DC, Improper.

It has been a while. I have been avoiding this blog, both on purpose and not on purpose. On purpose because there are other importances which have claimed my attention - like supposedly studying for the GRE, most unsuccessfully, I might add. By not on purpose I mean that there hasn't been a ton of stuff very interesting to write about. This could be both good and bad. Right now, I can't decide which. Things have been right boring, actually, around DC proper. The typical getting up for work, bill payage, a wee bit of softballing, a productive and mildly altering trip to Atlanta, and no reading. Besides one book in particular that left me so unsatisfied and jaded that I have commitment anxiety when it comes to selecting a book and actually sticking to reading it. The most exciting thing about the last month was the purchase of my blackberry, which has left me feeling more accessible (and, oddly, vulnerable) that I have, ever.

Until - this week. Shit got shockingly and quickly VERY eventful. And there was really no time to adapt.

Something most improper happened this week in Washington. We all know what happened, and I am fairly certain you, reader, are as jarred as I am. Especially if you use and rely on the metro everyday.

Apparently I got a little too comfortable on the metro. That's the only reason things like this happen, right? I suppose. We get settled with our newspapers and ipods, our comfy curl-ups by the window after a tiring day. We sit, we ride, we get up, and we go home. Personally, I had begun to fall into a routine and expect that my metro ride would be the place where I could wind up in the morning and mentally veg and prepare, and wind down in the evening - even close my eyes if I was lucky enough to nab a seat, and ride the day out to whatever I'd chosen as jammage in my ears.

The order has officially been upset. And I, amongst tens of thousands of others, I presume, have been feeling it all week. The day of the crash force me and a friend to run for a bus, not knowing where we'd end up (we were ultimately successful). Tuesday's ride was awkward. Do I get on the first car? The last? Would I rather stand than put myself in harm's way? Then came the dreadful, hot, crowded commute home on Thursday, during which fainting was a strong possibility for all involved - until of course we were offloaded one - one - stop before mine.

On top of it, rude wench bitches apparently reside on Metro, even when everyone should understand that flexibility should be the rule, not the exception. I got on the metro this morning and my 5 foot 5 self, unable to reach a ceiling or anything else to grip, politely (I thought?) asked a woman next to me if I could steal a slice of the rail she was gripping like she was on the Anaconda at King's Dominion. She turned around, looked at me and said "I don't know where you want me to go" and turned back around and ignored my request.

Harlot!

To make matters worse, when an unsuspecting gent got up from his seat near by, this chick had the nerve to box me out and take the seat.

Wrong. Everything about this week has been wrong.

Especially the death toll. Upon walking through the door this evening, I realized that I was aware of 12 newsworthy deaths in one effing week. Nine poor souls on the metro just trying to get to their destination on an average Monday afternoon. Ed McMahon, who I fear has been unfortunately forgotten. Farrah Fawcett, who we all knew was coming to the end, but hated to see it nonetheless.

And then there was Michael. I forced myself to deny what CNN, the Washington Post, and TMZ were reporting (because let's face it, who takes TMZ seriously?). Certainly Michael was not gone too. But he was. And it made this week so much more depressing than I ever wanted or could handle. I received confirmation of his death while I was standing against the wall of my hot ass metro car, sweating marathon-worthy sweat, and was stricken. The week was ending and essentially nothing good had happened. And now, on top of it all, the guy I'd heard the first time I ever turned on a radio in my life was dead. I'm sorry, what? How is this real?

Waking up Friday, it was reality. The alarm on my stereo went off, I heard Michael's voice and knew this wasn't bullshit. His face was splashed all over every news channel, and even Serena Williams was talking about it. I got to work and was already exhausted, debating seriously whether or not I should just hang it up and go home. Somewhere in the building a drill began its daily routine and I put the ipod on to block out the song. Michael.

Two of my favorite memories came to mind. The first was, of course, my first memory of Mike. My dad gave me a tape (yes, a cassette tape) of "We Are The World" - which I proceeded to play over and over, and sing with my dad in my room before I went to bed at night. The damn thing unraveled and We Are The World nights ended. But I am not surprised that Michael brings to mind a great memory with my father.

The second memory was slightly more embarrassing. I was on a family trip to New York. All the usual suspects were in tow: Wendy and Greg, and the grandparents of the Bailey variety. I had recently procured not only my first disc man, but the Michael Jackson HIStory (volume 1) double album. Feeling grown at the age of 12, I decided that I wanted to sit alone on the train ride to New York and enjoy some Michael on my own. Halfway into the trip or so, one of my favorites came on - Rock With You. I was so unaware of my own excitement at the song that I didn't realize until the song was over that my entire family was staring at me. Apparently I was so into it that I was serenading the entire train with the lyrics to this song. It was embarrassing and totally hilarious.

But that's what Mike does - he makes you want to sing, he makes you want to dance. He makes you happy and puts you in a good mood. His music is capable of fixing broken things - like broken, improper weeks such as this. So I got home today, watched some of the tributes on VH1, and proceeded to jam to Michael for the rest of the night. Because it's obvious I needed a little boost.

A shame, though, I remembered this a bit too late.