I was going to write a post about how, for me, Mother’s Day is worse than being single on Valentine’s Day.
I still feel like I am just visiting D.C. Better yet, I feel like I embarking on another four-year whirlwind of mayhem that is college and will return to NYC for summer break. This all still feels to wildly temporary. I have to consciously remind myself that I live here, that I am a resident of D.C.
This week was probably one of the best weeks yet, for several reasons.
In South Korea, the first question Koreans ask is, “What’s your blood type?”
In D.C., the first question people ask is, “Do you have a bike?”
It feels like some sort of cult that no one warned me about. I guess I need to get a bike. I mean, everyone tells me I need to get one. I don’t know how I feel about that.
It’s 11:30 right now on a Friday night, and I’m in bed. I was about to write that all I can hear outside is nothing, but an ambulance just drove down the street and its siren cut through the silence. A sign that this place is alive…or maybe not.