this is me, punching technology in the face

The program I’ve been using for my text analysis for my thesis won’t allow me to export my results into any sort of useful data analysis program.  This is likely due to the fact that the text program hasn’t been updated in several years while the data analysis program has been update every year.   Why didn’t someone tell me this two months ago?

girlie men aplenty

Every once in a while the universe likes to play tricks on me. Usually, it involves strange coincidences that prove to be humiliating, although sometimes it’s more humorous than traumatic. One day last week I was witness to one of these more humorous coincidences.

During the trip home from work each day I am usually passed by a number of other (faster) cyclists and pedestrians. On this one particularly day I was on foot and not paying much attention to anything when I heard a cyclist approaching from behind. Like all good path users he called out “Passing on your left,” to let me know to get out of the way. I made note of his particularly masculine voice and I watched as he passed, expecting to see a manly man ride by. Instead, and I had to do a double take here, it was the most petite woman I had ever seen. Or so I thought. Only his tremendous calf muscles were able to convince me that this was indeed a man. He rode on and I laughed to myself at the contradiction.

I kept walking a bit further uninterrupted and eventually heard another male voice alert me to his passing. Again, I was expecting a manly man, and was completely shocked when in my first glimpse I caught sight of his very pink, very feminine riding wear. Then, having had just enough time to think to myself how weird it was to have these two effeminate men pass me on the same short stretch of pavement, I looked up to see a tall, lanky man running towards me on the path. “Thank god,” I thought to myself. “An actual man who looks and dresses as he should.”

And no sooner did that thought go through my mind than he turned his head to the side, exposing the longest, grayest ponytail I have ever seen on a man.

Beware the girlie men. They’re everywhere.

on assignment with angel the intern

You have excellent theories about work and study, Clairnation, but perhaps you should consider this: the provocative beauty of procrastination. It is precisely when I am busiest that I must seek diversion.

Thus, Angel the Pig returns….

It is true that summer has ended and fall has begun and yes, I am busy finishing grad school. But with this final semester comes a new kind of freedom for Angel the Pig to celebrate – freedom from internships!

August marked a milestone of sorts for this piglet in that it brought with it the end of internship number five.

Five.

Five may not seem like a lot. Really, if it can be counted on one hand or one foot, that’s not too many, right? Please, trust me on this. I have the experience – five internships is a lot – and being older only makes it worse. When you go to school for your second degree (or third or fourth) you should be able to multiply your experience by the number of the degree to allow for a certain level of extra humiliation.

For me that would mean:
1 Undergrad Degree x 2 interships = 2 internships
2 Masters Degree x 3 internships = 6 internships

See, it’s like I’ve had 8 internships. That is a lot by any standards.

Humiliation is perhaps a strong word, but when you are 26, internships just can’t offer the same amount of prestige they once did. Somehow, interning for a congressman lacks luster when your classmates are already Senate press secretaries. Getting coffee for news editors isn’t as tasty when your lab partner is that editor. You are a wannabe. They are the real deal. Don’t ever forget that. Many nights I left wanting to scream “I’m not twelve. I’ve had a job before. I’M A CAPABLE HUMAN BEING!” But that’s a point that’s difficult to get across to your 23 year old boss.

Despite the long hours, lack of pay and extra stress, you should know that interns run the world. It’s true. We do everything.* That great shot on last night’s news? That was me, at 5a.m., getting the breaking story. The terrific sound clip on this morning’s talk radio? Also, me, badgering people during their lunch hours, trying to get both points of view. That letter of commendation you received from your Congressman (when he’s not in “rehab”)? That’s me too. I repeat: interns run the world.

Truly, I’ve done it all: Capitol Hill, the think tanks, the media. I have visited embassies, delivered documents to lobbyists, and given tours of the Capitol. I have written television proposals, gotten on-the-spot interviews, filmed military funerals. I have tracked down visa applications, spent weekends chaperoning academics and government officials at conferences, and made awkward, drunken dinner conversation with the heads of national organizations. I’ve answered phones, opened mail, and made coffee. In short, nothing that can be done has been done without me.

On one hand, there is some satisfaction in knowing that you are such a vital part of all things. On the other hand, I cannot buy groceries or pay bills with satisfaction. When you as an intern realize this, there comes a point when you will say “enough!” It’s that one moment when you refuse to work another second without pay and without respect – and with co-workers who’ve never bothered to learn your name.

This is my moment.

I will never go back.

*1 a : all that exists b : all that relates to the subject; 2 : all that is important
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