March of the Peacocks

Here I am, writing to you from small prison cell, I mean dorm, in Centennial Hell, I mean Hall. I am officially a college student again.

My major challenge while I am here is not my academics, or managing a busy schedule. It is trying to not complain. I am attempting at a cynic- free lifestyle. I live in a first year dorm as the RA, floating in between classes and the library.

But amidst all my begrudging, I feel a real sense of hope. As cheesy as it is, I found a little bit of strength for a new-found outlook through my long time hero, Conan O'Brien.

My fellow Irish-American Conan has been through an interesting ordeal in the past couple of months. He was living his dream, and then all of it came to a sudden stop. I'm sure I can relate to how he must be feeling on some level. Having come back from the most amazing year of my life, I feel strangely out of place back here at square one. It all ended too suddenly, and I find myself shaking my head and trying to believe that all those amazing things happened, and that I met so many people who will hold a place in my heart forever.

But Conan's goodbye speech is what made me take a second look at the road that lies before me here at University. Conan said this:

"I have had more good fortune than anybody I know. and if our next gig is doing a show in a 7-11 parking lot, we will find a way to make it fun. we really will. i have no problems. (I don't want to do it in a 7-11 parking lot)"

"I ask one thing: Please do not by cynical...it doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they would get. but if you work really hard, and you are kind, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you, amazing things will happen"

From all of this, I gather a lot of strength. It comes from a humbled part of my heart that I say that I have had more good fortune that anybody I know. It's not that I think that I am better than those I know, it is that I recognize the fact that I have been divinely favored and blessed by God. I can't speak highly enough of the year I have had. I could speak for hours about how my life has been forever changed. But I also know that there is more to come, and admittedly this is something I have to reaffirm to myself everyday. I can find a way to make this fun. I can work harder and be more kind than anyone I know. In this way, I will forge on, constantly keeping my eye on the horizon for wonderful things to happen.



PS- I think I look like Conan's wife. Google that stuff. And her last name is Powell. Wicked cool, eh?

Resiliance

As of today, I have been home for exactly three weeks. Since being home I have been itching, stirring, and rolling in my sleep. I feel like a fly on a camel's back. I am officially bored.

Adding to my frustration is the fact that I have been snowed in many times since I have been home. Today has been one of those days.

Stir-crazy, I went out to get the mail. The snow was still falling hard, and many neighbors were out with snow blowers and shovels. And it was so strange. Above the scrape of shovels and roar of the blowers, I heard laughter. And chatting. People were greeting each other and digging out.

That's when I realized something about Nebraska. People who live here are among the most resilient I have ever met. I don't know how, but somehow the weather can't get them down. When they are faced with obstacles, they fall down and get up laughing.

I witnessed a similar thing last week as well. Once, I drove my car into a snow bank down the street from my house. I was unable to drive, and blocking the road. Another driver silently got out of his car, grabbed a shovel, and helped me scoop the white fluff and harsh ice from around my confined tires. There were exchanges between us. It was an unspoken camaraderie.

To shamelessly quote Primo Levi again:"The sea's only gifts are harsh blows, and, occasionally, the chance to feel strong."

The same is true for Nebraska. You can't expect more from this prairie land than harsh blows of snow, and the chance to feel capable of shoveling it out of the way.

In the days ahead, I will be faced with a unique challenge: Living the day to day. Working hard, and just waiting until I can wander again. Waiting to escape Nebraska. But maybe in the meantime I will be given a chance to feel strong.

Pomegranates, Oysters, or Just Plain Cheese

The feeling I will savor the most from my twenties is the feeling that I have just cracked the world open like a pomegranate.

Little by little, I have found myself totally unbridled by, well, anything. I have learned that the world is mine to open up, and enjoy the fruits inside. Now, forgive the shamelessly cheesy metaphor, and allow me to explain.

Two Tuesday mornings ago I found myself in a whirlwind of activity. It was so busy that the memories of the day before- sharing a farewell cake with colleagues and packing up my apartment- seemed far removed. This particular Tuesday morning started early for me at 6 AM. I hurriedly dressed and got to work ten minutes before eight. I was going to tour the White House.

