My past 10 or so summers have been dominated by a standard cocktail of summer school, retail jobs and general laziness and lethargy. Perhaps it was newfound inspiration, ambition or maturity (doubtful) that led me to make this summer different from the others. I had the privilege this summer of interning in Washington, D.C., through the Academic Internship Program (which I highly recommend checking out ‹ it’s in the Lit. Building in Earl Warren College).

I tend to scan all my UCSD spam and Guardian ads for opportunities, and had found this particular program to be very compatible with my interests. After spending a fair amount of time during winter and spring quarters exhaustively searching through materials and applying for various internships, from think-tanks to government offices, I hopped onboard the first organization that accepted me and was shipped off to the east coast to begin my inaugural summer-unlike-any-other adventure.

I spent ten weeks drafting correspondence to congressmen, compiling reports and doing racial-relations research. As I write this on a pleasant November day, I realize it has taken me a couple of months to uncover and digest lessons learned that relate to everything from life at UCSD to the pink fantasy world that is Elle Woods’ legalistic blonde Capitol escapade. And here they areŠ

Lesson No. 1: Enjoy the California weather. Trust me on this one.

Lesson No. 2: Government waste is epidemic. For example, one of my jobs as a conciliation intern at the U.S Department of Justice, Community Relations Service Division, which dealt with mediation of racial conflicts, was to print out daily bulletins for the director. These bulletins were 400 pages each, and I printed maybe two or three each day. Most of them probably ended up in the trash, and our office didn’t recycle. I once tried to say something about it, but was warned not to make a ruckus about it. Were they going to send some G-men to quiet me down? Also, government waste conjoins with office gossip. This, of course, is prevalent in any office, but it was made quite clear through the talk that a lot of the employees didn’t do their work or gave it to the interns to do (all three of us). Some of them took two-hour-long “”walks.”” I discovered they could do this because it is almost impossible to fire non-management government employees; it takes many years for a complaint to get through the bureaucracy.

Lesson No. 3: Public figures are an odd bunch. I saw Attorney General John Ashcroft, whom I’m sure all ultra-liberal college students adore, on more than one occasion. He gave a lecture to the Justice Department interns, and held an Independence Day celebration complete with free Ben and Jerry’s (tax dollars finally at work!) and an awards ceremony. His speeches weren’t too inspiring ‹ almost every single one exclusively referenced Sept. 2001 (you’d think two years after the fact he’d tout something else) ‹ and he seemed like a smiling plastic doll when hordes of starstruck interns pushed and shoved to get a picture with him. I also saw some senators, all of whose speeches were alien, too calculated, too indicative of years of political honing. Also, every public figure is trailed by an entourage of security detail, and it seemed to me a curious spectacle when officials that aren’t even that prominent need more care than most exotic animals require.

Lesson No. 4: The world consists of more than just 20-year-olds. Working in an environment where the median age was 45 or so, I learned how differently I had to act when around people twice my age. I got used to, and admittedly slightly annoyed with, daily “”How do you do’s,”” which were to be returned with the obligatory “”Fine, thanks.”” However, I learned that this was just a part of how office (and older?) life is. I remember more than once I carelessly employed a sarcastic remark typical of my repartee with UCSD friends and was met with puzzlement and even slight offense. One of my fellow interns was relentlessly determined, if not ruthless, and her youthful ambition was a marked contrast to the regular employees’ seasoned demeanor and mundane acceptance of their 15-year job tenure. On a more pleasant note, at the YMCA, I befriended a 72-year-old Ethiopian lawyer who went there to work out every night. It was an eye-opener to talk to someone with that much experience and life under his belt.

Lesson No. 5: Washington D.C. is nothing and everything like “”Legally Blonde 2’s”” glossy portrait of it. The Capitol is a glamorous, marbled place, and I was envious of the interns who worked there. I also realized, however, that the government is 90 percent run by security officers, administrative assistants, section supervisors and night janitors, and 10 percent by high-level officials, Congressmen and big shots. The tree-lined avenues, elegant monuments, countless museums, fireworks on the Fourth all compose a truthful albeit partial picture of Washington D.C. The city is also tragically poor and violent, overrun by daily murders reported in the paper. And who knows how seamy the political undercurrent is. In that way, Washington is a fit representation of America itself ‹ tranquil and troubled.

Lesson No. 6: The University of California is a mighty asset. I lived in the newly built UC Washington Center in the heart of the city with about 200 other UC students. It serves as lobbying headquarters for the University of California and is also equipped with huge apartments with televisions and dishware, classrooms, a computer lab, security personnel and other amenities. I don’t think I’ve ever realized to such an extent the benefits of belonging to a massive public state university. When I came back to UCSD, I found myself very fond of its services and opportunities. Sometimes you tend to forget what it has to offer.

Lesson No. 7: Life is work. Work is life. I worked about 43 hours a week for free at the office, behind a computer every single day. That is not supposed to be a complaint, although it sounds like one. I was always too tired to cook at night and settled for frozen food and “”Friends”” reruns. Everyday I wore skirts and blouses, rode the subway, had my own cubicle, took a half-hour lunch break and slept nine hours every night. This is what life is probably like for most of the population. It is not going to sleep at 3 a.m.; it is not going out with friends every night; it is not Fashion Valley and Tea Station and Geisel. For me, interning was a fun but short-lived experience. For others, it is providing for their families, meeting expenses and making use of their days. I suppose amidst the relative surreal whirlwind of college, I’d forgotten the purpose of obtaining a degree in the first place.

At the risk of making this column sound like a graduation speech, I bid you to treasure these college years and treasure your friends. My UCSD friends sent me care packages and called me, and I felt quite loved by their thoughtfulness. But how long is four years, though ‹ until you all part? How long before we watch children grow, lose hair, grow home gardens, lose jobs, grow up? Cherish college, kids.

I enjoyed Washington, D.C. It provided a red, white and blue injection of reality, and for that I will be forever indebted to the city.