On White Trash

In response to my last post, law girl commented,

I'm sorry, but I will never understand why anyone thinks "white trash" is an appropriate term to describe any group of people. I'm especially surprised that you, a blogger who appears to be very thoughtful and considerate, would use that term. Thanks for letting me comment.

First, you are welcome to comment. I appreciate it when my readers take the time to let me know what they are thinking, and I very much enjoy the thoughts inspired by comments to my blog that I otherwise wouldn't have had.

Second, law girl, you most certainly have a point. Many people find "white trash" to be a disparaging term, and, no doubt many people find its use to be inappropriate. The Rant/flame war on Wikipedia regarding the white trash article, is still very much alive (last post 1/21/06) and helped me understand just how loaded this term is.

Like some of my other posts, my flippant use of a term that offends displays a less than attractive aspect of my true self – I often say and use language in a thoughtless manner. Afterwards, I marvel at my foot in my mouth and wonder how it got there.

But, for better or for worse, I also rarely beat myself up for my use of terms that upset people. I try to be kind, polite, and respectful of others in my day-to-day dealings with the world. I am aware, however, that I am not as successful in my efforts as many kinder, more polite people (whom I admire).

For example, I swear quite often. In public. In my writing. Sometimes in front of children (although I do try not to do so, but sometimes I slip). Why? I'm not sure. I like the power of swear words. I think they convey things that ordinary words can't. Also, I don't want to be locked in a box of politesse at all times. Swearing, for me, is a subtle form of rebellion and affirmation of autonomy in a life lived primarily within the prescribed lines.

I also know that even without swearing, if I express my opinions, I will offend some people. Every time I open my mouth, I am making a choice between saying nothing, and risking offending. I do strive to offend as few as possible most of the time. Occasionally, though, I just give in to my honest thoughts and bare them to the world. Sometimes people laugh. Sometimes people are appalled. And sometimes, no one even notices.

Often, these inadvertent appalling moments occur because I also pride myself on being very honest and forthright. But some have accused me of being brutally honest. At other times, I offend people when I find something funny. Humor is difficult. One man's pain is often another man's laughter.

One lesson that I have learned from E is to embrace the humor in life and laugh at it. Our ability to laugh at the absurdity of life is one of the greatest things about being human. But sometimes, people find laughter at something to which they are sensitive to be hurtful. I certainly have experienced pain when others laughed at something I found hurtful. But I've also been envious, because sometimes, it is only when you can laugh at something that used to hurt you that you know you are healed from the pain.

In this case, I thought I was making a funny comment when I used the term "white trash." Most likely, part of the reason I found it humorous and funny is because I am suffering from that most wonderful of habits whereby those that would be disparaged by a term embrace it as their own. Whether I like it or not, white trash is a commonly used term and many people imagine a certain stereotype when they hear it. Several members of my immediate and extended family (myself included) have and/or do exhibit some of the behaviors that most people imagine when they use the term. Several members of my neighborhood also exhibit behavior that falls into this stereotype. I must admit, however, I was blissfully unaware of the racism inherent in the term, as are my relatives who use it to describe themselves. For us, it is a term to describe a way of life, at worst a classist slur, but one to which any ethnicity can be subject.

I *like* that I live in my neighborhood, and I *like* that there's a working class and occasionally not-so-working class in my neighborhood that reminds me of my family. They are good people. But, on occasion, members of my neighborhood do walk near the edges of my understanding of "white trash" in a way that I find hilariously funny. For example, when a young boy steals (assumed, but makes sense from what I heard the cops say) a blue trans-am, crashes into a white truck with a bumper sticker that says, "gun control means using both hands" and plows across the lawn into someone's home, to me, that's funny.

When writing in my blog, sometimes the power of a stereotypical image is too descriptive and funny to resist. Perhaps if I were a more talented writer I would not fall prey to such an easy cliche. But, I fear the humor may also have been lost if I had made an effort to speak more politely. It didn't occur to me that it might be considered ill-bred or offensive to use the term because it is one that I have embraced on occasion to describe myself, as have many of my family, friends, and I suspect (although I haven't taken a poll) so have many in my neighborhood.

But, law girl does have a point. I most certainly would and do avoid the use of derogative terms that describe groups to which I do not feel that I belong. I avoid those terms for the sake of politeness, to avoid hurting the feelings of the members of those groups, and I carefully structure my language to avoid giving the appearance that I endorse racism, bigotry, and the other negative labels that are applied to those who callously use certain derogatory terms that bring stereotypical images to mind.

So where does this leave me on the white trash issue?

Actually, I'm not certain. My gut instinct was to suggest that perhaps when a group embraces a negative term and makes it their own, there can be some empowerment in that action. Perhaps I'm empowered by my use of the term (without it's modifier "poor" with the "white trash" used to describe the behaviors, not limit the race of those being discussed). But, Wikipedia on Nigga led me to question this idea. I know that I think the use of derogative terms in professional, academic, research, and other serious writing is improper and should be avoided. But, for some reason, I think that when I opt to use a term that historically has been used to negatively describe my ancestors in order to make a joke, it's not offensive, it's healthy.

I want to believe that it's good that I can laugh at the term. Perhaps the humor in this particular situation lies largely in the fact that no one in my suburban, liberal, tech-heavy and multi-cultural neighborhood actual fits into the "white trash" stereotype as a whole (who does?), and yet many of us exhibit some of the behaviors associated with this term. Perhaps the humor for me is in the ignorance of the stereotype when confronted with the complexity of life. I'm not sure. I just find it funny.

Regardless of whether I show my ignorance by making the comment and laughing, however, I am a fan of free speech. I may choose not to use disparaging terms that describe groups to which I don't belong, but I don't want to live in a world where other people can't do so. There will always be the gray area between what I think is polite and what you think is polite, what I think is proper and what you think is proper, etc. The trick is living in a society, civilly, alongside one another, forgiving one another for our idiocy, and ideally, eventually educating each other on why we use the words we do.

In sum, in response to Law Girl's comment, I read some very thought-provoking stuff. (I certainly had never considered whether there was any inherent anti-black racism in the term "white trash".) So, I'm glad I used the term this time. It was educational. I'm not certain whether I'll use it in the future. I know plenty of people who don't find its use offensive, most of whom, like me, have family that fit the stereotype. Even if I decide to continue using it for humor's sake, I'll definitely think about it in a much more complex manner than before. So, thank you, Law Girl.

Free as a Bird

Tuesdays, I don't have class 'til 12:40 PM. I'm sad that when I return to the real world I won't know what it's like to sleep in and work out before thinking about important tasks.

So, this morning, I took full advantage. I slept in briefly, ran 6.5 miles, and then came home to find all the local old people gawking at the street. As I walked towards my house, a fire engine rolled up slowly with its lights flashing and siren on so low that I shook my head to see if I was just filling in the music with my imagination.

Nope. It was a real emergency. I asked the nearest older couple (gotta love the old folks: at least 5 older couples had walked out to the sidewalks in front of their homes -- they didn't go to the scene of the problem, but they were there, observing, commenting, and ready to share with me.) what happened and they pointed and explained. Apparently, a blue Trans Am (yeah, I live in a slightly white trash neighborhood. What?) was driven fast down our sleepy little street by a very young boy, that one, over there [cut to 15-year-old looking kid with a ponytail on his cell phone]. According to the neighborhood watch, he sideswiped a white truck and careened into the house of my acrossed-the-street-neighbor.

It was very exciting stuff for my neighborhood. No one was hurt. I was lucky enough to be having a slow day, so I was back a half a mile instead of on the sidewalk in his path when he careened across my neighbor's lawn.

My morning proceeded in a surreal kind of way after that.

E still hadn't left for work when I returned from my run, which was odd. So, we both went back outside to gawk with the elders at the car, the police, the boy, the firefighters, the lawn, and the perfectly intact across-the-street house.

After we tired of what passes for drama in these parts, I took my shower and loaded my car to 1) go to the post office and mail the invitations and 2) get the bridesmaids' shoes dyed. I gave myself an hour to accomplish both tasks.

I was severely conservative in my estimate. First, there was a line full of crazy people at the post office. There always is. That's one constant. No matter what country, state, or city you are in, there are crazies in line at the post office. I know this. But, I forgot.

Then, when I got to the counter, I found out that my gorgeous invitations are too heavy for the one stamp each that E so carefully affixed last night. So I spent 40 minutes affixing 24 cents of additional postage to each envelope (except the international ones). That's one sticker stamp and one good old fashioned lick-it-and-stick-it stamp per envelope my friends. Fun!

By the time I left the post office, I knew I wasn't going to make it to corporations. At first, I thought of how to get notes, and tried to tell myself that it didn't matter. But then, all of a sudden, I felt like undergrad. I had a flashback to what it felt like to have priorities above school. Not just any priorities, but fun priorities like athletics, sleep, and a social life. And, I smiled. Because I've returned, finally. My wedding is more important to me than today's corporations class.

How decadent!

I just skipped a very expensive, but very boring class to hang out in the post office with the crazies and get those invites in the mail. Then, I went to the cobbler and dealt with the shoes to be dyed. The weather was gorgeous, there was a spring in my step and I found myself walking in the middle of the day during the middle of the week with my sunglasses on -- grinning.

