the nearness of you

I kept fiddling with my wine glass, nervously staring at the crack in it, but not particularly caring. When I had first arrived, I thought the crack in the glass was a charming detail to the moment. I was in a hole-in-the-wall after-hours jazz club, a tiny, cramped, elongated room with incredibly low ceilings and maybe a little too much lighting. I was told that this is where popular jazz artists used to come after performing. The crowd was an interesting assortment of age, style, and skin color. Wine was served in single-serving bottles and cracked glasses. Everything had a sensory implication - the music, the lighting, the glasses, and each person that walked by. I couldn't help but feel immersed, every nerve ending abuzz. The sun would be up in less than 3 hours.

How did I end up here? I glanced up as I sensed someone in front of me. I shook my head, Yes, that seat is taken. I think. I went over the night in my mind. We had gotten out of work early - very early, around 3:30 p.m. And as most lawyers, and all young lawyers, are wont to do, we scooted off to happy hour. Just another Friday night. This was a bigger group, with the same core cast of characters. We started at one bar; pitchers coming two at a time, never empty, plastic cups littered around the table, tables cast aside and chairs gathered into groups. We moved to the next bar, sitting outside and crammed onto three benches around one table. Beers so large that I could not drink from it without using two hands.

At both bars, I ended up sitting next to a colleague to whom I had not previously spoken, but had introduced myself some time ago. He's one of those coworkers that you know everyone in the group noticed when he walked into the room on the first day. (And, if you're me, the second day, and third, and fourth, etc...) There are always a few people that you know everyone admires, right? The attractive, intelligent, well-spoken, self-assured ones that dress really nicely and are fun to talk to. There are always a few in every group. This was one in particular with whom I was smitten. I hung onto his every word. His voice was smooth, assured, and entrancing.

At the first bar, we chatted easily, talking about ourselves, and our backgrounds, bad movies, baseball, etc. I was delighted to speak to him; he was every bit as fun to hang out with as I had hoped. I was happy to know that I'd be spending an indefinite number of years working alongside him. He lived in a neighborhood that I haven't had the chance to explore yet, and he offered to show me around. At the second bar, I didn't speak to him as much. He told me I wasn't going to be able to finish my beer. Stated as easily and confidently as fact, like an observation about the weather. He told me I wouldn't go to his neighborhood. Another challenge. He reminded me about visiting his neighborhood. Next weekend, we'll... is what he said. A few times, dropped in conversation. Next weekend, we'll...

And, as most bad ideas go, we decided to leave the bar and head to a colleague's apartment for more drinking. By this time, our numbers had dropped dramatically and it was just the few of us left. We sat on the rooftop, looking out over parts of the city, the skyline dotted with lights and some gritty dirty buildings. It was not until the others had gone in shivering, and we remained outside drinking, talking, and it was not until he asked me about myself, we discussed our families, how we got where we are, what we think about what's next... that I started wonder. I'm enamored with him, but never thought twice about it. Who wouldn't be? But if he might be interested in me, that's a whole different ballgame. I quickly pushed the thought out of my head. Are you crazy? He's polite, and interesting, and friendly. That's it. Stop imagining things that aren't true.

My thoughts were interrupted by yet another person trying to sit in the stool across from me. The older man who had first asked to sit there indicated to the other man that yes, the seat was taken. The older man set his drink in front of it, and stood behind it, so as to prevent others from sitting. I smiled at him and thanked him. You can go ahead and sit there. I'm not sure when he's coming back, and he's been gone long enough. Well where did he go? He went to talk to another girl. And that sick feeling in my stomach came back, that feeling of maybe I made this all up, but even worse, I sensed that I hadn't made it up, but that in the end, he decided that he wasn't really interested in me any longer.

Could I have made this up? When we finally came inside off the roof to join the others, I was still certain about nothing. He had hinted a few times about possibly going to his neighborhood tonight for another drink. Of course, issued as a challenge. You won't go. I, foolishly, always respond as predicted to such things. Of course I'll go! I'm totally up for it. But I'm still wearing my suit, and carrying my work bag, and I feel like an asshole going to such a hip neighborhood looking like this. Don't worry, no one will even notice, he assured me.

He mentioned it to some others as well, and they like me gave lip service to the idea of moving along, but as time progressed, it became clear that we weren't really going to relocate again. By this time we had been drinking for at least 7 hours. At one point, he and I made eye contact across the room. I can't remember exactly what he mouthed to me, but it was something along the lines of, 'If you're up for it, then I'm up for it.' Or, If you're in, then I'm in. Even though I wasn't certain what exactly he was talking about, I nodded. Whatever it was he was talking about, I was totally in.

Another coworker sitting next to me, the near-miss from last Friday, murmured to me. I turned to him, and saw him looking over at the other guy. Clearly Near-Miss had seen it as well. NM said, You're totally going home with him aren't you. You are so going to hook up. NM kept looking over at the other guy. I tried to keep my cool and looked directly at NM the entire time. Don't let him know I'm talking about him. No, I'm not going home with him. What are you talking about? Damn, I wish. NM said, he wants to. I can tell. After making what I thought were the appropriate denials of any knowledge of what was going on, NM stopped pushing it. Inside, I was screaming, Yes! I think so too! I'm not making this up! There is something happening here! I am not crazy! Even another guy was able to pick up on this! And all guys are legally mentally retarded when it comes to things like this! (As an aside, it doesn't mean you aren't eligible for execution when you fuck something up, like a date or a relationship.)

I decided to leave, and I was banking on the fact that he will leave with me.

to be continued...

damn the government

You know that anti-pot commercial where the grandma is waiting at the kitchen table with dinner ready, and she looks so lonely and worried, and then she reaches over and fixes the place setting, and the voice-over says, "Just tell your grandma that you couldn't make it to dinner because you got high."

 

I don't smoke pot but it still makes me feel guilty EVERY SINGLE TIME.

 

Yeah, I just ran and emailed my grandma.

in a bizarre turn of events

Last night I saw the booty call, the guy that I met in May that I never really wanted to meet up with again, but feeling lonely and in need of companionship, gave my phone number to last week.

He came over last night, and I figured by the end of the night, I'd be reminded of why I steered clear of him for the past few months.

Au contraire.

It was actually a very pleasant evening. We took a walk along the water, under the starlight and the twinkling lights of the city; we caught up on what we've been doing the past few months; we chatted about our respective jobs; we made out. It was really nice to see him, and I told him that I wanted to see him again, and not just for making out.

Suddenly - the guy who was relentlessly after me, trying to see me (all last weekend) despite the fact that I made it clear to him that I wasn't interested in dating, and the only reason I contacted him was to hook up... suddenly, I'm interested in dating, I would really like to see him and hang out again, and suddenly, he isn't contacting me.

Go fucking figure.

suicide

Today during our training and simulations, one of the issues raised was how to deal with suicidal clients.

About halfway through the presentation, a memory came like a sucker punch out of nowhere... in my former life as a social worker, someone killed himself because of me.

To be fair, it's not actually true that I caused someone to commit suicide. But I was part of the event that led to the suicide. I was investigating a potential sexual abuse case, and it was my first such case. I conducted a painstaking interview, in which the youth kept changing the subject, avoiding any discussions that even approached what I wanted to ask about (this was a particularly smart client, too) until finally, it all started pouring out.

The abuser was a relative but not a member of the household, which is not uncommon. After consulting with the members of the youth's household, and after it was clear that the youth and the family was safe, my involvement ended. However, the police then began considering criminal charges. This particular jurisdiction almost never prosecuted child cases, which frustrated me as a social worker. I don't recall how I found out, but soon after this situation came to light, the alleged perpetrator killed himself.

I was reeling from the shock of the news, I remember - a 22 year old fresh out of college mucking around in the deepest and most secretive aspects of people's lives - and based on what? My job title? Who the hell was I? I felt overwhelmed. I cried. I was angry. I needed someone to help me figure out what my role was in this, and howI was supposed to feel about it. Neither my supervisor nor the detective I had been working with was any help to me. I don't think they really understood how or why this affected me.

Today, the same nausea I felt that day came rushing back.

Incest, murder

This article details the story of an 18 year old woman being tried for murder, allegedly for throwing two newborn infants out a window shortly after their birth. She lived with her father who reportedly abused her several times a week for years, and is the father of the two newborns.

It seems inappropriate to me that she's facing more serious charges than he is. If he was raping her several times a week, possibly even picking her up from school during her lunch hour to do so, and then he fathered two children by his own daughter, I think he's more culpable than she is.

In Vermont, citizens are taking immigration enforcement into their own hands. If they can find the border.

The Washington Post has an interesting article about au pairs and their experience arriving here.

Being a Lawyer: The First Week

The most important part of this week for me to share is that I'm deliriously happy. I love my class. I love my job. I love my new city. I'm not so excited about my office assignment - the commute may be prohibitive. But the office is great, the attorneys are great, I got to meet some judges and see the bowels of the courthouse and criminal justice system, I have some great people (we're a small group) assigned to my office as well.

There are already some political snafus, but overall, I'm so excited. And I am so proud of us. It's such a great group of fun, smart, dedicated new attorneys, fresh faces and boundless energy, chomping at the bit to get going. I'm so proud to be part of a great group of new attorneys in my own office - they're incredibly friendly, super nice, and even though we're all pissed about the commute, I think ultimately we're all going to love it.

The world of indigent defense is a small world, indeed. I ran into people I knew last summer, or people who know people that I know, people I may have even worke don cases with before. Most of us have friends or acquiantances in common, and it's unbelievable how small the public defender community feels.

