English has always had its ways of keeping a leash on me.
It all began when I was seven years old, and my grandmother ordered a set of VHS tapes from A&E television. There were 7 VHS tapes. This set was Pride and Prejudice. It was always tradition that my grandmother would watch movies with me as we drank tea, but this day lasted all night. After being exposed to my first seven hours of Austen, I was never the same.
Throughout high school, my interest in reading always assisted me in English classes, and by the time I was a junior, I was taking English courses for college credit. But to me, it was nothing special. It came as easily to me as anything else, so I thought nothing of it.
I entered college strapped to a hot-air baloon filled with high hopes. I wanted to do something relevant, something practical. For god knows what reason, I decided that physical therapy was probably the best route for me to go. I was always a dancer, and I thought that this might be a good way to keep involved in that. After sessions with people who were telling me about their hospital work, and dissecting a human cadaver in college, I decided that probably wasnt the best route to go.
So I entered University as a Theatre and Communications major. The first semester was one, continuous rehearsal. And one communications class. I spent more time in the theatre building that I did eating, sleeping, bathing, and using the restroom combined. As I fell into bed face first one night it occured to me- I really missed studying. I missed reading. I missed writing. I missed my love affair with Darcy.
It was then I declared my English major. English, like a good man, had always pursued me. Always treated me well, and rewarded me for working. Since the day I declared, I have enjoyed college. I know now the feeling of accomplishment. I know now what it feels like to be good at something. And let me tell you- it feels good.
Last year I had a class on literature of other spiritualities. In the class, students had to write a critical essay on the novel, and post it for the rest of the class to read. Using that pool of papers at research, we would write a comparative essay at the end of two weeks. The other students were reference points. At the end of the semester, an award was given to the student who was most quoted, or most referenced, in the class. It was a class full of all different majors, and I won that award. I smiled and nodded at the professor, but in my head, I was thinking "Wow. This is the proudest moment of my life." I know it was just a token, but to me, it was a victory. It was all the math tests I've failed, all the shows I was never cast in, all the sports I never played. This- this is what it feels like. This is the taste of passion.
From that day I joined the English Honor Society Sigma Tau Delta, and recently I was elected President. Now, I'm not one to "toot my own horn" but I am proud to say now, that English loves me, and I love it for loving me.
But the question is often asked- what does one do with an English major? I only recently discovered my personal answer to that question.
Last semester, I studied in Denmark (the principle on which this blog was founded). During the first two weeks or so, the English of the International students was not at its prime. Nevertheless, Erasmus bonds people together without words spoken. One night I was invited to dinner at my friend Valerio's house. While I was there, Valerio kept holding up objects. A pot. "What's this?" he'd say. "pot. pan. plate. knife" Finally I grabbed some sticky notes and a sharpie, and had the whole apartment labeled. I even drew a poster on the wall of a person, and labeled every body part. I realized then that I had something valuable to him, and it made me laugh with delight to share it. That is when I decided to teach English as a second language.
For me, English is a culmination of everything I have ever loved or pursued. In dance, I loved teaching the younger girls. In theatre, I loved the challenge of presentation. In reading, I loved the profound concentration. All these things combined have created the pinnacle romance of my life- my love affair with the English Language.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Back to Business
Reading through my last blog, I only slightly remember writing it. I apologize for it. It is completely miserable and I will probably delete it.
Meanwhile, I need to get cracking on writing about my actual internship!
Today, upon returning to the office, I found myself thrown into another guest list for yet another reception. Luckily, this time my name was not the RSVP contact, which saves me a lot of time. This is a one-day week for me, and I couldn't be happier about that fact.
So let me allow you to give a mid-term evaluation of myself in this process of my internship. For academic purposes (not narcissim) I will answer a series of questions about my experience thus far.
