Ask anyone who has known me a long time to describe me in one word, I will bet on them saying "intense." It's a label I have been given over and over again. It's one that I never came to accept, until recently.

Intense. Strangers thought it was weird, my boyfriends dumped me because of it, and my friends joked about it - not always in an innocent way. I hated the word. I flinched when I heard the word and my name used in the same sentence. I went on the defense. The fact that I was intense and passionate in a part of the world where most people prefer normal, calm and the comfort of routine was a burden. One that my dear parents and family, my allies, did their best to help carry and nurture.

Now I realize that my intensity has an awesome purpose. I'm intense because I am signing up for a career that is extremely intense. I have an overabundance of energy because I'm going to need it when humanity's flaws and evil tendencies get in the way of good intentions time and time again. Failure is a given in international development and it's going to take a lot of passion to get back out there and try again. If my life turns out the way I have it in my head, I'll be working alonside the military and other federal officials in fairly dangerous places where I'll be riding in armored vehicles and may need a military escort at times. There is a good chance that my career will require bursts of activity and focus followed by rest and return to "normalcy." Intense? Yes. Perfect.

So, as it turns out, my intense personality was the difference between a predictable, average life and one that is full of mystery, excitement, opportunity, fun, ambition and life-changing experiences. A life focused on mortgages, retirement funds, 401ks, the grind for the next 60 years . . . or . . . a bunch of unknowns that whisper of endless possibilities.

If you aren't intense, you can't stand out in the crowd. I don't want to blend in. I don't want an ordinary life. I want an extraordinary one.

"Intense." Why, thank you.

After seeing a dear friend of mine, Stephanie Kleven, twice in two weeks due to her proximity (she lives in Philly), I realize how important this decision to move to D.C. was for my social needs.

God bless Missouri. I'm glad I was raised close to nature, with humble beginnings, solid values, the slow life, and zero materialism. On the other hand, I am a total skeptic of easy questions and simple answers and ends. For some unknown reason, I have always questioned simple conclusions, the average path and conventional reasoning. Curiousity was the death of my content Midwestern spirit and I set out to search for different answers.

Only in my travels did I collide with like-minded questioners. Free spirits on a search for something they couldn't explain. Not content unless they were in discovery. Pushing limits for the thrill of it and not writing anything off as impossible. Searching for something bigger than themselves. These were the people I needed in my life. These were my kindred spirits.

Now they are close. They live in D.C., Philly, New York, Boston. . . for the moment. Until they, too, head off on the next adventure. Chasing dreams, pursuing ambitions, starting non-profits, disappearing on long bike rides for the fun of it, acting on their (calculated) whims, studying what they are passionate about, plotting wild adventures in savage-like countries, pondering cross-country road trips, and, most importantly, never saying never. Never assuming the answer to life fulfillment is as easy as A, B, and C, but positive it's about living out A through Z. Shoving as much life and as many different types of livelihoods into this one life we are given.

I have amazing friends leading extraordinary lives. They never cease to inspire me. I could not even begin to guess where life will take them. Much to my relief.

From the doorstep of my apartment, I have an amazing six mile loop. Within four blocks, I pass Iwo Jima, followed quickly by Arlington Cemetary. Ten minutes in, I am crossing the Potomac and coming up the backside of the Lincoln Memorial. This stretch is gorgeous when the setting sun reflects off of the Potomac. Within 15 minutes of having left my apartment, I am running on the National Mall. No matter how many times a week I run it, I never tire of running up and alongside the Washington Monument at sunset and looking across the reflecting pool to the Lincoln and to my right at the Capitol. It is a rush every time. I love the architecture of all the buildings lining the mall and the power they represent.

Just another reason to love where I'm at.

Thirty-two Flavors and Then Some

Sometimes I’m annoyed by the fact that I’m still 100 percent single – I haven’t had a significant relationship in nearly four years – but, there are those moments when I am glad my romantic adventures haven’t lasted. Sometimes I am glad they are just that – adventures.

