What, An Intern You Say?

Intern. What a glorious word. Not necessarily when you are one, although I was fortunate to have had good internship experiences, but I've heard the horror stories. And, at my first internship, we actually watched Office Space our final week in memoriam of our glorious summer work... so it's not like it was that good. Living in DC on the other hand...

My second internship was generally great. I worked as an academic conference planner and actually got to attend the conferences. Those were good times filled with early mornings, late night drinking and conversing, good food, and general merriment despite the fatigue that came with being the person responsible for the 6-7am set-ups every morning. And it's not like as a recent college graduate that you're going to turn down free, quality booze. I mean, come on, what's a little exhaustion in exchange for having access to food and drink you couldn't even dream about as a poor starving college student?

However, upon finishing my second internship I quickly approached a general feeling of disdain for the intern profession. I wanted to actually DO something, not just fill in temporary gaps in an organization.

Then I got my real job. Not so different than being an intern until you actually learn something useful. And I am not a conference or event planner, so those skills weren't all that helpful. And, even if you are doing actual work (which I do much of the time), you're still the bottom of the Totem pole. This is just the way it works being a 25-year-old business professional, but it certainly has its frustrating moments. Then, yesterday, my boss uttered the magical words: "So, do you know of anyone willing to do temporary work for us... you know, like a summer intern?"

That's right, intern! A person lower than me... whose job in many ways is to help me and will often report to me for various projects. I have to admit, upon hearing the news, I experienced one of the most professionally satisfying moments of my career. Oh the sweet, sweet feeling of being in charge of something again. How my tyrannical soul missed it so. After all, if there is one thing I am good at it is making others be successful whether they like it or not.

Now, the actual hiring of the intern is still very much up in the air and may not happen. I perfectly understand this despite my zeal. Nevertheless, just being able to dream of a day when I will once again be in charge of others is enough to keep me going during countless moments of frustration, inexperience, and general failure (not in the school sense of failure, but in the sense of not knowing what the client wants, what the boss wants, what society wants, who will answer your marketing pitches, etc. through no fault of your own because no one explains things until they have something in front of them by which to compare their expectations.)

It also means my time is more valuable than that of an intern's. So, I probably shouldn't be spending it finishing this blog entry. But, I must say, it's nice for my time to matter to someone other than me.

Did I mention how much I hate Tom Petty? Because I do.

Thankfully the only decent radio station in Atlanta - 99X - is back. It re-launched 2 Saturdays ago and I couldn't be happier. Especially when the radio station I had adopted to take its place when it went off the air after 20+ years in 2008 delivered this little item into my inbox yesterday: Tom Petty Weekend! from Dave FM. Fantastic. Just what I needed more of in my life: Tom Petty!

The month preceding 99X's comeback, I began tracking the frequency Tom Petty was played on that station. My conclusion - at least once an hour. ONCE AN HOUR. I conducted this sample at literally every hour of the day at some point or another. Sometimes at 1am, they'd even play him twice... just to be sure in case any other insomniac missed the first song. I'm convinced the station staff have a drinking game that commences when Petty is played. Or, has a rule that they can't smoke up without Petty in the background. Now, we all know that Tom Petty is the most popular artist by which to smoke a joint... well aside from the Grateful Dead, but let's not go there for now... but really? Once an hour? What about those of use who do not actually do drugs, but simply love music. Huh? What about us? Especially when we're loyal listeners at all times of day and night.

I will admit that I went through a period in college where I had a burned CD of Tom Petty's greatest hits or something from my roommate. I listed to Tom Petty 24/7 for about 3 months. That was all I the Petty I will ever need.

Sure, it's my fault I got burned out... oh the pun that wasn't even intentional... especially since I have never taken a single recreational drug in my life. However, even if I had not had my 3 month Petty binge in college, I certainly got my fill listening to Dave FM. And I was even beginning to be convinced that it actually a "good" radio station. Excluding Petty. And Sting. If I have to hear "Roxanne" one more time, I will probably throw something at an innocent bystander. Or window.

It got to the point where I would yell in a really excited voice to my husband in the next room, "Hey! Guess what?" And he would run in or respond with equal fervor, "What?!" To which I would respond sardonically, "Guess who's on the radio? Tom Petty - NO WAY!" (I also added Sting to my game to add variety, but he's not quite as bad. At least he was worthy of some rep during his prime. Petty not so much - despite popularity.)

Obviously, this game got a little old... but was at least more entertaining that the damn music. And then miraculously 99X was back on the FM airwaves. So, Dave FM can take their "Tom Petty Weekend!" and leave it with the rest of the burnouts. The rest of us have moved back to greener pastures.

