farewell

Like coming home from camp,
I'm back at home again,
With too much time on my hands,
And none of my good friends.

I didn't know how much I would miss everyone from DC. I've gotten used to the hectic schedule, living in cramped apartments, and dealing with a lot of drunk people. The last day on the steps was a drawn out goodbye circus. I didn't realize then I was bidding farewell to the girls and guys I'd come to love so much over the past four months, unsure when I'd see them again. How can I explain it?
Now when I'm bored, I look to see when the next group activity will be; class or a briefing, or going to Hawk and Dove. I expect at any time for one of the girls to walk in the door, for Jae to start another enthralling conversation and open my mind up to something new, for Masugi to send another ridiculous Tocqueville email. I wait but nothing happens. I've got my box of records, my computer, my space of carpet, my books, but nobody I'm thinking of. No Pavol, Warren, Jae, Lauren, Nikki, Javi, Adriaan, or anyone else. In everything I do, I stop and think "What would they say if they were here?" Everything. I didn't realize it would be this bad. I've never missed anyone like this.
Facebook and email are so impersonal. Facebook's nice, convenient, and the pictures on it are bittersweet like nothing I've felt before, but every wall post, every message, every comment is so tinged with a false self-deprecation, an unbidden joke, and a cordial amount of distance and coldness it makes the loss more awful by mixing your real, loving conception of a person with their facebook facade. Every person's profile I look at reminds me of all the good times we had and brings a lump into my throat. I didn't cry then but I want to weep now.
I wish I could bring all of them home with me. I want to have all the time in the world to spend with them. They are my family.
Time will dull the pain. Time will end the sadness, heal the wounds. Time will make me forget--but I don't want it to. I don't want to leave these people and that place behind. They're geniuses, all of them, geniuses at living, and they were teaching me and teaching me well, and now like any day in Rustici's class it's all over with a curt "End of lecture" and I don't want it to be. Teach me more. Fill me up. Never stop.
If I could just sit on a couch with one of them, just have another conversation, pass a few hours, and tell them in earnest what they meant to me, my heart would be eased.
Where will we all go? Will we read about each other in the papers? Will we have books up in the front of Barnes & Noble? Will we ever meet again? I know it will be so. We shall. Promises were made, and promises will be honored.
That's all I have to say.

what i'm famous for.

One more postworthy story as I head into our finals week, two papers and two tests by thursday and I'm 5 pages into the first paper.
Our final day of internships was Friday the 20th, so last week at my work we had a going away party for me. They had this also for the previous intern, and these are always pretty fun.
I got to pick what treat I wanted for it. The guy before me chose a tart, something I'd never had before, which was mediocre. You gotta have a taste for them I guess. I chose good old fashioned Krispy Kreme Donuts (I love them! In fact, I want to join to Krispy Kreme Klub! I told this to my black coworker, and she did not seem impressed).
The guy before me also was given a gift, specifically, Office Space on DVD. I was really hoping to get this, but in my party when my boss pulled the gift out, it was quite larger and heavier than a DVD. I must admit feeling a twinge of dismay when I could see I was not going to be adding that fine film to my library. But then she began her pre-gift speech: "All semester, we had Matt back there, alone, in the abyss of the intern workroom. It can get quite lonely and dull, but sometimes you'd head back there, and see the lights off, and just hear music coming from his cubicle. Matt was in fact kept company by four fine gentleman all semester."
At which point she handed me the gift:

Bam!

Steve Hayward, environment expert

the guy talked about in this ny times story is one of our professors here, for "Theories of Constitutional Interpretation." he's obviously very conservative, but i think he's a really good professor for the subject, knows quite a lot about it. he made this rebuttal to al gore's movie with the catchy title "An Inconvenient Truth... or Convenient Fiction?" i guess i'll probably see it; it's just not often that one of my professors releases a new movie and gets a leading new york times story while i'm taking a class from them.

Beatlemania!

