Making East Coast Friends...

I moved to the East Coast six months ago, and since arriving, I've spent most of my free time making new friends.  It's what I do.  I go out.  I network.  I meet people.  I introduce myself to complete strangers.  I become new friends with my friends' friends.  Heck, I even joined a kickball team, and of course, I go to the happy hours.  You get the point..

From all this social activity, I've honestly and proudly made friends with other twenty-somethings who have also settled and now live in DC.  These new friends hail from the Midwest, the Southwest, the South and even from so far as the West Coast (all places I've also lived), but also those who have been here from the beginning--and are still here--the "East Coasters."  This bunch, however, has been the most difficult to befriend, but why?

Without a doubt, the East Coasters maintain an "air of reservation," which I have come to understand.  Perhaps, East Coasters might lack some trust for those of us who subscribed to Manifest Destiny (but there is something to be said about the fact we all say "go back East" and "head out West").  The simple fact that East Coasters are the most difficult of all Americans to warm up to and befriend, from my experience, unequivocally stems from the reasons derived from these observations:

First, East Coasters are more reserved.  They let on much less (and a lot less at first) to new people, friends and strangers.  Therefore, it takes longer to really get to know them, and they also reserve much more about who they are, what they do and who they know.  Maybe this is because they have larger and more numerous circles of friends, but it might also have to do with old money: how far back their families go into America's history and how politically, socially, and/or financially connected their namesake might be (and don't even begin to ask about their family's coat of arms).  Nevertheless, those who have lived on the East Coast their whole lives, along with their parents, grandparents, and their grandparents' parents (who were probably Pilgrims) just don't warm up very easily.  I've even experienced this with women dating back to my very first girlfriend in high school (who was from Middletown, NY) to the more recent pursuit with a wonderful East Coast woman.  I've also experienced this with new East Coast guy friends who look at me strangely when I make commitments early, easily, or tell them I can do this or that without thinking through it all for more than a moment.  It's fair I get those looks from my East Coast buddies, and to be honest, West Coasters are synonymous with flakiness.  This I know.

Second, East Coasters are just busier, and their busyness largely results from allowing an insurmountable amount of nightly and weekly events onto their plates (which I have also started to do..).  Yet, it also has to do with making decisions about where they go and what they do in their free time a bit more carefully.  From what I've collected in the last six months, it takes a lot more vetting from an East Coaster before they commit to (let alone attend) an event, get-together, happy hour, etc.  Trust me, I've tried them on all fronts--from happy hours to fundraisers, dinners to visiting local art galleries.  It just takes more persistance, more eagerness, and you must always be honest with them, both about what to expect, but more importantly, who will be there.  East Coasters will always fulfill their commitments, which is in stark contrast to West Coasters (sorry, I had to go there), but it also takes a lot more to get their commitment.  In DC, this is more of a commonality than anywhere else because, (I mean, come on) it's DC, so you never know who's going to be out where you're going or who that stranger might know--about you, your organization, your boss or your coworkers while you're out doing your thing.  Thus, East Coasters are more reserved (see #1 above).

Third, East Coasters are more selective, but please, allow me to explain this before my East Coast friends take offense.  By this point, I simply mean that East Coasters allow a much smaller spectrum of West Coast's (et al.) fashion, style, dialects, lingo, slang, and demeanor into their diaspora.  Although the East Coast can stake their claim in the moon of style and fashion (Manhattan), and the various movements across the nation either spur from the East Coast or just plainly do not survive (read: Ed Hardy and tribal  tattoos).  Basically, most of what bleeds TMZ is really a recipe for disaster amongst the East Coast high crust/brow.  As well, East Coasters' appreciation for tradition (but not traditional), and their preservation of continuity is instrumental to their selectivity, which exists.

Fourth and finally, East Coasters have more depth.  I know I'll catch a lot of shit from some Cali friends about this, but if you read this post, you'll understand my claim..  In no specific order, East Coasters create better invitations, write more meaningful emails, leave lengthier voicemails, entertain thoughts longer, delve deeper into the emotions one feels, stay out later or longer (and to make sure you're home safe), tell you their thoughts without sacrificing their emotions, and they get straight to the point on matters.  Does this all come from their mutual concern for not letting on to others as easily and being more selective?  I think that truly plays a big part, but I also think that this nation has a melting pot of truly different people who are a conglomerate of their whereabouts.

