In Transit

Let me preface this by saying that if you find the whole premise of blogging a bit self-involved, you'll find in the following post everything you don't like about the business. If you're just looking for a good read, you may also want to look elsewhere. If you are bored at work and have nothing better to do, though, this should be right up your alley.

Have you ever watched The West Wing? You know, captivating drama about the innards of the Presidency. I always wished I was on that show. And while this will likely never come close to happening, I have been granted in recent days a little summer daydream of, in fleeting moments, what it might be like.

For a few months, I have been loaned off to a City Council office. I began last Monday. My days are generally tame -- researching why resident X's water bill was so high last month or explaining to resident Y why she can't house a small colony of feral cats in her backyard. (Was that revealing that I specified resident Y as "her"? My misogyny knows no bounds.)

But in it's more glorious moments, as I've come to consider them, I get the occasional transcendent Hollywood moment. It might come trying to craft an honest, yet diplomatic response to a neighborhood issue (channeling my inner-Sam Seaborn, if you will), or responding to a reporter's request for quotes for an upcoming story (what would Josh Lyman do?). For a brief moment, it feels like the best story, some yet un-felt drama unfolding before my eyes and hands and voice. A story that doesn't stop at the page but instead has seeped into my body, enveloping me. The story | is mine. It is fun to have fun sometimes, and I am thankful for this current bit of it. Particularly as it makes for one more episode of summer fun.