Let's file this one under: Rantacular

The funk persists.

And I'm not afraid to let it out in the form of a rant. A overly personal, probably awkward, rant. Ahem.

Why do people refuse to hold hands during the "Our Father" during church? Nothing makes me quite as sad. Furthermore, nothing is quite as awful as me fishing for your outstretched hand in the middle of a prayer. But perhaps the worst of all is when you open your eyes to glare at me and clench your palm into a fist. Later, when you smile widely and extend your hand in peace, I get scared you are going to rip off my arm. This is one of those things that makes me question all of Northeastern America.

Why aren't leggings considered 'Holy Attire'? I resent being told how to dress. I have resented it since I first acquired the ability to put on clothes. Sometime I wear heels in the rain, just to be contrary. But I always use my best judgment for a situation. Telling me what to do only challenges me to do the opposite lately.

(That sideways L apparently means not)

... Actually, that's about all the ranting. Loyal Jen and Nicole readers should know that I intend to hijack this blog in an effort to practice my writing. Since I've hit an imaginary wall in my internship, I have renewed vigor to practice and more angst than a Fall Out Boy concert.

The Hot Streak

For whatever reason, I've been putting off writing this post that I've had in my head for a little while now. Mostly, I have been waiting for something terrible to happen to me, actually. Partly because I'm more used to writing self-deprecating posts but also because I'm a little superstitious about broadcasting good fortune. The truth is, I am on a hot streak. And having good luck makes me sure that bad luck is going to follow, especially if the world knows.

Perceived path of my life

The past two weeks has been a string of utterly shocking pleasant surprises. So many things that I have wanted, and a few I didn't even know I wanted, have gently fallen into my lap after 2 years of struggling. And while this success is a product of all the sweat and tears I put into everything, it's still strange to me. Like a dog catching its tail after chasing it for years.

Seriously, look at my life in list format:

1. I got an internship at NPR.

2. I was chosen for this fantastic D.C. Reads Team leader position.

• It pays me enough money to in turn, pay my rent.
• I genuinely love this program and want it to succeed.

3. Paula Poundstone randomly started following my twitter.

• I only have 4 followers total.
  
• All of my tweets are completely inane.
• How did anyone, let alone someone whose work I enjoy, find it?

4. Classy Yet Dangerous (my radio show) got a prime-time spot on Thursday nights.

5. I won 4 dollars in the lottery.

• That is a 1 dollar return on my investment.

So naturally, I was pretty relieved when I got acute food poisoning from the airport this morning on a 90 minute flight from North Caroline to D.C. Let's just say that that Egg McMuffin got a lot more air than God intended and I still have the dry heaves 5 hours later. Now it feels like the hot streak is over and whatever positive things happen aren't assisted by luck. Guess I was ready for a fresh start anyway.

Cowgirl Up

I started writing this post before we even had a blog- “How to be the Perfect Intern”. Actually, I started writing before I even had the job. Robbed of my traditional summer vices, I had to focus my energies into more productive outlets. My initial goal, looking like I spent a month at fat camp, proved to be a little lofty. So instead, I decided to find an internship. And eventually, through a fantastic mix of luck and connections, I ended up working with a magazine publishing company. It wouldn’t have happened without the hat though. Stumbling on a beat-up cowboy hat after starting my Equine Media Internship had to be divine providence.

…especially because landing the job felt like a miracle to me. I should point out that I know as much about horses as I do about publishing. Almost nothing. My new job working for a company that published magazines exclusively about horses was sure to involve more than a little of both. Still, I walked in utterly convinced that I was going to blow them away with my commitment and attention to detail. What I lacked in skills, I could make up for in zeal. Armed with my notebook, I was prepared for any task.

So when that first job turned out to be packing the office into boxes, I responded like I was about to wash Jesus’ feet with my hair and tears.

“Great! I’m really good at packing! I am a college student!” These were going to be the best mother-flipping boxes ever packed. Seven long hours and 20 cubic feet later, I wasn’t as sure, but actually, it did work out. However misguided my initial enthusiasm was, people actually appreciated my attitude. My coworkers gave me sympathetic grins as I dragged trash bags down the hall. And when I cheerily dashed downstairs to fish magazines out of a dumpster, I earned gratitude and an ally in my new office.

So yeah, my internship is turning out less like “The Devil Wears Prada” and more like “The Devil wears Wranglers and doesn’t really care what you do”. And yeah, I haven’t done much real work yet. But I’m still going to be the best intern ever.

--Megan