Routine

The rest of the museums were a great escape from a hot and rainy day. The art displayed at The Fondo Del Sol Visual Arts Center spoke to the core or me; with so much Latin American expression, I felt tuned into to my Colombian heritage. A group of South American musicians were playing cumbia music in the front room, the kind of music I grew up listening to when my mother blasted it around the house. In D.C., a big city with such a distinct identity forged from patriotism mixed with strains of international consciousness, a Florida boy who hadn’t eaten a Cuban sandwich or black beans and yellow rice in weeks felt at home in a hot row house with a little cumbia band.

The Textile Museum had a vibrant atmosphere as kids created designs with different fabrics and materials. Musicians played outside, and plenty of stations had hands on demonstrations.

An impressive drape made by local children

At the Textile Museum from Joey Flechas on Vimeo.

Amanda learns how to spin string

Overall, a very pleasant Sunday afternoon.

Now, we’ve settled into a routine – a long commute each morning, where I can catch up on homework or sleep. Sleep tends to win that one. Each morning flies by in no time. By the time I’m hacking away at the day’s story (or stories), making phone calls and taking notes, I look up and we’re already at lunch time.
The afternoon, as expected, feels a little longer. I enjoy the internship, so I can’t say that I’m staring at the clock and itching for quitting time. No no, sometimes I wish there was more time to get more done. That’s newspaper life – simply not enough hours in a day. 

I’m very happy with life at the paper. I have a new intern buddy sitting next to me now, so we can share our daily observations (both of us being D.C. first-timers), discuss the news and what we’re working on and help each other out when we’re unsure. The staff reporters have been very sweet, too. They are always eager to help a youngling out, which ends up giving the office a real family atmosphere, like we’re in this together. It’s a pleasure to be there every day.

That’s all besides the clips I’ve been able to pick up so far. Getting published is always a thrill, but getting published in D.C., where hundreds of thousands of locals will read your byline and your story, is the biggest thrill yet.

After work, it’s a mad dash for Union Station to make the the Virginia Rail Express to Manassas, where dinner and a warm bed await. It’s hard to fit in the fun adventures during the week, so the weekends are ripe for the picking.

Next time, we go pickin’.