I went to Borders during lunch yesterday, and what should I discover there but:
Pretty much the most important Beatles book ever! On the bargain shelf, for $5.99! Three hundred glossy color pages of encyclopedic Beatles knowledge, listing every concert, recording session, TV/radio appearance, movie filming, and anything else anyone might want to know. I can't even tell how many times Allan Pollack refers to this text. Exciting!
What's more, earlier this month, I found in a used bookstore this little gem:

I don't know much about this book, except that it's really cool as well. It's a little-known collection of the Daily Mirror's articles and photographs of the Beatles in the 1960's. Not much information value, but better for photos than Lewisohn.
My collection of Beatles literature has swollen quite a bit while I've been here. But, put a good/rare offer before me, and I'll be forced to take it. When in my life would I have ever found the first book so cheap, or the latter one at all? God only knows.
That was going to be my concluding photo, but now I just have to comment: By their hair, I'm guessing this photo is from late 1963/early 1964. At this time, John would have been 22, Paul 21, Ringo 22, and George 20. These guys were young! They were my age, and on top of the world! I don't know about others, but to me they look very adult. Obviously still youthful, with the ooing and shaking their heads, but the suits just give them so much more dignity. If that's the right word. Anyway, just had to marvel about that and wonder whether if I'd played my cards right, I could be in that same position today. I'll sign off then with this even earlier photo, from (I believe) their September 4, 1962 session recording "Love Me Do."

Why can't we let the people work it out?

Well, I guess my loyal readers deserve another update from me. It's late and I can't sleep, so you're now getting one, much to the dismay of my wakefulness come tomorrow morning.
I've started reading Huck Finn. A few weeks ago, I realized I'd never really read a classic American novel (from that century at least), so it was time. Got a copy at the used bookstore near where we live. I must say, that's one of the most perfect novels I've ever read. It never drags, it has a great story, deep characters, and I've never encountered better humor (in fiction) than Twain. For one of our classes, we have a final paper where we choose any topic that we can relate to Alexis de Tocqueville's Democracy in America, and I've decided to do mine as a comparison between Huck Finn and Democracy in America: showing how what Tocqueville sees with regards to race, individualism, literature, morality, family, and religion is also observed by Twain through Huck Finn. Or something like that.
Work is okay. It's kind of fun working there, but I think it may be only because I have the assurance that I won't be working at AAAS past a certain date. It has been a good experience, and I've seen a lot of the stuff I wanted to when coming here, but this internship has also shown me that I really don't want an office job for some fifty-odd years of my life--but I think I already knew that.
I write as much as I can in my free time. I need to really "sharpen my craft," as I call it, and hopefully get some more things published, so I can at least have some kind of portfolio to show for myself whenever I hit the career market. Whenever that will be.
This writing here doesn't count. This writing here sucks. This is single draft 3 AM writing.
I want to learn Chinese. Once I've done this, I'll go to China, and start a travel blog there. I will have 5 entries for 10 months.
My economics professor here is the best teacher I've ever had in my life. Seriously. Thomas Rustici, econ professor at George Mason. Before coming here, I had never really formed any strong thoughts about economics, but now I'm becoming a semi-psychotic libertarian. And I like it. Not libertarian like Philip Brooks (that term probably is too socialistic for him, he once defined himself on his facebook as "anarcho-capitalist"), but very disenchanted with the way the government handles economic policy. I'll amend that, it's too weak: I'm extremely baffled and upset and frustrated by politicians' eternal habit of putting needless regulations and taxes on the market, saying that they're helping the people, and oftentimes just needlessly killing a few unlucky citizens and making everyone else's life much, much worse. Professor Rustici has quite a few personal stories that relate the subject to him very ... personally.
In the lecture on minimum wage (hands down the best class lecture I've ever sat in), he told us through tears about his grandfather who immigrated here from Sicily, and while providing the money for a middle-class existence in the '30s, lost his eyesight. He lost his job, and in a few months, the family had spent all their savings, sold all their furniture, taken their older son (my professor's father) out of fifth grade to work 16 hour days in a bakery, and were still so hungry they at one point had to ask their neighbor for the weeds they picked out of their garden to eat. Eventually their catholic church set up a collection for them, and congregation members provided the parents with enough low-paying work to pay for putting meat on the table one night per week (the son never returned to school). But these jobs they were working paid below minimum wage, and when the federal government found out about it, they harassed the family and threatened to put them in jail for making less than minimum wage. They finally had to go do the work secretly in the basement of the church, and were able to make it through the rough years.
Well the class actually applauded when he finished that lecture, and it's certainly been the most powerful one, but he always has the best personal anecdotes and historical examples to back up his points. I'm serious: if everyone in this blamed country even just heard one lecture of this, so many terrible politicians and government economists would lose their jobs that, why, we'd have money! Imagine that. I think I may try to put this class into book form one day. Seriously.

