Last semester, I remarked on my susceptibility to junk music.
Friends, I have reached a new low.
It's so embarrassing, in fact, that I'll reveal only its provenance: Disney's Enchanted.
So low.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Territory
The law library, or lawbrary as my friends like to call it, is off-limits to undergraduates. Signs are posted at the entry to the building in very clear print. Every semester, however, a few insouciant undergrads will infiltrate the carrels. This bothers me. In the past, it's bothered me enough to sic the library staff on the interlopers.
Yesterday, an undergraduate boldly sat down next to me. I could tell she was not a law student because, well, law students don't study the Principles of Biology. At least, not outside a bar review. Despite my heightened annoyance, I was too tired to truck myself down to the circulation desk to have her kicked out. Later I thought, well, she's being very industrious and I should encourage that. Which ultimately made me wonder, have I gone soft in my 3L old age?
Yesterday, an undergraduate boldly sat down next to me. I could tell she was not a law student because, well, law students don't study the Principles of Biology. At least, not outside a bar review. Despite my heightened annoyance, I was too tired to truck myself down to the circulation desk to have her kicked out. Later I thought, well, she's being very industrious and I should encourage that. Which ultimately made me wonder, have I gone soft in my 3L old age?
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Lucky
Yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of attending a friend’s unusual birthday party. She had arranged a wine class for her friends, so we had the entire wine school to ourselves. We sipped and we tasted, and we learned about what we should look for when we go to the store. She also provided us antipasti and dessert, and I went home thinking I had had a most enjoyable night. I had spent the evening with friends, I had learned a bit about wine, and I had been generously fed.
After breakfast this morning, I reflected to the Captain how fortunate I felt to lead the life I do. I have been blessed with a wealth of generous friends who support me constantly. I have been lucky to land a great job, and even though the economy’s shaky, I’m confident about my options. I have my Captain. Deciding to go to law school really was one of the best decisions I ever have made.
No wonder somebody wants to steal my identity.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Accentuate the Positive
Yesterday, the Tax Man told me I was a victim of identity theft. I had called the IRS to ask where my refund was because I had filed my tax return a while ago and because I really want my tax refund. The IRS told me they had two tax returns on file so they couldn't give me my refund until I proved to them that I am, in fact, the real KHC. So I've filed a complaint with the Federal Trade Commission and a report with the Boston police. Later today I'll be going to the local IRS office to put these things in my file and to beg for my tax refund.
Thing is, I've been surprisingly calm about the whole affair. My credit reports look good and I've put fraud alerts with all three bureaus. Until the IRS tells me they can't give me my refund, I have nothing to fuss about. Last night I noted my nonchalance to the Captain, "Isn't it nice that I've been so calm about everything?" Last week my firm tells me I can't start work until 2009 and this week the Tax Man tells me somebody's stolen my identity. But all I can think about is the free lunch I'm getting at school at the end of the week. And the party my friends are throwing on the Cape at the end of the semester. And the bulldog we'll get when the Captain hooks up with a coaching gig. And the marathon I'll be running the fall.
It's all pretty cool.
Thing is, I've been surprisingly calm about the whole affair. My credit reports look good and I've put fraud alerts with all three bureaus. Until the IRS tells me they can't give me my refund, I have nothing to fuss about. Last night I noted my nonchalance to the Captain, "Isn't it nice that I've been so calm about everything?" Last week my firm tells me I can't start work until 2009 and this week the Tax Man tells me somebody's stolen my identity. But all I can think about is the free lunch I'm getting at school at the end of the week. And the party my friends are throwing on the Cape at the end of the semester. And the bulldog we'll get when the Captain hooks up with a coaching gig. And the marathon I'll be running the fall.
It's all pretty cool.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
B stands for Baking
Associate at my firm: So, really, you have nothing to worry about.
Me: (slightly disappointed) Oh. Well, that's good. To be honest, though, I'd already cooked up a fabulous plan b.
Associate: Really? That's good. Well, make sure to keep in touch with that other firm.
Me: (pausing, then realizing he thinks I've already hooked up with another firm) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Me: (slightly disappointed) Oh. Well, that's good. To be honest, though, I'd already cooked up a fabulous plan b.
Associate: Really? That's good. Well, make sure to keep in touch with that other firm.
Me: (pausing, then realizing he thinks I've already hooked up with another firm) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
I know it's the end of the semester when
1) My email slows to a trickle; and
2) I check it at an even more feverish rate.
