If I may be totally self-absorbed for a moment...

In what has become somewhat of a ritual, often times after I leave the office I don’t feel the particular desire to immediately return home. Recently I’ve been questioning whether I’m actively avoiding going home, which I suppose could very well be a possibility as the hours between 6 and 11 p.m. are often the lowlights of my day. But at any rate, it’s becoming a habit of mine to patron this fine establishment, which I literally found by accident a few weeks ago when I had a day off and scoured the city for some music and art supplies with which to entertain myself.

It’s only a few blocks from the office, and provides a nice “scenic route” for going home — when I begrudgingly decide to do so. It’s also one of the nicer such establishments I’ve seen, and the only one I’ve seen outside of Hanover, Germany with more than one floor.

I tend to use the place as my own personal library, as I am often too cheap to buy books myself, and for ones I absolutely have to have, I usually get them for free through work. (One of the few perks of the journalism trade is that pretty much any business, particularly book publishers, will send you free stuff if you tell them you work for a newspaper and wish to review their product. Though this theory seems to fizzle out at a certain point — apparently Apple doesn’t feel the need to have the Ipod Nano reviewed. But I digress.)

I appreciate the fact that the particular section of books I have been perusing lately can be found in the basement, as it tends to be generally more deserted and thus more conducive to my second-rate attempts at philosophizing. (On a side note, for my two (more likely one) Jewish friend(s) that read my blog, I found this book particularly enjoyable.)

In my generally solitary existence, I find that I am often left to my own thoughts. I already consider myself a person who thinks entirely too much as it is, but since moving to D.C., and in the past three months or so in particular, I’ve been finding it difficult to, in the simplest of terms, get my brain to shut up.

Don’t misunderstand — I’m not claiming any nobility from the fact that I think as much as I do. I’m not coming up with solutions to the world’s problems. I’m not even coming up with solutions for my own. My thoughts likely aren’t any different from those of people similar to my age, experience or current situation…I just tend to have more of them, from what I can tell.

A central theme of my ponderings of late have centered around two questions, namely: why am I here, and where do I want to be?

The former is much less philosophical than it sounds. I’m not particularly questioning my existence in abstract terms, but rather in realistic ones. Why am I in D.C.? What am I hoping to accomplish here? Am I accomplishing it?

At the most basic, I came to D.C. because that’s where I was offered money. Or, at least, enough money so as to make it worth my time to come here. I also thought it would be a great experience and a great opportunity and such as that. Thus far, all of those have come to pass. I do, in fact, get paid enough to make it worth my while, and it has been at the very least an interesting experience, and I believe I’ve been offered a unique opportunity.

There are still times when I’m walking around the city and see the Washington Monument or Capitol Dome in the distance and can’t help but shake my head at the fact that I live here.

Ok, great. But now what?

That question, the latter of the two I’ve been mulling lately, has a much more elusive answer.

In pursuit of that answer, there’s a rather intense, bi-polar debate my mind is having with itself. You know that Clash song? It’s pretty much the same thing.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not particularly interested in the newspaper scene. I’m much less interested in what happened yesterday than I am in what will happen tomorrow and the days after.

I’m much more intrigued by Thom@s Friedm@n and Ch@rles Krau+hammer than I am by B0b \/\/oodward or Judi+h Mi||er, and would much rather have the jobs of the former. That said, I’m not particularly interested in becoming famous, or for that matter, infamous. If nothing else, I’d like to become a respected commentator, maybe write a book or two, and maybe serve as an advisor or speechwriter for anyone who might need such a service.

Other than that, my life is much more driven by relationships than it is by accomplishments — which, incidentally, is why I think I’m not enjoying D.C. as much as I otherwise would.

If a mutually exclusive choice were to arise between making $2 million a year and being lonely or making $50,000 a year and having a significant network of friends and family, I’d take the latter, hands down.

Thus, I must question the merits of sticking around “the District.” As a friend of mine recently (and rather bluntly) pointed out: “I don’t think you’ll find anyone to marry in D.C.” As much as I might agree, it was still a bit of a body blow. Or, more accurately, as much as it might have stung, I can’t help but agree.

On the other hand, another friend of mine predicts that I’ll be a straight-up family man within two years. Which, not to say that I oppose the idea, I just have no idea whatsoever as to what would lead him to believe such.

At any rate, it would appear that in order to appease my career-driven side, I should stay in the area. To appease my relationship-driven side, it would appear I need to leave. Technological advancements being what they are, however, perhaps my career objectives will become much more mobile, giving me considerable freedom to pursue other priorities. I have a few months to decide, I suppose.

Ok, I think that’s enough self-indulgence for now.

Hmm. It’s a Friday afternoon, everyone else in the department is already gone, and I don’t have anything else to do. Screw this, I’m going home…later.