I am a student. I am free to skip class. It's a freedom those in the working world don't have. And today, I took advantage of it -- Finally. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I still haven't read a single page for this semester, but I have managed to locate complete outlines, class notes, and/or lecture slides for each professor/class I'm taking.

I am a 3L, hear me roar.

Papercuts on my tongue

I'm a book nerd, so one of the places where I splurged for the wedding was on the invitations. My love of good paper, ink, and fonts, my sister's adroit hand at drawing curves, plus the expertise of the letterpress gurus in berkeley, resulted in invitations that I absolutely adored. When I first got them I kept pulling them out and looking at them -- how gorgeous they were!

Saturday, I tricked my bridesmaids into toiling in my own private invitation addressing sweatshop. It was stressful to spell names correctly, keep the Dr., Ms., Miss, Mrs., Captain, and Mr.'s straight, and don't even get me started on the southerners' wacky naming conventions. Each mistake was one envelope closer to not having enough invitations. In hindsight, the peace of mind would have been worth the price of an extra 20 envelopes.

E and I just finished stamping and sealing the envelopes. And despite how much I'm proud of and really like the invitations, I'm also sick of 'em and I can wait to get them out of my house and into the loving arms of the postal service tomorrow morning.

Filters off

A combination of life stress, PMS, and hunger combined this afternoon.

While on the phone with CKD, frustrated with how late I was, how I'd missed the turn, and just life in general, I actually said the following, out loud, over the cellular network:


The world's fattest, slowest woman is in front of me on the cross walk. AND SHE WON'T GET OUT OF MY WAY.


Not attractive. Not who I want to be. Not nice. Not something I'd ordinarily say.

But, imminently human. And CKD got a good laugh out of it. May I remember this the next time I'm apalled at someone else's verbal ridiculousness.

Book Report #1

This year, I'm not even attempting to set a pseudo-numerical goal.

I'm just going to keep track of the books I read for my own sake. So far, 2006's list includes:

1. Perfectly Reasonable Deviations From the Beaten Track, a collection of Richard P. Feynam's personal correspondence. Like all of Feynman's writing, it's funny, intelligent, witty and interesting. More than his other books about his life, this book allows you to see the emotions in his personal relationships. It also tells many great stories about the development of particle physics. Grade: A.

2. Harvests of Joy -- How the Good Life Became Great Business. This book tells the story of the Mondavi family through the eyes of Robert Mondavi, the narrator. According to many, Robert Mondavi is single-handedly responsible for changing Napa valley from a wine-growing region to a center for excellence in viticulture, food, & art. Regardless of whether there were others involved in the evolution, Robert Mondavi was an amazingly driven man, often at the expense of his personal relationships. This book tells those stories, as well as the history of Napa valley as it developed, and how love, maturity, and the Italian-immigrant family ties eventually overcome the fractures between Robert and his family. Grade: B.

3. The Tomato in America -- Early History, Culture, and Cookery by Andrew F. Smith. I bought this book because I realized that the possible audience was so small. I am one of very few people who would consider reading it, so I did my duty. It was educational and interesting, although the writing was more academic than I expected (endnotes at the end of every chapter) and the organization was hard to follow at times. Instead of weaving together stories or presenting a single unified theme, the book is true to the history, which means it's all over the place -- in the South people ate tomatoes long before the people in the North did. Some people did think if you ate tomatoes you'd be poisoned. But many others used them in recipes as early as... Overall, it kind of read like a high school research paper. But I learned about the tomato pill wars & the back contains a recipe for tomato pickles from 1831 which I will attempt to use one day, so I did get my money's worth. Grade: C.

Slow Start

Today marks the end of my second week of classes. After today, there's only 13 more Thursdays of class before law school is done. I'm in 15 units this semester, which means quite a bit of work.

So far, I:

1. have attended every class (but grumbled along the way)

2. own 3 of the 43 required/suggested books (the bookstore is doing its best to help me in my read when it's convenient for me plan)

3. bought the local copyshop's version of the outline for my corporations class instead of the book

4. ordered a few more books from amazon and barnes and noble, which may or may not arrive next week.

5. have read 0 pages despite a cumulative assigned and covered reading total of around 400 pages for all of my classes.

Only 13 weeks to go? If I keep up this pace, it's going to be a piece of cake!

Big Boy Bed

For Christmas, E's parents got us a real bed. Box spring and everything. I think E and I may have been the only ones who weren't appalled that we still slept on a futon.

We'd talked about getting a real bed and agreed that it should happen, but we could never find a free weekend to go mattress shopping. So, we continued to sleep on the futon. E's mother, however, is an excellent shopper and did all of the research to pick out a wonderful bed for us. It arrived yesterday and the delivery men set it up in 5 minutes flat.

Last night was the first night we slept on the new bed. I slept just as well as I normally do. Except, of course, I now have a vague fear that I'm going to roll off the bed and fall to the ground. With the frame, box spring, mattress, box spring cover, mattress cover, and mattress pad, the bed is almost as tall as me. The futon was 1 or 1.5 feet from the ground. Sometimes, growing up is hard to do...

Fridge Worthy

I received letter from our local junior college informing me that I am on academic probation and will have to attend a meeting to take more classes in the future.

Including the A that I received in Spanish for last semester (Woo hoo! At least I got one A!), my cumulative GPA is a 1.185.

The best part is, this record will be going to the CA bar committee along with my BS and JD records. [laugh] I love it.

You thought you had a plan?

In La Paz, while E2 and I sipped vacation drinks outside our hotel cafe, we met another American staying at our hotel. He was there, in beautiful La Paz, alone, to wrap up his father's estate. Predictably, he was sad and lonely, but he was also in awe of the beauty of the town and landscape, and clearly, he was enjoying himself on occasion (how could you not smile at being on the beach in 80 degree weather when there were torrential rains at home?).

The guy, M, was from E2's & my alma mater, and lived in the bay area. His father had been sailing for several months and had died of cancer, leaving the boat in La Paz. M was in La Paz to act as his dad's executor and deal with the confusing legal issues (and I thought my US-based wills & trusts exam was hard) all by himself. He didn't speak Spanish, but when we asked if it was difficult, he shrugged and said, "Sometimes it's hard, but I get by."

As he left, I thought to myself, "Yes, that is how it works. Sometimes, it is hard, but we do what we have to do to get by."

We ran into him again on tecolote beach while having a drink and enjoying the view. Turns out he wants to be an IP lawyer, is getting ready to apply to law school, he has a technical degree and some job experience, and was considering taking the patent bar. I gave him every ounce of advice and knowledge I could scrounge up (very few) and volunteered to help him at any time during the process. He seemed to be grateful to have an idea of what he might be pursuing and I felt good to help someone who had so much to deal with at the moment.

Of course, we ran into him again at the the Applebees on the Malecon where all the Americans gathered to watch the Rose Bowl. Later that night, we had a drink with him up on the roof terrace of the hotel and enjoyed one of those only-while-traveling conversations where you bare your soul to strangers. We discussed traveling alone, his father, the boat, and how life jumps up and surprises you no matter how hard you try to be prepared. The next night, he knocked on our door and joined us for dinner with E2's parents. We went out for drinks afterwards and then wished him well on his return the next day.

Certainly, neither E2 nor I planned on spending so much time on our trip with a stranger from our home region. But, that's one of the things I love about traveling, you never know what's going to happen, even if you plan every detail.

Later, on the same trip, I learned that my father has been diagnosed with a fairly serious illness. I volunteered to come home early (not certain if I could do it, but wanting to at least offer to try) but he asked me to stay and enjoy myself.

Immediately, I started changing my plans for the coming months. I resigned from journal. I abandoned my plans to run the marathon. Despite having ran the majority of the miles in preparation, I could not justify one more month of long runs and a trip to Southern california to run a race when I could just run short runs without the training schedule and spend the remaining time with my family. I looked into taking a leave of absence, visiting at a law school closer to my father's home town, and how I could commute from my current law school to my home town on the weekends, if necessary.

Over the next few days, I found it odd that I could sincerely enjoy beautiful baja, the delicious food, and the additional random travel hilarity, while simultaneously wishing I could be with my family, and visiting internet cafes every day to research, email, and discuss health care with my family. But that's one of the beauties of human existence, we can laugh while we cry. And we should if we can, because life is short.

And now, after the first day of classes, I'm back in my hometown. My last semester of law school will be quite different than I planned. I can do what I need to do for the family in a few days each week, and my father would be angry at me (and truly himself) if he felt that I was putting my life on hold for him. So, this semester, I'll be balancing the wedding, law school, and banding together with my family to help my father. I'm going to live in the bay area with E (and try to be a good fiancee) 3-4 days per week and commute to my hometown to be with my family for the other time.

I'm also going to try to take the normal 3L approach. Read? Only if there's time and I feel like it. Class? I'll try to attend so I don't have to read [grin]. I'm not certain when I became such a diligent student -- I skipped plenty of class and winged my way through much of undergrad and I still graduated. Time to get back to my roots!

Much like M enjoying La Paz, I'm going to be able to enjoy some of these changes. Because this happened now, while I'm a student, I can take a leave of absence if need be, and I can take a less serious approach to my studies so that I have the time and ability to go be with my family for half the week. More importantly, I will be able to enjoy excellent meals with my family every weekend this semester. We will be able to gather around the table and enjoy one another as we do on the holidays, but on a much more regular basis. It's something wonderful that we wouldn't have otherwise made the effort to do.