As long as I am labeling them adventures, allow me to just make a brief list of the different kinds I would like to have, starting with a photographer. I want to date a man whose passion is capturing beauty and I plan to be the object of his lenses while we date. For a brief moment, or however long our courtship lasts, I want to live out that quiet little girl fantasy of being a supermodel. For a brief moment in my life, I will look amazing in pictures.

Also on the list is an astronomer, or at least a dilettante in the field. We will sit under the stars on summer nights, me peering through his telescope while he teaches me about the far away world. Philosophical questions about human life will pop up and demand our probing for hours.

At the top of the list is my doctor without borders. My little do-gooder who gives up six figures so that he can travel the world healing the sick in the most forgotten corners on the globe. If I don’t get to marry this guy, I need to at least spend many years traveling the world with him. Maybe adopt a baby or two. In the midst of human crises, I’ll dash to grab his medical handbook and look up the disease he is trying to treat. He’ll discretely smile as I mispronounce “meningococcal” and look at him confused when he asks me to pass the bone mallet. When we aren’t working with the local population, we’ll sit out on the verandas surrounding our cabaña, complain about mosquitoes and watch the world pass around us. Maybe we could even land a beach front location in our forgotten part of the world. We won’t have any real estate competition in war-torn countries.

I’ll briefly need to date a lawyer so that he can pick out all of the flaws in my arguments and teach me how to pointedly defend my many opinions. Just trying to outsmart each other will be a fun challenge for a couple of months. Or maybe he will have it in his plans to make it all the way to the White House, in which case it would be better for us to stay together. After all, first ladies do get involved in policy these days. Even if we don’t work out, we'll stay friends and he'll remember that I would make an excellent candidate for Secretary of State.

Yes, I've actually given all of this thought. For the first time in my life, I have everything I want - my own apartment in an exciting city; a scholarship to work on a masters in international development at an excellent graduate school; a foot in the door at the International Rescue Committee; a job that has turned me into a food snob as well as pays the bills; a walk away from Whole Foods; magazine subscriptions to Foreign Policy, Time and Foreign Affairs; and a city full of ambitious people living out their dreams. All that's left to figure out is "with whom."

So until Mr. Pretty Damn Good shows up, I plan to make this dating game fun.

A Place to Call Home

Two weeks after my big move to D.C., and I can't believe the smooth, charmed transition I have had. I've been so showered with blessings that I find myself semi-suspicious of my fortune. Life has taught me that the good is only that way because it is spattered with bads. The good that has come my way in the last three years has quickly been followed with storm clouds. So, at this high point, I can't totally smother the voice that advises caution in my exuberance. "Humility, humility." After all, when it's good it's only down from there. But seeing as this blog has recorded its fair share of sorrowful entries, I think it's high time for a mention of the bundle of goods that has befallen me.

Immediately upon arriving to D.C., something felt like home. Unlike all of my other trips to new places, I felt an absolute calm in my new surroundings. A sureness. Yes, this is exactly where I need to settle for awhile. All of the acronyms that move in my head were suddenly buildings before my eyes: WB (World Bank), IMF (International Monetary Fund), NSA, NGO, IRC, IDB, etc. People were out and about, walking the busy sidewalks, eating lunch in the plazas and parks, running the National Mall, kite-flying around the monuments, walking home with totes of groceries. The vehicle is not god here. Plastic bags cost money, encouraging people to use more environmentally sustainable methods to carry home groceries. Organic food, when bought strategically, is as reasonably priced as the other stuff; I finally get to eat organic!!! Despite all the stereotypes I have heard over the years, I have yet to find this East Coast big city any more unfriendly than a big city in the Midwest. Rather, I have been pleasantly surprised by the friendliness in residential areas.

Much credit of this easy transition goes to my hosts. They have been incredibly generous, to the point where I have started to feel like a member of the family. I am staying with the parents of a friend I made while in Nicaragua. They have listened to my stories for two weeks now and discouraged any of my rushing through this process. They have given me my own room to stay in, bathroom to use, food to eat and all of the information I needed to familiarize myself with D.C. They've been my cheerleaders as I landed a coveted internship and, recently, a job.

