For those who have waited with baited breath, I have an update for you.
The Christmas Party is back on! Huzzah! After much stress, tribulation, and all-around drama, the Christmas party is a go. As far as anyone has told me. Because, of course, all information told to the intern is subject to change.
In other news, the dreaded strike is over. It lasted one day. I'll tell you what, the Irish have a lot of gumption, but little endurance. Every day I hear more whispers in the hall about another strike, but who knows if it will happen. I might just show up here to the Embassy one day when everyone is gone. If that happens, I will sit at the Ambassador's desk, prop my feet up, and watch Turner Classic Movies and sip on some Jameson.
To come back down to reality for a bit, quite a lot has happened since I reported last.
Last week I was listening to Garrison Keillor on the radio, and at the end of his monologue he said, "just like the weather, you never know what is going to happen next. Just hold on, something good may be about to happen." The next day I got to work and saw an email in my inbox from a woman named Elizabeth. Elizabeth is a linguist who is a member of the Italian Language group I am also a part of. She said that she had extra tickets available to an ice skating show at the Verizon center- featuring: Scott Hamilton, Kristi Yamaguchi, Nancy Kerrigan, and Dorothy Hamil. That was just the beginning of the excitement for me. Also featured: Singers Olivia Newton-John, some others, and DAVID ARCHULETA.
Now, I'm not proud of it, but this weeks has definitely been evidence to me that I have a thirteen year old girl inside of me. I screamed by guts out for this American Idol alum. Also I saw Twilight this week. (Hangs head in shame.)
The ladies I met up with at the Ice event were truly unique creatures. All middle-aged women from DC with seemingly one thing in common- ice skating. But soon we all found much more in common. We all were learning to speak Italian. We were all obsessed with Viggo Mortenson, and all of us lost it when Scott Hamilton did 3- count um- 3 backflips. I ate sticky cotton candy with my fingers and felt maybe even younger than 13. Maybe I felt 5.
All these youthful feelings fled the moment I returned to my internship, where I have spent most of these past days archiving old information to be sent to Dublin. It was a heavy work load, and I became very dusty and covered with papercuts by the end of it all. Now that the heavy lifting is done, I am working mostly on the computer end of it all, organizing the work that has been done by my colleagues and myself.
Between the very young and very old feelings, a day came that reminded me of my true age: My birthday. On Wednesday November 25th, 2009, I, Katrina Powell, turned twenty___ years old. It was freakin fabulous.
I spent my birthday at little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant at Second and Pennsylvania called La Lomita Dos. The place was brilliant. The walls were mirrors, and the ceiling was dripping with sombreros and confetti. Tacky perfection. My girlfriends and I dressed to the nines celebrated my new year over many, many margaritas (and champagne...and others ;) On the walk home on the abandoned Thanksgiving streets of Washington DC, the ladies and I took pictures in front of the Capitol, and just enjoyed the young night and our young selves. Truly, a birthday to remember.
The next day the same group of people spent Thanksgiving day at my brother's house in Fort Washington, Maryland. When I arrived to their house, they looked as though they had been cooking all night. The food was all laid out, and we had ourselves a wonderful meal with all the fixins. A great success! It was interesting to be in a new city, with new friends, and celebrate a holiday in a very "we are in our 20's" sort of way. I think we managed quite well.
Since I have returned to work I have experience an inordinate amount of disfocus. It is hard for me to look at a computer, and I detest the very feel of the keys beneath my fingertips. So I will make the rest of this short.
The beginning of this week has already made a promise to me that the rest of the week will be very, very busy. Tomorrow I am visiting my Elementary School Classroom on behalf of the Embassy, where I will make a presentation on Irish myths and legends. I am giving them a quiz on the lesson I taught last week, and the student with the highest score gets an Embassy notebook. Don't poke fun at the prize- I literally begged the Ambassador's assitant for one.
Also on the agenda for this week: more work on marketing, a seminar of international climate control, and a reception honoring the World Bank. Let's get this party started!
On a closing note- Recently, I have had to write many papers for my Washington Experience Seminar. Basically, these papers are very structured and thoughtful versions of my blog, so I will be posting those in a series this week. I hope that you will take the time to read them, as I believe them to be hilarious and intuitive.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Whispers and the Rumor Mill
Today has been a day full of shadow and mystery. This morning when I looked out my window, which usually looks out at the Capitol building. But this particular morning, no capitol. My roommate and I freaked out and turned on CNN to see if something catastrophic had happened. Then we realized A) If something had happened, we definitely would have heard it and B) It was an extremely foggy day.
This mystery has just been the beginning of all the questions to be asked today. The second came when a group came in around lunch time. Will they be eating? Will there be food? And, most importantly, will there be leftovers for the intern? I am still awaiting the results of this. They are still in a meeting behind closed doors, and now, I am distracting myself from the hunger by blogging- as the smell of little sandwiches and soup comes wafting up the stairs and through my office door. I can hear the clanging of dishes, and the growl of my stomach. I am ready to eat.
Another mystery involves the event for which I was primarily hired: The Christmas Party. Rumor has it that it isn't happening anymore. Which saddensm me- severly. I am waiting on the word still, and as soon as I find out- I am buying a new dress. 'Tis the season for looking good.
All these mysteries have taught me to ask questions. Is it annoying? yes. Is it nosy? yes. Do I learn something? yes. I'm tired of being the intern who doesn't know a thing, so I've taken the liberty today of walking around and asking people questions today.
