Thoughts ... Or Lack Thereof.

I need to write a column, and I don't know what to say.

Rather, I know just what I want to say -- I just don't know how. I find it to be frustrating (this writer's block, that is).

I mean, I'm sure sleep is a good helper, because a tired brain just hurts my head. But then there's the overactive brain -- this happens when Andrew has had far too much coffee for his own good. The results are often tragic.

So now I've turned to blogging to give my brain a break. Only, now I don't know what to type. And I'm rambling.

So what are some good cures for writer's block? I'd love to hear from you!

Until then, I'll just keep typing away...

The End of Intermission -- Friendships

Well, folks, I'm back (if you can call it that).

I guess I can start by apologizing for not blogging for more than a month now. It's been a crazy semester at school so far! It's my senior year, I'm taking 13 credits (not many, yes, I know!), and I'm the editor of my university's student-run weekly newspaper.

Needless to say, I'm rather busy. But so are you--my readers and friends with whom I want to keep contact.

So here I go. This is the post that has been fermenting in my mind for quite some time:

Friends.

They come, and they go. They make us smile; they make us cry. They make us who we are.

But who are they?

So often in life I've run into the "problem" of wondering who my best friend is. I think--or at least thought--I know who it is, but then, when the scene changes (usually ever-so-slightly), it seems that roles shift--and so does the title of "best friend."

In candid conversation, I'd go to say something like, "Oh, you're my best friend, man!" Or something like that, only to be struck with a pang of stinging guilt as I think about the person who used to hold that titled--and the fact that they've done nothing to lose it.

I've been haunted by this problem on many occasions, only to justify it in my head somehow or manage to forget about it until our next awkward confrontation--confrontation between this problem and myself, that is.

It was a long time ago that I came to the realization that each person can--actually, probably should--have more than just one best friend. Sure it's likely that each person will have one other that they can specifically go to for anything. But in general, most people are prone to spend time with many, rather than just one.

And just recently, I suppose my understanding of this concept has matured, if you will. Not only can someone have more than one best friend, but those best friends don't enter your life only to enter a subliminal competition for your affections. Each friend--whether they be a casual friend, a best friend, or even something more--is there for a specific purpose, and that purpose cannot be met by anyone else. That's what makes friendship special--so crucial and special; something worth fighting for.

I guess this problem came up (in my mind) over this past summer. Because I had it all before this summer. I had my best friends from high school--those people who were able to overcome its awkwardness, its pettiness, all of those things high school is known for. We fought, and sometimes it was brutal, but we came through only to be even better friends. Best friends.

Then there are my college friends. I love them dearly as well. We struggle with classes together; we've grown into adulthood together. It's something that can't be replaced. They're my best friends too.

Then come my fellow newspaper staff members. And this is where my point that friendships come in varying degrees and forms becomes most true. These people can't be put into words, because over the past three years, they've become my family away from my family. They've found a special place in my heart. And I say that because it's the absolute truth. I didn't decide they were this way. They earned it. We work together. We strive and labor and toil. We see failure and success. We struggle and succeed. We're one and yet so many. And it's something I wouldn't give up for the world. I love them.

And then TFAS came into my life. And everything I thought I needed in my previously happy life, almost didn't seem so essential anymore. I don't say that to actually imply that my old friends or family aren't important, it's just one of those things. The friends I made became another set of best friend, another family in addition to those I already have. I miss them, but I can't wait to see them again, because I know I will. We're all journalists, and we're all interested in politics. That's a dangerous combination.

In summation, I'd have to say that I'm blessed to have the friends I do. I know it's not a competition and that I don't need to worry if one means more to me that another because ultimately, that's not what friendship is about. The fact is this: they all mean differently to me. I know that sounds odd, maybe awkward, but it's the best way I can put it into English.

Each of my friends makes me who I am--and keeps me that way or changes me for the better. That's what a true friend does. And while sometimes it may be hard wondering which is my best friend, I don't think it's something I need to worry about anymore, because, like I said, it's not a competition.

And in the end, it's (having too many best friends) a problem I prefer to have any day.

Moving Forward

How could something come and go so quickly?

It seems like only yesterday that I was seeing Washington, D.C. for the first time. I met my program directors; I met my apartment mates. I met my fellow interns and classmates—some of the most amazing people in the world, I’ve come to find.

Now eight weeks have passed. We’ve all been changed; we’ve all grown—not only individually but also together. It seems like this has happened only so we could be torn apart. At times it’s miserable.

But when you look more closely at the situation—when you lift from your eyes the veil that emotions and living only for the moment cast—a greater good becomes clear.

So many of us have claimed to have met some of the most incredible people—now friends—this summer, making it a disappointment to leave.

I’ve been tempted to think now that I’m leaving all of this, what was the point?

But think: if we hadn’t have come, we would never have known each other in the first place; if we never left, we wouldn’t have the opportunity to move on to grander times, paramount accomplishments, which I know if anyone in this world will accomplish, it’s the graduates from this program.

Sure leaving is hard—it hurts. But it’s no tragedy.

Now I have so much more to look forward to when I return to Washington. Now I know I want to come back to Washington—something I had never considered previously. Now I can go on, armed with all of the skills and knowledge I’ve gained from this program, to serve in ways previously impossible for me.

My fellow interns, I love you like my family, and I look forward to seeing you all again—because if I never did, that would be the tragedy.