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.
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