A Summer in Review

Two important things I learned:
    I'm not actually quite as stupid as I thought (though still considerably ignorant). Conversely, a lot of people aren't actually as smart as they think. Some are. But then, they're just arrogant.
   Things that are wrong are wrong. Things that sound right might be write, or rite, or wright instead.

Do I want to continue in the politics however? Ask me when it stops being all about politics.

On the bright side, listening to lobbyists can be entertaining. Sometimes, they even bring free food. However, if someone has their priorities in the wrong places, I'd rather tell them thanks and wave as they exit through the door than lie through my teeth. Civility should be possible among differing viewpoints without a plastered smile. Especially if one is just going to talk smack once the door closes anyways.

Although not incredibly intensive, reading constituent letters proved repeatedly enjoyable. Regularly, letters reminded me that  laws have a real impact. Oftentimes they showed me equally valid, opposing opinions. Occasionally (ok, ok, frequently) they made me laugh while I decided if I should shred or frame them.

Overall, participating in the firefighter's Fire Ops 101 proved the highlight (Pensions- sure! How about a raise? Trip to Hawaii? Free ice cream for life?). Perhaps it is time for a career-track change.

For future interns who might be shoved in the direction of this blog, I'd advise taking advantage of the wide variety of opportunities available, beyond just embarrassingly failing to start a chain saw and getting knocked back by the power of  a streaming fire hose. Take the legislative classes offered by the CAPITOL Institute. Attend hearings (interesting ones). Eat free ice cream at the occasional basement party. Investigate the intermittent mass of cardboard carrying, already-hoarse-but-still-chanting discontents. If I had to redo my summer, I know I might do more of that. I might also bring earplugs.

Any people anywhere, being inclined and having the power, have the right to rise up, and shake off the existing government, and form a new one that suits them better. This is a most valuable - a most sacred right - a right, which we hope and believe, is to liberate the world.
-Abraham Lincoln

Sometimes, however, it takes time. Sometimes, it takes leverage: money, masses, a sense of security, or notoriety. Sometimes, it isn't the government that is reformed, but the laws, and in that exists a difference. And sometimes, its tyranny of the majority.

Who, anyways, defines a people? If my fellow intern and I, cloistered in the tucked-away breakroom-turned-workstation-with-food come to an agreement determined from whispered conversations and a mutual disdain for answering the phone decide that maybe the whole process is an absurd equation whose solution is an irrational number (oh, wait...) can we "shake off" (like a wet dog, doused in a bucket of collected polluted gutter run-off), the existing government? Or is that not insubordinate, rebellious, and (a regular favorite) unpatriotic? On some occasions a liberator, on others a rebel, and on most a bother. If we extend our definition of "a people" to include the older, paid versions of ourselves, hunched over keyboard and sneaking peeks at the Olympics airing in the background, while also serving the good people of AD15, are we then more legitimate of a people? Eventually, we shove this convoluted mess under the bed and go with a majority-rules modus operendi. Because everyone is a someone and they make up different groups of somethings and you'd end up with an anarchy, which is only actually respecting the desires of the anarchists, even though any people, anywhere, has a right to form a new government to suit themselves.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is why we have a bill of rights. And the only reason this diatribe has any relation to my summer internship is that I have to deal with absurd constituent letters condemning "left-wing nut" politicians for disapproving of restorative therapy for homosexuals and supporting equal rights for marriage. After all, according to some in California, the people spoke with Prop 8, and their rights should be respected. Its a democracy. But majorities can be tyrannies, the former not precluding an ability to error nor mandating sanctity.

I should, however, add that minority opinions don't automatically come with any moral authority either. The rabble-rousing SEIU was responsible for a surge of aspirin consumption at the beginning of the month, but it garnered some sympathy for its fighting-the-good fight persona (and powerful lobbying sector), never mind that it had its own dirty laundry. I don't know that imperfection necessitates invalidity (Mary Hayashi certainly doesn't seem to think so) or even how accurate claims against the union are. I do know that the arrests of some of the protesters for disturbing the peace made me roll my eyes. We all "rise up" to "shake off" disatisfaction in different ways. Some, albeit, more appropriate than others. It is, according to Lincoln, a most sacred right of ours, after all. So when that same constituent calls for the umpteenth time to rail against this-or-that, I hold the receiver a few inches from my ear and attempt to listen patiently (or at least distinguish words from the rant), appreciative of the fact that our government acknowledges our freedom of speech on at least some level. It is that individual's right, and it comes before the government.

A more sacred "most sacred," to precede an government and to extend to every people, and every person. A bill of rights. Human rights. (Although, in the philosophy of ethics, cultural relativity exists as a notion that codes of morality are culturally defined. And who defines a culture, anyways)?

The government has to navigate all this, which is why its sometimes not surprising that they just choose to go with the sleek, new Porsche with a built-in 5-star GPS offered by the Automobile lobbyists (purely metaphorical, of course).

Here's a bit of Capitol history for inquiring minds- Governor Jerry Brown is 74. That makes him a contemporary of tootsie pops, the Great Depression, and dinosaurs. At the time he was sworn in for his first stint as Governor in 1974, he was the sixth youngest in California to assume that title. Apparently a masochist, he came back for more in 2011, becoming the oldest serving individual of Sacramento's highest office. So long as his politics aren't as dated as his birth certificate, however, its all just good ribbing. As tight as we are, I'm sure Jerry wouldn't mind my pal-ing around. In the worst case scenario, I'm pretty sure I could outrun his dog. Its got to be about 100 Corgi strides for every one of mine, though I'll watch my ankles just in case.