So, my plans for the marathon and journal are out the window. Life had other plans for me. And in hindsight, I needed to meet M in La Paz and see the quiet strength with which he was handling everything with his father. The random travel friend has given me a confidence in my ability to get through this that I couldn't have found otherwise. It's called life. We deal with it as it comes. We take the good surprises with the bad. Because even in the midst of terrible things, there is good to be found.

"Sometimes, it's hard. But I get by."

That's going to be my mantra. Thanks M.

Baja Lessons

If you need to make a left hand turn, sometimes, you just stay to the left and wait for a break, like a reasonable drive. But, at other times, you will need to take the exit to the far right lanes, which are separated from the rest of the camino by dirt, cement, or sometimes, nothing. From there, despite what looks like broken traffic lights, you should stop (no red light, just stop anyways) in the left-most right lane and wait for the green arrow light. When it comes, you will cross all lanes of straight traffic to make a left hand turn (or U-turn).

If you are waiting for someone to meet you at the airport, call them instead of waiting patiently 'til dark. They may still be at home because their flight was canceled due to heavy California rains and flooding. [note: even if your cell phone works in baja, you may not get the voicemail icon]

Losec is generic for prilosec. Immodium is immodium. Both are available along with several other options at every pharmacy. If you are traveling in a group, someone will need this information, guaranteed.

The most unique product I consumed in Baja was Damiana liquor. I only had it in a few margaritas, but it was a hit. At one point on the trip I found myself in a hot tub at a villa surrounded by strangers who were passing a bottle after a night of partying and proclaiming that it made you feel warm, wholesome, happy, and content. In the interests of living to tell the story, I opted to sit in the hot tub, and enjoy the rest of the evening without partaking of the pregnant lady's syrup of happiness and fertility. Good stuff in a margarita, though, if you get the chance.

The desert in Baja has much more vegetation that I expected. In fact, it's very much alive and teeming with life. E2, E2's parents & I drove the eastern route to La Paz from San Jose del Cabo, and then returned on the western route through Todos Santos. Both La Paz and Todos Santos are lovely little towns with quite a bit of Mexican culture. Cabo is, well, it's Cabo -- I consider it the Baja Vegas in many ways. Anyways, the Baja dessert -- it was very different in appearance from the barren deserts between Alexandria and Siwa in Egypt. I think I'd forgotten that the term desert can mean things as varied as the term forest.

I'd forgotten many things: how rich we are in this country and how our opportunities are something to be thankful for, how much I want to speak Spanish fluently, how for every "ugly american" there is at least one person from some part of America with a story you're glad to learn and generosity that makes you proud to be their countrymen, how geography is easiest learned by driving, how the sun looks when it rises over the ocean (and when it sets), how important it is to remember to sleep at least one day a year away, and how the true calamities and stresses of life are not kept from us by money. We are all human, we all die, we all have families (at one point), we all get sick, we all know desire in at least one of its forms, and we are all much more alike than we think when we read/watch/hear the news. Also, we can and should slow down, at least every once in a while.

That being said, it's good to be home. I'm much more appreciative of things like left hand turn lanes, toilet seat covers, toilet paper that doesn't feel like sand paper, drinkable tapwater, fresh vegetables and wine (although to be fair, baja does have it's own offereings, and I did try some of Ensenada's offerings -- a Syrah made by a barbeque joint in La Paz with mounted pigs displaying oversized human male genetalia. The wine was decent though. A bit overpriced for here, but fine for baja, where there isn't much of a wine market.)

Adieu

I woke this morning from a dream where I was arguing with my Wills & Trusts professor over how I didn't deserve an F. She claimed I used language that was too flowery. Wierd way to start the year...

Today, I realized there are 68 days 'til the wedding.

So, like the bride-to-be that I am, I'm going to freak out go on vacation. That's right, I'm off to La Paz (Mexico, not Bolivia) 'til school starts.

Hasta Luego!

2005 Recap

E and I rang in 2005 thousands of miles from home, in Australia. A few days later, on Bondi Beach, E asked me to marry him and I said yes.

After we returned, I worked as an extern for a judge and took one 2-unit class. It was a blissfully relaxing semester, filled with many weekend trips, as well as training for and running my first half marathon. A month later, I did my second one.

So, 2005 will go down as the year I was first a real runner. After the first two races, I put together a very ambitious race schedule. Life got in the way a few times (weather, sick grandfather, required trip with summer law firm, etc.) but for the most part, I ran the races I'd planned to run. My running log totals out at 1,192 miles for the year, slightly over double last year's 583 miles. That's about 22 miles a week, on average. (I'd love to maintain that level of running for 2006, but I'm guessing things like the wedding, the bar, the bar trip, and working as a lawyer may get in the way.)

After a relaxing Spring (where the only tasks requiring discipline outside of work were finishing my journal note and planning the wedding), we started our Summer early with a trip to Puerto Rico. Upon our return, I spent a gluttonous 16 weeks (and 7 pounds--almost 1/2 a pound a week!) as a summer associate, first in transactional IP work, and later in litigation. Summer was ridiculously busy and set the pace for the rest of the year.

Fall semester was rough. The first month, I attended as much of my 16 units of classes as possible while juggling being a bridesmaid in my college roommate's wedding, a trip to Washington DC to accept an award for my journal note, a trip to the South to visit E's family, and my last trip to my hometown before Christmas. 16 units, wedding planning, several weddings, trips, and deciding where to work after law school made the semester fly by. Unfortunately, that level of activity translated into a lack of preparedness which combined with family drama for a perfect storm during finals.

I'd complain, but my December was nothing compared to my father's. For him, the month began with his father being placed on Hospice. Several days later, his father passed away. He went to the ranch, joined the family in celebrating his father's life and then stayed behind to pack up the ranch house and deal with my papa's belongings. Upon his return home, my father checked himself into the hospital with severe abdominal pain, only to be told that he had several lumps and needed biopsies. After his release, his oncologist fell ill and he was forced to wait patiently for the results. While waiting, his dog fell ill and unless she gets better by monday, he will have to put her down.

My last conversation with my father in 2005 ended with him saying, "I can't wait for this year to be over." While the year as a whole was fun and wonderful, I agreed with him about much of December. For some reason, I get the feeling that many people felt that way about the end of this year. So we all can now celebrate. We made it. (Unfortunately, I only managed to read 18 books on my approximately 25 book challenge, but... close enough. Given all the other stuff, I'm calling it a victory.)

Unlike last year, when we were thousands of miles from everyone we knew, E and I began 2006 in our own home with good friends, enjoying good food (I finally have time to cook again!), and good conversation. I'm excited for what this year has in store for us -- it should be just as crazy as 2005, if not more.

Happy New Year!

Ever Notice

that when you haven't spent time or spoken with someone in a long time and you don't have time to catch them up properly on all the important stuff that's happened since you last hung out or spoke, that you have to choose between doing an explanation of the passed time no justice at all or opting for small amusing tidbits that may not tell the whole story but at least give a framed glimpse, and at the same time make you smile?

Yeah, me too.

So, in lieu of a failed attempt at catching you up, I recommend that you watch I heart Huckabees. Best movie I've seen in a long time. Seriously. I think I'm going to buy it and watch it whenever I need a comedic kick in the ass.

Merry Christmas

Even if the "christ" part isn't your thing, I'm wishing you all a happy and healthy set of winter holidays with your family & friends.

My life couldn't be any more different than it was just two short days ago. Since I took my last exam, I've slept at least 10 hours each night, eaten nothing but good food, drank good wine with every evening meal, and hung out with family talking about fun stories from days gone by and playing poker and pinochle.

Yesterday, I did a bunch of stuff I hadn't done in much too long: I went for a long run in the hills [damn I'm out of shape...], relaxed in the hot-tub, and for the first time since September, I'm reading for pleasure. Needless to say, I'm not going to hit 25 books for the year on my approximately 25 book challenge. I could, but I'd have to count my textbooks, and even if I did read some of them cover to cover, that's just wrong. The whole point of the challenge was to read about one pleasure book for every two weeks of the year. I think I'll be able to bust out at least one or two more in the next few days. Mmmm.... holidays.

And I'm Spent

A friend of mine told me that the best advice she'd ever heard about law school was this:


At some point, you will have to deal with something that is ridiculous. It will seem overwhelming. Impossible, even. But it happens to everyone. You will get through it. You will be okay.


Good advice.

This was the most difficult finals period I've spent thus far, both academically, and emotionally.

But it's done.

Happy Holidays.

Hold yourself back

I am so hot right now...

The best thing about finals (other than finals pizza, one click of the internet button away from our local family pizzeria) is that you can wear the same extra large sweatpants and zip-up sweatshirt for days on end.

We're not talking about a J-lo track suit fashion attempt. I'm living in Hanes sweatpants where the crotch of the sweatpants is almost to my knees and the waistband is ALL elastic, easily reaching the middle of my rib cage. The zip up sweatshirt? Oh, it's from JC Penny's finest.

