Identity crises are not just for old men and fancy cars

Did anyone else go through an identity crisis in their college years?

Living in a town where the people seem larger than life creates the perfect impetus for the individual examination of purpose and plan. The backdrop of the United States government can make you feel really small and unimportant, especially when you scurry every day through the shadows of the monuments to truly great men such as Washington and Lincoln. Today as I was walking home from work, every street had police blockades and federal sentinels stationed to guard the way as the Chinese president and his minions made their way in a siren-blaring motorcade to the state dinner at the White House. Hordes of protesters for Tibetan freedom chanted in rhythm about Hu Jintao's "failed leadership" and carried a mock-style coffin for the CCP "dead party." I speak to my fellow interns and they talk about going to Congressional meetings, briefing the undersecretary of the national treasury, or some other world-shaking project. Am I the only one who came to Washington, DC to find out where I wanted to go? Everyone, it seems, has an axe to grind or a platform to push. So where's my axe?

I can think of plenty of things that I feel passionate about, but I don't know if I want to make them my life purpose. For instance, I know that Liberia has some serious problems with incorporating their traditional judicial systems with the formal judicial system created by the new government. There's only one lawyer in the entire country with the background and education necessary to deal with juvenile delinquency. As it stands now, it would take ten years where a majority of students studied law in order for the judicial system to even begin to fill the posts necessary to run the formal system. Until then, they rely on the traditional tribal means of obtaining justice--systems that often implement torturous practices such as trial by ordeal. I recognize this as a situation that needs help and assistance. Do I want to make it my life purpose?

You see, I don't know if there's anything that I can think of that would inspire enough passion within me to keep me going for a lifetime of dedication. There's so much power in focus. People like Gandhi, Mother Theresa, and other remarkable figures found a cause to which they could dedicate their lives, and they stuck to it. I guess I came to Washington to find something like that--something that would help me catch a vision or glimpse of what I could accomplish with the ensuing years.

Instead, I'm working as a glorified secretary. Not even glorified, really. I just go by a different name: intern. I don't mind, honestly. I'm learning a lot. I can't tell you how much I've learned about the American government process, the state of the modern media, the Arab-Israeli peace negotiations, and the Liberian civil war. Not to mention the fact that I've added about twenty new words to my vocabulary (anathema, diaspora, plebiscite, pelf, unctuous). I appreciate these opportunities. But I guess I don't feel as though they're bringing me any closer to discovering my driving purpose for my career.

It doesn't have anything to do with money. I can handle being poor if it's for a cause. I can also probably handle being rich (I'll let you know when I try it). It has everything to do with waking up in the morning knowing that I belong somewhere--knowing that I have a meaningful, significant place, however small. I've only ever had this feeling a few times in my life. One of them was when I served my mission for my church. Never before and never since have I felt such a sense of purpose and meaning. Not sure where it went.

Cathedrals and Monuments

I am proud to be an American. I would like to see the children from this country spend a week in Washington, DC, touring the sites, reading the memorials, and learning the history. In remembering the great history of this country, I have re-discovered my love of the Constitution, the Founding Fathers, and courage of the early settlers. For all her mistakes and foibles, I believe in the destiny of America.

I cannot think of a single country in the history of the world that has tried to demonstrate Christian charity by coming to the defense of nations in need. I think of the various empires in Eastern Europe, Asia, or South America, and I can't think of a single instance when another country saw fit to intercede on behalf of those unable to defend their freedoms by their own power. I felt the strength of this heritage as I looked into the faces of the soldiers at the Korean War Memorial. There is a great deal of controversy on this topic, but I believe that we agree to help these nations because of what Abraham Lincoln said in his second inaugural address, that it would be unfit to "wring [your] bread from the sweat of other men's brows." And so we preserve our rights to freedom and liberty, and we preserve the rights of those who call for our aid.

