The JE Guide to Life

Belated return!

2011-12-18T22:31:00.004-05:00

Well, it's been wayyyyyyyy too long since I updated. I've gone back and forth about whether to keep blogging here, open up a new blog or just let the whole online blogging thing die a slow and painful death. I've decided to stick with either 1 or 3. I guess we'll see in another couple of months.

It's fitting that my last blog posts were about starting my new job and passing the bar, and now, several months later I've been working myself to exhaustion and hardly had time to think about blogging, much less actually wanting to sit down and write. But T is out of town for work tonight, I've got time on my hands, and I'm kind of tired of watching old re-runs of Malcolm In The Middle and 30 Rock on Netflix. So here's a quick recap on what's been happening since I finished the bar:

I finished the bar at the end of July, and then a week later I had to take the MPREs because I'd never actually gotten around to signing up for them during law school. Let me tell you: that sucked. Don't do that, if you can avoid it. It seemed like everyone else was relaxing and enjoying the fleeting period of time between finishing the bar and starting work/freaking out about not having a job. I didn't get even that fleeting second. Because I took the bar on one week, and had to immediately cram for the MPRE the following Friday, and then started work on Monday. My head was spinning.

But then I went to work, and I pretty much have hardly caught my breath since. I go in most days around 9 a.m. and leave anywhere between 6 p.m. and 9 p.m. That's probably a cakewalk for most first year associates, so I feel bad feeling bad about this. Working with The Gang isn't the typical, "big firm" experience. Still -- did it never occur to me that by going to law school, I was headed toward being an actual lawyer? With lawyer responsibilities and lawyer hours? I was commiserating with a friend who is in a terrible first post-JD job working for an emotionally abusive jerk boss who alternates between screaming at her and confiding his marital problems to her. (She has it worse.) We both agreed that we've learned more in the pair of months that we've been baby attorneys than we did during all of law school, and it's definitely more exhausting and difficult. Yet...

This is exactly the job I wanted. I am working with immigrants who are facing removal proceedings, and I am being given the space and support to come up with creative solutions for defending their right to be/stay here in the United States. I'm helping victims of crimes and their surviving family members navigate through the bureaucracy of state prosecutors' offices. I've attended marriage interviews and asylum hearings and gone to court. I have my first court date here in Big City (my first one was out of town) this week! Really, truly, I love it.

And our apartment is great. We no longer live in Tiny Firetrap Apartment, but have moved exactly one block down the street, to a new third floor walk-up with bigger rooms, hardwood floors, a small porch and roof access. We actually have space to invite friends over, and have been able to host a halloween party, pancake dinner, several game nights and other festivities. When I come home now, after work, I look forward to eating dinner with T, watching a tape or hanging out with him in the office while he works and I surf the internet, and then having quiet cozy time before doing it all over the next day. Most nights now, I'm too tired to go out. But on the weekends, our friends from the neighborhood are all around - we were so lucky to not have to sacrifice our awesome location for an apartment upgrade. We get together, or we walk downtown to go window shopping. Sometimes on Saturdays I have to go to the office for a bit in the early afternoon, but the minute I walk out of the building my mind switches off of work and on to the rest of life. So, life's pretty good. I can honestly say that finishing law school was like stepping outside into a bright sunny day after endless days of being shut up in a dark library. That was one long, difficult stretch, and I don't regret it for a second, even if our paychecks are being devoured by student loan bills. But it sure feels NICE out here in the real world again.

Post #401

2011-10-14T15:17:00.002-04:00

I passed the bar! I'm going to be an attorney, it turns out! An immigration attorney, I might add. :)t

back to firsts

2011-08-07T22:18:00.005-04:00

I'm done with the lasts.... last class, last exam, last time I ever take the bar (hopefully)...

It's time for the firsts... as in, first day of work. Tomorrow I meet the Gang at the brand new office (literally...it's brand new). I'm very excited to get started on this adventure, but I just really, really hope that I'm going to impress everyone with my mad legal skillz, and not be a rusty old let-down. I'm sure it's fine, and I'm sooo over being self-depracating, but ~~law school~~ the bar exam has done a number on my self-confidence. So.

I'm off now to plan my first day of work outfit, and get a good night's rest!

Professional responsibility

2011-08-04T23:12:00.002-04:00

I hope I have it. Because tomorrow morning, a mere 10 days after completing the dreaded, seizure-inducing-to-think-about bar exam, I am taking its much tamer, annoying little cousin: the MPRE. Yep. I was that person our Dean warned us not to be, the one that ignored emails and forgot deadlines and has thus been required to study for the week after the bar, while all my friends are off celebrating.

Ok, so I haven't been studying all week. But I have been studying ~~all~~ most of the day, yesterday and today, so that I feel somewhat more confident about knocking out this little portion of the wall that stands between me and my professional career.

So to recap:
Last Wednesday = last day of the bar
Friday = MPRE
Monday = starting new job

Yikes! Luckily, September 11 = week at the beach. I can not wait.

new haircut new job new chapter

2011-08-01T01:16:00.003-04:00

yeap. i finished the bar, for the first time ever, and hopefully the last. and a week from now, i'll be starting my new job as a law clerk for a small immigration group that i shall call The Gang henceforth, for lack of a better descriptor and for anonymity's sake. if i pass the bar, i am anticipating being a young associate attorney, but that's for chillier days of late fall. for now, i plan to walk to the office and do my time as a good little legal researcher and client handler and so on and so forth. i consider myself extremely, incredibly, horrendously lucky to have found a job, all thing considered. and to be able to work in my field, in the kind of small office environment i was hoping for, and to be able to maintain my car-free lifestyle? all blessings that i thank God for. because i sure didn't do anything to deserve them. but i'll do my best to use my blessings for good things, and to remain grateful.

these are exciting times, in so many ways, on the home-front. because of bar stress and all that, i've not updated on the housing / apartment hunt situation. but we are hoping to have a sweet new place in the same neighborhood sometime within the next two months. we managed to negotiate a fair deal with our landlords of the past 3 years, in which they agreed to let us move out whenever we want, as long as we take the responsibility of finding a new tenant that they approve of. so we're not bound for another year at this point, and they don't have to worry about us ditching them in the dead of winter with no prospects for a new tenant. with the new job, the new paycheck, the new apartment (hopefully. soon), the new lease on life, and the new haircut for the first time in OVER A YEAR, i'm feeling nervous and excited at once. things are heating up around here, i'm grabbing my saddle and holding on for the ride.

One day down.

2011-07-26T18:08:00.001-04:00

Day #1 down. Essays are over. I bombed the first part of the day. I have a vague recollection of panicking on the first essay and then my memory goes blank until lunch. Second half wasn't as bad. I felt like I knew what I was talking about, understood the call of the question and mostly remembered the rules. It was all about racing the clock on that part.

Tomorrow is the MBE. Tonight, a glass of wine.

the suspense is killing me

2011-07-25T22:39:00.003-04:00

But I wasn't finished! I had so much left to do! There's so much left unspoken between me and my bar lecturers. I am fighting SO HARD against the urge to stay up all night cramming. So hard. I want to puke. Gah.

Fear and loathing in a firetrap apartment

2011-07-24T21:31:00.003-04:00

It's less than 36 hours until the bar exam. Holy You Know What.

As I told T over dinner tonight, I am alternating between terror and tranquility, feeling petrified and feeling peaceful... afraid...and accepting.

But he doesn't need me to tell him that. He's seen Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde both out in full force over the past weekend. Yesterday, he came home and started trying to fix our broken-in-a-three-digit-heatwave A/C while I was stretched across the floor listening to a lecture on corporate officers for the umpteenth time. "T..." I shouted, as he vacuumed dog fur from the vents, "what you're doing is REALLY ANNOYING!"

"I KNOW!" he called back. "I'm just trying to help, you know."

At which point, I wanted to hurl my giant book of MBE questions at him, but refrained probably out of heat exhaustion rather than actual self-control. Five minutes later, I'm pretty sure we were both asleep. At 6:00 p.m.

Between the heat and the stress, it's been a real bucket of sunshine up in these parts. I just can't wait 'til it's all over. And I pray I won't have to do it again.

Thoughts while I break from bar

2011-07-19T13:08:00.001-04:00

After reading this post on white feminism & thinking about privilege playing itself out in the immigrant rights' movement and various legislation campaigns:

Thought: in discouraging police cooperation with ICE, is there something problematic/privileged in focusing on police as gatekeepers to protection from DV?

BETTER NOT TELL YOU NOW

2011-07-17T01:47:00.007-04:00

"Am I going to pass the bar exam?" I asked the Magic Google Ball.

The Magic Google Ball responded:

I can't write anything at all right now, but I did discover this gem from Thanks, But No Thanks. If you want an update on me or any other loved one (including yourself, if you are an unfortunate bar candidate also trolling around like a spider-bot looking for answers), I recommend clicking over and reading it.

Last stop before 30

2011-07-01T18:42:00.003-04:00

Hey! So in three days, I turn 30. And I hope that I remember to pack a pen and a journal to write about and reflect on turning 30. But I'm not doing it here. Maybe when I get back.

Instead, I'm trying to focus on studying for the state-specific portions of the Bar, and kind of obsessively calculating in the back of my mind at all times what the likelihood is that I'll not pass.

Tomorrow, though, we're headed back down to VA to see my best friend's baby turn 1 (!) and then go camping. Yay! We did that last year for my birthday, and it was awesome. Maybe a little tradition in the making? Who knows.

Oh yeah, and I pretty much didn't do any of the things left to do on my 30 before 30 list since the last time I posted. But that's cool. It just gives me some things to work on over the next year!

Another Friday night during bar prep

2011-06-24T20:18:00.003-04:00

Dinner tonight is shells & alfredo sauce (aka mac 'n' cheese) with fried (fake) chicken cutlets. I am letting T nap while I prepare this half-baked (heh) dinner. Afterward, we are hitting the road, along with the dog. I decided that instead of staying home to study this weekend, while he's in Richmond, I'm going to go to my parents' house so the dog and I can have some open air and greenery around us. I'm packing up all my Kaplan books and my laptop, so I don't miss a lecture or a quiz or homework assignment, though I'd be lying to everyone involved if I said I was going to do everything I'm supposed to while I'm gone. I can't even keep up from home.

Oh well. I took a practice MBE earlier this week. Aside from the grueling tedium of sitting for six hours answering multiple choice questions, it wasn't that terrible. I managed to hit the supposed goal posts for this far along in the course. But we're half way through, which means it's getting closer to the Big Day. Errrr... scary!

One thing is for sure, though. I am lucky to have this wonderful man in my life who works hard every day to make sure we have money for groceries and gas and electricity and the occasional dinner out, so I don't have to totally freak about money while I study. It helps that he's handsome and has a good sense of humor too. Love ya, T!

Own Date

2011-06-17T21:52:00.003-04:00

Took myself out on a very lovely date tonight.

T and the dog are gone for the weekend, down in Virginia visiting his parents with my brother in law. They drove off this afternoon, and I walked them to the car, wearing flip flops with socks and trying to ignore the fact that the sidewalks were crowded with summer Friday passersby. This is the second weekend in a row (and next weekend will be the third) that T has left town for at least part of the time. Last week, he was visiting friends in NYC and next week he will be down in VA again. I'm so glad he's taking advantage of the summer and getting out and about to see friends and reconnect. But I do miss him. Already. And with both him AND the dog gone, the house feels especially quiet and lonely.

But I've never been one to dislike solitude. So after reviewing contract formation for the trillionth time (I take back what I said about learning anything useful for the bar in Advanced Contracts), I grabbed my keys, wallet and the Summer Fiction edition of the New Yorker, and just walked out the house. No feeling guilty about leaving the dog. No rushing to be on time. I just went down the stairs, stepped out onto the sidewalk and walked the two and a half blocks to one of our favorite Mexican restaurants.

Yes, at first it felt awkward to be standing in a restaurant filled with groups of young people, downing margaritas while servers hustled and bustled around the room, and to not be noticed, and then mistaken for a member of another party. But once I settled in with my chips and coke (and once my spilled coke was mopped up and replaced...yikes! Good thing I don't need to impress myself!) I was able to Just. Chill. Out.

While eating my chicken mole enchiladas, I started reading this really awesome short story by Jeffrey Eugenides (author of the amazing Middlesex). The short story Asleep in the Lord, is about a 23-year old religious studies major and uncertain Christian who set off to travel around the world in search of spirituality and ends up volunteering in Calcutta at a hospice run by Mother Teresa. He is trying to figure out where he fits in in the world around him, wedged as he is between the strait-laced European Catholic volunteers and the hippie New Age backpackers. He is also trying to summon the courage to do the "dirty work" at the hospice, to figure out the relationship between works and faith. Oh, it's good.

I got hooked at the restaurant, and finished the story at the park by my house. On Fridays in the summertime, there is always a family-friendly musical act going on at the park. When I rolled in, still feeling weird about being there without the dog, kids were running everywhere, young parents chatting it up and band members packing up gear. I sat and read on a park bench.

Now I'm back here, and recounting my brief but pleasant date with myself, because it was lovely, and I wanted to capture this moment. I am content, even if I am missing my husband and my little fur family. And even if I am in the middle of bar prep. We found the apartment we want, and assuming we work out the details the way we would like (it is a little complicated), we'll be able to take it over come September. This makes me extremely happy. The decision was easy, too. T and I went to see it, looked at each other and as soon as we walked out, said, "Let's do it." The best part is that it's only a block down from where we are now, and two doors from T's best friend, and overlooking the park. So, I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Oh, summer.

Bar classes: to take or not to take?

2011-06-11T00:13:00.003-04:00

So bar prep is weird, and has me thinking back to all that conflicting advice about how I should - no shouldn't! - no, I really should enroll in bar classes my second year - AND third! - no, no, I should just take what I want and not worry about the bar. I'm just going to relearn it in bar prep class anyway. But if I know what's good for me I have to take tax - corporations - trusts and estates - crim pro because I'm going to need it for the bar.

Uh huh. Clear as mud.

I'm about three weeks into bar prep classes now, and what I've found is that I am profoundly glad, in a way that is quite shocking to me, that I took advanced contracts my last semester. I absolutely hated it by the end of April, and was convinced that would be part of my downfall in law school. But now that I've graduated, and I'm listening to long, boring lectures about promissory estoppel and third-party beneficiaries and firm offers, I am SO HAPPY that it's all so fresh in my memory. I find myself just knowing the law to some of this stuff, without really needing to rely on the gazillions of mnemonics and fill-in-the-blank worksheets that Kaplan throws at you. I'm surprising myself, and feel a deep sense of relief in this moment. This is because I only got 3 wrong out of 17 practice questions I just did. Tomorrow will be another day.

On the other hand, I am convinced I had one of the best evidence teachers ever, and I felt really confident about my ability to master hearsay exceptions. Yet, the more I pay attention in bar lectures, the more confused I get. It's almost like I want to just tune it all out and stick with what I know. But that's not working. I took evidence my fall semester of 2L year, and despite feeling on top of the world at the time, I'm quite rusty. I don't trust myself to just KNOW this stuff, and rightly so, because I'm doing just over 50% on my practice problems.

The one cliche about bar prep that I heard during law school that has turned out to be very true is this: Bar review is just that - a review. Don't plan to learn the material there for the first time. It's too much material in too little time.

So in the end, yeah, I guess I come out in favor of taking the bar prep classes, but maybe just the ones that interest you. Cause I sure as hell didn't take taxation. Ask me if my opinion has changed after we do that portion of the review.

Productive days

2011-06-09T10:13:00.004-04:00

Some days feel more productive than others. I'm not talking about bar prep, although the sentiment certainly applies to my Kaplan studies. Yesterday, I replanted my little cilantro seedling, only realizing afterward that the seed packet said they don't replant well. I also knocked one of my seedling pots off the third story window, and had to run down two flights of stairs and scoop up my baby plants before a passerby squashed them or they dried out in the scorching sidewalk heat. Hopefully, they'll survive.

Yesterday I also made an appointment with a new lady doctor. Making a doctor's appointment always feels productive. It's a way to take control of one's life, and I've been doing a lot of that lately. Or trying.

So who knows: will today be a productive day, or a day that I sit around and do nothing? I guess it's up to me.

Computers are the new TV

2011-06-06T22:26:00.002-04:00

So T and I have decided to commit to turning our computers off at 11:00 p.m. every night this week. It's been three days so far. I have to say, this little step toward being more intentional with our lives is quite refreshing. I made my lunch ahead of time last night, with a side of green beans. (Anyone?) I'm looking forward to 29 minutes from now!

Placeholder

2011-06-04T20:09:00.002-04:00

Ok, I take it back. Studying for the bar isn't all it's cracked up to be, whatsoever. Or should I say, it IS all it's cracked up to be...and that's not much.

But whatever, I'm not here to complain about bar review. I guess I'm just here to hold a place for the blog for whenever I can summon the energy, interest and self-awareness needed to continue posting. For now, I'm going to slink back into silence.

Studying for the bar now.

2011-05-31T21:59:00.001-04:00

I am actually studying for the Bar. I'm actually studying for the Bar! Woo-eee! I feel like I've arrived :)

Hmm. Ask me again in four weeks. I suspect I'll be singing a different tune. I just can't believe I'm now doing what all those law blawgers were doing when I started following them 3 or 4 years ago, as I was considering whether to apply. Sweet!

5 weeks, 2 days (don't blink)

2011-05-27T18:05:00.006-04:00

When I contemplated the idea of going to law school, it was actually a sticking point that I would be almost 30 when I graduated. I thought to myself: "But if I go to law school, I'll be turning thirty - THIRTY!! - when I get out!" As if by not going to law school, I would somehow stop the passage of time. I guess I'll never know... ha!

Now I've knocked out law school, I am preparing to knock out the big 3-0 in just a few weeks. That means reassessing the many (many) things on my 30 before 30 list that I have yet to do. Along with patting myself on the back for the ones I've accomplished!

Without further ado, a recap (for myself of course):

~~1) Read the New Testament~~
~~2) Plant a (herb?) garden~~
3) Perfect grandma's chicken and rice
4) Learn to cook Ajiaco
~~5) Attend Catholic mass in Italian Latin and Spanish~~ *
6) Get a Brazilian wax
~~7) Be able to do a new hairstyle (no ponytails)~~
~~8) Introduce T to my Colombian relatives~~
9) Learn to hem / basic sewing
10) Record my dad's life story
~~11) Visit my bro in CO or wherever he is~~
~~12) Run in a race~~
13) Play on an intramural/community sports team
14) Get a bike
15) Go back country camping
~~16) Go fishing~~
~~17) Spend a night dancing at a Latin music club~~
18) Shoot a roll of film & frame a new picture for my walls
19) Take a Tae Kwon Do class
~~20) Take a yoga class~~
21) Publish a zine
~~22) Ride a wave on a surf board~~
~~23) Take accordion lessons~~
24) Be a regular volunteer
25) Visit at least two local museums
26) Do an agility course with E
~~27) Play blackjack in a casino~~
~~28) Get a spray tan~~
~~29) Visit a farm with my mom~~
30) Take a road trip with T

* I went to Catholic mass in Latin and decided that I'd had enough novelty mass. However, I also went to a UMC church service out of curiosity (it happened to be a predominately black church, and I am white, and church in general is still a different scene for me, since I wasn't raised to go) and I'm counting that.

Looking over this list, it's funny some of the things that I haven't done, that I thought for sure I would do. I can't believe I've had two years to shoot a roll of film, and I haven't done it. That seems like the kind of thing you almost don't put on a list like this because it seems too obvious or easy. But, surprise! Two years pass by and it hasn't happened. That's why I encourage people to do these lists and to keep them simple. After all, time flies faster than you'd think. (Don't blink.)

On the other hand, I am quite proud that I have read the entire New Testament and actually introduced T to my relatives in Colombia! I was really looking forward to doing both of those things and knew they'd be crossed off just because I already had plans to do them. But nonetheless, I love that they happened!

And there are some things I never would have done if I hadn't made a list and thought to add them. Planting an herb garden is one. I've always wanted to, but I am sure I wouldn't have actually done it if I hadn't put it on a glorified to-do list. So after I finished my finals, the first thing I did was buy a few little pots and some seeds and get to work! Since we live in a third-floor firetrap apartment, my seedlings only live on my windowsill. But they are thriving - all except for the basil, sadly. Or is it sage? I'm not sure. But I've got sage (or is it basil?), cilantro and dill, and I can't wait to eat them! Yum.

I'm talking like I've run out of time, but I still have 5 wonderfully summery weeks left. (Si dios quiere.) (I am probably going to give myself an extension to the end of 30 anyway, just cause.) I can't wait to get to work on the rest of my list, which is just a list of fun things I want to do, after all. Not chores. Not ambitious goals. Not serious milestones. Just the stuff that I want to be happening while I'm busy making other plans. You know, life.