Youth and its uses

Last week I went to meeting being held at a law firm about the Genetic Information Nondiscrimination Act (GINA). Normally these things are a speaker behind a podium giving a lecture to a crowd of people who are there because their company is watching what's going on with the policy in question. This one was totally different: the twenty or so of us in attendance sat at a big executive table, and the guy at the head was just kind of leading a discussion.
Problem with this was, everyone else in there was some kind of gray-haired lawyer or professional. Not to mention that it was a meeting held by the American Association of Jewish Lawyers and Jurists. And Matt Brandenburgh. And these guys really looked Jewish. Like they might own CNN and FOX and New York Times, and that's just one of em. Talk about intimidation.
But really, it wasn't that bad. Before the talk began, everyone was just casually chatting and getting to know each other, which was very friendly. One guy, on finding out I go to UGA, said that was his neice's first choice, but she's having trouble getting in because she's out-of-state and three or four others had already gotten in from her high school. This basically began a discussion by everyone of how good state schools are, which made me feel kinda special.
But being in these kinds of settings has caused me to reflect on my age and its meaning here in Washington. Everywhere I go, I'm easily the youngest person there. This really has a lot of special uses. Whenever I meet some foundation head or vice president of something or what have you, there's always an obligatory sort of "I'm still undergrad, so don't expect me to know anything about anything." It feels sheepish at first, but really this makes things a lot easier; suddenly no one expects anything from you, and they're just impressed that you're up here at 20 years old hobnobbing with congressmen and other sundry politicos. It seems like my age really has a disarming effect on experienced professionals. They seem to be actually interested in what I'm studying, what my plans are, what I'm doing up here, where I'm living, and how I like it. A lot of them offer whatever help they can, giving me their card or whatever advice they think would be most useful.
At this age, I'm too young to be their competition. In their eyes, I may just be the next JFK or Bob Woodward or *gasp* Bob Dylan. Their future's pretty set in their minds--they know where they're going to be when they retire. With a 20-year-old, there's no upper limit to where I might go, it's all there for the taking. They might just want to be a part of that. All they can tell is that I've taken the initiative to come here and get started.
What's more, being a college student allows you to look scruffy and be late. I usually have hair that is outside the Washingtonian look. That's okay for a student. If I was 23 and starting my career, I'd have to look as serious as possible all the time. Now, I can be late and everyone just thinks, "Oh, he's young and carefree, how wonderful!" And if I'm ever looking really sharp or being very punctual, it makes an even better impression. You can almost do no wrong. There's some magic about that.
I just had to post about that cool feeling. I'm going to have to enjoy it while I'm here; next time, I'm sure this won't be the case. I'll have joined the race, hopefully not to fall on my face, and make a big disgrace. As I've always said, that's just the way the breadcrumb crinkles.

The Colbert Redemption

Washington, DC is the best place in the world to learn about politics, I would venture to say. I have seen and heard many stories, theories, and ideas about how government operates, mostly coming from real participants in the process, and not just ones who've studied. My greatest educator here has been Stephen Colbert. One night here, the TV was on, and the Colbert Report began. Pavol and I turned our attention to it, and actually found it to be quite funny. I'd seen it before, but something made me appreciate it more now. Well, anyway, watching it has now become a nightly ritual (well, four nights a week, at least). I don't even know the last time I actually had a TV show that I made a point of watching regularly. I really don't even watch when I'm at college. But we do make an exception for Colbert. He's worth it.
I've been figuring out my summer situation (as mentioned in a previous post), and after hearing Stephen make some intern joke on his show, the thought of working there sounded really fun to me. So, I've sent them a letter and resume. Let's hope it works, and they'll pay some money, too. I'm not really counting on getting it, but why not just throw in my hat? Here's my letter (to be read with a healthy dose of sarcasm):