I'm already hitting a few touchy areas about my own background. For instance, the name of my law school has others drawing inferences with which I'm not comfortable. I don't know for sure, but I think it makes some people feel uncomfortable. One of my new buddies and I got in an argument about who knows how to party. We went to law school not too far, and he said, "Don't you tell me that your law school knows how to party! I don't go up into your library and say, "Ooooh, I study soooo much!" And I was really left at a loss. People are drawing conclusions about my abilities and my personal experiences based solely on the name of my law school, and it is a sore subject for me. One of my best friends from law school comes from a similar background as I, and we've had intense conversations about how it feels, how we think other people regard us, how it changes how we regard other people. It's very upsetting to me, and I guess I can't really explain why or how. The guy with whom I had this conversation went to law school near me, and he loved that I described my law school geographically, instead of by name. I do that because so many people come from this area and went to law school in this area that I try to explain that I'm sorta new to it. However, the other girl with us said, "Why bother? You assume that I care where you went to law school. You assume it makes a difference to me. It doesn't." And I was so glad she said that. I can't stand it when people are shallow, and particularly in this job, I want people to see what drives me to do this work, and what my individual strengths and undeveloped skills are right now. One of my friends from law school, not a public defender, said to me, "You went to a great law school. Deal with it." I suppose that's true too. I went to the law school because of its prestige; its name opened doors for me that would have otherwise been unavailable; I can't now pretend like it means nothing.

About 6 times today, I grinned like a fool and squealed, "I can't believe I live here! I can't believe I'm really a public defender! I can't believe how happy I am!!" Life is good. And as my dad said, if the only thing going wrong for me is my long commute, then life is pretty good. That's the truth.

Once I get into more substantive training and start taking cases, I'm going to be a wreck - I've never actually represented someone in court before! But for now, with just HR forms and beer and getting familiar with my new digs, I'm lovin' life.

I love the working world

Today, I:

- developed a crush on a coworker

- filled out hours upon hours of HR forms

- got paid for those hours

- sat with people that made filling out my address and name, 17 times, over and over again, very very fun...

- went out for beers with a few coworkers

- had a few more beers with coworkers

- got fucking drunk off my ass with coworkers

- share intimate secrets with coworkers

- almost went home with the crush coworker

- didn't go home with him because it was all too clinical ('ok, so if you hook up with X, and I hook up with Y, we'll all be cool. Yeah?)

- but, despite the fact that I decided at the last minute to kiss him on the cheek, say, "I appreciate it. But maybe some other time?" and catch a train in a different direction, I still really want to make out with him.

almost forgot to tell you

That I stumbled across this guy yesterday. I almost had a heart attack. Him? Me? Here? We've re-exchanged contact info. BAD dating karma, let me tell you. I need to get off to a better start in this city than THAT.

But sometimes a girl just needs the booty call option.

whew

I do belong here.

The highlights of the day:
1. Having the trainer give a speech regarding feeling like an imposter, feeling like any time now, someone is going to find you out - that you're not really all that smart, or that you don't think well on your feet, or that you don't know all the legal arguments. I was relieved. That's EXACTLY how I feel! The answer: just pretend. And that's really what I've done so far. I've pretended like I'm a great speaker, and have great presence, and know everything inside and out. It's effective.

2. Meeting some great new people with whom I look forward to working.

3. Running into people I already knew!

4. Finding out that my office is really, really, far away from where I'll be living starting next month.

5. A bird pooped on my brand new fabulous work bag. (I read in a Judy Blume book that in Yiddish folklore, this is good luck. So that's how I tried to regard it.)

Gosh, I'm tired.

unsettled

I've had several journal-worthy moments of introspection, but those moments never occur when I'm anywhere near my journal, and after a gross weekend of miserable weather and trekking all over this city looking for housing, I'm in no mood to reflect or chronicle anything. Because if I were to die tomorrow, and someone found my journal, it would be clear that I was nothing more than a cranky bitch.

So, when I'm this disgruntled, I turn to the internet. The good news is that I accepted an offer to move into an apartment. I was so grumpy all day today because everything was so up in the air, and I dropped a solid $40 on transportation fees alone over the past week, and I feel like such a miserable burden to the dear friend who is allowing me to crash on her floor indefinitely. I like the place and the person living in the place that I accepted. She has a dog that I 100% fell in love with when I visited, and it was requited love (what can I say, the bitches love me). I left a message for potential future roommate, saying Yes! I will move in! but she hasn't called me back with the details, and if you know anything at all about me, internet, it's that I get frantic until I'm sure that all is resolved. See, e.g., the entire job search over the past year.

I start work on Tuesday, and I CANNOT WAIT. I am also terrified, because I secretly believe that my class will be composed of people who are both beautiful and brilliant [To which TR said, "Then you'll fit right in!" which was a very smooth and appropriately reassuring line] but I feel ugly and dull and stupid.

I'm starting to get accustomed to life in a city, which frequently involves being leered at by men on the street. Sadly, this is a boost to my ego, last night in particular. One thugged out young black man commented on my beauty and attractiveness in such an exhilarated and exasperated manner, as though his soul would never recover from me just walking on by and ignoring his remarks, that I was smirking and glowing the entire way to my destination, and then recounted the entire affair in an, "I wish all men were like this" type way.

Last night, I drank red wine and played card games and Balderdash, and I can't remember the last time I laughed so deeply.

remove Bush from office immediately

I listen to NPR in the morning, and currently Bush is blathering about world-wide fear and freedom. I'm blogging contemporaneously with the crap spewing out of his mouth. This again? Why does it always come back to this? Where is this COMING from? What?!? Beirut? Mogadishu? Why is he always spinning tales of terror and the need to fight out of nowhere? "Mortal danger to all humanity"? "We will not rest until the war on terror is done"? You have NO credibility with me. You cried wolf too many times - war in Afghanistan! Iraq! Because they attacked us! ok, no, but they have bin Laden! No wait, they have weapons! No? Um, they are bad to their people! We need to be liberators!

His leadership makes me so angry that anything he says right now is enough to drive me to join a demonstration. I regard federal government with disdain because I have no say and no power in it. Those people don't represent me or my beliefs. It's us, the people, against them, our government. Bush describes the threat as people who believe "Someone else is to blame and violence is always the solution." Well that line could very well describe his own administration. What the hell is he getting at?

There is apparently no point to this speech. Just an attempt at a pep talk, apparently. He just keeps listing things that are wrong with the governments and terrorists of the world, but he hasn't said anything at all that connects them.

I can't believe I just wasted my time listening to this. I'm going to cut my losses and put on the iPod for now (Drive-By Truckers are very good). Let me know if he, like, declares war on someone else or something?

it's complicated

Today, I went to lunch with a guy I started hanging out with at the end of law school. We started chatting, we hit it off, then there was finals and graduation and moving away. But for those three weeks or so when we were getting to know each other, and flirting, I was interested in him.

Then his "situation" showed up for graduation.

That's what he called her, until I sweetly cornered him into admitting that she just might be his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, but who travels hundreds of miles to see an ex graduate from law school?

We've exchanged a few emails and phone calls since then, all interactions being very pleasant and a little flirty, at least on my part. Today we had lunch, and I'm feeling pretty neutral about the whole thing. I'm not sure what's changed.

First off, I think he may not have left a tip. We both paid, but he didn't want to leave the money on the table, so we paid the cashier, but I have no idea where the money for the tip went. It didn't go back to the table. He seems like a super nice guy, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he somehow left the tip at the register.

Second, when I asked him about the 'situation,' he said, "I don't know what you think my status is with her." I wasn't sure how to say, I have no fucking clue, because you were never really clear on that, nor did you seem to be clear on that yourself, so I merely said, "Well, I didn't mean to box you into anything." I could feel myself turning red, particularly since bringing up his 'situation' was a bit of a non-sequiter. He said, "Well, we're not... it's... no. She's not moving here. But we still talk." Which still doesn't quite answer the question, still leaves too much to infer, but I suppose that's as good as it gets.

But you know what? That's not good enough anymore. Friendster, in addition to shaking the very foundation of my social fabric by retroactively revealing what a stalker I am to thousands of strangers, has added a new relationship distinction: "It's complicated." No, it's not. I want to have crazy, dirty, passionate, do-it-again-in-the-morning interactions with a member of the opposite sex. It's been ages since I've even been attracted to someone. (Unless you count the shirtless tattoed contractor who was working downstairs this morning). I want a guy who will put his hand on the small of my back as I pass. I want a guy who is sincere, and assertive, and who makes me feel like I'm the sexiest, most interesting woman in the room. I want a guy who makes a mental note when I mention my birthday, and then does something about it.

WOO ME, MOTHERFUCKER. I WANT TO BE WOOED.

I do not want situations, or complications. I do not want to invest my time, my energy, my flirting on someone who doesn't know whether he's available or not.

I had the most articulate and profound insight here, but then blogger lost my post. It went something like, every time I start to overcome my own doubts about my dateworthiness, I get mired in procedural mishaps like situations and complications. I'm working on taking risks - slow, small risks - and I'm derailed not by rejection, or disinterest, but a "situation"? In all the time we've chatted, she just never came up in conversation?

And what does lunch on a Wednesday mean, anyway? It's less commital than say, dinner or drinks after work? Lunch on a Wednesday is 'Hey, how are ya, nice to see you, all your limbs are intact, which is good, see you in 4 or 5 months.'