Graduation day

2011-05-19T09:49:00.004-04:00

I graduate today, and it's a surreal feeling. Seems like just a year ago that I was living in Richmond with T, working at my old HR job and fooling around with LSAT books. We lived in a bigger apartment, had a porch, weren't married, had two paychecks, I was bored with my work, we were close to family, T ran a printing press every day and we were four years younger.

I never, even then, would've seen myself as a "law student" much less a "lawyer". Throughout the entire application process, right up until the first day of school, I went through the motions with my tongue planted in my cheek. It all felt silly, almost. Buying a cheap backpack at Target with T the night before my first classes, because the messenger bag I'd used for work wasn't gonna cut it with all those case books I had to lug around. Getting used to all that free time during the day, when I could be at coffee shops or chatting with my new classmates. All those meet-and-greets with professors and other students, like I was back in college. Oh wait. I WAS back in college. It just didn't seem real. And once again, it doesn't seem real.

In between, I got accustomed to the classes, the free time, the other students, the backpack, the test anxiety, the casebooks and the latin. It almost began to feel completely normal. This really hit home a couple weeks ago when I made a dark joke about the death penalty to a group of non-law school friends and was met with concerned looks. I quickly went to explain myself: "Sorry, I'm in a habeas corpus class this semester. Humor is a coping mechanism." My friends looked at me like I had two heads and then proceeded to make fun of me for the rest of the evening for using the phrase "habeas corpus" in casual conversation. I don't blame them.

Anyway, I guess I was gonna get three years old whether or not I went to law school. But now that I'm graduating, it's as good a time as any to reflect on being three years older. I remember thinking, at the beginning of this journey, "Woah... I'm gonna be getting ready to turn 30 the year I graduate," and being horrified at how old that would be. I've gotten used to the concept of turning 30, along with a lot of other things. Unlike three years ago, when I first matriculated, I have no idea what the next three years will bring. I'm back to the normal adult world of choices and job hunting and making a paycheck and charting a path to the future without a map.

But before all that, I have to go celebrate with all the family that's come into town, and then do one last final test of endurance: the bar exam. So for the next 6? 8? weeks I'll be holed up cramming bits of knowledge into my brain on a tightly planned schedule. And come August, I'll be let loose into the world again.

I'm getting a JD!

2011-05-17T13:57:00.002-04:00

I got my paper back yesterday. I passed with a much higher grade than I could've imagined. :P My feelings about that are mixed, however. I'm eternally grateful I was able to do well in a class I had expected to bomb. But I wonder if it's not going to contribute to my slack attitude and give me another excuse to procrastinate on future projects.

Whatever the case, I graduate from law school in two days. Holy hell! It's all still so surreal.

pity party

2011-05-04T18:23:00.002-04:00

throwing a self-pity party! all are welcome.

i'm seriously freaking out that i'm not going to graduate. why? because i sabotaged my research writing paper requirement. :( i know i'll survive, even if that turns out to be the case, but right now, i'm just mad.

Law school isn't hard

2011-04-27T09:06:00.004-04:00

Yesterday when I was leaving my clinical office, I rode down on the elevator with my supervising attorney and another attorney from the office. They were leaving for the day, and I was headed home to continue work on my giant research paper and to cram for my final on Friday. I looked at them chit-chatting and said, "I'm so jealous of you guys. You don't have finals to study for."

They laughed. Scoffed, more like it. Their workload is so immense, and the consequences for not doing their best work far exceeds mine. When they screw up on a deadline, their clients get deported. When I screw up, I get half a letter grade off. It reminds me of what an attorney I know said to me during the very first week of law school: "Law school isn't hard. Being a lawyer is hard."

Of course, I'm still riddled with anxiety over this paper and my exams, and the few cases from clinic that I still have to finish before I go. And the loose ends that must be tied up here and there (and everywhere) before I can graduate. I'm still paranoid that something will happen at the last minute and I won't be allowed to walk across that stage. Even thinking about it to type this short paragraph makes my heart quicken with nerves.

But I'm putting one foot in front of the other and trusting that it will work out. I've been given a lot of support from friends and family, who remember a similar panic from when I was wrapping up undergrad eight (EIGHT?!) years ago. It's their encouragement that gives me strength, and their advice rings in my ears as I try to just get it done.

Yesterday a client came to my neighborhood to drop off a critical document we needed for deadline. I met her in the parking lot of the convenience store by my house. When I got there, she was standing outside smoking with her sister. As we talked, they both drilled me with questions about the process of getting her immigration relief. How long will she have to wait to hear back? What happens next? Who will guide her through the process? Will my organization still be her attorney after I leave? When can she work? And the hardest question of all: What do I think the outcome of her case will be? I tried to give her the best answers I knew off the top of my head, crafting responses that would make sense with her limited English and that would give her the confidence to be a good witness without creating false expectations about the certainty of a positive outcome.

Then I got the best encouragement I've received so far. My client's sister, who herself has an attorney and has dealt with many through her family, said that I would make a great lawyer. She praised my ability to explain things to them in terms they understood, and said she really appreciated that I hadn't lost sight of her sister's humanity. Really. That's what she said. After we said goodbye, I went back to my apartment smiling. If I get my law degree, and if I become a lawyer, it will be thanks to the inspiration of people like my client's family, and all the immigrant families I've known who have fought to put down roots in their communities, sometimes despite the quite hostile terrain. And in the end, no matter how hard it gets, I'll try to remember that I've got it pretty good.

The last mile

2011-04-25T02:59:00.002-04:00

It's exhausting. But I'm starting to see a faint flicker of light off in the distance. Could it be the end of the tunnel?

I wonder if when it's all over, and I look back at my time in law school, it'll seem like one long fever dream.

Cosby Show quizmaster

2011-04-14T11:03:00.003-04:00

Things I've done to procrastinate in the last 24 hours:
- Baked brownies
- Played Spider Solitaire, sudoku and Klondike
- Read the Wikipedia articles on the entire cast of the Cosby Show
- Sang "I just died in your arms tonight" and "We built this city" on YouTube karaoke
- Updated my other blog and obsessively checked its stats on Google Analytics.
- Scoured Google Maps to get a better understanding of the urban layout of Kingston, Jamaica
- Called lots of landlords about potential apartments
- Napped

I'd say it's been a productive day.

It was a beautiful day.

2011-04-11T23:02:00.003-04:00

Let it be known that today was a beautiful day.
The weather outside was undeniably warm. No question about it.
I wore my brown HM t-shirt with the stripes, and my hot pink sweatshirt.
During Advanced Contracts, I discovered the rumor was true: I do NOT have to have all of my supporting documentation in to the State Bar Examiners by the regular filing deadline (Friday) in order to pay the regular filing fee.
I confirmed that with FSIL on the front steps of the law school building.
Although I spent about six hours in the library doing legal research for a client who is at risk of being deported to a country he doesn't know, where he would more likely than not be killed, I enjoyed the work. This makes me think I might actually like being a lawyer.
My life decisions, if only for a day, have been validated.
Tomorrow I have an appointment to look at a very promising apartment in our neighborhood and price range.
There is a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream and an episode of Steven King's The Stand awaiting me in the living room.
The windows are open and the breeze is blowing through the house and the noises of passing cars are soothing to some deep down part of my soul that was probably born in childhood when I had dreams of living in a big city.
Let it be recalled, it was a beautiful day.

perfect costs as perfect does

2011-04-07T12:06:00.004-04:00

the search is on for our new apartment! t and i have already looked at two this morning. all this thinking about relocating really has me thinking more generally about where we live. essentially, it's the perfect neighborhood, as far as city living goes. it's right in the heart of the city, without being noisy. it's as safe as city living can be. the neighbors are a diverse set of characters: young families, old italians, immigrant workers, all ages and races. within two blocks of my apartment are two grocery stores (including whole foods!), a pet store, two coffee shops, several restaurants/bars, a wine & liquor store, mail supply store, playhouse, bike shop and park. my landlords are on the corner, as is a bus stop. and beyond the immediate vicinity, it takes between 5 and 10 minutes to walk to city hall, to the big shops, the tourist destinations, the subway and train stations. t's walk to work is about 15 minutes. i looked up the walkability score of my address yesterday on walkscore.com. out of 100 points, it scored a 98.

so those are all awesome things about our neighborhood. as you can imagine, it comes with a price that could be easily avoided by moving to a further out neighborhood. there are lots of cool, up-and-coming neighborhoods full of young, creative people doing interesting things, with housing that is significantly cheaper than the housing in our neighborhood. it happened that we really lucked out and it was pure chance that we found our current firetrap through word of mouth before we had even moved to the Big City. we rent from some old-school neighborhood types that don't know about Craigslist and are charging us less than market value. sometimes when i walk through our neighborhood and look at the amazing houses and beautiful street art and famous eateries, i wonder how we ended up here. that's when i start to think we're crazy for trying to get a better deal here in the neighborhood.

we absolutely have to find a larger space, soon. this tiny apartment has been perfect for the three years i've been in law school. if i were honest, i'd say i could continue to live here a little longer and save money, just to keep the location. but we need access to the outside, beyond an open window on the third floor. t routinely talks about wanting a better apartment. and our friends (who have two incomes) live in an awesome place just a block away. so we're searching, and we're putting up more money for it. but a part of me wonders if it's realistic to expect to find the perfect "next step" apartment in our current neighborhood. i also wonder what it says about us that this is where in the city we've chosen to live. we have friends who pay half what we're willing to pay, for much bigger space, in different areas. when people hear where we live, they peg us as yuppies. when i ask around at shops for potential leads in the neighborhood, i get comments about how hard places are to come by here and how expensive they are.

if we can pull this off, it'll be amazing. i just don't want to go broke doing it. oh, exciting times. i can't wait to see where we end up.

zomg i'm almost finished: a freak out

2011-04-04T23:09:00.003-04:00

Today I had the sudden realization that I am going to be finished (FINISHED?!) with law school in a month. I mean, I've known that the end was approaching for quite some time. But this was like an out of body realization. *I* am going to be finished with law school? For real? Didn't I just get here? I still sometimes feel surprised that I ended up being a law student in the first place. I don't *feel* like a law student, much less a lawyer. Yet, as swiftly as it began, it is coming to an end. And I can't shake the feeling that I am getting to resume my life, as if it was on pause for a while or something.

The thought of being a working stiff again sends pleasing shivers down my spine. I remember those joyous, carefree days of putting in a good day's work, coming home to our cozy apartment and sitting on the porch with a PBR and a good book. Or maybe T & I would go out for dinner and watch television at a friend's house. On any given weekend, we'd spontaneously drive out on a scenic back road until we hit the mountains. Wait - am I missing life before law school, or Virginia? I seem to have conflated the two.

The reality is that my post-law school life will probably not look similar to my pre-law school life so much as it will be some other unpredictable permutation of "life over the age of 25" (ha!) or "life from 30 on up" as my blog's sub-title should be renamed soon enough. It's not as if I'll magically relocate to our old apartment with the tilted balcony and temperate winters once I've been handed that sweet, sweet JD. We'll still be in the Big City, at least for now. (Although we will hopefully be out of the firetrap, finally.)

But the scariest part of how different things will be once I have my law degree has nothing to do with my lifestyle, per se, or my housing arrangements or where we live. It has to do with work. What will it look like? Will I screw it up? Being a lawyer is much scarier, it seems like, than being a human resources person or whatever you want to call the kind of professional I was before I left for law school. I mean, just to be allowed to do this job, I have to go digging through my past and confess to every little transgression I may or may not have been caught for. (Hello, six stitches on my chin from a bad night out when I was a junior in college. Come on in, various tickets for expired registration! Long time, no see!) Just today I discovered that I owed my college town a bunch of money in property taxes that I had NO IDEA I even had, for a time when I wasn't even living in the municipality. The joys of LexisNexis Public Records searches and nosy bar examiners. Couldn't I just take the pat down?

Ok, I'm rambling. I mean, I just really want to be a good lawyer, and I really want to do this work. To even get to that point, I need to graduate, successfully complete the APPLICATION for the bar, and then, you know, pass the bar. And then I have the rest of my career as a lawyer to be on my best professional behavior - not procrastinate, not forget a date, not mess up my advice, not commit malpractice. I'm just nervous, ok? I can't believe I got this far. I don't want to screw it up

My favorite coffee shop

2011-03-31T23:13:00.003-04:00

For the last three years, I have gone to the same coffee shop that is one block away from my front door. On good months, I go once a week. On bad months, I go once a day. But I always go. Yesterday, I cashed in my latest buy-eight-get-one-free coffee.

This morning, I was putting on my shoes and glanced at my blackberry to check my email, preparing to saddle up the dog and head over for a caffeine fix before class. The first email I saw was from Best Woman: "Isn't this horrible?" it said. And below that, an article from our local neighborhood bulletin board.

My favorite coffee shop had been robbed that very morning, while one block away, my husband, dog and I slept soundly. Not only that, but one of the baristas, the lovely baristas that I love so much because they are friendly, unpretentious and always remember my order... one of them was brutally sexually assaulted in one of the spacious bathrooms with the automatic light fixtures. It happened around 6:30 a.m. Right around the time they were opening.

Why should I write about this? It's not my trauma. These things happen around big cities every day. More than that. They happen in small cities, in suburbs, in towns across America. It happened in Richmond just before we moved there, to the family that owned our favorite toy store. It was worse, then.

But this is different because these are people I know. It touched my life. Rape. Robbery. Violence. It touched my life, in a way I've been privileged not to know. And more than scared, I am sad and angry. Why did this happen to someone I know? Why did they have to suffer this way, while just a couple hundred yards away, we were so close by? She ran to the convenience store that shares a corner with my apartment, and the guy who works mornings there called the cops. The cops, the news, they responded right away. And for that, this neighborhood is lucky.

I pray for justice, and for healing, and for repentance.

My unconvential search for a way to get paid to do what I love.

2011-03-24T19:40:00.004-04:00

Okay, so I'm starting to get creative with some ideas for what to do after graduation now. Just today a friend of mine forwarded me a Craigslist posting for an immigration firm from another part of the state looking to hire an immigration attorney part-time to represent their clients in the Big City immigration court at Master Calendar Hearings. Duh. I can do that! So I'm not technically an attorney yet (which matters a lot, yeah, yeah) but I could totally market myself out to immigration firms around the state who don't want to make the trek to the big city for something as minor a time-suck as a MCH. Not the most glamorous job in the world, but it could make me some money while I weigh my options, and it beats doc review, from what I've heard.

Another idea floating around in my head that I'm trying to figure out how to put to good use is my serious interest in immigration holds (aka ICE holds, immigration detainers, deportation holds). Check out these immigration attorneys who market themselves to the families of non-citizens who are stuck in jail waiting for federal immigration agents to come take custody:

Here's one in San Diego.
Here's one in Dallas, TX.
Oh! Hello, Virginia Beach, Virginia! This one is in my home state!
And I like this one because it straight up challenges the very legality of immigration holds by ICE attorneys. (Something I have a lot to say about, and wish more of people were examining.)

The point is there are lots of attorneys out there doing what I want to do, and I want to learn how I can get into that field. I'm also surprised and intrigued by the fact that this style of marketing and/or just direct address of the immigration hold problem is not found in my particular area. Let's get on that!

Then there's yet another piece of the puzzle that I'm trying to work into my master plan of supporting myself after graduation. My other blog. I want to rework it, make it more user/search friendly, think about focusing my audience and maybe add some original content about immigration enforcement. Over the three years I've been running that blog, I've certainly seen enough to have a strong sense for the shifts in policy over the last several years. (Hint: Employers and human resources directors everywhere, be on your guard. Specifically those in Southern Missouri, in the immediate future.) It's amazing what you learn just by following the headlines on a semi-regular basis.

Ok, T is back from walking the dog and I need to calm myself down enough to take care of more pressing issues... like completing that pesky bar exam application and working on my research paper. But as I continue my unconventional search for a legal career, I'll keep on posting. Maybe something interesting will turn up. In the meantime, if anyone from any of those law firms ends up on here, I hope you'll consider letting me know. I'd love to talk!

One of these days...

2011-03-15T17:46:00.004-04:00

I'm going to return to updating the blog with some sort of normalcy. But for now, nothing feels very normal, and yet everything feels almost TOO normal. I'm in that weird period of limbo that is referred to as senioritis by high schoolers across America, but in law school is merely summarized by the last part of that overused yet strikingly accurate saying:

First year, they scare you to death.
Second year, they work you to death.
Third year, they bore you to death.

I would so rather be working than thinking about how I'm going to pull together a 30-page paper on truth commissions. I flat out refuse to think about what on earth got into me when I thought it would be a good idea to sign up for Transitional Justice in my last semester and fulfill my writing requirement by doing a paper on something NOT RELATED TO US DOMESTIC LAW when it's taken me 3 years to have even a whiff of understanding of that legal framework. Why did I think I could pull off a research paper on an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT KIND OF "LAW"?

Oh well.

At least I'm getting some amusement out of the fact that the two legal briefs I have to churn out for my clinical (aka actual cases, with real life consequences) seem like a piece of cake, a mere inconvenience. Feels like just a couple of months ago that I was terrified and avoiding my first-year memo. Bwahahaha.

It gets better, 1Ls.

Outside of law school and the slow death of my formal legal education (and our savings, which is now devoted exclusively to surviving the Bar), life appears to be at a standstill. I am knocking off things from my 30 Before 30 list (just about done with Revelation, the end is near!) and fantasizing with T about our next apartment and life with two incomes instead of one. (We're conveniently ignoring the part about how it comes with a giant mass of student loan debt.) I'm trying SO HARD to imagine what my future will look like, all the while knowing that I cannot possibly imagine it. All I know for sure-ish is that it will involve us staying in the Big City, for now, which means for the next year at least, and as far as I'm concerned that's all the future I need to think about right now. I can hardly handle that much.

Can you tell I'm overwhelmed? I'm overwhelmed. On the upside (not that any of the above is necessarily a downside) I am looking forward to a kick-a$$ graduation party!

If not now, when

2011-02-09T23:55:00.004-05:00

I can think of a lot of reasons why I should be nervous right now. Job search. Student loans. Moving out of the firetrap. General anxiety about "The Future" and all that.

Yet I find myself more content, more happy than I've been perhaps since I started law school. I'm learning to accept my life for what it is, rather than what I want it to be. I have no idea what my life will look like six months from now. Why should I? Instead, I'll put my entire focus on making the present count for all it's worth.

Sometime soon, I'll make a more substantive blog entry. For now, I'm off to be with T.

Graduation year! And my first hearing.

2011-02-02T14:16:00.004-05:00

Had my first Master Calendar Hearing today! What an immigration law nerd I am. As I sat in the IJ's courtroom watching the delicate Kuboki dance of discretion between the judge, the government attorney and the client's attorney as the client's attorney argued for a motion to suppress (evidence of an unlawful arrest), I was in AWE. I'm surprised I didn't break out in a grin from ear to ear, or jump up and down and shout, "Ooh! Ooh! What happened? What evidence does the government have to support removability? Why was he arrested???? How long was he in jail on a detainer????????? Huh? HUH?!" Maybe I did do those things and just don't remember.

What I do remember, very clearly, is thinking to myself, "I wish I was doing this for a living already. I want to spend all day here." Oh, fresh meat. I'm such a newbie. I wonder how long it'll take me to burn out on this stuff. But whatever, for the moment, I'm happy to have found something I'm so passionate about and to feel so...at home in what I'm doing.

Heh. That's kind of funny, too because I am at home, when I should be at school. You know. For class? Advanced Contracts? That whole, getting a JD thing? Wow, it's fun being in my last year.

Oh, and one other thing. I'm doing 12 month-long resolutions this year instead of one year-long resolution. Last month I resolved to eat breakfast every day. It seriously changed my life. I can't believe I was going without breakfast for so long! The only thing is that I've started to get sick of eggs, and sometimes french toast doesn't cut it. I'm looking for other suggestions in the breakfast department. February is exercise month. I have resolved to exercise for half an hour (or run/walk one mile) every day. This is going to be a serious challenge, to the point that I wonder if I should even mention it on here. But there I go. Exercise month! Resolution year! Graduation year! Sweet.

Thundersnow, ho!

2011-01-27T12:48:00.002-05:00

Oh Big City snow, I'm so over you. It's hard to believe that I'm in my third year living in this place. I remember when I first started this blog we were still deciding whether to stay in Richmond or move. Hell, we were considering moving southwest instead of northeast. And now it's just another day of snow boots. Not that Northern VA has fared any better. (Worse, actually, from what I hear.)

But tonight is the night of the D Plan show, and we've got an old friend from college coming in to town for the weekend, and pretty much the entire city has declared it a snow day despite the fact that classes aren't cancelled and offices aren't closed. It's just an air of festivity.

I'm doing some pro bono work for an immigration attorney that I know through my extracurriculars. (Note to aspiring law students: law review and moot court aren't the only extracurriculars out there. Volunteering leads to leads!) So I should probably pull on the snow boots, wrangle up the dog-horse and make my way over to the coffee shop and get down to business before my friend's train gets in. Wahoo!