1) My email slows to a trickle; and
2) I check it at an even more feverish rate.
Fabulous Plan B
Last week, my hiring partner called to tell me the firm was pushing my start date from October 1 to January 2 because of the economic downturn. And because of the disaster that is the Southern California real estate market.
Naturally, I had a cow.
The last time I had heard about "deferrals" was in 2001, my senior year of college, when several of my classmates had their shiny new job offers delayed, then rescinded, just months before graduation. (And history repeats itself.) My initial reaction was to ask the partner, as calmly as I could, whether I still had a job. He assured me that I did, and that "January 2" really did mean "January 2," not "never." I'm not entirely naive, however, so I fretted for a good several days about what I would do if "January 2" ultimately meant "never."
My prospects looked grim. I am registered for the CA bar, but I live in MA, so finding a new job in CA, now, would be nearly impossible. Plus, my T&E professor's opinion notwithstanding, my GPA is not the most alluring. Then there's the Captain, who himself is trying to navigate a cross-country job hunt. Was it up to him now to find a job that would support the both of us? In SoCal?
Apparently, he didn't think so. (Don't worry, we didn't break up.) He suggested that he should extend his job hunt beyond our agreed-upon region (CA, OR, WA, AZ, maybe CO) because I wasn't starting until January, anyway. Maybe we'd end up spending some time apart, but at least he'd have a job and another year's worth of experience. I fretted some more. But fast forward through more fretting, then some running, and finally some rejoicing as I attained enlightenment along banks of the Charles.
The Captain was right. He did need to extend his job hunt, but to a place where I still could use my admission to the California bar: Washington, D.C. I practically flew from my house to his as I told him my Fabulous Plan B: he follows up on a lead he has in the District (and ultimately lands the job), while I poke around at a bakery for a few months so I can send out feelers for permanent jobs later on. He'd get to coach, and I'd get to bake. Plus, I'd get to run the marathon that I didn't get to run before. He loved the Fabulous Plan. I loved the Fabulous Plan.
So we're Fabulous Planning it up. He's working his connections, and I'm working my running mileage. Do I expect to get another first-year associate job, should it come to that? No. But there are many ways to skin a JD, and Washington is just about the best place to show me. Should my firm come calling to let me know that January 2 still means January 2, I'll go. But if January 2 means never, well, that's fine, too.
Naturally, I had a cow.
The last time I had heard about "deferrals" was in 2001, my senior year of college, when several of my classmates had their shiny new job offers delayed, then rescinded, just months before graduation. (And history repeats itself.) My initial reaction was to ask the partner, as calmly as I could, whether I still had a job. He assured me that I did, and that "January 2" really did mean "January 2," not "never." I'm not entirely naive, however, so I fretted for a good several days about what I would do if "January 2" ultimately meant "never."
My prospects looked grim. I am registered for the CA bar, but I live in MA, so finding a new job in CA, now, would be nearly impossible. Plus, my T&E professor's opinion notwithstanding, my GPA is not the most alluring. Then there's the Captain, who himself is trying to navigate a cross-country job hunt. Was it up to him now to find a job that would support the both of us? In SoCal?
Apparently, he didn't think so. (Don't worry, we didn't break up.) He suggested that he should extend his job hunt beyond our agreed-upon region (CA, OR, WA, AZ, maybe CO) because I wasn't starting until January, anyway. Maybe we'd end up spending some time apart, but at least he'd have a job and another year's worth of experience. I fretted some more. But fast forward through more fretting, then some running, and finally some rejoicing as I attained enlightenment along banks of the Charles.
The Captain was right. He did need to extend his job hunt, but to a place where I still could use my admission to the California bar: Washington, D.C. I practically flew from my house to his as I told him my Fabulous Plan B: he follows up on a lead he has in the District (and ultimately lands the job), while I poke around at a bakery for a few months so I can send out feelers for permanent jobs later on. He'd get to coach, and I'd get to bake. Plus, I'd get to run the marathon that I didn't get to run before. He loved the Fabulous Plan. I loved the Fabulous Plan.