1. What do your duties include?
My duties this semester have included a hodge-podge of tasks. Mostly, I work as the cultural affairs intern. What this means is that I basically plan parties and attend them. From start to finish, it looks like this. I find out that there is an artist/author/important person coming to the Embassy. I spend some time researching this individual, and thinking about who would most likely be invited to hear this particular person speak. I then compile a list of people I think are appropriate, and my boss checks it and adds her own contacts. I set up and Excel sheet with the guests, and send out personalized invitations to them. From there, I follow the RSVP's. Often the guest 'recruiting process' goes on until the day of the event.
From there, I research more the event and honoree, often creating documents and biographies for the Ambassador to read. I sort of create "cheat sheets" of information, condensing information the best way I can. Often times I am even asked to create "talking points" for the Ambassador.
By the time the event has arrived, I know the occupation and title of each guest, and recognize their names as I greet them at the door. At the event, I am given tasks by the Ambassador's wife or my boss. I try to accomodate this the best I know how.
That is the main part of my job. The other part involves field trips. I am sort of the "about town" girl for the Embassy. If someone needs to attend a conference or luncheon, they send me. From there I take notes and write reports on the event. These always include food, and always, I am the youngest in attendence. Usually I get a nametag that says something to the effect of "Diplomat" which always gives me a little undeserved ego boost.
2. What has been the most challenging part of the internship to date?
The most challenging part of my job is dealing with people under stress. I have learned that when people feel pressure, they tend not to speak or think clearly, and it is then that I become not only an intern, but and interpretor. Between stuttering and yelling, I hear commands given to me that at times make no sense. But I just do what I think I should. I try to follow my instincts on what needs to be done, because quite frankly, no one around me is making sense.
This has taught me that there is a fine line between doing what you are asked, and overstepping your bounds. People have a very specific expectation for your work, and often do not know how to react if it is different than what they had imagined. So, it is a challenge to get enough information out of a boss to achieve what they want, while not being annoying or overbearing.
3. What is the best part of my job?
The best part is the social events. I truly enjoy the people that are invited to these events, and they are always so grateful to be a part of it. When all the guests have arrived, and no one is staring me down, its great to relax and learn all sorts of things from the people that are invited. Also, I have my own office, which is pretty chill.
4. What skills that I have learned here can help me potentially in the future?
I have learned a lot about how things work in an office (especially particular to this embassy). The things I have learned I could only have learned through this long time here- just the general ettiquete of the office- how emails are sent, a whole office working off a shared drive, faxing, copying, etc.
Also I have learned how to balance my life when working a 9-5 job. Often times, it can feel overwhelming, and as though I live at work. I close my eyes at night, and wake up in the office. I have learned how to balance my time, and how to break apart my schedule. I have learned the importance of a social life. It is absolutely nessecary to find time with your friends and relax. I've also learned that if you wish to be productive, home is not the best place to do it. When I am home, time slips by so quickly you barely feel it pass. So in order to make the most of my time, I make sure to balance my schedule so that I have personal time to look forward to, social time to look forward to, and productive times as well.
I've learned that in a world where technology is part of my daily life, it is also important to me to get out and have fresh air, and trees. I think I would die without being in a wide open space every once in a while. (Of course, this pertains more to city life).
5. Do you think you would ever want a career in the Foreign Service?#
After researching the careers of Foreign Service Officers in the US State Department, I can't say that I would want that sort of lifestyle- right now. It seems an awful lot like getting married to the government to me, and truth be told, at 20, I'm not crazy about signing my life over to any one thing right now. However, this may change in a couple of years. I guess I'll just wait and see.
Overall, I am grateful for this experience, but I can't help but feeling a little trapped in an office 9-5. I would much prefer something where I didnt have to report to the same place every day for the same hours. I would prefer something a bit more exciting and diverse, where I could interact with people who are glad to see me. For this reason, I would love to teach English abroad. I'm very good at English (fluent, even) and I've always got such a joy out of teaching. I love having something of value to others, and sharing it with them. It just makes me feel valuable and relevant. Validated, I'd say.
So there is a mid-term evaluation of my internship. Not that you care. And not that you read it. hm.
Meanwhile, I need to get cracking on writing about my actual internship!