The JE Guide to Life gets rich!

2011-01-24T16:34:00.006-05:00

And sometimes that music drifts through my car
On a spring night when anything is possible
And I close my eyes and I nod my head
And I wonder how you been and I count to a hundred and ten
Because you’ll always be my hero, even if I never see you again
- The Dismemberment Plan, "Back and Forth"

On Thursday, the Dismemberment Plan is playing in the Big City. One of my favorite bands from my late teens and early twenties, the Plan was awesome, danceable indie rock of the kind that cannot be described, merely listened to. Or maybe I just am not the one to describe. But listen, seriously, I promise you'll like it.

Anyway, they are playing here on Thursday, after having played a couple of big reunion shows in their (and my) hometown of DC. Although I eschew reunion shows as a hard and firm rule (including, and especially, my most teen-angsty favorite band of all time, the Smashing Pumpkins) this is The One True Exception. Even six years ago, when they apparently played a 2005 reunion show as a benefit in DC, I didn't have the heart to come out and dance on the Dismemberment Plan stage again. But now is a different time. I am a different me.

I am, of course, the person I am today because of everything that I was in the time leading up to this moment. I once heard that people change their fundamental personalities every 10 years. Not that I believe it, but I see the general point. We evolve and grow as people, and it should be that way. But do we owe anything to our former selves? Do I owe it to my 20-year old self to go out to a concert on a Thursday night and dance along to music that moved me so fervently 10 years ago, but that I rarely listen to anymore? (Although when I do, I am still transported to that happy place at the side of the main stage at the Black Cat wearing a Salvation Army t-shirt and bright pink hat.)

Am I driven to see the Dismemberment Plan out of some allegiance or some desperate reach for my younger self, or is this something that almost-30 year old me wants to do for herself? The reason I don't usually go to reunion concerts is because I'm usually interested in letting bygones stay that way. In this case, I think I'm doing this for the me of Now. And I don't think I'm the only one.

In reading Facebook posts and Tweets and all sorts of other social media updates I've been watching my friends that are still in the DC area going through their own Dismemberment Plan revivals. Hell, just reading band interviews it's been pretty clear that the band is deliberately reliving its past from a very different place. Everyone in the band has "real jobs" and nobody is trying (as of yet... supposedly) to turn this into a new career. Just like all my college friends and I have moved on in our lives from that time when we would drive up on school nights, park somewhere on 14th St. and wolf down seitan burgers at Food For Thought before the first band came on stage, getting back to the dorms at somewhere past 2 am to stumble into bedrooms darkened by our already sleeping roommates.

It's a different place in life for all of us. Some of my friends are parents. Some of them are highly specialized and extremely well-paid careerists. Some are both. Some live in communal houses in the city, work day jobs in social services and play in bands at night. Some teach high schoolers, college kids. Some are working behind bars or counters. Some have supported their parents through the end of life. Who knows where we'll be in another ten years. We're just getting through our twenties.

So I guess this D Plan show is kind of a reunion of sorts. Even though I'm not getting to go with all the same people I used to dance with, and even though my self-consciousness will probably be uncomfortably palpable, I am looking forward to reconnecting with a feeling that isn't (yet) anchored in age. The joy of possibility. I was about 19 or 20 when I went to see a Plan show with my friend K, a decidedly anti-scenester (that's what we used to call hipsters) non-indie-rock loving friend who simply agreed to accompany me, probably out of boredom. At the end of the night, even he was smiling at the unselfconsciousness of the dancing, the fun and excitement that radiated from the band, the music and the audience. If this show fails to replicate that moment, I won't be surprised. But that's okay, because when I turn on my iPod and listen to The City, I feel thrilled for who I was at the beginning of my twenties, and excited for what my thirties are going to be. In a way, maybe, it's letting go of the past and acknowledging that even this moment is the brink of a new era. Who knows how I'll look back on it. Right now, I'm just feeling ready to embrace it.

We exhaust ourselves trying to get there.
- The Dismemberment Plan, "Back and Forth"

Checking in

2011-01-03T20:47:00.000-05:00

We are here. We are safe. And we are having fun.

To be continued...

Just kicked in

2010-12-23T01:36:00.003-05:00

The excitement! Oh, the excitement!

In less than 24 hours, we will be outta here. I love the Big City and all, but it's time to bust out and have some winter fun. We're going down to the Eastern Shore for a T Family Christmas in a rental house on the bay (I think?) in Maryland. It'll be T's family - parents, aunts, uncles and cousins - no kids yet. So lots of drinking, eating and general hanging out, spanning time.

After a few days with the T Fam, we move on to my parents' house for one night of FAST catching up with my parents, brother and sister, 3 nieces (in town on the one holiday that I'm not there!) and cousin, aunt, etc. It'll be a lot of socializing in a little time, though, because on Monday morning, we fly...to Colombia!

Two weeks in Colombia. As usual, I tentatively think I might have some kind of clue what to expect, while simultaneously feeling sure that I have no idea whatsoever what to expect. I do know that despite every logical part of my brain being convinced otherwise, we will be in HOT weather. So I am forcing myself to pack shorts, tank tops, flip flops even. And a swim suit, if I can find it.

In Colombia, we'll see lots of relatives I've long wanted to introduce to T. And I'll get to show him my family's home in Purificacion where my dad and grandmother were born, and where my great aunts and uncle still live. And for the first time ever, we'll get to do some exploring outside the realms of family. I just can't wait.

We'll fly back on January 9th, the Sunday before my last semester of law school (si Dios quiere) and then resume normal life again, which by then, I suspect, we'll be more than happy to do.

Hooray! Merry Christmas! Happy new year, ya'll!

The future, in terms both long and short.

2010-12-20T18:29:00.003-05:00

It's been so long since I've updated, especially with anything beyond "Oh, it's finals. Life sucks." So long, in fact, that I don't really feel like updating now.

But update I will. For posterity, as always.

Finals ended on Friday, and it's Monday today. So really, it's only been a few days since my semester ended, but it already feels like an eternity ago. Immediately after my last final (4:30 pm on a Friday... fun!) I grabbed a couple law school buddies and we met up with T who was having his holiday party after-party at a bar downtown. That led to more drinks, two pizzas, some fries and a homemade sausage sandwich, all consumed at various stops between the first bar and my apartment. I wound up at home several hours later, quite full, slightly tipsy and very ready for sleep.

Saturday consisted of watching old Christmas cartoon classics (the lesser-known, racist ones, because that's all they had on Netflix Instant Watch) while I purged my study nook of all my old notebooks, outlines, books and assorted papers. I also managed to purge my closet, which started out at the beginning of the semester looking so neat and tidy, but ended up the apparent victim of a deadly tornado. After throwing every single shirt, suit jacket and dirty sock onto the bed, I sorted clothes into "trash", "giveaway" and "keep" and then stopped, leaving the tornado debris all over the room. Hah. Finishing projects is not one of my strengths.

We went on a date Saturday night, though, which was awesome. T had brought a bottle of wine home a few days ago, which I stared at longingly for the last 3 days of studying, having realized that I absolutely cannot be productive if I've had a glass of merlot. T, the wine and I made up the street to a BYO thai restaurant, where the waiter immediately whisked the bottle away to be opened, only to return moments later with the cap unscrewed. "Didn't realize this was screw-top," he said, as we all looked down and laughed awkwardly.

And speaking of awkward, the post-finals reconnection is always a little awkward, because I've basically spent the last three weeks ignoring T while he goes about his business and I sink into a pit of despair and self-pity out of which I refuse to be helped. All of a sudden, with finals over, I'm ready to return to our amazing marriage, our passionate love and fond affection for one another, and I'm inevitably frustrated that life is not immediately back to normal, my husband isn't attentive to my every need and our conversation doesn't flow the way I remember it. It takes time to cultivate the closeness that I've shrugged off for the entire last month of school. And that is why our Saturday night date, despite my initial misgivings, was so lovely.

After dinner, wine and dessert, we made our way uptown to a local art theater to see Tiny Furniture. I could write a whole other blog post about why I thought Tiny Furniture was awesome. But suffice it to say that there aren't enough movies told from the point of view of a 22-year old normal-sized girl who isn't sure why she's living with her parents or working at a restaurant after having just earned a college degree, but is pretty sure that's okay for now and the answer isn't about finding the right guy or getting a makeover. I highly recommend it, and I'll leave it at that.

So anyway, after Saturday, the rest of the weekend (aka Sunday) was just a bunch of me and T poking around the house, planning for our upcoming trips, alternating between getting things done (me: put the clothes away, t: pack orders) and laying around (me: listen to savage love podcasts, t: nap). We went over to our friends' house to eat dinner and watch more old Christmas movies, came home and went to bed.

Where does that leave me?

Well, pretty much trying to fight off a sinus infection and avoid the freezing, freezing death cold of the Big City, while continuing to be semi-productive in planning for my future, in terms both short and long. (Short: trip to T's family's rental house for Xmas, then 2 weeks in Colombia. Long: another college graduation that may or may not lead to a paying job.) I'm putting together a homemade Christmas present for everyone in my life, and telling myself that is a form of productivity. And I'm carefully spacing out my consumption of Tylenol Head Congestion pills and Theraflu Warming Elixer (or whatever it's call). And forcing myself to update my blog.

Thanks, God

2010-12-13T11:38:00.002-05:00

I prayed for calm last night. Lately my body feels like it's falling apart: persistent leg pain, chest tightness, crampiness, sporadic sinus problems, increasing waistline, exhaustion. While there's no doubt that I need to see a doctor for a physical soon, as it's been a while, I know myself well enough to believe that many of these symptoms are stress related.

I've been reading through the New Testament, as that's part of my 30 Before 30 list. I know I've mentioned it from time to time here. A while back, I read something where Paul was exhorting one of the many churches he wrote to that they should pray often and ask God for many things, as that was a testament to their faith. (Something like that. I'm paraphrasing.) I'm past that book, whichever one it was, and on to Timothy (Timothy 5 last night - with a lot of instructions on how to deal with widows in the church). But anyway... I read Timothy 5 and then turned off the light, and realized that it was going to be another night of struggling to breath deeply and fall asleep. So I prayed for calm.

I feel better this morning. I usually do after nights like that. I have a takehome exam due at 8 o'clock tonight and then it's cramming the absolute last bit of knowledge I can stuff into my brain about federal courts (hopefully I have room for half a syllabus) before my Wednesday exam. And then, finally, my Human Rights exam on Friday, which I'm just throwing my hands up in the air for and hoping that my past knowledge about human rights and international law will help me somewhat. So it's gonna be a crazy week. But I know that I can do it.

I tend to be my own worst enemy, playing around on the computer to the last minute, feeling sorry for myself for not doing anything while actively choosing not to do anything, etc. But today, I've done more in the first three hours of the day than I did any other morning over the last two weeks. And I'm not too terribly worried about these exams. So, thank you God, for listening to my prayer and helping me through this little hump.

My struggle

2010-12-10T17:22:00.003-05:00

Other law students in my classes have a serious advantage on me this semester. It all comes down to my struggle: inability to focus. This is serious. I stare my computer for hours, wasting away time playing WordTwist or obsessively scouring facebook for new or missed updates from people I haven't spoken to in years. I read about feminism and racism and chat with Fox News readers in the comments section of the DREAM Act articles. (My new nickname, which I like to think of as a term of endearment: "Troll.")

What I don't do is work. I should be either (a) outlining for my two remaining seated exams or (b) completing my take-home exam due on Monday night. On any given day, however, I spend anywhere from 2-4 total hours doing actual, honest-to-God work. On days that I don't have something due the next morning, that number hovers around 2. And it's inexcusable given that I have the entire day to get work done.

This isn't some cheery, "oh, you know LAW SCHOOL" post about how annoying this work is and how much of it there is. This is a real struggle that I'm dealing with. I'm so proud of myself when I get twenty minutes of work done that I take the next hour off, which inevitably ends up in me getting into something that distracts me until dinnertime or some other clear break in the day.

The thing is that I'm smart. I know that I am. I'm very capable of learning new and complex concepts and I learn them well under pressure. But it's a razor-thin line between "works well under pressure" and "waited to the last minute and paid for it." I'm pretty good at walking that line, but I can be clumsy. And even when I gracefully tip-toe my way to firmer ground, it's a nerve-wracking and time-consuming experience. And I can't help but wonder how I'd do if I wasn't constantly fighting this internal battle.

Some of this may just be an innate difficulty concentrating. Some of it may have to do with poor time management, and the desne reading material. Some of it may have to do with my resentment of law school, a passive-aggressive refusal to take this all seriously. Some of this is probably burnout. And some of this problem may even harken back to childhood, a regressive re-experiencing of the pressure that was placed upon me as "the Smart One" in my family at a very young age. Some of this all may be excuses. I suspect all of the above are true, to some degree.

All I know is that the longer I sit here distracting myself, the worse I feel. And the madder I get that it's another Friday night, another one of a limited number of weekends in my life that will be dedicated to this struggle. I feel like I'm missing out on life, and that, for me, is the hardest part of law school. Even as a 3L.

Si Dios quiere

2010-12-02T11:00:00.004-05:00

Yeah, so I failed at the NaBloPoMo. But hey, at least I tried. Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get to try again next year and do even better. Si Dios quiere. Si Dios quiere. God willing. That's something my relatives in Colombia say all the time. Most people I know from Latin America say that. It makes me realize how often I speak about the future as if it's a given, as if it's entirely up to me whether or not something will happen. And then I remember that it's not, and it's not. So.

Anyway, lots has been going on up in this little firetrap apartment. For one, we bought tickets to go to Colombia. We meaning me and T. For the first time EVER, T is going to Colombia, and I am going with the love of my life! I've never gone to Colombia with anyone else, although the last time I was there (last summer, for a weekend), my brother was there too. The first time I went to Colombia was the summer before my senior year of college, and I remember riding in a bus around the lurching curves of the Pan-American Highway, descending into the piping hot valley just under the devil's nose (literally, "La Nariz del Diablo"). I was thinking about my friends from college, daydreaming of the day that I'd get to bring one of them with me and show off this amazing place. Funnily enough, I hadn't even met the boy I was dreaming of taking yet. That wouldn't be for another couple months.

But back to it. We got our tickets, and we're going for two weeks, just after Christmas and extending into the new year. We had our usual argument that happens every time we buy tickets to go anywhere: "Let's come back Monday!" "No, we should come back Friday." "No! Monday!" "No! Friday!" And so on and so forth. (See Last Year, Trip to Denver.) Argument ensued. Mistakes were made. Apologies offered and accepted. Sheepish looks exchanged. And now we're done.

In other news, finals. I'm slightly better off this semester than last, in that I knew the last week of classes was happening before we were halfway through it. And because I did reading for more of the semester than I didn't. Rough estimate. But the night insomnia and anxiety are kicking into high gear as the first exam approaches (Monday) and my outline is looking smaller and smaller the larger the test day looms before me. I just can't wait to be done.

Thanksgiving was good. Quiet. The best parts were hanging with my parents for several days in a row, and getting together with all my friends from high school for the first time in ages. (My wedding doesn't count, because I didn't get to hang with them. Plus not everyone was there.)

Now I'm just rambling. Can you guess why? Time to stop putting off blowdrying my hair, walking the dog and gathering my books. Time to get to it. In just a couple of weeks, I'll be past this and on to the job search. Si Dios quiere.

NaBloPoMo (Friendsgiving edition)

2010-11-21T01:37:00.002-05:00

We had Friendsgiving tonight. It's the third year in a row that Best Man and Best Woman have hosted a bunch of friends (starting with just three, now grown to about 10) at their place for a potluck the weekend before Thanksgiving. It was nice.

Last night, T and I stayed in and baked cookies, roasted veggies for dinner and watched Mad Men. One of the best weekend nights I've had in a long time. Hell, this week has been one of the best weeks I've had in a long time. Why? Because I stayed in a lot, took care of myself, tried to focus on school, went on a genuine date with T, had drinks with friends from school and talked to my best friend on the phone. All in all, the days have weighed in on the positive side.

NaBloPoMo (flashback edition)

2010-11-19T18:20:00.005-05:00

Who am I? Well, if this helps figure me out at all, I was this girl on November 18th, 2002. (Sorry, I didn't write anything on November 19th of that year.)

Take a trip with me, will you, down memory lane... The first months of dating T, my last year of college, a simultaneously simpler and scarier time...

Monday, 11/18/02

Meteor shower tonight. T stayed up with me in [the school computer lab] while I did internet research for a big debate against the war on Iraq I am doing with the Human Rights Club tomorrow. It was 4 a.m. when we stepped outside into the sharp freezing cold, the first one of its kind all season. We were about to go separate ways, too tired and cold to watch the sky. But staring up a moment, we saw how clearly the heavens towered over us. Each star stood otu perfectly, the moon a bright white sphere looming over the treetops and sleeping houses. I heard T breathe in sharply. He saw a shooting star, and I had missedit. "We aren't going until you see one," he told me. "You're looking the wrong way." Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he turned me around, my back against his chest, and wrapped his arms in an embrace across my chest. Jigsaw puzzle. We fit perfectly, my teeth chattering and shoulders shivering, faces turned upward toward the darkness. I never saw a meteor pass. We became too cold, too tired, and happy enough here on the ground to let this one go, I walked away from the moment.

When I got home, I saw two meteors on my porch. My wishes were:
1) [Wish #1]
2) [Wish #2]

Really, I want T and I to be together forever sometimes. I do? Maybe.

NaBloPoMo (friendship edition)

2010-11-18T10:37:00.006-05:00

I had time to kill yesterday, so I went to the downtown Borders Books. Borders is one of my favorite places to spend an afternoon, and it has been ever since the only bookstore I knew was in downtown DC. My dad would sometimes drive us into the city on weekends, take us to the business district and point out all the neat places he remembered from when he used to work in the area. Inevitably, we would end up at Borders, which at the time was this unheard-of idea for a bookstore: a place with comfy chairs and coffee and nobody hovering over your shoulder expecting you to buy something. We would spend hours there. After a Borders and a Barnes & Nobles both opened up near our house, we stopped going into the city as much. We called those places "the library".

So yesterday I was up in a corner of the Big City's Borders, which sits right in the thick of everything, and I was curled up in a corner on the second floor, next to the ceiling-to-floor windows that overlooked the scurrying pedestrians and hot dog vendors. I spent two hours reading a book called Toxic Friends: The Antidote for Women Stuck in Complicated Relationships. As per my usual method of browsing and reading, I had picked up the book, along with a large stack of others, from the Psychology/Self-Help section that always seems to beckon my narcissistic self. Since it was my first find, I started in on it first. And never moved on.

I've been thinking a lot about friendships lately. I had one friend from school whose friendship might be fairly described as contentious. This friend was a guy, but not that kind of guy friend. Just a kind of easy to hang out with dude who always seemed to be available for lunch or drinks and was one of several in a circle of friends I've made at school. He was nothing like me in most ways - his political beliefs were undeveloped but ran conservative, and he was quick to make offensive jokes. He also came across like an asshole to most people, at least at first glance. But he was friendly in his teasing about my six highlighters that I used to highlight class notes during Crim our first semester, and didn't seem to draw the distinction between me and our younger, more sociable section-mates that I had mentally drawn for myself. So I liked him and we hit it off. On the other hand, T was never a fan of this guy, mainly because I have a history of making friends with jerks, and probably because he suspected this friend's motives (which I didn't otherwise I wouldn't have been friends with him). Yet we remained friends for the first two years of law school, traveling as we did in the same circles.

Long story short, I "broke up" with him as a friend because of something he did that pissed me off and crossed a boundary. But more than feeling pissed off at what he did, I have also felt pissed off that he ruined what I thought was a good friendship. It hurts, maybe as much because I should've seen it coming as because it happened at all. I'm mad at myself for letting myself become friends, once again, with someone who isn't looking out for my best interests. And that is, perhaps, why I found myself relating best with the The Sacrificer.

Sacrificers, according to this book, are those who put their heart and soul into a friendship, in an attempt to develop closeness. They often feel shortchanged when their friends prove not to be as dedicated. It's not the same as a martyr ("The Doormat") who constantly suppresses her own needs and wants in order to avoid conflict and go along in the name of friendship. But it definitely involves a great potential for power imbalance and letdown that isn't necessarily due to the other friend being "bad" but simply not living up to one's expectations. Sacrificers are often quick to move on from friendships that don't pay off.

The book helped me to understand why I felt so pissed off at this friend - it's because I thought we were friends who were considerate of one another, and it turns out he didn't feel the same, or at least not in the same way I did. It wasn't worth it for me to talk it out with him, but it still leaves me feeling shortchanged. I go through this transaction countless times on a smaller scale. I make acquaintances with someone, get excited about potential friendship, and then start to feel like I've invested way too much too soon and realize that the other person isn't as emotionally invested. Then I back off. Move on.