New Goal #2

You knew this was coming... but here it is anyway. I got a Kindle 2 last week. I like to think of it as the best day of my life. Wait, not your wedding day? Or graduation from your excruciating college (that merits further explanation, but it's really too involved for my current purposes)? Or moving away from Luck, Wisconsin... Rome, Georgia... Waco, Texas? Nope. The Kindle far outweighs any of them (my husband understands this completely, hence why he bought it for me. We have a very honest relationship - and by honest I mean blunt. At least on my end. I tend to throw things if he reciprocates and I'm in a bad mood...)

In a way, my reaction to the Kindle is nothing short of pathetic and I'm okay with that. Some people have babies. Others have pets. Some even have copious amounts of houseplants. And I salute all of them... even as their thousands of pictures cloud up my Facebook news feed. But, I have a wireless reading device. Haha! And I treat it like it's my baby... it has a sleek case that is lined with high quality padded leather (one may compare it to a car seat/baby carrier), it's constantly teaching me new things, and it never leaves my side. It also talks if I ask it to and goes to sleep when it's told. What could be better?

I am completely in love with it. Like the mothers who stare longingly at their new little feces machines, I can just stare at its sleek design for hours on end. I dream about opening it and reading all the hysterical memoirs I have loaded on to it by modern women with senses of humor much like my own. It truly has improved my life and gives me something to look forward to even on the most dull and ordinary day.

I am reminded of my childhood when I would beg my parents to buy me the new Babysitters' Club, Boxcar Children, or Saddle Club book or whatever other series I was reading at the time. The pure excitement and joy of reading that I have not had in almost 10 years. There were still hints of it in high school, but college destroyed my love of reading despite teaching me how to be a better reader. For that, I will always be grateful. However, it's great to be back.

This also leads me to my second new goal. I started this blog as a venue to essentially vent about politics and society. It was in the throngs of the 2008 election and the irrationality on both sides was staggering. So, I may decide to rename this... through writing this blog I think it's pretty evident that despite my total commitment to reason as a virtue and behaving reasonably... I often fail. Actually, more times than not. Maybe I'm still more reasonable that most. I like to think so. But, I think this will be a more interesting blog if it is more personal and less in the third-person abstract sense. One day - far in the future - I would like to write a comedic memoir much like the ones I am currently devouring. As much I enjoy discussing business, politics, and foreign affairs I enjoy real people's stories even more. After all, reality is often stranger than fiction, right?

So... this will be my experiment in personal writing (that ideally does not offend others or compromise myself.) I'll see how it goes. I'm guessing I won't post again for a month out of sheer anxiety...

In the meantime, you should buy a Kindle 2. It's an amazing way to change your life and improve the human experience without having to actually affect another living being. Thank you Amazon.com.

New Life Goal

My husband and I spent the last weekend driving approximately 1,300 miles through 8 states. It rained... make that down poured... 75% of the time. We saw actual slivers of blue sky exactly once. I have never seen so many trailer parks in my entire life and I grew up in a very poor area of the country. If this example were on the SAT... Trailer Parks are to Missouri as Cows are to Wisconsin. I'm still a little taken aback by all the "scenery" we took in. I will probably post some of my favorites when I fire my camera back up.

That being said, I was glad we were able to go to our friend's wedding. I am very pro-supporting friends and sharing their big life experiences with them. So, that part was good.

However, this trip prompted my next major goal: Never venturing outside of the city limits of a locale that has a population less than 500,000. This will most likely be difficult if I ever want to see my family or home town friends again, so I doubt it will seriously happen. If only it were an ideal world and all my friends and family lived in the downtown areas of the biggest cities in the country. And we had light rail connecting them when not wanting to battle airport traffic. That would be a grand thing.

So, if you're ever with me when I have to go outside of the perimeter I will start hyperventilating... which is why I can't drive in those situations. There is no longer any "country mouse" side of me despite my upbringing. This has its downsides and maybe even makes me a bit of a snob, but after this trip I just don't care. Give me my bustling, shiny cities or give me panic-induced, hyperventilating, heart attack or car accidental death.

Oh, and remind me NEVER to complain about living in Atlanta ever again. It may not be New York City or Boston or Chicago, but if one must live in the South East it certainly is the best option available (outside of some select cities in Florida.) Never has there been a more beautiful sight that driving over a hill and seeing the Atlanta sky line.

Why Do I Have Sympathy For A Pirate?

The Somali pirate situation has me bothered on so many levels. First, it's alarming that pirates are now willing to attack major U.S. merchant ships (even considering their pathetically small and rundown boats they use to do this.) I'm a little tired of worrying about the state of our foreign policy, so I'm going to leave that one alone for the most part. Typically I would be on board with those who are crying to make an example of the surviving pirate who is now being held for charges in New York (because that is apparently where African crimes and issues are dealt with.) In a theoretical way I still feel that way. However, after seeing the pictures of him in the news all I really feel is sympathy.