In conclusion, I've merely tried to note a few of the qualitative differences between the people I've grown to know from living in the different parts of the nation.  My basic premise was that East Coasters have been the most difficult to befriend, and this feeling hasn't changed in the course of writing this post, but one thing is for sure, the sustainability of friendship with the few East Coasters I have made (and cherish) are unprecedented friendships.  They've not been fair-weather friends, they've given the best advice, and they've truly been there.

Night and day, I'm becoming more and more an East Coaster: more reserved, busier, more selective, and a deeper human being.  I've also been committing more of myself to the relationships I currently have (both here and afar), creating lasting friendships but also making inroads for a way of life that might soon proscribe to what's above.  However, I can only culminate as an East Coaster from my upbringing in the Midwest (Indiana), Southwest (Arizona), the South (Texas), and the West Coast (California), but never in spite of this whatsoever...

...who can relate?

For the Sake of Men this Movember.

It's not uncommon that I support causes.  It's also not uncommon that I've joined causes, ones that are bigger than myself and claim the lives of others.  So you shouldn't be surprised to read this Dandygram about what the next one is all about...

Moustache Season--better known as Movember--is upon us, and you all can be damn sure I've registered myself this year.  In fact, I've gotten other great guys and gals to register for Movember where we'll embrace the hair of the wild.

Basically, I've pledged to cultivate a genuine, 100% face grown moustache for the entire month of November.  Why, you ask?  To raise awareness and funds for men's health, specifically cancers affecting men.  To start this month, I have sent emails to my DC Mo Bros, Mo Sistas, and am now dedicating this Dandygram to it, too.  More importantly, I would like to ask you, my trusty and fearless readers, to join me by signing up or donating or growing a moustache or being a Mo Sista or just simply encouraging the men in your life to think about our health.  Together, we can change the face of men's health and do it in a thoughtful, fun way.  

Before I get more into what the Movember movement is all about, here are some cold, hard facts and a very personal story to put my involvement into better context:

Did you know that 1 in 6 American men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer in their lifetime?  True story.  Also, 1 in 2 men will be diagnosed with cancer in their lifetime.  Thirteen million adult men over the age of 20 in the United States have diabetes--and a third don't even know it.  One in eight men who suffer from mental illness actually seek help, and finally, a third of the 571,950 cancer deaths expected to occur in 2011 will be related to obesity, physical inactivity, poor nutrition and thus could be prevented.  Those are just the cold, hard facts of the matter.  Now, here is my personal story and the reason for my involvement this particular year:

During August 2011, my stepdad was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  He became one of the six who get diagnosed.  After a colonoscopy, a tumor was detected--and buried--in the transverse (horizontal) section of his colon and very close to his spleen.  Ligaments hold the colon in place there, so the doctor had to cut out a major part of that section and re-attach the pieces.  In all, he had about 14 inches removed from his lower intestine and now has a gnarly scar.  Presently, he is days away from going in for a second opinion to discover whether he will undergo chemotherapy.  He is just one.  One story of the millions of affected men, but he's the one that has made this month personal for me.

My dear readers - as more people (men and women both) become involved in Movember, more lives will be impacted.  It's plain and simple, but with a hairy twist!  Guys (Mo Bros): start growing your moustaches today, and tomorrow, make a statement, provoke conversation in the workplace, talk with your friends, call your doctor for a check up, style it for Thanksgiving over the turkey and dumplings, smile while riding your bike or in the coffee shop or everywhere.  For the sake of men, be healthy.  Gals (Mo Sistas): support your guys this month as they grow out a moustache, smile about the irritation from the fact we're growing moustaches, encourage us to visit our doctors and get ourselves checked out, make healthy meals with us, and remember, the moustache will be gone on December 1.

Here are the rules, and it's not too late to participate:

Now, if you truly want to take part in what I've joined (along with my friends) and start raising money for men's health, then get registered with DC Moustachery here (it's FREE and no moustache growing is required...that means you Mo Sistas!).  With that done, Movember will send you all the information you need to start raising awareness and funds on your own or with us for men's health.  We've had a good first two days -- $110 for the cause! -- but that's just the tip of the iceberg (or should I say the stubble above our upper lips) for Movember, DC Moustachery and men's health!