So we're Fabulous Planning it up. He's working his connections, and I'm working my running mileage. Do I expect to get another first-year associate job, should it come to that? No. But there are many ways to skin a JD, and Washington is just about the best place to show me. Should my firm come calling to let me know that January 2 still means January 2, I'll go. But if January 2 means never, well, that's fine, too.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Smarter than I look
I really ought to trust myself to have taken good notes. Too often I will read something confusing in the textbook, then waste half an hour trying to figure out what the dickens is different about, say, an attestation clause and a self-proving affidavit. Eventually I'll give up, frustrated, and move along to something else, where I discover that all along I've had the difference clearly stated in my notes.
Gr.
Gr.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Even more writing tips
To lighten the mood...
"disgraced former governor of New York"
not
"Mr. Spitzer."
The former takes up so much more space on the page it's scandalous. Ha!
"disgraced former governor of New York"
not
"Mr. Spitzer."
The former takes up so much more space on the page it's scandalous. Ha!
Help my unbelief
I am a woman of faith. Except for a few years during my childhood, I did grow up in the church and I cherish the faith community that brought me up. In every town where I have lived, even when I've stayed only for three months, I've actively sought a church home where I can lay down roots and volunteer for usher duty. My closest friends from high school are not my friends from my actual school but my friends from my church. My closest friend from my years in New York is not from graduate school, but from my church in Manhattan. In both places, I valued the shared experience of a faith journey more than that of a shared curriculum.
What makes law school different, however, is that I have not found a church home in Boston. In my three years in this heavily Catholic town, I have not found a suitable home in which to place my Bible. I have stopped looking, so I do not attend worship regularly. The irony of all this is that I attend a Catholic law school. Despite my immersion in a(n ostensible) community of faith, I remain unmoored.
I've started thinking more about faith lately for several reasons. First, I wonder what my Catholic boyfriend and I will do should we decide to get married and raise children. Having only attended Catholic schools his entire life, he's pretty Catholic. Second, I wince at my mother's singular devotion to her own Catholicism in the face of her own personal hardship.[FN1] She attends church almost daily and prays not for strength but for a particular outcome. Third, I am confronting my own period of need.
My initial reaction is to hunker down and pray, not for a particular outcome but for strength, for clarity, and for patience. Thing is, though, is I feel my reaction is no different from my mother's, and I always have viewed her theory of faith as hollow and simplistic. Prayer is not for achieving results but for being okay with those results. Hence my habitual prayer when I tanked on my 1L exams first semester. And second.
But now I don't feel so comfortable turning to prayer. I feel needy and greedy, that I turn to God only when I want something. Truth is, I do.
-----
FN1. That's right - my mother's Catholic, but I am not.
What makes law school different, however, is that I have not found a church home in Boston. In my three years in this heavily Catholic town, I have not found a suitable home in which to place my Bible. I have stopped looking, so I do not attend worship regularly. The irony of all this is that I attend a Catholic law school. Despite my immersion in a(n ostensible) community of faith, I remain unmoored.
I've started thinking more about faith lately for several reasons. First, I wonder what my Catholic boyfriend and I will do should we decide to get married and raise children. Having only attended Catholic schools his entire life, he's pretty Catholic. Second, I wince at my mother's singular devotion to her own Catholicism in the face of her own personal hardship.[FN1] She attends church almost daily and prays not for strength but for a particular outcome. Third, I am confronting my own period of need.
My initial reaction is to hunker down and pray, not for a particular outcome but for strength, for clarity, and for patience. Thing is, though, is I feel my reaction is no different from my mother's, and I always have viewed her theory of faith as hollow and simplistic. Prayer is not for achieving results but for being okay with those results. Hence my habitual prayer when I tanked on my 1L exams first semester. And second.
But now I don't feel so comfortable turning to prayer. I feel needy and greedy, that I turn to God only when I want something. Truth is, I do.
-----
FN1. That's right - my mother's Catholic, but I am not.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Wannabe hipster
Yesterday, one of the top ten most-emailed articles at nytimes.com was this paean to a fixture of my youth. How delighted I was to see a feature about my beloved hometown, printed in one of the world's largest newspapers, for no other reason than to highlight something great about a small town.
The Record Exchange, as it is known locally, was a mandatory destination whenever I happened to be strolling downtown with my best friend, and that happened a lot. (Usually after coffee here. [FN1]) We loved the Record Exchange, not only because we could find fantastic music on the cheap, but because it just felt so. cool. to be there. Always, always we ran into friends doing the exact same thing as we: browsing the stacks but really hoping to be noticed and considered in-the-know.