It's the backing off part that I am struggling with: when to do it and when not to. I frequently don't back off soon enough. I'll hang on to someone as a friend long after it's become clear that they aren't good for me in one way or another. See supra. And other times, I'll back off far too soon, misinterpreting a tone of voice as disinterest or an awkward conversation as incompatibility, never giving the friendship a chance. Occasionally, I get lucky and talk myself out of writing someone off just long enough to see that it's a friendship worth continuing to hang onto. And then being right about it.

Everyone says that friendship is like dating. What a cliche. How true. T and I had a long conversation about it last night, during our fantastic dinner date. We were talking about the differences between guy friendships, girl friendships and guy-girl friendships. As we sat and talked about it, between sips of wine and covert laughs about the bizarre wait staff, I looked across the table at him and wondered: how did I land this amazing friend? At the end of the day, I know that I am capable of making genuine friendships with some people, because I have a couple already. If they're all the friends I ever end up with, that's okay because they're all I really need. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying. I really want to get better at this friendship thing. But part of getting better might mean investing more in the people who have already shown that they care. It makes me think I have some phone calls to make.

NaBloPoMo (make-up edition)

2010-11-16T22:49:00.003-05:00

* My dog is uncontrollably itchy, and has been for weeks. I don't know what to do, and he appears miserable. It's not fleas. Do I need to take him to the vet?

* Watching Love in the Time of Cholera makes me wonder why American directors continually butcher Latino characters and repeatedly miscast Benjamin Bratt and John Leguizamo as the Everyhombres. But it also makes me really, really, really, REALLY ready to go back to Colombia.

* I tried something new at school today. In the two hours between classes that I usually spend freaking out about what to do and wind up doing nothing productive, I paused and envisioned myself sitting in a library carrel with my Fed Courts book, studying. After taking just a few moments to mindfully picture myself actually studying, I miraculously found myself walking to a library carrel and opening up my Fed Courts book. It occurred to me that most of the time I'm fretting about studying, I'm not actually committed to actually studying. The More You Know!

* T and I have a date night planned for tomorrow. I can not wait. We really need some catch-up time. It's been nice taking it slow this week, and spanning time together.

* Human Rights casebook and I have a date for tonight. Exciting action happening in my bed in about five minutes. I have to close my eyes and visualize it first though, if I want to make it happen. So, if you'll excuse me...

NaBloPoMo (I haven't blowdryed my hair and it's almost 10 o'clock edition)

2010-11-16T09:49:00.002-05:00

Whoops... I'm a little behind here. Bear with me, I'll probably post again later today. I know, I know. You're waiting with bated breath.

For now, I'm super late to my clinical.

NaBloPoMo (blackjack edition)

2010-11-13T18:24:00.002-05:00

~~27) Play blackjack in a casino~~

Sweet!

My bro and I took a bus to Atlantic City yesterday. It was so much fun. And yes, after writing about being depressed, and drinking, and being generally unhealthy, gambling sure does seem like a step in the wrong direction. Haha. But for real, it was something we'd been trying to do all week, and playing a table game at a casino was on my 30 Before 30 list. So there were good, non-self-destructive reasons for going.

And I'm glad we did. Because I started with $20 in my pocket, spent $5 on food, and ended up with $65 in cash on the busride back. My brother and I really just pooled all our money together, a whopping total of $80. But we wound up with nearly $300, which is some pretty good beginner's luck, if you ask me! (Although JC is no beginner.. apparently he played a lot in the casinos around Denver, and got pretty good on one piece of advice about craps - bet on the 6.)

So now I am addicted to craps, feel dangerously confident about my ability to play blackjack, am still amazed that you can order any drink you want and it's free, and will definitely be going back to the AC with T for a date night sometime. (T is in VA this weekend. I stayed behind to catch up on school work.)

Incidentally, I did get my P this morning (TMI or whatever), and I do feel somewhat better today. But I'm also still quite concerned about things I need to change about my lifestyle, and about my mental health in general, and looking forward to having a quiet house again next week, so I can catch up with T and we can make a game plan for improvements in our routine.

NaBloPoMo (depression edition)

2010-11-12T15:13:00.004-05:00

Depression creeps up on you. Depression is like someone poisoning your food, a little at a time, so you don't realize you're getting sick, you think you're just having an "off" day. You're tired a lot. Little by little your mind is shutting down. You go numb.

I'm at a point where I don't know and don't care if it's something to do with the medication or my cycle or what. Does it matter why I'm depressed? Is there even a reason? My period could come tomorrow and I might feel completely different about my life. I feel guilty about the fact that I have a loving husband, that I'm healthy, that I have so much, and yet I am unsatisfied. There's another symptom. Guilt. It doesn't really matter. All I know is that I fell asleep in a library chair at school yesterday, after getting 10 hours of sleep the night before because I'd fallen asleep in all my clothes at 10 p.m. And then I remembered.

There was another chair I used to fall asleep in. It was a red chair. It sat in the corner of the room where I used to watch kids at a homeless shelter. That was my first job out of college. I was depressed then. And when the kids had naptime, I would sit in that chair without the energy to do anything else. I would doze to escape my thoughts. Sitting in that library chair yesterday, dozing, not caring what time it was or whether I was late to class, I remembered that I have been here before.

Drinking is one way to ignore depression. To stave it off. There are other ways. Sleeping. Watching TV. Working late. Distractions come in all forms. The thing about drinking is that it's a double edged sword. You can ignore things to a point, and then the floodgates are opened. Once your inhibitions are gone and you start talking, it all comes flooding out. And it's ugly.

Depression thoughts are ugly, as a rule, and I hate them. I hate to look at them. But once you let them out, you have to look at them. Once you share them with someone, they're hard to ignore. And then all you can do is muddle through it. If you're going through hell, keep on moving, right? This isn't hell. But it's an unpleasant place to be.

NaBloPoMo (this edition)

2010-11-11T18:31:00.000-05:00

you’re privileged if you can discuss rape and violence and anti-gay slurs as if they exist in a dark, secret corner of humanity, and they aren’t something that people deal with every day

this.

NaBloPoMo (overwhelmed procrastinator edition)

2010-11-10T15:45:00.004-05:00

Is this why law students drink so much?

Right now I have the following concerns running through my head:
- I need to read, like, the entire textbook for Human Rights. I really should get on that.
- I've only outlined the first day of class for Crim Pro. Need to catch up. I really should get on that.
- What happened? I was doing good in Fed Courts but I'm so lost now, I can't make myself open the casebook. I really should get on that.
- I can't believe I didn't even know my ADR professor's name so I could get her exams from the library. I really should get on that.
- This fellowship ain't coming through. I need to start applying for jobs. I really should get on that.
- If I want to do deportation defense, I have to stop lurking around the offices of the clinic attorneys that I admire and actually initiate conversations. I really should get on that.
- Wasn't the State of Virginia trying to audit my taxes from 2005. I was supposed to follow up. I really should get on that.
- Running low on cash, but somehow I've gotta find some gas money so I can take my brother to Atlantic City on Friday. I really should get on that.
- Where are all my friends? It's been too long since I called my BFF and I feel like I never talk to anyone anymore. I really should get on that.
- I can't believe how many days I forgot to take my Prozac before remembering this morning. Plus, I don't have a doctor's appointment for when prescription refills run out. I really should get on that.

Man, I could use a drink. I really should get on that.

NaBloPoMo (Freaked-out 3L edition)

2010-11-08T22:20:00.002-05:00

I just need an angel investor. Someone who will pay me a salary while I go around representing immigrants in deportation proceedings. I feel like a fool and an incompetent today. I've spent my whole legal career expecting that if I just want it enough I will find a way to get paid to do what I want. And now I see that it's either not likely or not recommended. I'm not supposed to go straight out and start practicing the law on my own. So I have to find an employer. None of the legal services organizations can afford to hire me. And I just got rejected for the fellowship I had the best chance of getting. So that leaves firm jobs. And that's okay. I'm not opposed on principle to working at a firm. It's just that if I had really expected to be applying to those places all along, maybe I would've put more effort into doing the things that make firm hiring attorneys want to hire you. And maybe I would've deigned to do OCI, or at least tried to get an interview. So now I'm just having a little freakout while my brother is here and I don't feel like I can get anything productive done about this mini-panic. I know this is going to take some focus, some elbow grease and some printer ink. And stamps. Lots of stamps. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

NaBloPoMo (bitchin' edition)

2010-11-07T21:31:00.005-05:00

Things that drive me effing CRAZY:

- When my dude friends think that it's cool to make frat jokes because they're not in a frat. Newsflash: Nobody but you and your other dude friends (and maybe not even them) care about whether you think your best friend's sister is hot enough to have sex with. The girl who just walked by wearing a dress definitely does not care what you think about her appearance in said dress. And your insistence on referring to the attractiveness and/or "sluttiness" of every female public figure does in fact perpetuate the idea that women's value comes from their attractiveness and/or willingness to fit into the traditional female roles of madonna (pure mothering "good girl") and the whore (hot, sexy "bad girl") and not from their ideas, accomplishments and non-sexual skills. Quit calling yourself goddamn progressives when you're relying on the same damn concepts that have kept women as second class citizens for generations, the same damn concepts that continue to keep women in so many parts of the world as the property of their fathers and brothers and husbands. Just...don't. Or if you do, don't waste your breath telling me how "wrong" I am when I object to your fallacious flip ("women do it to us, too!"). And if you want to talk about how it's just "biology" so it's naive to get upset at your incessant chatter about the sex life or sexual value of this or that famous female, just stfu. And p.s. if you think you aren't getting manipulated by mass media into making sex the focal point of your evaluations of women, you are deluding yourself. And most of all, please don't bother speaking up about gay bullying when you are the first to comment on how slutty girls dress these days. You're only a few steps away from blaming the woman who dressed too provocatively for havin to pay for her rape kit.

p.s. I hope you all have daughters.

- Law students who think that because they're talking to another law student who (a) isn't at a Top 10 law school, (b) wasn't on law review and/or (c) hasn't got a job lined up in Big Law, they must be smarter, better and more deserving of their lot. It's bad enough that employers do this. I don't need it from some smug kid who hasn't even passed the bar yet. Not everyone places their priorities on the same things. It's about damn time law school recognized that.

NaBloPoMo (my brother's edition)

2010-11-05T18:06:00.003-04:00

Well, I guess I'll catch up at some point in here...

My bro got here yesterday! When I got out of class at the ungodly hour of 9 p.m. and made my way back to the apartment, there he was, chillin with T and our friend A. They were squeezed into our little living room, gathered around the TV, which was playing a video loop of a fireplace. How cozy.

JC isn't sure if he's going to be staying on the East Coast or not, but I sure hope he does. To that end, I have managed to get him a little paid gig for next week! And by "get" it, I mean that I happened to come across an email last night from the law school, which was looking for people to videotape some training going on all next week. Since JC studied...videotaping (ha)... he's already got the job!

The best part of having him here is that I have another fun partner in crime to do things around the city with. He's generally up for whatever, whether it's kicking my butt in Bananagrams, going to karaoke or taking an impromptu trip to a casino. Hopefully, all three of these things will happen while he's here. He's only been to visit us in the Big City once before, and that was terrible and terribly brief timing. This time, he'll be here for about a week. Plenty of time to get into fun.

NaBloPoMo (the belated edition)

2010-11-04T09:32:00.002-04:00

I meant to write something yesterday and never did. Probably because I was too busy creating To-Do lists with things like "watch 1 episode of Mad Men" and "print out Human Rights reading for tomorrow" (note: not "READ Human Rights reading for tomorrow"). In any case, I remembered about NaBloPoMo last night/this morning at around 2 a.m. when I couldn't fall asleep and was obsessively playing Texas Hold 'Em on my Blackberry while holding it under the covers so the light wouldn't keep T up. I decided to write this post in the AM and write a second NaBloPoMo in the afternoon/evening. I'm looking forward to today because my bro-bro gets into town for a visit! It's only the second time he's been to the Big City, but the first time he came was right before the start of Spring semester of my first year of school. I was not exactly the best hostess, on account of I was extremely sulky over having to go back to being scared to death. Ha! Memories...

Anyway, until this afternoon!

NaBloPoMo (having a drink with a friend)

2010-11-02T21:41:00.004-04:00

A while ago I wrote about how my friend came out at our Halfway to JD party, in a drunken admission calculated to make the rest of us feel like we'd missed something obvious the whole time. Which of course, some of us had.

Anyway, I just got back from the bar where I had drinks with said law school friend and talked about trivial gossip. I regaled him with tales of this past weekend's Laguna Beach excursion. He told me about the people he's been seeing and the people he's been trying to avoid. I told him about my nascent plans to hang my own shingle after graduation. He regaled me with tales of his interviews with "the other side" (a.k.a. government immigration attorneys).

It was the kind of inconsequential chatter that I've been missing a lot of lately. And since this is NaBloPoMo and I am making a greater effort to document a bit from each day of my life for the next month, I'm happy to have this down on record: I do have friends, even if they are casual acquaintances. These kinds of evenings recharge my batteries and make me happy to come home and settle in with a casebook and a cup of tea. It's just nice to be around people.

NaBloPoMo, yo (spray tan edition)

2010-11-01T21:28:00.003-04:00

Yep, I'm gonna do it. Or try at least. Na(tional)Blo(g)Po(st)Mo(nth), here I come!

So what should I talk about to get started? How about spray tanning! After all, it was #28 on my 30 Before 30 list...

Ten Tips and Fun Facts About Spray Tanning:
1. That sh*t is cold! You are basically signing up to have your bare body sprayed down with something that feels like liquid oxygen: smoky, freezing and damp. Just so you know.

2. Wear baggy, old clothes that cover up as much skin as possible. Why? Because there are two ways to really mess up a newly spray-tanned body: allowing skin to touch skin and allowing rain to touch skin. Both of these things can be avoided with "modest" clothing. Guess which of these two spray tan newbie errors happened to me? Both! You can figure out why I suggest baggy and old, right?

3. Invest in Dove or Ivory Original Formula soap bars. That's what the lady told me anyway, and since she has won many awards for her spray tan expertise (or at least that's what she told me several times), I trust her. According to Lady, any other kind of soap with smelly fragrances and special formulas can do "funny things" to your tan.

4. If you don't moisturize already (I don't), be prepared to start. Because spray tan gunk will dry that skin out! And apparently that skin gets blotchy faster if you don't moisturize on the regular.

5. You will look like Pig Pen from Peanuts for the first day or so. Until you are allowed to shower, you pretty much just look super dirty and shiny, as if you've been walking through a dust storm that has somehow caused your face to look ultra greasy. It goes away.

6. Droplets of rain that fall down your arm, touch the tops of your feet or drip across your chest will not go away. But they will fade. And look like stretch marks. See #2.

7. Day #2 is the Oompa-Loompiest day. I found myself looking the most orange on the first full day after my tan, once I had showered and the actual tan had started to "come in." On the plus side, my teeth appeared ultra-shiny white!

8. Day #4 is your best day. Which is why if you are getting tanned for a Saturday event, I recommend doing the tan on a Wednesday. On Saturday my skin was the color of perfectly golden toasted marshmallow. (Right down to the puffiness, but that's no fault of the spray tan.) I'll admit it: I looked pretty damn good!

9. You can get creative with tan lines. The first question my tanning lady asked me when we got into the room was whether I wanted to tan nude. That was her suggestion, but I decided against it, opting instead for a cute pair of undies that I never wear because they are...uncomfortable. However, they made for a great tan line, so I'm glad I've held on to them all these years! You could do the bikini thing if you're shy, but really, there are endless possibilities when it comes to the spray tan outfit. Have fun with it!

10. At $30-$50 per tan, it's probably not really worth doing on a regular basis, considering the upkeep and, well, cost. But would I do it again? For another fancy event in California? Sure! For most anything else, meh. Maybe if T is treating.

BOTTOM LINE: There's really nothing scary about a spray tan, and it's kind of fun and makes for a good story. Plus, you really don't come out looking all orange-y, like everyone warned me I would. If you're on the fence, I'd recommend trying it just once, if only for sh*ts and giggles!

Set em up, knock em down

2010-10-27T14:19:00.002-04:00

Must get to shower to "shave and exfoliate," as the woman on the phone said. Because in about 40 mintues I'm going to be standing in some bizarre shower stall thing in my skimpiest bikini while a woman I don't know sprays me brown.

Yep, I'm getting my spray tan, and just in time for an upcoming family wedding in California. I'm thinking of posting before and after pics... but we'll see. This is so amusing and fun!

Reflections on my law school social life

2010-10-25T23:14:00.004-04:00

I haven't posted in a while, so I think I'd better say something on here. This fall 3L semester has been flying by incredibly fast, as exam schedules came out over a week ago! Where has the semester gone?

I'm coming to grips with the end of law school slowly and cautiously. As much as I've decried the student life and rolled my eyes at the heavy work load, I am really going to miss this lifestyle because it's what I've gotten used to. But the thing about law school is that each of the three years is really quite distinct from the others. First year was all that craziness that everyone talks about, but it was more: it was a bunch of people all thrown together and forced to find camraderie. My section, in particular, was pretty close and fond of one another, even if we bickered and gossiped and preferred some over others. Even the gunners were much beloved. Second year some of those friendships sputtered as us 2Ls were cast to the winds of varying class schedules, certain of us picked up by the Journal team, others by the Moot Court and Trial Teams. The slackers among us often found ourselves alone in the lobby at lunchtime where up to 50 people once congregated in nervous enthusiasm, while the harder workers holed up in library carrels or in the Law Review office. Now it's third year, and I'm hard-pressed to find myself on campus long enough to even notice who is and isn't there. I hardly recognize the faces of people walking the halls, and when I do it's a quick smile, hello and "how've you been?" before we're off to our respective classes. When class is over, I book it for the train, not just because I want to get home but because there's no reason to stay.

Closing time is nearly upon us.

I wish that I could say that law school has brought me some really close friendships with new people. I'm certain that my Richmond psychologist would've been happy to know that I'd branched out socially. Instead, I have boatloads of people I know to say hi to, several people I consider drinking buddies when our schedules line up, a handful of budding friendships that have wilted for one reason or another and a girlfriend-in-law (BIL's gf). It's worked out okay, and I have no doubt that as long as we continue to live in Big City I'll continue to see familiar faces around town, have the occasional night out and maybe reminisce once in a while about this or that funny thing that happened during our law school days. But I'll admit to being a little jealous of my classmates who appear to have made lasting friendships of one another, whose facebook photo albums are filled with fun outings and who don't need to go to campus to hang out because they call each other all the time anyway. It's a problem that's older than law school, my friendship envy, but as I sense the curtains drawing on this phase of my life, it's hard not to evaluate myself and wonder if I could've done better.

It's just something I'm thinking about, because as close as I am to the end of law school, there's still one more semester, two more rounds of finals and a bar exam to pass before I'm actually done with this chapter of my life. That leaves plenty of time to make the most of it.

Brief thought on moving back to Virginia

2010-10-18T10:53:00.003-04:00

While we were in Richmond, I ran into some people we used to hang out with from college. One of the guys had moved to DC while we were living in RVA and has since moved back. He said that he likes Richmond a lot more now than he did when he lived there before. Before he left for DC, he described feeling bored with the city. He doesn't know if it's that Richmond has changed or himself, but he's goes out a lot more and has a lot more fun now.

This gave me some encouragement about perhaps one day moving back. One of my big concerns is that moving back to Richmond would be a return to a slightly more...stunted social life.

Anyway, it was a good weekend. The best weekends, it should be no surprise, are the ones that I forget that I'm in law school. I should think about that some, though. After all, aren't I going to miss law school when it's over? Probably best to spend more time focusing on the here and now.

Justice, finally, for Luis Eduardo Ramirez Zavala

2010-10-15T11:19:00.003-04:00

I have blogged about Luis Eduardo Ramirez on this blog and on my other blog.

Last year when the perpetrators of the violent beating that took Luis Ramirez's life were found guilty of mere simple assault, I was heartbroken and dumbfounded at the miscarriage of justice that had taken place from the moment the police were called to the scene of the crime.

Today, I am happy to report that two of the assailants, Brandon Piekarsky and Derrick Donchak, were found guilty of committing a federal hate crime. Interestingly, the local bias is still quite evidence in the local paper's coverage of the trial.

The sentencing phase will be coming up next, and these boys may be given up to life imprisonment for their crimes. I don't wish that on them. Just as I wrote a few posts back, in an exploration of the recent 28-year sentence handed down to a 14-year old who raped and robbed his neighbor, I think their ages need to be taken into account. And I believe in rehabilitation, not punishment. But I am just so 100% pleased that Luis's family finally got a fair accounting for what happened that July night. Justice, finally, is served.

A soccer adventure, or how I forgot I was in law school for one night

2010-10-13T14:07:00.005-04:00

Last night, I felt like I got a taste of my life in the days before law school was even a twinkle in my eye. Ironically, it started with my skipping class to study Federal Courts.

I do that. Skip class, I mean. And skip it to study. There may be little to no logic in it, but I've realized that instead of beating myself up over it, I should just trust myself that I can learn the material, learn it well enough to do okay on tests and as long as I don't surpass my allowed absences, I need to go with my gut.