The national cathedral is a sight to behold. I have never seen more vibrant colors in stained glass windows. When I entered the cathedral this afternoon, evensong was going on, and a children's choir from the cathedral school sang gospel hymns and gregorian chants. They ended with "Deep River," one of my favorite African American spirituals. Nobody told ever told me that beauty felt so much like heartache. The harmonies within that song echoed throughout the cathedral halls and honored the memory of the civil rights movement. I'm so grateful that the government of this country has provision for change. It could prove to be our downfall, but it has also proved to be the source of our greatest glory. I stayed to hear the Organ Recital from a prestigious organist, but, aside from the Bach fugue, I enjoyed listening to the spirituals from the children more.

I am ever thankful for Sundays. I feel calmer on Sundays, even when they are busy. Sundays sharpen my perspective and remind me of the faith that is the source of my greatest blessings. And because my prayers seem more sincere on Sunday, may God bless America.

North Korean Bullies

Worried about North Korea? I'm not sure we should be, according to news sources here in DC. Apparently they recently paraded around some missiles as a scare tactic, like a bully on the elementary school playground when the yard duty's back is turned. They wanted their rivals to cower in the face of a missile with a range of 2,000 kilometers. Unfortunately, their engineers failed to mention that those missiles were actually built for a submarine, and they will have to make extensive structural reinforcements in order to use it as a land-based weapon. Then they have to take extensive measures to test the launch of these new missiles over a period of years. Unfortunately, GPS is not a reliable source when it comes to long-range weapons and with where they are now, it would take them about 1,000 missiles to hit a single target. Even the U.S. doesn't have the artillery to just throw away missiles like that.

One of the scholars that I'm working with was on CNN last week. Take a look at what he has to say about Middle East peace negotiations. http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/bestoftv/2011/01/07/exp.ps.mideast.peace.process.cnn?iref=allsearch

Welcome to the Capital.

I am officially an intern in the capital city of the United States of America. Hello, adventure.

I live at a BYU owned building that houses the young adult institute, the Church Public Affairs office, and two floors of dormitories for BYU interns. The boys live on the third floor, and the girls live on the fourth. Across the street is a squat, white cinder-block Ethiopian restaurant and a small falafel place with blue neon lights. I walk back and forth to work each day (which takes about an hour and a half), and I get to walk right along Pennsylvania Avenue, in front of the White House (hence the pirated image from Google). I waved to Obama, but I'm not sure he saw. We'll have to work on that.

My internship is lowly research assistant at Woodrow Wilson International, a nonpartisan think tank that publishes scores of books about international and domestic issues. The scholar that I'm working with right now must remain undisclosed (for reasons I don't understand), but he has legs like a grasshopper. He must stand at least twice as tall as I am. I don't know how he fits those legs inside his office. Seriously. When he walks around, I always have the impression that he's standing on stilts. His waist is at my eye level. If I ever get up the courage to stop shaking in his presence, I'll ask him how tall he is. He's really nice though. My first day of work, he gave me about four books to read for "background research" in order to be familiar with the issues at hand. I also received a stack of yellow legal sheets with a scrawling, handwritten notes. I think he's so used to working in high-end government jobs that he never learned how to type. He always had secretaries that would type up his lengthy treatises on government machinations. I spent all day today trying to decipher the code of his handwriting, and learned two brand new words: "shellacking," and "animus." Don't make fun of me for my pitiful vocabulary. I was excited. I also learned all kinds of juicy tidbits about Kennedy, Roosevelt, Lincoln, and a slew of other presidents.

On other news, one of the girls that I work with sounds just like Penelope from Saturday Night Live. I feel like laughing every time she opens her mouth.

Also, the heel of one of my boots is mangled so badly that water inevitably seeps in. My boots are fairly effective at keeping my feet warm (if they could keep from getting wet), so I solved the problem by taking plastic grocery bags, putting them on my feet, and tying them around my ankles. It was very effective. I felt warm (though a little squishy) all the way to work.

I go to sleep with the sound of sirens in the background, just in case I was in danger of forgetting that I live in the pulsing heart of a great, big city.

