21st Grade

So by all accounts, many detailed right here, 2010 has been kicking my ass. Ok, thanks, that's enough... unfortunately there are 4+ more months of 2010.
I had a thought last night, though, what if it's not "2010" but academic year 2009-2010? We moved to Arizona a year ago, at the end of our academic-year based lease and Charlie started working right around now. I got hired and started my job at the end of August. We were all polished up and ready for 20th grade. And the beginning of the fall was ok. Then my grandma died. Then I started studying for the Arizona bar. Then I started being abused at work. Then I was still studying for the Arizona bar. Then I took it. Then I started studying for the Navajo bar. Then I took it. Then there was about 3 weeks of breathing room. Then I learned I passed both bars. Then Navajo wouldn't let me swear in because Arizona was slow with my character and fitness. Then I got offered a lawyer job. Then my dad got arrested in Rwanda. Then they gave the job to someone else because Arizona was slow with my character and fitness. Then a couple more weeks of total bizarre terribleness getting my dad out of Rwanda. Then my work hired someone who just sat for the AZ bar over me (and everyone else) who was already licensed. There was probably more and that about brings us up to now. And, of course, all of this happened with my one real friend in Arizona/joint tenant with right of survivorship living away from home 3 nights/week.
Of course there were good things over the past year, too. I did get a job when I moved to AZ. The schedule of living apart half time was not nearly as bad as I feared it would be. The fall was full of hikes and exploring this new place. We bought a house. We got a new wonderful pup. I went to 4 beautiful and terribly fun weddings and got to share the fun with all kinds of people I love from all over the place. I passed two bars! I'm licensed in Arizona! We're getting new windows!
But, all in all, this past 12 months has been really, really tough. I've spent a lot of time alone and more energy than I have ever had to or should have to trying to maintain my sense of self and self-confidence through blow after blow.
However. Here we are, starting 21st grade. Charlie will live here full-time in his new job starting Monday. Maybe I'll need to get new clothes, not for school but for court. I'll spend the fall getting to know new friends and learning a new system, like the old days. I like this academic year idea because after this many years of schooling, there is something that feels new about the beginning of fall. A more natural start-over than the middle of winter, post-holiday noisemaking. I also like the idea, frankly, because it means that this year of ass-kicking is over. I don't have to wait until December, new beginnings start now. God, I hope I'm on to something because I'll tell you, if real school had been as hard for me as this past year in U of Hard Knocks, I definitely would have dropped out long ago. And then I'd have so many fewer things to hang framed on the wall of my office!

House Woes

You know how homeowners are always like, "oh! groan! owning is a house is such a pain and so expensive!" And how potential homebuyers are like "renting is such a waste of money! how bad could it be?" I am transitioning from the latter to the former, quite quickly with the below-pictured jacking up of the kitchen/bedroom area of the house to replace all the rotted wood underneath in the addition that the former owners seem to have completed themselves. "I hope you guys got a good deal on this place," says handyman Jim. Jim, I am less and less convinced of that with every $1,000 we pay you....

Bon Courage*

So they're in the appeal hearing, deciding whether to grant my dad bail, again. I can't believe this has gone on for so long. I can't believe all of this... hasn't worked. For the first ten days or so I wasn't really eating and only kind of sleeping. I didn't get hungry, I didn't get tired. I've never responded to stress that way.
I went back to work last Tuesday, but I'll likely have to take off the end of this week, again. It shouldn't really matter, I'm not "there" when I'm there. Most people don't seem to "get" it, "how's your dad?!?!" Um, in prison in Rwanda, being brought food once a day from the embassy so he is not poisoned, held for doing his job as an attorney.... thanks for asking?
I bought a fax machine because I started needing to send things to international faxes and realized the last thing I need now is to lose my job because I was using county resources to send international, political faxes. I mean, I am actually currently applying for another job with them... it would be bad. But it's strange how little I feel. I got a call that the job that was offered to me was given to someone else. I don't care. I tell media without sufficient emotion in my voice that I am terrified for my dad's safety. And it's true, I am just so tired. Tired of being terrified for two and a half weeks. So now I only cry when I have to write letters to strangers about my feelings, which happens more often than you'd think, or when I think too hard about the prison.
There have been some amazing people who have come out of the woodwork, friends of my dad's from elementary school, former clients, my old friends. I feel let down by every institution. Barack, didn't we say yes we can? Bill, I didn't care about Monica. I defended you against my dad's criticisms, for crying out loud, both of you! I supported you, now I'm s.o.l.?
And I continue to just really miss my dad. There was/is a bat in our house. It's disgusting, we keep thinking it is gone and then 2 days later it reappears. You know who would know what to do? My dad. The worst part of this whole thing is that the one person who would know how to get my dad out... is my dad.
One thing I have learned through this, guessing what he wants and not being able to speak to him, is that I know him very well. "I told you so" is unkind and counterproductive in dealing with the family, but... I'm usually right. I know what he will do, I know what he will say, I know what his coded messages sent out of jail mean. I am my father's daughter- not in all ways- but the same closeness that causes me so much personal pain now is what gives me that insight. Like everything, a blessing and a curse. And now back to waiting for the bail ruling...

