Wednesday, December 6, 2006

The Economics of Altruism

It's been a while since I chronicled my life as a Fed, and I hope my loyal readers--all four of you--have not been in want of a glimpse of the fabulous life. Of course, if you are also a Fed, this one will probably ring a little more true for you. Do the letters CFC mean anything to you? To my private sector pals, CFC, or Combined Federal Campaign, is essentially the government's version of United Way. About a month or so ago--although it feels like much, much longer--I started hearing those three letters ripple across the sea of cubes. Since then, they have become so ubiquitous I barely notice as I trip over silent auction items lining the halls of our building.

It has gotten so bad I've begun to contemplate the loss in federal government productivity resulting from the organization of countless CFC-related events occurring in my agency alone. After all, someone has to plan and run the waffle-and-fried-chicken breakfast (I couldn't make that up). Today, I told an older colleague that I thought we should quantify this loss in productivity, assign a dollar amount to it, and just have the agency cut a check next year. I mean I'm no freakonomist, but it seems pretty simple to me.

I'm reminded of a Slate podcast I listened to recently about the economics of charity. Here's the gist: Johns Hopkins recently published a report about the fundamental self-interest involved even in charitable giving. The study concluded that, as a global society, we are more interested in FEELING good than DOING good. That is why people volunteer much more often than they donate money. An excerpt:

"A Dutch banker can pay for a lot of soup-kitchen chefs and servers with a couple of hours' worth of his salary, but that wouldn't provide the same feel-good buzz as ladling out stew himself, would it? Even the way we choose to dole out cash betrays our true motives. Someone with $100 to give away and a world full of worthy causes should choose the worthiest and write the check. We don't. Instead, we give $5 for a LiveStrong bracelet, pledge $25 to Save the Children, another $25 to AIDS research, and so on. But $25 is not going to find a cure for AIDS. Either it's the best cause and deserves the entire $100, or it's not and some other cause does."

After hearing my suggestion for next year's CFC, my older colleague responded, "Ah, it's refreshing to see such cynicism in someone so young." Fair enough, I thought, but I still think that an agency check offers a lot more fundraising potential than hocking used paperbacks for a buck. Perhaps cynicism is the new altruism...

Monday, November 6, 2006

Straight Men are the New Dinosaurs

This morning my best gay friend (BGF) and I attended church at St. Thomas Episcopal, which was celebrating All Saint's Day with a guest speaker: Bishop Gene Robinson, the first openly gay bishop ordained in the Anglican church. My BGF really wanted to go, and since we take turns picking churches, I acquiesced. (Coincidentally, "Gene Robinson" was a trivia answer at Wonderland last Monday--I figured I'd see what all the fuss was about). It turned out to be a beautiful service--one of our best so far, despite my BGF botching communion--but I couldn't help but notice that I was alone in a congregation of beautiful, hipster gay men. So much for meeting a guy at church.

This wasn't the first time I was invisible this weekend. On Friday, my BGF learned he'd passed the Maryland State Bar, so we celebrated properly by going to the new, hot gay bar in Shaw. Now, even though I relinquish all opportunities of being hit on, it's not so bad going to gay bars with my BGF. He is like the Homecoming King: men compete to hold court by lavishing attention on him and buying him drinks. As his No. 1 sidekick, I manage to at least get a free drink or two out of it. Nonetheless, I was stumbling home alone at 1 a.m. while he was closing down the bar with a hot bartender. So much for meeting a guy at a bar.

And then back to today. Following our Sunday morning ritual of church and breakfast burritos from Dupont Market, we began our Sunday afternoon ritual of shopping in Georgetown and checking on our fantasy home (currently under construction at 35th & Prospect). While bouncing between the Lucky Store, Urban Outfitters and every other merchant on M Street, my BGF laid claim to every hot guy we saw (meaning: his team versus my team). Unfortunately, he was right. So much for meeting a guy at Kiehl's. Er...wait a sec.

I recently heard a mycologist (The Mushroom Man!) speak of the sixth cycle of extinction on Earth. Apparently Earth is currently losing species at a rate that threatens to rival the five great mass extinctions of the geological past. In fact, a Harvard biologist has estimated that Earth is currently losing 30,000 species per year. Could the straight man be one of them???

Monday, October 9, 2006

I think I've met my dream man...

I'll just run through some basic stats:

1. He's hot
2. He's a lawyer
3. He's a lawyer who wants to wait until AFTER he has a BMW and a townhouse in Georgetown to do all that public interest stuff. ;)
4. He's got great taste in music (first "date" was at the Virgin Music Fest)
5. He goes to church with me (actually, I go to church with him)
6. He's a Buckeye fan and fellow Ohioan
7. His last name is Roberts (Julia Roberts anyone?? C'mon--you would've thought of it too!)
8. He loves the outdoors (just bought matching Camelbaks for a hike in Shenandoah next weekend)
9. He works out
10. He's a good kisser
11. He likes to shop (we spent 20 minutes in Kiehl's yesterday where HE encouraged ME to buy the Abyssine eye cream)
12. He's ambitious and involved
13. He's wicked funny

Picture all of this with hand-holding and strolling and a sunny, crisp fall day in Georgetown as the backdrop.