Today, upon returning to the office, I found myself thrown into another guest list for yet another reception. Luckily, this time my name was not the RSVP contact, which saves me a lot of time. This is a one-day week for me, and I couldn't be happier about that fact.
So let me allow you to give a mid-term evaluation of myself in this process of my internship. For academic purposes (not narcissim) I will answer a series of questions about my experience thus far.
1. What do your duties include?
My duties this semester have included a hodge-podge of tasks. Mostly, I work as the cultural affairs intern. What this means is that I basically plan parties and attend them. From start to finish, it looks like this. I find out that there is an artist/author/important person coming to the Embassy. I spend some time researching this individual, and thinking about who would most likely be invited to hear this particular person speak. I then compile a list of people I think are appropriate, and my boss checks it and adds her own contacts. I set up and Excel sheet with the guests, and send out personalized invitations to them. From there, I follow the RSVP's. Often the guest 'recruiting process' goes on until the day of the event.
From there, I research more the event and honoree, often creating documents and biographies for the Ambassador to read. I sort of create "cheat sheets" of information, condensing information the best way I can. Often times I am even asked to create "talking points" for the Ambassador.
By the time the event has arrived, I know the occupation and title of each guest, and recognize their names as I greet them at the door. At the event, I am given tasks by the Ambassador's wife or my boss. I try to accomodate this the best I know how.
That is the main part of my job. The other part involves field trips. I am sort of the "about town" girl for the Embassy. If someone needs to attend a conference or luncheon, they send me. From there I take notes and write reports on the event. These always include food, and always, I am the youngest in attendence. Usually I get a nametag that says something to the effect of "Diplomat" which always gives me a little undeserved ego boost.
2. What has been the most challenging part of the internship to date?
The most challenging part of my job is dealing with people under stress. I have learned that when people feel pressure, they tend not to speak or think clearly, and it is then that I become not only an intern, but and interpretor. Between stuttering and yelling, I hear commands given to me that at times make no sense. But I just do what I think I should. I try to follow my instincts on what needs to be done, because quite frankly, no one around me is making sense.
This has taught me that there is a fine line between doing what you are asked, and overstepping your bounds. People have a very specific expectation for your work, and often do not know how to react if it is different than what they had imagined. So, it is a challenge to get enough information out of a boss to achieve what they want, while not being annoying or overbearing.
3. What is the best part of my job?
The best part is the social events. I truly enjoy the people that are invited to these events, and they are always so grateful to be a part of it. When all the guests have arrived, and no one is staring me down, its great to relax and learn all sorts of things from the people that are invited. Also, I have my own office, which is pretty chill.
4. What skills that I have learned here can help me potentially in the future?
I have learned a lot about how things work in an office (especially particular to this embassy). The things I have learned I could only have learned through this long time here- just the general ettiquete of the office- how emails are sent, a whole office working off a shared drive, faxing, copying, etc.
Also I have learned how to balance my life when working a 9-5 job. Often times, it can feel overwhelming, and as though I live at work. I close my eyes at night, and wake up in the office. I have learned how to balance my time, and how to break apart my schedule. I have learned the importance of a social life. It is absolutely nessecary to find time with your friends and relax. I've also learned that if you wish to be productive, home is not the best place to do it. When I am home, time slips by so quickly you barely feel it pass. So in order to make the most of my time, I make sure to balance my schedule so that I have personal time to look forward to, social time to look forward to, and productive times as well.
I've learned that in a world where technology is part of my daily life, it is also important to me to get out and have fresh air, and trees. I think I would die without being in a wide open space every once in a while. (Of course, this pertains more to city life).
5. Do you think you would ever want a career in the Foreign Service?#
After researching the careers of Foreign Service Officers in the US State Department, I can't say that I would want that sort of lifestyle- right now. It seems an awful lot like getting married to the government to me, and truth be told, at 20, I'm not crazy about signing my life over to any one thing right now. However, this may change in a couple of years. I guess I'll just wait and see.
