Let me preface by saying that I've never seen an entire episode of West Wing; even better, let me say that I've seen two partial episodes, one in the first season, mid-year, and one around the same time second season. Therefore, I know extremely little about the actual characters. In celebration that the new season has started, I decided to throw this little piece together. Again, let me state that all I know about the characters I've learned from listening to a friend go on and on about the West Wing, and from the fan fiction I've read recently. (If you know of any good CJ or Abbey fanfictions, please let me know, I've already decided they're my favorites because of the actresses!) "Grade" leniently, if you will, but feedback/reviewing would be greaaaaaatly appreciated!
This is through CJ's point of view, being that I can identify with her best. The first and last lines are, of course, an extremely short excerpt of Sarah McLachlan's song Do What You Have to Do. Thanks again, and enjoy! And no, I won't make money off of this and do not claim to own them. So there.
"Do what you have to do..."
It's not that simple.
They say the older we get, the more knowledge we attain. At this point, I'm prepared to disagree seeing as this "knowledge" has quickly fallen into the neverending pit of bullshit I've managed to gather over time. Granted, this so-called intelligence is extremely practical and could, though doubtful, possibly held solve some life-altering decision somewhere down the line. But in the course of life, in all of our lives, who really gives a damn? In the long run, we listen to this wealth of facts that pool in the crevaces of our brains and yell when the occasional synapse is fired. And yet, we get nowhere, fumbling and stumbling through our everyday, antagonistic, and highly "unnormal" lives (If Sam and President Bartlet can make up words, dammit, so can I!).
Sometimes I just get so tired of getting up with the alarm even before sunrise, going to the senior staff briefings, then retiring to my office and my papers, waiting for my appointment with the next group, more press. And yet, knowing what I was getting into, I accepted this job, this station, and no matter how tiring, I still embrace it. I know no different.
I do also admit, since I'm being brutally honest here, that I did not sign up for this fraud I'm knowingly and willingly committing. Yet, I do it with a strange sort of honor and pride. I will serve him and the rest of the staff for the rest of my time here, as well as I can. Don't I owe him, and them, as much?
Multiple sclerosis, though a crippling disease, is not imminently fatal - another fact drawn from the adult mind of Claudia Jean. A veritable bottomless well. He, Josiah Bartlet, President of the United States of America, shows no outward signs of MS, yet he has it. It's strange how the world works, how all this medical jargon flies right over all of our heads, though Abbey seems to vaguely understand what she's only begun to explain. It hasn't quite sunk in yet for her, or the rest.
My proverbial well of knowledge is as dry as it has ever been, comprehension has yet to dawn, and I'm more frustrated than anything else. And I'm not alone in this lack of understanding, my determination, like theirs, is resolute. From the campaign trail as Governor onward; we got Jed Bartlet in office, and no disease will take him out. We will stand by our President as we always have, still not understanding, and we will make him proud, Toby, Leo, Sam, Josh, Donna, Abbey, and I.
Fraud or otherwise, though that "pit of bullshit" and all of its synapses are firing out answers to fraudulent cases, sentences, judgements. After all, the childish part of me that still longs for perfect justice argues, "Roosevelt did it, and he's considered one of the best presidents to ever be inaugurated. If this is a more metaphorical trial to find the measure of the man, whatever Gods have managed this will soon run out of tape measure. President Josiah Bartlet is a good man, we all have utter faith in his abilities. Fraud, or no.
"Do what you have to do..."
This is through CJ's point of view, being that I can identify with her best. The first and last lines are, of course, an extremely short excerpt of Sarah McLachlan's song Do What You Have to Do. Thanks again, and enjoy! And no, I won't make money off of this and do not claim to own them. So there.
"Do what you have to do..."
It's not that simple.
They say the older we get, the more knowledge we attain. At this point, I'm prepared to disagree seeing as this "knowledge" has quickly fallen into the neverending pit of bullshit I've managed to gather over time. Granted, this so-called intelligence is extremely practical and could, though doubtful, possibly held solve some life-altering decision somewhere down the line. But in the course of life, in all of our lives, who really gives a damn? In the long run, we listen to this wealth of facts that pool in the crevaces of our brains and yell when the occasional synapse is fired. And yet, we get nowhere, fumbling and stumbling through our everyday, antagonistic, and highly "unnormal" lives (If Sam and President Bartlet can make up words, dammit, so can I!).
Sometimes I just get so tired of getting up with the alarm even before sunrise, going to the senior staff briefings, then retiring to my office and my papers, waiting for my appointment with the next group, more press. And yet, knowing what I was getting into, I accepted this job, this station, and no matter how tiring, I still embrace it. I know no different.
I do also admit, since I'm being brutally honest here, that I did not sign up for this fraud I'm knowingly and willingly committing. Yet, I do it with a strange sort of honor and pride. I will serve him and the rest of the staff for the rest of my time here, as well as I can. Don't I owe him, and them, as much?
Multiple sclerosis, though a crippling disease, is not imminently fatal - another fact drawn from the adult mind of Claudia Jean. A veritable bottomless well. He, Josiah Bartlet, President of the United States of America, shows no outward signs of MS, yet he has it. It's strange how the world works, how all this medical jargon flies right over all of our heads, though Abbey seems to vaguely understand what she's only begun to explain. It hasn't quite sunk in yet for her, or the rest.
My proverbial well of knowledge is as dry as it has ever been, comprehension has yet to dawn, and I'm more frustrated than anything else. And I'm not alone in this lack of understanding, my determination, like theirs, is resolute. From the campaign trail as Governor onward; we got Jed Bartlet in office, and no disease will take him out. We will stand by our President as we always have, still not understanding, and we will make him proud, Toby, Leo, Sam, Josh, Donna, Abbey, and I.
Fraud or otherwise, though that "pit of bullshit" and all of its synapses are firing out answers to fraudulent cases, sentences, judgements. After all, the childish part of me that still longs for perfect justice argues, "Roosevelt did it, and he's considered one of the best presidents to ever be inaugurated. If this is a more metaphorical trial to find the measure of the man, whatever Gods have managed this will soon run out of tape measure. President Josiah Bartlet is a good man, we all have utter faith in his abilities. Fraud, or no.
"Do what you have to do..."