Mind you, I shower, work out in separate workout clothes and change the undergarmets & shirt on a regular basis. But to the outer world, who just sees the basic shell of comfort and slovenliness--it stays the same. It's my way of saying to the world, "Yeah. That's right. I haven't changed my clothes in 2 weeks. What are you gonna do about it?"

(Note: I'm not, however, cool enough to actually wear this outfit for the exams. Perhaps next semester...)

Update

Another 7 units down.

Wills & Trusts: What? Not really sure. Feel like I was hit by a train.

Legal Ethics: God bless the final paper. Turned in. Done.

Now all I've got are the 3 units of my non-profits exam to do on 12/22. Eyes on the prize. Tonight's off, and then it's 2 days of hard-core studying to be done on Thursday...

Almost.

There.

Finals are fun for everyone

Not only are finals great for me, they provide E with an endless array of entertainment too.


E [standing behind me, looking at my Wills & Trust outline]: What's a benis? [pronounced like penis]


[Note: Benis is how I abbreviate "beneficiaries" in my notes, but now I just can't see the word without laughing]


E: Dude -- it's a nerd party in here. [In ref to H & I furiously flipping through books and typing on our respective laptops.]
BT: Are you having fun making fun of us?
E: Totally. It's just like high school, only backwards.

Challenging the Standard Law School Thinking

In the interests of taking a short break from Wills & Trusts (to which I will dutifully return for at least one more hour on this fine Friday evening), I present the following:

Before the beginning, I had silly dreams of going to a local private school whose fees were roughly twice of those of my public school. Since then, the gap between the two has narrowed sharply, but I still had a very nice realization in the shower the other day. (Yeah. That's right. The shower. What? I was trying to make a point...)

Private school did me a huge favor by rejecting me.

I'll be graduating at least $40,000 less in debt thanks to their good judgment. I know the standard law school rule is that you go to the best school that you get into. But, for any of you pre-law kids thinking about where to go, I'd like to offer an observation from where I'm sitting: for me, the standard logic doesn't work.

Let's assume I had been accepted to Private school, graduated, and passed the bar (large assumptions, but work with me here) instead of attending my school: I'd have the same letters after my name, I'd have received roughly the same quality of education (after 2.5 years at my institution and discussions with students at Private school, I sincerely believe this) I'd probably have more or less the same type of job lined up, and I'd probably have a different set of interesting friends in place of the great ones I've made. Assuming the alternative is that I do graduate from Public school and pass the bar (fingers crossed), the Private school alternative is a wash. A different path on the choose-your-own adventure with all sorts of unexpectables, no doubt, but the 10,000 foot view is roughly equivalent. The take home, for me, at least, is that it doesn't matter.

But wait. Had I gone to Private school, I'd be in at least $40,000 more debt. In exchange for that privilege, I'd have a fancier school name on my resume and I wouldn't have had to commute as far. But the people who would prefer to hire me, know me, or whatever, because of the fancy private school name -- I can live without 'em. So for me, personally, it comes down to the commute and the money. And in hindsight, I'm happy to trade the commute for the money, although in the moment, I probably would have gone with the herd.

So, after I had the shower realization (thanks for the rejection, guys!), I did some back of the envelope calculations. And when the numbers started to look ridiculous by estimation, I did the real math. Turns out, this year I saved $13,103 by attending public school over private school. In 1L and 2L, it was significantly more (I believe when I entered, it was a savings of over $20,000 a year).

To attend public school, I commute about 1.5 hours a day over what I'd have to commute to private school, had I been accepted. I spend a bit on gas, but I'd have to pay for an expensive parking pass at Private school. I'd guess that I have about a $5 a day extra outlay in terms of parking and gas over what I'd have to pay for Private school's gas and parking. Come the close of the year, I will have attended approximately 115 days of class and finals and weekend law school events. That's 177.5 hours of commuting and $575 worth of additional expenses. Which means I saved $12,528 by commuting, or about $70.58 an hour. (First year, with the lower tuition, it was probably well over $100/hr.)

Had I been accepted to both schools and elected to go to public school, the $70.58/hr of commuting that I saved would be easily the highest hourly compensation I have ever earned (with the exclusion of very short one-off projects). That alone would have made it a smart decision for me, had I had the option of making it.

More important for challenging the standard law school wisdom, however, is that $70.38/hr is a higher hourly rate than the highest compensation that a 1st year firm lawyer at one of the highest paying firms can expect to earn. If you assume a 40 hour week and no bonus, then even the 1st years at Skadden don't "earn" as much money per hour for their toils as the student who opts to earn/save a bit by commuting 1.5 hours a day to attend Public school over Private school.

With the 40-hour week, 50 weeks a year, and no bonus assumptions, the few theoretical law students who end up at Skadden are making less per hour ($70/hr, to be precise) than I am during my high-earning commute hours.

This model is probably conservative. In reality, I probably "earn" significantly more per hour for commuting than the average Skadden 1st year because a 40-hour week is unreasonably low, and it is unlikely that bonuses work out to anything more than $70/hr. Both of those realities would make the Skadden 1st year "earn" even less than me on my commute. Also, I commute with friends several trips a week, which is an enjoyable experience that has allowed me to develop wonderful relationships and, in general, has been one of the better aspects of my law school experience. I'm certain that the laughing conversations we have on the way to and from school are less demanding and more enjoyable than at least some of the hours as a 1st year at a firm.

In sum, I'm so thankful Private school rejected me. I'm better off. I'm happy to be where I am. I was also, in all likelihood, too foolish to see the reality through my pre law-school glasses. Had Private school accepted me, I probably would have gone. It's great when life is smarter than you are. Just great.

Okay. Back to Trusts. No, seriously. I swear.

Disappointment

I've had exams I felt were graded poorly, worded poorly, or an unfair test of the material we covered. I've felt the sting of the surprise bad grade when I thought I knew the material and did well on an exam. I've even felt the surprise of a better than expected grade due to a friendly curve. But yesterday's corporate and partnership tax was the first time on a law school exam where I've felt the sheer disappointment of just not being prepared.

I knew how difficult the material was. I had done enough over the course of the semester to know what I needed to do to be prepared for the exam. But I didn't do it. And I took the exam unprepared. Each of the essay questions was a problem that I know I could have done in the allotted time had I practiced them, but without the recent practice I was slow.

Much too slow.

I even guessed on several of the last few questions -- not multiple choice guessing, mind you, I'm talking about essay exam guessing. As in making up transactions and asserting that they might be subject to non-recognition without any statutory support and a vague memory of something that may or may not be true about a transaction that may or may have looked like the one I made up.

Four hours later, I left the exam, frustrated and very disappointed. Tax is a very fair class. If you prepare and do the problems correctly on the exam, you will get all of the points. I like the material. The exam covered enough that you didn't have time to figure it out during the exam, but if you knew how to do the problems, you absolutely could have done well.

But I was not well enough prepared.

With an unfair exam, a surprising grade, or a rough curve, the disappointment stems from the fact that the grade is not representative of how well you knew the material. But I'm not really that hung up on my grades -- they don't represent how well I know the material and as long as I feel good about what I learn, both the sting and the happiness from grades usually dissolves in a day or two. I'm here, I'm going to graduate and life's not fair, so it doesn't surprise me that law school grades aren't fair either.

But this time, for the first time since I started law school, I knew that I just didn't know the material. (I'm sure I didn't know the material in other exams as well, but at least I'd put in enough work to *think* that I knew the material.) And, so, this time, I'm very disappointed in myself, as opposed to my grades.

Clearly, instead of wallowing, the best approach would be to focus on getting all of the material from wills & trusts into my head to avoid a repeat. Yeah... I'll get on that.

Not the best use of time

After all of my frustration with the lack of normative scores for the MPRE, I passed.

It's a relief.

What's hilarious is that I thought I was eating sh*t on the practice exams. Knowing that California required a 79 and not really knowing what a 79 scaled score meant, I somehow felt that I should shoot for above 79% correct, and then I could be okay (does this make any sense at all? No. Of course not.) So, I studied for several days and really tried to know the material. As a result, I didn't just pass, I tested "ethical" enough to be a lawyer in every state that accepts the MPRE, and I have quite a few points left over too. In hindsight, I should have been using that MPRE cram time to prepare for class (perhaps finals wouldn't be so rough if I had) or just relax.

So, for those of you who were wondering, if you are missing between 13-17 out of 50 on the MPRE practice exams -- stop studying. You will be fine, regardless of your State.

Formalism

Contracts. Wills. Weddings. Funerals.

Ceremonial steps to make sure that all involved are aware of what's really going on. Notification to the world. Historical hoops to jump through because that's what the ages tell us we should do -- and part of how we all recognize what's going on is the simple compliance with tradition for tradition's sake. It's how many injustices are perpetrated throughout the ages, and for much of my life, I was a questioner. I refrained from accepting even the most simple of traditions without asking "why?" Occasionally, I even went so far as to upset those closest to me with my refusal to partake in a ceremony if I couldn't understand the rationale behind the motions.

Given that introduction, it shouldn't be surprising that I think of myself as spiritual, but not particularly religious. However, I had a Lutheran education as part of my upbringing, and all the big events of my family history have been loosely tied to Christianity. I haven't so much rejected religion as found a way to be spiritual in my own way that doesn't require a congregation, sermons, adherence to a particular brand of dogma, and allows for more questioning, philosophy and incorporation of the useful bits from other religions, cultures and my own personal life experience.