Dear MTV Networks,

Two years ago I started college, and it didn’t take long for the atheist pinko indoctrination process to work its evil magic on me. I began to question many of the basic principles that I’d always lived my life according to, such as that George W. Bush is our greatest president, and that McDonald’s food is healthy. I began to think of Arbor Day and Kwanzaa as more important than the Superbowl. Worst of all, I started to believe what they said about television. I began to see TV as a waste of time, and the shows on it which used to entertain me no longer did. I realize now this was all part of their brainwashing, but, in a way, those tweed-wearing tree-hugging Soviet-sucking worthless bastards were right: TV had lost something.

Primetime network channels had begun to air gameshows like “The Weakest Link,” with that carrot-topped cronish Brit barking insults at the contestants. The noble place once held by television dramas was taken over by “reality shows,” such as “Are You Hot?”, “Big Brother,” and the Anna Nicole Show (God rest her soul). On top of this vacuum of intelligence, I began to perceive that all of the news channels were trying to turn me into another mindless Orwellian drone, spoon-feeding me cooked-up, irrelevant garbage about schemes like “the situation in Iraq” and “the election” and expecting me to believe it without ever thinking twice. Every time I turned on the TV, all I saw was bland fact after bland fact, twenty-four stultifying hours a day.

I gave up on TV, my childhood love, and had to look elsewhere for answers. My life became full of studying, reading books, playing guitar, and talking to other people. In short, I was lost and alone; my life was empty and worthless.

One dark day, as I was standing in line to buy twenty boxes of sleeping pills, a blinding, radiant light shone down upon me, not from heaven, but from the face of Stephen Colbert on the TV screen behind the counter. In a moment, I was born anew in truth. With his words, he held me upside down and spanked the feeling back into me. The umbilical cord of mainstream media information was severed, and the placenta of the stagnant and repulsive ideas of the past was thrown away forever.

Stephen Colbert came into my life when I most needed it, when no one else would. He reached out his hand and said to me, “It’s okay, I’m right. You can trust me.” Once I accepted this, it was clear: he was right all along. I now feel more informed about our country and the world than anyone else I know. As a sign of dedication to the most trustworthy human being alive, I am getting a life-size tattoo of Mr. Colbert wearing a suit, all over my body. It will be done in 2013.

Stephen Colbert is a hero, plain and simple. In today’s world of strict factual reporting, Mr. Colbert is a shining beacon of interpretation of truth. When the terrorist-loving liberal media tromps out their “no-spin” version of the truth, Mr. Colbert is the first and only to take what they say and spin it right back the way it’s supposed to be. The way God made it. When Mr. Colbert speaks, great things happen. Trumpets play. Flags wave. Eagles soar. Democrats piss their pants. America, as a whole, smiles. I believe Mr. Colbert deserves to be called the New Father of our Country, for while Christopher Columbus founded this country in the name of freedom, Mr. Colbert saved it in the name of liberty.

It is with all this in mind that I humbly request the honor of serving as an intern on Mr. Colbert’s staff for the summer season of 2007. Just to hear his voice in person would make me retch in excitement. I want to be close to him, to be inundated with truthiness, to stand in the presence of the most Lincolnish man since George Washington himself. I want to touch the hem of his garment. If I could die having once spoken to Mr. Colbert, even just to say “how many copies do you need?” or “another cup of coffee, sir?”, I would consider my life complete.

Truthfully,

Matt Brandenburgh

Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta.

As promised long ago, here are some pictures of where I work and play.
My streetcorner. The glassy building on the corner is a Starbucks, the red-brick building to the left is my apartment. I live down in the basement!
Looking left down Pennsylvania, the street in front of the Starbucks. Cosi is some kind of sandwich place; they're everywhere here.
Looking the other way down Pennsylvania. This is a Dodge Stratus. Off in the distance behind it is the main building of the Library of Congress.This is my place of employment (kind of) (I don't get paid anything). Impressive looking, huh? That's eleven stories of granite, baby!