If you would like to participate, but don't want to register or grow a moustache, you can always donate directly to our cause by typing in "Trevor Sparks" here or "DC Moustachery" here.  All proceeds go to the cause, not me.  I promise, and it's really that simple, but honestly, more than your money and new Movember moustaches, I want you all to know it's cooler than cool to be healthy.  I just rock a moustache as a reminder (pictures and a Moustache Party coming soon!).

Movember will now forever be a part of my future Novembers, and as your friend, I ask that you please take a stand with me too.  It only takes one to make a difference, but working together, we can make and do so much more.  I leave you with a moustache style guide:

[I feel like] This is long overdue.

My dear readers: I am so sorry for such a delay in posting Dandygrams.  Life has really been delivering for the last two months.  Nevertheless, I presently have a few minutes to catch my breath and write (along with sincere encouragement from Janou), so I would like to address a few things that have been on my mind lately.  Here it goes..

First and foremost, let's get something very clear: there is a significant difference between a compliment and flattery.  To be sure, it took me years to really get this figured out, but I have learned.  I would like to give a lot of credit to my dear friend Megha for explaining it to me so eloquently.  

Here's the deal (gentlemen and aspiring Dandies take note): Flattery is not a compliment, and there is a very important distinction between flattery and compliments.  Compliments are sincere and well-deserved.  Flattery, by definition, is "excessive and insincere praise, especially that given to further one's own interests."  An example here would be good:  You have beautiful eyes.  Wow.  Good line sweet talker!  I mean, if you want the pretty lady to say, "I'm so flattered," then you've done well.  If you want her to say thank you, compliment her on something in her control:  You look beautiful tonight (or) That is an amazing dress.  These are the type of things women have in their control.  

As Megha would explain, our parents and genetic code give us our eyes, so we really have no choice in the matter or how they look.  Our style or our appearance, however, is something we control and this deserves admiration.  So gentlemen, bite your tongues for a second and think of a better line that would compliment women because it means so much more than flattery.  Not only that, compliments don't come across as cheesy, and of course, women know the difference.

Now to the second thing that's been on my mind, and this one shoots to the core of so much that is being said in conversation these days.  I've blogged before about how certain aspects of my generation have encompassed the ability for many to communicate effectively, such as the way text messaging has shortened our sentences and abbreviated our feelings or how nobody sends postcards, writes letters or mail thank you cards anymore.  Well, here's yet another downfall to our communication abilities and it's stacked right up there with the rest of them.  

[I feel like] people should know about this.  [I feel like] it's important to share.  [I feel like] there are a lot people always saying 'I feel like' for no good reason at all.

I have no doubt you are each rapidly catching on to my observation since 'I feel like' is EVERYWHERE, but WHY?  That dumb prefacing phrase has no real purpose in conversation.  It's simply a subtle way to insert indetermination.  As if our generation doesn't have enough of that already.  Basically, it is just more indecision for my already indecisive generation.  

Here's my suggestion: just get your feelings and opinions out there without fear you might be wrong, judged or questioned for what you're saying.  While those things do happen and sometimes we get called on misspeaking or improperly verbalizing our ideas, we're humans and humans are prone to error.  Whenever 'I feel like' is said, it's just a way of interject a prepositional phrase to what you are already going to say, which is based on what you feel and the listener is obviously aware of this once you say it.  

That said, it's now time to go out and PLAY!

In No Specific Order: Taking a Moment for the Brain, Heart, and Soul

Let's be honest: it is so damn easy to be consumed by things in our daily life that constantly draw our attention away from what really, truly matters.  It happens, we're all victims of this, and it's inevitable.  However, we can thank goodness for the hearts and minds of three special women: Rachel Sparks-Graeser, Leslie Cunningham, and Hailey Wist.  Why these three women, you ask?  Let me explain...

Two years ago, my cousin Rachel's life forever changed after she had moved to New York City and learned that children were being sold into prostitution all over the world. No longer content to live as she had been, she began wrestling with how to get involved. The result?  The SOLD Project.