Whenever I've brought the Captain back to Princeton I've tried showing him the Record Exchange, but we're always just a few minutes late. The article noted that locally owned music stores - that sell actual records! - are on a precipitous wane. My sincere hope is that the next time I head into Princeton, after who knows how long in San Diego, I won't find the store closed for good.
--------
FN1. Yes, I've only just discovered how to make links in my posts. And I think it's awesome.
The Record Exchange, as it is known locally, was a mandatory destination whenever I happened to be strolling downtown with my best friend, and that happened a lot. (Usually after coffee here. [FN1]) We loved the Record Exchange, not only because we could find fantastic music on the cheap, but because it just felt so. cool. to be there. Always, always we ran into friends doing the exact same thing as we: browsing the stacks but really hoping to be noticed and considered in-the-know.
Whenever I've brought the Captain back to Princeton I've tried showing him the Record Exchange, but we're always just a few minutes late. The article noted that locally owned music stores - that sell actual records! - are on a precipitous wane. My sincere hope is that the next time I head into Princeton, after who knows how long in San Diego, I won't find the store closed for good.
--------
FN1. Yes, I've only just discovered how to make links in my posts. And I think it's awesome.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Ever the optimist
Last night I had a dream where I had to say good-bye to my friends from law school and it was not a happy dream. I took the dream as a sign that I need to change my attitude (see below). In honor of that effort, here is a list:
Things I will Miss about Law School in Boston (with Things to which I Look Forward about my Law Firm in San Diego to follow)
Dunkin' Donuts. There are no Dunkin' Donuts in San Diego.
The Red Sox. More specifically, the cultural currency of being a Red Sox fan. San Diego has cable television and sports bars, but it's not a city devoted to my team; San Diegans don't talk and breathe the Sox like Bostonians do.
The Marathon. Boston and running's biggest day.
Living near Jenski. My roommate from college. Though if she moves to SD for her post-doc, like I said she should, then I can move this item to the "Things I will look forward to" list.
(hm, these are all things I will miss about Boston, not law school...let me try again)
Friends. I have friends at the firm, of course, but I mean my law school friends in particular.
Lexis and Westlaw rewards. Last night the Captain and I dined at the Capital Grille courtesy of Lexis.
Bar review. I don't go often, but it's where I met the Captain.
Going to the gym in the middle of the day.
Daytime television.
Free lunch.
The freedom to be absolutely silly because I'm not yet a member of the bar. Somehow I don't think my managing partner will look favorably upon my affinity for celebrity gossip.
Indulging crazy ideas. Like the idea I'm entertaining for a paper I'm about to write. Speaking of which, I should probably go entertain it some more.
More optimism to follow.
Things I will Miss about Law School in Boston (with Things to which I Look Forward about my Law Firm in San Diego to follow)
Dunkin' Donuts. There are no Dunkin' Donuts in San Diego.
The Red Sox. More specifically, the cultural currency of being a Red Sox fan. San Diego has cable television and sports bars, but it's not a city devoted to my team; San Diegans don't talk and breathe the Sox like Bostonians do.
The Marathon. Boston and running's biggest day.
Living near Jenski. My roommate from college. Though if she moves to SD for her post-doc, like I said she should, then I can move this item to the "Things I will look forward to" list.
(hm, these are all things I will miss about Boston, not law school...let me try again)
Friends. I have friends at the firm, of course, but I mean my law school friends in particular.
Lexis and Westlaw rewards. Last night the Captain and I dined at the Capital Grille courtesy of Lexis.
Bar review. I don't go often, but it's where I met the Captain.
Going to the gym in the middle of the day.
Daytime television.
Free lunch.
The freedom to be absolutely silly because I'm not yet a member of the bar. Somehow I don't think my managing partner will look favorably upon my affinity for celebrity gossip.
Indulging crazy ideas. Like the idea I'm entertaining for a paper I'm about to write. Speaking of which, I should probably go entertain it some more.
More optimism to follow.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Renewed
I stand corrected. Law school can be creative. I know this because Ms. J sent me a most humorous email in response to my question about trusts and estates.
Assuredly.
Assuredly.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Inspired
I am not inspired. Law school, despite its intellectual rigor, does not inspire me. Perhaps it's true that inspiration is not the point, but somewhere along the way I lost my passion. Passion that pushed me to build a house, quite literally, out of nothing. Passion that moved me to learn for the pleasure of learning, and nothing more.
