First days in DC

I was walking to pottery class tonight in the dark, at about 9 p.m. It was odd and kind of sad. In Kitgum, I rose and set with the sun. It was weird to be out and cold in the dark night.

My first day back in DC, my car was broken into. Stuff was taken, and subsequently partially recovered, when it was returned to another man who also had his car broken into and stuff taken. This other man's stuff ended up being beneath my clothes in my duffel bag when it was returned to him. He searched through my pockets and found my dad's phone number. My dad (whom I was not going to tell about my broken-into car) called me. Really, really odd.

Speaking of odd. Obama's face is everywhere here. Everywhere. Plastered on glass and painted on walls and mainly on cheap plastic merchandise. I love Obama, too, but... this is odd. I feel a little like I'm in 1984, and Big Brother is watching. Everywhere you go, everything you do, Obama's visage stares down at you. He's smart, he's good, he's true... but he's human. No man can live up to this hype, huh?

Being in DC takes far more courage on a day-to-day basis than being in Kitgum did, for me. Job searching and apartment searching and attempting to write articles and my thesis and trying to get health insurance again and and and, and it's all so stressful.