Oh, I Knew That

A self-proclaimed dumpster diver Jeremy Seifert claims that Americans throw away half their food each year:

 Every year in the United States, we throw away 96 billion pounds of food. That’s 263 million pounds a day, 11 million pounds an hour, 3,000 pounds per second!

This wastefulness coexists with a devastating recession and record numbers of Americans dependent on food stamps—one in eight of us, to be exact. Our propensity to waste has now reached beyond our means to do so, and yet we keep up the bad habit even while our neighbors go hungry.

And the 2011 Stanley Cup goes to… the Boston Bruins!

Congratulations to my adopted (and now beer-soaked) brothers and sisters of Beantown!

On this quest for enlightenment– though, oftentimes, it feels like a futile attempt– I’ve managed to discover a few digital lamp posts to guide my way.

For a long time, Tina Brown’s The Daily Beast was my current events go-to guide. With their aptly named section, Cheat Sheet, I got the “lowdown” on whatever is supposedly important to know around the globe.

Now, I turn to the more subtly named publication, The Week. Too poor to subscribe to the paper edition, I contend with the more succinct online version. Oftentimes, The Week not only aggregates news items from various sources, but opinions from the mainstream pubs and blogs.

Plus, it makes for lame wordplay: “To know more about what’s happening in the world, it’s best to turn to The Week.”

Breakfast talk.

Me (to Him): “So, what do you do?”

Her (answering for Him): “He’s a spy.”

We laugh jovially.

Me: “Oh really? I’m a CIA operative. No, really, what do you do?”

Him: “I work for the Pentagon.”

I laugh jovially. 

Me: “No, really.”

Him: “I work at the Pentagon.”

It stops being jovial.

Dinner talk.

Me: “What did you major in in college?”

Her: “Sharks.”

I laugh politely at this weirdo and her weirdo sense of humor.

Her: “Yes. I’m a marine biologist and a shark expert.”

Me: “Right.”

Her: “How about you?”

Me: “Communication.”

I struggle to remember if it’s “Communication” or “Communications.” 

“Everyone feels like they’re important. That they’re trying to save the world– and sometimes, I feel like they think that the answers are all in their Blackberries.”

Trying to describe my first week of internship– I can think of two words: pleasantries aside. Which leads me to think of five more words: let’s get down to business. Of course, these five words lead me to eight more words: cheesy line that nobody uses in real life.

And these eight words can lead me to follow a trail of non sequiturs that completely proves how I am obviously not from this office culture.

I come from professional environments that required the use of gender slurs as affectionate nicknames. Or the unloading of personal baggage on the conference room floor. Or the unsuspiciously long cigarette/coffee/clinic breaks. Or the blasting of illegally downloaded MP3’s of questionable taste. Or the parties to celebrate every imaginable occasion. Or the hugs. The kisses. The “heart-to-heart”.

And now I’m here. Where it’s time to get down to business.

If they’ll just give me a second, I will.

I’m 26 years old and I’m a complete idiot.

It’s something I’ve always been able to hide under carefully constructed layers of irony.

Last year, I entered grad school and just last week, became an intern at a D.C.-based communications firm. It’s becoming more difficult to hide who I really am and pretend to know what I’m doing.

I don’t know who the chancellor of Germany is. Nor how the menstrual cycle really works. Or who won (is going to win) the Stanley Cup. I don’t know when mating season is for apes. Or when Mad Men officially comes back on the air.

But someone out there does.

And maybe in the future, that someone will be me.

UPDATE:

The Chancellor of Germany is Angela Merkel.