To continue my explanation of why last Thursday was just frantic and absurd.

It was the day of the appropriations deadline. For those of you who are not impressed by the sound of this so-called deadline (as I would not have been before I worked here, it's not a very imposing-sounding event, is it?) I will explain. Basically, any requests for funding for programs for the coming year had to be in to the Appropriations Committee by 5 o'clock. Anything and everything each Congressperson wanted to advocate for had to be given to the correct subcommittee on Appropriations. Being a member of Appropriations must be a power trip, because everyone essentially has to beg you to get money for their favorite programs, but it must also be a curse. This is the part of being an Appropriations member I came to fully appreciate on Thursday.

All day long, intern after intern staggered into the office, eyes bloodshot, limping and haggard, thrusting a Dear Colleague letter at me for the Congresswoman's signature (Dear Colleage letter = a letter requesting funding for a program that members will sign on to if they support the program and want to speak up on its behalf). This is the United States Congress, and why finish these things ahead of time when you can suck down coffee at lightening speed while answering the phone with your foot and writing emails with your elbow on the very last day of this "Appropriations season" as my clever Legislative Director puts it? Details aside, I promise you I've never been so frazzled before.

Best moment of the day, however, occurred at exactly 5 minutes to 5 o'clock. This is the point at which The LD comes up to me grinning mischievously, as she tends do because she is one tough chick and therefore rules and everyone knows it.

"Run," she says.

"Excuse me?" I say, with a half-hearted attempt at innocence. I don't really want to know what she's talking about, though I sort of already do.

"Actually run. Not like 'don't dally because there's lots to do' but like 'oh damn the committee will lock the door in 5 minutes and a year's worth of funding will go down the drain if you're not there in time.' Like that. By the way, are you fast?"

At this point I'm already yanking the folder from her hand and giving her the dirty look she knows she's going to get in response to the devilish smirk I know I'm going to get.

I looked very silly running. Luckily, so did the other 200 people running through the hallways with the same envelopes. I made it there in record time, might I add. I even had enough time to return to the office, boast about my athletic prowess, and saunter into the hallway with the LD to chuckle at/help other lost interns doing the same thing.

Not exactly the kind of task that demonstrates piercing intellect, but no one will ever say I don't do my job well.

I've got a running list of things I'd like to write about...and I will try to get to them as quickly as possible, since they're long overdue. Let's start with last week's minor brush with celebrity gone awry, shall we?

This is the sad tale of how the stars aligned and I was momentarily blessed with incredible luck...which was then swiftly snatched back, as I should have expected it would be.

Last Thursday was literally the most ridiculously busy day I've ever experienced. I'll do a little snapshot of it in my next post. At any rate, I went to a briefing on International Family Planning at 10 am, which I thought was fascinating, predictably enough. As the question and answer period wound up, everyone in the room started to get distracted because the chattering and clamoring right outside the briefing room door was starting to intensify beyond normal levels. When we threw open the doors to head back to our offices, lo and behold, we were greeted with a whole brigade of press armed with cameras. I tried my best to look important so they would take a picture of me, but to no avail. I could tell they were waiting for something, and they knew what it was, and it wasn't me.

Now this is the point at which I should have stopped for 2.5 seconds and asked a random onlooker what everyone was waiting for. But no, I was stressed out because I knew how much work awaited me in my office, so I just scrambled downstairs and forgot the whole event. A half hour later, visitors came into the office and said they'd heard a rumor that Jessica Simpson was lobbying on the hill that morning. Immediately I dropped my forehead to the desk and asked what room she was going to be in, even as I knew the answer. This was cosmic joke on Meghan #1 of the day.

