A Two Liter of Coke? or How I Went to Washington, D.C. to Discern My Future and Only Came Back With More Questions
Well, most of you reading this probably know that I visited American University this weekend. I'll get to all that in a minute. But first I would like to write some about our nation's capital, affectionately known as The District.
According to my trusty guidebook, the city was "founded" (at least in a sense) by one Charles Pierre L'Enfant (pronounced "lefawnt" for those of you from Lubbock) around 1791. True to his French nature, and according to the book, "L'Enfant was a diva." Only a year after he first planned the city, he was fired by President Washington (old ivory teeth himself) for being, well, too much of a diva in the district's scene. Nonetheless, L'Enfant's design for the city was implemented, thereby giving him a memorable place in American history and, subsequently, facilitating future references to the Frenchman by modern D.C. dwellers.
It is a wonderful city to visit. Although I had been there once before (staying at Georgetown University for a conference), seeing it again was like seeing it for the first time. You have the monuments, of course. Of these, I believe the Jefferson Memorial to be my favorite. It is not only a fitting memorial in its size, but its scope and depth-insofar as the memorial is rooted in the statesman's philosophy-- is truly remarkable. Dave, who joined me on this trip and about whom I have related and will continue to relate many stories-both here and elsewhere--and I discussed Jefferson's complexity.
Though not conclusive, it would appear that Jefferson did indeed have a relationship with a slave named Sally Hemmings. And, while he condemned slavery as a practiced burdened on the colonies by King George--originally listing this among the other grievances found in the
Declaration of Independence--he continued to keep his slaves until his death in the mid-1820s. I think, interestingly enough, this very complexity, this seeming paradox of culture and philosophy, is merely a microcosm of the complexity America has with race. It is not as simple as white vs. black (or other races)--the nuances are too many to reconcile with such an idea.
(NOTE: We did see many other memorials, too many, in fact, to discuss here. However, you should all get around to seeing the Lincoln Memorial, which Dave astutely observed was a life-size rendering of the 16th president.)
After seeing most of the monuments (at least those around The Mall) on Saturday night, we headed to Georgetown. In a word, Georgetown is preppy; in two words, preppy and pretentious; in three words preppy, pretentious, and political. It is a haven for, as one waiter described to me on my last night, “blue bloods.” Georgetown is famous, of course, for the university of the same name. But it is better know, perhaps, as the epicenter of the politically connected. Its narrow streets lines with two-hundred year old townhomes provide a quiet respite for political shenanigans. For about $500,000 you too could have a piece of this preppy enclave. After eating at Mr. Smith’—the more famous Clyde’s was a 2 hour wait—we walked around Georgetown before heading back to the hotel.
Sunday morning we headed to the capitol building where, however briefly, Dave flirted with the idea of posing as “Senator Burns from Montana.” Senator Burns would later, in a manner which I am only able to describe as effeminate frolicking, proceed down the steps of the Supreme Court—the nation’s most prestigious legal body. We then reflected on the sad fact that lady Justice was apparently stricken blind earlier in her life (perhaps from birth). Although we understood that all disabilities can be overcome, I bet if Senator Burns is re-elected his first order of business would be a bill outlawing blindness. Vote for Senator Burns!
After seeing about 30 buildings with titles beginning with “The National…” I was expecting to see the The National Toilet; alas, it was not to be. So we proceeded to the very posh Harry’s sports bar. Like other high class sports bars, Harry’s serves soft drinks for the weak—that’s us—but does it in style. Out plastic Dixie cups were refilled from a two liter bottle of Coke. None of that fancy fountain drink shit here. That’s just how you roll in D.C.
Well, about this time, Dave had to leave and head back to the “Constitution State” (Connecticut, again for those of you from Lubbock). Though Dave had been a great driver during the weekend, he changed directions so many times even autopilot would have gotten sick. Quote of the weekend from the driver, “When I get nervous, I floor it.” I think we can all take solace in that; Senator Burns, I commend you.
So what does one do by himself on a Sunday night in the District of Columbia? Whys you get yous some EastCoast hos! But I jest. You take a walk down the quiet 35 th street in Georgetown, turn left onto M Street and another left onto Wisconsin. You then stop into Third Edition, a bar, where you listen as the soundtrack from Garden State plays in the background. Have a beer, and ask the waiter about the city. Yes, if you have seen the Brat Pack classic, St. Elmo’s Fire—I haven’t but now feel the need to—it was filmed in part at this bar. Then you walk back to your hotel room and get some sleep for you meeting with American University in the morning.
