My big Peace Corps interview was this morning! At 8 am. I am not a morning person. 8 am?! I did get there on time, two minutes early to be precise. But since I was only two minutes early I had to forgo coffee.
The interview went well. Surprisingly, at the end of the interview the recruiter nominated me to be a Community Development volunteer in Francophone Africa. I had assumed I would sit through a few more weeks or even a month or two of bureaucracy before the nomination. So, I was excited to be nominated, especially to the program and region I want to go to.
Then the recruiter gave me a choice within the Community Development program. I could either volunteer to work with municipal governments or with businesses. "I have to pick one, right now? I can't choose both?" I asked. No, I could not. I had to choose one. On the spot, right then and there, with nary a sentence description about either program.
Policy wonk Jay Girl said "Governments! Do it." Future Jay Girl, who earns an MBA, said "Businesses! This is a great learning opportunity!" Political science major Jay Girl, who aspires to work for the United Nations or the State Department, changing the world through sound policy fought back, pointing out this would be a great opportunity to work with international governments. Economics minor Jay Girl who believes in the free market and changes the world through creative capitalism and economic development made a second counter argument.
The recruiter seemed to sense this inner monologue was going on, so she recommended we go take care of my fingerprints. I tried asking her what program she felt I was better qualified for. She dodged the question in part, but first threw out that "You seem rather structured. Maybe the government option?" "Structured?!" I thought, offended. I was wearing a suit but this was a job interview, after all. And I wore a bright shirt under my suit with a pretty, beaded African necklace to hint at the unstructured side of my personality. But I could not be distracted by that; I had this decision to make. Right now.
In the end, I went with working with municipal governments. The bona fide city girl in me reasoned that if I was working with a government, whether it be city, provincial or national, the work would probably occur in a more urban environment. I really would like to be in a city but I am trying to maintain flexibility per the Peace Corps guidelines. So, that is what we went with though there is a 40% chance it will all change.
And when I arrived home that night to my tidy apartment I thought "Maybe I am structured."
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Rainy Autumn Days
I had the coziest most perfect autumn Saturday last week. My friend and I wandered to U Street for dinner at a wine bar. We talked and enjoyed each other's company over wine, cheese and small plates. Sitting at the window at the wine bar we watched the world go by amidst the autumn drizzle. There is something I just love about rainy fall days, wet leaves on the pavement, wearing my perfect fall trench coat and enjoying a glass of wine with a friend.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
It's a Wonderful World
Juxtaposed with my perfect rainy, autumn evening was a recent perfect Saturday morning. If I had been back in my hometown it would have been perfect, PERFECT weater for a football game. Alas, I was in DC so I went to the farmer's market where the vegetables were glorious and spendid. The market was filled with cute families, snuggly babies, and friendly dogs. And to complete the "It's a Wonderful World" feeling of the morning, when I walked by my local Baptist church there was a pretty wedding going on.
Bona Fide City Girl
Every once in a while living in the city you get the question "Why do you live in DC?" After all, there are plenty of bright, shining suburban communities surrounding DC. They would be more convenient to live in and cheaper, the argument is. You could drive to the grocery store. You could have a yard, a dog, laundry in your apartment, more space, a latte at Starbucks... The question is generally delivered in a tone of voice that implies the asker of the question thinks you are a little crazy. It's as if they are asking you "Why did you visit Canada for vacation in the middle of winter?"
Well, askers of this question, those who live in the suburban forests surrounding the city, here is my reply:
I live in the city, D.C. proper, because our nation's capital is one of the greatest cities on the Eastern Seaboard. I live in D.C. because that way, I can say I live two miles due north of the White House. I live in D.C. because if the Prez and First Lady happen to be out and about, I may run into them. I live in D.C. because I delight in seeing motorcades when I walk home from work. I live in D.C. because if I want to see the Hope Diamond at the Smithsonian, I can. I live in D.C. because if I want Chinese at 1 a.m. I can order it. I live in D.C. because the 'burbs are not! cheaper, especially when you consider time spent commuting and the difference in lifestyle. I live in D.C. because I can walk anywhere and everywhere in half an hour, whether it is to the Farmer's Market (see, the country comes to me), a bar, a coffee shop, a metro stop, a bookstore, a great restaurant, one of the dozens of great museums, theater, shopping... and the list goes on. I live in D.C. because it is a beautiful city and if I need green space, I go to a park which I do not have to maintain myself.
And on a more serious note, I live in D.C., I live in cities because I love the mix of people and cultures. Just in my tiny neighborhood I can get: Chinese, Indian, Korean, Thai, Vietnamese, Mexican, Ghanaian, Italian, English, French, Moroccan, Japanese, Belgian, El Salvadoran, Brazilian, Peruvian, Argentinean, and of course American food. My neighborhood is nearly a third, a third, a third white, Hispanic and black, with a small Asian population mixed in. My neighbors are young and old, black and white, purple and green, gay and straight, married and single. This mix of cultures and peoples just feels right to me. And that is why I live in D.C.