I've been thinking about passion lately because I discovered some old friends who have themselves embarked on pilgrimages of passion. Thanks to facebook and Myspace, I now count a soul singer, a folk singer, a hip-hop artist, a jazz violinist, a classical violinist, and a children's choir director among my childhood friends. Their works are earnest and sophisticated; their talent is pure. We all were musicians when we were kids - but somehow I let my ache for beauty become an ache for... nothing.
Somewhere along the line I folded. To my credit, my surrender was not completely because of creature comforts - I just wasn't that good a violinist. My bleakness, then, must be a result of envy, too. I envy these artists and their talents, I envy their courage and creativity.
This issue is of particular relevance because my better half also has found that law school has not inspired him. He's had success in law school, but the exercise has grown hollow. He is lucky enough to have something that does inspire him, however, and I delight in his delight.
I've been thinking about passion lately because I discovered some old friends who have themselves embarked on pilgrimages of passion. Thanks to facebook and Myspace, I now count a soul singer, a folk singer, a hip-hop artist, a jazz violinist, a classical violinist, and a children's choir director among my childhood friends. Their works are earnest and sophisticated; their talent is pure. We all were musicians when we were kids - but somehow I let my ache for beauty become an ache for... nothing.
Somewhere along the line I folded. To my credit, my surrender was not completely because of creature comforts - I just wasn't that good a violinist. My bleakness, then, must be a result of envy, too. I envy these artists and their talents, I envy their courage and creativity.
This issue is of particular relevance because my better half also has found that law school has not inspired him. He's had success in law school, but the exercise has grown hollow. He is lucky enough to have something that does inspire him, however, and I delight in his delight.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Apple lust
Today I touched a MacBook Air. I held it in my hands. I lifted it up and down and I delighted in its unbearable lightness. I half-expected Yael Naim to start singing in the backgrouund as I ran my finger across its satin mousepad. La la la la la la …
I do not usually lust after material things, and the Captain will attest to that. But this, this was different.
It was sublime.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Mortified
Earlier this week I went to office hours. In addition to my usual class confusion ("So...this basic rule we covered months ago..."), I also had some questions about the long-term. Namely, I wanted to know how mobile I would be if I entered a particular practice area, because I'm not entirely sure I want a lifetime in San Diego. (Don't hate.)
She gave me the usual spiel, how when I hit my third year as an associate I'll be tremendously marketable, but then she suggested applying to LLM programs in parts of the country where I would want to spend a lifetime.
I almost left the room.
Thing is, I've already done my time: two years' MPA, three years' JD. Do I really need to add three more letters? I didn't voice these objections to her, but I did offer another: I didn't think my grades would be appealing to any school worth going to. She countered, "What do you have, a 2.2?" I gratefully shook my head, but she wanted my actual number. She then proceeded to shout, "'[Number]?! What's so bad about a [number]?"
(Uh, lots of things are wrong with [number]. Especially if you keep shouting it down the hall like that.)
Still, it was nice to have her vote of confidence.
She gave me the usual spiel, how when I hit my third year as an associate I'll be tremendously marketable, but then she suggested applying to LLM programs in parts of the country where I would want to spend a lifetime.
I almost left the room.
Thing is, I've already done my time: two years' MPA, three years' JD. Do I really need to add three more letters? I didn't voice these objections to her, but I did offer another: I didn't think my grades would be appealing to any school worth going to. She countered, "What do you have, a 2.2?" I gratefully shook my head, but she wanted my actual number. She then proceeded to shout, "'[Number]?! What's so bad about a [number]?"
(Uh, lots of things are wrong with [number]. Especially if you keep shouting it down the hall like that.)
Still, it was nice to have her vote of confidence.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Reader #3
The last several days have been full of surprises! Today I discovered not two, but three, people read this blog.
Hello, Elite Racer! And thanks!
Hello, Elite Racer! And thanks!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Surprise
I recently started studying for my exams (don't judge). Today I found an old file for one of my classes; the file was called "Working Outline." Expecting to find two or three pages of nothing, I opened the file to discover instead a detailed, color-coded document covering the first several weeks of the course.
News to me, too.
News to me, too.
Bag lady
It's that time of the semester again: the time when I'm so worried about all the work that needs to get done that I can't decide which books to take when.
So I walk around with all of them in a collection of large bookbags. It's hot.
So I walk around with all of them in a collection of large bookbags. It's hot.
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