Demons in My Britches

I can't help but use Greg's iconic name to title this post, since he wrote it in high school and the name sums up the feeling of those years. I will try to use a little tact and restraint when writing this post, but the topic at hand is a risque yet meaningful one: sexual adolescence and the fucked-up mind of a teenage boy.

Having always found the sex drive somewhat painful and distracting in life in general, the peak years of the agony were from grades 6 to 10, I'd say. Although I'd already had some crushes prior to this (see here), middle school was when the insatiable snake known as sexual lust began to rear its head. I remember Carl Athey in sixth grade gym telling me about porn Web sites for the first time. Of course back in that day (pre-high-speed Internet, which still hasn't really come to Waterford) it was pictures only, but it was a very exciting time. God knows how many girls I fantasized about in our grade, but it was a lot. It was really just frustrating, because I think for the vast majority of us, we had completely no luck or even hope with girls back then. I know I didn't. There was a long time in my life where I didn't think I would ever have a girlfriend, certainly not have sex. I don't know how many people had it in middle school, but I would say compared to the rest of the world, the numbers in Loudoun County were probably pretty low (I'm sure if you look at a graph with income per capita it would show that the richer areas have people losing their virginities at a later date, and as we've mentioned before, you don't get much richer than Loudoun).

Anyways, this continued for the first few years of high school. As I commented on Matt's post, Greg and I would come up with lists of the hottest girls in our grade/school--a complex process that took place over a week or two and involved much thought and planning. On the whole, I felt we had a very accurate list, although unfortunately I do not have it anymore. Lisa Gillenwater and Kristy Clark were definitely the top two picks on both of our lists, though. They were icons.

Looking back on girls I liked back in the day, it seems obvious that I really only liked girls based on their looks and then constructed some elaborate backstory in my head about what their personality was really like. This had no basis in reality. I would romanticize them, I'm sure knowing full well that I would never, ever date them or anything, and imagine that they were something they were not. Probably the same thing happened on girls' part everywhere. Thought unintentional, it was basically a complete objectification of girls' looks, which still happens to a degree and probably still happens completely with a lot of guys my age.

I think what changed junior year is that I actually really started talking to girls--and not just ones I lusted over. I became more comfortable with the opposite sex. The first girl I would consider a non-lustful crush in high school was Brandi Shackleford. We both ran cross country back when we were sophomores, and were both the fastest in our grades. Looking back this was a poor choice on my part, but at least we actually talked and hung out some. Ultimately I feel like she was just fucking with me, but those were the early years for me. After that, I heard many a story involving her, but I cannot say whether these are true or false, since we never had much contact after sophomore year. It seems like she changed a lot, and obviously did not run cross country anymore. This almost seems like a shame to me, since she had some pretty genuine talent and ran a 20:00 5K sophomore year from my memory. But then again, who cares about those things but me?

Then there was my infamous crush on Johanna Faroe. Now some people who were there at the time will make a lot bigger deal out of this than it was. But in any case, I liked her probably because she talked with me and we had a good rapport (Jake smiles somewhere in heaven). Looking back, I was probably a self-esteem boost for her, but oh well, she's not a bad person and we still talk some. This was one of your quintessential dating-but-not-doing-anything relationships. I mean, what the fuck? At this point in my life it seems ridiculous to spend so much time with a girl and not even hook up and for me not to get a relationship out of it. But I was young and inexperienced with girls, so I went along with what I could get (this is not to put her down, but I didn't exactly push harder for anything more). For a very long time (and still), I was definitely sexually insecure and had some kind of underlying fear of girls/relationships/my sex drive, etc. But that is a twisted psychological story that cannot be delved into easily in this post/on Demons in My Britches (except through popular demand!). So that is probably another reason why I didn't care that much about pushing things farther physically.

Anyways, around this time I also started liking Alex Vlk, who became my first real girlfriend (Lizzie Christy holds the awesome title of first girlfriend in general, and I hope to fuck I'm spelling her name right here or she will kill me). I remember when I started hanging out with Alex more and more (which felt very natural with her for some reason), Johanna got upset and asked me out, which was strange, but I guess was just her way of trying to get me back even though she probably didn't really like me very seriously in that way. Anyways, I eventually lost my virginity to Alex and dated her for a long time, and what a long, strange trip that was, mostly because of me and my bouts of self-destruction which can be read about in other parts of the blog!

Sorry for this long, rambling, pointless post. But there it is. Demons in my fucking britches.