In keeping with that approach, this morning, I waited 'til all the family had left and I took some time by myself to walk around the ranch and say my goodbye to my papa on his land. It was where he wanted me to remember him, it was where he was born, where he died, where I will always picture him, and it's beautiful. I cried, sobbing in the open air, gasping for breath with the reality of his passing and how I'll never see him again. But I knew he was in pain at the end, that he had a full life to be celebrated, and that he was ready to go, so finally, I looked around me, looked up, took a deep breath and prepared myself for the funeral. I had completed my personal, spiritual goodbye and could be there to support my family at the traditional, formalistic one.

I was surprised to find, however, that hearing Eccleasiastes 3, Psalm 23, and saying the Lord's prayer in unison with over one hundred fellow mourners was balm to my stormy soul. The words washed over me and helped the primal part of me understand what my conscious mind was in the painful process of accepting -- it was time to say goodbye. This is how we do it. This is the real thing.

And I think, on some level, that is why I switched from one who didn't believe in weddings or marriage, to one who is struggling with the details of implementing one. Long ago, E and I understood our personal commitment to one another, but the act of being joined as man and wife in a wedding ceremony will formalize the reality. There is something amazing, awe-inspiring, soul-quieting, and hyperreal about taking part in a ritual that has been passed down through untold numbers of generations. Today, a part of me embraced the ritual to help me truly accept my Papa's passing. The connection to my history was more comforting than I could have imagined.

I understood the calming effect much more as I watched my niece today, almost four years old, too young to really understand what was going on, but old enough to comprehend some of it. She's been through the ritual once now. It's part of her, and on some level, because we were all crying and tried to explain that she can't see Papa anymore, some part of her knows what these steps mean. Someday, when she needs it most, the memories of today will sweep up from her subconscious and explain to her what is happening at a funeral where she needs to accept an incomprehensible loss and grief. Most importantly, she will remember that it's a part of life, and that we all got through it.

Formalism. What a fascinating human thing.

I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date

I'm nowhere near where I should be on my studies for this set of finals. Despite how little time I have left, I'm still at the overwhelmed and confused stage in most of my classes. I suspect I may have to take the exam in that state for at least a couple of 'em.

Yesterday, as part of my oh-so-productive studies, I spent about half an hour getting my head around the proposed regulations for penalizing disqualified persons who engage in excessive benefit transactions with their respsective non-profit organizations. Then I opened the supplement and read the ominous words: "replace pages 511-518 with the following pages." Yup, turns out, the proposed regs were enacted, with changes. Time to unlearn and relearn.

I have no one to blame but myself. Awesome.

Marathon procrastination

Although my knee is still purple, I was able to do my long run today.

I couldn't find the entrance to the Alviso Slough trail so I parked at the Environmental Education Center and ran around 'til I finished my scheduled 17 miles. My run took me through Alviso town, office parks in San Jose, the Mallard slough, which was closed for hunting season (huh?), and finally, a few miles on the Alviso slough loop. I'll know how to find it next time -- it's beautiful, empty of people, and full of birds.

Somewhere around mile 14, I made it back to my car for refreshments. I wouldn't have believed it 'til I tried it, but it turns out that Vanilla Bean Gu tastes pretty good when you wash it down with lemon-lime gatorade. Who knew? After the GU and gatorade, the last 4 miles were much easier than the last 4 of the 15 miler I did two weeks ago. So, either I'm getting better at distance, or the Gu helps. Either way, it's encouraging.

After driving to and around Alviso for 30 minutes (because I was unable to find the marina entrance), the long slow run, the brief stop in the Environmental Center to get a trail map and say hi, the drive home, and a nice hot shower, it's 2:30 PM, I'm tired and I've yet to crack a book, plus I still need to eat. But, damn, I haven't been this relaxed in days. And that, my friends, is why I do it.

Throw another log on the fire

I woke up in the middle of the night with stomach issues. They did not resolve themselves during the rest of the night. Now, I'm scared of our local sushi joint, feel like ass, and had to skip today's run. This is definitely one of the lower points in my life over the last few years.

I realize, however, just how ridiculously lucky I am to consider it a low point when the major negative is simply that I must simultaneously deal with: law school finals (lucky enough to get in, attend a good school, afford the education), be only slightly sick (in truth, I've got my health, my body is just annoyed with me), be in the difficult part of planning a wedding (I'm lucky enough to be marrying my soulmate), and dealing with the timely and peaceful passing of my grandfather (because even good stories come to an end).

No shocking and untimely loss. No famine. No trauma.

Basically, I'm whining a little bit. But, I wanna, so I'm indulging briefly before I go study all day. Apologies.

Antonio? Alexander? I thank you both!

Since my sister moved back to our home town, I'm the only one of my siblings and parents who lives more than 5 miles away from the others. I live a 3 hour drive away, so, generally, I feel lucky -- I'm able to see my family fairly often.

But last night, when my father called to tell me that my grandfather passed away, that 3 hour drive was a curse. I've never wanted to be in my hometown so badly and I've never felt so far away from those I need and who need me the most.

The phone partially bridged the distance, but not entirely. My sister called me, her words rushing out quickly between deep choppy breaths. Over the phone, I tried to calm her down. My dad and I spoke several times. He alternated between choked up, fine and possibly in denial, and tired. Each time, I tried to listen hard enough to understand what he might be looking like and feeling. The first time we spoke, my brother talked slowly and quietly in his deep voice and sounded as if he might be crying a bit, something I don't think I've seen since he was 14. I just wanted to give him a hug. I wanted to give them all hugs, but I missed my brother more than I thought possible. He and I weathered many childhood storms together, and I learned last night that his mere presence calms me, reassures me, and reminds me that this too will pass, and we'll get through it.

My main concern was my father: he's had a difficult year and had taken his father's illness very hard. Plus, he lives alone. I asked my brother if he and my sister would go and make sure my father was okay. Many phone calls later (dad: "I'm fine, I just want to sleep." sister: "Dad's being a jerk, I'm still going over to get a hug." brother: "yeah, we're going over there, just briefly though.") it sounded as if my siblings were going to be able to comfort each other and my father. 150 miles away, I relied on E and waited for my sister to call me after they left to tell me how my dad was doing.

I also did some thinking and decided that part of the reason my dad probably was reluctant to see his kids was because he's overwhelmed and knows that they are upset too -- perhaps he didn't want to feel obligated to care for them instead of himself. So, I did one of those over-reaching things that only family can get away with. I looked up one of my dad's best friends' phone numbers, called him, and told him that my dad's father had passed away. I asked him if he'd mind looking in on my father tomorrow. B, the friend, told me that my father had been in bed with the flu (didn't know that either...) and that he'd definitely stop by to make sure everything was okay in the morning. My papa's death was not my message to deliver, but I wanted to be reassured that someone who wasn't directly involved in the sadness would be there to support my father. I knew it was the type of action that could have gotten my father frustrated with me, but I didn't care.

After they left my father, my sister called, sad but calmed. She told me that B called dad while she and my brother were visiting and that dad was touched and wondered how B knew. When I heard that, I felt relieved, because even though I wasn't there, I was able to do something to support my dad last night.

When my brother got home, he and I stayed on the phone for an hour. We talked about everything and nothing, caught up, listened to my niece sing christmas carols and made plans for the holidays. It wasn't quite the same as waiting out the storm with him in person, but it was much better than nothing.

At the end of the night, 150 miles away, I felt pretty okay about the whole thing. I was included and I helped. All of this, of course, would not be possible without the telephone. While I may prefer email for quotidian communications, there is no substitute for the human voice in emotionally charged situations. So, Antonio Meucci, Alexander Graham Bell, and all the others (?), I sincerely thank you.

Procrastination II

I am not being particularly productive on my corp and partnership tax studying today. I am officially 1/15 done. Yes, I took the time to calculate that.

But, I've finished tons of wedding stuff: working on the invitations, the wedding website, getting engagement pictures printed, plans for the tasks I must complete with the family when I'm home for the holidays, etc. Every time I get a little bored with school, I can think of just one more detail that must be taken care of.

And though I'm annoyed that I'm not getting as much done as I should, I'm elated that we decided not to get married after the bar.

No matter how disciplined I like think I am, it is clear that I do not have the discipline to execute that kind of plan.

Procrastination

World, welcome Aaron I. Wright to blogland.

He's an amazingly talented Musician who's studying philsophy. His music and musings make for great excuses not to study.

Wedding Expectations

Back in the working world, I once had a manager who was very fond of the phrase, "I just need to manage their expectations better." It was his catch-all. He used it to explain every failure, frustration, and problem that he encountered, be it with his superiors, his colleagues, the members of his team, customers, or even, on occasion, when referring to his wife and children.

Repetitive language annoyance aside, he's got a point. Perhaps management really is simply that one thing, in any context (which is not to say that it's easy). I say this because I'm finding that if there's one thing about the wedding that is frustrating, it's dealing with conflicts between everyone's expectations (not the least of which is my own).

