If it’s not obvious yet, I’m absolutely thrilled to be here. But when the adrenaline wears off, the situation I’m in is an incredibly unforgiving one.
My family’s two thousand miles away. I just worked a 13-hour day my fourth day on the job after three hours of sleep the night before. My first project had to have more done on it by other people than it did by me, because I’m just not good enough (yet). I haven’t eaten a real meal in days; I just ate a lukewarm sandwich from CVS (the only open place I could find) and am hoping I don’t get food poisoning from it. I got to DC in time for a record-breaking heat wave. I’ve lost a good friend. I got lost in the rain on my way home tonight, I missed my train by seconds because I’d lost my ID/metro card, and the next train was delayed.
I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m mentally and emotionally worn out, yet all I want to do is stand on the steps of the Lincoln and yell, “I’M IN FUCKING WASHINGTON DC, BITCHES!”