Located in the affluent area surrounding Massachusetts Avenue in Northwest D.C., The American University (yes, there is a “The” apparently) is a small school of 10,000 students. Although its official abbreviation is AU, one Master’s student told me that it also goes by "Gay Jew" in reference to its large homosexual and Jewish populations. Now that I have had a day to reflect on the meeting, I have to admit that I have some strong reservations about the school.
The professor who facilitated the day was extremely generous and wanted to make sure I had the best visit possible. I greatly appreciated that, and I think the day went well. I met with a few different faculty members and two students. However, though the academics are certainly there, I’m not sure if I would feel comfortable (or best served professionally) if I pursued their program.
Although scholars pride themselves on their own objectivity and diversity, graduate programs (at least when it comes to Liberal Arts) are, unfortunately, rarely ideologically diverse or object when it comes to faculty. I knew that going in. However, while I do not want to attend a “conservative program” any more than a “liberal program,” I’m not sure if my views would be tolerated at AU given the actions of some of the faculty. As I entered the department’s main office, I was greeted by the UK’s Daily Mirror cover from Nov. 4: A picture of George Bush with the caption “How can 59,054,087 be so dumb?” Isn’t that special? And this is on the door of the main office? Hmm…it continues…
After meeting some other office workers, I was introduced to the head of the department. He asked me how Texas was and, thinking that he was referring to the weather, offered that it was pretty warm still. He said, “I mean politically.” Oh. I looked down at his desk and saw an interesting faux-TIME magazine cover: Bush’s picture with the caption “We’re Fucked.” I looked back up, and in a diplomatic way, suggested that I was sure Texas was fine with the outcome. I should add that upon leaving his office, I noticed more anti-Bush propaganda adorned to his door. Interesting.
Later, I met with a rather personable faculty member. She was very nice and seemed truly interested in talking with me. We discussed Robert Frost’s politics, which led into a discussion of Ezra Pound. Unlike Frost, I said, Pound could hardly be considered a conservative. To which she retorted, “Well he was a fascist.” Whoa. Stop. Let’s reread that:
We discussed Robert Frost’s politics, which led into a discussion of Ezra Pound. Unlike Frost, I said, Pound could hardly be considered a conservative. To which she retorted, “Well he was a fascist.”
Woops. Seems like a little Freudian slip there. So conservatism is synonymous with fascism. I’m starting to understand. However, to her credit—perhaps she saw my eyebrows rise—she qualified her statement with a weak “well I suppose conservatism doesn’t necessarily mean fascism” or some other similar statement. But she had already been had.
Now, as I wrote earlier. I know graduate programs tend to be liberal (sometimes radically so). And I by no means want to attend a program where everyone thinks as I do. There is neither intellectual growth in that, nor is there any fun. I do however expect intellectual soundness and professionalism. I don’t think equating fascism with conservatism is sound in the least. The former is a brutal dictatorial regime bent on consolidating private industries into the national government through the use of terrorism. On the other hand, I was disappointed with the fact that the head of the department not only had non-academic paraphernalia on his door (what are we doing here, decorating a dorm room?) but that it was so vulgar and crass. In no way would such material ever be considered professional. So given these actions, would I be comfortable at AU? I just don’t know. And this ignorance has led me to question whether an English program is right for me at all.
I’ve mentally reviewed my resume: History major with a 3.5+ major GPA; I worked as a columnist (mostly political) for a year in a major University newspaper; I currently research and write about major political events in the world and the United States. On paper, I would be an excellent match for a History, Political Science or American Studies program. The first two seem too narrow; however, I think American Studies might be a good bet. It will allow me to pursue American literature, politics, culture, and history at the same time. I think that would be interesting, and complement my overactive mind. But now there are even more questions with fewer answers.
I do know one thing though. I got to spend time with a true friend in a great town. We had a lot of fun seeing the sites and exploring the city. It’s a great place to visit, and perhaps to live in. D.C. has so much to offer—its like a miniature New York City. But I still didn’t get a stupid T-shirt.