Really, it's simple. Let's converse, let's connect, let's get something smoldering, and when I can't stop smiling, and laughing, and gazing into your eyes, lean forward and kiss me. And if you aren't sure whether you are allowed to do that, then don't waste my time.

[edit] and as if he READ my thoughts, or my blog, Mr. STF wooed me. I should have gotten him drunk in Vegas and tricked him into marrying me before I moved away.

this game sucks and now I'm drunk for no reason

thoughts for today

Abomination of justice? playa, please. I know other bloggers have said this, but really, Tom DeLay, you have no idea. You were handed a nice clean indictment without being thrown to the ground, cuffed, searched, your house searched, and being thrown in jail until you make bail. Poor baby. Stop throwing words around like "abomination of justice" and welcome to the legal system, asshat. Buckle up. And I would recommend, while you have some authority to do so, that you derail that habeas bill that is going to prevent any federal court from hearing any of your dozens of appeals that I'm sure you are going to want.

This phone ran away and made unauthorized phone calls to places like Germany. It's ugly and not the easiest phone to use, but I loved it anyway, with all its faults. It was mine, it was new, (it was free) and it was (maybe) better than the old Nokia I had been using for 2 or 3 years. Now that the ugly gray hook phone left me (really. why a hook for an antenna? and a hook not even big enough to use for anything?) I have found love in a new phone which is so much sexier, and won't leave me to call Germany. Or Asia either, I bet.

I am wearing my Red Sox shirt again today. I've only worn the shirt three times, and every time, Wakefield and the Sox lost. I'm wearing it again today, hoping to break the curse. It's the first time I've worn it while someone else has been pitching. But if the Sox lose today, I take full responsibility for it, and I'll just hang the shirt on my wall instead of wearing it ever again.

to the person who found my cell phone

I am going to hunt you down and slowly and painfully remove a fingernail, or toe, or any other digit for every single minute that you called Europe. Additionally, I have the local number that you called, and do not think that I will not track down that number and then show up at the door with a shotgun. I will not rest until I find you.

city living

Every night, a man sits down in front of his piano and practices next to his large bay windows, opened about a third of the way, and the music in the night pleasantly wafts across what would ideally be a courtyard but is rather the ass end of a lot of buildings crammed together. Sometimes I peek out and watch him play, and I wonder if he ever gazes up at these windows to admire me while I repeatedly surf useless internet sites.

When it comes time to close the windows, I'm going to miss having such a beautiful soundtrack to my evenings.

blogging lite

I've had plenty of bloggable moments lately, but in an attempt to preserve my anonymity, alas, I've censored myself. I'm also in the midst of doing a lot but nothing at all. I'm looking for housing and trying to settle in. I'm watching the Sox kick ass and take names. (that might be a bit of an overstatement. but they're plugging along). I did some court-watching. I'm seeing people I haven't seen in a long time. I lost my cell phone and have been almost incapable of functioning without it.

Barnes and Noble has a neat book called "The Federalist" for $9.95 that I keep picking up and then putting back down. I really want to read the Federalist papers and some commentary, and this seems like a pretty comprehensive collection, but I can't just go throwing money around, having no income and all.

I start work soon, and I go back and forth between feeling like this is all a mistake, that I'm really really incompetent, and that I was only hired because I came from a decent law school which means I'm going to be a horrible attorney; and feeling like, wow, I can totally do that better than he did, and even if I can't do it better, I'm certainly capable of that level of mediocrity (this was while court-watching).

Time to go buy another cell phone.

Bush nominates Miers

not too surprising

although I did think that I was a little more economically conservative than that. But maybe not.

You are a Social Liberal (73% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (18% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on OkCupid Free Online Dating Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

Maryland v. Blake

I have posted about this case several times before (but I can't find the posts, because the google 'search this blog' feature is turning up nothing. Liars.) This case caught my attention when it was appealed to the MD Supreme Court, and it retains my attention for a different, even more compelling, reason.

The question in the case is whether, after a suspect invokes his Fifth Amendment right to counsel, in custody and under interrogation, police officers can continue to question him (including threatening the death penalty, for which he was not eligible at the time because he was a juvenile) and use the resulting confession as evidence?

The petitioner's (Maryland's) brief, in its facts, mentions the line, "I bet you want to talk now, huh?" but, in what I believe is not such a smooth move, leaves out the this was uttered by the detective because a document listing the charges and DEATH PENALTY were placed in front of Blake. As far as I can tell, Blake asks a few minutes later whether he can still speak to the cops.

The bright line rule set forth in Edwards is that once the suspect has invoked his 5th Amendment right to counsel, all interrogation must cease until the suspect has consulted with counsel OR the suspect seeks out and initiates contact with police. Interrogation includes any behavior designed to incite the suspect to act.

Blake looks like an open and shut 5th Amendment case. Blake wins. Maryland loses. The reason that this is my flagship case of the 2005-2006 Supreme Court term is because I want to know:

Why the hell did the Supreme Court take this case?

Is anyone else alarmed about what this means for Miranda? Particularly in light of the new changes on the Supreme Court? Roberts wasn't on the Court that decided Dickerson. And as many critics have pointed out, just because he 'has no quarrel' with a decision, or believes that a decision is 'entitled to deference' as settled law, doesn't mean that he won't start tearing shit up when he gets there.

The respondent's brief has not yet been filed, but the petitioner's brief and petitioner's reply brief are posted. The case is scheduled to be argued on November 1.

she found god. and meth.

This is too much. 

 

Remember that?  The guy who shot up the Atlanta courthouse - and took a woman hostage who spoke to him about God, and became his friend, and convinced him to turn himself in or something?  SHE GAVE HIM METH.  God, my ass. 

 

I too have found meth.  I mean God.  Well, not really.  But since I left my momma's, I have:

1. been told I have a 'juicy ass'

2. been asked out to dinner by the grocery clerk

3. had a guy buy the entire bar a round of drinks because he thought I was cute, but thought it would be weird to buy just me a drink

4. accidentally almost crashed a private lesbian party (they told us we could stay, but we politely declined.)

5.  given my phone number to a guy who insulted me and argued with me all night - I told him he was the only guy I've wanted to punch while giving him my phone number.  which is true.  he hasn't called; I'm not sad.

6.  been out until 5 a.m.

7. gained weight

8. been sleeping on an air mattress

 

And loving every minute of it.

Catholic Church? Liberals?

I've been batting around the idea of returning to religion and
specifically, the Catholic Church. I read a 200-page history of the
development of the Catholic Church as an establishment that led me to
reconsider.

Now, Pope Benedict intends to send investigators to find and throw out any
priests who identify as homosexual, and the Catholic Church is now pretty
much crossed off my list. It seems odd to me that the Pope wants to fire
celibate homosexuals, but the Church is more than willing to protect
pedophiles. Being homosexual does not make one more likely to abuse
children. Being a homosexual who does not commit homosexual acts is
actually not a sin, according to the Church. Nevertheless, the Church is
seeking to become more conservative than ever.

The whole country, apparently, has swung far to the right. NPR had a
feature yesterday on the popularity of fundamentalist churches and the
disappearance of progressive religion in this country. Secondly, I read
part of an article by Cass Sunstein in Harper's Magazine this month, and I
learned that Stevens is actually a Republican moderate. I never knew
that, nor would I have guessed that. Sunstein points out that it's not
Stevens' decisions that have changed, but rather, the Court has changed so
far to the right that a Republican moderate like Stevens is on the left.

adrift

I'm lonely.

I definitely needed an extended period of time after the bar exam to relax. I needed time to come down off the bar exam, pack and move, get job things straightened out, and work on my tan.

All of those things were accomplished by, oh, August 28.

Now I'm just going crazy. I've developed a diligent television-watching routine. The amount of TV I watch in a day is truly shocking. I've been catching up on movies and shows that I missed, on DVD. I can't even bring myself to read anymore, because I do it every single day.

I miss law school. There, I said it. I miss walking the halls and being swept up in 45 minute social detours. I miss sitting down for a quick meal and inadvertently becoming engrossed in a conversation that manages to both inflame my passions and leaving me questioning my own principles. I miss being in my house, and my bed, surrounded by my friends. I miss my grocery store, my gym, my walk to school, my bars, the old man who seemed to hate his dog but walked him every single morning at the same time past my house. I miss throwing a ball around in the grass outside the law school. I miss knowing that everyone I needed to see was either in the building or a short walk away. I miss sending one-line emails; emails never needed to be more than one line because we saw each other all the time.

It's funny, really, that the less you see someone, the less you have to say.

Soon, I'm going to crash at a friend's house instead of Mom's. The time has come for me to get out of here and start getting focused on the next phase. The work-related things that are up in the air mean that other things are too, things like housing and income and whether I'll be able to pay my bills next month. Because all of those things are up in the air, I haven't even started thinking about the other Big Things that come along with this next phase. I think most people in my life assume that I'm naturally social and outgoing. That's not necessarily the case. I have to gear up for investing time and energy into developing really rewarding relationships with my coworkers. I have to invest the time and mental energy into getting accustomed to a new community. I have to get ready for having a life that doesn't include coffee breaks whenever I feel like it, or skipping an afternoon because the weather's nice.

