Attack of the Baby Shark

Something crazy has happened in the Nation's Capital. No, the 45 has resigned and no, the GOP hasn't found a spine (if it ever had one). What I'm talking about is even more improbable than either of those things.

The Washington Nationals are in the World Series.

I know. It's wild. The only baseball game I ever walked out of was a Washington Nationals game. It was back in 2006 or 2007 when the Nats were still playing at RFK. I was at a game with my dad and brother and the Nats were awful. They were getting stomped on, and it was painful to watch. Not only we they being stomped on, the game was boring, so we left. As my dad said at the time, it was too hot for boring baseball. But we persisted with our love of the Nationals. They're not our "home" team. That would be the Detroit Tigers, but the Nats are our second home team. Over the years, the Nationals have gone from terrible to decent to pretty good to terrible again to the freaking World Series. Like any fan of a sports team that can't seem to get its shit together, Washington fans have been waiting a very long time for this.

I love baseball. I've written about the game several times here on the Island. It's the only sport I really enjoy watching. I used to feel that way about Saints football, but I'm done with the NFL. Not even my beloved Saints can save that horrible organization. I may not be able to spout stats or tell you every fact ever, but I'm loyal and love a good game. I like people watching at games, and Nationals fans are some of the best fan to watch. If I need a stat or to know the intricacies of a rule, I ask my brother. I love baseball, but he looooves baseball. Going to games with him this season, including Game 4 of the NLCS were some of my favorite things I did this year.

There is something so incredibly pure about the Nationals in the World Series. I've watched many a World Series, but I can't say that I've ever been as invested in one like I am this year's series. The Nationals are the perfect team to have in the World Series at this moment. It's not that the game is any different or the Astros aren't deserving, it's that the Nationals make us all, or at least those of us who love baseball, remember why we do. It's so freaking fun to watch.

Here are some of my favorite things about this season of Nationals baseball:

• We are all Baby Sharks. I don't have kids so I didn't know about "Baby Shark" until one of my friends shared it with me last fall. Her daughter was very into the song, and they went as the Family Shark for Halloween. I admit to singing a version of this song to my cat. Never did I ever expect it to be the song of the Washington Nationals. Geraldo Parra changed his walk up song over the summer to "Baby Shark" partially because his daughter loves the song. Since then, he's been on a hitting streak, the team has been on a winning streak, and adults are willing sing this song in public. Watch a version by the organist at the National Cathedral or maybe this version by members of the NSO. Embrace your inner Baby Shark!
• Nationals Fans I know every team thinks their fans are the best fans, but seriously, have you met Captain Obvious? Or how about BeardedNatitude? Or any of the hundreds of delightful humans lighting up my Twitter feed with wholesome pictures of their rally cats, Nats pups, and their adorable children? I can't take the cuteness. Washington City Paper ran a great article this week about the Nats fan community and it made me so happy to see the sheer joy baseball brings to this area. The DC area is a tough place to live; it's intense in a way people who don't live here don't understand. It can be hard to make friends or feel a sense of community. Going to Nats Park is a community. 
• Dugout Dance Parties.  I don't know about you, but seeing professional baseball players dance in the dugout brings a whole new level of fun to the game. The Nationals have been dancing in the dugout since the summer, and it's so pure. Celebrating success and one another is what makes a team a team. I could (and maybe have) watch dugout dance party videos all day. I even own the shirt.
• Juan Soto is 21 Years Old. Juan Soto seems like a really wonderful human being. He's had and amazing season and has been a huge part of the postseason success of the team. NPR did a great story about him and the impact of Latino players on baseball. Did I mention that he turned 21 yesterday on day three of World Series? Fans signed a giant card for him and sang "Happy Birthday." They may not have won last night, but a great way to spend your 21st birthday: doing what you love, with a team and fan base that love you. 
• The team's affection for one another. This was evident long before the postseason began, but in the playoffs and the World Series, it's become even more evident. This team cares about one another and it shows on the field and off. One of my favorite photos from Game Two was the one of Stephen Strasburg being hugged by Geraldo Parra and Anibal Sanchez. Toxic masculinity is rampant in professional sports, but there's something about this team that cuts right through that. They are living their best baseball lives and it shows in every interaction and in every game. 
• Enjoy your job and other's will notice. I work in learning and development, so I've lost count of the number of times I've told people, both at work and in my personal life, to find the thing they love doing and do that always. I think about this whenever I go to a sporting event, a concert, a play - these are people doing the thing and loving every minute of it. I will never know how it feels to play in the World Series, but I do know exactly how it feels to do something I love and enjoy every minute of it. When I watch the Nats, particularly in the postseason, that's what I see. A team doing the thing and loving the job they have. I'm sure the Astros feel the same way, but I don't see it when I watch them play. Maybe my fandom is getting in the way, but I don't care. These guys are the best.
• Washington sports teams rallying for one another...minus one. The bromance between the Washington Nationals and the Capitals (our hockey team for those who don't follow sports or care) is amazing. That's the only word I can use to describe it. The Nats showed up to support the Caps two years ago when they eventually won the Stanley Cup, and the Caps have been here for the Nats. I love seeing hometown teams support one another; it goes back to the idea of community I talked about earlier. Not only are the Caps and Nats fans of one another, but they've also celebrated the WNBA champion team, the Washington Mystics, and the Wizards have been supportive of the Nats postseason. DC United made it to the playoffs this year, and had a great season. All we're missing is the NFL team, but you know, they're not really interested in being supportive of other teams. Oh well, we don't need them or their hateful owner. Support DC sports - I might even a soccer game next season. Who am I?