Anyway, that's what I was doing last night. I was set up in the little corner of our bedroom that's been designated as my study spot, and which I've recently rediscovered as a less distracting place to read than the couch in the living room. I'm working my way through supplemental jurisdiction and debating whether or not to read United Mine Workers v. Gibbs for the gazillionth time. So I decided to take a break and check facebook on my blackberry.

"COLOMBIA!!!" is the first status update I see listed on my friends page. And that's how I learned that the US was playing Colombia in an international friendly match last night. "We're coming up from DC on a party bus!" was the first comment on the status update. And that's how I realized that the US-Colombia match was going to be played in the Big City. Oh crap!

In typical me fashion, I got super excited extremely fast and immediately start scheming for ways to get tickets to the game, planning the best route to the new stadium (that's 30 minutes outside the City) and imagining all the shots of aguardiente (a popular Colombian liquor) I would be taking in the parking lot. I leap over to the iPod, put on the Diomedes Diaz and start a massive text message campaign.

Can you guess what happened next?

30 minutes later, my blood is still pumping fast, but I have realized that tickets to the game are going to run us a minimum of $35 a person for the worst seats, we'll have to pay $15 for parking, T is going to be tired when he gets home and everybody else is out of town or studying. Plus even the soccer bars in town didn't know about this match, or just didn't care enough to remember it. I can feel my dreams of a Colombian rumba slipping away. I settle on watching the game at the one local soccer bar that's got the game on its schedule. I find a friend who's up for going.

When T gets home, he's up for watching the game but less than excited about watching it at my selected bar, which is admittedly a jock chain irish pub and not exactly our preferred atmosphere. He suggests the local German beer house around the corner from us, where we caught many a World Cup game. I call them up and they agree to play the match. But when 8 o'clock rolls around, T is on the phone with his business partner and my other friend has already committed to meeting people at the jock pub. I walk over to the German bar alone.

Sitting in that German beer house alone, eating a soft Bavarian pretzel and watching old footage of the fateful Escobar auto-gol (can any Colombian match be shown on a US network without that clip being played) I started feeling sad. Sad because I couldn't find other people to share my excitement. Sad because I didn't care about the game so much as the camraderie. Sad because nobody else in the bar was watching the game, and because the damn place was blasting polka music. Sad because I was homesick for another country.

The game started late, and T showed up just as it began. I learned from striking up a conversation with an older couple at the bar that the bar's owners had actually gone to the game. They had a bunch of tickets they were selling to go as a caravan with bar regulars, but they couldn't even give them away. We had just missed them. It occurred to me that anybody in the Big City who actually care about the game was actually at the game.

"I'm sad we're not there," I said to T.

"You want to go?" he replied.

"No, there's no point." I sighed, fully invested in feeling sorry for myself. We sat in silence, trying to get excited for a minute. "I mean, by the time we get there, the game will be almost over," I added.

"We can go, if you want to."

"Well..." I considered it. Thought of all the reasons it wouldn't be worth it. And then thought about what would happen if we stayed. We would drink a couple more beers. I would muster up a little enthusiasm, but mostly continue to feel sad, and then we'd go home. The polka would continue to blast.

"Eff it, let's go." I looked at T to see if he was really okay with it. "Let's just do it, why not?"

"Okay," said T. "But I think the dog needs to go out."

So I handed T my credit card, told him to finish his drink and pay up, and I walked back to the apartment to walk our dog and grab the car keys. Five minutes later, we were on the road. Before we even left city limits, I felt a thousand times better. I didn't even care if we missed the game.

We didn't really have much of a plan. I'd grabbed some cash from T's sock drawer, but not enough for us to buy two tickets to the game. Besides, we weren't even sure how much time would be left by the time we got there. We just decided to go and see if we could figure something out once we were there. Maybe they'd let us in to see the last bit of the game. Maybe we'd just party with Colombianos in the lot. Maybe the whole thing would be a bust.

We spent the drive talking about our days, like we'd do if we had had dinner at home. I watched the city lights as we crossed the bridge, as if we were driving back to Virginia. It felt like an escape. With my stupid new little Blackberry as our guide, we fumbled our way through shitty parts of abandoned towns to get to the soccer stadium. We laughed at the marker on Google Maps for Chiang Jiang Chinese Food. T rolled his eyes when I insisted he use Google Street View to figure out the best place to turn. "I can't even see that thing. It's not helpful!" And then he blamed Street View for nearly turning too early. "It looked familiar! Street View confused me."

Anyway, by some miracle we ended up finding the stadium about 35 minutes after our initial decision to go. Getting there involved turning onto a half-paved road, crossing railroad tracks and driving through a chainlink fence with barbed wire on top. But we did it.

The parking lot was closed off because the game was over halfway done. I jumped out of the car at the barricade and called over a parking lot attendant.

Parking Lot Man (PLM): "You know the game's almost over, right?"
Me: "Yeah, we're just trying to catch the tail end."
PLM: "It's supposed to be $15 to park here. That's okay. Gimme $10 and turn to the left and park over there."
Me: "How about $5?"
PLM: "It don't matter. That's fine."
Me (Running back to the car and whispering to T): "Quick! Give him five bucks, let's go!"

So we parked the car in the lot and walked over to the stadium entrance, fully prepared to bribe some other people to let us into the game. Cash in hand, we sauntered up to the entrance. There were at least three stadium attendances at the gate, none of whom was prepared to let us in without a ticket.

Me: "Even though there are so many empty seats? Can we just pay at the gate?"
Stadium attendant (SA): "Nope. If you don't have a ticket, you can't get it."
Me: "What are we supposed to do?"
SA: "Try over there?" (Gestures to the closed ticket booths.)

T and I wander over and knock on the windows of the ticket booths, where a woman working late came over to tell us that we couldn't buy tickets after halftime. We wandered further down the stadium to the team shop, which had the game playing on a big screen t.v. that we could watch through the window.

As we stood there watching the game, I listened to another couple standing beside us, watching the game and talking to one another about how their passes would get them anywhere except the field. I looked over. They were wearing shirts from the local soccer team and big passes around their necks. Someone from inside the store came out and took orders from them. "How much is that shirt over there?" said the man. The store clerk went in and looked and came back with a price.

I turned to the couple. "Are you here with...the team?" The woman turned to me and smiled, "We're with the [Big City] team."

"Oh, that's cool," I said. "Well, it's kind of a bummer that your stadium won't sell tickets to people who want to go to the game just because we got here late."

"Half-time," she said apologetically, by way of explanation.

I shrugged. "Yeah, that's really disappointing."

I listened to the couple muttering and they eventually went back to their banter as they watched the game through the glass. Getting self-righteous and huffy, I began fantisizing about the bad review I was going to post on Yelp about the experience. After all, every news article about the game mentioned the lack of ticket sales. Why wouldn't they take our money?

"I'm not sure we're going about this the right way," said T. We stared at the screen. Score was 0-0 with just under 30 minutes left. "I don't think there was anything else we could do," I said back.

We glanced behind us to where a small cadre of people had gathered with the couple who had been standing beside us. They'd relocated somewhere back by a flagpole. I wondered who the hell they were.

"They want to get into the game?" I heard someone say. I looked over. A girl in a knitted beanie and big puffy coat rushed over to the storefront. Next thing I know, she was standing beside me.

"Here, take these, quick!" she whispered. "Don't tell anyone!"

She flashed two tickets to the game and pressed them into my hand. I grinned. She rushed away.

"Wow, thanks!" I said. I have no idea if she heard me.

And that's how T and I ended up getting into the game, where we caught the last 20 minutes of the US-Colombia international friendly from mere feet away from the US goal. We were surrounded by so much yellow and red and spanish and beer and soccer chanting that I couldn't stop smiling the whole time. It was amazing! We did it! And when I turned around from our seats, I saw this:

PAZ EN COLOMBIA. Peace in Colombia.

And then it was over. No score. Un empate. But on the way back, we drove under a bridge as a train passed by, and I noticed every diner on the side of the road. T laughed when I said, "The best part was that we just went." When I asked why he laughed, he said it was because of how nonchalant I was. I reminded him that this was kind of thing we used to do on a whim, to just go, to adventure out and find something to get ourselves into. It's how we have ended up tailgating a rodeo, napping on the Gulf shore, eating lobster rolls in Maine, climbing to the top of a drive-in movie screen. (And falling in love.)

Last night, I remembered that there is a life beyond law school, beyond work, beyond the daily grind and its attendant expectations. Thank God.

My first race

2010-10-10T00:50:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow I am running my first ever 5K. My first ever race, actually, unless you count elementary school field days. I used to dread that one day of the year when our P.E. class had to run four laps around the soccer field. The Dreaded Mile. But today, in what was perhaps a stupid rookie mistake, I ran/walked 2 miles (0.5 run, 0.25 walk, 0.75 run, 0.5 walk) along my street.

So, if all goes as planned, tomorrow I'll be able to cross another one off my list. Wish me luck!

Something doesn't sit right here

2010-10-08T22:52:00.003-04:00

Bear with me. I realize I'm about to start sound like I'm defending a rapist. I absolutely do not condone violence of any kind, and least of all sexual violence. And I know this is not a popular position to take. But something about this case does not sit right with me.

In updating my other blog I came across the story of Alexis Ramirez, a 15-year old Mexican boy living in Liberty Township, Ohio. Alexis was convicted of felonious assault, aggravated robbery, aggravated burglary, two counts of kidnapping, three counts of rape and tampering with evidence. So what happened? The boy, then 14, allegedly broke into his 64-year old neighbor's home while armed with a pellet gun. At gun point, he raped her, drove her to an ATM and forced her to take out money, grabbed her purse and then ran.

I defend none, absolutely none, of those actions.

That said, I want to take a look at the timeline of the events at trial, to think about whether or not this minor got a fair shake within the justice system. Here goes...

March 19, 2010 - Transfer to adult court
Testimony in the hearing to determine whether Alexis was competent to stand trial as an adult focused on whether he was "beyond help." Two experts offer testimony - a psychiatrist from the county's forensic center and a local pediatrician who was also the county health commissioner.

Testimony Friday came from a forensic psychologist and local pediatrician on his chances of being rehabilitated in the juvenile justice system.

Dr. Kim Stookey, a forensic psychologist, testified that she met with Ramirez for more than an hour and subjected him to multiple tests.

She described his family environment as rife with alcohol and abuse. “He doesn’t like to speak with him (his father) when he’s sober, because he tends to be more irritable,” Stookey said.

She said during interviews Ramirez seemed “fixated” on the sight of blood — possibly even aroused by it.

(credit)

Prosecutor says this testimony proves he is beyond help and that it would be a waste of resources to send him to juvenile detention facilities. Then-defense attorney Traci Combs-Valero says “I don’t believe it’s a waste of resources to try to rehabilitate a 14-year-old.”

Citing the possibility that there may not be enough time to rehabilitate him, the Butler County Juvenile Court judge rules that Alexis Ramirez will be tried as an adult in the Butler County Court of Common Pleas. Ramirez, at 14, becomes the youngest criminal defendant to be tried as an adult in Butler County.

April 28, 2010 - Grand jury indictment
Alexis is indicited by a Butler County grand jury on charges of felonious assault, aggravated robbery, aggravated burglary, two counts of kidnapping, three counts of rape and tampering with evidence. The three rape charges are based on "three distinct places in the house" that Ramirez forced his neighbor to have sex with him, according to the prosecutor.

May 6, 2010 - Defense attorney withdraws, public defender appointed and enters plea of not guilty by reason of insanity
Traci Combs-Valero withdraws because she is not on the appointment list for the Court of Common Pleas and because Alexis' family does not have the funds to retain her. Court appoints David Brewer to defend Alexis. He enters a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity.

May 21, 2010 - Judge orders another competency evaluation

July 22, 2010 - Judge finds Alexis competent after testimony from same forensic psychiatrist
Dr. Stookey makes a reappearance after she evaluated Alexis for the second time. Testifying to his competence to stand trial, she says:

[S]hortly after his arrest, Ramirez spoke of demons, aliens, UFOs and “ghosts in his mind.” But in later evaluation, he had “calmed down,” leading her to determine his odd behavior and acting out in the juvenile detention center was due to immaturity and stress rather than a mental illness.
While Ramirez understood the criminal proceedings against him and is capable of assisting with his own defense, Stookey testified he told her “he gets nervous during court appearances and does not listen.”
Brewer questioned whether Ramirez could participate in his defense if he shut down and did not pay attention.
“There is a difference between having the capacity to do something and choosing not to do so,” Stookey said. “He certainly has the capacity to pay attention and listen.”
Stookey said Ramirez is of low average intelligence, with some tendency toward being oppositional or defiant.
“He likes to irritate people, get them going,” she said.

(credit)

August 20 - Alexis pleas no contest to all charges
He has apparently admitted to committing the crime. Continued news coverage mentions that he allegedly told a police detective that he guessed he had to "pay the price for having a little fun."

October 8 - Alexis is sentenced to 28 years in prison
Prior to sentencing, Alexis says, “I hate myself...People look at me as a monster. They have every right to. I’m guilty and whatever you give me, I’ll do it.”

The judge asks him what motivated him to commit the crime. He says, “I thought she would be scared and give me all her money...I don’t know what made me do all that.”

The victim, however, later entered her own statement contesting his explanation: “I offered him a diamond ring and he didn’t take that. I offered him a charge card and he didn’t take that...He was there for sex.”

*******
Okay. Having spent like half an hour going back and forth trying to piece together that timeline, I've figured out what bothers me about these proceedings. First of all, there's no question that Alexis was the true perpetrator of whatever attack happened that night. He deserves to be brought to justice for his crimes.

Here are my problems:
He was bounded over from juvenile court to adult court on the basis of extremely flimsy testimony. The psychiatrist testified to two facts:
- That his father abused alcohol
- That the defendant was "fixated" on the sight of blood, "whether it was someone else's or his own."
The only basis that I could find for Dr. Stookey's belief was that he cut himself while he was in detention because he "wanted to hurt." Furthermore, I didn't see any indication that his prior counsel attempted to procure her own evaluation or even questioned the testimony of the two experts put on by the County.

Then, there's the fact that his attorney ditched him because he couldn't pay. But that's just the legal world and how things work. Money buys justice. So I won't dwell on that.

But it matters! Because, see, he goes to adult court where the very same psychiatric expert is ordered to evaluate him by the Common Pleas judge. And once again she gets on the stand and spouts off clearly biased testimony that does not in any way appear to be based on her scientific knowledge or professional experience. Instead, she sounds like she has a personal grudge against him. She literally explained away his "odd behavior and acting out" (including talking about demons and UFOs) as immaturity and stress. And the defense attorney did not challenge this! Then, after testifying that he gets nervous and doesn't always pay attention during proceedings, she says "there is a difference between having the capacity to do something and choosing not to do so." She goes on to talk about how he likes to irritate people and "get them going." Oh please, please, please... couldn't I have had the chance to cross-examine her? Because seriously.

Lady, you say he likes to irritate people? He must've irritated you. He really got you going. You didn't like his personality. You thought he was defiant. You said he was oppositional. Those are psychiatric terms of art, aren't they? Oppositional defiant disorder is a psychiatric condition. A juvenile psychiatric condition, right? But he doesn't have a psychiatric condition. He's just irritating.

Okay, which is it? He has a mental disorder? Or you're biased because he pissed you off?

It's really messed up that the defense attorney couldn't get a non-biased psychaitric evaluation or any other person on the stand to testify to his character or at least his insanity defense. Or something. Because the way I see it, he wasn't very zealously represented, and there were a bunch of people there who had decided from the outset that he was an insalvagable, hopeless rapist. I just wonder... did a fourteen-year old kid really deserve to be sent to adult prison for twice the length of his life? Or maybe I'm just a trial defense nerd who is missing her calling.

Primitive Africans

2010-10-06T22:33:00.003-04:00

I don't have it in me to write anything right now. But I have to post this blog post from Stuff White People Do (currently on hiatus) after I just had an infuriating, yet refreshingly blunt, conversation with a friend about "Africans" being more "primitive" and thus closer to our biologically-driven gender roles, since they do a lot of f**king and fighting.

Stuff White People Do - Homogenize people from over fifty country into one group: "Africans"

From that post, I'd like to quote a particular passage that was apropos to our conversation. The passage is itself a lifted from a lecture given by Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie:

I was 19. My American roommate was shocked by me. She asked where I had learned to speak English so well, and was confused when I said that Nigeria happened to have English as its official language. She asked if she could listen to what she called my “tribal music,” and was consequently very disappointed when I produced my tape of Mariah Carey. She assumed that I did not know how to use a stove.

What struck me was this: She had felt sorry for me even before she saw me. Her default position toward me, as an African, was a kind of patronizing, well-meaning, pity. My roommate had a single story of Africa. A single story of catastrophe.

In this single story there was no possibility of Africans being similar to [my roommate], in any way. No possibility of feelings more complex than pity. No possibility of a connection as human equals.

...[A]fter I had spent some years in the U.S. as an African, I began to understand my roommate’s response to me. If I had not grown up in Nigeria, and if all I knew about Africa were from popular images, I too would think that Africa was a place of beautiful landscapes, beautiful animals, and incomprehensible people, fighting senseless wars, dying of poverty and AIDS, unable to speak for themselves, and waiting to be saved, by a kind, white foreigner.

My friend said there's nothing wrong with being primitive. But I take issue with his completely ignorant view that ~~all~~ most people in Africa (and, he later said, in South America) being primitive to begin with - not having telephones, carrying around spears and following their primal urges wherever those urges may lead them (HIV, population explosion, war). He said that because I don't see "Africans" as primitive that I am idealistic and refuse to acknowledge that US Americans live in a bubble and that not everybody is like us.

EEEEERRRRGGGHHHH. Sometimes I want to scream.

Out of breath, but breathing

2010-09-29T18:05:00.003-04:00

I've spent the last three hours living an after-school special about Why You Don't Wait To The Last Minute To Assemble Your Applications. I guess this was a sequel to my 1L year lesson in Why You Always Check Your Legal Memo Word Count Before Saying "I'm Done" And Going To Sleep.

Anyway, I really am done now. Like it or not. And for the first time EVER, I felt an urge to run off steam. At 29, "firsts" don't come every day, but this was truly a first. So after I parked my car (legally -- check), locked it up (wheel lock -- check; faceplate put away -- check) and found the house keys I borrowed from T (in the locked car -- check), I suited up in some raggedy shorts and running shirt and WENT ON A RUN. All by myself. And not an obligatory run. I did that yesterday at the gym. This was a real "I actually want to" run. Cue the heavenly music.

Okay, so it was only a mile, and of that mile I only actually ran half of it: 2.5 blocks running, 2.5 walking, repeat. And I took the dog who had to do his business along the way. But for real, I came back sweaty and thirsty and exhausted. Yay :)

Now I am going to take a shower, await the return of my hero (T, as usual) and hopefully meet some friends for drinks and pub quiz where I will forget all about September and the Great Fellowship ~~Debacle~~ Quest of 2010. Bring on October!

This is not a post about weight

2010-09-27T10:07:00.006-04:00

In high school, I was proud of the fact that I didn't care about weight. I was a 95-pound skinny girl who looked like she was still waiting for the puberty train to roll around. When my friends would talk about how little I weighed, I would roll my eyes and remind them that at our 10-year reunion (ha) I'd probably be the heaviest of all of them. After all, being skinny meant I didn't think about what I ate, so I was clogging those arteries and fast! Being in high school, everyone seemed to be self-conscious about something and for many of my girl friends it was about their arms, their thighs, their hips, or whatever. I never understood why they cared about those things. Didn't it only matter what we were like on the inside? Weren't they all pretty, regardless of their shape? Wasn't it good enough to just have fun together? I didn't care when a friend obsessed about her looks or the number on a scale, per se, but I was definitely baffled. And I'll admit it: I was smug. I could rise above such petty matters.

And that, I now realize, was privilege.

I've been paying more attention to issues of privilege lately. It could be because I've stumbled upon some really awesome blogs that talk about important social/cultural issues from perspectives I'm not used to. For example, I had never given much thought to naming and language issues in intercultural adoptions. And shamefully, I'd hardly noticed, much less thought much about, the ways in which mainstream society persistently "others" people with disabilities.

But now I'm noticing things that I do, and those around me do, with much greater frequency. Things like fetishize people of different ethnicities or heritages. There are some things I've long noticed but haven't been able to put a finger on... like the overwhelming dominance of male-ness in punk rock discourse and the persistent hate of "girl singers" -- of which I am quite guilty -- as if all girl singers have one single voice that can be hated on.

Looking back, I can see how easy it was for me not to care about weight when I didn't have any of the cultural repercussions of being outside the socially acceptable weight range. I had a flat stomach, clear skin and plenty of naievete. I didn't have to notice weight because it didn't affect me in any way. But I made no effort to try to understand the concerns of my friends who struggled with eating disorders and low self-esteem. Instead, I just thought they were hung up on something that they shouldn't be hung up on. And that line of reasoning sounds too damn familiar.

