I’m on a bus.

No, really. I’m on a bus right now heading to Philadelphia to enjoy a weekend that will no doubt seem exceedingly loud following my two weeks thus far at Gallaudet.

For me and my carsickness, it’s lifesaving that buses now come with things like wifi and power outlets. What a welcome distraction from the fact that the world is whizzing past me at a speed that we humans were never truly designed to go. Thank goodness for wifi, and thank goodness that I managed to “search through my backpack” long enough to secure an extra empty seat for lounging.

“But, Sasha,” asks no one at all. “Why in the world would you leave the beautiful city of Washington DC and all of your new friends just to travel back to Philly?” I’m glad you didn’t ask! In a moment full of impulse and lacking in juedgement, I found myself ordering a ticket to the Made In America Festival and, before I could remember that I no longer receive a bi-weekly pay check, had committed myself to a weekend of listening to bands that I had pined to see play in person. So, here goes nothing. There is a possibility that, by Tuesday morning, I will have acquired a temporary threshold shift and find my new signing skills of even more use. Or that I’ll be way too tired to cope with the week ahead of me. One of those.

(Side note: Gosh, I wish I had a pillow to lean against..)

But, onward and upward!

Something I find myself questioning is the extent to which I can and should report on certain events. I question if a story I tell or a complain I lodge will fall upon the wrong ears and be taken out of context. Then, I remember that those that I fear offending do not currently and will most likely never read what I write. And even if they do, I’m not lying, so it’s not slanderous.

Last night marked my first foray into the DC trivia scene. Much debate was had as to who the initiation should be open to. Would anyone outside of our department want to go? Would it be awkward? The answers are as follows: Yes and yes. But not for reasons you would think. Being the punctual individuals we are, our quartet (it took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to think of that word) arrived way before trivia started. No one had responded to our invitation, so we were lead to believe we would be facing the questions alone. We were half right. Mere moments before the first question , a fairly large group of graduate students arrived. Our waves and hello’s were not returned. They formed their own team.


Luckily, we were saved at the very last second from an embarrassing defeat by the arrival of some acquaintances. The night wore on and the idea of “going to trivia for a few hours” quickly turned into “staying out until two AM.”

YOLO, right? (Dear God, you can tell its late..)

I have been prepared for the fact that, as hearing students in the field of Speech Therapy, we may not be welcome into the community with open arms. What I was not prepare for was the utter lack of common courtesy I have found some people to have.

Following our night on the town (or night at two bars), this morning was a blur of otoscopy and imittance testing, both of which are super fun on few hours of sleep and no breakfast. If you want a taste of what I got to see at 9 AM, feel free to click here. (and that’s not even the worst of it…)

Moving on:

I find myself increasingly surprised in the choices I’m making and the things I’m willing to do that are far out of my comfort zone. This trip, for instance. Here I am, sitting on a bus in the middle of the night, alone. I had a fleeting thought that I don’t want to be here, do I? When I get to the end of the line, it’ll take me right back to the beginning again. I don’t have to get off. I can fall asleep and wake up in seven hours and be back at Union Station.

Now, there is no logical reason for me to feel this way. It’s just the feeling of branching out and doing this alone that I find uncomfortable. Which is strange, because my entire life for the past two weeks has been doing different things alone, and happening to find others who are willing to join me in that madness. If you had told me a year ago that this is what I would be doing, I would have never believed you. I’m still not sure I do, though. So there’s that. 


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