I don't know if the Nationals are going to win the World Series. I'll be sad if they lose, and I'll be beyond excited if they win. Enjoy the run. Enjoy the series. And then come back out next season. 

My 40th Year on Earth: Work, Death, and Stuff

I have a realtor.

A few weeks ago, I posted about my perfectionist tendencies and my anxiety around buying my first home. Yes, I'm aware that people buy homes everyday (even if maybe they shouldn't), but that doesn't make it less stress-inducing. Since I shared my post, I've done what I always do: research. I read a bunch of articles about first-time home buying, loan types, the pre-approval process, and even looked at some listings. And then I got very anxious, and asked Keely to cuddle with me. My non-lap cat obliged, bless him, and I felt better. I did nothing, but I felt better.

I should back up a little bit before my real estate anxiety attack. The end of September and beginning of October were a series of unrelated, but actually very related events that have given me some new perspective on life and things (so eloquent, I know). It started with the docent walkthrough of the new Judy Chicago exhibition at the museum where I volunteer. Judy Chicago is one of my favorite artists, and I've been waiting for this exhibit to open. She spoke about it the last time she did an event at NMWA two years ago. The exhibition is called The End: A Meditation on Death and Extinction, and features three sections on grief, mortality, and extinction. With that title, you can imagine what the exhibition is like. It starts with a powerful series based on Kubler Ross's five stages of grief, moves into a personal exploration of one's mortality, and ends with a harrowing look at what we're doing to the Earth. No amount of me describing it will do the exhibition justice, so come visit NMWA to see if for yourself.

So during a walkthrough, the curators take docents and other volunteers through the exhibition and provide insight into the work, the artist, and the exhibition structure. We were in the room focused on mortality when I go to a work entitled How Will I Die #9. The work depicts a woman (Chicago) in bed with a large cat lying next to her. The text in the work reads "Will I die in my own bed with my cat Pete by my side?"

Pete looks exactly like Keely.

Photography isn't allowed in this exhibit, so you have to take my word for it or go see it for yourself. I started laughing, which is a terrible reaction to a very serious subject, but I couldn't help it. I could actually see myself in this image in a way that I've never seen myself in a work of art. It was funny, depressing, bizarre, and comforting all at the same time. A few days later, the museum hosted a Fresh Talk with Chicago and Martha C. Nussbaum, a philosophy and law professor. Nussbaum wrote the essay in the new Chicago monograph about The End. During the talk, Chicago discussed the evolution of her feminism, and the idea of personal and global grief. Listening to the women discuss death and the extinction of the planet was a lot. At some point in the discussion, Chicago said, "If there's going to be change, it's going to be because people take it in their own hands." Obviously, she was talking about the damage we've done to the planet, but like a song lyric, I added my own meaning to this comment. It could be about politics, our personal lives, and my fear of things like buying a house and dying alone in bed with my cat. I can overthink everything or I can just go do it.