Museums

I don't know if the rest of you just love looking around at old dead animals and artifacts. Maybe it's your favorite hobby. As for me, I go to museums to feed my ego. I feel smarter every time I take a moment to read the plaques, committing the multi-syllabic scientific terms to memory. My IQ increases every time I step inside these culturally rich arenas. While the inferior beings on the coast of California deign to surf, I glean rich, meaningless facts in darkened halls of the Natural History Museum in Los Angeles. For the benefit of the masses, I have included a list of some of the more interesting facts (minus the scientific terminology).

Apparently, male moose become very volatile during mating season, and they have been known to charge moving trains. A moose is also the same thing as an elk in Europe.

All mammals have the following characteristics: fur, mammary glands (in females), and three bones in the middle ear. Who knew that ears connected humans, muskrats, and kangaroos?

The duck billed platypus is one of the oldest mammals known to man.

The dodo bird is the poster child for human-caused extinction. Apparently they disappeared around 1690. The museum characterized them as "huge, flightless pigeons."

I have 28 pounds of bone weight.

Whales and camels are closely related in their DNA strands.

The African oryx is the animal closest related to the mythical unicorn. Apparently, the King James Version of the Bible translates the Hebrew word for oryx as unicorn.

I saw a prehistoric shark tooth the size of my palm. The shark that it belonged to measured over sixty feet in length.

Rubies are most plentiful in the metamorphosed rock of Mogok, Burma.

Call me shallow, but my favorite part of the museum was the Opal box in the vault. There was a beautiful white opal the size of my fist with green-gold fire trapped inside and flickering on the surface. What a fascinating rock. I couldn't stop staring at it.

I am happy to report that I know the definitions of all of the top ten words that people look up on Merriam-Webster.com. I'm thinking about signing up for the "word of the day" email notification just so that I can wax bombastic in my discourse.

Here are the top ten words according to Merriam-Webster:
1. pretentious
2. ubiquitous
3. love
4. cynical
5. apathetic
6. conundrum
7. albeit
8. ambiguous
9. integrity
10. affect/effect

Interesting commentary on American society that we have to look up the definitions for integrity and love. Typical.

Mom and Dad come into town tomorrow for Thanksgiving break. I had Thanksgiving dinner with my Family Home Evening group. We put a fake fire on the television and provided a full course meal complete with turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, jell-o, apple pie, rolls, green been casserole, and a vegetable platter. The conversation naturally turned to old mission stories and I felt all of my roommates roll their eyes. I couldn't help contributing a story of my own. They rolled their eyes even more.

The sisters' weekend was lovely. I think my favorite part was, surprisingly, going to see the movie together. The cartoon had numerous funny moments, and I laughed heartily--deep, stomach-aching laughter. I feel a deep kinship around the people with whom I can laugh freely. I don't always feel at ease enough to laugh loudly and mirthfully, but I do when I'm around my sisters. Here's to being a family.

family time

Weather report for Provo, Utah: Sunshine with a high of 57.

How lovely.

Spent Halloween Sunday up at Denise and James's home in Bountiful. We enjoyed a delicious Greek meal and delectable pumpkin pie for dessert. I serenaded the family on James's guitar, sporting the travis pick and the whopping two songs I know by heart, while they all played Scum. Max and Mason dragged me outside in my sunday best to kick the soccer ball and pretend to be goalie. Mostly, I crave the refuge of being with family, feeling accepted, and being in the presence of those that I love most in this world.

Today: Woke up at 5:00 AM to complete take-home midterm. Hello nose, please meet Mr. Grindstone. But I also discovered a bulletin board, dedicated to bad poetry, that made me grin. These were my favorites:

My dear roommate the pre-med

was just recently wed.

Perhaps she'd have seen

she preferred to date me

if my major weren't history instead.

That deliciously sly Mrs. Potiphar,

We know Joseph saw quite a lot of her

Til the day that he fled,

Left his shirt in her bed--

He never said what he thought of her.