When we started planning, I was operating under the assumption that since E and I are throwing the wedding, our definitions of appropriate, fun, etc, would be the controlling ones. I'm not the kind of girl who always dreamed of the perfect wedding, so I figured I would be an easy bride, the whole wedding stress thing would not be a problem, and I figured that since E & I would be the ones with the ultimate say, it would be a piece of cake to make most of the decisions. E and I have different ideas about what this whole wedding thing should/could entail, but after we compromised on no elopement in exchange for a wedding party, E's pretty much on the "whatever you want is fine, honey" plan because he was raised by a mother whose wedding mantra is, "the bride should be the princess for the day." (Talk about a lucky on the family-in-law hand.)

So, I walked into this whole thing assuming it would be easier for me than for most. I've got reasonable expectations (or so I think), and our parents are relatively hands off because we are throwing the wedding ourselves.

But, while no one explicitly disagrees with the idea that it should go according to our plan, many of our friends and family approach the wedding with their own pre-conceived ideas about how it's supposed to work. Sometimes those ideas conflict with ours and we find ourselves in a situation where we have to decide between asserting our opinion and letting it be known that we disagree and would like it to be different than the assumed position, or opting to take the path of least resistance in a desire to not offend people.

For example, I've had a few awkward conversations with people who obviously assume they are invited. We have a budget and guest limit. Unfortunately, several of our close family friends are not able to be on the invitation list and our parents have had to convey their apologies. Also, many of our day-to-day friends are not on the list. Of course, we would love for all of these people to be able to celebrate with us. But it's not feasible. And, while our parents seem to be handling their end just fine, I'm finding myself at a loss for how to manage the expectations of our friends. If I say nothing, I fear they will continue to operate under the assumption that they are invited and will have their feelings hurt when they are not.

These conversations are often over before I even have a chance to sort out how I feel. A recent one went something like this:

When is your wedding? [BT answers]
Where? [BT answers]
Oh, how wonderful. I can't wait to go. It's going to be so much fun. Where are you registered? [BT freezes like a deer in headlights]
Oh, you're probably so overwhelmed with details, don't worry about it. Macy's is nice...


While I'm frozen, I'm usually racing through a million thoughts, including: does friend really think they are going to be invited? And they just asked me where they can get a gift to make their assumption known? Isn't that simultaneously sweet and rude? (that's me bringing one of my childhood expectations into the fray, because the theme is that everyone has their own set of expectations, and the stress is where they collide.) How long have we known friend? How well do we know friend? Did we mess up, should we have invited friend instead of Parent's Cousin Carol in Wyoming? Are we going to have to interact with friend in the future? Is friend going to be very hurt by not being invited?

When I told E about the first conversation I had like this, he said he'd had a couple at work that ended with him saying, "dude, you're not invited." The other guy said, "oh, that's cool man." So the corollary to the weddings are more stressful than you think rule is that it's MUCH less stressful for guys. Guaranteed that none of his engineer friends are trying to do anything thoughtful when he efficiently lets them know that they didn't make the invitation cut.

Another place where the expectations collide is with members of the bridal party. They also have their own ideas about what their commitment should mean in terms of how much say they get in the orchestration of the event, how much it should cost, how much effort they should put forth, when they should have to arrive, whether they should have to transport themselves, and how much of their input is required or necessary. These are our closest friends. To learn that there is such a gap in our baseline assumptions of how this is going to play out is surprising. I'm finding that my closest friends and family make choices that I wouldn't have made as a bridal party member, that I don't understand, and often, my gut instinct response is to feel hurt by their actions. This is where I need to manage my own expectations better.

I'm learning that I assumed people would want to defer to my opinions on style much more than they actually do. I was looking at it from the perspective that it is our wedding and we have to look at our pictures for the rest of our lives, so we should get to decide how they will look. But, the other side of it is that the people in the bridal party need to feel included, they want to be comfortable and feel good about being in front of all of those people too, and it may not be possible for them to do so within my idea of style, or with a consistent style between all of the different expectations.

So basically, when people talk about how stressful a wedding is, I wonder if they really mean that it's stressful to manage everyone's expectations so that the day ends up being as close to as fun, celebratory, solemn, and wonderful as all the different parties would like it to be. Certainly, that's what I'm finding the most difficult. We started with the idea of eloping, or a small destination wedding. But, we had to chuck that plan for the sake of our family. And, it's been one long quest to navigate the maze of everyone's hopes and expectations ever since.

In the course all of this, I'm learning quite a bit about myself, E, our family, and friends. In particular I'm learning that some of my opinions that I assumed were shared are not. I'm also learning that some of my opinions that I thought I had previously voiced surprise even those that are closest to me. In other words, I'm learning that people who I thought knew me well know me less well than I thought, and that I also know those that I thought I knew well less well than I assumed. There's something very stressful about that. How could they not know those things about me? How could I not know those things about them? Do they have a completely different idea of who I am than who I really am, and are they not going to like the bits of me that they don't know? And why am I having feelings like this about the people with whom we have our strongest relationships?

Putting on a huge party for those closest to you to celebrate the union with the person you love is such an expression of identity, love, and life, that's its bound to come with many complications. I just had no idea how many. It's very humbling.

Rant Against ExamSoft

My school, like many law schools and many state bars, requires you to install SofTest onto a windows laptop, register it, and bring it to the exam pre-registered, if you want to take your exam on a computer.

First year, this irked me because I primarily used linux as my operating system of choice. But, back then, it wasn't really a problem, because my laptop dual booted, so I installed the software on the not-so-often used windows partition and took my exams with it. Then, one day during my second set of finals, my old laptop died. I couldn't prove it, but suspected that at least part of its death was attributable to the terrible exam software that eviscerates Windows whenever it reboots into "secure mode" and then tries to go back in and tie up the entrails after each secure mode use.

So, when I got my dream laptop, I fearfully installed the exam software. I've taken three sets of exams on it, and the exam software seemed to work okay. Not great. But not disastrous. There's always a fearful minute or 10 while all the laptops in the exam room reboot into "secure mode." We're all hoping that we won't be the one whose laptop fails to play nicely on the day of the exam. There's usually at least one person in every exam.

Really, law school is all about the little things: the nice little added fun of computer russian roullette on exam day, for example.

Recently, I upgraded to the most recent version of the softest. Since doing so, I've bluescreen twice in 24 hours. I do not think this is a coincidence. I've installed no other new drivers recently and the stop code points to:


0x0000000A: IRQL_NOT_LESS_OR_EQUAL
Typically due to a bad driver, or faulty or incompatible hardware or software. Use the General Troubleshooting of STOP Messages checklist above. Technically, this error condition means that a kernel-mode process or driver tried to access a memory location to which it did not have permission, or at a kernel Interrupt ReQuest Level (IRQL) that was too high. (A kernel-mode process can access only other processes that have an IRQL lower than, or equal to, its own.)


I know that softest does its job by sloppily replacing a bunch of REALLY important windows system files with its own versions. Additionally, it would not surprise me if the act of installing and running Softtest breached the Windows license that most of us have on our laptops. If so, the irony of many state Bars and law schools requiring students and would-be lawyers to commit copyright infringement in order to take an exam is too precious.

Honestly, I'm not too upset about the forced possible copyright infringement. I'm sure I accidentally breach the terms of my Windows license on accident all the time -- that thing is pretty limiting, and possibly not enforceable in all aspects, but that's another discussion entirely (not to mention that who wants to sue microsoft?).

I am upset that in order to take exams on a computer, I have to permit my computer to be injured. But, because I'd hate hand-writing for 4 hours (I'm not even certain I could do it, at this point) I do it. I'm mainly frustrated because I'm certain that the educational and bar administrators who contract with Examsoft have no idea to what they are subjecting their students' and bar-exam-takers' computers. This latest rash of blue-screens has me reconsidering my decision -- perhaps I should just remove the software and hand-write. I'd hate to lose an outline during the study period -- perhaps I'd hate the loss more than handwriting my exams? Who knows.

I'm also offended for people like Transmogriflaw who have to keep a separate "exam computer" just for the privilege of taking exams on a computer (although, if I had a junker, I'd consider it, just to keep softtest away from my computer).

While I understand the concerns about cheating, I have to assume there is an easier way to solve this problem in software at the application level (for example by disabling cut and paste from external sources? keeping a timer of when the app is in the foreground and maximized? Grabbing a copy of the message queue during the entire time the application is running and attaching it to the file when the exam is saved?). Add a good application level solution with warning to people that they will be caught, they are on their honor to report anyone they see in a different application, etc. etc. and you've got a halfway decent, cheaper, and less invidious solution. Also, open-internet exams would be a cinch... enable cut-and-paste and don't attach the log file or check the message queue.

[/rant concluded]

Foreshadowing: it's not just for movies

At mile 2 of my run today, the kid in front of me flew over his handlebars and caught himself on the pavement with his hands in a painful-looking pushup. He made an odd "oouuuffff" as he flew. It was quite a spectacle.

4.89 miles later, I made the same noise and found myself on the sidewalk in roughly the same odd pushup-like position. Bruised knee. Skinned palms. I limped away.

I couldn't see myself, but I'm pretty sure that I put on the better show.

I mean, come on, I'm a lady, pushing thirty, jogging slowly through a residential neighborhood in an oversized sweatshirt and baggy pants. Imagine if I tripped and bailed on the sidewalk in front of your house, flying forward while shooting, "ooufff" before I stood up and limped away.

I would have laughed at me...

