I'm a little late, and I don't have the pictures ready to go yet, but I feel like I need to post something about the fact that I was in DC for Inauguration.

I was on the mall the night before, being excited with everyone and being interviewed by high school kids with braces. I was waiting in line freezing my ass off for 3 hours to get inside the Newseum for the actual swearing in. I was staring out a window watching his motorcade come by after he became President. I was at the parade route, waving frantically as he smiled at us, with Malia pressed against the window of the limo looking at all the crowds.

Tuesday morning we stepped outside from the US Marshalls building, where we had slept on cots the night before, and people were everywhere. It was as if the whole city was walking, and everyone was freezing their asses off, but still smiling.

The actual swearing in we watched on a jumbotron, alongside about a thousand other people packed into the museum. I felt like I had 5 million friends. We were pressed closed to others, including the Newseum photographer, everyone having one conversation, everyone so happy and it didn't matter if you stepped on someone's foot because WE WERE WATCHING CHANGE HAPPEN!

When the TV showed Bush everyone started singing, "Nananana, nananana, hey hey hey, goodbye." And when Obama was finally president we screamed. We could actually FEEL everyone on the mall - two blocks away - stomping their feet.

Crime was down on Tuesday. An added 5 million people in the city, and less crime than normal. People passing on the street smiled like they'd known you for years. A complete stranger handed me her extra scarf while we were waiting in the cold, and I saw dozens of others do the same for people.

I felt so unbelievably proud of my country, more than I ever have before. I feel so united and so optimistic. Tuesday totally renewed my faith in humanity, because no matter how rude people are while sitting in traffic, I will always remember the people I saw on Tuesday.

Good job, country. Change is real.

This is what I liked about yesterday:

-Highly intelligent conversation about the election, with my mom's very conservative Christian friend Angela. Fantastic.
-Pre-gaming
-Drinking with my stepdad.
-Knowing some time around 11:30. Before the polls even closed in Alaska. Huh.
-Slots in Maryland! Money for our schools!
-VIRGINIA IS A BLUE STATE?! What angels fell from the sky to make that happen?!
-Charles County = blue. St. Mary's = red. Dammit.
-No man telling me how to manage my own body, no matter what my personal beliefs are.
-Hearing all of the chaos in the cities and colleges.
-Being able to gloat to my political science professor in 15 minutes.
-I know I expected this, but 94% of DC voted blue. So the way I figure, if I went up to a random stranger in DC and said, "Fuck yeah, Barack Obama?" there is a 94% chance the outcome won't be negative.
-Being a part of history.

Let's get shit done now.

And her dress wasn't that bad. Let's get over it.

I was on my way to a Regina Spektor concert in DC today, and my metro train ran over a lady. She jumped, she was trying to get hit. Her plan didn't quite work, thanks to a train driver who was really on top of things.

I still feel so safe riding the metro.

There is a much longer story than this, a much more exciting one. But the lady is okay. She got a cut on her arm. How does one get run over by a metro train and survive?

I would have stayed if I knew she was alive. But to be honest, I went from thinking there was a bomb (thanks, cryptic driver) to thinking she'd been totally squashed. I got the whole story later from a metro worker who had been in the cabin with me when it happened.

Today I thought I was going to die. Literally. No dramatics. Well, it was dramatic, but I'm not exaggerating. We were stuck inside a tunnel, being told there was an emergency and that we needed to evacuate the train, all the while our cabin door was stuck, and I could hear sirens all above me.

Then I thought someone else HAD died. I talked to a woman who saw her jump. I heard a metro employee telling a disgruntled passenger, "Yeah, we'll get the trains running again - as soon as we get a BODY out from under a train!"

But no one died.

Sometimes when things like this happen, I look at everyone walking down the street trying to get to the Regina Spektor concert, or to work, or back home from shopping. And I wonder how life goes on, like sometimes it shouldn't, like the whole world should stop and think, "This woman must have been in so much pain if she would jump into the metro tracks."

Things don't work like that. I don't know if I'm doing a good job of explaining this though.

The day that I went to New Life for the first time, the person who took me told me a story about clay. It was the first time I'd heard God referred to as The Potter, even though she never said those exact words. What she told me was that people are like clay, and sometimes God has to pound us to get us into that perfect shape, the perfect piece that we should be, and will hopefully turn out to be. I thought it was the perfect analogy. I still think of it. I think that sometimes God uses his fist, and sometimes he just uses his fingertips.

I'm pretty sure I've been pounded on a lot this week. I've cried, good and bad tears, for myself and for others. And I've learned so freaking much.

Like how awesome my friends are. On Monday I made Whitney cry, in a way that served to make me realize that, holy crap, 3000 miles doesn't matter, because if I said, "Get on a plane right now." she would say, "I'm already driving to the airport!"

Rachel's death has really changed me. It's crazy how you can be talking to someone, sitting so that your legs are actually touching theirs, looking at pictures of their brother, and then BAM. They're gone. I hadn't seen her in a while, but I grew up with her. I have this memory of her at three years old, being lifted onto the monkey bars by Kyle, sassing me in her tiny little voice. And now she's with Chad.

I didn't go to the funeral. I couldn't go.

I'm a little angry at the person who let her get in her car, who gave her the keys. And I'm a little angry at her. But I know it doesn't matter now. She's just gone.

I sat in Promise's kitchen last night and held back tears for the stories I heard from her mother. It made me feel better about my dad, and maybe even stop doubting whether or not he's capable of love. I'm so sorry for other people sometimes.

I heard someone tell me that I am hard to love, but that it's not that I'm hard. I do think I need to fix that.


This is how I forever think of Promise and my sister. I know that when she took this picture, she was making funny noises, and Promise was doing her "I'm just pretending to not like it" laugh. They both do those things a lot. I have videos of it on my phone.


THIS is what I think of when I think of Chad and Rachel. Not sick, not unhappy, not dead, not affected by cancer. Just two little kids who were so funny and cute in a way that no one else was. I miss them a lot, even 10 years later for Chad, but I am so happy they're together now.

What sucks the most about this year, is that there are things that I'm really hurt by. And I can't be honest. People aren't being honest with me, also. But I can't be honest. Because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Which is funny, because they've hurt mine.

What sucks the most about this year isn't the waiting. I can wait. I've been waiting for a lot of things for a long time. What sucks the most is being hurt.

Really.

Information
Hola, me llamo Racquel. Or Rachel. This journal was thought up on a bus ride from NYC to DC, while listening to Regina Spektor's song "That Time". Lyrics from the song are in my profile. It's not only a reference to a favorite song by a favorite artist, it's a reference to what a journal is.

Warnings
-I'm not going to add everyone. This was some of the reason that I made the move from iceprincezz to this journal. Really, I'm not mean. Mostly I'm just interest specific. I don't watch TV, so I won't know what the hell you're talking about.
-I have a very strong relationship with Christ. If you don't like this, that's fine. I'm going to talk God, and I'm going to do it in my LJ.
-I'm allowed to de-friend you, and vice versa. This isn't middle school. If you get bored of me or something, I'm not going to get my feelings hurt. If I decide to defriend you, PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT PERSONAL.
-I'm a BAD commenter. Don't get your feelings hurt, I'm more than likely reading your entries.

And so, with all of that said, the point is this: