I met a wonderful woman who treats me with kindness and respect. These are things I knew I needed and craved but I was so compelled before to seek people who were crawling with issues; people who couldn't really be unselfish or compassionate because they were so damaged themselves. Though at times I still find that appealing, the rational part of my brain overrules whatever perverse longings my loins might crave.
Not that I had much choice in the matter when it came to re-entering this parallel universe. Temporary or seasonal government work concludes with the vaguest of vague promises: "eligible for rehire". What this means, translated literally, is that they'd gladly hire you again if needed, but, as you might expect, this doesn't, of course, mean that they will or that they're even obligated to do so.
Oh, conditions were not ideal. No health insurance. A laughably low rate of pay. $1000 a month for a one bedroom efficiency apartment, with such conveniences as coin-op laundry, a tiny kitchen, refrigerator, and no freezer of which to speak. I didn't miss having to watch my money so closely that even fast food was an occasional treat. I won't miss having to save up for months for new clothes or having to accept the occasional charity of friends and my girlfriend if I was completely broke before payday.
But I didn't have to drive, either. I loved not having to worry about traffic patterns, or lane changes, drunk drivers, wet roadways, or, god forbid, snowy roadways. There was so much to do. Art theaters, interesting talks, live music, and a friend network based on mutual interests that I was beginning to build until I had to abandon it to come back here.
And, lest I forget, I met a wonderful woman who treats me with kindness and respect. These are things I knew I needed and craved but I was so compelled before to seek people who were crawling with issues; people who couldn't really be unselfish or compassionate because they were so damaged themselves. Though at times I still find that appealing, the rational part of my brain overrules whatever perverse longings my loins might crave.