My tour mates arrived, and we left our bags at the Embassy (as no bags of any sort are allowed on the tour). We metro'd to the Residence of the President, and as we arrived at the gate and hear the guard ask for identification, it dawned on me. I had no ID. I may as well have been naked.

Causing my two group mates to suffer a minor heart attack, one handed me two crumpled five dollar bills and ran to the street to hail me a taxi. He told me to go back, get my ID, and get right back into the same cab. A true life saver, he was. I hoped in the cab and gave him instructions to the Embassy. I was tempted to follow it with "and an extra 5 shillings if you make it there in 10 minutes!" But I refrained. I had shown enough adolescence for one day.

I managed to make it back to the White House in the nick of time. We made our tour, and my two companions didn't seem too angry with me. The tour itself was gorgeous- a white chocolate White House gingerbread house, floral arrangements, and rich tapestries. But the thing that I will remember most is forgetting my ID, and having someone there to bail me out- someone who knew exactly what to do.

That day held chaos beyond belief, as it was the day of the infamous Christmas Party. I spent all day finalizing guest lists, knocking of riff-raff, and fearing for my life. It went by so fast, before I knew it, I was standing at the door, hair curled, in my new Zara dress, trying not to look cold as I greeted people, one by one.

I could smell the interns as they walked in. The Congressional ones who did not receive and invitation but had fan-dangled their way into our festivities. They wore ill-fitting suits and brought girlfriends in inappropriate dresses. I detest them with every fiber of my being.

But in no way, shape, or form, did that put a damper on my evening. After my shift at the door, I royally enjoyed my evening, walking around like I was the host of the party. Normally this behavior is not exhibited by me, yet, "when in Rome." I bid my farewell to the Ambassador, and even had my photograph taken with him. All in all, a smashing success witnessed by all in attendance.

The evening ended with sorrowful farewells between myself and the diplomats. However, one of them carried on the festivities at the Irish pub down the street. We walked with several Embassy employees down the street where a man from Northern Ireland, in a rather drunken state, gave me a piece of advice I shall never forget. He said, "Katrina...no matter what you do, don't you ever, don't even think about, don't even consider, don't ever let it cross your mind, don't even think about gettin married before you are 25." And you know what? That sounds like pretty decent advice to me.

You know why? Because I've realized in the past year that there are 101 things I want to do even before I turn 22. There are another 101 things I want to do before 23. The world is so full of things to do, and places to see. As of late, I quite literally feel as though the world is my oyster. Judge me if you will, but this sense of freedom has been earned and tested through fire!

From spending a semester in Denmark, and a semester in DC, I have gained a sense of boldness. I no longer believe that things like adventures- or important positions- or foreign destinations- or even love- are just for people more worthy than I. Rather, I can achieve anything I want. The catch is, I have to do it for myself.

But of course, I have been divinely favored. My opportunities are endless, and I am truly thankful for all that I have experienced thus far, and all that I am to experience in the future. I see the world no longer as a piece of solid fruit, but rather a dissected ornament, filled with hundreds of possibilities.

Tough Times

Today was an excepionally rough day at the Embassy. Okay, I take that back, it was actually absolutely fabulous.

I spent the morning attending to my new duties as hostess/gatekeeper for the Christmas party. Everyone has a Christmas tradition, and for the Irish, it is forcing the intern to manage the guest list. But I don't mind. I feel a bit powerful- like a hostess at a very "happening" restaurant. I am an E-Bouncer for party crashers and the uninvitees- all while remaining perfectly diplomatic. I complain because it's the Irish way, but really, I'm loving it. Don't tell anyone.

After a morning of that I prepared questions for a "Pub Quiz" for my students at Janney Elementary School. It was my final day at the school, and I wanted to give them something memorable. So I brought lots and lots of prizes, a trivia game, and my supervisor Deirdre.

At the school, they formed teams and I read the questions out loud. They were questions on subject matter I had taught them in the preceding weeks. Twenty-one questions in all, I asked them about the Irish Government and the European Union. The lowest score was 16/21. That is pretty darn good for ten year-olds. I was proud to see how smart they were, and proud to accept their Thank-You cards, which were both sweet and hilarious. Some were elaborate pop-up cards with drawings of Christmas trees. Others had a Big Red "N" and said "GO HUSKERS!" I found this especially moving. Almost all of them featured the Irish flag. One in particular caught my attention and brought me to tears of laughter.