There are ways in which I am part of an oppressed minority. I am a woman, part of a class of people that are being systematically oppressed all over the world: laws (or social norms) dictating what we can/can't wear, normalization of domestic violence and rape, slut-shaming, denial of reproductive rights (no condoms for you!), undervalued work, etc. etc. I'm also a Hispanic American at a time when conservative talking heads have a love affair with portraying Latinos as criminals, perverts and dishonest sheisters who come here just to spit out anchor babies.

But I am also an oppressor. I have so much privilege it spills out of my mouth in the things that I say without my even realizing it. I come from a relatively well-off family. I'm college educated. I am light-skinned. I'm American. I am (temporarily) able-bodied. I'm young(ish). I'm straight. And yes, I'm still thin (ish). And that's what interests me more. How am I benefiting from the status quo? What do I stand to lose as people of color, people of other nations, people with disabilities, the poor, the working class, the queer claim a bigger space in the world? What do other stand to gain? How do we all stand to gain? I don't spend enough time listening to other voices on these issues. It's all well and good to think about it and talk about it with my like-minded friends. But thanks to some amazing blogs, I have been hearing from people I might never have heard from otherwise. And for that I'm grateful.

http://resistracism.wordpress.com
http://www.racialicious.com
http://www.feministe.us/blog
http://stuffwhitepeopledo.blogspot.com
http://www.tigerbeatdown.com

One in 10 million

2010-09-20T09:20:00.003-04:00

I'm laying on the couch in long underwear, drinking my coffee almost the exact opposite of the way I prefer it. The dryer is running, the sun is shining, and the dog doesn't know it but he's going to the vet in about 90 minutes. Five out of the last six weekends have been spent either away or with out-of-town guests, and I do not intend to leave town again for several weeks. I'm enjoying this moment: settling back in to routine.

However, I am proud to announce that I've knocked off several of the things from my 30 Before 30 list:

#22: Ride a wave on a surf board

Over the last weekend before school started, I was in VA Beach with T visiting his family. Even though we usually spend that time catching up with his old high school friends and lazing on the deck with his parents, the weather was unusually perfect and we were unusually motivated to not be lazy. With minimal cajoling on my part, and enthusiastic prodding on the part of his mom, T loaded his old surf board into the car and we drove downtown to his old surf spot.

The water was extremely calm, with almost no waves breaking on the shore. Couple that with my ridiculously poor upper-arm strength, and I never did get up on the board. Even if I had, I probably would've chickened out and dropped before I had a chance to ride a wave, but we'll never know. Ahem. Anyway, what I did get to do was ride a wave in while laying flat on the board. It wasn't how I envisioned riding a wave on a surf board, but I'm still counting my surf lesson with my hot surf instructor as a win for my 30b30 list, because I made it all the way to the shore while clinging to that thing for dear life. I even got the sand in my suit to prove it!

#29: Go to a farm with my mom

Last weekend, my mom and I went to a farm in Red Oak, Virginia. It was a "working" farm, meaning you could help out with the animals and such if you wanted. We didn't. But we did go horseback riding in the backwoods, past fields of wildflowers, old tobacco barns and hidden whisky stills. We did pet goats and donkeys and rabbits and cows. My mom got to wander through a fenced in area full of various poultry - guinea hens, chickens and...more chickens? And we ate an incredible home-cooked dinner of corn on the cob, barbecue chicken, dirty rice, dill green beans, squash with onions and salad. Not to mention the sweet tea. Precious, precious sweet tea. And we sat on the front porch of the farm house in rocking chairs, looking out over the fields where bulls sat in bits of tree shade swatting flies with their ears. I had a great time hanging out with my mom, and she had a great time being around her "people" (animals). I'm really glad we got to share that experience.

#16: Go fishing

And then this past weekend, T & I had to go back down to VA Beach. (Long story.) While we were there, I ~~requested~~ demanded that we go fishing. Outside the odd outing with an ex-boyfriend or old high school pal, I haven't been fishing since I was a little kid and my grandpa would take us out to the lake by our family's cabin in the Shenandoah mountains. Sometimes we went up to PA to fish with my dad's cousin, who was a skilled fly fisherman and taught me how to string a line.

I'll be honest. The most tantalizing part of the fishing experience, to me, was getting to sit for a couple of hours in a lawn chair, drinking beers and reading in the sun. T gathered up all his family's old fishing gear from the garage, and we set off to a nearby fishing pier that claims to be the longest pier in the Atlantic. (Don't they all claim that, though?) A few dollars and a bag of bloodworms later, we were set up on our own little piece of the pier, with our Yuengling cans, New Yorker magazines and fishing rods cast deep into the Atlantic.

Less than five minutes after we arrived, a guy came over to give us his left-over bait (another bag of bloodworms, a can of nightcrawlers and a box of squid). T caught a croaker in the first hour, and I fretted over whether to toss him back as I bought a bag of ice for the bucket and tried to ignore his death throes. A leathery old man walked up to T as I was hooking a bloodworm and exclaimed, "You're letting her bait your line?!" to which T shrugged, "She insisted" and I turned around to defend myself, "I can bait my own line!" The seaman laughed, cigarette dangling from his lips, and told T, "Hang on to this one. She's one in ten million!"

That may be so, but I never caught a fish :) And to tell the truth, I'm kind of glad.

Plinko

2010-09-15T22:40:00.004-04:00

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... life. I can feel you filling my lungs back up with air and joy. I submitted my first (of two) fellowship application today and promptly shut my computer, saddled up the horse (dog) and went outside to feel the fresh fall breeze. I have spent a lot of the last several days asking myself why I continue to place myself in positions where I am expected of. Where I have to strive. It's not that I don't like responsibility... But there's do-your-job responsibility and then there's show-the-world-why-you-are-so-talented responsibility.

I guess anyone who is cocky enough to go to law school has at least a small narcissitic streak to them; some part that wants to show off to the world how good they are. We are all, to some extent, obnoxious oldest siblings trying to prove something to our parents. Or something like that. Right? No? Just me?

Anyway, I far prefer to just be quiet, keep my head down and do what I need to do to get paid. Yet once in a while I am presented with an opportunity and I feel obligated enough to pursue it, or the pieces just happen to fall into place. And that's how I got so stressed out over this fellowship. And now that I've taken a breather and gone out to spend an evening eating $3 burgers with friends and drank a few Octoberfest specials and shouted out across a bar at a law school classmate we happened to recognize and run into Best Woman at the park with her dog, I feel much better. Life can resume as normal.

I like to think of these little spurts of ambition as mere interruptions from my daily life, mere plinko tacks that occasionally send my life in a different direction (law school, I'm looking at you) but never actually *become* my life. I've got far too many more important things to do than worry about an application once it's been submitted. Like watch Mad Men with mabehbeh. But one good thing about those stressful times? They make me feel so much better about my life when it's all over.

Cloudly with a chance of sky.

2010-09-10T01:02:00.002-04:00

Here's the thing: I really just hate having a lot of expectations placed on me. I perform at my best when nobody is expecting much of me. So if you know me in real life, and you think I'm flighty, or disorganized, or lazy? Well, then. I've apparently done my job.

I got to law school by telling myself I was just playing around with brain teasers. But when it comes to actually setting firm goals, it's a flop. No sooner do I commit myself to doing something than I've found a way to weasel my way out of it, or sabotage it, or wait for someone to kick my arse in gear. Call it a high stakes version of performance anxiety. It's why I'd never make a good... oh, crap.

The thing is, when I know I'm good at something, and I just do it because I enjoy it and I don't care what other people think, there's no problem. Take schmoozing, for example. That's something I can do. Put me in a room full of people I don't know, and I'll come away with 20 business cards. Legal research... same thing. I LOVE me some Lexis Nexis! Ooh, or the best example? Boggle! I will kick your BEHIND at Boggle! And if I don't? Fantastic!! I love getting beaten at my own game: it helps me get better.

Here's what I don't do well: Deadlines. Writing my thoughts out on paper for someone else to read. Developing my ideas on a timeframe. Meeting the expectations of others. It's why I'm sitting here typing thoughts on a blog that virtually nobody reads, rather than writing them out for an essay that could make or break my shot at a post-graduation dream job. I just have a hard time making myself do it. And believe me, plenty of my procrastination efforts have involved psychanalyzing myself to death about this hang up. Be glad, o invisible reader, that I'm not boring you with the fruits of that labor here.

So I'll do what I always do. Wait to the last minute. Force it out of myself as I cringe, waiting for someone to scream at me for what a horrible job I'm doing. Cautiously open one eye and see the sky hasn't fallen as I've made my best efforts at getting people to give up on me. And eventually, submit what I've got, and hope it's enough, while telling myself I did the best I could. And maybe I'll be telling myself the truth. I just don't know.

Protruding stomach

2010-09-06T15:31:00.002-04:00

I have a protruding stomach. When I sit down, my stomach hangs out and it looks like I have a big ol' gut like my dad's. I don't necessarily hate it. I've gotten used to it in a lot of ways. I do hate that the bottom half of me is wider than the top half. That much I do hate. But what I hate the most is the way T reacts to it. He tries to play it cool, and a lot of the time he does. But I can tell that he doesn't prefer my fatty fat round belly. And of course I don't blame him. I was pretty thin when we met. I'm expanding and it's hard to stop it. He deserves a wife that tends to her appearance. And considering he likes me better without make-up, tans and fancy clothes, it's not the hardest thing in the world for me to make an effort on this one front. The more I think about it, the worse I feel. And that's the cold hard truth.

On the one hand, I want to get in shape and take better care of myself because it seems like a good way to care for myself and show myself some love. On the other hand, I feel obligated to do it faster! quicker! better! because it's what my husband deserves. And to not do it is to be a bad wife, a lazy wife, a fat slob. This is real. When I feel that way about myself, all I want to do is crawl into a hole and give up. I start to make excuses about how when you start encroaching on 30 your metabolism slows down, it gets harder to keep off the weight. And that's true. I am mad that it's so much more work for me now than it ever was. I'm mad that I have to bust my butt to do what happens to T naturally. And I'm mad at myself for not being a natural at it.

If I were motivated from a healthy place, I would probably get a lot more done. This summer I stopped drinking beer because it seemed to be a major culprit of empty extra calories. But then the school year started. I've fallen off that wagon. It's hard to feel empowered and focused on the positive when there's a million deadlines hanging over your head and it feels like your future depends on each of them. I can't focus on more than one thing at a time: school reading, fellowship deadlines, keeping fit. These all require a lot of effort and I'm not in the habit of making any of them second nature. Right now, fellowship deadlines are #1. But after that? It'll probably be replaced by other job-searching efforts. And an endless litany of excuses for carrying around an extra 15 pounds will be sure to follow.

So instead of being motivated by feeling really on top of my game and wanting to take care of myself, I'm motivated by lingering glances and minute gestures that indicate my belly has not gone unnoticed. I'm motivated by shame and self-hate. And these are not very motivating factors in my experience. For some people they are extremely motivating: some people turn shame and self-hate into a militaristic regimine of dieting and brutal exercise that works wonders. That's really what I wish I could do. Turn my negative emotions into something productive. In moderation, it's probably a good thing. Better, at least, than wallowing, which is what I see myself as doing. Wallowing with the occasional fitful attempt at getting off the couch. But like a half-finished course of antibiotics, partial attempts at exercise inevitably make the malaise harder to beat. Sure, you're up and running one night, or even one week. But eventually you stop. And the next time you want to get up and try again, you remember how you failed the last time, which once again raises the volume of that little voice in your head saying, "What's the point? You always give up eventually." Until eventually that little voice is the only thing you can hear, and it's all but insurmountable.

I think I need a support network.

Big wheel keep on turning

2010-09-01T23:54:00.003-04:00

So I am currently in Applying For Fellowships Hell. I've got a self-imposed deadline of Friday for the first draft of my project description. Going from laidback summer to the pressure and deadlines of finding a G-O-B is neither easy nor fun. Getting my reading done is about the last of my troubles at this point. Thankfully, I've been on top of it.

I will be happy when September is over, fellowship applications are in, and I can move on to other, less time sensitive (though not less competitive) forms of job-seeking. In the meantime, I've very, very grateful for the New Yorker subscription T got me for my birthday. Nothing like losing yourself in a biography of the head of the NIH to make you forget your troubles and get a good night's sleep.

I'm not the best at multi-tasking or even thinking about more than one thing at a time. But somewhere in the back of my head, I've vaguely recalling that I have a date with my mom for an upcoming weekend trip to a "working farm," which I thought meant a farm that is actually functioning, but my dad pointed out to me is probably a farm where the guests have to work! Um... But yeah, that's one of those 30 before 30 things I've put on my list, and I can't wait to check it off! Also, we have a wedding to go to in October, and I have plans to wax and spray tan before we leave... I've even talked my FFSIL (faux-future-sister-in-law) into going with me for the tan! Priorities, priorities, right? I'm also going on a back-to-school outing to a MLB baseball game, for the first time since I moved to the Big City, and my BFF is coming to visit with her little baby boy, my honorary nephew. Good things abound, if I can just not sabotage my efforts to pursue this fellowship.

Please keep your fingers crossed for me that I'll stay on track.

Unpacking my baggage

2010-08-30T11:05:00.006-04:00

I don't share much about myself. Not just on this blog, but in life in general. A conversation with T this weekend got me thinking about that.

We were standing on a street corner waiting for a bus on Saturday night. I was in a rotten mood, stemming from some news I had received earlier in the day that triggered some difficult emotions. I've been struggling with this one particular problem (yes I am being purposefully vague again) for a while now, but I don't feel like I can talk to anyone about it. Which is what I said to T.

"The worst part is I can't talk to anybody about it." T nodded his head in supportive silence for a moment. But then I guess he thought about it. Because his next words were, "Have you talked about it with your mom?"

That was an easy question. "No!" I scoffed without missing a beat. "Of course not."

Apparently the answer wasn't so obvious to T, because he asked me why not, and wouldn't I feel better if I did.

And that's when I reconnected with an old issue. "No way," I said to him. "Anytime I really open up with her, I feel like I have a bad hangover the next day. Like I drank too much and embarassed myself the night before."

So there it was in all its warped beauty. My Baggage. I've been thinking about it today. Why I feel like I can't talk to people about the things that truly weigh on my mind. It's a problem, a road block to intimacy, if you'll pardon the cheesy self-help speak. Of course I do not count T in this equation. I've felt comfortable opening up to him for as long as I've known him. And my best friend since middle school is also excluded. But, see, that's all part of why I have these questions in my head.

Why can I talk about my problems to my BFF but not any other people I consider friends? And why did it take me so long, and do I continue to avoid, talking even to her about this issue? More to the point, I wonder: What am I afraid of?

I have a gutteral reaction to feeling like my emotions are on display. I'm far, far better at analyzing my feelings than displaying them. One of my strongest memories of this tendency is from when I was a teenager, feeling very hurt or upset by something my mom had done, and yelling at her when she came to talk to me about it: "Of course I feel sad. Who wouldn't feel upset about XYZ?! You did XYZ!" Not exactly opening up emotionally. I would just kind of describe the emotions and the reasons for it in a very detatched way, at the same time being very angry that I had to spell it out (and be vulnerable).

So is it vulnerability? I guess that's probably it. I don't like the idea of people knowing that I feel deeply disappointed, for example, about something that I didn't get that I really wanted. (To be honest, this doesn't happen often, though.) I don't want people to tell me why it doesn't matter, or why it'll work out. I don't want people to feel sorry for me, or to treat me as weak, fragile. I don't want people judging my feelings, my fears or my desires. So I keep them all to myself. Which isn't a very healthy way to go, nor does it help in building strong friendships.

I have to learn to let go of other people's reactions to the things I say and do, and see others' reactions as reflections of their experiences, fears, desires, lifeview; not as a reflection of the worthiness of mine, or anything about me. I already know I can't control other people's opinions. But I haven't learned to accept that, and instead try to keep everything cloistered and hid out of sight. And this blog post is a perfect example of everything I've talked about here.

So far so good

2010-08-25T23:07:00.003-04:00

I'm liking this 3L thing! I feel like I'm finally allowed to not care! And, not that it was a high standard to beat or anything, but three days in and I'm already doing wayyyy more work than I was this time last semester. For one, I own my books. For two, I've done my reading. For three, I have six highlighters that are brand-spankin-new and in all the appropriate colors.

Things I'm loving about this semester so far: that my classes don't start until after 2 p.m. every day; that I have no class on Friday and only a brief clinical session on Wednesdays; that I'm not taking any statutory courses; that my reading assignments appear to be reasonable and syllabi seem focused; that I'm not taking any fancy trial advocacy course that forces me to plan entire trials instead of catching up on my homework (although we will be doing FOUR roleplays in my alternative dispute resolution class...); that I don't feel completely burnt out.

Yay! Now let's see how long I can keep this optimism burning...

Back To School Cool

2010-08-23T00:57:00.002-04:00

New school years. Fresh starts. This is the start of my third and final year of law school. My last fall semester ever starts tomorrow morning. I have my bookshelf cleared, old highlighters have been weeded out, my hair has been washed. I'm ready to begin again.

In the spirit of a new semester, I am making some resolutions, most of which have nothing to do with school. Maybe it's the 2 years of law school under my belt talking, but I just don't seem to care too much about grading curves or exam styles or anything like that. What I do care about is balance in my life. And taking care of myself. This may be the last time I have occasion to reevaluate those things, take a deep breath and Start Over, just because.

This semester, I resolve...
to stay off the internet during class.
to make a greater effort to cultivate real friendships.
to drink less.
to center my time around my marriage.
to put away the laptop when I'm at home.
to exercise more.
to go to bed earlier and wake up earlier.
to work on staying mindful and remaining in the present.
to always refill my prescription on time.
to notice my feelings more and react to them less.
to love.

crickets

2010-08-16T23:18:00.002-04:00

i am in durham:
a sticky summer breeze filled
with chirping crickets.

One year of marriage down, one dress size up

2010-08-12T17:55:00.007-04:00

I've now been married for over 1 year. Whoop! I'll write more on that when I finally (FINALLY, c'mon!) have our professional wedding pictures. We've been putting that off for, well, over 1 year. Suffice it to say that T & I escaped to the shore this weekend to toast ourselves at a beachside restaurant and draw love notes in the sand. We fondly reminisced about our Spanish honeymoon and vowed to go back again soon. My favorite part of the weekend was searching for seashells to complete the fins and eyes of a sea creature that T & I were constructing on the empty coastline of a wildlife reserve. Joint projects with T are always so much fun (and romantic)!

Um, but yeah. On to other things.

I vowed over the weekend, as I munched on floppy McDonald's french fries during our drive back to the Big City, that I would eat only fruit for the next week. Why fruit, I have no idea exactly. But it had something to do with the fact that over the past week I'd eaten two cheesecake slices in 24 hours, and over the course of one day had devoured cheesecake, cake, cookies and three types of cheese. Fruit just seemed like the opposite of that.

Monday rolled around and we didn't quite have the money to go grocery shopping yet. So I winged it. It is now Thursday and here is what I have eaten over the course of the last four day, in chronological order (more or less):

MON:
Blueberry yogurt
Roasted unsalted cashews
Fruit salad
A piece of fudge (from the beach!)
Tostones
Fried oreos (no comment)
Spinach salad with gorgonzola, dried cranberries and candied walnuts

TUE:
An orange
Roasted unsalted cashews
Half an avocado with lemon juice
Prunes
A banana
Spoonful of peanut butter
Brown rice and bean burritos (we were out of food!)
A piece of fudge

WED:
Apple croissant (whoops)
Blueberry greek yogurt
Wholegrain crackers
Figs with cheese and proscuitto
Homemade cheese pizza (...)

THU:
Granola
A banana
Prunes
Some free samples at Whole Foods...

And there ya have it. Believe it or not, this is the healthiest I've eaten in a long, long time. The trick is that when I slip up, I'm trying to get up and keep going. Onward and upward to a healthier lifestyle and just a couple inches lost around that middle!

Meme-ing my way through the late afternoon

2010-07-28T16:15:00.004-04:00

I'm stealing an old meme from MILP blogger PT-Law Mom today! Why? Cause I am feeling bored and a wee bit narcissistic.

Wheeeeeee!!!!

1. How old will you be in five years? 34

2. Who did you spend at least two hours with today? So far...nobody. Pretty much just doin' mah thing here in the office.