It's going to be scary and exciting, and it's time to get started, even though it means that I have to quit TV cold turkey.

mmmm cheeeesy

One of my friends told me I was wonderful, despite my 'cheesy taste in men and music.' I didn't quite understand what warranted such a characterization, but today I realized:

1. Dude, I totally dig tattoos, especially the armband ones. HOT. Guy at the gym lifting weights next to me this morning with the armband tattoo made me nearly knock myself out mid-crunch. And I'm the only person I know that loves nipple piercings on men. Not all men can do it, mind you, but the ones that do - what's not to drool over?

2. When I was cruising around town in Lilith the Ford Contour today (can you believe that bitch is still kickin'? me neither) "More Than A Feeling" came on the radio, and I cranked that shit up and SANG, as I was sincerely pumped up when I heard it. It's one of my favorite car songs of all time, along with, "Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet." PUMPED. UP.

As an aside, I have one of the "Would You Rather" books, and it's hysterical, and one of the questions is, Would You Rather live in a world where... a) the convention of singing 'Happy Birthday" was replaced with "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" by Bachman Turner Overdrive OR b) where congressional debate was settled by dodgeball contests?

I sense that the Roberts hearings wouldn't be any more interesting if it were settled via dodgeball. If you have not seen the show Arrested Development, you MUST see it, because it really is funny. I only watch it on DVD, and it's better than crack. Anyway, in one of the episodes, Buster recounts how he was taught to drop to the ground and curl up in a ball if someone threatened him. At the end of the episode, he does, and the actor totally perfects the move - he manages to drop to the ground and curl almost instantaneously. Now that's art, right there. To bring this large tangent to an end, I think Roberts might be the type of guy who would pull a move like that in a dodgeball tournament. Yes? I mean, he can't even answer questions. How could he take a hit with a dodgeball? I choose the answer A.

And here, take one for the road: Would you rather live in a world where there was a rapper-like East Coast / West Coast feud of mimes, OR where the pledge of allegiance was changed to the lyrics to "Eye of the Tiger"?

Sweet.

don't hand me no lines, and keep your hands to yourself

I had an incredibly productive day of socializing today. I met a friend for coffee this morning and we had a very animated conversation, catching up on what's been going on, talking about what's next. It was so refreshing to have such meaningful human contact! Another friend called after that, so I met her later, and we did lunch and some quality shopping. We were catching up during lunch, and of course the question, "So any men in your life?" comes up, and I'm left with the option of either saying, "Let me show you the laundry list of nobodies" or saying, "Nope. No men in my life." I did a little of both today, and later in the conversation, my friend stopped me and said, "You need to stop being friends with guys who take you out to dinner and the movies, and stop making out with guys you don't like, and just go out and DATE GUYS without being friends with them first. You know, meet a guy, let him buy you a drink, and meet up with him again. Go out to dinner. Meet up again. Hang out again."

By golly, she's right.

I have this emotional quirk that prevents me from dating a guy that I'm not already sure that I really like, but by that time we're pretty good friends, so why ruin a good thing? This helps me 1. never get rejected and 2. always have wonderful men around me. I know that I do this, but for some reason, it wasn't until today that I really and truly realized that it might be a problem. Mr. STF busted right on through that by being absolutely relentless in the beginning of our torrid affair last summer. I kept trying to avoid it, but he didn't leave me much choice, and so we dated, I was smitten, and then I moved.

My friend is right. I have far too many guy friends who take me out to dinner, or to movies, or who ply me with fine wines. (Oooh, what a problem, huh? Yeah, I know.) I need to just date. I can't keep waiting for men who are going to be that aggressive (although I lurrrrrv that quality in a man) to convince me to date them. I need to just do it. I'm capable of it. I don't need any more 'friends.' I don't need to keep men away from me because I'm convinced they won't like me. Let those assholes figure it out for themselves, damnit.

After lunch and shopping, we picked her two kids up from daycare in the minivan (woohoo!) and I spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening playing with her son. We had a great time, he and I. Dad came home, and I fielded the same, "Got a boyfriend?" "Why are you still single?" questions. I continued to play with the little one (he's 3) after dinner, but things came to a screeching halt when, as he was sitting in my lap, he started poking and grasping my ample bosom.

"What's that?" he asked.
Mom and Dad were both amused and mortified. I, not wanting to somehow drastically alter this child's future development regarding body image and/or sexuality, kept silent, waiting for a wise parent to interject. They giggled.

Mom explained that they were boobies, and that he had them, too, and she pointed to where they were on his body, as he had no shirt on. He looked closely and said, "Yes, I have them too!" He then peered at my face, spotting the freckle on my cheek, and said, "This one too!"

To be sure, his own little nipples looked like freckles. But I fear the man will go the rest of his life being strangely attracted to freckled women. Despite admonishment, and the fact that I had grabbed his little hands to prevent him from futher inspection of my mammaries, he started discreetly nudging them with his knee. Which just cracked me the fuck up. He's a sneaky one, that kid.

And hey, he promised to call soon. And he insisted on waving goodbye out the window as I left. Which makes him much more of a gentleman then most of the men who've recently prodded my breasts.

Roberts confirmation hearings

I've seen parts of the confirmation hearings today. I saw part of Senator Biden's questioning, part of Senator DeWine's questioning, all of Sen. Feinstein's questioning, and some of Sen. Sessions' questioning.

Watching Feinstein was interesting. I thought she asked good questions, but I was disappointed with how quickly she moved on. Roberts really stuck to his "I like females; I married one and my wife gave birth to one" approach to inquiries as to some of his prior writings about women and gender discrimination. She also inquired as to his views of federalism and striking down acts of Congress. Those two are the issues of most interest to me in regards to Roberts as a candidate. I was disappointed that Feinstein asked the question, let Roberts answer, then moved on to the next question. I think there were quite a few times when Roberts gave really weak responses that warranted some hard-hitting follow-ups that Feinstein did not pursue. His remarks on the fact that maybe making more lawyers out of homemakers was not a good thing amounted to the fact that it was all one big 'lawyer' joke, and it lightened the day at the office, and that was really just the spirit of the office to make jokes about too many lawyers. Lawyer joke? That's the first one that I've heard (and believe you me, I've heard a lot) that includes the term "homemaker" but I'll have to keep it on hand for a good chuckle next time we're having a bad day at the office.

I think there are several possibilities as to why Feinstein let him off easy here. It's possible that Roberts' remarks are actually being taken out of context and made to look nastier than they are. It's also possible that Feinstein was less interested in harassing Roberts (like Biden did) and was more interested in pinning him down to an answer for now. Biden was pretty aggressive, and since confrontation makes me nervous [I'm a bad lawyer] I had to look away a few times. The part of Biden's questioning that I saw had some merit, and on the points that had merit I think it was good to be aggressive. But I think that there were times when Roberts validly exercised his right not to answer questions regarding his political views on hot-button issues, and Biden ridiculed him, referring to the "Ginsburg rule" that Roberts invoked - that is, Ginsburg testified to more things than Roberts did because she wrote about them and thus had to answer to them. So Biden kept chasing Roberts around on that one.

Hoenstly, I'm glad to see Roberts refusing to answer questions on that basis. I think that the judiciary has become far too entangled with Congress's agenda (see, e.g., Terri Schiavo, the new habeas corpus bill) and I like to see justices sticking to their guns on their autonomy and responsibility to the courts and litigants outside of political affiliations. There's no doubt that the personal views of justices come through in their cases, but I think that the appearance of an independent judicial power is critical. I don't think it is much of a secret, any more than with any other justices, as to how Roberts will fall on the Supreme Court, and I think it's sufficient to pin Roberts down on stare decisis. I will be eating my words when he manages to overturn Roe and Casey and single-handedly repeals the 19th Amendment. Aside from that, I'm glad that there is some line-drawing as to the accountability of justices. I honestly think it's necessary in the mainstream media right now.

Sen. Sessions canonized Roberts in his 'questions' that were all rhetorical. I need to get back to CSPAN now so I can see more of this excitement. Whoot!

[Addendum: CSPAN just cut off Schumer and referred me to CSPAN 3 for additional coverage, which sucks because who really has CSPAN 3? At least, I don't think I have it. Anyway, Feingold was AMAZING with questions regarding Hamdi, Hamden, and whether Korematsu is good law, etc... I'm definitely in love with Feingold. IN. Love. Schumer was really good too. Roberts did too much dodging with them.]

[Also, to add to the 'lawyer joke' pile that Roberts is amassing, Roberts's response to his use of the phrase, "illegal amigos"? Chalk it up to the desire to appeal to diverse masses. Politicians use Spanish words when speaking to Latino crowds, he explained. That phrase was merely just a reference to common political usage, Roberts insisted. You know how it is. Just referrin' to those silly politicians using those furrin words. More office hijinx. Schumer kept trying to ask him whether he believed that was the most appropriate phrase to use? Roberts said it was. Schumer replied curtly, "I must disagree with you on that," and moved along.]

politics sucks

Suburban Ecstasies has great links regarding the political failure of Katrina - more than just cursory. It's horrifying to see how much Bush has squashed anything and everything that he doesn't want to hear. No matter how much I disagree with the politics of a leader, a leader is absolutely not someone who puts his fingers in his ears and yells "Lalalalala" or snaps at you when you tell him news he doesn't want to hear. That's not a leader, that's a preschooler. This makes me ill.

