Already?

Ten weeks down, five to go. Twenty-five weeks down if you count last year’s semester. Where did the time go?

I’m often asked if my time here in Washington has felt like a long or short stay. My answer is both. Certainly, because I have so many new experiences on a regular basis, what happened a week before usually feels like ages ago. However, it’s when you actually look at the dates on your calendar, or whenever a seasonal holiday comes and goes, that you realize just how quickly time has passed. Easter is tomorrow? Where did Christmas go? How can three months have passed when I still think that 2010 sounds like the setting of a science fiction movie?

Over at The Hill, I’m becoming increasingly comfortable at my desk. Some days are slower than others, and obviously some tasks are more stimulating than others, but overall, it has begun to feel as though I am actually working there. Yesterday, for the first time, I instructed a staffer on how to solve a technical problem (OK, I admit, it was just a problem with the printer, but still!). Who will take over place, my desk, my “hillresearch6″ e-mail account in five weeks? My legacy will probably live on mainly as the intended recipient of stray e-mails titled “Dear John”, just like I am currently getting e-mails intended for a certain Katelyn and, very occasionally, a certain Kim.

There are so many things I’m going to miss about my previously-new-but-soon-to-be-old life here in Washington. Best not to think too much about it.

Places You Remember

It’s funny how the places you remember best are rarely the ones you expected to become attached to.

My favorite spot in The Hampton is probably the penthouse sundeck. By any standards it really isn’t anything special; a spot of concrete, nearly empty except for a pair of sunchairs in a corner, over-zealously barricaded on all fronts with chainlink fences. It offers a panoramic vew of all the surrounding areas, though of course most of that space is occupied by office buildings, malls and honking cars on the Jefferson Davis Hwy. It’s nearly always windy and freezing cold up there. Yet, perhaps because the place is really the opposite of ingratiating, it becomes strangely refreshing to just hang around.

If you like observing things, you will find that there is always something new to dwell upon when looking out over the city. For instance, far to the east, there is a large, pagoda-like building that I’ve never been able to figure out the purpose of (and half-hope I never do, since the actual explanation would kill the mystery — and probably be a letdown anyway). On the northern horizon, five high-rise towers seem to protrude directly from a verdant park area somewhere in Fairfax County, in the warmer seasons looking rather like a snapshot from South America or Asia than Virginia. To the west, the monuments and government buildings of DC add to the mix their magisterial, chilly whiteness.

Taken as a whole, it becomes almost like a miniature world; complete with its own clearly defined geography. It’s not the kind of view that would lend itself well to a postcard, but perhaps that’s why it’s so intriguing — why would you want a view that you can get on a postcard anyway? Rather than leaving one uniform impression, it’s like a patchwork quilt: haphazardly strung together, but so full of details to get lost in if you have the time — and mindset.

When you’re in a city, it is good to locate the places in your vicinity where your mind works the most freely, where you can unwind and collect your thoughts. Perhaps this is especially true of people who grew up, like I did, in a rural area or small town. Still, those will probably be the places you will remember the best.

My First Day

The night before my first day at The Hill I didn’t sleep at all. It usually doesn’t take much to throw off the sleep mechanics of my brain – any form of psychological adjustment or cause for worry will do the trick, and then no amount of counting sheep will get it back on track.

So I got up early, put on my shirt, jacket and (pre-tied) tie and set off for work some 45 minutes earlier than I needed to. As I was riding the metro, the city of D.C. suddenly felt more tangible to me. It certainly wasn’t my first time in the city – like all Swedish students in the IBS program I had already spent three and a half months getting used to it – but something felt noticeably different. The high-rise office buildings, the pristine monuments, the rush from the metro, the ubiquitous newspaper salesmen; they all seemed to be connected in a great loop that you only really feel part of once you actually have a job to go to. You haven’t really experienced the city before your brain is cluttered with telephone numbers, addresses and scheduled appointments – only then do you understand why the official DC greeting consists of a “how are you?” followed by a millisecond’s wait for an answer, and then a brisk departure if the other person was too slow to follow up.

At work, I was introduced to the five other interns in the team. The worries were subsiding; I was assigned a desk, a telephone, a computer, and all the necessary accounts and passwords. I was itching to start working when I realized: What exactly was I supposed to do?

I looked around. The other interns were clattering away on their keyboards, answering phone calls with professionally calm, well-informed answers, and occasionally throwing out a question along the lines of: “Is bill so-and-so part of HJ Resolution 45, or is the statutory PAYGO act a separate bill?” I blinked. Were these actually the other interns? What could I possibly contribute to this environment? After a few hours of doing marginally useful things I pushed myself into making my first professional phone call. My voice felt very much unlike my own and I kept adjusting intonation, talking speed and level of formality with an alarming lack of consistency. After the schizophrenic conversation, I looked around to make sure none of the others had paid much attention, and returned hastily to what I was doing before. “Don’t worry,” I comforted myself, “You’re going to ace this job. You’re going to ace this job…”

As I walked down the corridor on my way home, I bumped into one of the senior journalists, whom I recognized from the briefing. For a reason unknown to me he was carrying a bag of lollipops. With a highly serious look on his face, he extended the bag to me and asked if I wanted one. I said yes. As he walked away, I unwrapped the lollipop. It was heart-shaped and said “Hug Me” in capital letters. As I walked out the glass doors crunching on the candy, I realized that my newfound clarity was gone and that D.C. was once again an intriguing mystery.

(P.S. For the record, John is very happy with his internship)