Overall, I am grateful for this experience, but I can't help but feeling a little trapped in an office 9-5. I would much prefer something where I didnt have to report to the same place every day for the same hours. I would prefer something a bit more exciting and diverse, where I could interact with people who are glad to see me. For this reason, I would love to teach English abroad. I'm very good at English (fluent, even) and I've always got such a joy out of teaching. I love having something of value to others, and sharing it with them. It just makes me feel valuable and relevant. Validated, I'd say.
So there is a mid-term evaluation of my internship. Not that you care. And not that you read it. hm.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Smelly
I write this now, facing a broken TV, with a warm water bottle on my head. I have been sick now since Friday. It is Tuesday, and I can't believe how much time I've spent in this stinky apartment.
I haven't ate anything really, just like some bread and a lot of tea. I have a sinus infection, which I just started antibiotics for. So, soon this will all be a memory.
Also, the fridge smells awful. And 2 of my roommates claim to not smell it at all. Meanwhile, I have not ate any of my food lately, because I believe it has absorbed the smell. Even the eggs. This smell has penetrated EGG SHELLS. It is scarring. Tonight, I will make them throw out their disgusting old food. I simply cannot take this madness anymore. Simple as that. I fear a rat has died in the freezer, for the foul stench is not that of food.
This is what has been happening in my life.
Tomorrow I hope to return to work, after a long weekend of not leaving the house. The infection comes at a much needed time, however, as I was about to sink anyways under all the pressure of this internship, my part-time job, and just life's affairs. I feel like life tackled me down right when I needed it to. Not that this sickness is enjoyable. It is not. I want to get out so badly, to just go to the library. I'm stir crazy, and this smell is driving me out of my house, and killing my appetite.
I'm trying to think of positive things to report. Let's see. Thanksgiving is almost here! I have less than one month until I turn 21! Also, next Monday I will be attending a Tea for Diplomats involved in Cultural Education for Elementary School kids. Next week there are also 2 receptions at the Embassy. One for John Girrard, an Irish artist, and one for author Joseph O'Neill. Should be a grand time.
Meanwhile, I am nursing myself back to health, and dealing with being at home, sans television. Hope this blog is finding you better than it is leaving me.
I haven't ate anything really, just like some bread and a lot of tea. I have a sinus infection, which I just started antibiotics for. So, soon this will all be a memory.
Also, the fridge smells awful. And 2 of my roommates claim to not smell it at all. Meanwhile, I have not ate any of my food lately, because I believe it has absorbed the smell. Even the eggs. This smell has penetrated EGG SHELLS. It is scarring. Tonight, I will make them throw out their disgusting old food. I simply cannot take this madness anymore. Simple as that. I fear a rat has died in the freezer, for the foul stench is not that of food.
This is what has been happening in my life.
Tomorrow I hope to return to work, after a long weekend of not leaving the house. The infection comes at a much needed time, however, as I was about to sink anyways under all the pressure of this internship, my part-time job, and just life's affairs. I feel like life tackled me down right when I needed it to. Not that this sickness is enjoyable. It is not. I want to get out so badly, to just go to the library. I'm stir crazy, and this smell is driving me out of my house, and killing my appetite.
I'm trying to think of positive things to report. Let's see. Thanksgiving is almost here! I have less than one month until I turn 21! Also, next Monday I will be attending a Tea for Diplomats involved in Cultural Education for Elementary School kids. Next week there are also 2 receptions at the Embassy. One for John Girrard, an Irish artist, and one for author Joseph O'Neill. Should be a grand time.
Meanwhile, I am nursing myself back to health, and dealing with being at home, sans television. Hope this blog is finding you better than it is leaving me.
Monday, October 19, 2009
About a year and a half ago, I faced the day where I had to say goodbye to my freshman year of college. I didn't know that day that I would have to say goodbye to some other things in my life too.