In order to find some not-so-politically-incorrect Sacramentan history (the proper demonym for the city, according to Wikipedia), I turned to the ever faithful Google (which ought to be put on the government's payrolls, considering its use as lazy man's---er, legislators---research assistant). Apparently Sacramento has an old underground, which was once above-ground, until the citizens of the Emerald City got tired of being the jetsom of the marine metropolis. As a result of devastating floods, California undertook what has become the state's only successful street-raising project, building reinforced brick walls and filling in the resulting walls with dirt from 1862 to the mid-70s. Its still possible to explore some of the underground in Old Sac, but I tend to get distracted buying taffy from the old time sweet shops nearby before making it there. There's enough cobwebs and mud in the politics of the Capitol building to pay $15 to see it in the dark.

Alphabet Soup

I've learned a lot by being in Sacramento these past weeks. Allow me to share the inside knowledge:

There is always a way to find free food. In fact, I think Buchanan's office should be added to the official list of local watering holes. Its certainly on the list of go-to spots for a daily dose of vitamin c for in-the-know staffers. Disclaimer: An apple a day keeps the doctor away, not the lobbyists. 

Sometimes when making calls, it is best not to mention which office you are from. Staffers are much nicer when they think they are speaking with a constituent

There is a puppy in Fiona Ma's office.

Things I have yet to fully grasp:

Why they vote "aye" but not "nay"

How the Senate can sit in session surrounded by red and pink walls and carpet without getting a head ache.

How the legislature can continue to start floor sessions with a prayer led by a priest.

How to navigate between the main building and the annex. 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/79945083@N03/7167423153/in/photostream

Above is a link depicting the perks of working in a political office. Lobbying done right. At least for this heel hating, I'll-go-get-you-a-coffee-so-I-can-get-out-from-this-desk intern. Its also a symbolic representation of my internship thus far. Like a Boy Scout, always prepared. [More so, apparently, than the Boy Scouts themselves (and a significant part of the legislature)].

Here's another photo. This is Assemblymember Tom Ammiano. It used to be that the televised Assembly sessions were so boring, Californians were unable to watch for more than five minutes before falling asleep. To address this barrier to the public's access to a transparent government (the only obstacle in the way of a truly open, accountable government, of course), the Assembly passed a bill instating Tom Ammiano as Chief Entertainer of the Assembly Floor. None of this, our course, is true except that Tom Ammiano IS the most interesting thing to happen dry diatribe on endless bills in California's history, excluding the occasional, uncivil, civil discourse. I can't say much about his politics, but I can say that he's a politician that I'd actually be interested in having coffee with.

Besides appreciating the more personable members of the legislature, I have also been consuming inordinate amounts of caffeine, spazzing out in few less-than-composed moments, spitting out a stream memos, and just generally settling in to life in a political office. Another day, another (92.1 billion) dollar(s) California!

Laur

Welcome, wayward readers, to my random-thoughts dumping ground. Or, not so random, since I'm required to follow certain prompts. But, hopefully, at least thoughtful. One out of two--I could almost pass a bill in the legislator.

First, the basics. I am currently interning for Assemblywoman Joan Buchanan, who represents the 15th assembly district of California. The position was set up as part of USF's McCarthy Fellows Summer in Sacramento. This summer is my first time spending significant time in Sacramento. Originally, I hail from Richland, WA-- one of those, middle of the nowhere towns surrounded by agriculture. Tumbleweeds et al. I've no family background in politics, and am an International Studies major with a minor in African Studies, so, all in all, obviously the ideal candidate for a position in state government. However, I am greatly interested in various social issues and see the politics of local government as a mico-view of international relations, hence my motivation to insert myself for three months into the whirlwind that is the Californian capitol's summer session. No Toto, I don't think we are in Kansas anymore.

Orientation kicked off May 21st and I swiftly felt that I had stepped onto an airport-style moving walkway. Various speakers, arranged by our orientation guides, lined up outside the rails, and I had just enough time to reach out for a handshake before the treading ground moved me along to the next important individual. Hopefully, Air Force One is at the end of the terminal, and I don't lose their business cards through the window. Certainly, the best part of the week was all the free meals, Capitol Airlines wasn't skimpy with the peanuts. But, in all seriousness, it was wonderful getting to listen to one speaker passionately present an argument on an issue, and wholeheartedly agree, before finding myself do a 180 when listening to the next, equally articulated, and utterly opposite, speaker present another.

Now that I am two weeks in, I've begun to form a better picture of what this summer might hold. As the Senate and Assembly are currently debating and voting on various bills, I am excited to see the end result of the process, and learn which make it into law. The sheer volume of bills, however, astounds me. No wonder the capitol isn't decorated with minimalist art.

Despite the excitement, I'm nervous about not living up to expectations. I worry that my office may ask me to do something that I am totally unprepared for- although this fear is tempered by how welcoming and helpful the staff has greeted me thus far. Certainly, whatever happens will be an adventure. Sacramento is certainly a hub of activity, now especially. I look forward to seeing what will come next.