This is how I discovered 2 more mysteries. I saw a woman, created name plates. After investigation, I found out there is a dinner coming up. (Which, of course, I am not invited to). So, case opened, and case closed.
The second mystery is a bit more depressing. All the diplomats in the Embassy belong to Unions, and those Unions are almost definitely going to strike starting Tuesday. Which on one hand is great. I won't have to come in to work!
On the other hand, it is very sad. If it lasts more than a couple of days, then Monday could potentially be my last day at the Embassy. I do love this place to pieces. I know it like I know my home, and like it better than my home at 510 C. If they offered me a cot in my office, I would move in right away. So, I do hope that these are not my final hours at the Embassy, as I feel things have just gotten started. So maybe, I will still come into work even if nobody is here.
I have this fantasy that since everyone is gone, the Department of Foreign Affairs calls upon me to do what needs to be done. I will work tirelessly, functioning as a temporary Ambassador- hosting dinners, holding meetings, making phone calls, and toiling endlessly. At only 20 years old, I will be the only non-Irish citizen to be the Ambassador of Ireland to the United States. I could use that on my resume.
In the end, maybe my curiosity and imagination are just me leading to more ignorance and more uncertainty. What will become of Katrina, the Irish-American-Nebraskan intern? Find out on the next edition of "Wanderlust."
This mystery has just been the beginning of all the questions to be asked today. The second came when a group came in around lunch time. Will they be eating? Will there be food? And, most importantly, will there be leftovers for the intern? I am still awaiting the results of this. They are still in a meeting behind closed doors, and now, I am distracting myself from the hunger by blogging- as the smell of little sandwiches and soup comes wafting up the stairs and through my office door. I can hear the clanging of dishes, and the growl of my stomach. I am ready to eat.
Another mystery involves the event for which I was primarily hired: The Christmas Party. Rumor has it that it isn't happening anymore. Which saddensm me- severly. I am waiting on the word still, and as soon as I find out- I am buying a new dress. 'Tis the season for looking good.
All these mysteries have taught me to ask questions. Is it annoying? yes. Is it nosy? yes. Do I learn something? yes. I'm tired of being the intern who doesn't know a thing, so I've taken the liberty today of walking around and asking people questions today.
This is how I discovered 2 more mysteries. I saw a woman, created name plates. After investigation, I found out there is a dinner coming up. (Which, of course, I am not invited to). So, case opened, and case closed.
The second mystery is a bit more depressing. All the diplomats in the Embassy belong to Unions, and those Unions are almost definitely going to strike starting Tuesday. Which on one hand is great. I won't have to come in to work!
On the other hand, it is very sad. If it lasts more than a couple of days, then Monday could potentially be my last day at the Embassy. I do love this place to pieces. I know it like I know my home, and like it better than my home at 510 C. If they offered me a cot in my office, I would move in right away. So, I do hope that these are not my final hours at the Embassy, as I feel things have just gotten started. So maybe, I will still come into work even if nobody is here.
I have this fantasy that since everyone is gone, the Department of Foreign Affairs calls upon me to do what needs to be done. I will work tirelessly, functioning as a temporary Ambassador- hosting dinners, holding meetings, making phone calls, and toiling endlessly. At only 20 years old, I will be the only non-Irish citizen to be the Ambassador of Ireland to the United States. I could use that on my resume.
In the end, maybe my curiosity and imagination are just me leading to more ignorance and more uncertainty. What will become of Katrina, the Irish-American-Nebraskan intern? Find out on the next edition of "Wanderlust."
Sunday, November 15, 2009
He Who Hugs Trees
Today is a beautiful day in Washington D.C., a warm and sunny 73 degrees, with enough of a breeze to remind you that it may be the last of its kind for a long time. The leaves on the trees are falling, some leaves changing colors to match the brick tone of the Capitol Hill row home to which they belong. The whole scene feels like a memory, and throughout the days of rain, occassionally, Autumn brings you a gift like today.
It is on a day like today that you understand the sentiments of a tree-hugger. You see, trees have a certain way of celebrating life in a way which humans strive their whole lives to understand. In the fall, the tree begins to shut off its life force to the leaves, causing them to turn murads of colors before dropping off and dying, to decay as part of the soil.
In this way, trees have a glorious understanding of the seasons. Before dying, they illuminate with color, bringing their best show for the last days, the last days before the long winter cold. If only we could learn to do so. If only we could learn that when times are about to get cold, we shouldn't put out as little energy as required, but rather, we should put our full force and full beauty behind into the days ahead. Because even though there may be a period that we have no leaves, no sun, and no warmth, we have the guarantee of spring.
It is on a day like today that you understand the sentiments of a tree-hugger. You see, trees have a certain way of celebrating life in a way which humans strive their whole lives to understand. In the fall, the tree begins to shut off its life force to the leaves, causing them to turn murads of colors before dropping off and dying, to decay as part of the soil.
In this way, trees have a glorious understanding of the seasons. Before dying, they illuminate with color, bringing their best show for the last days, the last days before the long winter cold. If only we could learn to do so. If only we could learn that when times are about to get cold, we shouldn't put out as little energy as required, but rather, we should put our full force and full beauty behind into the days ahead. Because even though there may be a period that we have no leaves, no sun, and no warmth, we have the guarantee of spring.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
My Love Affair
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.
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, 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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)