My place.

I've finished 13 weeks of my internship, with only 3 more to go. On the whole it's been lovely. I work hard and learn lots.

However, my on-the-job-coolness varies daily. Some days I ride in taxis through downtown DC saying things like "the corner of Independence and 17th please," while sitting nonchalantly in the back seat, legs crossed in 3" heels, leather binder portfolio in my lap, preparing to give articulate and somewhat well-informed opinions on the state of spending plans, and the latest GAO report.

However, there are many more days when I spill easy-mac on my dress, or forget ALL acronyms and what they mean, or am told that my office legacy lies mainly in my insistence on comma consistency. Those are the days I remember my place.