*In this new life, I talk to many french speakers and international lawyers. There is something somehow better about bon courage. It makes me feel tougher than "good luck." I guess because courage sounds involved.

Dad in Rwanda

I am pretty sure there is no one who reads this who wouldn't already know, but my dad was arrested in Rwanda yesterday morning. He was there, as an attorney, representing the opposition presidential candidate in her own criminal case. There are some stories about it here and here and here and here.
It's been truly exhausting, so far two days of near-constant phone calls, emails and calling/faxing the government when not otherwise occupied. If you want to know what you can do, that's really it. Call the State Department, call your Congressional Delegation and call the White House, ask for them to demand he be released immediately. This is a list of phone numbers, This is a press release a group I am working with generated today and This is the Hotel Rwanda Rusesabagina Foundation Press Release.
Anyway, I wrote my dad a letter today, trying to work on some of the feelings that I haven't really been feeling because I've been running constantly. I'll put it here because this remains my space, for doing things like writing weepy letters. I'll give it to him when he comes home. Right after a great big hug and possibly a proverbial punch in the nose (possibly also literal punch in the nose.)

Dear Dad,

It’s late afternoon on Saturday here in Arizona. I’ve spent the last two days emailing, faxing, calling and answering calls from what feels like everyone in the world. I’ve talked to your colleagues from all kinds of work you’ve done. Work in Africa, Minnesota, Amsterdam… really everywhere. We had two conference calls yesterday and it was so heartwarming to hear the voices of these friends you’ve made all over the place. This has become the hardest part for me, personally, so much of this action and organizing, you would love to see. I keep wanting to tell you about something that happened, some amazing connection people have made and demonstration of the power of all of these people working together. You would love to see it.

There has been an unbelievable outpouring—people from all parts of both of our lives have come out of the woodwork and showed their support. All of the parts of our family, the National Lawyers Guild, the Law School, long-lost friends and colleagues. When your brother spoke to the State Department yesterday, the woman said, “It seems like you all were ready for this to happen.” He said he just laughed and said, “No, we’re all just really motivated and stubborn as hell.” You would be so proud.

I’ve realized some things over the past two days. One is that we have taken far too few pictures together recently. I saw that when I had to send one to a Minneapolis TV station. We need to fix that when you get back. I’ve also realized how much your work means to the people who benefit from it. I’ve received dozens of facebook messages and emails from Rwandans thanking me for your work, for standing up for them and for now bringing light to their situation. They love you. I can’t tell them how I really feel in my heart of hearts, though, that selfishly I hope when you get out, you’ll open up a solo practice doing Wills or something. That when I stop moving, as I only have a couple of times since we got news of your arrest yesterday morning, I am so, so paralyzingly and blindingly scared and my heart is so heavy. I know that theirs are too and that you have been someone to lighten theirs… but I want you to be here to make me feel better. Because you’re my dad and that’s what you’ve always done. I stop and I am so angry at you for putting yourself in this situation, I want you to come back so I can scream and yell at you about how angry and scared you’ve made me.

Someone else told me to remember a righteous wind is at our backs. And I know this. From all the messages and all the support, I have been reminded of how proud I am of you and your work. All joking aside about the fact that I’ve become an attorney, too, so much of the person and lawyer I have become is due to the person and kind of lawyer you are. I’ve learned to work like hell from you and I’ve learned that all people deserve respect from you. I’ve thought about some of the things you’ve told me over (and over and over!) all my life—to figure out who you want to benefit from you work and the rest comes easily. That a society is best judged by how they treat their weakest members. Not to believe everything you read. That history is written by the victors. I would like to remind you now about the MLK quote, the arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice. I miss you terribly, I love you so much and I look forward to writing this history with you, as victors, on the side of justice.

Love,

Sarah

The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

I guess "the teacher becomes the student" is a little more apt. But whatever. I wrote this last week, then got distracted by a camping trip in the Porkies. More on that later.

Two Fridays ago, I got a call from my dad. He was in San Francisco and tells me he is in the hospital, needs an emergency appendectomy but refuses to go under the knife without a will or an advanced directive. After the initial shock of "I'm in the hospital," I was totally annoyed and outraged. I more or less contained it through the day's successful surgery, his couple more days hospitalized with a nagging fever and even through the delicious beet & chevre salad and mussels I had for lunch with him yesterday. I was about to get in the car to head back to Madison, when I kind of let him have it.