--Edward

The West is the Best: Weird Scenes Inside a Goldmine

So we talk a lot about Western Loudoun on here, but I kinda want to hear more about the far-off smog and congestion of Eastern Loudoun. Did anyone else growing up in Western Loudoun feel like anything from Leesburg on out east was the ghetto? The rolling hills, farms, and minority-free school systems of Western Loudoun (especially pre-development boom around the time we were in middle school) raised us in a sort of fairytale, idyllic paradise (or at least that's what it seems like looking back). We all heard stories about there being lots of fights, drugs, and sex in schools as probably nice as Loudoun County High School, Stone Bridge, Potomac Falls, etc. I imagine now that there are so many housing developments in Western Loudoun--so many people in general, as they are creating more and more schools in the western part of the county--the county has a pretty similar make-up across the board, although of course there are still going to be more minorities and lower-income people in the east. But it's not the great divide it once was.

We should get some feedback on here from people who grew up in Eastern Loudoun about what it's like over there and how they perceived us in the west. The great stereotype is that they didn't even know we existed. And I've never really been proven wrong on that. I've met so many people from Ashburn and Sterling who don't even know Waterford exists, and who've never been to Purcellville.

--Edward

Sushi's Corner

I'd just like to make it known... that a dog has it's own column in the Blue Ridge Leader.


http://brleader.com/?category_name=sushis-corner


And yes, in case you were wondering, I am abusing my power here because this absolutely deserved an entirely new post.

Booze Cruising Loudoun

Not that I have the most experience in this, I guess I have enough. Bethany brought up all she needed to in her most recent post to spur this on. Loudoun Nightlife. The big plunge into organized drinking out in the open, all vulnerable, no basement, attic, or garage to take solace in with your friends. These bars leave it all on the field. Whatever that means.

For the rundown:

- the Dock: this ain't even a bar anymore, HA. known for its distinctly wealthy, older, and notable weirdness in its clientele; this pod is set in a Fischer Price town with shops and restaurants in the middle of an outer ring of parking lot and even more outer ring of townhouses. We did manage to run into James Jones here and it took about five minutes of both of us expressing shock for meeting accidentally there. I don't know if any of us ever recovered.

- Clyde's: here we go. Wanna go to a place where they got carriages above your head and you wouldn't be out of place to be wearing red blazers, black ass tight riding pants, and topped off with a fox-belly scarf? Find yourself right at home with the 2004 varsity softball champs, the 1997 all-state golf team, and the 1993 men's basketball semi-finalists, not to mention all of their closest fans who know the importance of a varsity sport being the testicles of a town. We've ended up here more than I'd like to admit. Matt and I got free drinks from a 40 something year old man talking to us about how he wishes he were closer with his son. That's probably all I should have said in the first place about Clyde's.

- The Conference Center: not actually the name of the bar - not sure if it has a name, but this is exactly that, a conference center bar where I doubt anyone else even really knows about, but we went there once and that's enough to make this list. The best part about this place is that it's like being on a big boat with a bunch of random strangers you probably won't ever see again. The worst part about this place is that it feels like you're on a big boat with a bunch of strangers, and that's weird. They did have karaoke, and I did sing Gangster's Paradise, and I was awful, so there's always that. If you're ever on an acid trip driving around Ashburn (god forbid) you might end up here. Side effects may vary.

- Bunkers: didn't there used to be a Peebles here? The department store with the mannequins sitting ominously in the rafter looking down on you with their stone white faces. Something about going to a bar sitting at the back of one of the biggest parking lots in Leesburg is terribly wrong. And when such a place would lead someone to say, "let's get there before they start charging a cover," you know you gotta get the fuck out of town. I'll keep my five dollars and go gorge myself on two and a half Gold Rush Chicken Sandwiches over at Roy Rogers thank you. I can't say a whole lot about what it's actually inside this place considering I've been there only a couple times, during which I became increasingly paralyzed by how many people I recognized and could not physically talk to yet couldn't stop staring at.

- Shenanigan's: I've never been here and I don't really care to change that. Although I did hear that they have a good stock of girls with unibrows.

- Magnolia's: Loudoun Valley Graduate School. Find yourself a stool and begin the time-ticking until someone grabs you from behind and hugs you for sharing Earth Science class together 16 years prior. Either that or just keep playing eye-contact tag with the stand-offish acquaintances while both of you try to remember each other's names. Best get the most alcoholic beer on the menu (of which there a good amount) and stagger out to Jose's before you do anything really stupid here. Although apparently Matt Kopp ripped his shirt off here and wasn't kicked out until 20 min had passed, so who knows.

