one box of legislative office contents

...

Maybe you didn't know this: from January to June of this year, I worked in the Nevada State Assembly as a Personal Attaché (a fancy title for "person who runs this office, so please just go where I tell you").

I learned so much about state government, the political process, and my personal philosophical idiosyncrasies while I was there. My favorite part? The hours and hours I spent holed up in my office watching broadcasts of committee meetings and floor sessions.

Meet the box of the day: a box of things I packed out of that office at the end of the 76th Session:

that i left with just one box of personal items is impressive, no?

Let's see what made the cut:

• A copy of the journal (that's the record of the daily actions on the floor of each house) for April 20, 2011. The Assembly adjourned that day in memory of a friend-of-a-friend who had been killed in a car accident. I meant to show the journal to said friend. I forgot.
• Some certificates and accolades, like the certificate commemorating one of the days I was "extended the privilege of the floor of the Assembly." I believe that was Staff Appreciation Day. Here's a picture of me on the floor:

the office that just wants to go back to work, already

 

• A Christmas stocking. Huh? Let's assume I threw this in here after the box came to live in the blue room.
• A cd booklet full of music I listened to when my legislator was in session or otherwise out of the office. In particular, the Black Keys' Brothers; directly responsible for me surviving the last two or three weeks of the session.
• Assorted vitamins, teas, envelope soups, and, oh lord, Tupperware... to the dishwasher that goes.
• A box of Miracle-Gro Plant Food Spikes. Please hold while I feed all my plants. Thank you for holding.
• My old glasses and a cleaning cloth. Hooray for health insurance that enabled me to get my first eye exam in 8 years.
• Some really great notepads made from old legislative stationary. The paper soaks up the ink from my favorite pens in a highly satisfying, only-a-stationary-nerd-would-understand, kind of way. 
• A coupon good for one free drink at the Carson Cigar Company: espresso martini, here I come. 
• A stack of my dad's business cards. Because, when you work for Republicans, it's never a misstep to say, "Here, this guy would love to help you pick out a gun." 
• Another stack of business cards, one each from every person who visited our office. I feel like I should save these, but why? If I needed to contact a lobbyist or the head of a special interest group, couldn't I just use the internet to find them? Yes, yes, I think I could. This sort of thinking out loud helps me to just throw things away already, damn it. 
• A birthday card from my legislator. I guffawed, loudly, whenever I looked at it, even though it isn't really all that funny:
 
i don't know why, but i crack up every time!

 

• A steno pad with training "notes;" i.e., doodles.
• A 5th grade social studies textbook given to our office. I read parts of it one day while passing time waiting for a committee meeting to end, and I loved it, so I kept it.
• A handful of weird personal effects, like floss, and a band-aid, and lip gloss, and whatnot.
• And a cartoon describing "How a Bill Becomes Law" that is the most accurate representation of the political process I've ever seen:

it's funny cuz it's true

Negative: I unpacked the box in a quarter of the time it took me to write about it.

Positive: I remembered that I don't have to participate in another conversation about politics until the 77th Session.