The American Association fo' the Advancement of Science.

Art.
An impressive-looking open foyer place in my office. I'm standing on the eighth floor, which is where my office is. This is just a big expansive open space (redundant much?) from the sixth to the eighth floor. Fun to look down while you're walking by.

Copy machine. Beyond it is my room.

My room.

My corner of my room.
What my corner looks like. It was totally clean when I came in, took about a week to get this way. Except that stuff under the desk. They just left me a bunch of left over bottles of water, juice, tea packets, and other catering stuff I guess.

My view all day. Sometimes I change the webpage.

A fantastic collection of stamps.
Starbucks in Chinatown. Starbucks are also everywhere here. Even moreso than Cosi. I like in Chinatown how all the signs are written in English and Chinese, even though I really doubt the Chinese have a word for "Starbucks" or "CVS." Cheese-bah-gah, right Ellis?
A Chinese gate.

My boss giving me a few articles to put in the database.

5 minutes later.

So there you are, folks. The exciting day-to-day existence of Washington, DC. It snowed this week, and today the snow is hard as ice. Some places have not been walked on, so it's just a solid sheet that you can glide across. I took time to do this on my way back from work, by the Capitol. I fell down a few times. I've seen snow like this before, but hey, why not act like a 20 year old and not an adult? Suits don't mean anything.



The snow is hard.

THE END.



Disclaimer: The pictures of me at work are for entertainment purposes only. Any events represented in them are entirely fictional, and a product of the author's imagination. Most of my time is spent working. Just having a little fun during the AAAS Annual Meeting when everyone's away. Satisfied, Mark?

Weather in D.C.

I don't want to sound like a Complainin' Cain, but this city is probably the coldest I've ever lived in. For one who spent the start of their life in Oklahoma and recent history in Georgia, walking to the subway in weather that is "12 degrees Fahrenheit, feels like 0" is a far frostbitten cry from anything that I've ever known. I don't know if that meant anything.
I actually took some pictures a while ago of my environs here, I'll post them whenever I remember to (Duh).
Figuring out what to do this summer. I'd like to do an REU, but Ted Shifrin has informed me that they're probably too competitive for me since I haven't taken very many upper level math or physics courses. Maybe next year. I would also like to find some way to maybe go abroad, since I've never been out of the country before. It would be good to actually go to Germany and practice my Deutsch in real situations. But being as how I'm participating in a really expensive program in D.C. right now that doesn't pay anything, my parents probably won't really cotton to the idea of me doing something else that costs them thousands of dollars with zero monetary payback. Therefore, it looks like it's back to my old Plan A of conference hosting at UGA. I'll probably do physics research. It will still be a good summer. I like summer in Georgia: I can do stiflingly hot weather, but not so much bitterly cold. I'll probably also get a banjo finally. Back to the good old days of no homework, playing piano four hours a day, walking everywhere, swimming, reading, playing records, maybe getting a tan, having short hair, being on meal plan, hanging out with captain E & the gang, writing a lot, volleyball, walking around downtown, athens zen group, running, and anything else I might do in the summer. I really do love that place. And this year I'll (hopefully) be getting payed more while doing less.

Peace Protest.

Yesterday here there was a big protest against the Iraq war. I went to take some pictures and learned that a friend from down in Georgia, Ms. Emily Burden, had come up for the protest, so I then met up with her and her friend.
This protest was crazy. I really can't think of any other word to describe it. It didn't make sense, how militant some of the peace activists were. They were trying to pick fights with the police, and advocating some pretty radical policies. Let me be clear that I don't agree with pulling out immediately (although this reminds me of a joke I heard there: What did George W. Bush not do that his dad should have done? Pull out.). We created the mess, we have to deal with it. As far as advancing their goal of peace, I think the protest had zero effect at best. What it actually probably did was make most of the country less sympathetic with the movement. I saw the Washington Post's coverage today, and with pictures of the angry protesters and activists like Tim Robbins and Jane Fonda, it came off looking negative.
Anyway, I took my camera, and got some photos and videos, so I'll see if I can get them up here.