The other day I met a winsome stranger on the train. I was reading some borrowed Sontag and she wanted to know if I was reading it for class. I said no, no I am just a loser who enjoys feeling guilty about all the things Susan Sontag says I should be feeling guilty about. So we talked for five or ten minutes about war photography and authors who make wildly unsubstantiated claims but are still charming, and then went our separate ways at the Davis stop and I consigned this story to the well of "stuff that happened to me during my university days." Other things in that category include almost getting elbowed in the face by Michelle Obama and sobbing in a sandwich shop full of suits over a Joan Didion memoir. GROSS.
Why, you must have an internship!
The majority of my week thus far has been spent wading through the tax code, or more accurately, other people's interpretations of the tax code. GOOD THINGS TO KNOW: I am not smart or patient enough to be a lawyer. I've been set the task of achieving some sort of understanding of the regulations on how much "lobbying" a 501c(3) nonprofit can do without endangering its tax exempt status. I sort of volunteered for this gig, mostly because I get the feeling everyone in the office was secretly concerned about this but too busy and avoidant to check it out.* I've got a grasp on the law and its loopholes now, but I am getting lost in the murky ethical ground of Why anyone has the right to tell you how to communicate with your elected officials, especially if you are working in the public interest. Maybe if civic involvement were less terrifying, more people would engage.** Especially because there is a separate, lower cap on how much grassroots campaigning a group can do -- one is permitted to spend three times as much talking to congress than talking to the public. This whole thing leads me to what must be the tough part of practicing law: leaving your own Big Fat Opinions at the door. Or perhaps being good enough at manipulating the system to make your Big Fat Opinions arguable policy.
On the topic of the office, I'm really starting to settle in there. With the exception of one truly horrendous project which largely consisted of replacing ampersands with the word "and" in a 10,000 member database, I am reading and helping with things that are interesting, and more importantly, I am observing the bizarre and fascinating world of office politics. Any sort of small community on the scale of an office intrigues me, because quarters are close and everyone MUST work together to achieve goals, and in the case of nonprofits, save the world. Even when there are monumental personality clashes. Memoirs and memoirs to come, I'm sure.
Why, you must have emotionally stunted friends!
I want to put out a public service announcement about dating. Namely: experts name the mourning period for a relationship as equal to between half and the entirety of the duration of that relationship. Experts tend to be right. I wish there was a way to wrench people outside their bodies for short periods and force them to watch the silly and destructive decisions they make from across the street. The Ghost Busters probably have some sort of patented technology on the way, but until then, I will continue screaming
* In no way am I passing judgment on this sort of avoidance; it is why I never go to the doctor and have a hard time cleaning out the fridge. But when breech of tax code is in question, it's probably better to roll one's sleeves up, and it's not like I don't have the time.
**Tangential thing that worries me about the Obama campaign: the rhetoric that without big donors, lobbyist or special interest support, BO will be accountable to the regular folks making small contributions when he ends up in the White House. Seems to me, then nobody's got enough sway with the man to hold him to anything. I mean, a conscience could do the trick, but I'm still reserving judgment on THAT whole kettle of fish.
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