- Jose's: a skip and a gallop away, it waits for you, ready to relieve you from the bright light Purcellville bubbly and almost nauseating atmosphere of Magnolia's. Here you can make it to the ever empty bathroom and back again in two steps. There are also much more interesting people that wind up here, whether non-English speaking or 40-50 year old women, you'll fit right in after a few mugs. But god forbid you get stuck here with a HS alum you don't want to talk to, because the bar is about as big as matchbox. Frequent cigarette breaks are inevitable here even for the non-smoker.

- Greene Turtle: fuck this place. I don't know much of anything about it, other than the three or so times I ending up here were: one, sweaty, crowded, and deafening; two, empty, uncomfortably bright, and impossible to get the check; and three, there was a five buck cover - we didn't go in.

- Balls Bluff/King's Court Tavern: I'm not sure which of the down or upstairs is which, but this is pretty much the only decently comfortable bar around, and one where you might run into some people you don't mind talking to or hell, you might even want to talk to! They apparently have metal music, plus your normal acoustic bar fare, darts, and other crap that helps a lot. It's also not in the middle of a parking lot but rather right in the thick of sweet old town of Leesburg. I really don't have any complaints about it here. Imagine that.

- Payne's Biker Bar: or just Payne's? I guess they changed the name when they reopened to turn a new leaf from some kind of notorious past of substance abuse and manliness, at a biker bar, how could they? I actually don't know anything about it, but encourage you to comment about it if you do. I've only been here once, last weekend, and I was quite happy with it. It was mostly empty, but felt like an actual bar, one to get beers, to complain and sulk and laugh and cry about life, and to eventually, when you're getting to your weakest, hit on what are in all likelihood fugly older women; dangerous game. Like Balls Bluff, it's a relief from rest of Loudoun and parking lots and varsity sports teams. I probably will end up going back to pummel my liver in the not so distant future.

- The Beautiful South: the name should give a lot away already. It's set on the edge of Hamilton, not even in the tiny town but on the outskirts, like a roadside bar except instead of truckers, there are mechanics, farmers, construction workers, drifters, family men, girls next door, and your all-American strangers. The fact that it most resembles Moe's from the Simpsons of all the bars I've been to should say something. There's not a whole lot to do other than drink. And they also have music. Oh and a deck. But you can beer your face while doing those things to. This is to the country what Balls Bluff Tavern is to the town. You can't really go wrong with either.

I'm sure there are many other bars around Loudoun that probably deserve to be mentioned, so I'm counting on everyone else to bring them up. Regardless, the bottom line is you're best off just drinking in your back yard or finding a mountain or field to drink in if you're looking to booze in Loudoun.

My Impressions of the Loudoun Towns

What follows is a scholarly account of the various communities of the county of Loudoun. Please keep discussion civil:

Waterford: The locus of Loudoun County. The hub of the universe. What else can I say? I kid. As I’ve said earlier, growing up here was a lot of fun. It’s notorious for its snobby, aristocratic attitude, which masquerades itself as historical purity to circumvent the straight-up rich disdain of places like Middleburg, a place with much less white guilt than Waterford. Perhaps many in Loudoun hate Waterford because of this self-righteous liberalism. I think all the complaints about slow speed limits and preservation and what-have-you are really just politics, and ultimately I’m not sure what the root differences in psychology are between liberals and conservatives (in fact, Loudoun County’s branch of liberals are pretty conservative themselves in regards to a lot of things other than politics), but in any case, as Bethany has said, there is a lot of grousing and bullyknocking from the other, genetically inferior residents of Loudoun towards Waterford.

Really, I couldn’t give much less of a fuck about this, because it’s a nice little village (not a town, since it’s unincorporated and lacks a showy mayor strolling around and hitting on girls half his age) with some beautiful stuff. It also has the pool, which I believe we’ve posted on before and dominated a large part of our childhoods. My pick for the #1 town in Loudoun, but yes, this is incredibly biased.

Leesburg: The real hub and locus of Loudoun County, it is also the capital and I assume most populous town in Loudoun. Although notorious for its increasingly rampant strip malls and rows of townhouses on the outskirts, I still think of the downtown when I think of Leesburg, and it’s not a bad one. I think of running along the bike trail past Loudoun County High School or even the famous Bermuda Triangle of Leesburg, which is the lost area which houses the ABC liquor store (complete with the surly employee who sure as fuck is not going to card you for that bottle of Mr. Boston or Bacardi [if you are trying to get laid]), Roy Rogers, Safeway, and now the workplace of all Loudoun Valley High School graduates—Verizon. It’s not very unusual for a town of its size, but that’s not really a bad thing. At least it has a pretty big downtown area. No, it’s not just by the courthouse, but expands from the Ida Lee out to areas like Loudoun County High School out to Blockbuster (fuck the Blockbuster in Purcellville).