The day I moved out of my freshman dorm, I called my boyfriend to help me move the already packed boxes into my car. When he arrived, his eyes were the size of cantalopes and his hands were shaking. I knew then that he had come over not to help me move my boxes, but to move me- out of his life. Looking back now, it was all a bit symbolic. Moving out, moving on.
So, with my heart in pieces on the ground, and my girlfriends surrounding me, I tried to muster the courage to drive back home to Omaha from Lincoln. As I stood outside my door, my friend Kyle Thomas stopped me from lifting what I was lifting. He took all my heavy load, and brought everything to my car. Then it was time for me to go to the car, he lifted me up and brought me there too.
I don't know if he knows how much this meant to me. Or how dear I will always hold that memory. I think some people have it in them to know just what to do, right when it is needed. At that moment, Kyle Thomas was a hero.
And then I think of Max Funkey, scraping the ice off my car at 3 am, because he knew I had to drive in the morning. It was just before Christmas, and again, I was headed home. And without even expecting a thank-you, Max saw me in the parking lot, came out, and grabbed the ice scraper from my hand and started hacking away at the inches of Nebraska ice covered my windshield. Max, he was a hero.
The most recent in my life was sn Italian guy named Andrea, and a Spanish guy named David. Both friends of mine from Denmark. They lived right next to the trainstation, so I stayed at their apartment the night before I left. I was so sad to be leaving. That night, David and Andrea stayed up with me, all night long, battling off the sleep and boughts of sadness. Those last few hours in Aalborg were so surreal. I was able to ward off the sadness, up until the moment I zipped up my bags. Right as the wave of despair hit me, those guys were there. They carried my bags and never stopped smiling. We waited there at the bus stop until the bus came, tears pouring down my face, and they never blinked once. They never made me feel stupid for being so sad. They just hugged me. And waved goodbye. And those are the last faces I saw in Aalborg. The last faces from there I have seen to this day.
And this is the point of the hero- they are with you there, right at the end. While they may not have been the leading men the whole story, at the end, they know how to step in.
I heard a story recently that made all this rush back.
A good friend of mine went through a horrible, horrible situation. Not to invade her privacy, but she was stuck in a situation where she had but one person take care of her. And that one person let her down, gravely.
But then there was a hero. Someone she and I have known since high school. My friend called this guy after maybe years of not speaking. He was located in the same state as her, and was her only hope to get out of this sticky situation. Without question, he came and picked her up. No questions. Just delivery.
What makes a friend a hero? They recognize a call to action. They can recognize hurt. They protect vulnerability. They understand sadness, and treasure privacy. At moments where life has such a propensity to pain, you can consider yourself blessed indeed to find yourself in the company of a hero.
Their sensitivity to the needs of their friends in inspiring, and I hope that, in my years, I can find a way to return all the generosity that has been lavished on me.
The day I moved out of my freshman dorm, I called my boyfriend to help me move the already packed boxes into my car. When he arrived, his eyes were the size of cantalopes and his hands were shaking. I knew then that he had come over not to help me move my boxes, but to move me- out of his life. Looking back now, it was all a bit symbolic. Moving out, moving on.
So, with my heart in pieces on the ground, and my girlfriends surrounding me, I tried to muster the courage to drive back home to Omaha from Lincoln. As I stood outside my door, my friend Kyle Thomas stopped me from lifting what I was lifting. He took all my heavy load, and brought everything to my car. Then it was time for me to go to the car, he lifted me up and brought me there too.
I don't know if he knows how much this meant to me. Or how dear I will always hold that memory. I think some people have it in them to know just what to do, right when it is needed. At that moment, Kyle Thomas was a hero.
And then I think of Max Funkey, scraping the ice off my car at 3 am, because he knew I had to drive in the morning. It was just before Christmas, and again, I was headed home. And without even expecting a thank-you, Max saw me in the parking lot, came out, and grabbed the ice scraper from my hand and started hacking away at the inches of Nebraska ice covered my windshield. Max, he was a hero.