Foot-in-mouth disease


BT: Ooohhh... I have a ton of lexis points. Maybe I'll get the coach purse. I mean I wouldn't normally buy one, that's just appalling (yes, I did actually use this word), but I'll take one for free.

H: Like this one? [holds up her purse]

BT: Errr....


I could try to spend multiple paragraphs explaining how I'm just generally opposed to paying a premium for the privilege of advertising for a brand, etc. etc. But, it'll probably just come out wrong like it did earlier today.

Gotta love it when you're in finals study mode and none of your words, whether on the computer screen or out of your mouth, are successfully communicating what you mean.

Rad.

Also, I'm about 2 days behind on my study schedule thanks to underestimating my final paper for ethics (1 unit's worth of credit, jeez...) and the stupid journal article.

Love finals. Just love 'em.

Dyeable Shoe Store--DON'T DO IT

If you are looking to buy dyeable shoes for any reason (I know, I know... tacky, but what's a girl on a budget to do?), do NOT use dyeableshoestore.com.

They do not have any stock, but they sure have lots of pictures, and you'll place an order thinking the sizes and pictures mean something about the stock that they carry. The site will charge your credit card for the transaction as you place it. The next day, the owner/operator will call you to inform you of all the problems she encountered trying to place your order with the wholesalers, and how you need to go with different shoes/shipping/etc.

But, I didn't order different shoes or a different shipping period. Presumably for a reason? Like, mmmm.... I don't know, perhaps, I didn't want to by any of the other shoes you carry, that's why I selected these ones? Or, perhaps I need them by a certain time and that's why I paid for expedited shipping?

Also, note that if you can't come to an agreement on all of the replacement shoes before the end of the business day, they'll ship what portion of the order they can fill on its own. When you call the next day, they'll happily place a separate order for the "replacements" you selected and charge you separately for the second shipment
as well.

AVOID, AVOID, AVOID.

That is all.

It's ba-aackkk...

I was up 'til 3:30 AM last night. I FINALLY finished the Journal Article that ate San Francisco. After 3 (count-em) failed email attachment attempts, I managed to rid myself of the thing.

Amped, it took me a while to fall asleep.

I had no reason to get up early today.

But, I woke at 9:15, ready to start the day with the all-too-familiar subtle panic: it's finals prep time (of course, I was dreaming about the wedding, so that could be contributing to my feeling of overwhelm, but regardless).

This is ridiculous. Doesn't my body know I'm a 3L?

It's about time

Skynyrd and Miles under one roof. Finally.

An Easy Decision

If 3L plus a wedding is any indication of how busy I'll be as a lawyer, I may not need to decide whether to quit blogging, go the honest route and disclose the blog to the firm, or not disclose and accept the risks of continuing my existence as a thinly-veiled anonymous blogger.

I have no time to post. Duh, I have no time to do anything. Hence, when I finally sit down to blog, I find that I can't remember the amusing tidbits that are the blood and guts of good blog-worthy material. Also, I'm just not that amusing. I crack myself up, but others... not so much. So, I need spare time to take note of funny things, remember to write about them, and edit. Lately, I'm short on the spare time, or perhaps my priorities have been reordered, so I've been writing about the mundane things in my life, which are, of course, interesting to me, but not so much so to others. I fear I've become one of them. You know them: the "here's-what-I-ate-for-breakfast" or better yet "here's what I did today, in bulleted list" crew.

So, in an effort to embrace my mediocrity before it whimpers into non-existence, and in a desire not to disappoint, I'd like to add that Thanksgiving was great:

• Deep Fried Turkey: E'd been talking this up for the last 5 years. Apparently, the Californian version isn't quite as good. I'll agree that the meat was some of the most moist I've ever had, although I was disappointed that it wasn't quite like KFC, which is how I pictured it. All-in-all, it was not the life-altering experience I'd hoped for. Also, there were no mashed potatoes. I think I'm still a little angry about this and may be taking it out on the southern turkey. But, say what you will about the substitution of sweet potatoes for mashed potatoes (can't it be both?), I've never been able to sit outside in 40 degree weather and watch father-aged men slowly lower a brined and (hopefully) dried turkey into oil boiling at 300 degrees. It's a risky endeavor. Every year, someone burns down their house. The meat tastes so much sweeter because of the fear. Of course, this is done with wine in hand at 1 PM EST. So, basically, Thanksgiving in the south rocks.



• Tuesday-to-Saturday: If you must fly cross-country for turkey day, and can fly on the T-S schedule instead of the W-Su schedule, I highly recommend it. I can't go so far as to say it was a pleasure, but it was much better than any holiday travel in recent memory.



• 15 miles: Today's run of 15 miles was faster than last weeks 14-miler, but more difficult. This was after sticking to my running schedule by running in Atlanta and the North Georgian hills, which should have prepped me quite well. Right about now, I'm exhausted. 3 hours is a long time to be out for a training run. The water, carnitas enchiladas, two baskets of chips, and margarita afterwards, however, were some of the best food I've ever eaten.



• Surreal Saturday: E pointed out that he woke at 6:30 AM PST (which is unheard of on its own--he's a programmer) to go shoot clay in a clearcut beneath power lines in the North Georgian mountains. Then, we ate lunch at the general store (I'm not making this up), drove into town, hopped on the plane, flew across the country, drove home, and headed to the local Californian Irish pub to celebrate the 40th birthday of someone we didn't even know (Gotta love the Irish, if you're friends with one of 'em, you're invited to all of their fun). Not the average cultural experience of anyone, really. At this point, you have to say, "only in America" and then give thanks. It's the weekend of the day for it, yo.



• Southern Bacon: Tonight's dinner of 12 bean soup is in its final stages on the stove. The house smells like liquid smoke (and not a little bit). E warned me not to add any salt to the soup (I pointed out that the celebrated bacon may be delicious, but that perhaps because it comes from tobacco country, it's not for the most sensitive palate...). If nothing else, the bacon will add a unique and strong flavor to the soup... we'll have to see. Thankfully, we've got a whole 'nother half pound to use in the upcoming weeks. Seeing as how finals studying starts on Tuesday, you know there will be culinary procrastination like no other. Stay tuned for tales of the salty and smokey. God bless the South.

I am thankful. This is a great country and I am blessed to have such great family, friends and E. That is all.

A Brief Respite

I emerged victorious from my week of self-scheduled hell. My final trial for trial ad went reasonably well. I made objections by instinct, which was interesting -- when did I develop that instinct? I also forgot to enter the gun into evidence, but thank goodness for redirect...

After my week of late nights and trial prep, I basically finished what I wanted to finish more or less (a few journal things to sort out, but nothing huge), and am on schedule to jump into the next set of madness.

But, before I jump in, I actually managed to earn myself about 3 days between the end of trial ad and the flight to thanksgiving with E's family when I can relax and enjoy life and just do the ordinary reading and going to class that makes being a student flexible and easy.

This weekend, I put some of that precious-as-gold free time to good use by going to Big Game and watching Spitfire Levy step up and make his dad cry and all of us cheer. Good Job. Love the underdog. Love it. Think I need to rent Rudy.

Today, I ran the scheduled 14 miles on my marathon training program. I'd skipped Friday's run for trial prep, so I should have been in great shape for it. But, it was the longest run I've done. Ever. It's also much, much, longer than any distance I've ever ran by myself. I ran slowly, thought about whatever came to mind, drank water at every fountain I passed, and walked to warm up and cool down for a total of almost 15 miles in 3 hours. I can't believe how long a marathon is going to (a) feel on my legs, and (b) take in real time. I guess that's why you start building up the mileage several months ahead of time...to get used to the mental focus and the physical output. I'm slightly overwhelmed at what I've signed myself up for.

Finally, I leave you with a terribly funny joke from H (with whom E and I had French food for dinner):


How many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb?

...
...
...
...
...
...

Fish.


I couldn't stop laughing. Perhaps I'm slap-happy?

Big Week

I just got back from a 7 hour Wills & Trusts review. Now, I just need to fit my running, reading, finishing the journal article from hell, commuting, going to class, eating, and preparing for my final trial in ad trial on Saturday in the next 136 hours.

In order to do so, I'm going MIA for all non-required law school activities 'til Saturday afternoon. Wish me luck.

I'm all about da bling

My blog is worth $6,209.94.
How much is your blog worth?

Link thanks to E spat, whose blog is easily 10 times more entertaining than mine.

Confirmation

In the end, I chose to go with the firm that didn't pitch its shower or running culture. But, I was concerned about maintaining my running and had already started researching ways to pay for access to a shower so that I could run on my lunch (or, let's be honest, my dinner) break.

Yesterday, at lunch with some of my future colleagues from the firm, I asked about the gyms that people belonged to for the purpose of finding the nearest shower to the office. I was ecstatic to learn that the firm I chose has a shower in the basement. If only I had known, I could have broken the dead even tie and saved myself a couple of weeks of career decision anguish as well as gotten more schoolwork done (which I am now realizing is the main thing that's going to bite me in the ass from the first couple months of job stuff). Oh well. All's well that ends well. In hindsight, the career decision wasn't remotely as big of a deal as I had myself worked up to believe. I've made much bigger decisions in the past, most definitely will do so in the future, and no one really knows where or what they will be doing tomorrow, much less in a year.