What's more, I have always loved living in the city. Since I moved away from my Midwestern hometown to go to college, I have lived in dense, urban areas, the only exception being the summer I spent out West. And to those who, as a follow up to asking me "Why do you live in D.C.?" tell me that when I have kids, I'll flee to the 'burbs if I don't before then, I have a few parting thoughts. While I am not going to promise I will never leave the city, any city, I will say that if I have to go someone is going to have to drag me out, kicking and screaming.
Well, askers of this question, those who live in the suburban forests surrounding the city, here is my reply:
I live in the city, D.C. proper, because our nation's capital is one of the greatest cities on the Eastern Seaboard. I live in D.C. because that way, I can say I live two miles due north of the White House. I live in D.C. because if the Prez and First Lady happen to be out and about, I may run into them. I live in D.C. because I delight in seeing motorcades when I walk home from work. I live in D.C. because if I want to see the Hope Diamond at the Smithsonian, I can. I live in D.C. because if I want Chinese at 1 a.m. I can order it. I live in D.C. because the 'burbs are not! cheaper, especially when you consider time spent commuting and the difference in lifestyle. I live in D.C. because I can walk anywhere and everywhere in half an hour, whether it is to the Farmer's Market (see, the country comes to me), a bar, a coffee shop, a metro stop, a bookstore, a great restaurant, one of the dozens of great museums, theater, shopping... and the list goes on. I live in D.C. because it is a beautiful city and if I need green space, I go to a park which I do not have to maintain myself.
And on a more serious note, I live in D.C., I live in cities because I love the mix of people and cultures. Just in my tiny neighborhood I can get: Chinese, Indian, Korean, Thai, Vietnamese, Mexican, Ghanaian, Italian, English, French, Moroccan, Japanese, Belgian, El Salvadoran, Brazilian, Peruvian, Argentinean, and of course American food. My neighborhood is nearly a third, a third, a third white, Hispanic and black, with a small Asian population mixed in. My neighbors are young and old, black and white, purple and green, gay and straight, married and single. This mix of cultures and peoples just feels right to me. And that is why I live in D.C.
What's more, I have always loved living in the city. Since I moved away from my Midwestern hometown to go to college, I have lived in dense, urban areas, the only exception being the summer I spent out West. And to those who, as a follow up to asking me "Why do you live in D.C.?" tell me that when I have kids, I'll flee to the 'burbs if I don't before then, I have a few parting thoughts. While I am not going to promise I will never leave the city, any city, I will say that if I have to go someone is going to have to drag me out, kicking and screaming.
Irony Alert
This week I have been suffering through a cold. The Peace Corps interview was looming on Friday, so I went into high alert to combat it. After all, I didn't want to show up with a runny nose coughing on the recruiter (who, incidentally, shares my name). Why didn't I just reschedule the interview? Having waited three weeks for this date, Sept. 18, I was too excited to reschedule.
Despite my natural inclinations, I took it easy. I made myself soup brimming with herbs and garlic, ate lots of Vitamin C, and got plenty of sleep. Friday morning I woke up ecstatic for the interview, despite a sniffly nose and the remnants of my cough. September 18, I kept thinking, is a big day. It is the beginning of me executing this life goal. It is a step toward my future. It is my opportunity to show the Peace Corps I am going to be a kick-a** volunteer. It is... (phone rings)
"Hello?" I say. "Hi, it's ________ from the Peace Corps. Your interview is cancelled. Your recruiter is sick."
Despite my natural inclinations, I took it easy. I made myself soup brimming with herbs and garlic, ate lots of Vitamin C, and got plenty of sleep. Friday morning I woke up ecstatic for the interview, despite a sniffly nose and the remnants of my cough. September 18, I kept thinking, is a big day. It is the beginning of me executing this life goal. It is a step toward my future. It is my opportunity to show the Peace Corps I am going to be a kick-a** volunteer. It is... (phone rings)
"Hello?" I say. "Hi, it's ________ from the Peace Corps. Your interview is cancelled. Your recruiter is sick."
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Dinner Party
I hosted a dinner party tonight. I love to cook, drink wine and enjoy times with friends. I enjoy playing host and tonight was no exception. My menu consisted of delicious recipes made from the vegetables, cheese, and bread I got at the farmer's market this morning right around the corner. A nice group of friends came and I felt lucky to have their friendship.
The party was a secret celebration of sorts. It is my reward for getting the Peace Corps application & references in. My interview is next Friday. I am very excited. But with that enthusiasm comes the inevitable question of where will I be in a year?
I could be in Africa. You can now feel the fall breeze in DC. Will this be the last fall breeze I feel for a while? My guy friends were updating us on football scores throughout the evening. That could be the farthest thing from the culture I'm a part of next fall. We are talking comfortably in English. Even that could be taken for granted a year from now. So could the electricity in my apartment, the running water in my kitchen and bathroom, the air conditioner that keeps me cool if I need it.
While I do feel I can withstand missing these creature comforts, I am trying to soak in the moments now and appreciate them. Because, my guess is when I am in the Peace Corps what I am going to miss is the cool fall breeze, the changing of the seasons, the colors of the leaves in the fall, watching college football, and these wonderful friendships.