Purcellville: An area I’ve avoided since high school because of all the types that Bethany mentions who I don’t want to see. I’m sorry, but after I graduated I don’t want to be associated with the post-grads like Taylor Dooley or Greg Rickert who go after the Valley chicks for years afterwards and basically just stay in some sort of grey area locally forever (meaning until now). I have mostly through my years associated Purcellville only with school, since that was about my only reason to venture into it. Perhaps this has left a sour taste on my mouth. The better parts of town are the parts towards the west side, with the community center and the bike trail, etc. I’m sure it’s different if you grew up here, but I’ve just always associated it with the annoying kids of Valley—the bad kids who would hang around smoking cigarettes in the parking lot because they actually had parking lots in their town, unlike ours. Because of my avoidance of it, I tend not to really know much about it, so take that as you will.

Hamilton: This always seemed like a stop between Waterford and Purcellville, but I do not mean that in a bad way. I like Hamilton because it seems like a normal small town without any sort of redneck or white guilt prejudice, which are the two battles continually being fought in Loudoun County (the white guilt one is obviously winning, and has defeated the rest of NOVA a very, very long time ago). I haven’t particularly gone to it very often, other than Ashley Wallace’s house, but I always felt it was a nice place. It also had the best playground in the county growing up. I believe we went to the elementary school there for FUTURA in elementary school. I associate this town with house league soccer and rattails.

Lincoln: The famed moral battleground in the dissolution of the Waterford trio of me, Daniel, and Greg. Daniel remained neutral, Greg sided with Round Hill, and I sided with Lincoln. Known for its wide variety of strange denizens, from Luke Burgher to Kristin Feickert to the Faroes to Kyle Anderberg, they seemed to have a pretty tight-knit town actually, probably because they seemed to have so many people of the same age and temperament. It’s notable for its easy-going spirit, perhaps fostered by its Quaker roots, as well as being the site of many back roads where Loudoun Valley kids got high for the first time in the backseat of a Jeep with Taylor Dooley driving. There was a period where James Jones and I went here every day, and it was a great one. I like how it’s set up, with its dirt roads along the forest, instead of having a real downtown area.

Lovettsville: Apparently this is the rival of Waterford, but who knew? Again, I haven’t been to it all that much, other than to go to Molly Darr’s house and occasionally drive through it. Seems like a nice enough place. It distinctly has a feel of more backwoods than even the rest of Western Loudoun, especially when you look at the window and a mountain is looming ever closer, like the moon slowly grinning its way towards the earth in The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask. Bethany says it has a Confederate vibe, and I’m not sure if this is true myself because of limited experience, but it definitely feels like more of a rural town than others.

Hillsboro: My connections to this small town (I believe it also might be unincorporated) are twofold: my ex-girlfriend Alex lived here right off Rt. 9 and my grandmother’s house has always been here. This town is a bit darker and seedier than the rest of Loudoun, probably due to its place on the way to the racetracks of Charleston, WVA. It is basically nothing more than a collection of houses right off Rt. 9, but it has an air of gambling and boozing and unshaven rednecks about it, and it’s best to watch your step here, in my opinion. Things get different in Loudoun the farther west you go, even past supposedly Western Loudoun places like Purcellville and Waterford.

Lucketts/Taylorstown: Very small parts of Loudoun tucked away in the corners, I learned from my mom yesterday that Taylorstown is named after my dad’s ancestor who settled there around 1730, first as an indentured servant. Does anyone actually go to these places? I think not.

Round Hill: The “bad boy” of Loudoun County, this was Greg’s moral homebase during the war waged in the hearts of Waterford. Full of kids who started smoking when they were 13 and who had no qualms about showing that off to girls a sixth younger than them, it actually feels like a town that has some semblance of unity that we missed out on in Waterford when I go there, however infrequently. I think the fact that it has a diner lends itself an air of small-town togetherness. I wish we had that in Waterford. That is Waterford’s greatest weakness: it has no real sense of unity, other than a incredibly self-righteous sense of white guilt liberalism, probably because it really has no fun hang-out spots for people to gather in. In Waterford there is a tremendous sense of behind-closed-doors cattiness among the residents that I suspect does not exist in the other communities. Mostly because the people are all rich and retired, so they can afford to do such things. Round Hill has always been a community of posing bad boys, but in comparison to Hillsboro, it really seems kind of quaint.

Middleburg: This is a rich place, but at least it has no bones about showing that it is what it is. I don’t particularly come here often, but it’s known for its horses of course. I believe Jackie Kennedy once lived here, although I might be mistaken on that one. She at least owned a store or visited or something. I would say these people are snobby and all dicks, but then again I’ve never met any of them. I suppose Daniel has had closer encounters with them (described here).