So I ask...does it really matter that he's gay????? :)

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Waiting for John Mayer to Change

I used to like John Mayer. I used to like him a lot. I used to brag about how my college roommate paid him $1000 to play at a campus event in 1999, and within five years I convinced the Art Ed Department at Ohio State to include him on the list of up and coming artists in an undergraduate pop culture class I taught while in grad school (Ashley Martin, if you are out there, this is dedicated to you. I should have listened).

Regretfully, after a promising first album and validating second, Mr. Mayer has resorted to an anthem of the whiny, helpless generation raised in play dates and minivans that (probably) has Marvin Gaye rolling in his grave. My suggestion? Johnny needs to get his ass to Washington.

If there is anyplace in the world where people AREN'T waiting on the world to change, it's here. This week I have been rubbing elbows (while pinching myself) with a lot of people who are inspired to make a difference in peoples lives. It started Tuesday night when I was in an intimate audience that heard from the Chairman of the Louisiana Recovery Authority and the editor of the Pulitzer Prize-wining New Orleans Times-Picayune. These are two people who, despite losing all of their own possessions, have stayed the course and are effecting change in the gulf coast.

Today, I sat amongst academics, policy leaders and businesses from around the nation who convened to discuss the systemic housing affordability crisis in this nation and its racially infused origins. The founder and CEO of Self Help (an advocacy organization that fights predatory lendors preying on minority homebuyers) started his now-national organization with a $77 bake sale. He didn't wait for the world to change. He sold brownies.

I ended the 48-hour inspiration fest tonight at a local real estate developer's office where I sat around with a bunch of young, urban visionaries drinking wine and discussing local economic development in DC. How can we celebrate the positive effects of gentrification while pushing back against the negatives?

All in all, not a bad 48 hours in Washington.

So in conclusion, I'm calling for John Mayer to write a new song that borrows from a bumper sticker my friend bought a couple weeks ago at Adams Morgan Day. It read: Stop bitching and start a revolution. Unless of course he's too busy trying to score Jessica Simpson...

Saturday, August 19, 2006

So Long Suburbia!

Foreward: This blog is dedicated to the most gracious and generous Suburbanites I know: my Aunt Denise and Uncle Tom, without whom I would've been homeless for the last six weeks.

Last week, against all odds, I conquered the mind-numbing, all consuming process of D.C. apartment hunting. (Yes, you may pause here for libations and cheers). Getting this apartment--this fabulous apartment!--marks my official completion of the D.C. rite of passage known as "finding a random person to live with on Craig's List" and the unofficial beginning of my new life in D.C.

It's funny, though...as I have been desperately endeavoring to escape my Suburban purgatory, my city friends have been flocking toward it. Tasty luxuries like real houses with backyards, cars, big box retail outlets and community swimming pools have proved quite alluring to my city-bound friends. One friend who joined me at the pool last month had a flashback to childhood when she heard the lifeguards' whistles blow every hour on the hour ("Break!") and thought she was hallucinating when the jingle of the ice cream truck approached from the distance. Relax, I assured her, this is par for the course in Suburbia. I'm pretty sure they even pay the cute kids in baby-Crocs (and the young, lithe housewives who accompany them) to splash around and exude their idyllic lifestyles.

Despite leaving all this behind, including what my buddy referred to as "a house from Decorators Showcase," I am jumping out of my skin to ditch my car, shop at sub-par city grocery stores, and eat cheap falafels a block from my perfectly located new home. Don't get me wrong, though, I'll be back next summer when the pool opens...

Sunday, July 30, 2006

T.G.I.F.

You know you're a government employee when, on Fridays, you send emails to your friends with "T.G.I.F." in the subject line. Does anyone in the real world say anything so lame? Having just completed my third Friday working for the Feds, I have to say I have come to anticipate with great amusement the odd behavior of my fellow co-workers on that sacred day that precedes the weekend. Unfailingly, every ride up the elevator to the ninth floor includes a "T.G.I.F." sentiment to break the awkward silence, just as it accompanies every obligatory greeting from those I pass en route to my cube. I am convinced that perhaps the government's most enduring contribution to society is the invention of "T.G.I.F." Where else would the checking off of another week be so monumental that a catchy acronym would be needed to express the event? (Note: if anyone can come up with an alternative origin of T.G.I.F. please let me know).