Roberts says Supreme Court justices play limited role: 'They are servants of the law, not the other way around.'

got all my thangs, in my momma's name, but I'm hood-rich

A few nights ago, I dragged my ass off the couch and dug out some appropriate clothing to attend a political fundraiser for young 'uns. When I received the phone call, I was in my office (the living room couch) watching the riveting tale of the Patriots 2001 Super Bowl win on ESPN Classic. There seemed to be an annoying misplaced siren sound in the background; turned out there was a fire next door. I live in a very heavily populated area, where the buildings are just feet apart, and for a moment I panicked that my building was on fire and no one bothered to tell me. No one else outside seemed to be panicking so I went back to watching TV. And all the firefighters looked like the married types anyway. Bah.

I was concerned that I would not be home in time for the O.C., but my escort for the evening assured me he'd have me home in time. I grew up in a very politically active community and missed being part of the action, so part of me was intrigued about what political activism looks like as a young professional. I had to peel myself away from the 2001 Super Bowl game (luckily I've seen it already) and ditch the denim skirt, Tshirt, and flipflops for something more appropriate. Then I realized that I gave my mom the last remnants I had of my cash (which I never carry) for my Luna bars and mini-Cokes (snack foods are essential).

I stood perched outside on the sidewalk in a skirt and open-toed heels waiting for my date and hoping I didn't look out of place in the GHETTO that my mom's neighborhood has become. There were families milling about and a group of about 8 firefighters hanging out taking reports from the fire next door. It was one of those awkward social situations in which I'm in close proximity to a lot of people I don't really know because the neighborhood has had such high turnover, but who are standing close to me and live next door to me. So I was doing that avoiding eye contact thing, trying to stand comfortably without sinking my heels into the sidewalk or the grass while emergency response teams crawled all over the place.

Finally my date arrived and we went off to the event. It was an informal, comfortable event. There was beer. Enough said.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I had some sort of social status thrust upon me by virtue of my education. I grew up in a working class family and have never really felt comfortable in such potentially pretentious social situations. I've always felt like I was smart enough and hard-working enough, but felt like I was lacking that social veneer that others possess that makes me uncomfortable. Last night, when I looked around, I think I realized that somewhere along the way I had surpassed something. I'm not sure what, exactly. I didn't feel uncomfortable or out of place, but I also wasn't particularly driven to impress anyone. For some reason, I think that my overpriced law school education has somehow validated me. It's hard to articulate any more than that without using derisive words that I don't want to use.

I suppose I will use an example that had my mom laughing so hard she choked. I was in a group of people and talk turned to politcking at polls, and the art of the political handshake. The host of the event smoothly mentioned that he just happened to be reading a biography of Theodore Roosevelt, and the host wasn't sure if we read a lot of biographies or not, or whether we had read this one, but the book mentions that Teddy at one time held the Guiness Record for most handshakes in a day. One of the individuals in my conversation group was just a little older than the rest of us, and is a political player in the state, and asked the host who wrote it. The host stumbled a bit, not sure of the author, but invited him inside to look at his biography collection.

During this conversation, I looked on with a detached amusement. I was enjoying participating in the conversation, but the part of me removed from the conversation was just processing how much I don't want to be like that. I don't want to name-drop biographies to look impressive, which in actuality achieved the opposite result for this guy. Then I giggled in my head, thinking about how much fun it would be to reveal, at a political party function, that I am currently working my way through a biography of a Marxist guerrilla because I saw a movie on it and Gael Garcia Bernal is just sooooo cute?

"Welcome to the world of intellectual elitism," my escort said to me the next day, when I revealed my personal astonishment at the tenor of the event. It's true, I suppose. I think I'm good at identifying good people in a crowd. For instance, one of the smartest people at that party was someone who has been working towards a college degree for several years now and is in restaurant management. I hope my intellectual elitism remains finely tuned enough to weed out the vapid educated individuals from the intelligent hard-working individuals.

today

- This week's Onion is hysterical.

- The O.C. season premiere is tonight! I cannot wait!

- The Pats start tonight right after the O.C.!

- Finally, after more phone calls, I was assured that I am not starting work next Monday, and will eventually get something via mail or email. Let's hope this happens sooner rather than later, so I can stop being convinced that no one knows I exist.

day 9

Still waiting. Another phone call and voicemail to yet another individual. Fingers crossed.

On Slate:
How race shaped Bush's response to Katrina.
Don't rebuild New Orleans.

UPDATE: Ok, so what do I do? I still haven't heard anything. I sent in my acceptance letter three weeks ago. I was told that I would hear from them NO LATER than August 31. I have a right to be a little concerned, right? Is it appropriate to continue calling people who have not returned my calls? I know they have more important things to do, like defend clients, so I don't want to be a waste of time, but my polite and deferential methods have not yet worked. Also, is it safe to assume I will not be starting on the Sept 12 start date?

P.S. I do. not. ever. want to hear the Red Cross or a public defender agency bemoaning their lack of resources. Ever. again. I'm a 25 year old woman with a J.D. and willing to engage in hard labor, I'm begging them to put me to work one way or another, and yet both refuse to acknowledge me. Never have I regretted being a sucker for a cause more than I regret it now.

fuck 'em

Having still heard nothing (seven days and counting, mofos!) I went ahead and lined up another job.  I am currently sitting by myself in my mother's humble abode, surfing the dial-up net and trying to figure out how the fuck to entertain myself tonight, wondering what to eat and why the fuck this city has no Indian or Thai food, drinking (and totally buzzed on) the Miller High Life that my little brother left behind last week before he left for his cross-country road trip, and wondered what kind of men I could pick up with a line like, "Hey, I'm sexy and unemployed... wanna come back to my mom's house, drink my little brother's beer, and make out on my little sister's bed?"

 

This is the life I envisioned when I took on $150k in prestigious law school debt, Yesssssssirreeeeee.

still waiting

I'm still waiting to hear from the job that I accepted. I was supposed to hear back no later than 7 days ago. I still have yet to hear anything. I have emailed (last week), called (last week) and left a voicemail (today) for one individual; the other individual is still on vacation. I have no other contact information for anyone else. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do, but I am more than a little freaked out that I may have to relocate and start work by next Monday, but don't know it yet; or that somehow my paperwork got dropped behind a bookshelf somewhere and no one cares about me or my employment any longer.

So my question is, how long do I wait before I just start looking for another job? I'm really wondering what the hell else I am supposed to do right now, short of hopping on a plane, then getting in a cab, and marching directly into the office, chaining myself to a desk until someone agrees to tell me what is going on.

Perhaps now I know how some clients feel about their attorneys.

being poor

John Scalzi on being poor.

Growing up poor means always believing, no matter how successful you become, that you are one misstep away from being cold and hungry again.

link from Skelly at Arbitrary and Capricious

ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

I'm tidying my blogroll, which presents the question: to whom do I link and why? I do not link to nearly as many blogs as I read. Nor do I intend to link to all the blogs I read. I suppose I try to link to blogs that relate to why I keep this blog, although the purpose of the blog (law geek outlet) has been eclipsed by my lack of time, patience, and ability to keep law geeking. I also do not read all the blogs to which I link. I link to some blogs for the purpose of trying them on for size; some blogs I've been perusing for months haven't yet made it on. I will continue to peruse the murky world of blawgs and please do not be insulted; there are no inferences to be drawn from placement or non-placement of your link on my page. And I don't usually entertain requests, even if I have been lurking around your page for over a year. Is this bad form? I mean, I suppose it is a courtesy to link to those who link to you, but I don't want people linking to me as a courtesy; I want them linking to me because they think I'm relevant.

I'm also still batting around the idea of switching over to the BlawgCoop with Ambivalent Imbroglio, who was nice enough to get me started on it months ago, but since then I have not had the time or the high speed internet to actually make the switch. Who knows what is to come?

New Orleans SOS

Chaos in New Orleans
I wonder how I would feel if my mayor ordered the police to stop saving people in order to start shooting looters. I wonder how I would feel if the National Guard were arriving in droves, only to serve the same purpose.

You want to stop the looting and violence? Get the people who have been perched on the roof of submerged cars for 4 days now. Get people off the tops of houses. Get people out of the Superdome. Fuck the TV sets and jewelry. People are DYING.

Of course, the problem is, there is no city to go back to. The people who have to be saved have nowhere to go, nothing to bring. And it's not going to be like that just for a few weeks... it's going to be like that for a very long time. There are only so many weeks you can live in the Astrodome wearing only the clothes on your back.

impatience

Not being able to sit idly by any longer, I contacted my local Red Cross yesterday to volunteer. The local paper said that they were looking for people to attend a day-long training, who could volunteer to be deployed to the Gulf Coast for at least a 2 week period. I'm waiting to hear back as to whether they'll use me or not.

It seems I've been doing a lot of waiting in the past few months, and I'm really starting to get annoyed. I'm ready to go, I'm ready to work, and no one else seems ready. I don't even know that I could go to the Gulf Coast for two weeks because I don't actually know my start date yet, which I was supposed to know no later than yesterday, and all of the people associated with making my offer have been on vacation since the time that my acceptance letter was due. So who, exactly, is receiving these letters and making the assignments? "Call back on Sept 6" does not make me happy. And I understand the Red Cross is swamped right now, so I'll be more than happy to march down to the office and refuse to leave until they deploy me. But don't solicit volunteers to contact you via phone and email if you will not respond to those forms of communication.

I never thought I'd get bored with doing nothing, but that time has come. I'm bored out of my mind. I'm so bored that I can't even watch TV or read the books I checked out from the library. It's not as warm anymore, so going swimming isn't really an option, but I would really like the time in the sun. Sometime over the past week, summer started officially disappearing, and now it's fall. There's no longer any excuse to be lazy. I need to get up and do something; I need to know whether and when I'm moving; I need to know whether I'll be in New Orleans or in an office next week. I'm ready to go, and all this uncertainty is irking me.