Upperville: Haha, what else can I say about this place other than James Jones? Wild-child and the ultimate hedonist of Loudoun County, everyone hates him now, but only me and Daniel and perhaps Johanna Faroe and Molly seem to remember how great of a kid he used to be. I couldn’t care less what he has done since, he was a charismatic person, the Jim Morrison of his generation, degrading into bloated filth and excess, but none of us can forget the glory years of his youth. Perhaps a sign of his demise was when his family moved to Beacon Hill, which is an annoying “suburb” of Waterford full of McMansions. On a side note, does anyone think that any of these houses even look nice? When you see nice, old stone houses in various parts of Loudoun of equal size and much more beautiful architecture, it makes the crappy, ready-made mansions in these areas look very paltry in comparison. But most people in NOVA have never seen beautiful architecture, so they continue to see these large pleasure palaces as signs of wealth and prestige, when in reality they won’t be around for more than a generation or so and the old historical homes will still be standing and admired for a long time (at least if the Waterford Foundation doesn’t give up its battle and lets them all be bulldozed).

Paeonian Springs: Um, well I like the downtown part, mostly just because it has the bike trail. I’m not even sure if this is a town or not. Perhaps someone else can give a better take on it.

Ashburn: Home of the dull, listless sirens that seem to lure those who remain in Loudoun, this is an area I’m rather not fond of, but unfortunately I also work here. It lacks any sort of town spirit like the ones I described above in Loudoun County. Basically just a development of endless townhouses and shopping complexes, this is truly an area devoid of personality, much like its residents. I can’t imagine ever wanting to live here, although Heather from my work wanted to live here, probably because she grew up here. This is going to sound incredibly snobby, but I don’t give a fuck because I grew up in Waterford, but when I think of people who grew up in Ashburn, I think of those who grew up texting instead of reading, and losing their virginity at age 13. I haven’t ever really been proven wrong on this.

Sterling: While it’s another pseudo-suburban wasteland like Ashburn, it at least feels less like upper-middle-class white, non-intellectual paradise than Ashburn does, because of its multitude of immigrants, whether they are Hispanic or Vietnamese or Pakistani or whatever. It feels a little bit less annoying for that reason. On the flipside, it probably has the worst crime in the county. But then again, I don’t live there, so I don’t worry about it. Traffic around Drainesville Road is always a sinkhole, and lends some credibility to the name of that road. The area around Borders was pretty depressing to work in, though, and Sterling is basically just an infinite number of lines of townhouses heading back towards the airport. God help those who live here.

Bluemont: I’m throwing this in at the end. I forgot about it. It defines the southwestern corridor of Loudoun, high up on the mountain towards Winchester, and reminds me of something almost out of Lord of the Rings because of that mountain. For that reason alone, it’s a bit of a romantic town for me. My only experiences with it really are through Kelley Anderson and Terry Daley. I like both of them, so therefore I like the town. I’ve never been to its annual fair however.

--Edward

Is it just me or...

Does the "nightlife" of Loudoun County scare you? I'm telling you-- the concept of grabbing a drink at "Magnolias" in Purcellville or "Shenanigans" in Leesburg makes me so frightened to the core of my being that I could cry. I don't know if it's the atmosphere of the establishments themselves, or just the notion of running into people that I really, really, really do not want to see. I'm honestly nervous just typing this... like at any given moment I'm going to be kidnapped from my home and taken to "Bunkers" and forced to sit down and "catch up" with the Everhart twins, or Alex Byrd. I think this will become a recurring nightmare for me...

Sugar Coat Much?

How did they forget the Wal-Mart in Leesburg and the TWO 7-11 in Purcellville, among many other great attractions?

West(Loudoun)side Story: A Tale of Two Towns

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way."

So waxed the grand master of realist prose himself, Mr. Charles Dickens, when reflecting deliberately, purposefully upon the state of affairs in the kingdom of Western Loudoun County--A geographical area so tersely travailed by the rabid rivalry that has taken hold of two townships for the last half century. Yes, the towns in which I refer to are, in fact, Lovettsville and Waterford. Not since the days of the Punic Wars, when Rome's resplendent conquering of Carthage was dubbed the day the earth did tremble, have two villages so vehemently been at odds with one another. And the Children of the earth did cry out, "What hath God wrought?"

