First Month in “The District”

Chicken Run

Sometime in between a career fair and an incredible performance by the Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam, I took a pretty bad tumble while on my gym’s elliptical machine.  (Who in the world falls while on an elliptical machine, anyway?)  I spent the next couple of hours on my couch, nursing the bruise with a frozen chicken breast.  I know that sitcoms dictate that I’m supposed to use a frozen steak, but when you’re not making a living wage, that cliché isn’t an option.

One of my goals during my internship is to become a better concertgoer.  Often, going to the symphony is like locking me in a room with a nice-looking man. Who only speaks French.  I’ll spend the first ten minutes or so letting the sounds wash over me, trying my hardest to appreciate the cadence.  But then it’s only a matter of time before my mind starts wandering, contemplating that big project at work or wondering how many lunches I can get out of the chicken breast I made last night (no, not the one I used to ice my leg).  Luckily, my cubicle mate Kim was a music performance major in college.  She told me some things to listen for during tonight’s performance, and it helped me focus a great deal.

I keep trying to fall in love with D.C., but various winter pitfalls are preventing me.  I spent the first two weeks recovering from some flu-like ailments, and my plans for the last two weeks were thwarted by Snowpocalypse 2010.  While I wait for the snow banks to melt, I’m completely content with falling in love with my fellow interns, who are the best lunch mates/concert-going pals a girl could ask for.

Also, our cubicle has a mascot:

According to his tag (and companion picture book), his name is Maestro Mouse.  I was going to launch an intern-wide campaign to find him the perfect name, but I never followed through.  (Because, you know, it’s a stuffed mouse.)  I currently call him “Mahler Mouse” which isn’t exactly an improvement.   When it comes to nomenclature, alliteration is admittedly such an easy way out.

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Tags: Melissa Wolfish