Last year, my cousin Leslie took on a challenge to provide mothers--of young and old children alike--a photographic reflection about giving birth.  She combined her powerful, literary eye for the joys and surprises of motherhood along with her talented understanding for the media driven concept of feminine beauty to please and strike home a cause that is common for all women who have walked into the circle of motherhood.  From her dedication to #goodness came The Afterbelly.

This year, my friend Hailey (whom I would say is an Alice Waters protégé) invited four suburbanites to grow a summer garden in rural Arkansas.  During this time, they discovered the forgotten satisfaction of digging in the dirt and porch sitting with neighbors. They ate within a 100-mile radius, sold their goods at a local farmers market, and gained (or deeply instilled) their compassion for sustainability.  Hailey's spark birthed The Garden Summer. 

Please, take a moment outside of yourself to fill your brain, heart, and soul with the amazing and powerful work of these three incredible women.  

Pepitoria: A Simple Dish, A Perfect Dish

As you probably already know, I have been living with a host family in the DC suburb of Greenbelt, MD since I moved out here after graduating from Cal at the end of May.  It's been grand, and I've learned a lot about having Gramma and Daddy Bob as my housemates...

Unfortunately, my time has come to move on (and out), and on Saturday, I'll sign a lease for a new apartment in downtown DC with my friend Nick!  However, that is not the exciting news OR the real reason for this post.

The reason for this post is FOOD.  Authentic Spanish food to be precise.  Tonight, for no apparent reason, my Greenbelt host Gramma made Pollo en Pepitoria for dinner.  If you didn't know, Gramma is 100% Spanish, and 100% awesome; to be sure, what she made for dinner tonight was--without a doubt--the best meal she has cooked since I moved in and took over their basement (however, I have yet to try her famous Paella!!).

After coming just shy of licking my plate at the dinner table, I immediately asked to see her cookbook where the recipe was found so that I could copy it down.  Seriously: print this recipe, cook it, and I guarantee you'll be sharing it with your friends and family soon enough.  Without any further delay, here's the recipe:

Pollo En Pepitoria (Chicken in Egg, Almond, and Sherry Sauce) from The Food and Wines of Spain by Penelope Casas

"Pepitoria" applies to poultry and game dishes to which egg has been added, either uncooked or hard-boiled, and is a favorite Spanish preparation.  Although most often found with chicken, many believe that a hen, slow cooked, produces the tastiest "pepitoria."  I have found that a kosher chicken gives the best results.  This dish combines all of the ingredients most often associated with Spanish cooking -- garlic, saffron, sherry, and almonds -- into an unusually savory sauce.

Please note!  There were changes to this recipe for tonight:  Gramma served this over rice and just used chicken breasts (Daddy Bob doesn't like chicken with bones!).  She also used a mortar and pestle to crush the blanched almonds because "it is better that way."  Also, she didn't use any ham or the egg, but she definitely would have, and why?  That's another story . . .

Ingredients:

4 tablespoons olive oil

One 3 - 3 1/2 pound chicken, cut in small serving pieces

(Optional) 1/4-pound piece cured ham, cut in julienne strips

1 large onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

3 tablespoons minced parsley

1/4 cup dry sherry

3/4 cup chicken broth

Dash nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon saffron

1 bay leaf

Salt

Freshly ground pepper

15 blanched almonds

1 hard-boiled egg, finely chopped

In a large casserole, heat the oil and saute the chicken over a high flame until it is well browned.  Pour off all put 1 tablespoon of the oil.  Reduce the heat, add the ham, onion, garlic, and 2 tablespoons of the parsley, and cook until the onion is wilted.  Stir in the sherry, broth, nutmeg, saffron, bay leaf, salt, and pepper.  Simmer 10 minutes, uncovered.  Remove the chicken, ham, and bay leaf to a heated platter.

In a food processor or blender, chop the almond until they are finely ground.  Gradually add the contents of the casserole and blend until smooth.  Return the sauce to the casserole along with the chicken, ham, and bay leaf.  Cover and cook in a 350 oven for 20 minutes, adding more chicken broth if the sauce thickens too much.  Sprinkle the hard-boiled egg over the chicken and cook 5 minutes more.  Garnish with the remaining tablespoon of the parsley before serving and accompany with a green salad and a light red wine like Cabernet Sauvignon.

