DEAR READERS:

After Dan and I had decided we were going to Washington, DC for a weekend, I knew that I wanted some unique way to tell the story of being back in one of my favorite cities. So, I came up with this writing assignment to challenge myself to see if I could write the story, fix it up and finish the entire project (writing with photos/video) under a small week long deadline.

Starting out on the trip, I still had no idea how I was going to write the story – let alone, what it was going to be about. I still had no idea what I was going to do until we were at a certain museum on Saturday, then it donned on me.

That moment was a perfect “Ah-hah. I know how I’m going to write this story and display it.” I felt as if it were one of those meant to be, we’re supposed to be here at this exact moment, because, if we weren’t, I wouldn’t have had a story.

This entirety of it - starting with the first blog entry to the very last one, is chocked full of some of the deepest feelings, statements, memories and references to how I think and how you may possibly actually begin to understand me. And, even after reading this, I can guarantee that you still won’t be able to understand me! Ha!

I do hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I did living it and then documenting it in such a way I’ll never forget. Enjoy the photos and videos, I had fun taking those, as well. This entire project is 100% written with truth – welcome to me.

If you have anything to say, please comment the entries.

Thanks for reading!
Karen-Maeby McCormick 

Dear Anne Frank,

Forty-two years later, on the very same day of which you stopped writing in your diary, was the day that I was born. The last entry of yours, you had discussed being a “bundle of contradictions” and that you were split between two personalities – the one that everyone knows and the one that only you know.

Today? This week? Last week? Perhaps it’s been my entire life so far? I have been fighting the same battle within myself, on different circumstances, ways to explain it and how, when or if one or the other personality shows up.  Or, if I really do have that problem. I am my own contradiction.

Just in the last month,  I was thrown on the path of self discovery… a personal journey to figuring out who I am (in general). And, once again, I am living by the quote of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” and the lyrics of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way,” and LeAnn Womack’s “I Hope You Dance.” The words… the words of the poem and two songs, they keep me going; they give the me strength to make decisions and move forward.

You once said that paper is more patient than people. After having read your diary when I was younger, I lived by that quote for the longest time. I didn’t really write to anyone particular, except in middle school when I wrote to “Wolfie.” I tried it, but it was quite awkward for me to write to a girl, considering boys seemed to have the goods of being quiet when you told them something. And, even though it was *JUST* paper, I still felt the comfort of writing to a male much better off for me.

I continued writing in diaries from middle school up until 2006. I had actually found an online journal website where I wrote from 2001 to 2009. That’s when my writing on paper kind of seized down, until I needed to share deeper thoughts that I just couldn’t bring myself to writing online. The online journals gave me a chance to read and share my life with others and get feedback via notes. Last year, I decided it was time to pack it up at that website and I never went back. I casually document entries via Posterous, but that’s about it. I haven’t trusted paper in so long, other than notes for stories and poetry. I need to find that comfort on paper once again.

Like you, while growing up, I had a hard time finding a friend to confide in. If the truth may still be out there, I still have a hard time letting myself go in front of people and letting them see the “true” me because I’m afraid what people would think, say or just in general, do. Basically it’s just a trust issue.

Who can I trust with my inner most feelings? Most people just don’t get me, like you thought they didn’t get you. Sometimes, as like you did, I find myself viewing myself as two people, the more reserved in front of people up against who I really am. Plus, what would people do with that information? Blackmail? Gossip? Ditch me as a friend? Support me? It’s more than likely the first two and then I’d feel really betrayed and I don’t want to walk back into that trap again. I don’t need that going on. At all.

And so, as I conclude this diary entry  I want to say that I have decided to write to you about my Washington, DC trip. I haven’t written much of anything, let alone a ‘real’ diary entry in so long. Granted this ISNT written on paper, but it will now be forever documented. As a friend that shares parallel thoughts, welcome to me, which oddly seems to be you many years ago… enjoy.

Your Friend,
Karen-Maeby

Dear Anne Frank,

At quitting time, I had to rush home from work because, like usual, I had not packed yet and we were leaving before 6pm for DC. I threw in as many different outfits as I could fit in the duffel bag, even though we only needed clothes for three days. If there were ever a need to be exact, I  wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said I had enough clothes packed for two weeks.

The drive wasn’t so bad. On the way there, I was reading an old notebook that I had written all of the news down for media class in 2003. I was puzzled by this note that was left in there “Hey Blueberry: Stay cool & sing loud.” I have no Earthly idea who left it or why I hadn’t seen it before. After I read through that notebook, I got into my Native American Literature notebook and looked around at my notes.

After about two hours, we stopped for dinner and by that time it was dark so I played on my phone, totally consumed in those full-blown Twitter conversations about – oh – the general: #bedclothes.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank,

At around 11pm, we pulled in to the Hilton Garden Inn parking lot. After checking in and finding out where our room was on the 4^th floor, we went downstairs and out through a lobby where a garden is presented. We went back through the security door, to the lobby, and I was just caught off guard by what was in front of the elevators.