The internship. I am smiling so big right now. The International Rescue Committee is an international humanitarian relief non-profit that I have watched for years. Beginning in my college days, I would frequently look at its career opportunities and conjure up what it would take to land a position with them. It was a far off dream (still smiling). They are in Haiti, the DRC, Somalia, Sudan, Myanmar and 37 other war-torn, post-disaster and/or severly poverty stricken countries. My internship is part of their domestic work - resettling refugees. It's a foot in the door and it's work that I am passionate about. After years of being a newcomer in a country and the recipient of open arms and homes in a foreign land, I cannot wait to do the same for others.

As of yesterday, I also have a job that pays the bills - waitress at a fine dining restaurant in downtown D.C. called Café Atlántico. Not only is it Urban Latin American cuisine, it's a place to keep up on my Spanish.

Finally, I have been accepted into an association called the Young Professionals in Foreign Policy, present in DC, New York, London and Brussels. It is full of young people like me, trying to get into the international career world while enjoying speakers, political events, happy hours, job fairs and mentoring from professionals who have been in the field for 20+ years. So when I'm not working (and, yes, I'll be working a lot) or taking salsa dancing classes, I'll have the opportunity to meet people like me.

In a matter of two weeks, I have set up a life that I am really, really excited about. If that isn't a sign that I am meant to be here, I don't know what would be.

Now, about where to live . . .

As I went for a casual Sunday run on the National Mall in my new city, I thought about how different my life would be today had I not chosen, and sometimes been handed, this vague path of mine. I took the “what ifs?” that I normally spin around in my head and spun them the other way.

What if that boy had loved me back instead of throwing me away like a greasy McDonald’s bag after he had consumed all of its contents? I likely wouldn’t be jogging on the National Mall, nor be in D.C. I would have followed him; done whatever necessary to make our relationship work. I would have spent my Sunday consumed by grocery lists, breakfast/lunch/dinner, housework and kid’s homework. I’d fall into bed after a day full of busyness and constant motion, too physically tired and emotionally worn for romance with the man I once couldn’t get enough of while he dreamed of that cute brunette at work. I’d do that for so many years that it would start to blur. And, sadly but realistically speaking, I would have sacrificed it all for a relationship with a fair chance of ending in the deep, nasty pain of divorce. So, while singlehood can be lonely, I’d much rather be lonely because I am alone than lonely as my spouse sits next to me on the couch. Thank you, then, Mr. Wishy-Washy (and so many other not nice names) for sparing me of the pain you would have brought into my life. Thank you for letting me go . . . forward.

What if I had hooked a steady income and eight hour work day straight out of college? What if I had jumped into the daily grind at 21 years old? Yeah, I’d have a 401K and maybe a new car. Shoot, maybe even a pretty house with all-steel appliances, automatic ice-maker, and big screen television. But I wouldn’t have felt like a little girl as I admired a swarm of seagulls swirling over my head in front of the Capitol. I would have forgotten to look up. I wouldn’t have lived in four countries and visited ten others by the age of 24. Most importantly, I may have forgotten the people around me. I wouldn’t have noticed the quiet tear fall from the eye of the store clerk when she thought no one was watching. I wouldn’t have exchanged wisdom with my father over bottomless cups of coffee countless times. I definitely wouldn’t have had time to sit in Borders on a Monday and read a book while the rest of the world buzzes past me in the window.

What if I hadn’t been raised by two parents who, after 38 years, still love each other profoundly and still kiss and laugh together? Well, I might have a boyfriend, seeing as I would have lower standards. Maybe I could be content with the guy who is sort of there but sort of not, and definitely never when you need him. I’ve dated him before. But, no, I’m waiting on Mr. Damn Near Wonderful because that is exactly who my father is to my mother.

What if I knew more of the answers to my life?

I wouldn't be having this much fun.

