It's Recess, Nothing's Really Happening In Congress, right? RIGHT??!?

Some of the hallways in the Longworth House Office Building are so quiet it's eerie. Your footsteps sound like thunder because everything around you seems to be made from marble. In the depths of the Capitol, the atmosphere changes. All the buildings and the Capitol itself are connected by underground tunnels, and once you reach the basement or subbasement, it definitely feels a little Chamber-of-Secrets-y.

The past two weeks of my life have been more hectic than I could have even imagined. It's a blur of metro tracks and computer screens, long hallways and a million phone calls. The sounds are echoing footsteps, the bustle of tourists, and millions upon millions of people screaming in my ear.

Working in Congress has at once restored some of my faith in democracy but also has destroyed large portions of my faith in humanity. See, we take every single call. We listen to what you say. Those phone calls are logged and are actually considered by your representatives. Really. Calling your Congressman is NOT an act of futility. What is an act of futility is being mean. My first goddamn day was the day of the budget vote. I understood the frustration and the anger people were feeling, but seriously, I have never heard such disgusting language and I am in COLLEGE.

I spend hours a day hearing vile and untrue things be said about my President and my Congressman. But I also spend hours a day getting calls with advice. With insight. With ideas. There are many callers who respectfully disagree with the government's actions, and their counterpoints often change my perspective. For every barrage of hatred there is a caller whose frustration empowers her to create instead of destroy. And, seriously, those calls keep me sane.

I recently completed my other internship for the summer, and I will be eternally grateful for that experience. My two, well, I guess they were my bosses, took me all over. They taught me a new language, introduced me to a whole political community, and showed me how day to day politics worked. I love a world where your pulse can rise and fall with the tempo of events, how your convictions and ideals can become your life's work, and how sometimes, you win. It's a marathon instead of a sprint, and you often get headaches, but sometimes you win. And that's good enough.

This summer isn't over just yet, but it has brought my hope for the future sharply into focus. It helped me prioritize what I want and what I need. It pretty much robbed me of any relaxation or social life, sure, but you find your happiness in the moments of rest. My hours on the metro's plastic seats have been spent with Fitzgerald, Plath, Hemingway, Steinbeck, Larsson, Franzen, Kerouac, Enger, and  others I'm totally too embarrassed to admit or can't even remember.

And I did get to reconnect with many of my friends. I went to high school with them, sure, but I can't totally label them that way. These ones are in it for the long haul, no matter how crazy our schedules get and how differently our paths twist and turn, and regardless of the country we happen to be in. Last week, as we got together to say goodbye to Claire for the semester, the only time our free time overlapped was 9:30pm on a Tuesday.

Welcome to adulthood.