I often find myself postulating about the modern remake of the film, "West Side Story" (no I don't), wondering if it will, in fact, be set in our modest dominion. In this revival, I will most certainly play the young Maria, a girl from the wrong side of the tracks, desperately dreaming of life abounding in the town where the grass is really greener. You see, since I was a child, I was very much aware of the inherent idiosyncrasies of my beloved hometown. I knew that Lovettsville was a community rapt with country bumpkin bucolic charm. I was well acquainted with the Redneck (You're damn right I'm capitalizing this word. Show some respect, people) raucous hang-out spot dubbed "the Pit"--a parking cul de sac in the middle of town, nestled in by our claim to fame (the 7-11) wherein the hicks of Lovettsville all would commune together to recount the absurdities of a day in the life of the modern farm worker/construction worker/bus driver/whatever the hell kind of goddamn profession these men had. I knew that country radio stations were the only presets in the automobiles owned by my neighbors, and that Roy Rogers fast food was preferred over any newfangled McDonald's Happy Meal. Conversations were simple, and social gatherings always involved strawberry wine and grain alcohol. My proverbial garden was indeed small, but life was sweet, sublime, stainless.

Fast forward to the sixth grade when I became friends with an expansive crop of kids, hailing from all over the county. The first true "best friend" I recruited went by the name of Sarah Cross; we bonded over our mutual love of 1950s culture, broadway musicals, and all things Elvis Presley. I remember recounting to my mother the fresh information I'd expertly gathered from Sarah when asking permission to have my first middle school sleepover at Miss Cross' abode. The look on her typically unassuming face when she heard the words "she's from Waterford," have been forever ingrained in my now riddled psyche. "What's wrong?" I so intriguingly inquired. What followed in her guarded explanation has heretofore shaped my views on societal intersubjectivity. Like the very moment when Romeo learns that his Juliet was spawned from the Montague's arch nemesis, my world imploded in upon me.

How could I have been so blind? After this life-altering exchange, I began gathering various forms of insight regarding the intricacies of said rivalry. The first morsel of malice I picked up on: most Waterford residents don't actually know there is a dueling opposition between them and Lovettsvillians (Ha--how aptly dubbed!). They don't know, or they pretend not to know. Every Lovettsville citizen that has lived in the town for more than ten years will be completely well versed on the general distaste for all things Waterford. We're taught by our elders to harbor certain resentments when referring to our classier neighbors. For instance, the overall attitude of the town itself: so quiet, so quaint, so charming, so fancy... all of these attributes are used to sarcastically point out the underlying sense of snob mentality that permeates Waterford culture (or should I say "H20ford,"... oh yeah, we hate that stupid nickname, too). Then, there is the communal mantras perpetuated by the township itself. The bumper stickers reading "20 means 20 in Waterford," referring to the speed limit within the town, the fucking Waterford Fair and all that entails, the goddamn school house and stories of field trips to that sacred sanctum of Waterfordness, the infamous pink house in the middle of town, and the overall acknowledgement that the majority of Waterford residents are innately bred liberals. In part, Lovettsvillians must be suffering from a deep-rooted sense of demonic jealousy and disappointment in themselves, fearing their own unsophisticated, childish and backwoods behaviors are never measuring up to Waterford--their metaphorical, overachieving older sibling.

This is where I come in as the prodigal anomaly. As soon as I befriended Sarah Cross and spent my first night away within the walls of whimsical Waterford, I became acutely aware of my own heritage and geographical shortcomings, wishing so intensely that I could have grown up in the national historic landmark itself. I soon became fast friends with a one Miss Aubrey Clendenin, Mr. Joshua Nesbit, Lauren Dennis, Caitlin Nicholson, Tim Cotter, Nick Clarke, and Greg Rickert (funnily enough, it wasn't until 9th grade that I truly became friends with Edward and Daniel. I blame this entirely on them). Oh, how I lamented the day when I'd have one of these classy cronies over to my humble house, set amongst the trees on a dirt road in Lovettsville. Were they too aware of the conflict of interest involved in our young friendship? If they were, they never showed it. My parents became weary over the time I spent pleading with them to move me into the city limits of Waterford; I promised them a multitude of perks (better grades, a better social life, a better appreciation of living history) that would undoubtedly follow after my relocation. Clearly, they never took stock in my burning desires to be transformed into a little Waterfordian debutante. I did my best to include myself into the culture of the town--spending as much time as I possibly could between Aubrey and Sarah's houses, even going so far as to date Greg Rickert, a local. Though I did have momentary glimpses of glory wherein I was so fully embraced by H20ford's citizens, I felt that, on the whole, I wore a gold star that would forever tip off all residents to my true nature.

