Something's in the Air

Have you ever noticed that the moment you start thinking about someone you forgot about, or haven't seen in awhile, within a short time span they're back in your life, even if it's just for a brief moment? Or, how about when you learn a new word that you've never even heard before, and then it seems like everyone around you is using it? I think the same thing applies to conversations; they become alive after the discussion is over. This past week, I've had more conversations about the bodily exchange of gas than the average person, or should I say the average guy has ever had. It's natural, it happens, and yes, even girls have gas. Some friends (girls) and I had a long discussion regarding this topic and how embarrassing it is to have to flatulate (the correct term for farting) in public. One of the girls explained to the rest of us her way of secretively flatulating when engaged in a conversation. "You just squeeze it in, let a little bit out to 'test' it to see how it smells, and if it's bad you say, 'wow, it smells awful.' And while you walk away you let the rest out." So, there's one way of secretively flatulating in public. I'll spear you readers the rest of the details of this conversation, but this I will tell you, unfortunately, everyone has gas.* With that being said, and with the discussion of flatulation only a few days in the past, I can't tell you how often I've smelt other peoples gas since that conversation. If I were walking down the streets of DC when a terrible smell came over me, that would be one thing. But no, it's always occurred while riding the metro, in a confined space, leaving us passengers the victim to someone else's flatulent. All I ask is for a little bit of decency the next time you're feeling the need to relieve yourself. Assess your surroundings, then act accordingly. And for Pete's sake, is something in the air?

*When I say everyone, I mean everyone but me of course. That would be both gross and unladylike.

So Naturally Overheard

I've ridden more public transportation in the past two weeks, than I have in my short, yet wonderful 22 years of life. And wow, what an experience it has been. In these past two weeks, the knowledge—or lack thereof—I've gain from eavesdropping is astounding. I grab the Washington Post every morning I get on the Metro, and occasionally I'll attempt to read Jane Eyre on the twenty minute ride home from DC. But it seems that no matter what I try to do to keep my mind on my own business, I somehow find myself listening to the conversations that are going on around me. The ride home is usually full of funny conversations about the drama, annoyances, and poor work ethic in the office. Then, just the other day I "overheard" two women talking about the lack of men in their lives, and how they like it that way. One of the women commented that she's too set in her ways to even consider allowing a man into her life. The other just replied that all they do is complicate life, (as understood from her story about her children, her ex husband, and the joy that accompanies dealing with the two). And best of all—so far anyway—was the high school couple who couldn't figure out why at 5 O' clock there was so many people on the Metro? Oh teenagers, so naive to life. But I guess in a big city, I am too. Regardless, the Metro has been a great experience. Who knew public transportation could be so fun? With that said, and I know it's only been two weeks, I think big city life and I are like peas and carrots. We just go together.

Small and simple things

I have to say that I believe one of the greatest facilities ever invented is the restroom. And when you don't have one, it's the worst thing possible. Well, that's been my experience the past week of working at my internship. It took me until Monday (I started work the previous Wednesday) to discover where the restroom on the 10th floor of the Blake Building is, and it took me until Wednesday (an entire week later) to discover how to get into that restroom. So, if you're wondering, the answer is YES. I've been working 8 hour days never having gone to the restroom (and I'm sure who's ever reading this wanted to know that.) If that doesn't have "intern" written all over it, I don't know what does. How was I to know that you have to have a key to get in? The last time I checked restrooms were open to anyone needing to use it.

Far away from the world I know

There wasn't time to think about the change that was taking place. And just like that, I walked away from Provo without the slightest recollection of doing so. Much to my surprise, the same kind of arrival greeted me this morning as I sat on the Metro headed into D.C. I had been in D.C. for less than nine hours and sleep was the last things my eyes were yearning for. Instead, my eyes were focused on the life of Jane Eyre. The words "Farragut West, exist on the left" had to stir me from my deep concentration. There was no time to think. No time to wonder what did I get myself into? Time didn't permit me to do so. I was quickly pushed out of the train and mixed into the hurried crowd of businessmen. I stood on 18th street gazing at the buildings that seemed to swallow me up, wondering which way to Connecticut Avenue? The gray haired man kindly pointed me in the right direction, and I was on my way. It was 9:21 as I stood in front of the doors which read, American Diabetes Association. I was nine minutes early for my first day of work. And just like that, I was given my own desk, my own responsibilities, and my own title as, "the intern". I still haven't fully grasped the concept that I'm no longer a student at BYU and living in Utah. But, I now reside in Virginia, my home for the next few months. Where did my life go? How did I get so far from home? And why are the right things always the hardest to do?