Here's to not going completely bat-shit fucking loco. [raises glass]

Hearty Italian Vegetable Soup

(aka lazy, pull stuff from the fridge and pantry soup)

Generally, I have a good sense of how good/bad a throw-it-together meal will be before it's complete. But this concoction was shockingly delicious and filling. Even E approved: "This is amazingly good for something that has no meat or cheese."

Sautee a diced half of white onion, 3 chopped cloves of garlic, and 5 chopped dried red spicy peppers (the super-hot decorative ones) in olive oil 'til the onion is clear. Toss in some fresh rosemary, a few sage leaves, and briefly cover with the oil/onion/garlic mixture. Add 6 cups of chicken broth (3 cans), 1/4 bottle of old white wine from the fridge, and one can of stewed tomatoes. Bring to a boil.

Lower to a simmer. Toss in one can butter beans, a chopped bunch of broccoli & half a bag of cavaturi. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes.

Remove from heat and allow to cool. Serve immediately.

One step at a time

Two weeks ago, I was in great shape for the Nike Half Marathon. Unfortunately, I started a pace group too slow and the race was too crowded to catch up to where I wanted to be. So, I called it training run for today's half marathon.

Unfortunately, life called a few times over the past few weeks, and made sure that I was not in the best physical shape for today. I was short on miles and sleep, and long on work, stress, bad food, and various other debaucherous activities that take their toll on the old body. Knowing how poorly prepared I was, part of me considered giving up on the run altogether. I could use the time to do some much needed studying or finishing up the journal responsibilities I promised to do before I can officially resign.

But, I'd committed to doing this race, I wanted to run across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, and I'd already paid for the privilege. So, yesterday, bright and early I made the final decision: I drove to and from San Francisco to pick up my race packet. If I was willing to do that, driving up to run the race was a sure thing.

So, in the spirit of making sacrifices for my goals, last night, I left E and friends at 9 PM after pounding water galore and "carb-loading" on a beer, hamburger, calamari, french fries, some of M's nachos and a salad. The server at the pub loved me and my constant, "could I please have another glass of water when you get a moment?"

Today, at 5:40 AM, I woke, stumbled into my running gear and drove to San Francisco on auto-pilot while drinking a gatorade. I arrived about 15 minutes before the race started, parked the car, put on my chip, bib, and garmin, and jogged to the start. In a bit of foreshadowing, I had the good fortune to be one of the very last people to get to use the porta-johns before the start -- it was already looking like I may just be lucky.

My plan was to shoot for my original goal of clearing the 2 hour mark, which meant that I needed to average about 9m10s miles. I figured I'd be consistently slower than that for the first 5 or 6 miles, I'd do the math, realize how fast I'd need to run to make up the lost time, and set a new, more reasonable goal on the course.

Mile 1 went as suspected: I finished warming up, and completed a 9:32 mile. 22 seconds to make up. Mile 2, however, surprised me at 9:05. "Huh," I thought, "only 17 seconds behind..." I didn't consciously speed up, but the chance of actually meeting my goal must have encouraged me, because I ran 8:51 for mile 3. And, there I was, 2 seconds ahead. All I had to do was maintain 9:10 minute miles for the next 10.1 miles and I'd have done it.

Thanks to the spitting fog, I wasn't that hot. Thanks to the short mileage weeks, my legs were fresh. And thanks to some decent downhills and the excitement at the prospect of running over the bridge for the first time, I didn't even realize that I sped up again to finish mile 4 at 8:35.

From wednesday's workout, I knew that pace was barely sustainable for 4 miles, so I had to slow up if I wanted to finish. My legs were happy for the slower pace, and it turned out, so was I: as I was slowly jogging along, R, a friend I used to work with and hadn't seen in over 1.5 years passed me. We stayed together and caught up for a nice 9:26 mile 5 and 9:41 mile 6.

R wanted to walk, so we parted ways, and refreshed, I ran mile 7 at 8:52. I met another runner, J, at this point, because he also was shooting for sub-2-hours, and he liked the pace I was keeping. We ran together for what my watch claims was a 6:50 mile 8 (I'm suspicious and will verify against the chip results when they are out), and an 8:57 mile 9 (more like what I expected).

Somewhere around mile 10, I really started to focus and J disappeared. The running faster thing really takes a toll on your legs. While they were fresh, they were also unused to long distances, and had never gone this far, this fast. I found that it took quite a bit of concentration to keep the pace I'd set as my goal. My body truly did want to slow down. But, I was so close to actually meeting my goal, that despite my failure to maintain my training, I somehow found the force of will to push my legs. I sustained myself with alternating thoughts 1) encouraging: almost there now, and 2) good-old-fashioned-reality-sucks: the marathon will be so much more difficult than this, so I'd better suck it up and get used to pushing myself if I plan to finish.

It worked. Mile 10, 8:58. Still on track. Somewhere in mile 11, people around me started grunting out loud. Thankfully, I've done that before when I've been pushing myself through intervals, so it didn't scare me. But it did make me realize how gross I must sound.

Occasionally, someone with a ton of juice would blaze past me. Slowly, I was passing some of the grunters, and a few of those who'd been keeping pace. We were all looking straight ahead, focused, and breathing hard. My watch beeped and I realized that I'd finish mile 11 in 8:42. I was surprised. Given how hard I had to work for the 8:58 on Mile 10, I figured I'd just keep getting slower for the rest of the race. But hey, no complaints here.

And then, I only had 2.1 miles left. I looked at my watch and realized I had 22 minutes to finish if I was going to meet my goal. I thought of the Nike race and how I had so much energy left at the end that I finished the last two miles in 15m13s. I knew that was not happening with these 2 miles. This was the hardest I'd ever run 11 miles and my legs were burning. I thought, "this must be what they mean when they say don't race too often because it takes too much of a toll on your body..."

I decided to shoot for finishing in 21 minutes. "10-minute miles," I told myself. "Just two ten-minute miles and you can stop." Like most things, deciding you can do it is more difficult than doing it. So, I actually ran mile 12 at 9:01 and mile 13 at 8:51. I even had enough to sprint the last bit at a 7:19 pace.

They announced my name, I crossed the finish line, and I wanted to cry, partially because my legs hurt, but also because I was so impressed with my mind over matter. Next time, I'll be in better shape, I swore to myself. Happily, I limped away with my medal and the memory of the 1:57 on the timer as I crossed the finish line.

Now, I'm home and need to hit the books. But before I did, I wanted to write about this because I've been so overwhelmed lately that I'd forgotten how amazing it feels to accomplish something that I'd set my mind to do. I need to remember that I should be honest with myself about my limits so that I don't crash before the finish, but when in doubt, I should keep going at the goal pace. It was absolutely worth it.

Admitting Defeat

Years ago, I'd have done it all and ended up in the hospital. (In fact, I did that once...) But I'm older now.

So, today, regretfully, I turned in my resignation from journal. My latest assignment had become a monster (as articles sometimes do) and I had not a spare moment to deal with this unplanned diversion from my time-block tetris.

After forcing my schedule into the shape where I could commit to finishing the journal work while squeezing in preparation for my final trial in trial ad, finishing my school work, the MPRE, running, wedding planning and finals, I had to admit that while I could balance it all, it wasn't pretty. And honestly, I didn't want to be in this same situation in the future. In order to be sure I wasn't going to be in the same situation in December, or worse yet, February (the month before the wedding), something had to give. Instead of sleep, I chose the journal.

Add the relief from knowing where I'll work next fall, choosing a cake designer, knowing the wedding colors, ordering the rings, and registering for gifts, and I'm almost relaxed all of a sudden. Perhaps I'll have a zen-like run tomorrow.

The Painful Irony

I'm not amused that the organization in charge of the MPRE refuses to release the raw scores that it uses to scale the exams.

I've asked google and all the legal people I know to estimate how to translate percentage correct on practice exams into scaled scores. Turns out, no one seems to know.

Instead, I get:

"Don't worry. Everyone passes the MPRE."

Or, better yet:

"80 is passing in California."

Oh, that's comforting. Too bad a scaled score of 80 means approximately the same to me as "two monkeys." Scaled to what, exactly? We don't know anything about it other than that 100 is the mean they shoot for when scaling scores. The only relevant information I have found is that it looks like only 15 percent of the people who took the exam in 2004 actually scored low enough to fail in California. So, pragmatically, I guess I can go to sleep and rely upon the hope that when I'm prepared and lucky, I don't usually find myself in the bottom 15 percent.

But, the bigger question is this: How can the ABA allow an organization to assign numbers that determine whether or not you are "ethical" enough to be a lawyer while not requiring that the organization disclose exactly what those numbers mean? Why do we give the National Conference of Bar Examiners the power to make this judgment without disclosing the methods by which it determines its scaled scores, or at the very least, which raw scores correspond to the scaled scores for past tests.

I can think of several reasons why an organization with a monopoly on testing would want to keep their scoring methodology a secret. But most of those reasons lead to the conclusion that the NCBE is hiding something, and not one of them is justifiable. Any help? Or are you all with me?

Back Home


Most people, they think that if your dog gets sprayed by a skunk, you should bathe her in tomato juice.

They're wrong.

Massengill Douche works much better.


Good to know.

And yes, Penelope, my step-brother's dog, is doing much better.