Another funny thing about Fridays is that the already sub-standard dress code is relegated to "casual". On my first Friday, I went to work in a sleeveless, black, jersey knit dress, pointy-toe sling backs and chunky turquoise beads thinking I was every bit the "heading to Dewey Beach after work" casual that would be expected of me. However, a woman dressed in head-to-toe bedazzled denim who saw me was quick to suggest otherwise: "Girrrrrrrrrrl, didn't nobody tell you it's casual Friday???" The high pitched voice, the purple beads, and the way she said "casual" in two syllables took me enough off guard to simply shake my head and keep walking.

But the absolute best best BEST thing about working for the government on Fridays, is that next week, I don't have to work at all. I'm officially starting my "compressed" work schedule, which rewards government employees for working what likely amounts to less hours per week than our private sector counterparts (9 hours a day) by giving us every other Friday off. Now that is something worth a T.G.I.F.

Monday, July 24, 2006

The (Un)fabulous Life of a Federal Government Employee

During my first week as a cog in the federal government wheel, I was told that summer interns are being asked to sign contracts saying they will not blog about their work experiences. While I am not an intern, I can assure you that after 2 weeks as a federal government employee, I understand completely why such a pledge is warranted. Stay tuned for stories...

Sunday, July 9, 2006

I just wasn't that into you....

So the first funny story I've got from DC involves my bold plunge into the world of Craig's List. I say bold because when I told my mom I was using the site to shop for a roommate, she said, "Oh honey, make sure you request background checks." Suffice it to say, the Craig's List people market is not quite as popular back in Ohio. Nonetheless, emboldened by DC friends who say it's "the way to go", I took the plunge, and this past weekend I met the first two candidates with whom I'd been corresponding.

The funny (and confusing) part was that they were both named John, and while one's full name was John Johnson, the other one went by "JJ". To boot, I was supposed to meet one for lunch at 11:30 and the other for coffee at 1 p.m. at locales within blocks of one another. I felt a bit like Charlotte in that SATC espisode where she double-books. (And let's face it, interviewing potential roommates you've met online smacks of blind dating. There is simply no way to know if you will be awkwardly enduring a meal's worth of forced conversation or totally hitting it off.)

So I spent lunch asking John #1 about biking through Vermont (a story he'd recounted over email) only to get a blank stare in return. (Damn! That was John #2!). Luckily, John #1 was super nice and so unbelievably accommodating that I think I could've convinced him to move into a tree house with me. After an hour (we met for lunch--a mistake I won't repeat) I knew he wasn't going to be my roommate but had no idea how to tell him. So I let him down easy with a "let's just see how it turns out" approach.

By the time I met up with John #2 I felt more empowered. (I'm told by a friend in Manhattan who recently went through this process that it gets easier to make the break the more interviews you go on. Is this like becoming bitter??) Within milliseconds of being greeted by a 6'3" emaciated man carrying the daintiest espresso cup I've ever seen, I knew that it wouldn't work, the same way you just know when you're not going to hit it off on a blind date. (I'm telling you, the similarities are creepy...) Luckily, John #2 gave me an out by saying he wants to stay in Northern Virginia. I told him I was adamant about living in the District and followed it up with a firm, "I think we're going to part ways now, but good luck to you." My second interview was done in 10 minutes flat.

My experience with John #2 reminded me of another great SATC episode...the one that turned into that must-have book for single gals, "He's just not that into you." When I read it after a pretty devastating break up, I felt so empowered that I was dating someone new a month later (only to find out that he just wasn't that into me either, but that's beside the point!). Here I was with John #1 feeling like I didn't want to be the bad guy when it wasn't personal--I just wasn't that into him (co-habitationally speaking). And yet I hemmed and hawed to let him down easy--something most dudes do in the dating world that drives us gals NUTS. (Seriously, tell us you think we're fat or you can't stand the way we sing along to the radio, but don't be a pansy and make excuses or, worse, just fall off the face of the earth.)

So with this blog I offer a cyber-apology to John #1 and a vow to be a straight shooter in this quest for a non-serial killer roommate (or as my friend Josh said, "You mean a non-sniper roommate--we have snipers in DC, not serial killers"). Currently taking applications...

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

It's a Mac Thing...You Wouldn't Understand

The events unfolded like this:

With my morning coffee in hand, I was preparing to leave for the day, but first stopped to update my iPod with the latest Slate Magazine podcasts. I plugged it in only to hear a frightening whirrrr of my iPod's hard drive and then see that scary Apple screen where you know it's re-setting or whatever. I was alarmed, yes, but nothing prepared me for what happened next. My iPod got a "dead face" screen!!!! Seriously, there were X's for the eyes and a frown. I panicked, but like all good moms, I only allowed myself a moment before focusing on its recovery. With adrenaline racing, I grabbed it, left the coffee, and pealed out of my apt complex toward the Apple store.