People were outraged because he was smiling when he got off the boat and was being photographed on the way into the court house (or jail... I'm not sure which.) He was handcuffed and in a prison-type uniform, but was grinning like he just won the lottery. The reason being that in his mind he did. When outraged reporters grilled his lawyer about why he was happy, they replied "He had never seen a camera before." That breaks my heart. He was happy to be in America - to see its affluence and humane treatment of people... even a reviled prisoner like himself.

It is important to note here that the amount of money they took from the Maersk Alabama was only US$30,000. Now, $30k is nothing to turn your nose up at, but at the same time is $30k worth a lifetime in prison? Or the high probability of being killed in the process? Or having to commit atrocities that you don't want to do, but feel are necessary because you're so desperate for money?

That figure makes me sick. This is how impoverished Somalia is - $30k would actually have made a difference for those pirates. They would have felt as rich as I would feel winning a million. I can't even fathom such a place. This is another reason I feel sympathy for the pirate.

Going in to the charging proceedings, there remains great debate about his age. It has been reported as being anywhere from 15-26 with no accurate records to support any of them. It can generally assumed that he was at least of a cognizant age and that he therefore understood that his actions were wrong. This will most likely result in a lifetime prison sentence on the 4 felony counts he is being charged with having to deal with very old laws regarding piracy and hostages. Such a sentence is most likely fair. I wouldn't argue with it assuming the evidence proves them all. However, it still doesn't make me feel any better about the situation.

As Americans we are quick to judge... virtually everything and everyone. I don't know why this is, but I do think humility is a lost virtue for most Americans. Probably including myself. Yet, I can't stand to hear the people calling for the pitchforks and mob before even listening to the full story. Now, Captain Philips has the right to any opinion since he was the victim and acted incredibly heroically. He is the one light in this whole mess. He accepted his responsibility and handled it admirably saving the lives and well being of his crew. He deserves a Presidential or Congressional medal for his actions. I just wish that people would be willing to at least look at the situation to understand the piracy situation.

The Obama Administration talks about wanting to improve our image abroad and rebuild relationships with other nations. To make a safer, better world. I certainly do not disagree with those aspirations. However, instead of wasting time having photo ops with Russian and Venezuelan leaders, maybe we could think of a legitimate humanitarian assistance program for Somalia. I bet then they wouldn't be so eager to go after Western merchant vessels.

Untitled #4

I have been thinking a lot about contemporary art lately and most importantly why I love it so much when others have such great disdain for it. We went to the High Museum of Art two weekends ago (along with the rest of Atlanta and the surrounding areas apparently) to see the exhibit: The First Emperor: China's Terracotta Army. I have been interested in seeing the Terracotta Army since studying it in 9th Grade World History. I think it's absolutely fascinating and an amazing artistic and historical discovery. Once upon a time I even dreamed of taking a trip to China to see them and the excavation site. So, when the High announced it was going to bring part of the exhibit here I was elated! Of course I would still love to visit China one day, but if it by chance doesn't work out I still got to see the army. The High did a superb job of curating the exhibit. Much better than any I have seen there in the last 3 years (the Impressionist exhibit was installed terribly despite some of the fine pieces as were most segments of the Louvre Atlanta exhibit.) The trip was worth the annoying throng of army-viewers that exploded from OTP like cockroaches running for cover when the lights are turned on. My husband conducted a random sampling while we were waiting and concluded that 75% of the visitors that day were obese. This did not assist in our efforts to view and appreciate the ancient artifacts. They also hovered within the museum etiquettely-correct 18 inches of a piece. It was quite infuriating. Thankfully it did not detract from the exquisite pieces themselves. This is not to say that I did not unwillingly shove my purse into the protruding bellies of several visitors attempting to suffocate me. Oops.

Upon completing our journey through The First Emperor, we decided to see the last Louvre Atlanta exhibit. It was massively disappointing, but at least there were no crowds. We then went to the main building of the High where the permanent collection is held. I was pleased to see the new acquisitions of modern and contemporary pieces. Despite my great appreciation for the classic painters, there is something about the contemporaries especially that I love. The more it looks like a pre-schooler had a tantrum and threw his fingerpaints against the wall, the better I say. I wish I could afford to buy real pieces of art and not the sad poster depictions of them, but unfortunately real art is not a luxury that is in my current budget. Maybe one day...

I was viewing the newly acquired pieces and was on cloud nine. There's nothing like beautiful art to put me in a good mood, although it caused me to think about why so many people not only do not appreciate modern and contemporary art, but actually hate it. The beauty I see in the "randomness" that I know is not random at all completely escapes those who say "Well, I could do that."Maybe you could, but you don't. That is the difference. Maybe we all could be contemporary artists in our own way, but most of us are not. We don't even try.