And so it is— I stayed a Lovettsville resident throughout my youth and into my high school career. I was shipped off to college, I traveled the world, living in Manhattan and LA intermittently, and I've recently come full circle, returning back to the place from whence I came. They say you can never go home again, but here I am, as I live and breathe. My first day back in Lovettsville, after such an extended vacation from Virginia in general, was existentially uprooting to say the very least. After years of inner turmoil, wishing I'd sewn roots in Waterford Elementary's school grounds, spent my youth volunteering for the fair, came home each college break to the darling, meandering streets of the town that time hasn't tainted, I believe I've ultimately experienced a complete reversal of my own psychosis. Though I cannot yet divulge the details of my change of heart, I do know that I inexplicably enjoy the town of Lovettsville today more than present-day Waterford. Sure it has it's obvious flaws; the "squircle" that leads you into a complete cluster-fuck every time you try to drive towards the post office, the hillbilly connotations that pervade even now, the lack of jovial communal gatherings, the absolute reverence for all things Confederate, and the absence of any beautiful women, to name a few. But, in my own modest (yeah right) opinion that none of you are even asking for, I feel that Lovettsville has something Waterford never did, and never could— avidity, zest, earnestness, pep, irreverence, or, a total disregard for social graces or morality, in essence. Lovettsville has some bruises, some dirt under her fingernails. Waterford perpetually stands in full regalia and grace.

That is not to say Waterford should not still be revered as a haven of history and ineffable magnetism. Quite the opposite, really! Waterford is a mecca of all things charming and could truly never be tarnished by the curse of time— I have been, though. Time is the thing that knocks upon my skull, my heart, my soul, begging me to adapt, to evolve. I look back on the me of yesterday and it feels as though I've stumbled upon someone else's autobiography. I no longer yearn for someone else's backyard, but, to be fair, I also no longer feel at home in Loudoun County in general. I take pleasure in the (delusional) notion that I'm a citizen of the world, no longer confined to my own limitations and self-prescribed Dickonsonian or "Maria" tendencies. In short, I relate more, now than ever, to Lovettsville's grittiness and transmogrifications than to Waterford's preserved, pellucid perfection, unaltered by the outside changing world. Call me crazy (and I'm quite certain you will), but, to me at least, Lovettsville is "Runnin' Against the Wind," whereas Waterford will always sing out, "Strawberry Fields Forever" within the confines of my own feeble mind. Surely, I digress...

Basically, what I'm trying to say, though not so succinctly or eloquently or even effectively...... LOVETTSVILLE RULES. WATERFORD SUCKS. DEAL WITH IT.

Landoun County

See what I did there? Landoun County? Loudoun County? Dumb. But it's all about the land in Loudoun.

The countryside of hills tumble down from the Blue Ridge Mountains into a valley that plateaus into the encroaching DC area. These hills, populated by deer, coons, squirrels, and musk-oxen (in my head) became at some point 30 or so years ago the prime spot to be and live and commute into DC, to basically have your cake and feast on it too. It's pretty much exactly what my parents did when they moved out from Arlington to ye olde Waterford. I imagine the commute, although long back then as well, was hardly the pavement glacier it is now. Basically everything from Leesburg on out along Route 7 was rural, unfettered goodness. But people started to have the same idea as they got tired of the less than sparkly Arlington landscape (at the time). And the bulldozers started showing up and carving out little American dreams here and there for everyone with a checkbook and a taste for meadows of fireflies and babbling brooks of golden fairies. It was a grand time I'm sure for all involved.

Then after a decade or so, maybe sooner, I'm sure it became apparent to those who had already found their patio, grill, and gardens. With more people taking the land everyone came to look at, you're just looking into Joe J. Commuter's backyard and his jerkwad kids making fun of each other. But it didn't stop. More gold rushers showed up, building this time crummier houses at cheaper prices in less identifiable places (like along highways in between towns cuz there wuz space there), and caring less about what it all looked and felt like.

"No worries," they said, "We'll build a McDonald's. And we'll build a Wal-Mart. And what about an Outlet Mall! And a Target and a Kohl's and a Party City and a PetsMart and a Pizza Hut and a Home Depot and a Lowe's and a Giant and a Shoppers Food Warehouse and a Burlington Coat Factory and a Steinmart(!) and a bigger Mall and a HUGE Car Wash that's real fancy!"

But how to get to all these pods of food and stuff and shit?

"Make Route 7 bigger! Make it go around Leesburg, build a sweeping overpass over it all, put in stoplights and widen the fucking roads so we can go faster and fit more!"

What about the people that can't afford to own cars?