Right where the perfectly carpeted stairs were, there was a huge American flag hanging. It was beautiful. I stopped to stare at it for a few minutes because, at that moment, I was reminded again why I love America. In my mind, I immediately flashed back to my Philadelphia trip in 2003 where we had viewed the Betsy Ross house.

There was also an area with slots for a phone booth. That was awesome considering the fact that almost everyone has cell phones nowadays. My mind instantly flashed into a scene where someone was standing beside the phones, waiting for a very important call. This person would be nervously impatient.

When the elevator opened, we hopped on and went to our room.

Basically, walking in the hotel room was also amazing. Our room had the most awesome green curtains with white in the middle where the blinds are. Placed in front of the window, on either sides, was a small wooden desk and a green single seat with foot recliner, which was also green.

We crawled into bed around midnight and that was it….The bed took us into its comforting arms and we were out.  

Your Friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank,

It was 7am on Saturday, when the sun started shining through our window in the hotel room. I embraced the sheer fact that I was waking up in Washington, DC once again.

DC, America’s capital, comes in second for being a favorite city of mine. The first being Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love, and also the city of which I laid my heart. I often call Philly my heart city because if I had to choose, that’d be the perfect city for me due to the arts, sculptures around the city and history that place has, as well as the laid back environment of which sets on Market Street.

There’s just something with me and the city. A big something. It’s the city life, it’s the tourism, it’s the history. You go to these places to learn the birthing of the US and physically SEE so many other historical beginnings. I have such an attachment to older things – the tall old buildings, plantation houses, history of way back when. I think it’s the feeling of knowing and the happiness that we know.

Your Friend,
Karen-Maeby

"How noble and good everyone could be if, every evening before falling asleep, they were to recall to their minds the events of the whole day and consider exactly what has been good and bad. Then without realizing it, you try to improve yourself at the start of each new day." 
— Anne Frank 

Dear Anne Frank,

We had to be out of our hotel room at 10am to meet the hotel shuttle at the front doors to be carried to the metro. While on the metro, I thought of Arwen as the voice over the intercom says “step back, doors closing.” I remembered that she wrote an answer to a Formspring question that she’d like to be that voice.

So, we got off the metro at the zoo stop and rode an escalator that took 2.5 minutes to go up. Once we got half way, I couldn’t look down. Someone was wanting me to move over so they could get through and I told them to find their way to the center because I my hand and body was NOT leaving the side rail, since I am afraid of heights.

As soon as we got there we followed the signs and went in the direction to the Panda Station. We ate lunch there and it was actually not too expensive for it being in Washington, DC and the zoo. 

After resting a while after eating our food, we went to walk around the zoo for a bit. The most we got to look at in the zoo was a panda eating bamboo, the back end of a zebra, an elephant, a few random birds on the bird trail and flamingo fights of a flock of flamingos.

After walking there and back around, we passed an exhibit that’s being worked on from ground up. It completely looked like they were not projecting it as an exhibition for animals but an area for my #bedclothes, #fajb and Pitchmen group to have one amazing ball pit party. I thought of all of my Twitter friends while there, at the zoo, passing by that area. I would have tweeted that, hadn’t my cell phone completely junked out and died….like it purposely did the entire trip.

The most interesting part about the zoo, for me, was seeing the flamingos. However, my whole childhood has been masked a lie. Why, you ask? I found out that flamingos are not pink – they are actually bright orange. Whoever said they were pink (other than the feet and very back tail feathers) were colored blind and/or seriously deranged. Orange is NOT the new pink!

I must say I have never seen animals carry on like they did. The whole group, at one point, was standing on one leg trying to bite and fight with one another. Also, the song De Animals a-Comin’ was going through my head the entire time of this zoo visit. It was a song that the guys group sang in choir. 

Oh, and to end this note… One funny thing did happen, though, while at the zoo. There was this woman that wore a shirt saying  “You’ll never get lucky with me.” Yes, indeed; you wouldn’t have wanted to. Just.. saying.

Your Friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank,

I love riding the metro. I have no idea where it comes from, but I just enjoy it. Rode my first train in Chicago in year 2007 and it’s been love ever since, I think. It’s a big part of “the city life” because it’s a main way to have access to everywhere, easily avoiding the horrible traffic that has become of the cities.

There’s also something about thinking back to the days of travel where mainly did by train. Again, I wasn’t “in” those days but I think back on them like I was. It’s sometimes like I pause my life and daydream about being on a train, reading and writing with twelve more hours to go until reach the destination. It’s jus t something else I feel.

In addition: It’s kind of ironic that the beginning/ending main stop for us was the Vienna metro stop. Every time I hear “Vienna” I think Austria, Mozart AND the 1700s. Why else is this ironic? Because I often think about being in one of the big cities (Philly or DC) when it’s snowing and riding throughout the city in a horse and carriage. Of which, the horse and carriage ALSO reminds me of Vienna. I know this has nothing to do with metro trains – but, since we were already on the subject of a form of travel…

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank ,

People watching on the metro is amazing. Everyone should try it at least once.