Now, I don't view myself to be an artist, merely an appreciator of art. I'm honestly not as well versed in art history as I would like, but I try to improve. So, I do not want to paint a giant canvass blue and call it "untitled abyss #7." I certainly appreciate the person who thought that was worthwhile though. And if art is truly a reflection of our age (in the generational/era sense, not actual years), then contemporary art is more telling than most of our mediums accurately reflect. Contemporary art embraces what we are and shows it to us. Maybe we are just blue paint on a square canvas, but what shade of blue? Why has the need to accurately portray people vanished? Are we so similar - or complimentary to one another - that our pixels merely combine to form a solid page? Perhaps. Or perhaps not - which is why the nature of the pieces vary. Or do we simply need a return to the basics to understand who we are and what life is truly about? I think the latter is why it speaks to me on such a profound level.

I'm in the initial planning stages of a possible summer vacation that has anywhere from 2-4 art museum visits scheduled. I can't wait.

The Sky Is Falling

Well, in my case it's actually the ceiling. Make that TWO ceilings. The first being the ceiling in my wonderfully sh*tty apartment. I loathe that apartment. We finally decided to suck it up, embrace adulthood, and buy our first house/townhouse/condo/treehouse/cardboard box (hopefully not the latter two, but I'm just bracing myself for the way things have been going.) I'm truly holding out hope that I can find a *nice* place less than 30 minutes from work. I'm really, really hoping. I don't care if it's a shoebox as long as there are 4 well-painted walls, some real tile, and has sturdy ceilings with no upstairs neighbors to rain down on them. This brings me to my point...

The first ceiling incident occurred Valentine's Day night. Some background: I was already peeved because my husband got a call the afternoon before asking if he was available to work ALL weekend (and by all I mean, every day until midnight or 1am.) He wisely told them he had plans for Saturday night with his wife for Valentine's day, but that he was free until 5pm that day and until midnight for the next century... So, he got home Saturday after being worn out from working. We got ready and went to Cirque de Soleil. Getting there was a mild disaster, but we made it... only 10 minutes late after walking around Atlanta Station for about 45 minutes trying to find the entrance to the damn tent. The show was interesting... not really my thing, but I'm glad we went. I would never spend that much money to see that show again. I thought it was going to be much more "show" than "circus." Unfortunately, "circus" prevailed and we're both incredibly freaked out by clowns. We were looking forward to going home and relaxing after the stressful day/evening, but when we walked into the aforementioned crap heap we call an apartment, we were met with a giant puddle in the middle of our sagging kitchen floor.

"Hmm, I thought. Where could this come from?"

I then made the mistake of looking up.

Long story short, the upstairs neighbor's dishwasher overflowed. And, since there's virtually no insulation separating our apartments (we hear every glorious peyote-induced praise fest, bongo drum song, toilet use, and aerobic workout), the putrid dishwasher water was flowing over my ceiling, running across my light light fixture, and splashing onto my Gucci glasses (before hitting the floor.) I was not pleased. We were genuinely afraid the ceiling was about to collapse, so we did the rational thing and called the after hours maintenance line. It was about midnight by then and the guy didn't show up until at least 1:30am. He was, of course, complaining. At least it wasn't his house.

That was the first ceiling disaster. The second happened today... I was sitting in my office minding my own business when I heard this "creak, creak, creak... pitter, patter" sound. At first, I thought it was background music in my headphones. Then I thought that the office upstairs had gotten a new printer. It continued. I investigated the rest of the office... no creaky sound. I sat back down and looked up. (Why do I never learn???) I saw some discolored areas in the tile, but they looked old. I couldn't tell if they were expanding while I was continually watching them, so I thought I would go to the bathroom and come back to see if there was a size difference or if I was hallucinating. Turns out, it was in fact another leak. (I was consoled that I wasn't hallucinating... the only upside.) The "shaded area" had grown to a steady stream of water falling onto my desk... about 6 inches away from my computer. Luckily, I grabbed the computer before serious damage was done. After letting out a slew of explitives, I threw a trash can under it and went up to the office management company's office. They were very helpful and had someone come out and take care of it immediately, which was great! He even cleaned up even though I told him not to. My kind of guy! :) He tried to patch the hole... and turned off the water to the dental chair that is directly above my desk on the floor above (it's a dentist office.) It's supposed to be fixed for now, but may leak more over night. I'm staying at the other desk until I go home for the day so as to not test my luck further.

So, that's my story. I think it just about sums up the state of things these days... except in the broader context, Obama is the leaky dental chair from the floor above me that I can't control and I'm the poor desk who can't get out of the way of the impending flood that will destroy all of my hard work.