3. How tall are you? 5’4″

4. What do you look forward to most in the next six weeks? Riding the train down to North Carolina!!

5. What’s the last movie you saw? The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

6. Who was the last person you called? My parents

7. Who was the last person to call you? My parents

8. What was the last text message you received? "Preliminary temporary injunction in Arizona"

9. Who was the last person to leave you a voicemail? A classmate studying abroad in Israel (we're working together on an asylum issue)

10. Do you prefer to call or text? Call

11. What were you doing at 12am last night? Watching Season 5 episodes of The Office with T.

12. Are your parents married/separated/divorced? Married

13. When is the last time you saw your mom? Saturday

14. What color are your eyes? Brown

15. What time did you wake up today? 8:08 a.m. (whoops!)

16. What are you wearing right now? Kitty heels, jeans, H&M tanktop, Mossimo tee

17. What is your favorite christmas song? Theme song from the Grinch (not "You're a mean one...")

18. Where is your favorite place to be? Traveling with T

19. Where is your least favorite place to be? Sick in bed on a sunny day

20. Where would you go if you could go anywhere? Back to central america, but with T.

21. Where do you think you’ll be in 10 years? Probably living in Virginia

22. Do you tan or burn? Neither (gotta love that Anglo-Latino combo!)

23. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child? Murderers

24. What was the last thing that really made you laugh? Watching my boss slap his head for the trillionth time a la Homer Simpson's "doh!"

25. How many TVs do you have in your house? 1

26. How big is your bed? Queen

27. Do you have a laptop or desktop computer? Laptop

29. What color are your sheets? Greyish blue

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2-3

31. What is your favorite season? Whatever season's up next

32. What do you like about Autumn? The crisp cool air and blue skies

33. What do you like about winter? The smell of fireplaces and Christmas music

Chasing a feeling

2010-07-27T00:46:00.005-04:00

There was this one night... it was the summer I turned 21. My friend Mal was having her summer birthday just a few weeks after mine, and we were going out dancing to celebrate. Mal was younger than me by a couple of years, but that didn't matter, because we were going to the Black Cat and it was Mousetrap night!

Mousetrap, you see, was the place to dance if you were an indie scenester in the early 2000's. Back then you called them "scenesters," not "hipsters," and though we all rolled our eyes when uttering the phrase in someone's general direction, it was an affectionate eyeroll. Of course, those were (barely) still the days when emo was still a semi-respectable genre of music to stake your claim on.

WHOOPS!!! **Nostalgia alert!** Back to the story...

So anyway, we were at Mousetrap for Mal's birthday. It was me, Mal, my gay friend Rick and his way older boyfriend, some random friends of Mal's and my brother JC. Come to think of it, me and the way-older boyfriend were the only ones over 21.

We get up in the club and we're pumped, dancing to all the latest Belle and Sebastian mixed with some Iggy Pop and David Bowie. Hot skinny boys with moppish hair and cute girls in threadbare t-shirts and bangs are packed to the hilt. I get myself a gin and tonic, which I had settled on as my favorite adult beverage just weeks earlier at my 21st birthday party. We were too young (or old) to care about getting wasted. We just wanted to punch the air with our fists, spin ourselves in circles and dance like young white kids who didn't give a damn.

That's when I made my fatal mistake: I handed my drink over to my brother. It was packed and I probably needed to peel off a layer of plaid or something. Who can recall. Next thing I know, though, the portly dude dancing to the left of me has me by the scruff of my neck and is steering me toward the exit. I turn and see that he's got my brother and Rick (simultaneously) by the other hand. Suddenly, we're standing on the sidewalk on 14th St. in the hot summer air.

What I remember next is this: Rick freaked out about how to let his (much-too-old) boyfriend know we were kicked out, and how to do so without completely looking like a jackass. I freaked out because it was Mal's birthday and her friends (and ride) were stuck outside. Eventually we all reunited, and we ended up at Amphora's dinner back in Herndon, laughing and drinking milkshakes with our grilled cheese sandwiches. (I hadn't met T yet, so I didn't drink coffee yet either.)

Why am I writing about this?

I guess because I was thinking about it this afternoon as I was walking home on this perfectly crisp, dry, blue summer day. I was thinking about how there are so many times in life that you find yourself chasing a feeling, nagged by the sensation that you're supposed to be living things in a certain way if you can just figure out how. And then there are times when everything feels just right, like all the pieces are in place exactly how they're supposed to be, and all you have to do is soak in the feeling. That night at Mousetrap was one of those nights. Being out on the town with my friends, getting kicked out of the club just as my favorite New Order song comes on, kicked out before the night has even begun... and none of it mattering because all my friends are right there with me and it's one of the shortest nights of the year so we just gotta make the most of it.

There are times in my life that feel just the opposite. The nights when I find myself standing in a club at 1 in the morning, gin and tonic in hand, watching people get freaky on a dance floor, wondering why I am out this late at night when I would rather be sleeping or sitting around a table playing board games with friends. It's the difference between the times when I am stretched out in the stiffling summer heat on a bare bed, too hot for covers, listening to country music on the tinny clock radio with T, both of us just listening, quietly, together; versus the times when we get all dressed up and go to dinner only to realize we've hardly connected for weeks, and all we want to do is cook together and hear about each others' days.

Sometimes life is exactly the way I imagine it should be. Other times, I find myself chasing that feeling, that ghost itch of a phantom limb. These days, I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be. I'm not sure how to imagine my perfect 29th year. And I'm not sure how to chase it.

A year from now...

2010-07-25T18:47:00.003-04:00

Where do I see myself in a year? Where do I see us? Those are the questions that I've been thinking about more and more these days. This coming week, I have a meeting with the two head honchos at my office to discuss fellowship project ideas. If I ~~can come up with one~~ wow their socks off and they decide they want to sponsor me, I'd have to start putting together an application for yet another competitive application process. (And I thought applying to law school was a pain...)

Let's just say I were to get a fellowship that would enable me to work on a project in the field of immigration over the two years following graduation... What would my life look like?

For starters, I would be staying in the Big City. T would keep his job (God willing) and we would have a dual income. Our families would secretly cry collective tears, while publicly putting on brave faces and expressing their vicarious satisfaction that our lives have flourished here up North. It would mean two more years of long, difficult commutes to T's family on the coast. Two more years of being displaced Virginians. Two more years of expensive housing, small living spaces at relatively exhorbitant prices. Two more years without yards or porches. Two more years away from communities we grew close to and left behind.

On the other hand, it would mean two more years of foot commutes. Two more years of being able to walk to our coffee shops, bars, restaurants, grocery stores, hair salons, doctors appointments, Macy's and our offices. Two more years of blissful ignorance of the fluxuation in gas prices. Two more years near friends that have moved closer. Two more years of living in an incredibly diverse setting and being part of a Sesame Street-style neighborhood. Two more years to develop deeper ties to friends we've met and allow the roots to grow where they have been replanted.

Um, more specifically, there are big questions: do we want to own a house here in the Big City? Do we want to have kids here in the Big City? Does T want to continue in his line of work if we move somewhere else? How important is his being vested at his current place? Will my law school's alumni network get my foot in the door out of this state?

If I get the fellowship, I imagine that the question of whether to stay or go almost takes care of itself. It would be just a matter of adjusting our mindsets to the new development. On the other hand, if I have to take a more, um, proactive approach to my career path, the options abound. Big City vs. Virginia is just one of the issues. Do I look for a firm job? Try to get hired at a legal services corp? Seek employment in rural areas where there is a greater need? Strike out on my own? Have I decided on immigration law after all? What kind? Blah, blah, blah.

I may sound like I'm freaking out, but I'm not. I'm excited and I'm just thinking outloud on my blog. T has been having some (unrelated) anxiety lately, so these aren't questions we're in a position to seriously tackle at the moment. In the meantime, I'm hoping that one day I'll look back fondly at this moment and cluck my tongue and smile.

American Idol & me

2010-07-25T01:45:00.002-04:00

Just got back from a night in Baltimore watching the 10 finalists from the 2010 American Idol perform before hundreds (thousands?) of tweens, parents, elderly and at least one homeless man. Thanks for the invite, Mom! Now to bed...

Lessons learned

2010-07-20T22:52:00.002-04:00

Some things I've learned over the course of my day (in no particular order):
- Downloading BitTorrent software onto my runs-like-new Macbook without having a clue what I'm doing will only lead to two things: frustration and a slower computer.
- When the computer battery is dead and I've left my charger at work (and T isn't available), I find myself disconcertingly unsure of what to do with myself.
- Taking a bath is a great way to recharge and reconnect with my thoughts... it just is.
- Sometimes I just need to stay away from T and give him his space.
- If T offers to let me use his Mac charger while it's connected to his elaborate office set-up, don't try to unplug the charger myself.
- When the choice is between waiting in the long line to get iced coffee in the morning or catching the earlier bus to work, it's okay to wait for the coffee. Just be prepared to have to work in the conference room because all the office spaces are taken.
- It may be a PITA to walk the 9 blocks to immigration court to file a motion for the senior attorney, but she'll show her appreciation at my willingness to do it. And she'll notice that the other intern said no because he didn't want to have to move his car.
- When I'm in the middle of a blog post and my irritable husband who has proclaimed a need to be left alone returns to his office, where my laptop is plugged into his charger, it's time to wrap it up.
- Lounging around the house in a bathrobe and a towel is not nearly as comfortable in reality as it seems when I'm convincing myself to get out of the bathtub.

Catching flies with vinegar

2010-07-19T00:12:00.005-04:00

Aaaaaaaaand after two weeks of no beer, I broke my no-beer rule tonight. Wish I could say it was for something exciting, but it was just me, T and one of our Big City friends sitting around playing Settlers of Catan.

But wait - that's not what this post is about. This post is to give BIG UPS to my bloggy buddy, Law School Wife, for inspiring me to clean the bathroom and completely scrub my kitchen from head to toe this weekend! It may not have been the most exciting weekend in the history of weekends, but I definitely feel very accomplished :) So, thank you, LSW! You rock!

I spent most of this day with my laptop tuned into K95, mixing vinegar and baking soda, and wiping disgusting olive oil leaks from our formica countertops, trying to ignore the little mice poops I discovered all along the wall that was hidden by the microwave oven and coffee maker. Yuck! My reward to myself was to plan a game night, to just have people over and play Taboo or Scrabble or something... But nobody came, and T and I had to eat all the bean dip and homemade honey-mustard pretzel dip ourselves. He said I should quit feeling sorry for myself because I didn't actually plan anything, which is true. And to make me feel better, he disappeared to the bedroom and reappeared a few minutes later wearing a "cowboy" shirt and too-tight jeans. Who could resist? I had to smile, and then beat his behind in Bananagrams.

That's when our friend appeared, buzzing in to our apartment and arriving just in time to finish off the pretzels and school us both in Boggle.

All in all, it was a nice laid-back night, made especially good by my husband's efforts to cheer me up, Pandora's excellent Kenny Chesney playlist and a few beers. And even though I'm feeling guilty about the calories and my little beer gut, there's a little thing called Zumba that will be whipping me back into shape come tomorrow at 5:30 p.m. So there!

Immigration, vacation, infatuation

2010-07-15T23:24:00.004-04:00

Some thoughts...

* Well, this immigration gig is really overwhelming. It could be the experience of working where I'm at, but it feels like every post I've written since I started this job has been about how exhausting this internship has been. I do this thing when I'm really overwhelmed where I just kind of try to avoid the stressor (whatever it is) at times when it's not immediately in my vicinity. Which is normal, and probably healthy, in most situations. I come home, cook some dinner or sit on the couch with my laptop or a magazine, or maybe go out with friends or on a date with T. But when the job is all wrapped up in trying to come up with a fellowship pitch for your boss so that you can potentially have a paid job for the next two years, sitting around and doing nothing in the evenings isn't necessarily the best idea. For example: I should be researching some very specific sections of 8 C.F.R. 287.7 right now. And a small voice in my head is saying, "If you don't get moving on this, you're going to find yourself drifting away from a Very Important Opportunity." I'm doing my best to drown that voice out.

* People keep asking if I'm going anywhere this summer. I keep forgetting that summer is the time for getaway vacations and such. Instead, T & I recently purchased tickets to fly to California in October for his cousin's wedding. That, in my mind, is going to be an awesome weekend vacation. His parents generously paid for our hotel room, and we used credit from our cancelled trip to Guatemala to get the flight for next to nothing. (Yes, flying to Central America was cheaper than flying to the West Coast!) We'll be staying in a luxury inn at Laguna Beach, and surrounded by tons of family. And I do feel blessed that I actually love hanging out with extended family at get-togethers! Well... for a weekend, anyway. But even more than the trip to California... we got our "extra" tax return (from when I realized a big error in our first joint tax return and we filed a 1040X), we just paid off our credit cards and now we are going to be getting tickets to go to Colombia over New Years!!!!!! This prospect is so exciting to me that I could care less about getting away this summer. (Well, that and the fact that I actually truly am enjoying not having any more big plans for the rest of the summer... it still feels so much more relaxing to just stay in town.)

* I miss my husband. We've been so busy running around and entertaining other people and trying to catch up on work that I feel like I've hardly got to see him. Well, okay, that's not exactly true. We did get in a few rounds of Boggle last night and ate a delicious dinner with Best Man and Best Woman tonight. I guess it's not that I miss him (he's only up the street at a poker game). It's that I like him. A lot. Today I got him a (very belated) birthday present that I can't wait to give him...when it gets here. : ) I was going to do a list of things I like about T, but then it just occurred to me that I can tell him those things when he gets home. But I will say, the best thing of all about him and me is the feeling like we're part of a team - he's got my back, and I've got his - and no matter how much we get on each other's nerves, there's a flame there that's been burning since the day we met. I love that I can count on that.

ohgoodgodlongrantingpost

2010-07-14T00:46:00.003-04:00

Gah... the last week and a half has been non-stop. After the 4th of July camping/visiting home/meeting new honorary nephew 3-day weekend, we got back to Big City in time to pick up our friend A for 5 days of visiting/staying at our house so he could look for an apartment and a job since he is moving here for the second half of the summer. That week ended with our loading the family (me, T, the dog and our friend A) into the car and roadtripping it back down to Virginia. With a very brief stop off at my parents to leave the dog, we kept going south to Richmond so T could work on a print job all weekend. The drive took 6 hours, which is two hours longer than it should've taken. And when we were in Richmond, I spent the whole time watching a very active 16-month old and taking my former Little Sister out to see Toy Story 3 & go to a belated birthday dinner. T's print job took so long that we didn't leave Richmond until late on Sunday, and after picking up the dog, we didn't get back to the Big City until nearly 3 a.m. I woke up to go to work the next morning and stayed at the office late so I could meet my visiting mom, sister and aunt at their hotel when they got into the city. After schlepping them around the city for a few hours, and getting us all stuck in the middle of a rainstorm without an umbrella, even the wine and mojito I'd enjoyed at my mom's expense wasn't doing it for me. I put them in a cab around 11:30 at night and conked out on the couch in the middle of an episode of the Office. I fell asleep with my bra on. This morning, I was going to go to work but fell asleep on a chair in the living room and decided I needed to call in sick. Which I did, except that at 11 my family showed up so we could all go to brunch. Then I had to walk them around the Market, which was nice, until each of them in turn had a bathroom emergency. We got back to the car, I drove them to another sightseeing part of the city, we parked, fed the meter $1.50, got ice cream and came back 40 minutes later and two minutes too late, to be greeted by a $36 parking ticket. Once they left, I fell back into a blissful sleep until 7 p.m. Then grocery shopped, cooked a very late dinner, watched more the office and got into soft clothes. And then, got into an argument with T about money. Oh, the joys! I just want to crawl under the covers and sleep for a week. Or more realistically, not leave town again for a month.

Camping with the President (kinda)

2010-07-06T23:30:00.004-04:00

Mmm... vicodin brain. Camping was awesome when we eventually found a place to camp. My original plan of camping in the Catoctin Mountain National Park failed miserably when we arrived to find the entrance blocked off. Well, before that, I stopped at a little fishing pond and bought a couple ears of corn out of the back of a man's truck. As we got to talking ("Are you all from the city?" he asked by way of introduction), I learned that the President was up in the park for the 4th of July weekend. "If he's up there, they're not gonna be letting anybody near there." Not entirely sure if the man was off his rocker or we had stumbled upon a crazy random coincidence, I kept driving to the park, only to discover that he was right. Barricade.

As we drove out of town, T said, "I'm starting to put two and two together." "What do you mean?" says dense I. "I think that was Camp David." And, um, he was right.

So we kept going until we found an even cooler campground. And Sasha and Malia surely missed out, because this campground had tree houses! (Plus they didn't care we had a dog, plus they didn't have a no alcohol policy, plus we couldn't see any of our neighbors!) We're pretty sure the camp owners just wandered off the Appalachian Trail one day 20 years ago and decided to never come down off the hill. Check it out, this place is awesome! If you're ever camping in Maryland, I recommend it.

Anyway, fast forward three days and my back is absolutely punishing me. I'm not sure if it's from the camping, or from the sleeping in the car on the drive home from my parents. But it feels like someone has been punching me repeatedly with a fist and stabbing me with a knife at the same time, in the exact same spot in my middle back. So against the advice of my medical advisor (T) I just took a vicodin pill that expired in August 2008 from back when I had to get my molars out (or was it when I had to get that colonoscopy after I passed out unexpectedly in a Richmond diner...bizarre medical history). And my head feels nice and fuzzy, an entirely placebic effect, I'm sure, but one that I'm happy to kick back and enjoy. I'm just going to ignore the irony that I just turned 29 and immediately started having back problems.

The big 2-9

2010-07-03T12:14:00.002-04:00

And just like that, the last birthday of my 20s has arrived. Oh God. But I won't dwell. Because this is a post of celebration and praise. Instead I'll focus on the firsts: this is my first birthday with my husband :)

Last night, even though it was a day early, I had perhaps the best birthday date I've ever had. And I owe it all to T's planning! What I told T is that I wanted an excuse to wear the flimsy black dress that I bought off of Gilt.com a while ago for $36 (marked down from $299!) and other than that, I didn't care. With not much else to go on, he made us reservations for a well-known tapas restaurant in town that I'd mentioned a few days earlier. I got fancied up, he put on his good jeans, we hailed a cab and we were off!

Dinner was incredible. From the beautifully crafted menu (literally... T was admiring the butcher paper the whole night) to the delicious jamon serrano with manchego and quince to the handsome man sitting across the table from me, it was perfect! We stuffed ourselves on crab puffs, asparagus in cream, olives, some kind of fancy tater tots and, of course, sangria & wine. After dinner, we walked aimlessly down city streets until we landed ourselves at an upscale hotel bar, where we cozied into some seats by the floor to ceiling windows to people watch as we sipped more wine. I don't remember much of what we were talking about, but I remember a lot of laughing. And then, we hailed a cab home, where we eveeeeeentually found ourselves snuggling on the couch watching old episodes of The Office.

This morning, we slept in. T "gave" me my present: a subscription to the New Yorker (yay!!) and we ate eggs and drank coffee. Now I have to go, because we are packing up the dogs and a couple of changes of clothes, so we can hit the road and look for a good place to camp. We're making our way south on the backroads to see my best friend and her brand new baby boy, but with any luck we'll take our time and stumble on some great roadside diners along the way!

Secondary trauma at work

2010-07-01T21:12:00.004-04:00

**Trigger warning**

I want to talk about something that's been on my mind. It's something I get the impression we aren't supposed to talk about as lawyers*, advocates, professionals. I want to talk about secondary trauma, the negative emotional affect that hearing the traumatic accounts from clents can have on us, the listeners. Except, I'm not going to talk about "us" because I can really only talk about "me."

Me...I've been coping with some residual discomfort in my life lately as a result of the tales being recounted to me by my clients. I remember a similar feeling from when I worked at the 1-hour photo shop when I first got out of college, and occasionally the DFS would bring rolls of films to be developed so the pictures could be used as evidence in parental termination hearings. It's a little different here, though. I'm supposed to be unaffected. As a lawyer we are zealous advocates and guardians of the law. We analyze and deliver. We take raw facts and forge them into powerful arguments. We don't let ourselves be phased by the reality of the situations. Do we? Oops... I switched back to "we" again.

"Do what you need to do," the mafiioso speaks calmly into the cell phone. "If you cooperate, everything will be just fine. You know we'll have to do our job if you don't follow our instructions. You can only imagine what will happen to your daughter." The man gathers his wife and kids, hitches the first flight to the United States, goes straight to customs and asks for his family to be taken into custody.

"Keep screaming, it turns me on." And then later, "That bastard baby in your belly is not mine. If you don't abort him, I'll do it myself."

"Did they kill many people?" A pause. A translation. A nod. "They shot them?" Translation again. Words exchanged in another language. A finger drawn across a throat. "They cut off their heads?" A pause. A translation. A nod. A hand covering eyes.

I told a new client I was going to send her an appointment card today. The panic in her voice when she said, "No, no, no! Don't send me anything, he inspects everything! Here, I'll write it down," it was unmistakable.

I just...I don't know what to do with these feelings. Nobody at work appears affected. And most of the time, I'm not either. When I'm actually sitting there with a client taking an affidavit, or translating, or reading a case file, I'm not in tears and I'm not indignant. I'm not stone-faced either. I thing I'm pretty okay at being sympathetic and respectful of survivors of trauma. I try (emphasis on "try") to treat others the way I would want to / have wanted to be treated. I try to keep a little distance, acknowledging the difficulties and strong feelings that come up, without reacting to them personally. I'm really not a basketcase at work.