There was this younger girl on our first ride that looked like she had walked out of “In the Heights” musical. Out of the corner of my I could see her twirling her hair and lip singing, possibly to something she was looking over in the pamphlet in her hand.

There was this Asian couple that shared ear-buds to an iPod. They reminded me of the Asian couple on Secret Life of the American Teenager. I wondered if they were the clone couple.

When the metro was packed, there was this 40ish year old guy dressed really nice standing up in the center in front of us. He looked important and I wondered if he was. He looked mighty familiar.

On one of the rides, when it was our turn to stand up because it was full, we stood behind this guy that was working on his Mac. He was probably a student. He had closed out of one of his programs and I almost shit seeing his desktop all a mess with icons everywhere, even worse than mine.

We also stood by this African American woman that had a broken arm. She had three kids, two sitting with her and one across the way. The little girl was wanting to sleep and she kept yelling at her, telling her not to sleep on the metro. I can imagine with that small of kids, it’d be nerve wrecking to have on the metro with that many people, let alone by herself.

On the last ride back, there was this mother with three kids and a grandmother. I wondered what their story was because they seemed like odd folks, but generally happy and friendly. I wondered if their dad was in their lives by the way the boy was sort of acting up. They also had disposable cameras. Who uses those anymore? I thought disposable cameras were extinct by now!

On that same ride, there was this white guy with a black girl standing in front of us holding on to the center pole. From the way they were talking and never once took their eyes off each other, you could just tell they were in love. This huge cloud of amazing aura was ringing around them.

There was also this elderly woman who was by herself. It looked like she had a few groceries in the cloth bags that she was carrying. When she got off at one of the stops,  she hopped off the metro like she does it quite often.

I “studied” tons more people but that’s the ones I took mental notes of the most. Just something about each one of them, all of the families or individuals or stories being different.

The whole time I was wondering what each person did and how they play a part in America. At one point, of each ride,  my mind kept going back to this scene in Rent. The one where the group was on the train singing “Santa Fe.” 

Several times throughout our ride today… There were times where the metro was so full that everyone was huddled together. I smiled to myself, thinking, this IS America. There are all kinds of people with all kinds of differences and likes, packed together, not minding and stuck in their own conversations in their own life while around complete strangers.

This is America. And, above all, I simply love the diversity.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank,

After the zoo, we headed to the Postal Museum. It was awesome!! As soon as we opened the doors, got checked in with security, my memory was jogged. I remembered being there in year 2000, when my 8^th grade class went. I even remembered how excited I was then about this experience.

The best part of the Postal Museum was The Pony Express. I knew about the Pony Express from a cassette collection of stories that my aunt had given me many years back. Even though I had already seen that exhibit before, I was more than excited to go back and refresh my memory.

What’s so interesting was that of the photo directly above. “Romance VS Reality.”  I know that they were talking about the Pony Express, but instantly, as soon as I saw this, I thought about daily life. So, what IS romance vs. reality?

But then again, let me ask you what exactly IS “what is”? What is definitely is reality. Reality is what you have your hands on right now, romance the loveliness of dreams, what may come when and if it is supposed to. I could go on forever about this subject, but I think you get the point.

Another part I loved was seeing the hand written letters hanging in picture frames along the wall. O- my heart!!!! I loved seeing the lettering written from a feather pen. I’ve owned quite a few “fake” ones in my life and I would actually love to have a real “feather” pen one day.  And, if I ever did, I would write with that pen in all of the Christmas cards I send out. Sentimental value.

I was actually pretty excited to see some of the stamp collections in there, considering I see some of that at my work place and it means more to me now than it ever did. It’s like, ‘hey – I just got to touch (or see) some of this stuff from ages ago seeing this old stuff is amazing.’ A few weeks prior to this trip, my boss had let me see a Mark Twain fold up letter where you wrote in the middle of it and folded that same paper into an envelope to send it out. I found some samples of that on a wall inside one of the stamp exhibits. I was quite the excited one when I knew what it was!

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby 

Dear Anne Frank,

Before we left on this DC trip, I started listening to “Inscription of Hope” being sung by various choirs on YouTube. “Inscription of Hope” has quite the meaning for me since all of the choirs I was around, helped out with or sang in always tackled this song at least once.  

The beginning starts out like this:

I believe in the sun 

even when it is not shining. 

And I believe in love 

even when there's no one there. 

And I believe in God

even when He is silent

I believe through any trial

there is always a way.

The words from "Inscription of Hope" were inscribed on the walls of a cellar in Cologne, Germany, where Jews were hiding from the Nazis during World War II. 

Just hearing this song gives me hope.

Your friend,
Karen-Maeby