One great thing about fall is pumpkin spice coffee. Yum. My favorite flavored coffee of all time is the Holiday Spice coffee that Borders sells in the winter. It's hands down the best spiced coffee ever. I'm going to go drink some coffee and resume my day job on the couch.

freaking out, because this is what I do.

I was supposed to learn no later than today what my start date and office assignments were. Well, of course, this information has not come. A phone call to the hiring coordinator and an email to the attorney listed as a contact showed that they are both currently on vacation.

Which can only mean one thing.

They never got my acceptance, and thus I'm unemployed again.

Ok, it doesn't necessarily mean that, but I'm convinced, and there's no convincing me otherwise.

Aaaaaagggghhhh.

another addition to the garbage heap

Mr. STF - remember him? My short whirlwind romance from last summer, that
dragged on over the year with cryptic and dirty emails, text messaging,
and then the brief but very pleasant encounter this past May? Well, we
continue to communicate, which I enjoy, except now? He has a girlfriend.
This has not quite stopped him from emailing me, which I'm thankful for,
but was it really necessary that he continue to make reference to our
naked time together? Really? Was that necessary? I'm still recovering
from the shame of making out with a 22 yr old brother of a friend. I'm
fragile. Please, no naked references. Not from you, Mr. STF. This
madness must end somewhere.

remnants

I've been watching the hurricane coverage for days now. I wasn't particularly interested until I found out that it wasn't going to hit New Orleans as much as it was going to hit Biloxi and Gulfport. I haven't been able to stop watching. This morning, without looking, I took a coffee mug down from the shelf that says "Biloxi Beach," where I lived for several years. I remember being fascinated by the history and beauty of Beauvoir; I remember the houses that lined the same street as Beauvoir - the old Southern mansions that are separated from the ocean by nothing more than 4 lanes of traffic. I remember the large pillars, and the house that had a huge palm tree growing right in the middle of the steps to the front door. I remember the playground where I had my first kiss, which was later graced by our initials written with one of those select-a-color pens. I remember my first two boyfriends. I remember all the drills we went through in school - there was a bell system for each one. A hurricane drill, tornado drill, train derailment drill, and I think the 4th was some sort of nuclear annihilation drill. I remember having to go to a hurricane shelter once. I remember preparing for all the tropical storms and even a tornado warning. I remember our neighbors and the other residents who always insisted that hurricanes were not going to be that bad, who never sought shelter, who were determined to remain in their homes. I remember that it never really was that bad. Some broken windows, some strewn debris.

I think about my old house, and the history of Beauvoir, and that palm tree bursting through the stairs of that mansion, and that playground with my initials, and I wonder how much of it is still standing.

Jack Balkin: Alive and Kicking: Why no one truly believes in a dead Constitution.

But there's a more important problem here: Non-originalist decisions that guarantee race and sex equality, that protect free speech and the rights of criminal defendants, and that give Congress power to protect the environment and secure equal civil rights are not unfortunate errors that we are just stuck with because of "reliance." They are some of our country's proudest achievements. There's something deeply wrong with a theory of constitutional interpretation that treats some of the key civil rights decisions of the 20th century as mistakes that we are stuck with. For if decisions like Brown, Loving, Craig v. Boren, and Griswold v. Connecticut are mistakes, we should read them as narrowly as possible and overturn them at the first opportunity. But that's not how Americans regard these decisions. They are evidence of our gradual progress as a nation. They are what make us a country conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all people are created equal.

the garbage heap that is my love life

I had a full 48 hours of drinking scheduled for the weekend; but after the first 7 hours, I was pretty much done for.

Friday night was a friend's going away party. I got dolled up and was definitely ready for a night on the town. I acessorized. There was makeup involved. And the sexy little black top was paired with jeans and some "I'm going to hate myself in the morning" shoes. I hadn't seen these friends in almost 8 months, and I was ready to make up for some lost time.

It was a lengthy trip to the bar via public transportation. For most of the walk and most of the ride, my eyes were locked with those of The Twin. He converses in a manner that makes you believe that you are the most fascinating and engaging person in the room. And he greeted me with a hug and a kiss. He is so very crush-worthy. Trust that I have crushed. It was a very pleasant way to start the evening.

We got to the bar a little after 7 pm. The party was kickin.' Hours of socialization ensue. One friend, whom I haven't spent significant time with in many years, appeared. We were so delighted that we embraced, we squealed, we kissed, we giggled, we hugged again, I nibbled his neck, he asked for more, and I told him we could make out later. He said, "WOTL, it's so great to see you again, and I like my handjobs nice and tight." I laughed my ass off. He then introduced me to his younger brother, who I met once when he was significantly shorter and a little nerdier. Now he's a senior in college, about 6'2", just getting back from 9 months in Australia, and is about 110 pounds.

I spent a lot of the beginning of the night drinking beer and catching up with a nother friend, not in the group of friends assembled, who then led me down the dangerous path of tequila shots. By the time we left the first bar, I: was $80 lighter, despite the fact I had purchased only half my drinks; was drunk almost to the point of blindness; had an extended cell phone conversation with the father of friend & little bro (who I do not know), during which the father told me that Little Bro was a really cool kid, I should hook up with him, and that Little Bro could definitely use a night with me; I informed Little Bro of this and Little Bro vowed never to speak to his father again; I engaged in relationship counseling with The Twin while secretly willing him to leave his girlfriend for me; I made friends with the boyfriend of a friend of a friend, who was later dumped by friend of a friend; continued to flirt with The Twin; had several friendly, "You Poor Thing You Don't Really Know Anyone" conversations with the Little Bro, who turned out to be pretty cool, and then stumbled to several more bars, the names and locations of which I have absolutely NO recollection.

From there, I lost an earring and a shoe; insisted that the Birthday Girl of the party walking behind me DID NOT LOOK 40 AT ALL (she didn't); broke up a fight because I am a public defender and I somehow, after 18 tequila shots, thought these two things were relevant factors to each other; then after saving that fight/marriage the wedding party was actually affirmatively insulting to me, so I screamed at the top of my lungs how much I hate Australians (I think they were. Maybe they were Scottish or something. Dunno.) and will never go there. So some other guy on the street found this to be a good time to come over and comfort me, which he did, and then Little Bro kindly steered me away from that. Then there were a few more bars, and me going back and forth between flirting with The Twin and flirting with the Little Bro. I vaulted a gate to catch the train, and on the way back home, as I was holding hands with the Little Bro, I leaned against a wall, pulled him to me, and kissed him.

After pizza, we finally found our way home. A few of us remained outside on the steps, talking under the stars. The conversations were of the deep and meaningful kind that only happen after a crazy night of partying, while still drunk, and in the stillness of the dead of the night. I said my goodnights and announced I was going up to bed. Little Bro stood up and said, "I'm going with you." Apparently, I was the only one who understood that this meant that we'd be sharing a bed - everyone else thought his intention was merely to retire for the night. I, on the other hand, knew differently, and thought that it was pretty hot that he announced it so smoothly, quietly, and confidently.

So that happened... but I'm not dirty enough to go all THAT far with a 22 year old kid that happens to be my friend's little brother. He is a cool kid, and cute, and it was nice to sleep in the arms of a guy. Even if he was born in 1983. *cringe*

The next day, I was exhausted and had a sour stomach all day, which led me to eat a large plate of diner food in the morning and not much for the rest of the day. After drinking lots of Coke at the BBQ, I finally just drank a few beers and voila! Hangover cured. How disturbing. Later that night, more drinks at another party ensued, and I was still exhausted but trying to remain standing. Little bro and I flirted, touched, insinuated... but by the end of the night, I realized he was doing the same with another girl, who happens to be cute, blonde, and the roommate of my friend/Little Bro's brother. And this is how it went. I slept alone, and he went home with her. NO FUCKING JOKE.

So if I had any dignity remaining by Saturday morning after making out with Little Bro, that shred was eviscerated when I was then bounced for another woman. It's not necessarily an ego hit that we didn't make out again - it was an ego hit that everyone KNEW we had the night before, and then he was mackin' on some other chick. And trust me when I say, he's not nearly that smooth. So I danced with one guy who told me he had been watching me all night, which was fine until he sat down and wanted me to give him a lap dance in the middle of the bar and kept trying to put his face in my bosom; another guy came over to dance with my female friend and I, and when she asked (not so nicely) "Do I know you?" he patted her on the back, kissed my shoulder (kissed my shoulder? WTF?), and left.

During all of this, another guy with whom I've been friends for, oh, 6 years now? kept grabbing my rear end, asking me to grab his, kissing me, trying to convince me that we should hook up, etc etc.

Long before everyone else was ready to call it quits, I looked around and realized that everyone else was really, genuinely having a good time, and I was most definitely not. About an hour and a half later, I finally decided to make my way home by myself. It's best to cut one's losses at that point. No more ass-grabbing, bosom-burying, barely adolescent men for me.

While there were some casualties of the weekend (like my lost / broken jewelry, dignity) it was overall a great time with friends. It also made me wonder how and where in the world I'll ever find a man worth dating.

P.S. Can someone teach me how to cut text behind a link in an entry? You know, where I can put in a 'continue reading' link so my entries don't always take up an entire page?

dial-up internet and a non-compliant mouse has caused me to miss all things related to news.  Dahlia also had a great article on John Roberts here

Constitution: Dead or Alive?