A few days later, I attended an event for the release of Patti Smith's new book, Year of the Monkey. This is the third time I've seen Patti Smith live, and the second book talk. (I saw her in concert in 2008 - the start of Old Lady Concert Rules posts.) The new book is a follow up to the book M Train, which was an odd book, told in a sort of stream of conscious way and focused on grief (loss of her husband, damage to her home after Hurricane Sandy). In M Train, Smith travels all over, but it's a focused wandering. Year of the Monkey is a travel book too, but one that blurs "fact, fiction, and dream." It takes place in 2016, a year where Smith lost two very close friends and was working through those losses. I haven't finished the book, which is short compared to both Just Kids and M Train, but it's a little harder to read because I can feel her grief throughout. She talks through the "cycles of death" during the book and her talk. It was a fitting companion to Judy Chicago. Both women were so open about about these private feelings and moments, but in completely different ways. Thinking about death and mortality for several days straight is emotionally exhausting; I can't imagine doing it while writing a book or working on an art exhibition. My brain was mush by the end of Smith's talk/musical performance.

About a week after the book talk, I presented at my first professional conference. My company won an award, and we were invited to take part in a panel during the conference associated with the award. Originally my boss was going to present, but in early September, she asked if I wanted to be on the panel instead. Without hesitation, I said yes. I was in the final stages of preparation for this presentation when the Chicago exhibit opened and Year of the Monkey was released. Imagine having all these thoughts about death and mortality and loss swirling around in your brain while also preparing for a major work event. I'm a very confident public speaker. I like to describe my comfort level as either having "the confidence of a much taller person" or "a mediocre white man talking." I can talk to anyone, especially if I'm passionate about the topic (this is why I'm a great docent). I love what I do, but I've always felt like I wasn't worthy since I fell into a career in learning and development (L&D). Impostor syndrome is real, y'all. I've presented at conferences before, but it was always sponsored by the company I worked for, and my expertise wasn't questioned because I literally helped build the product I was talking about. This conference was nothing like that. I was presenting to other L&D professionals, many of whom have been working in the field their entire careers. I was on a panel with two executives from two other organizations. I've been in a training/learning role since 2008, so I've been doing this for 10 years, but I still felt like the new kid going into the event.

I nailed it. I wore a blazer like a freaking rock star (if rocks stars wore blazers, I don't know their lives). I spoke about the successes we've had aligned our programming with the organization's goals, and shared the lessons we've learned along the way. I answered questions, I discussed strategy, I cracked a couple of appropriate jokes. People came up to me throughout the day and complimented my presentation and wanted to talk more about what we're doing. I've made a bunch of connections professionally. I finally feel like I'm part of the community. I don't think that would have happened had I not joined the organization I'm at today. I've had some doubts since starting, but this event really helped me see the value of the work me and the team are doing. Y'all, I'm a real professional.

What does any of this have to do with finding a realtor? I've been talking about buying a house since the summer, but did nothing about it until this week. I was stuck, thinking too much about everything, getting wrapped up in the stressful parts of buying a house (money, I'm talking about money), hating that I have to do everything by myself, and thinking I can't do it. Having spent several weeks in a row thinking very deeply about some very hard topics and having some real successes made me realize I just have to do this...and I can do this. I don't want to live in a nice, but not great overpriced apartment, dealing with crappy neighbors and stupid community policies (the resident gate is only open until 8 pm - what nonsense is this?). I don't want to pay for Keely to live in my apartment anymore; pet rent is a huge scam. Judy Chicago wasn't talking about buying property when she talked about change, but change only happens when we decide to do it. I want to enjoy where I live. I want to be part of a community. I want my own space. I'm an adult lady who can do things.


Coming soon to the Island: Glitter purse season is back, a Lazy Movie Weekend post, and I start my house hunt.