#2 came later, when I walked out to the Capitol steps with the Congresswoman and four college kids to take a photograph. We discovered that our way to the steps was blocked suddenly by a huge contingent of police officers. Now, the Congresswoman I work for happens to be walking sunshine, so a few kind words to the burly fellow guarding the entrance to the steps got us the promise of a couple minutes to take our picture. Press were swarming all over, and the steps were lined with bagpipe players in kilts standing at attention. Obviously something was happening, and the Congresswoman then broke in with, "Oh yes, now I remember, the President is here talking with the Prime Minister of Ireland. Let's see if we can't make this a more exciting day for all you, huh?" Now I'm thinking at this point that I'm in line for something cool given my failed brush with fame earlier that day, so I start getting excited. Never get excited, you'll invariably get screwed. We hear the bagpipers start playing, and shutters start snapping wildly, and as the secret service start heading down the steps into our view the gods - in the form of a squat, grumpy police woman - saw fit to take it all away. Aforementioned surly policewoman kicked us out literally seconds before Bush strolled down the steps. Does this not kill you? You weren't even there and I know you're groaning at the cruelty of it all.

Now, I am not one to chase after celebrities (or buy Jessica Simpson albums or fawn over Bush for that matter) but I am 21, I answer the phone when crazy people call, I scurry around fetching things not unlike a golden retriever, and I need some good stories as payment. I need to meet some famous people!

Universe 1, Meghan 0. Everything in its right place.

One quick perk to my current location -

Yesterday my roommate and I spent some quality time standing out in the freezing cold with one purpose: to see FREE movies! I've paid a terrifying amount of money to buy groceries in this city, to take the train to work, and to eat at a restaurant. And then the National Archives put on movies for free, and my roommate and I decided we would camp out in negative degree temperatures, forgo food and bathroom facilities, and give offerings to the gods of poor college students, but we were getting through that line and we were seeing something in this town for free. So there.

Luckily, we did eventually get inside, with 250 other people who made it in from among the 1000 stationed outside the building. And even luckier, the movies turned out to be totally worth it.

Specifically, the National Archives screened the short films and documentaries nominated for tonight's Academy Awards. This isn't stuff I would normally get to see, and it's too bad that most people won't ever see thse movies, because they were fantastic. We saw the five short live action films and one of the documentaries, Murderball. Murderball is about quadriplegic rugby, and if that sounds both crazy and awesome at the same time, it is soooo much better than you're imagining. Lobby Blockbuster to carry something good for once and maybe you'll get to see it.

Good day in D.C.

A few things that I feel about politics:

Because I work in the business of politics, I've come to view it as just that - a business. It is a giant dysfunctional gossipy corporation, and in that sense I don't often get the chance to think of politics from a philosophical perspective anymore. Occasionally my thoughts drift in that direction but then the phone rings and I quickly forget why I care about anything beyond filing.

However, there are times when I am reminded that political decisions are binding on the real world. The other day I was looking at the website for Americorps. Now I am largely incapable of making decisions, and if you ask me what I want to be when I grow up I'll only answer - uh, who's growing up? But one thing that I've been reasonably sure I wanted to do in the future is join Americorps' NCCC program. Probably none of you know what this is. It's a continuation of the Civilian Conservation Corps of the Roosevelt era which build much of the infrastruction of the national parks. NCCC is for 18-24 year olds, and places young people in teams of a dozen or so for 10 months. During this time they travel the country doing interesting service projects, and are trained in disaster relief (hence why many NCCC teams are currently building houses and such in Louisiana). I want to work outside, I want to make things I can see and wear blue jeans and a bandana to work. I like what I do now, but I'd love a change in the future. It's a good program. It's a good program for me, too.

Now onto the heartbreak. After finally coming to a decision about this, which is a cause for celebration in and of itself, I discovered that the program will no longer exist if the budget cuts for 2007 take effect. And they will. I have listened to angry constituents slam the budget cuts a thousand times. I feel their pain, as much as I can, but really what can I do? What can they do, but call the office and talk with an intern who is equally powerless? I am disturbed by the education cuts, which will put students more in debt, though I'm already in enough that I can't be that disturbed by it. Yet I did not feel what the sacrifice of cutting the budget would do to me until I found out that the one thing I decided I truly wanted to do is not long for this world. There is not a thing I can do about it. Maybe I'll call my congressman.