Making Friends

(Today's photos symbolize me curling up on a log and not wanting to make friends, the next one is my renewed motivation to begin socializing again)

Basically people go to college for school and to make friends (among other things that i'm sure i didn't do at Gordon). After graduating and leaving that cultivating atmosphere, it's a like going 60 to 0 (60 having tons of friends around at all times to having none) and getting slapped in the face while racking up the phone bill because you have to talk on the phone all the time to keep in touch. Brutal. Well, moving to D.C,  I love (and i'm not being sarcastic) hanging out with my family. There's nothing better. But, i've also decided that instead of feeling sorry for myself that i have no friends around here, to start making some. I soon realized it's easier said than done. 

Moving around as a kid, making friends was almost second nature. But getting comfortable for those four years at college definitely got me out of friend-making shape. I need to work out. So between the small group of girls from church and the friends from the senate (not that i work in the senate.), i've had social activities these past two days. It's been great, but I've realized that conversation is almost harder to come by when with a random group of people because you don't have any foundation...you're just floating around in the sky, trying to grab on to any branch of similarity. 

But sometimes, well, for me at least, I just can't come up with any follow up questions. I'm a bad faker. When I'm done with the subject of conversation, I'm done. And I move so rigidly to the next subject, it's almost another punch in the gut and i feel like apologizing for my lack of friend making "fitness." Or worse, I just stand there and smile (one of those smiles where you don't show any teeth and tilt your head down a little bit) because I've lost all small talking skills. The person I'm talking to is helpless and confused because I'm just smiling at them. This is something that I need to practice more often and hopefully will continue to improve in my out-of-college-but-jobless-and-friendless (for now) life I lead. 

Me and the Newseum

There are 45 words in the First Amendment establishing freedom of religion, speech, press, assembly, and petition etched upon 50 tons of Tennessee marble covering the front of the Newseum. As D.C.'s most interactive museum, the Newseum creatively showcases these freedoms along with 35,000 historic newspaper front pages, 15 Theaters, 14 major galleries, 8 sections of the Berlin Wall, and more. Yes, this sounds like a pitch, and it may be, but yesterday, I pioneered my role as Newseum Volunteer, and with that new position comes my renewed appreciation and admiration for journalist. 

Although the wide legged khakis, green figureless polo, and windbreaker stand in my way each Monday and Friday from now on, yesterday's four and a half hour volunteer shift in the different galleries truly makes the uniform worth the stares in Starbucks, the snickers from my brother, and a few embarrassing pictures my mom.

For the first two hours, i followed Janet around. Known to fellow visitor service representatives as Miss Newseum, she showed me the different positions I will eventually take during my volunteer shifts. Janet dove right in to tell me she has some pet peeves. The first, untied shoelaces. I carefully gazed down at mine just to make sure i wasn't offending her. Some other ones? Smelly trash cans, dirty bathrooms, loose railings, blocked doors, chewed gum, volunteers who just stood there, and crooked signs, just to name a few.

 "I'm 55, so I'm pretty set in my ways and I do what I want...and if my boss is happy, then I'm going to keep on doing what I want," Janet said. She also decided to sing her Newseum song to me in the middle of the tour. . . there were three verses to the melody of Take Me Out to the Ball Game. After the two hours were up, Janet went to lunch, while I was left for another two and a half hours to wander and "get my feet wet" as a volunteer (as the Lead Coordinator told me) I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but I think I did pretty well. I told a little girl where the bathrooms were, I showed a woman where the 9/11 gallery was, and explained the progression of the News History gallery. 

I'm looking forward to the stories I will hear and learn while volunteering and sharing those experiences with others. And as far as the outfit goes? I guess it's the price I must pay. 

Time as I know it

I've noticed I've acquired a slightly different perspective on Time since I graduated. Before, I would categorize myself (and I'm sure others can attest) as a little obsessive compulsive slash paranoid. It probably stems from my dad's sense of the word and the little ditty he used while we were growing up; To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, to be late is to be forgotten. I take that very literally. Although in my mind, to be late means to be sweating, freaking out, snapping at anyone who is making you late, and sitting straight up and a little forward in the car to make it seem as though you are moving faster.

Here's an example (below) of a time when I was paranoid for no apparent reason. I was homecoming princess my senior year of high school and we were meeting in my town for pictures and a parade. Now, it's a five second clip so watch carefully. I think my sister is taking a picture, but she is actually taping. I get too nervous because i'm going to "be late" for who knows what. Notice at the end as I walk towards nobody and nothing...

 All that to say, things are a little different now. 

I only leave two hours to get into D.C (which I guess is about 25 minutes away), I'm only a little early when it comes to interviews (although I was an hour and a half early for one a few weeks ago), and I take naps now (because I can't keep my eyes open after my mom and I go to morning boot camp). Ok, I guess the only thing that has changed for me are the occasional naps. I really don't think Time will ever be "on my side" because for me Time is always "on my mind." 

 

I LoVermont

I'm back from my third wedding in four weeks. It was beautiful. Have you ever been to Vermont? The farther we drove north, the more the leaves were changing color. Here are some thoughts on Vermont. It was beautiful. I would never live there. I saw two hitch-hikers while it was pitch black outside. I think most people must use cash up there rather than debit or credit cards. Dirt roads were common. I didn't see a Starbucks once. I realized I may be a city girl. It was beautiful. 

The first night we arrived, we handmade the wedding favors; a bag of delicious carmel popcorn. I probably won't be eating too much of it anymore after seeing the amount of butter in it. Not only did the mother of the bride make most of the popcorn (with some help from bridesmaids and scripture readers), she then proceeded to prepare a full homemade lasagna and BREAD. She made bread...and not with a bread maker. She asked me to cut it and put it on the table so I grabbed a knife. I put my left hand on the loaf and was about to start when the mother said to me "You'll probably want a serrated knife." Oh sure I said, of course. Walking back over to the knife holder, I realized I had no idea what she had just said. That was my first inclination that I may not be as domestic as I thought. 

The night before the wedding there was a small but "joyous" celebration among the groom, his groomsmen, and the bridesmaids and friends. I wore flannel of course. In fact, one of the groomsmen asked me to go cut some wood out back. So the night progressed and as most parties go, there was some dancing. I pulled out my best moves which consisted of my imitation of Kristin Wiig as Kathy Lee Gifford. (watch until the very end). So I was moving my arms and doing my jig and noticed a group of my friends outside on the porch. I figured it'd be funny to dance along side the window to encourage more dancing. I began my sideways walk/dance and was pumping my arms with a face of pure enjoyment, until suddenly I didn't feel the floor anymore. As I fell down those seven stairs, I remembered midair that there were stairs there. I must have bounced on the fourth step and landed flat on my back. It was truly amazing that I didn't really get hurt, although part of my hip and most of my ego were bruised. 

That basically ended the girls' night and we walked back to our cabin for the night. The bruises didn't stop me from enjoying the wedding. I read scripture during the ceremony and danced again with my friends at the reception. This time however, there were no stairs. 

So even though Vermont may not be my next living location, I enjoyed the time I spent up there...way up there. It's a lovely state.