But I've noticed that I find myself thinking about these stories in those pockets of time that I'm alone and undistracted...riding the bus, falling asleep, in the shower. Not constantly, but enough to know it's affecting me. I don't understand why I never hear the attorneys I sit in with say to their clients, "I'm sorry you went through that." We're not counselors (aside from legal counselors), I get it. But is it a distancing technique for the emotional health of the lawyer? I don't want to not be cognizant of the humanness of my [future] clients. I don't want to see one story after another and have them bleed together until it's all just a blur. At the same time, I need to know where to draw the line and protect the integrity of the client-atty. relationship and my own emotional health.

I guess I'm not going anywhere with this post. I just want to get it down on record that this is something I'm thinking about and learning about right now. I'm curious to see how my thoughts and feelings on this evolve as I become more experienced in this profession.

* Okay, I get that I'm not a lawyer yet. But I'm getting closer. And no, the clients aren't MINE-mine. But they're my responsibility while I'm at my internship, which is close enough for these purposes. I feel like a tween getting close to her 13th birthday and reading Seventeen magazine.

Stick to the eye

2010-06-29T22:02:00.003-04:00

I walked the dog to the park today, as per usual. At the end of a long day (shepardizing cases for an emergency motion to stay a deportation & taking the heartbreaking affidavit of a Sudanese refugee), all I wanted to do was get home and lose myself in a sudoku puzzle. So when I raised a stick in the air for E to jump up and grab, of course he jumped too soon and knocked the end of the stick directly into my eyeball. And of course, as I'm panicking and envisioning my eyeball being dislodged from my socket, I go running over to three complete strangers on a park bench to ask if my eye is still there. In my mind, the whole thing was nothing short of a medical emergency. I couldn't understand why they were all just sitting there, and why the one woman kept talking to my dog about how, "sorry, mom said you couldn't have any treats," like in the midst of being blinded for life I'm going to change my mind and allow her to give my dog a greenie. The man looked in my eye and said it looked fine. I wanted them to walk me home. I couldn't open my eye! Instead, I took E and stumbled across the street to Best Woman's apartment. Thankfully, she was home. She let me in, sympathized with my discomfort, did not make me feel like an idiot for being freaked out, gave me eye gel and walked me and the dog back to my apartment. What a good neighbor.

In other news, my best friend just gave birth to a healthy baby boy. El bendito was born at 11:47 p.m. on Sunday, June 27th, 2010. I am over the moon and I haven't even met him yet. Mother and baby are doing great!

The race

2010-06-26T00:16:00.001-04:00

It's a marathon, not a sprint.

The Five Steps and other shrinky-dink advice

2010-06-23T00:01:00.002-04:00

Pardon the self-help speak, but it so happens that I'm a big fan of lay cognitive psychology. Internet and armchair mental health diagnoses have helped me through some tough times when I didn't have access to or didn't think I needed an MH professional.

It was this old bag of tricks that I found myself turning to this afternoon, in a moment of panic and anxiety over an incident that occurred just as I was preparing to leave work and threatened to ruin my entire evening.

Allow me to present to you the Five Steps.* This is a trick that helps during those times when your world feels like it's caving in on you. It helps you to move past overwhelming emotions that threaten to paralyze you. I used to have this problem a LOT more, before I was diagnosed with PMDD and got treatment. But from time to time (i.e. today) it helps to remember ways to get past a tough moment.

So... the scene is this: I'm headed to the back of the office to drop off my case files for the day, when I run into my supervising attorney, signing out for the day. He catches my eye and, with a mouthful of food, says, "JE, come see me tomorrow afternoon so we can talk."

"Sure," I breezily reply. "What's up?"

And then The Very Fleeting Moment. He averts his eyes, pauses midbite and kinds of shrugs. I quickly jump in.. "Oh, okay. Just...stuff, right?" He immediately nods his head. "Yeah, just to talk about a few things."

Now, we just got together yesterday to review all my cases, so I know this isn't about what's going on with my case load. I went into his office to drop off my files, and saw the lastest assignment I'd turned into him, sitting on his desk with scribbles and notes all over it. For a split second, I thought about scanning over it, but his door was open and another attorney would've had a full view of what I was doing.

Nope. I was just going to have to wait. And stew. Thoughts immediately began running through my head, but they were incoherent. They took the form of a dark cloud appeared over my head. I messed up. Hiring me was a big mistake. He's terribly disappointed with the caliber of my work. I spent too much time with the FIFA games streaming on my computer. I'm not dressing appropriately. I shouldn't have called his cell phone (to tell him I was going to be late... I panicked!). I bug him too much. I don't communicate enough. I'm the worst intern they've had in a long time... on and on. You get the picture.

Enter: The Five Steps

Step One: HALT

Am I Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired?

Well... yes, I am kind of tired. Later it turned out that I was hella tired, because I fell asleep for two hours after I got home. But at the time, I mostly just felt weary from a long day at the office. Not hungry, not lonely and not angry. It's possible that my exhaustion was exaccerbating my emotions, but I doubted it...

Step Two: Define the Problem

The problem was that ever since my boss told me that he needed to talk to me tomorrow and I realized that he had reviewed my assignment, I felt really anxious and inadequate because I knew that the product I turned in wasn't in the format he wanted it and it still needed a lot of work, so I was panicking and I was petrified of how I would feel in the meeting tomorrow.

Step Three: Think of (Exactly) Three Courses of Action

Okay... One, I could think through my feelings and then talk back to my twisted thinking (e.g. "I can't do anything right!... Wait, that's not true. I was complimented on my research skills by ED yesterday.") Two, I could wait until T got home and then talk to him about it. Three, I could distract myself and push the thoughts out of my head.

Step Four: Pick One Course of Action

I really wanted to spend more time thinking about what was bothering me. I also wanted to just forget all these uncomfortable feelings altogether, but I suspected that would just make me feel worse in the morning and I'd be cranky all night. So I picked #1, and decided that if I still felt bad, I would also do #2.

Step Five: JUST DO IT!

Well, I was riding on the bus when I was working through these steps, so I couldn't exactly write down my thoughts. But I did go through them silently to myself. I won't bore this blog with the innerworkings of my mind (anymore than I already have), but I will say that after spending some time when I got home identifying my twisted thinking and working to untwist some of my thoughts, I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up, I felt 95% better! And that's good enough for me.

* I didn't come up with this. Please see this website for more information and tools for panicky, reactionary minds. All the concepts mentioned here come from there.

Country music & me

2010-06-16T18:11:00.004-04:00

I guess I go through phases. I was definitely one of those kids who grew up proudly declaring that I like "all kinds of music...except country and rap." Can anyone guess what two kinds of music I immediately scan the radio for when I'm in a car? And in particular, I listen to a lot of country lately. Usually, I come home from wherever I've spent the day, open up my ~~radio~~ laptop to either K95 or, especially on commercial-free Tuesdays, 98.7 WMZQ. The Big (Northern) City doesn't have a real country station... there's one that occasionally comes in on the car radio if I'm in the southwest corridor of the city, but don't expect to find someone who admits to listening to it. I couldn't even tell you the call letters.

K95 is the station I listened to when we were in Richmond. Even though I succumbed to enjoying country music well before then, it wasn't until Richmond that I discovered the healing principles of Nashville nostalgia. Mostly because they didn't play any of the good hip-hop I'd gotten used to in Durham, I switched to Kenny Chesney, Tim McGraw and Billy Currington on my afternoon commute. When we finally decided to leave Richmond for bulldozed pastures, I was surprised to suddenly realize how ubiquitous that southern musical twang really was down in the capital of the Confederacy. You'd walk into a 7-11 and it would be playing in the background. On a hot day, step into a local BBQ joint for a limeaid and it was crooning from the outdoor speakers. City festivals? State fairs? Children's Day at the museum? K95 was there.

So yeah, I listen to it a lot these days, because it reminds me of home. And because it's just so damn fun to sing along to. Don't believe me? Click here. Or here. Or here. And I even enjoy the commercials, which may be a little sick, I know.

On a completely different note, I came home from work today feeling emotionally draining, with that lingering sick feeling that comes from having heard or seen something very disturbing. I sense that I'm going to have to spend some time working through the internal distress of being exposed to some triggering situations. But now's not the time to write about that. Especially after spending 5 minutes having fun looking for country karaoke on youtube!

Let it be known...

2010-06-13T23:39:00.003-04:00

I just watched the video for Miranda Lambert's new single, "The House That Built Me," and I have tears streaming down my face. Literally. WTH. I like the song, and I like the video (it apparently has real home footage from her childhood), but I wasn't expecting the reaction I had. Oh, hormones!

Anyway, here's the video if you want to watch:

What I love about Sundays

2010-06-13T13:00:00.003-04:00

12:30 p.m.

I have cleared the table of all the dirty dishes, junk mail and sticky placemats. I have wiped down the surface with cleaner so the table is a brilliant white once again. I have paused to reflect on the lovely craftmanship of the table, a birthday gift from T last year, and of the lazy susan that sits in the middle, constructed by my dad as a wedding gift and cake stand last summer. I walked the dog to the market and bought milk.

The coffee machine beeps just in time. I pour my cup of piping hot Breakfast Blend, leaving enough room for the milk that will lighten my coffee from black to caramel. Add a teaspoon of Splenda. Pour myself a bowl of Post Raisin Bran. Plug in the computer so it sits on the lazy susan. Pull up the Washington Post. I bring my bowl and mug to the table.

My phone buzzes. A text message from T. "Good morning. What is your shoe size, my dear." I smile. "7.5, handsome. And good morning to you too."

The only sound is the faint whoosh of the air conditioner. I have no place to be, and second cup of coffee waiting for me in the carafe. I can't think of a better way to spend a Sunday. I don't even try.

El mundial is upon us, yo.

2010-06-11T20:20:00.004-04:00

Once again, I am left to my own devices for a weekend. T has gone down to Richmond to take care of some business and celebrate our dear friend A's birthday. Even though that makes for three out of the last four weekends out of town, I would've liked to have gone with him to hang out and celebrate summer, VA-style, but it wasn't in the cards. Instead, I will be helping to do a final drive for TPS registration at a Haitian church somewhere here in Big City, as part of my new summer job.

The summer job. Yes. So, this summer I am working for an immigration legal services organization, and it is a *big* change from my last job both in terms of the work place and the area of law. Where I was once working in the wishy-washy, creative argument-requiring area of employment law, I am now in the form-filling, by-the-book world of immigration law. Except that makes it sound boring. To the contrary, this is gripping stuff. As the head of the organization said today, immigation is all about three questions:

1. Who gets to come here?
2. Who gets to stay here?
3. Who has to leave?

And instead of practicing my McDonnell-Douglas burden of proof gymnastics, I'm learning the perils of trying to get or stay legal in a post-IIRIRA world. In other words, I'm working out my knees, learning to beg the government for relief for my poor wittle cwients (because in order to get any relief, you gotta talk about how Terrible and Heart-Wrenching your client's life is, compared to everyone else's). Ok, I've only been on the job a few days, but this is the sense I'm getting. Did I mention I'm loving it? Cause I am. I feel at home, like I'm finally doing the work I came to law school for. I love a good ol' memo on the elements of a claim, discerning principles from case law and applying new fact patterns to common law rules as much as the next student. Really, probably more. But at the end of the day, I want to be in the thick of the fray of immigrants trying to save their azzez from deportation, trying to bring their families over, trying to parlay their work with the men in blue into a green card. Yo quiero ser una abogada del pueblo, yo.

And none of this is what I sat down to write about, but it's what's coming out. Probably because to sit and think too long about the World Cup, and where I was four years ago (or the four years before that) is a little too heavy for me on a Friday night when I've already put on my pajama pants and walked the dog in flip-flops and fed my husband macaroni and cheese with pretzel goldfish and oreos for a send-off dinner. Yes, it's true that four years ago I was living the second half of my time in Durham, had the door to my little house perpetually open so that the neighbors and friends could wander over at their leisure to watch the games on my t.v. which had the best reception on the block. It's true that I was surrounded by Mexicans who were pumped about the Mundial, and it's true that my community felt like a Community, and it's true that I miss that sometimes (i.e. now). But it's also true that four years ago, I was missing waking up super early and driving in the fog of twilight over to my friend M's house to watch the games at 3 in the morning in our pajamas, and I was nostalgic for those days then. In short, the World Cup is a chance to Make Memories to the umpteenth degree. It comes around once every four years, and like that short story where the girl gets locked in the closed when everyone else goes out to see the rain for the first time in their lives, it's not something you wanna miss out on, cause this is Real.

Oh, but I said I wasn't gonna go there, didn't I? This is what's happened when I'm left alone in a house by myself, pumped up and ready for a weekend of soccer, soft clothes and snacks on a sofa.

drinks in the city

2010-06-09T01:10:00.003-04:00

It's Beer Week here in Big City. Which means fun activities all across town and excuses to feel like Mary Tyler Moore, dancing down the street and makin' it after all.

Or more specifically, it means drinking "Mole Grog" with a girlfriend from school after bumping into one another on the busiest street corner downtown, as we're both walking home on our respective foot commutes. And it means watching grown men swing at a pinata with a pipe, making jokes about torts exams as the pinata explodes after three blows. It means scrambling for loot and coming up with a plastic valve of some sort only recognizable to home brewers. And, of course, Beer Week means walking out of the bar with one sombrero more than you walked in with.

I can't wait to see what merriment the World Cup will bring.

...it was beautiful.

2010-06-07T23:43:00.004-04:00

When people think of "Northern Virginia" (at least out here on the east coast), they usually think cookie-cutter, faceless developemnts, mini-mansions, strip malls, SUVs, cultureless suburbia... Or maybe that's just what those of us who grew up in NoVa think of Northern Virginia. (Even those of us who have grown up to buy our own SUVs and mini-mansions in suburban developments.) As a child, my neighborhood was all I knew... I dreamt of growing up and living in the Big City, running away to some urban paradise. As a teenager, my mind was fixated on all the changes taking place... the trees being cut down to make way for new housing developments, the houses of childhood friends being sold to new families, with new children. As a college student, I hardly recognized the place that I'd come from... I certainly didn't recognize myself in it.

So imagine my surprise when, one summer day, on just another trip home, just like all the other return trips I'd made since I left for college in 1999... I pulled into the driveway of my parents' house to discover...it was beautiful.

The branches of young saplings, overcome by their own green growth, bowed gracefully before me as I made my way to the front door. Chipmunks, cardinals and rabbits scampered across the backyard upon my approach. White flower petals from the dogwoods were strewn across the lawn as if to welcome me home. And I realized: nothing had changed. It was beautiful and it has always been like this. Or had it?

These days, one of T's & my favorite ways to welcome in the summer is to load the dog into the car, jump on 95 and drive until we pull up the hill and into my parents' driveway. We call it our summer home. We call it E's summer camp. It feels like a getaway. We make pots of coffee, sit on the back porch, watch the blue jays and the woodpeckers cautiously approach the branches above our heads. At night, we play cards, drink beers and watch hockey. Sometimes on Sundays it gets late and we postpone going to our home, we start a fire in the firepit and listen to my dad tell stories about his brother.

This past weekend we were there. We stopped in on a Friday, spent the night and left the dog so we could attend a friend's commitment ceremony near Charlottesville. Saturday night, we danced in the humid Virginia summer air until our clothes were drenched with sweat and the ice we used to cool ourselves down, until our feet no longer supported our legs. Then we drove back, to my parents' and our dog, where we tumbled into the bed, conked out like little children. In the morning, we slept until the dog woke us up, ready to play.

*

I was recalling to my mom how I used to refuse to kiss my Tio goodbye as a child. How I used to be petulant and sulky and stubborn, and how he used to act like his feelings were hurt, and I hated it. How I was probably very difficult.

"You little brat!" my mom said, laughing.

It stung.

When she said those words my face fell in the way it tends to do sometimes, because I get stern with my parents. I always have. She knew I was upset. She rolled her eyes. "I was just joking!" she said. I told her that now, even as an adult, it hurt to hear her say those words. Because we had just been talking about how she called me some names: Brat. Pill. Bitch. Sadist. (As a 10 year old, I thought she meant "satanist," which I took to be a grave insult, since it was coming from my fundamentalist Christian mother). "Fiiiine," she groans. "When you have kids, I won't call them names."

It's ironic. She has often recalled this one incident from when I was little where we were in the car and Iwas sassing her and she just slapped me. I have no recollection of it whatsoever. Not because it was traumatic, but because I was really little, like 4 or 5. Whenever we get to talking about my childhood (read: whenever I start bringing up unpleasantries from my childhood), she remembers the slapping incident and talks about how sorry she is, how bad she felt. She asks, "Did I scar you for life?" And I say, "No, Mom. I don't even remember it!" and I groan like she did. But when she jokingly refers to me as a brat... that's when it hurts.

Kids hear messages about themselves enough and they begin to believe them. Like if you're told you're mean, you're rude, you're too sensitive enough, you start to believe it. If you get angry and your parent always acts disgusted with you for it, you start to believe you are disgusting when you feel angry. But then, I know that one day I'll have my own kids to whom I can be a terrifically imperfect parent. And I'll screw up a lot, and I can only learn and feel and then let go. As my mom says to me, when I remind her of X, Y or Z thing I wish she'd done differently, and as her mother said to her, I'm sure one day I'll be saying to my own kids: "Jeez, did I do anything right?"

*

I'm sitting on the couch at home with T sitting in the little green chair I inherited from my grandparents' apartment, and we are both on our computers, typing, surfing silently. Sometimes I think it's these peaceful interludes, just being together in the same room, that I'm sure I'll remember most vividly. Remembering them from some future house, some future present day, remembering when.

Quick hit

2010-06-04T00:55:00.002-04:00

I just wanted to say that I've been back on the running program, and this time I got T on board. I gave him crap for complaining that I was going out for a run the other night, and apparently I talked him into tagging along. So now, it looks like we might be running buddies! There is something exhilerating about coming back in from a run. I think the tricks are to:
1) Just do it (cliche or no, it's true)
2) Set a goal ahead of time (1 mile)
3) Make it reasonable (alternate between walking and running)
4) Make it into a project (spend 30 minutes mapping out your tiny route ahead of time)

Can't wait to tell you, dear diary, all about my new job! But for now, sleepy time.

Summer jobs: 2nd time's the charm?

2010-06-01T21:26:00.002-04:00

So tomorrow is the first day of my 2L summer job. I'll be working for an immigration...firm? Legal services organization? What do you call it? I really don't know. I should check their website for a better description, cause that issue ain't gonna stop coming up until I figure it out. I don't want to live out this scene from my current favorite television show on Netflix Wii.

Anyway, I'm starting tomorrow and I am nerrrrrvous!

I haven't heard from the hiring attorney since the job offer, except for a quick email back during finals when he asked me and the other intern to bring in our laptops on our first day. (They have a space issue.) I think I'm going to wear a black skirt from a skirt suit that I got for Xmas (yay! grown-up christmas presents!) and a pair of black pumps I just picked up at Target for $19.99. The problem is the top. I just sent most of my work appropriate clothes over to the dry cleaner for their annual dog-hair removal day. But they won't be back until late tomorrow afternoon. I have a dressy-ish tee that I just picked up, but that may be too casual and too long. I've got a cute blue top but it's sleeveless - big no no. The nice sweaters I have are just unbearable to think about in the humid 90 degree weather that has placed a curse over Big City for the past few days. What to do! Have I mentioned I have outfit anxiety?

The other big question is how I'm going to get to work. It's a good 12 city blocks to my west and about 8 or 10 blocks north of here. I could walk to work with T; he does it every day. But his job is about 6 blocks closer to home than mine. There's the bus that goes north, the bus that goes west... I could walk to the train and transfer... Oh, my. It's a not-fun Choose Your Own Adventure!

And, crap, I just told T I'd clear the table for our 9:35 p.m. Spanish-style late-night dinner. Gotta run now. Be back after it's all over.

Memorial Day

2010-05-31T12:22:00.003-04:00

Remembering those who continue to put their lives at risk every day in the name of our country... This post is in honor of those men and women who have sacrificed their lives.

Sgt. Denis Kisseloff, 45
Missouri Army National Guard
St. Charles County, MO
KIA May 14, 2010
Tribute video

Sgt. Donald J. Lamar, 23
US Marine Corps
Fredericksburg, VA
KIA May 12, 2010
Tribute video

Sgt. Josh Desforges, 23
US Marine Corps
Ludlow, MA
KIA May 12, 2010
Tribute video

Summer blogging

2010-05-29T01:41:00.004-04:00

I know I scored a good one because he likes to dance with me even (or especially?) in public. This may be the video that chaged our lives...

Even though our friends and I pretty much got kicked out of karaoke tonight (for no good reason, I might add), I had a blast! I love summer, life, love and dancing!