Seeking the Seemingly Impossible

Two weeks back in Missouri and I’m, as Norah Jones so gracefully hums, "feelin’ the same way all over again." I love family and mom and dad fill a hole that nothing else in this world can, but here I am again – recharged, confident, and ready to go back out there and get what it is I am looking for. Which prompts the question so regularly posed that I hear it in my sleep, "What exactly is it, Jessi, that you are looking for?" More often than not, I can only answer with what I don’t want. Recently, however, I picked up a book in which the author puts into words what I more or less want to say. Speaking of why he decided to dedicate his life to initiating philosophical dialogue in coffee shops around the country, Christopher Phillips, in his book "Socrates Café," writes:

"Before I made the commitment to start Socrates Café both my personal and professional life had ceased to have meaning for me. Many of my nearest and dearest would have been surprised by this revelation. Many of them envied my life. For over a decade, I had been a writer for national magazines. I traveled a great deal, met fascinating people. But I was deeply unhappy. I frequently asked myself: ‘Why can’t I just be normal and accept the fact that jobs are not meant to be all that fulfilling? Why can’t I accept the fact that most adults end up abandoning their more youthful and idealistic aspirations?’ The answer I came up with was always the same: Because life is not a dress rehearsal. Because I shouldn’t settle for less than doing exactly what I want to do with my life, despite the risks, or, better, because of the risks. My philosophy of life had always been to live intensely, to love intensely. But I hadn’t done that. . . Nietzsche said something to the effect that one should strive to live dangerously, and I think what he meant was that we shouldn’t hesitate to take sublime risks with our lives."

"I think we all have some unique ability that we can transform into our life’s work and passion. . . Because if you don’t find that job that feeds your passion, that makes you excited to get up in the morning and give everything you have to your work, then what are you left with?"

Live intensely and love intensely. Take calculated risks. Live dangerously. Give everything you have to your life’s work. Find what feeds your passion. Thank you, Christopher Phillips, for putting into words what it is that I am looking for. I want to feel alive every day of my life. I don’t want to be numbed by routine, security and a false sense of stability. I don’t want to look forward to television and my couch. I want a morally rewarding life purpose that, no matter how small, betters the lot of humankind. I want to wake up in the morning with a determination to give my work every ounce of my energy. I want a job that deserves every ounce of my energy, creativity and passion. I want to be comfortable, but not so comfortable that I stop working to make myself a better, more whole human being or forget the suffering of others. I never want to stop learning. I want to speak three or more languages. I want to visit every region in this world. I don’t want to ever lose my childlike curiosity and wonder for the world and humankind. I don’t want to grow old inside. If I can’t move geographically, I want to be moved intellectually or emotionally; I want continual forward movement. I want to discover what I was born to do. I want to be continually challenged and I want to challenge others. I want to push both my own, and your, limits. I want to be outsmarted by others and then make them my close friends. If I can’t travel the world, I want to discover new worlds in my mind. I want to die with a smile on my face because I did everything in my power to live my life to the fullest.

Yep. I know. I’m a dreamer. Damn right. I’ll keep looking until I find it. Granted, I won’t find it all at once or anytime soon. I’ll hit wall after wall. I’ll take wrong turns and go backwards. I’ll wallow in doubt. Some days I’ll feel like throwing in the towel and settling for a life less fulfilling and exciting as I had hoped. I probably won’t have benefits or a retirement fund anytime soon. Need I remind you that people around the country WITH "secure" and "stable" ("real" gets a good laugh out of me) jobs are losing those nice benefits, if not the job itself? There is no security there anymore. A large retirement fund which allows me to travel when I’m not watching television all day? I think I’ll just live my life now, while I am young, mobile, healthy, cancer-free, comfortable with few comforts, flexible, arthritis-free, dependent-free, adventurous, and have zero mortgage, car payments, bad hips, or a strict diet due to health conditions. Looking at my retirement-age parents, I doubt I will be any better at sitting still at 65 than I am at 24.

Besides, what other choice do I have? Sell out on my childlike aspirations because they were proving too difficult to realize? Give up and live with the subsequent long-term, gnawing disappointment and insidious self-resentment because I stopped believing in myself. Live but not be alive, just going through the motions?

Nah, I think I’ll just put on my helmet and ride this crazy notion. Bruises and bumps are better than a broken soul.

*This blog post facilitated by Jem’s "It’s Amazing." Download it.