It's really dumb for him not to have a will. And he knows that. I was almost more irritated about the advanced directive because while not planning for the division of his stuff will create a headache for us, not expressing his desires for his health care is more troubling to me. And I threw in little things like that I give him the benefit of the doubt and don't think his not doing these things are a result of not caring about his health or his loved ones... but it can look like that. He hasn't thankfully had anything that turned out to be major, but he does have a tumor inside his skull, had a melanoma removed from his back and may need a heart valve replaced. So, like, we're all going to die, but there have been a couple reminders recently that he may sooner than... well.... enough reminders that it's dumb not to plan for the inevitable.

Anyway, I was also a little mad at myself because I had kind of assumed he made these plans and hadn't. So, now I know to nag him until he does (or the will in his chart at whatever SF hospital will remain in effect...) and I suggest you do the same with your delinquent parents in denial.

Thinking about the Wesleyan shooting, bad things and a career in criminal defense (once someone will let me have one!!)

I also first thought there has to be something else- what is that something else?  And usually that something is untreated mental illness. Because, well, most simply, mentally healthy people don't do things like this. It has still not failed to astound me,  the strange catch-22 of violent criminal behavior... 

I think that reaction and question is good, though, too, because at least for me its an inability/unwillingness to believe in people being just pure evil. I prefer to live in a world where people do terrible things because they're sick or addicted or horribly abused by people who are sick or addicted, than one where they are just evil.** 

More than once more cynical classmates have implied this makes me naive.  That's (insulting and) just not true. Perhaps if something being "god's plan" makes you feel better, you'll also feel better just knowing someone is evil. But neither works for me.  It's too easy and sadistic to just want to punish people because they are "bad." It is much harder to look at people individually and try to see how they are the way they are.  It's harder because sometimes identifying the discrete ways someone who has broken the social code is different than you is a frightening examination of yourself. And, just to answer the cynics, none of this makes it ok.  It is completely possible to both want and work for the best outcome for the person while being truly disgusted by what they did. I sent a letter to an inmate today who had a on-going relationship with a 12 year old and wanted to reduce his sentence because she had her period on one of the dates of the sexual assaults he was convicted of.  So, um, believe me, it's very possible to be completely disgusted as a person and still give some darn good advice.  

Little of this has to do with the events of the past day + now.  But, so be it.

** I am not convinced taking advantage of a position of power isn't evil... there are some members of the last administration I'd be willing to concede on.  

NYR, Update

Yesterday was the 5mi New Years Resolution run. I didn't do it. It was raining cats and dogs all morning. We left the house to go pick up the materials, got caught in a downpour and reasoned time and energy might be better spent studying. Plus, I mean, after all, this was supposed to be fun and running in the cold and rain... well, that's not fun. I also probably wasn't going to make it, since I got derailed and never quite made it back on track before this finals season when I am totally derailed. So, the goal will remain, I'll just work on it over the summer and accomplish it on my own, without thousands of my closest friends.

Good Idea/Bad Idea

Welcome to the latest installment of Good Idea/Bad Idea. Let's get started:

GOOD IDEA:

Being done with finals and leaving for the Dominican Republic. Yes, thank you, I thought it was a good idea, too.

BAD IDEA:

Bettern Peanut Butter. See it here. The consistency is weird and sticky and it is too sweet. And tastes only vaguely like peanuts. Yes, it is a good diet food... because it's gross and you won't eat it but will feel guilty about buying more real peanut butter as long as you have it. We finally overcame this by deciding the best thing to do would be to mix the fake-o peanut butter with real peanut butter. I'll review that later on.

GOOD IDEA:
Getting beautiful regular manis (and less regular pedis.) I just love looking at them and not gnawing on them because they are painted. Friend Danielle provided a good idea that you buy the color you want, have them paint you with that and then you can do touch-ups on your own at home. An even better idea is what I did, use the nail polish she bought for this purpose.

Look how beautiful I look!

BAD IDEA:

"Body Pump" class and "Body Attack" class back to back over two days. Ouch.

Another BAD IDEA:

Letting me out of the house? At Target the other day I bought a 5-piece luggage set. Long story short is that an extra 4 pieces were like $10 more than just the suitcase I came for. So consumerism won, I was super American and bought it, whatever. At check out, the checker says she has to check through the "pieces" trying to make it sound like it was to be sure they were all there, but more importantly probably making sure I wasn't stealing anything in the 5 pieces. So she starts going through the suitcases, which are nested inside one another, and I say:

"If this were Law and Order, I'd be stealing a baby out of the store in those."