The most recent in my life was sn Italian guy named Andrea, and a Spanish guy named David. Both friends of mine from Denmark. They lived right next to the trainstation, so I stayed at their apartment the night before I left. I was so sad to be leaving. That night, David and Andrea stayed up with me, all night long, battling off the sleep and boughts of sadness. Those last few hours in Aalborg were so surreal. I was able to ward off the sadness, up until the moment I zipped up my bags. Right as the wave of despair hit me, those guys were there. They carried my bags and never stopped smiling. We waited there at the bus stop until the bus came, tears pouring down my face, and they never blinked once. They never made me feel stupid for being so sad. They just hugged me. And waved goodbye. And those are the last faces I saw in Aalborg. The last faces from there I have seen to this day.
And this is the point of the hero- they are with you there, right at the end. While they may not have been the leading men the whole story, at the end, they know how to step in.
I heard a story recently that made all this rush back.
A good friend of mine went through a horrible, horrible situation. Not to invade her privacy, but she was stuck in a situation where she had but one person take care of her. And that one person let her down, gravely.
But then there was a hero. Someone she and I have known since high school. My friend called this guy after maybe years of not speaking. He was located in the same state as her, and was her only hope to get out of this sticky situation. Without question, he came and picked her up. No questions. Just delivery.
What makes a friend a hero? They recognize a call to action. They can recognize hurt. They protect vulnerability. They understand sadness, and treasure privacy. At moments where life has such a propensity to pain, you can consider yourself blessed indeed to find yourself in the company of a hero.
Their sensitivity to the needs of their friends in inspiring, and I hope that, in my years, I can find a way to return all the generosity that has been lavished on me.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Seemingly Insignificant Memorable Moments
For days I have been shivering at the Embassy. I have kept my coat on all day.
Today, I went to the bathroom, and when I returned, a man appeared out of my office dressed in blue jeans. Suddenly I felt the warmth of the heat coming from the dusty register under my window. At last! The heat is turned on!
Every spare moment I get, I just go and stand beside it. And then I realize, I am like my cat. Every year when the heat turns on, she sits on top of the vent on the floor. She hears the heat turning on, and she goes and sits there. Hilarious.
Anyways, today is much more important than the heat turning on! This morning I attended a workshop for the "Embassy Adoption Program" which is a program between the Embassies of DC, and DC Public Schools. The Embassies go into 6th grade classrooms to teach about the culture through music, dancing, food, and language.
I am particuarly excited about this event because I think it will give me good experience for my future career. Since I am interested in International Education, I think this will be great for my resume, not to mention a lot of fun.
So at the meeting, all the diplomats had to go around and introduce themselves (gag). Since I had nothing to say except "I'm an intern," I told the group how when I was in 5th grade, I did a school project on Denmark, and I went on to study there in college. "What you are exposed to when you are a child has a great impact on what your interests will be as an adult" I said. "So, I am excited to be a part of this program." Which is true! But I have to shudder a bit to think of what a Washingtonian I am becoming. Talking about myself, all the time.
Speaking of which, I miss Denmark, and I think I need to shutup about it. I think people are getting annoyed. One of the Danish interns who kind of blew me off at EuroNight was there, and he kind of blew me off again. Nice.
But he doesn't matter at all. For tonight, I am meeting the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Ireland. He's basically Irelands Secretary of State. Basically, Michael Martin is to Ireland what Hillary Clinton is to America. I am very excited about this. I am going to go change into my suit soon, to go over to the residence of the Ambassador, and meet an important person. Life feels....cool.
But I am dreading the walk in the 40 degree weather, where it is pouring rain. So for now, I am going to go warm myself by the heater, and dream of being in my own bed at home, curled up with a cup of tea, and maybe my cat.
Today, I went to the bathroom, and when I returned, a man appeared out of my office dressed in blue jeans. Suddenly I felt the warmth of the heat coming from the dusty register under my window. At last! The heat is turned on!
Every spare moment I get, I just go and stand beside it. And then I realize, I am like my cat. Every year when the heat turns on, she sits on top of the vent on the floor. She hears the heat turning on, and she goes and sits there. Hilarious.
