August 6, 1968
by Janine Stephenson
I called my parents today to let them know I was still in this God-forsaken city. She told me that I received a letter from someone named Benjamin. My stomach dropped. It's been almost three months since I've seen him, and I feel like such a drip for not writing or calling. I've tried to put it out of my mind, but it's hard.
Mom asked me if I needed to have the letter forwarded. I was afraid it would get lost, so I told her no. I'd read it once I came back from the convention.
Becca and I still have not yet heard about our new assignments, which is odd considering that other people are getting ready to go. Craig told Becca that we should just be patient. It would work out soon.
I don't get a good feeling about it though. We've been shelved here in D.C., given dumb jobs while other people work madly. Normally, such a thing wouldn't bother me. After all, it isn't the job you do, it's the quality of work you achieve. But I can't help but feel like I'm an extra leg on a paralyzed man. Completely useless.
Today we answered the phones and watched the Republican convention on television. Craig hung out, mostly because he feels sorry for us. He keeps telling us that the campaign values our work. But that's hard to believe since we don't do much of it.
We noticed that the Nixon girls look pristine. It made us wonder what it's like to grow up in a famous family. Then we wondered how Mr. and Mrs. Nixon had sex. Then we saw an interview with Ronald Reagan and I told them that Ronald Reagan was a very good-looking man. Becca made a vomiting sound. Craig said that he never wanted to hear me say that again. Didn't I know that Reagan had a temper? He was a jerk to all the people protesting at UCLA. But if you ask me, he's governor. It's his job to be a jerk.
So that's been our day. It wasn't nearly as interesting as it sounds. I just wish they'd give us our new assignments soon. I don't like uncertainty.
