Heel Talk

Putting your best foot forward always begins with the correct shoe.

Before I settle on any outfit I prioritize which shoe will best compliment the task at hand. As I planned for my first day of interning at Market News International, I spent a special amount of effort to plan the proper footwear. Following the the Washington Journalism Center FAQ instructions, I had selected one pair of "comfortable" shoes for the walk to the office and one "business" pair to slip on for work.

However finding the proper business heel was not easy. The high heel is a very complex organ in the body of female fashion. On one hand there is the hooker heel. These are the shoes that defy nature when worn. They are colorful, shiny, and are worn for the sole purpose to enhance sex appeal. Trust me, every girl has a pair somewhere in her closet.Yet on the other end of the heal spectrum is the practical heel. These are usually black, plain and magnify cankles.

But as I left my apartment Tuesday morning, I knew I had made the right choice. Tucked inside my very grown up and professional bag were a sleek pair of black kitten heel pumps. My secret weapon to a empowering day. They had just enough height to sleek my legs into an confident woman while avoiding collapsing arches.

I managed to get to my building with a plan to change shoes in the bathroom outside my office. However, when I reached my destination, the bathroom was locked! Trying not to panic, I scanned the empty hallway as I threw one hand into my bag while the other hand removed the Rainbow sandal I had worn to get there. Much to my horror, I heard footsteps coming from around the corner. I was not about to be caught with one sandal on and a heel in hand on the first day. I somehow performed a ninja like move that transitioned the shoe switch and walked into my office without being caught.

On my first assignment I had to go to the Capitol to get a press pass. I changed shoes on the metro into my comfortable sandals. In the excitement of getting a press pass and trying desperately not to get lost, I forgot to transition shoes again! This time I walked into the Capitol completely forgetting my open toed sandals and the security guard frowned as he gave me a once over. His frown triggered I had a major crisis on my feet. I threw myself into the nearest bathroom and quickly changed. Only then could I return to the guard with dignity and ask him where to go for the appointment office for I could not bring myself to do so in flip flops.

Still recovering from my sandal faux pas, I managed to get my press pass with out anymore trips or stumbles. But as I walked down from the Hill to my metro stop a woman, in a suit that cost more than my entire wardrobe, stopped me.

"Excuse me, " she asked, "Where did you get your shoes?"

"Oh, um, well, actually I got them from ROSS" I answered.

"Really?" She threw a jealous look at my feet, "They are exactly the kind of shoes I have been looking for. Cute and comfortable, ya know?"

I eyed her three inch pointy toed heels and winced at her already swollen heels. We talked heels briefly before parting to our destinations.

Now, if I can only remember to put my heels on I think I might be able to do OK in this city...

Originally posted on InkTank on September 18.

A inconvenient church...

I am slowly discovering that living in the city has its costs as well as its many benefits. While I am still riding a major high off of my first impressions of DC, I am also aware that the quirks I was so quick to call "quaint" may actually be somewhat "frustrating".
Yesterday a few of my friends wanted to go to a Nazarene church, however, none of us knew how to get to one. Yet with every convenience store, coffee shop, metro and national monument within walking distance, we paid little attention at the possibility of traveling very far. One glance at the Washington Metro trip planer made us reconsider our dedication to pursue Nazbo fellowship.

The mere two buses that it would take to get to Nazbo world would take a whole hour of traveling time.

At home, my church is twenty minutes away by car. (Fifteen if the right girl is driving) When and if I go to church on campus, I walk five minutes to any service of my liking. I am not used to going above and beyond my way to get anywhere. When I want shampoo, I expect a local and convenient Wal-Mart to greet me with a creepy yellow smile. And when I want to go church, I do not usually plan on taking an hour to get there.
Despite our hesitancy, we decided to give it a try at least once. What kept us from just giving up I will never know but I was thankful we went. The service was beautiful and complemented with overstuffed (free!) donuts.
I have had some time to reflect on our trip and I've come up with sobering revelations about myself. I wanted to go to church but I didn't want to work for it. Perhaps in too many ways I have been simply wanting God time only in areas convenient around me. It took two buses and an hour of being surrounded by strangers to discover that maybe church isn't about meeting God at the nearest church. Perhaps we can meet her in the strangers around us on the way there. I can use the time to quiet my over-stressed mind on the way to fellowship.
I am still trying out different churches but this small adventure has made me a little more aware of the meaning in the inconveniences around me.