Jessica McFarland

Today, class, we are going to learn the difference between Washington (state) and Washington, D.C.

Don’t feel bad if you don’t know this already. I’ve met Americans who need this explained to them. Actually, it seems a bit lazy, naming two places after the same guy. Why do we have two big Washingtons, but the only famous “Lincoln” is the capital of Nebraska? (I mean, except for the original one, of course, but most of our place names come from Britain, and that’s another story.)

Okay, here we go. Washington, D.C. is a city. It is the capital of the United States of America. It has the White House and Congress and lobbyists and protesters, and it looks like this:

Washington State is, well, a state. One of 50. As a state, it has its own capital, Olympia, and many other cities and towns, the most famous of which is Seattle (for unleashing Starbucks on the unsuspecting planet). It is also home to Seattle’s grubbier cousin, Tacoma, as well as Forks, a small town which was unknown until an insultingly awful series of novels was set there. I don’t have any photos of Washington State, but here’s an artist’s representation:

With me so far?
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I was born in Indianapolis, Indiana in the early 1980s.

And then we moved away when I was two. So I shouldn’t remember it.

Well, of course I don’t remember being that young. But I do have plenty of memories of Indiana, most of them in some model of Toyota.

For those of you who are not familiar with the geography of the U.S. midwest, I’ll give a bit of background. A map of Indiana looks like a spider web of giant highways (map below). This is because it is conveniently located between most places and most other places.

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Yesterday I spent a good couple of hours looking at swimsuits. (All in a day’s work.)

After a while, the strangest thing happened. I suddenly had this wild and weird urge to be in Florida.

Now, I’ve felt like I’ve needed a vacation for quite a while now. The weather is usually cold or windy or rainy or some depressing combination of the three here, and I inevitably spend the rare occasional sunny day indoors. It’s supposed to be summer, and what’s more, my American upbringing has implanted the desire for 3 months off deep in my psyche.

But Florida, really? I had no idea my situation was that bad.
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I have escaped London for Somerset (see figure 1). As I write this, I can feel the stress of living in the capital letting go and drifting away through the open window. Good riddance.

So today I’m going to write about something nice. I feel I need it. For the past several days, every time I look at the news it seems there is some new and previously unimaginable horror in the world. I continue to be, well, frankly impressed at how awful we can make life for ourselves and for each other.

So I’m taking a stand against it. The revolution starts here:

Right now, it is late May, and therefore, early summer. Contrary to all my previous experience of this country, it is pleasantly warm today. There are quite a few clouds, sure, but the air is still bright. There is a gentle breeze blowing. The trees are in full leaf, and they are swaying gently to it, as if it is a song they love but haven’t heard for a very long time. (more…)

Summer is approaching; the days are getting longer.

When I was younger, in Illinois, this was sort of background to the main event, which was that the days were getting hotter. Much hotter. (I would go so far as to say, too hot, if there is such a thing.)

Yes, there was a big difference in the amount of sun in the evenings, once we made the switch to Daylight Savings Time, but other than that, the increasing length of the days was something to be casually noticed.

Not like here, in Britain. (more…)