taste

If my sidebar is to be believed, I spend an inordinate amount of time combing the shelves of the Barnes & Noble in Union Station for books on terrorism. I also raid coworkers' personal libraries.

Of course I don't do that. Of course not.

Sunday night playlist, courtesy of iTunes shuffle and a little manipulation

Part 1, or, a startlingly accurate sampling of my musical tastes during my senior year of high school (man, that Emery show was electrifying):

1. Rufio: White Lights
2. Fall Out Boy: This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race
3. The Ting Tings: Fruit Machine
4. Emery: Dear Death, Part 2
5. Blaqk Audio: Again and Again and Again
6. Family Force 5: X-Girlfriend
7. AFI: The Last Kiss

Part 2, or, recent downloads that indicate little has changed:

1. Afrojack and Shermantology: Can't Stop Me
2. Margot and the Nuclear So-and-Sos: Broadripple is Burning
3. Matt & Toby: Good Boys
4. Steed Lord: Precognition (Steed Lord Machine Mix)
5. Steed Lord: Take My Hand (Mustard Pimp Remix)
6. The White Stripes: We're Going to be Friends

Monday Monday

1. Went to the Hill. Always a way to brighten up your day.

2. Chicken parmesan is delicious. 

3. And the oven didn't kill me. (I am slightly terrified of ovens.)

4. I finally get to write for POGO's blog! 

5. "He has the personality of a tree."

6. It's good to know that people who have lived here for over a year also have to pull out their phones every time they get on the Metro to make sure they're going in the right direction.

7. Over the weekend, an 82-year-old nun and several other elderly anti-nuclear weapons activists broke into  the Y-12 facility in Tennessee, got to where the uranium is stored, and spray painted all over everything before getting apprehended. Bad. Ass.
8. Old people broke into a nuclear facility--a nuclear facility with security guards. What is wrong with this picture?

9. I have mixed feelings about Dana leaving. On the one hand, Dana is great at what she does, and we're going to have a deficit of blog content for a while as everyone adjusts to her being gone. On the other hand, the reason I get to write for the blog is because she's leaving. So.

10. Seriously considering just doing the Fulbright application. Not sure I want it. Not sure I don't.

11. Andy: "I will be the chair of BIP next year, FYI."
Me: "Sweetness."
Andy: "That was not my reaction."

I see what you did there.

"Would you like to tailor your meal with chips or a drink?" -- cashier at Taylor Gourmet

My iron is not actually an iron.

It is a fire-breathing dragon masquerading as an iron.

STOP HISSING AT ME I JUST WANT TO PRESS THIS SKIRT NOT HAVE YOU BELCH STEAM ALL OVER THE ROOM

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There are days when I second-guess myself: when I sit at my desk and edit footnotes in our CMS, or when I go searching for work and find myself stuck configuring redirects. I told Ben that I am happy with the decision I made, and most days I am, and long term I will be, but there are days.

I work for an organization at the intersection of defense politics and journalism. The first part matches my interests; the latter part matches my skills. I watch as young interns--interns who could not explain the prisoner's dilemma or decode the acronym EIT--tag along to think-tank events and sit in on meetings with legends in the field. I am tethered to my desk. I wait.

Perhaps I feel I am entitled. I'd like to think I don't, but I'd also like to think I'm entitled to something for doing the grunt work for so many years, for fighting for opportunities and creating lemonade without any lemons. Ben is trying so very hard, but he gets shot down from above. He is angry. I am tired. 

I know that effort eventually results in reaching a goal. I know that I must wait, and I do, and I am, because there is really nothing else to do. Ben said, "You succeed early and you succeed often and eventually somebody notices." I feel as though people are noticing, slowly. The product of that notice will come later, I think. I know it will. It has to. I am waiting. I am ready.