Anyways, today is much more important than the heat turning on! This morning I attended a workshop for the "Embassy Adoption Program" which is a program between the Embassies of DC, and DC Public Schools. The Embassies go into 6th grade classrooms to teach about the culture through music, dancing, food, and language.
I am particuarly excited about this event because I think it will give me good experience for my future career. Since I am interested in International Education, I think this will be great for my resume, not to mention a lot of fun.
So at the meeting, all the diplomats had to go around and introduce themselves (gag). Since I had nothing to say except "I'm an intern," I told the group how when I was in 5th grade, I did a school project on Denmark, and I went on to study there in college. "What you are exposed to when you are a child has a great impact on what your interests will be as an adult" I said. "So, I am excited to be a part of this program." Which is true! But I have to shudder a bit to think of what a Washingtonian I am becoming. Talking about myself, all the time.
Speaking of which, I miss Denmark, and I think I need to shutup about it. I think people are getting annoyed. One of the Danish interns who kind of blew me off at EuroNight was there, and he kind of blew me off again. Nice.
But he doesn't matter at all. For tonight, I am meeting the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Ireland. He's basically Irelands Secretary of State. Basically, Michael Martin is to Ireland what Hillary Clinton is to America. I am very excited about this. I am going to go change into my suit soon, to go over to the residence of the Ambassador, and meet an important person. Life feels....cool.
But I am dreading the walk in the 40 degree weather, where it is pouring rain. So for now, I am going to go warm myself by the heater, and dream of being in my own bed at home, curled up with a cup of tea, and maybe my cat.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Hunger is a Good Sauce
When you ask my parents how they met, they will always tell you the same story. Mom was living in an apartment alone. She met my dad, and when he came over to her apartment, the only food she had in the house was a jar of jam and some bread.
Today I looked in the fridge, and saw I had only 2 pieces of bread wrapped in tinfoil, and a jar of boysenberry jam.
So my dad took her to the grocery store, where he bought her a lot of groceries. He spent so much that to this day I think my mom just might still be embarrassed at the cost.
I think that I get it now- because I understand now why my mom only had jam. She probably was capable of grocery shopping, and probably had a little bit of money that she could have gone out and got something for herself. But I think that her time was too precious. I think that she worked all day, and when she came home, she wouldnt want to cook a whole meal just for herself, when she knew that she would enjoy bread and jam just as much.
When my father came along, he demonstrated a sort of luxury. His compassion and concern in this story is touching. While my mom didn't really care about what she had to eat, it was of great concern to my dad. He thought she deserved more than my mom thought she deserved for herself.
Now, I know I cannot do this story justice. And, Mom, if you are reading this right now, maybe you think I got it all wrong. But the point is, my mom demonstrated to me what it means to be content with what you have. My father demonstrated to me that a good man will make efforts to make your life comfortable, even if you don't think you need it.
Today I looked in the fridge, and saw I had only 2 pieces of bread wrapped in tinfoil, and a jar of boysenberry jam.
So my dad took her to the grocery store, where he bought her a lot of groceries. He spent so much that to this day I think my mom just might still be embarrassed at the cost.
I think that I get it now- because I understand now why my mom only had jam. She probably was capable of grocery shopping, and probably had a little bit of money that she could have gone out and got something for herself. But I think that her time was too precious. I think that she worked all day, and when she came home, she wouldnt want to cook a whole meal just for herself, when she knew that she would enjoy bread and jam just as much.
When my father came along, he demonstrated a sort of luxury. His compassion and concern in this story is touching. While my mom didn't really care about what she had to eat, it was of great concern to my dad. He thought she deserved more than my mom thought she deserved for herself.
Now, I know I cannot do this story justice. And, Mom, if you are reading this right now, maybe you think I got it all wrong. But the point is, my mom demonstrated to me what it means to be content with what you have. My father demonstrated to me that a good man will make efforts to make your life comfortable, even if you don't think you need it.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
When I grow up I want to be in the UN
Today I am sitting at home. My laundry is lined up along the windows, wet, on hangers. Outside it is raining, but my windows are still open, drying the clothes. Kelsey Knutson, my roommate, and I made muffins, and now I am relaxing. It is a wonderful day.