"LOLWUT! Fuck 'em! Everyone can afford a car, this is America! And if they still can't, push them toward the slummier parts of Leesburg (or the slummier parts somewhere out of the county altogether) so they can at least run across highways to get food and supplies and even skip across six lanes to the DMV to wait for hours to apply for a license to use on a car they might afford in twenty years. Careful on your way back across the road boys!"

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Loudoun continued to blossom and shove its bulbous head into the DC area's radar. 57,000 in 1980 turned to 140,000 by the 2000s, and the population as a whole demanded its water, electricity, and ROADS. The great highway to rule them all, the Greenway was built and then jacked up its price; so to avoid the hell of stoplights n' traffic on 7, you gave away your two first born to ride the luxurious Greenway (because of all those forests you get to see just beyond the 8 lane highway's edges). More and more, the landscape would blink and open its eyes to a new parking lot for a Wegman's, a parking lot for a Costco, a parking lot for a Parking lot.

It's not that these places themselves don't offer some good old fashioned shit, or that these houses don't house wonderful people (some of them). It's that the collective effect of this smorgasbord all adds up to no one really giving a crap about what it was all about in the first place. The land.

In the first place, it wasn't just land to have and take a dump on. But now, all that dumped-on, cemented/pavemented land is now is a spitting image of Iowa suburbs, upstate New York suburbs, Texas suburbs, sun-cooked Arizona suburbs, and so on. It's a portal to another homogenized place around the country that no one really cares to remember the name of, to recognize where the place stops or begins, to identify with anyone or anything.

But there are still parts of these places, and of Loudoun, that aren't baking asphalt. There are towns and family-owned shops and actual communities living together collectively. And even for the outliers, there are houses at the end of long drive ways that care to embrace the hillside rather than subdivide it into cardboard fortresses. There are people worth more than their cars, mortgages, and kids' college funds.

You just have to keep driving west. Drive west and driving no longer becomes a chore or an eternity of hating other people through glass, it becomes a joyride, an exploration, a goddamn thrill, jumping around curves over fields through forests and along rivers. And then you get out and you're alive in the world not dead in man-made facelessness.

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Loudoun County was the richest county in the United States in 2008. It dropped since then. Forbes says it's now second place, to its easterly neighbor Falls Church. The 2011 median income of Loudoun? $112,021. Shit son. And what does it have to show for itself?

For some, it's just a lot of a lot of nice cars, jumbo houses, and backyards that if you even peek at, the nervous suburbanites will call the cop who sits two feet away in cul-de-sac #3582 just for that purpose. "No looking at the rich people; they feel threatened." Basically, they have a lot of things. Things they can compare to each other's things, things they can salivate and slob over, things they can jerk off to and go to sleep hugging between their arms and legs. Cool story bro. Things are cool. I like things too. You can get what you want if you want (and have the means). I ain't stopping you. But if that's all there is, then fuck man, fook.

But for others, they have land (and things), or they have a little land that just hasn't been shat on (and things). Again, the land isn't all gone yet. You look around and you're in one of the most beautiful places you'll find. That's the other side of the county (west!); people own acres and acres of land to represent such a steep and stupidly high minimum income. It all comes at a high price, but if there's so much goddamn money in the county, why not enjoy your things and your land too (please no more Party Citys). Hey, you earned it, or at least inherited it.

Where does that leave us? With a lot of people who don't care, some that do but don't really, and others that really do care. And you end up with burgeoning towns-turned-blacktops with highway tentacles (Leesburg), other towns that aren't towns but a collections of houses and shopping centers and parking lots gathered in the vicinity of a sign stuck between manicured bushes and five USA flags (Ashburn), towns that are quickly slipping into an abyss of shit from something that once had character and meaning (Purcellville), towns that really care, have a lot of time, a lot of money, are really proud and in danger of being too pretentious or wrapped up to really keep in touch with reality, yet still hold a place in my heart for being home and old-fashioned and stuck up in keeping it that way (Waterford), and towns that hold themselves nicely to the hills and streams and forests around them (Lovettsville, Taylorstown, Hamilton, Lucketts, Hillsboro, Bluemont, Philomont, Round Hill) and still others that are ungodly, impossibly rich that I don't know much about (Middleburg) and probably others I'm forgetting. Be proud and for once give a damn about living in such a beautiful place you rich, lucky bastards!

Topic o' the Month for May: Loudoun County

Yes, some might say this is an exclusionary topic since a lot of our writers (some of them?) don't live in Loudoun County, but let's be honest, not many post these days anyway and this is a topic just too rich with hilarious and hopefully controversial topics. I hope everyone gets down and dirty this month and doesn't just keep it safe. But then again, it might only just be me and Daniel, and as everyone knows, we are two of the safest people ever. Bring out your dead!


--Edward