I. I'd like to point out that it's been a full three weeks in DC as of today, and my feet are still acting like incredibly stupid and needy Golden Labs. I just can't shake 'em! Band-aids have become my substitute layer of flesh!! Kevin found me in a park last night, wimpering because I didn't want to make the new blisters any worse. Four band-aids later, we hobbled over to check out my potentially new habitation on Capitol Hill.
Context: I'm living in a dorm on the GW campus, three blocks from the White House. Although the location can't be beat (in terms of Trader Joe proximity), I... find this dorm... rather gross. There's historic charm, and then there's dilapidated crap. I live in the latter. They apparently repainted my room while I was at work yesterday; this I know because of the white paint splattered all over two shirts I had left on my bed. I'll not repeat my tirade about that matter in print.
I had to move in August anyway, so just so y'all know -- I'm going to abandon GW a bit early and essentially house-sit for a husband-wife teaching artist team, who are away for residencies in August. They have a sincerely beautiful house on Capitol Hill, so I'll be able to watch fireflies in the evening and have a nice big kitchen and do laundry without fretting over my quarter supply. This is very good news.
II. Intern stuff: well, it's true: Big Brother is watching you. During happy hour with the interns tonight (in Georgetown!), I learned that one of the PR intern's tasks is to monitor how much a certain museum's name pops up in people's personal blogs. I totally understand why the museum would want to track such information; it's like tracking down honest, unsolicited comment cards on the Web -- at the same time, it pays to be prudent -- or altogether silent -- about all things professional whilst on the Web. Ahem.
So let's keep it frivolous, and talk incessantly about my feet and my food supply!
Oh, and a modern dance performance I saw today, for free, at the Shakespeare Theatre Company. Pretty amazing way to spend one's lunch hour.
Showing posts with label feet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feet. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Week One: Blood, Art, and Databases
My first real week is complete, and my narrative begins with the odyssey of my First Horrific Day.
Fresh from my hideous trip into the city, I began my jaunty walk to work -- a quick ten blocks -- wearing a nice little suit jacket and my vintage Italian heels. Starbucks in hand, I felt I was blending in well with the purposeful natives.
Until about one block past the White House. My right toe began to feel suddenly so... well, flayed. Terribly, roughly, inescapably stripped of its flesh by my darling leather shoes. Thinking myself prepared, I sat down and affixed a bandage (!) and began to limp down the street, only six blocks to go.
It turns out that the bandage was too floppy to help and in fact aggravated the right-foot-situation. This became evident when I was at least three blocks from my first day on the job, because the pressure of limping caused my LEFT foot to blow out -- same toe, opposite foot, same neon pink bald patch on my defenseless tiny toe.
I essentially met my new boss in the infirmary (conveniently located in my building's basement!), and her reaction to the situation confirmed that I'm in a good place. She re-scheduled my day so as to avoid walking (!) and arranged for me to take my first-day tour of the Portrait Gallery... in a wheelchair.
My first time in a wheelchair, mind you. Very humbling experience, particularly as this was also the first chance I had to meet my fellow interns. Yet again, people's true natures seem to come out in the most painful situations; I was pushed around by a very kind intern named Lee-Ann. Yey for Lee-Ann!
And yey for new experiences. Although it may sound cheesy, it was so insightful to take a tour in a wheelchair. I experienced my visit in a completely different way -- noting the signage, the height of the artworks, the difficulty or ease of getting around, and the behaviour of other visitors towards me. Anonymity was impossible, and asking for help was inevitable. This comical situation ultimately produced one of those "learning moments" that are supposed to be a hallmark of the internship experience...
Since then, I've settled into my cubicle and am free to run around the office, as per usual. I'm putting those organization/project management/research skills to use like crazy; and although my particular position is less connected to the actual art world of the museum then I'd prefer, it's clear to me that it'll be up to me to pursue those connections -- whether by attending art talks on Thursday nights (last night: Brian O'Doherty's talk on his portrait of Marcel Duchamp), by eavesdropping on the curatorial staff, or by volunteering my free time (Warholpolooza this weekend).
Upside of Washington DC: the chance to attend a museum educator's roundtable discussion of the Center for the Future of Museum's report on Thursday (held at the NM of the American Indian). What an amazing opportunity. I'm a total nerd.
Fresh from my hideous trip into the city, I began my jaunty walk to work -- a quick ten blocks -- wearing a nice little suit jacket and my vintage Italian heels. Starbucks in hand, I felt I was blending in well with the purposeful natives.
Until about one block past the White House. My right toe began to feel suddenly so... well, flayed. Terribly, roughly, inescapably stripped of its flesh by my darling leather shoes. Thinking myself prepared, I sat down and affixed a bandage (!) and began to limp down the street, only six blocks to go.
It turns out that the bandage was too floppy to help and in fact aggravated the right-foot-situation. This became evident when I was at least three blocks from my first day on the job, because the pressure of limping caused my LEFT foot to blow out -- same toe, opposite foot, same neon pink bald patch on my defenseless tiny toe.
I essentially met my new boss in the infirmary (conveniently located in my building's basement!), and her reaction to the situation confirmed that I'm in a good place. She re-scheduled my day so as to avoid walking (!) and arranged for me to take my first-day tour of the Portrait Gallery... in a wheelchair.
My first time in a wheelchair, mind you. Very humbling experience, particularly as this was also the first chance I had to meet my fellow interns. Yet again, people's true natures seem to come out in the most painful situations; I was pushed around by a very kind intern named Lee-Ann. Yey for Lee-Ann!
And yey for new experiences. Although it may sound cheesy, it was so insightful to take a tour in a wheelchair. I experienced my visit in a completely different way -- noting the signage, the height of the artworks, the difficulty or ease of getting around, and the behaviour of other visitors towards me. Anonymity was impossible, and asking for help was inevitable. This comical situation ultimately produced one of those "learning moments" that are supposed to be a hallmark of the internship experience...
Since then, I've settled into my cubicle and am free to run around the office, as per usual. I'm putting those organization/project management/research skills to use like crazy; and although my particular position is less connected to the actual art world of the museum then I'd prefer, it's clear to me that it'll be up to me to pursue those connections -- whether by attending art talks on Thursday nights (last night: Brian O'Doherty's talk on his portrait of Marcel Duchamp), by eavesdropping on the curatorial staff, or by volunteering my free time (Warholpolooza this weekend).
Upside of Washington DC: the chance to attend a museum educator's roundtable discussion of the Center for the Future of Museum's report on Thursday (held at the NM of the American Indian). What an amazing opportunity. I'm a total nerd.
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