The party was a secret celebration of sorts. It is my reward for getting the Peace Corps application & references in. My interview is next Friday. I am very excited. But with that enthusiasm comes the inevitable question of where will I be in a year?
I could be in Africa. You can now feel the fall breeze in DC. Will this be the last fall breeze I feel for a while? My guy friends were updating us on football scores throughout the evening. That could be the farthest thing from the culture I'm a part of next fall. We are talking comfortably in English. Even that could be taken for granted a year from now. So could the electricity in my apartment, the running water in my kitchen and bathroom, the air conditioner that keeps me cool if I need it.
While I do feel I can withstand missing these creature comforts, I am trying to soak in the moments now and appreciate them. Because, my guess is when I am in the Peace Corps what I am going to miss is the cool fall breeze, the changing of the seasons, the colors of the leaves in the fall, watching college football, and these wonderful friendships.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Pause and Appreciate
Today I awoke early in the morning around 5 am to the sound of light rain outside. Though I lay in bed for another hour once I got up I realized the weather matched my mood. It's not that I was feeling particularly down, nor had I realized the significance of the date. Nonetheless, I was feeling a bit somber as I got ready for work and walked to the metro.
It hit me as the subway went across the Potomac River to Virginia with the Pentagon in full view. It's September 11. Today, much like that day eight years ago, was just an ordinary day. There was no fear in my mind as I crossed the bridge and looked out at Washington, just as fear had been the furthest thing from many people's minds eight years ago.
This fleeting thought did not last long. There was too much to wrap up at work. And it did not cross my mind as I ran down to the parking garage at 9:45 am to coordinate taking a group of my co-workers to volunteer. It did not cross my mind as we drove back through DC and then back out to Virginia to deliver food to people who are chronically ill. We stopped at three houses and had three short interactions, three glimpses of humanity at its best, people helping people.
But as I sit here tonight, as I peruse other blogs and articles about today, I want to say I think those three glimpses of humanity are a fitting way to commemorate the nearly three thousand lives lost eight years ago today. And I've paused and appreciated the many moments today that I took for granted that could not have been taken for granted eight years ago in Washington. I hope you had a chance to do the same.
It hit me as the subway went across the Potomac River to Virginia with the Pentagon in full view. It's September 11. Today, much like that day eight years ago, was just an ordinary day. There was no fear in my mind as I crossed the bridge and looked out at Washington, just as fear had been the furthest thing from many people's minds eight years ago.
This fleeting thought did not last long. There was too much to wrap up at work. And it did not cross my mind as I ran down to the parking garage at 9:45 am to coordinate taking a group of my co-workers to volunteer. It did not cross my mind as we drove back through DC and then back out to Virginia to deliver food to people who are chronically ill. We stopped at three houses and had three short interactions, three glimpses of humanity at its best, people helping people.
But as I sit here tonight, as I peruse other blogs and articles about today, I want to say I think those three glimpses of humanity are a fitting way to commemorate the nearly three thousand lives lost eight years ago today. And I've paused and appreciated the many moments today that I took for granted that could not have been taken for granted eight years ago in Washington. I hope you had a chance to do the same.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
My Dream Job
My dream job is definitely being a writer. If you've seen Blood Diamond in my fantasy world I envision myself to be a Maddy Bowen, a courageous journalist not afraid to cover any story, even a story in an African country torn apart by war. Sidebar: Maddy always manages that perfect ruffled-yet-pulled-together look, even when running through a jungle or dodging bullets. That would be me, too. By the end of the movie, Maddy's journalism has led to something good. That's how I see this fantasy job of mine, combining my love of writing, politics, and travel to do some good in adventurous places.
In many ways, this blog is a first step into pretending I am a writer. For a brief spell in college I was a reporter for my Midwestern college paper. A news reporter, to be precise. My beat was faculty and staff and during my tenure there was a labor strike on campus. I was running all over campus and the newsroom, getting quotes from the labor union and the university administration. I had my white reporter's notebook, a pen, and wore whatever I deemed fashionable at the time.
Now that the reporting train has left the station, and it seems the news journalism industry is undergoing some changes, I live vicariously through this blog. But this week, with only 10 days before the deadline, I discovered a magazine contest I can enter. It requires an essay of 1500 words or less on the topic of the moment the writer first realized they were an adult. I've been doing some thinking on that topic and I think I can muster 1500 words. At the very least, it is a second foray into writing.
In many ways, this blog is a first step into pretending I am a writer. For a brief spell in college I was a reporter for my Midwestern college paper. A news reporter, to be precise. My beat was faculty and staff and during my tenure there was a labor strike on campus. I was running all over campus and the newsroom, getting quotes from the labor union and the university administration. I had my white reporter's notebook, a pen, and wore whatever I deemed fashionable at the time.
Now that the reporting train has left the station, and it seems the news journalism industry is undergoing some changes, I live vicariously through this blog. But this week, with only 10 days before the deadline, I discovered a magazine contest I can enter. It requires an essay of 1500 words or less on the topic of the moment the writer first realized they were an adult. I've been doing some thinking on that topic and I think I can muster 1500 words. At the very least, it is a second foray into writing.