I love it when legal arguments have me humming Bon Jovi. And Kiefer was a total hottie in young guns 2. Dahlia, my favoritest ever, is doing a series on why, or whether, the Living Constitution idea is dead, and invited reader input. Some interesting thoughts being bantered about. Definitely check it out here and here.

The Woman, She is Officially Employed.

And the world rejoiced.

today was a good day

I am as tan as I have ever been. I believe the words to describe me are "bronze goddess." Those are the words I use, anyway.

I FINALLY found a Tim Wakefield t-shirt, so now I can end the "I refuse to by any Red Sox t-shirt until I buy a Tim Wakefield shirt" strike. No joke, I owned ZERO Sox tees for that reason. (Well, ok, I had one long-sleeve World Champions shirt. But it was a gift, and I love it.)

I joined a gym for their 30 day free trial. Perhaps I will soon feel less squishy.

Not so good, actually annoying but now amusing? The optical mouse attached to my mother's computer has decided that it only works in alternate five minute intervals, which has certainly hindered my websurfing time. I just discovered that picking the mouse up about 8 inches from the mousepad and dropping it several times helps it work again. How fun.

Need reading and listening recommendations. Apparently NONE of the drug stores around here carry the Economist, which is like crack to me. I just finished "Sammy's Hill" and "Angels and Demons." Both excellent beach books. There are several pages in Angels and Demons that make me believe it could be a religion, and would be a religion I enjoyed. The new Scientology! Move over, L. Ron Hubbard. When I get a better mouse and better internet, I'll search inside the book and pull out the excerpts that struck me in more of a spiritual manner, rather than a sunshine and cocoa butter manner.

breathe in, breathe out

Step 1: Notify sponsor of intent to withdraw fellowship app.

That's what I did today. And then hours later, I received the bittersweet response, regarding the missed opportunity for such an innovative project and a missed opportunity to bring me to their office. The sentiment was appreciated, but of course, it upset me like I knew it would, and I've spent a good part of the afternoon wallowing on the couch with the depressing music on my iPod. I nurtured this, I brought it to life. Then I abandoned it. I feel guilty, like I abandoned the attorneys and the clients. I need a moment to mourn the loss of this very specific dream, and to shake off some of this guilt.

Step 2: Notify funding agency of withdrawal.

Check. Hopefully their response will not inspire the same reaction.

But for the past few weeks, I've slowly been prepping. I've steeled myself to make this decision. Making a decision either way was going to result in a loss in some form, so neither option was easier to accept than the other.

Now I have to go accept the other position. As my mother pointed out, it's generally wiser to accept one before withdrawing from the other. But part of me hoped that they could offer me something at the last minute, some sort of guaranteed employment, that would allow me to continue to pursue the withdrawn project. Something, anything, to make this decision easier. It didn't happen. But hey, life is full of difficult decisions. And I've made mine. I'm paralyzed with terror that I could have made the wrong decision - again, I think either decision would have left me feeling that way. But the decision has been made, and now I have to go forward accepting that either decision could also be the right one. It's time to look at why I'm the luckiest SOB for having a choice at all between two dream jobs.

Well hell. I'm going to be a public defender! It's about time. I have to get that acceptance letter out ASAP...

to the batcave!

I threw out my batsignal yesterday. After days of avoiding friends' phone calls and emails, I sent out a mass email, my batsignal. I told them about the job offer I received. I told them I was going to take it, except that I had some hesitation. I laid out my choices and told them why I was going to make this choice, and why I was hesitant. And I begged. What should I do?

And they all responded. It wasn't the answers to the questions I posed that really got to me. It was the feedback and the thoughtful responses, not the answers, that just leveled me. Seriously, they are the most incredible group of people ever assembled. These responses have singlehandedly shot my confidence in accepting this job from 80% up to 94%.

I use this blog to write about me, and to avoid problems in my personal life, I avoid writing about my friends. And it's a crying shame, because they are such incredible people. I think I'm going to have to lift the ban on writing about others. It's going to take tricky filtering, to make sure that the only stuff that gets on here is stuff that I'm 100% sure will not reveal or bother the people about whom I write; nevertheless, it has to be done. These people are too wonderful not to share with the world.

on music: a confession

I am whatever the exact opposite pole of "music snob" is. If I know what's hot, it's from my 18 year old sister. I only own a handful of CDs, and generally don't listen to much more than what is on the radio or what I overhear someone else playing. (Luckily I hang out with people who have their finger on the pulse of cool music).

Thus, my iPod dilemma. Having an iPod is only as good as your music selection. I never, ever bought music, although loved the mp3 craze. Imagine how terrible my iPod is. I have an Ace of Base CD, the soundtrack to Aladdin, an old Janet Jackson -these are all from when I was in junior high. And still they remain in my CD holder. If any guy ever tried to draw conclusions about me from my CD collection, he'd probably conclude that I'm a fantastic freak, and he'd be right. Anyway... my iPod shit the bed, so I lost all the great music I had bought or snarked from other people and now have to redo it all. All (12 of) my CDs are in storage now, so I'm at the mercy of other people's CD collections at this point.

I can't figure out which is more amusing - the fact that my dad has 3 Guns N Roses CDs, or the fact that I just uploaded all of them.

P.S. I watched the "Wild N Out" episode with Kanye - loved it. Then, right after that, it was supposed to be Pimp My Ride, which I also love, but it was an interview of Kanye by my very fave MTV personality Sway.

kanye

calls for an end to gay bashing
I've never seen the show, but there is some show on MTV tonight that is going to have rappers heckling Kanye. One asks him to make a song without a sample, and my ears perked up. Yes! Please! So I'm going to watch it tonight. I do adore Kanye.

more about what's next

We were frightened of being left alone for the rest of our lives. Only people of a certain disposition are frightened of being alone for the rest of their lives at the age of 26, and we were of that disposition. - High Fidelity

I promised another part to this entry, on Friends. I wrote an entry, but I'm not going to post it. It's a little too personal, and I really try to keep this blog generic. Besides, I'm trying to remain anonymous, and it's become ridiculous trying to blog about these things while cloaking my whereabouts.

Generally speaking, though, as I'm trying to make a decision about where I go next, I've been considering where my communities are. I want to find a community in which I can continue to grow as a person. I'm not ready to stop figuring things out. I'm not ready to stop stumbling over challenges or insecurities. I'm not ready to stop reaching out and slowly examining the edges of what's comfortable to me. On the other hand, I'm ready to stop making big mistakes. I'm ready to stop doing things for the purposes of status, or because I think such status is expected of me. I'm ready to stop doing things because everyone else is. I'm ready to accept that a lot of the things I need to lead a happy life are things I already have.

In my home community, I have a lot of friends from high school with whom I'm still close, and I still love dearly. But it's no longer my community. I'm not ready to join it. They're married, they own houses, they have jobs, they have kids. The other night, I saw two of my closest girlfriends from high school. As we walked through a store, one mentioned that she and her husband have talked about having kids, and that maybe in the next year, they were going to start trying. She had some concerns about how that will impact the type of life that she and her husband want to lead, and that concern remains unresolved. She said exasperated, "But I mean, I want to have kids before I'm 30!"

Oooof.

I love coming home and visiting, and catching up, and I love love love love the kiddos. The two kiddos who have sprung forth from the loins of my pal since 7th grade are the cutest darn kids ever, and I had several pictures of them that I had posted during my bar studying. BarBri recommends putting a picture of someone who is really super smart and failed the bar, or a picture of someone who is really dumb that passed. I think that cutting pictures out of the facebook of people I don't know but only hear about in law school lore is fucking crazy. But putting pictures of the two most wonderful tykes in the whole world on my desk reminded me that there are so many wonderful, amazing, heart-filling things out there in the world, and none of them have anything to do with whether or not I know what a Totten trust is. It reminded me that there was just one other thing in all of my life that I wanted to do besides be a public defender. I want to raise a family.

But I'm not there yet, and I don't know when I will be. Kids by the age of 30 is definitely not happening for me, although I thought it would. Now I'm just hoping for marriage by 34, kids by 37. Right now those are my set limits. But when I hit 34 and I'm still not married, I'm sure they will go up again.

So I have to go where I think I will meet people I like. I want to go somewhere I think I could stay for a while. Unfortunately, the remaining two cities of the three cities I'm considering each embody one of these. There's one city that I think will be a place I'd stay. Stay, and not leave. What a novel idea. There's another city where my law school friends will be, and those are the people in my life who right now are the people most suited to being my community. Most of my friends are single, a few are cohabitating with their significant others, and all of them are starting their career right now. I think they're the greatest group of people ever assembled in one place, and why the hell would I leave that now? And while I don't see myself living there forever, it would be silly to think that being in a place where I would not be happy or feel comfortable would lead me on the path to a pleasant future, just because it looks like what I want my future to look like.

And of course, that deep rooted, skittish fear that I will never get married rears its ugly head, and fuck. Is there any wonder? I'm a raging freak and clearly am in need of a Prozac drip.

The Washington Post on choosing an administrator for the DC jail.

MD closes secure youth facility due to abhorrent conditions. Solution? Ship them to Idaho. Ugh. Such a freakin' DISASTER.

musings

1. Porn with the significant other - Do or Don't? Different from the ones already stashed in your closet? How does one implement such a plan?

2. I found out today that a good friend, who happens to be an old ex, lies to his girlfriend when he hangs out with me. Discuss.