Like a mother with a wounded child, I busted through the double doors with wild eyes and my iPod in my outstretched hands (this was all in slo-mo, of course). The nice Apple people pointed me toward the Genius Bar where the news I'd feared worst came true: my iPod was dead. I stood there, blank, eyes blinking attempting to absorb the shock of it all (soundtrack in my head: "The Scientist" by Coldplay). My "genius" explained that my only real option was to get a new one. A new one???? I was incredulous. Desperate. But this one was like my child! Sure, in the year and a half since I'd purchased it, the Mac wizards had devised newer, flashier and more colorful versions, but mine had been with me to Japan, for goodness sake!

In the end (after breathing through a paper bag repeatedly), I was convinced to participate in the iPod recycling program. The sweet Apple boy at the store attempted to reassure me by explaining that my old iPod would be melted into new iPods and, therefore, would live on. A reincarnation of sorts. I smiled, meekly, and accepted my new, sleek, color-screened iPod with more than a little ambivalence. Now, I can't help but stare at the impostor (still in its box) and think how much my old one would've loved the DC metro rides... Sniff, sniff.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

The Washingtonienne

Today I found myself poolside with a trite novel about a twenty-something's scandalous adventures in Washington, DC. After recently learning of my upcoming move to the capital city, a friend recommended it. So far, this book has not required any intellectual acuity or exercising of the mind. It is as indulgent and utterly shallow as its candy-colored cover suggests it should be. I love it.

It dawned on me, while reading, that this is the first time I've picked up a non-school book since last summer. With my thesis now officially behind me and commencement only two weeks away, I've finally had some mental real estate available to consider the new adventures that lay ahead for me. While they do bring with them some sadness--my roots in Columbus run deep--they also promise to exceed my expectations. DC is gonna rock and I can't wait. I might even write a pink paperback of my own... :)

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Messianic Complex

So I've been browsing through my extended MySpace network this afternoon (I'm getting pretty desperate for homework distractions) and I've noted that many of my friends (and friends of theirs) list God and/or Jesus among their heroes or people they'd like to meet. I've got Bono. Yep, I've got the man whom Bruce Springsteen declared as having "the most naked messianic complex in all of rock & roll" when he spoke at U2's Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony last year. So what does this say about me? Believe it or not, it says a lot about my own faith.

Consider the following remarks made by Bono when he spoke at the National Prayer Breakfast in D.C. earlier this month:

"Seeing what religious people, in the name of God, did to my native land, and in this country, seeing God's second-hand car salesmen on the cable TV channels, offering indulgences for cash....I must confess, I changed the channel. I wanted my MTV. Even though I was a believer. Perhaps because I was a believer. I was cynical not about God, but about God's politics."

He then went on to talk about the practice of tithing that occurs in America's churches and how impressed he is that people so freely give 10 percent of their earnings toward God's causes. In this new "family values" -oriented government, where Christian leaders and political leaders are increasingly the same people, Bono challenged our government about tithing. The Bible is quite clear on how Christians should embrace the disadvantaged and disenfranchised members of the world population, yet the political leaders in the most economically abundant country on earth give less than 1 percent of their earnings to aiding poverty in less fortunate countries.

Regardless of what we feel our government is responsible for in terms of foreign aid, and regardless of what anyone thinks about separation of church & state, the fact of the matter is, neo-conservatives seem to be picking and choosing where religion and politics should intersect. Bono, with his piercingly sincere yet rough-around-the-edges approach, is bending the ears of global leaders and daring to challenge them on these important issues. I think it's exactly what Jesus would do---maybe he'd even be one of Jesus' heroes (dodging lightening bolt here). So I say rock on...and sign the One Campaign pledge!

Tuesday, April 4, 2006

Hey Katie, don't let the door hit you on the way out!

So the world is riveted on the announced departure of Katie Couric from the Today Show, and since I routinely lament her (lack of) contributions to journalism I figured I had to weigh in. While 49-percent of people are sad about it (according to one poll), I for one could not be happier. Granted, I highly doubt Meredith Viera will inspire as many pre-9am expletives from me (it's good to get your heart rate going as early as possible), but anyone who can conduct an interview without acting like a giddy teenager will be preferable to the woman who has spent the past 15 years flirting her way to the top.

A comment by Susan Sarandon on Couric's departure struck me in particular: "It will be great when it's not such a big deal when a woman gets a good job." I'd like to add to that, "It will be even better when women like Katie Couric quit perpetuating the myth that women must behave like bimbos to get those jobs." So I say good-bye to the days of the interviews in which Katie answers her own questions for the joy of hearing herself giggle and good riddance to the unabashed gushing over male celebrities. After all, it's the Today Show, not TRL!!