On the cover, in the somber pencil-writing of a fifth grader, it was written:

"Bye Katrina Maybe I'll see you again"

On the inside, another picture of an Irish flag. And then more writing:

"Enjoy the rest of your life. Have fun in Nebraska."

A picture of two stick figures waving to each other. One saying bye. The other saying have fun.

The words of this child were so final. Enjoy the rest of your life. Even now I'm laughing. These kids were simply lovely.

When I returned to the Embassy, I spent the next couple of hours decorating the Embassy, using materials from giant dusty cardboard boxes. I was joined by my friend Noreen, and later Martina, who brought with her Irish Coffee (to keep in the holiday spirit). It was a marvelous time, just laughing with these ladies and strategizing the decor for a tree.

Although they insisted I go home, that it was past five, I refused them. I wasn't going to have the opportunity to do this at home. Plus, with Noreen (my adopted mother at the Embassy), I felt like I was doing it with my family. That's what Christmas is all about really, just being close to the people who are looking out for you, and remembering that someone has your back. That the people around you care about you.

After visiting the school, and decorating the tree, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had people who cared about me, and I had shown care for another group of people. I had finally affected something. Finally, I had thrown my full weight at something in Washington DC- and to my suprise- it moved. I have been striving all semester to make some sort of difference, and just now- days before I leave- I feel that sense of accomplishment. And it feels good.

For those of you who were expecting Part 2 of the series, stay tuned. That order is coming right up.

Also, a quick word about the format of my blog. I've thought of changing to something besides black, or adding more photos, or textures. I've thought of making it highly interactive with links and more videos. But when I look at my blog, I like that it is black, and the only light is my words. It is pure, simple, and symbolic. So that is why it is so plain, my apologies to you multimedia freaks.

Ten Minutes With the Intern

Welcome Readers to my blog series entitled:

"A Semester of Dual-Citizenship:
Irish Eyes in the Red, White, and Blue."

Introduction

Washington D.C.’s motto is, literally, “Taxation without representation.” While other states, such as Nebraska, use cheery motto’s such as is “The good life,” DC chooses this somber quip to express to you—from the moment you enter the area, to every time you read a license plate, that D.C is not a happy place.

Washington is a place where people take themselves very seriously. And that is no joke. This social quirk is especially apparent in the MetroRail system. When entering the metro, “standers” will slide to the right on the escalator, and the important people will dash down the steps on the left side. This is how the social hierarchy is established on public transport. The busier you are, the more important you must be. The two are directly related.

The particular thing of this system is that they are not simply “more important.” They are more important than you. These are the key facts for survival in DC.

At times it is hard to believe that these brutes on the metro are the same people who play Frisbee with their dogs in Stanton Square at night before the sun goes down. These people live and breathe according to the two rhythms of DC—very, very fast, and then trying to escape from the monster of responsibility that is their jobs and the city.

Now to give a fair perspective, I must say a word about myself. I am from Nebraska, which recently was named “the happiest state in America.” The reasoning for this? People live within their means. They don’t spend too much, and they aren’t in debt. They appreciate the simpler things.

Last semester, I studied in Aalborg, Denmark, which is, and has been for years, “the happiest place on earth.” Again, the reasoning given? Similarly, people live within their means. They consider everyone equals. In fact, the golden rule of Danish culture is literally “you are not better than anyone else.”

Coming from these happy places, I watch daily as people push and shove, all in the name of themselves. The general vibe of the city is that everyone is looking out for number one. I believe that people come to DC seeking to develop their careers. At the point in one’s life when they come to DC, they are looking for advancement. DC is a city of power, and those who seek it flock here.

Though I am hesitant to admit it, it is the reason I am here. I didn’t come here to help someone, or to raise money for someone else. I am here for the advancement of my career. I am here to build my knowledge of the world, and gain experience. What is wild to me is that I want this so badly for myself, that I am willing to work day in and day out—for free. This is the life of a DC Intern.

News from Lake Washington DC

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.

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."