Muchas gracias Gramma!  Viva la España!

The DC Metro: A (Novice) Rider's Experience

There's something about living in a metropolitan city, being a blogger, and riding the city's local metro system that, within a short period of time, a post about riding and commuting on the metro each day will inevitably come around.  With that said, here's that Dandygram:

Since moving to DC, I have become a DC Metro commuter.  Honestly, I don't have an atypical commute for residing out in the suburbs and driving to the local park-and-ride station with the rest of my neighbors (read: Greenbelt, MD). 

I am, however, new to it all.  In fact, I enjoy the commute via Metro (most days), so I am not going to rant about what I find obnoxious about my morning and evening commutes (although I might drop a few hints, like the investment I made in a damn good set of noise-canceling ear buds shortly after my first day of riding) or tell you about the obscenities I've witnessed whilst taking the late train back to my parked car after the weekly happy hour that went longer than predicted (more below on this).  Instead, I am going to try my best to tell you what it's like to see, hear, feel, and ride on one of the cleanest and nicest metro systems in the U.S. as a novice daily commuter.

There are a few caveats about being a novice Metro rider.  To start, you must learn and quickly familiarize yourself with "Metro etiquette," and this begins from the moment you swipe your fare card into at entry point to when you leave your destination's station.  Now, in what I think is the most chronologically correct order as possible of the day's events, here's what I've learned about Metro etiquette but with the twist only I know how to give for what I've observed:

First, do not spend more than two full seconds during the hours of 7:00am and 9:00am trying to get your pre-loaded SmarTrip Metro fare card or Metro card to work and process at the mere two of seven available entry machines.  If you spend as much as (heaven forbid) five seconds or more trying to get your fare card to scan, you may as well wait for the next train because the grudges, glares, and growls from the riders behind you--also waiting to scan their cards at the less-than-what-is-necessary entry machines--will haunt you stop after stop and make you feel like you were, once again, in fourth grade again and have been "that person" to have given too much time (and lip) at the hallway water fountain.

Second, the escalators have a very specific protocol.  This was something explained clearly by a colleague of mine who also commutes into DC from equidistance but on the southern leg of the Orange line.  She explained that riders on the escalators--both going up and down--are to "walk on the left, stand on the right."  This communal understanding quickly became about as simple as tying shoelaces, but if (again, heaven forbid) you are "that person" standing on the left, well...you might as well open an umbrella because all the bringers and the buyers with their leftovers from lunch will surely let you know like a bad performance at a Shakespearean theatre.  (Not to mention, there's the slapping of women's high heels and men's dress heels as they slowly approach your unwavering stance standing on the left side of the up escalator, which make you nervous enough to shuffle between two people standing on the right who already get this.  Oh, and God forbid you do this on the escalators at L'Enfant Plaza or Metro Center... YIKES!)

Third, if no seats are available on your train, it's absolutely acceptable to stand.  However, you must ensure you've found a low center of gravity before departure and throughout the length of the ride.  For example, take what I like to call a "three pointed pose."

The "three pointed pose" is simple: two feet planted firmly on the ground a little wider than shoulder-width apart (for a lower center of gravity, obviously).  Additionally, make sure to have at least one hand firmly gripped on an overhead handle bar.  If you pretend to look cool (like I have witnessed time and time again from my carefully selected seat towards the back of the front train each morning) and ride with less than a "three pointed pose," it will be your luck that the conductor has a lead foot and brakes sporadically, or worse: abruptly stopping at least four times upon arriving to each station only to make sure his front train is perfectly aligned with their "stop-precisely-at-this-mark, Metro-system-conductors").  This, I'll have you know, makes the aforementioned witnessed cool "two pointed posed" rider lunge forward in dismay, surprise, and utter embarrassment.  If only they had read this post!  Nevertheless, just stick to any version of a "three pointed pose" if there are no seats available.  And trust me, the unsuspecting riders investing their trust in your cognizance will silently thank you for not falling into their laps.