3. Sitemeter's slogan: doing what we can to assist internet stalkers, one longitudinal degree at a time.

I think I'm in love.

I had to rent a truck today to move a mattress from one temporary storage area to another. I got a Dodge Ram 1500 Quad Cab SLT. I've always wanted a truck, a beat up white Chevy in which I could ramble down country roads in the summer with the windows open and the radio blaring. But my oh my, this truck stole my heart. I believe it is the largest truck on four wheels, and I did 80 on the highway and weaved in and out of traffic in the big city, no problem. I slowed down once I had the mattress perilously strapped into the back, but now that the mattress is unloaded, I have some driving to do. After all, I have my love until tomorrow at 11 a.m.

Bad.ass.

home sweet home

I am house-sitting this week for two houses, one of which includes a hot tub and pool. SWEET. I am big pimpin.' Which is to say, totally lame. I will swim when and if I can find my bathing suit (it seems I lost it between here and Lake Michigan) and will spend the rest of the time watching DVDs, baseball, and drinking coffee/beer/wine while eating the awesome food stocked in someone else's fridge. This is the life, my friends.

In the 36 hours I've been home, I've:
- gone to the mall TWICE
- gone grocery shopping with Mom (it doesn't get any more fun with age)
- received an offer from my younger brother to be set up with a guy he described as "definitely not your type"
- been subjected to what I thought was a party, so I brought my kickass artichoke & spinach dip, but ended up being a guy's night, so I was then subjected to watching a poker game and a few porn flicks
- received the requisite, "Do you have a job? A boyfriend? When was the last time you got laid?" questions (The answers are no, no, and way too long ago)

Blonde Justice linked to a really good post about a late-night lineup.

The last two weeks have been rough. In one 10-day period, I took the bar, packed and moved out of the house I’ve lived in for two years, moved all of my worldly belongings into a storage unit, had a job opportunity suddenly and without warning nearly disappear, then reappear again, had my car vandalized, moved back in with my mother, and flew to a wedding and vacation, and reluctantly returned.

Where to begin?

Let’s just go by topic.

The Job

Next: The Friends

I've lost that lovin' feeling.

First, the job. Or the lack thereof. I don’t even know how to begin to explain what has happened with the job search. To refresh: there are two job opportunities I’m currently pursuing. One is a job that I’m creating; the other is a job I was assured I’d get. The Friday after the bar, while I was moving out of my house and about to leave the town I’ve called home for the past three years, I received news that there was a possibility that there were fundamental differences of opinion about the job I was working to create. This was quite unexpected, and if any shred of my sanity was intact at that point, it was thereafter razed. I did not respond to this news, but instead took a few deep breaths, and only a few moments later I was on the phone to the job I was assured I would get. I left a message, inquiring as to when I should expect to hear from them officially, since I was long ago assured an offer? Since that time, I’ve lost any feelings I’ve had about each job. I’m no longer capable of feeling attached to the job I created, nor am I able to feel excited or happy about either job opportunity. My senses have been dulled by what has now been a year-long process, and that Friday was the last shred of my own sense of self in this process. Since that time, I have only been capable of looking at this all with a cold feeling of economics and the muted desire to escape this reeling madness.

And then, out of the blue, a third opportunity reappeared. This organization has sought me out three times now for a job. And every time, I assure them I’m still very interested. And then I follow up, and my contacts go unreturned. And then months later, I hear from them again, same inquiry, same reassurance from me, and same silence from them. When I heard they had offered my friend a job, a job I wanted so very badly and a job I knew he would not take, it made me ill. So this time, yet again, I assure them I’m interested, but this time it is without feeling. I don’t care. I don’t care if they hire me tomorrow or if I never speak to them again. For now, I will neither be happy nor disappointed.

The job to be created was restored back to its original level of uncertainty, and I still have yet to hear back from the other job. I will follow up again, but I sense the answer cannot be good. Some moments, I care very little about what result that follow-up phone call will bring – any result is result enough. Other moments, I frantically cling to the hope that this madness was not all in my head; that when they said I would have the job, they weren’t lying. Because if that wisp of certainty were to fade away, I would really and truly be homeless and unemployed.

I’m not taking time off now because I don’t know what I want to do, or because I need to do some soul-searching. I’m so proud of what I’ve done. There is no doubt in my mind that law school was the right choice, and that the law school I chose was perfect. I have not one regret about my three years, and I wouldn’t do anything differently. I’ve worked hard and learned a lot. I know what I want to do; I’d go almost anywhere to be able to do it. I’ve put all my effort into being able to do it. I know that public sector work can take a little while. I’ve worked long and hard and in return, have asked for nothing more than a job that I will love.

And for all that work, I have nothing to show. For all of my effort, and my education, and my debt, I’m starting to fear that this is what failure looks like. That fear is what paralyzes me and it inhibits my ability to interact with anyone. The moments when That Fear creeps up into my gut also wraps a tight fist around my heart, makes my eyes sting, my stomach shrink, and my head fill with a throbbing pain. At those moments, which arrive at any time, in any place, and with no warning, I know that my face changes, and the curtain of confidence drops, revealing a sullen or scowling look. I feel the angry tears come to my eyes but know that those tears won’t drop – I know that they stay, pooled and burning, in my eyes.

Several times a day for the past few months, and especially in the past few weeks, I’ve had to field questions about what the future holds for me. Every time the question is asked of me, I get the same feeling as when I see the check engine light come on. I get tense, and anxious, and I’m afraid that my world will come crashing down around my ears, and please oh please sweet Lord, I’m not asking for much, not even A/C or power locks or a radio that can scan both up and down the channels, but just get me to where I need to be next. Please, just get me there, or at least to a gas station or a place with cell phone reception.

I want other people to know that I believe in what I’m doing and that I’ve foregone other opportunities because I believe so strongly in what I’m doing. Except it gets harder and harder to put on a tired smile and explain, yet again, that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m hardly in a position to convince someone else if I am no longer convinced myself. No, I don’t know where I’m going. Where I’m moving. What I’ll be doing next. Yeah, I took that state’s bar. I don’t know exactly what that means for my job process, but I do know that these other states will hire me if I’m barred in that state. I don’t know where I’d rather be. Let’s talk about you now.

The day that I left LawSchoolTown was one of the worst. My departure had been delayed by several days because of the aforementioned Friday News, and the necessary work that went into restoring that opportunity to its original level of uncertainty. As my last ounce of energy had been sapped by the Friday News, it took an extraordinary amount of borrowed energy to diligently work things out in the subsequent days. I had to forego a day trip on my way back home, to a destination that I had so desperately wanted to see, and know that I will not have the opportunity to see again. Then, on Wednesday morning, I went to my car and found the words “FUCK U” carved into my trunk in large letters. At first, I didn’t care; I was more concerned about the more vulgar language on my friend’s car, and how he would react. I was afraid that he’d be much more upset. Since I’d had a dream that my car had been broken into and all my belongings stolen the night before, I was just relieved that my car was intact.

But as I embarked upon my several hour drive, my misery deepened. I was leaving my town and my community on an anticlimactic note, to say the least. I had to whittle the importance of my life to three suitcases. I was heading towards an uncertain future that, for the immediate present, is an indefinite stay at my mother’s house. I have an extreme amount of debt that I cannot even begin to repay, despite the monthly loan bills that have come due. My check engine light came on every 15 minutes for many, many hours. And to top it all off, I was driving around with vulgar, billboard sized words carved into my car. I can’t afford to get it fixed because I’m broke and homeless. I’m broke and homeless because, more than anything in the world, I feel compelled to tirelessly advocate on behalf of the assholes who decided to senselessly vandalize my car.

And then my landlord informed me I wasn’t getting my deposit back because the new tenants whined that the ceilings were dirty.

And they wouldn’t let me on the plane because they informed me that I had been on the previous plane to that destination, and despite the fact that I missed my connection because this airline is utterly incompetent and eternally late, apparently I had managed to both get on the previous plane and miss it.

And then they lost my luggage.

Those angry tears sprung to my eyes again. I want someone to acknowledge that this is an inhuman amount of stress. I took the bar and moved, all while juggling job bullshit, I have no place to live and no money, my car is a total piece of shit that I cannot afford to fix or replace, and now I’m driving around with the words “FUCK U” on it. The bar exam itself is enough to drive one person mad – and yet, the bar exam was the least stressful event of the past few weeks, if that’s any indication of how horrid my life is. I do not want pity or coddling. I want someone to see not weakness but strength in my angry burning tears. I want someone to acknowledge that my dedication to this population of clients is so strong that I have given absolutely everything, and have accepted every conceivable burden, and that what I’ve done is incredibly, incredibly difficult – much more difficult than any comparable pursuit of employment. I honestly, truly, plainly, and sincerely have absolutely nothing more to give. Maybe the vandalism on my car really does express my sentiments. Fuck you too.

to blog or not to blog?

I just graduated from law school. I loved it. I had great friends, a really good educational experience, and discovered a passion for public defender work. As a result, I'm now really fucking broke and unemployed.

Well folks, I'll be transient indefinitely, and I'm unsure what my internet access will be. I love to blog, but it's clear I've had nothing to say for at least a few months now anyway. So, there's a chance you won't be hearing from me for a while. There's also a chance that I'll be posting hourly out of pure boredom. Just wanted to say, Woman of the Law is still here, although wishing she were "Woman of a Different Career Field" right now (is it too late to be a teacher?) and the headline, "I ain't passed the bar" still holds true. Here's to moving back in with your parents. God help us.