Day 11 – WJI

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Listening to Biden’s speech on Russia/Ukraine requires much “inner peas” and mapscape.

Due to a kerfuffle in the hostel, I woke at 3am and plunged into my book review. The lights in our pods are the best. I want to take it home with me…but my suitcase would burst asunder. I have not yet learned Mindy Belz and Jamie Dean’s advice about light packing.

I did a lot of head cracking on the bull riding gig today and then, suddenly when all had already been lost, all the cowboys called me back. We had good chats, but the article still went off in ruins.

Our faithful and ever-patient Mr. Pitts gave us morning sessions on computer-assisted reporting. I thought this would be painful due to my dislike of computers and numbers, but it was actually super interesting. We practiced our new found skills stalking one another and ascertaining Dr. Olasky’s true DOB.

Just by searching in the right place, I can find all my addresses and family members. This is something I’m not sure I wanted to know.

I focused so intently on unraveling the great concussion disasters inherent to rodeos, I completely forgot to check my lettuce wrap for cheese. I suddenly realized what I had done when I began to shake and feverify. I felt tremendously pathetic and rude for oozing out of our awesome web session with Mickey McClean and trekking to the pharmacy. But not quite as pathetic as I felt when I arrived…without my wallet.

Thankful the pharmacist and Sandy, our most esteemed den-mother, extended grace.

Mr. Pitts charged us not to fall asleep as we dissected the cadavers of our AP stories (cowboys, etc.) from yesterday. My computer died a few times, but I did not. Then we got new assignments that I worked on far, far too late. And so now I’m posting at this late hour.

Getting up early to skype Ukraine. Happy day.

I leave myself with this exhortation:

Read this, Bethany. It will help you/give you courage/fill you with hope.


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