Fourth, get into a routine--at least for the morning commute.  This is something I've learned to be quintessential each morning during my commute on the Orange line into DC (7:30am - 8:20am).  If you are a reader, like a former Metro commuter and colleague in my office has informed me, you can get through books upon books during your daily commutes.  However, if you ride half of your morning and evening commute with the sun beating through the windows and onto the seat you were fortunate enough to secure, fighting sleep becomes your daily routine.  

I have a Kindle (thank you, self, for having jumped the gun on a Christmas gift and getting it back in return).  I have a new iPad (thank you, Mom).  I occasionally pick up the Express newspaper that is handed--nay, forcefully given--to me each morning at the entrance to the New Carrollton station.  I also have an abundant supply of magazines along with the daily emails and education alerts that can be read on my Blackberry.  But for crying out loud, there is nothing short of getting slapped in the face that can keep me from closing my eyes, drifting in thought, and becoming complacent and/or losing a sense of time and place (read: nodding off).  This comatose phenomenon has become quite commonplace during my morning commute, but I've observed the more experienced riders are able to essentially set some sort of internal clock that alerts their circadian rhythm with the sound of cuckoo birds that it's time to disembark at their precise station.  This, unfortunately, is not something I've mastered.  Instead, I fall victim to nodding off and then coming to, but only to be one (or four) stops beyond my station where I disembark with my sleepy head held high, go up the escalators and walk across the wrong station, and take the escalator down catch the next train back to McPherson Square.  How truly humbling.

Nevertheless, I have found a fix to this problem beyond a good night's sleep, and it's seeking out the daily Washington Afro before boarding.  Needless to say, their reporting is timely, it works to keep my interest enough to stay awake for 30 minutes, and I've consistently arrived at my stop without the morning nod off!

Fifth, I have slowly picked up on the etiquette for Metro commuter people watching.  This is a more delicate kind of thing for commuters because you'll quickly realize that when you park and ride each morning, familiar faces begin to appear on your trains and in the seats around you.  However, those are not the people to watch.  It's people like me--the newbies to it all, or those going on their first day of a job or an interview, or better yet, the DC tourists. 

Yes, I can say it.  I have become captivated by the tourists who congregate on the Metro: the school groups, the church groups, the families, the couples, the newlyweds, the Tea Partiers, you name it.  I am so fascinated by their bright-eyed and early-Monday-morning-bushy-tailness to go visit a big marble memorial.  Like, where the hell did you get this energy to stare at some stone???  Can I get a fraction of that energy for my computer screen and a day filled with building Excel spreadsheets please?  Only kidding--I love my job.

Sixth, those damn broken escalators--especially at the end of the work day--are tumultuous for the flow of foot traffic.  There's something fascinating about a working escalator four out of five days a week that this all becomes second nature.  But when on the fifth day, the escalator is not working for whatever apparent reason, and everyone is forced to actually hoof it up and down "manually," the stopped escalator (read: STAIRCASE) becomes this freak of broken technology: so foreign, so archaic, and totally un-apropos!

Get over it people.  This broken technology is now called a set of stairs, and believe it or not, each step even has YELLOW PAINT TO HELP YOU OUT...

Lastly, there's the etiquette for the last stop on the metro line.  I have the luxury of parking and riding the Orange line where it both originates for my morning commute and terminates for my evening commute.  However, the Metro etiquette will remind us that, at the end of the work day or into the later part of the evening if you've had a few drinks for happy hour with friends, you really don't want to be "that person" who is aroused from a mid-evening nod off in his seat to find out from the conductor clearing the trains and picking up debris that it's the "LAST STOP! LAST STOP! WAKE UP AND GET OFF MY TRAIN!"  Yeah, once is enough for that, and I've learned.

So, there you have it.  Whether you're ready to make a trip to visit DC as a tourist or are interested in relocating to the suburbs of the Beltway, or if you just want a DCist perspective on the etiquette of riding the awesome DC Metro, I hope this will provide you with a good foundation for what to look for, what to (and what not to) do, and how to make yourself just blend in.  Plus, if you ride in from New Carrollton and PG County, blending in is not a bad thing whatsoever...

Next up on The Dandygram: Spending a Weekend Outside the Beltway.

Happy 4th of July!

From my family to yours, have a safe and happy 4th of July!  

Love from DC,

~Trevor