Yesterday I attended a conference in North Bethesda, where I was given a name tag that read my name, and below, a blue ribbon with gold ribbon that read "Diplomat." I won't even lie to you: I wore it all the way home. I also got some freebies: A stuffed camel, an inflatable globe, and an invite to a party. I visited Slovenia's booth, where I was met by two young Slovenian interns, one with a very cool lip ring.
I knew instantly that I must be friends with them. I must admit, however, that my confidence was shaken after the run-in with the Danish interns last week at Euro night. But Jan and Marko proved very friendly, and invited me to a party that night at the Slovenian Embassy.
Who am I to say no to an Embassy party? So I went with my friend Olivia, dressed to the nines, with an Irish flag pin on my lapel. They were honoring a 91 year old Italian/Slovenian artist, whose name I cannot recall. The food and drink was excellent, and it was there that I met the other EURO INTERNS. They came from Finland, Sweden, and Slovenia. At this point I decided that we should form a "Lunch Club." Apparently, there was already a facebook group formed. I was told that they Danish are consistently flaky. Good to know it wasn't just me.
During the night, here is what I learned about Slovenia:
It is NOT Slovakia.
There are 2.5 Million people.
They speak Slovenian.
People like to ski there, but they usually go to neighboring Italy to do so.
The interns live in the basement of the Embassy. (Color me jealous)
After the event, all the "EUROTERNS" took a walk to go the home of the Swedish Ambassador's chef. During the walk, they bragged about knowing every word to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song. And that they did. Unfortunately, later, my toes had an awful encounter with the sidewalk, and they started to bleed, so I had to go home early. Unfortunate. But it was great while it lasted, and I hope to see all those people again for "Lunch Club" soon.
Tonight appears to be equally promising. I met a young person at the Italian Embassy last week, and tonight I am going to grab some pizza with them, and meet some more of their George Washington University friends. Bella Notte!
Yesterday I attended a conference in North Bethesda, where I was given a name tag that read my name, and below, a blue ribbon with gold ribbon that read "Diplomat." I won't even lie to you: I wore it all the way home. I also got some freebies: A stuffed camel, an inflatable globe, and an invite to a party. I visited Slovenia's booth, where I was met by two young Slovenian interns, one with a very cool lip ring.
I knew instantly that I must be friends with them. I must admit, however, that my confidence was shaken after the run-in with the Danish interns last week at Euro night. But Jan and Marko proved very friendly, and invited me to a party that night at the Slovenian Embassy.
Who am I to say no to an Embassy party? So I went with my friend Olivia, dressed to the nines, with an Irish flag pin on my lapel. They were honoring a 91 year old Italian/Slovenian artist, whose name I cannot recall. The food and drink was excellent, and it was there that I met the other EURO INTERNS. They came from Finland, Sweden, and Slovenia. At this point I decided that we should form a "Lunch Club." Apparently, there was already a facebook group formed. I was told that they Danish are consistently flaky. Good to know it wasn't just me.
During the night, here is what I learned about Slovenia:
It is NOT Slovakia.
There are 2.5 Million people.
They speak Slovenian.
People like to ski there, but they usually go to neighboring Italy to do so.
The interns live in the basement of the Embassy. (Color me jealous)
After the event, all the "EUROTERNS" took a walk to go the home of the Swedish Ambassador's chef. During the walk, they bragged about knowing every word to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song. And that they did. Unfortunately, later, my toes had an awful encounter with the sidewalk, and they started to bleed, so I had to go home early. Unfortunate. But it was great while it lasted, and I hope to see all those people again for "Lunch Club" soon.
Tonight appears to be equally promising. I met a young person at the Italian Embassy last week, and tonight I am going to grab some pizza with them, and meet some more of their George Washington University friends. Bella Notte!
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