Yeah, um, it seems she was not the L & O fan I am. What a weird thing to say to a stranger, Sarah. Jeesus.

GOOD IDEA and BAD IDEA:

Bar Bingo. Or "drinking like you're still in college."



Bad idea for the way I feel (probably contributing to the pump/attack full body pain.) Good idea because I came in 3rd... I mean, if you're going to play, you might as well win, right?


Ok, time to get back to a little packing, a little paper-writing and a little getting ready for the trivia playoffs tonight. My next dispatch may be from the DR... or you, my adoring public (of three?), will have to wait with bated breath until after x-mas.

Happy Holidays but mostly Happy Chanukah.

Consumer Update

Every so often I like to update you, my loyal readers, on things that I've bought and how they are working out.

1. Gillette Alluring Avocado Shave Gel. If you, like me, think that this will smell like Avocado instead of super-sweet melony crap like every other women's shave gel... well, then you, like me, would be just plain wrong.

2. The iPhone. I bought it about a month ago. I love it so much, it's like my new best friend. You know, like the kind of best friend you pay a lot of money for and then are very worried about getting wet. We play games together, it reminds me to do things and can answer any question in pinch. A true pal.

3. Kemp's 100 Calorie Ice Cream Bars. I can't find a link to them. They are delicious and tiny. And have 7 grams of fat in each tiny little one. I feel a little duped. Quantity over quality, people.

4. Haircut. Got this one today, it was desperately needed. I don't think it's a Madison-is-cheap thing, I think this place is stuck in the 90s or something. It's an Aveda salon, they rub my head with oils and do a good job cutting my hair... for $35. I kind of realized lately I've been letting myself go... ratty hair, ill-fitting jeans, oftentimes some kind of stain on my shirt. Time to get it together, sister.

5. Ticket to Nashville in April for "the house" plus Erin. Will be awesome. Want to stay at the Gaylord Opryland. Also want to wear cowgirl boots and will need tight jeans by the trip.

6. Airfare change from American so I won't spend xmas eve eve in Miami on the way back from the DR... it was $147 to fix my stupidity in scheduling. I have been stupid in much more expensive ways.

"I'm Still Hoping for a New Day Every 24 Hours"

That's a quote from one of the Restorative Justice class participants I saw graduate from the program on Monday at Columbia Correctional Institution. There was a lot that was really cool about it-- not only did the official diploma holders and speeches and so on mean a lot to a bunch of guys in maximum security prison, many of who have never successfully completed anything in their lives... but it was also cool that the reverend who runs the program brought all of these parishioners from his church to watch. Most of them had never been in a prison before, and now their experience was moving, uplifting, eloquent and replete with cake! MLKJ was quoted no fewer than 7 times and a really lovely allegory (it's all over the internet, like here) was told in the graduation speeches.

I hate prison. I hate the idea of it and I hate what it does to people. Going to prison is exhausting, even for me, just for the day. I find myself thinking about people who are in prison while I am going about doing other things... they are just still right there. It's interesting and depressing to see the different stages of acceptance and growth inmates have. I am not sure what I would do. At lunch on Monday, one of the social workers from the prison told us going to prison is her worst nightmare. She claimed she would kill herself before going to prison. I have been doing this small job since last spring, responding to inmate research requests from the federal supermax. Read about what it's like to be there. Twenty three hours a days in a cell alone. One hour of exercise. No contact with other people. I can't even imagine. I've responded to letters and had regular correspondence with some pretty illustrious guys over there... famous in the world of crime and "terror." This semester since now I am on a flatrate instead of an hourly payscale, I have found myself getting annoyed with some of the requests... I got one the other day, though, that jarred me out of being annoyed. I had provided this guy some divorce materials for Colorado, forms he could fill out and file himself. He wrote back, thanking me profusely and asking for a couple of other things. He included a copy of a form letter from the Colorado Bar... he had asked for referrals and they gave him an sheet of websites and phone numbers. Well, he mentioned, he doesn't have access to the internet. Or a phone. So could I just go to the website and tell him if there is a mailing address and what it is. "We are only allowed to send letters." Today I sent four letters to four different guys who, according to an old New York Times article were convicted together, two are cousins... I wondered if they even knew the others were there also? Did they all find me separately? How would they tell each other to write to me?

Anyway... most prisons are nothing like that. I am continually impressed by the brotherhood among inmates and how many help one another out. So I saw that on Monday, as well. Even though I missed out on the cake.

Bad Sarah, for reals.

So Sarah Palin is totally crazy. But I guess the real question is, crazy like a fox? (or a caribou, in her case?)

"I believe Alaska is one of the refuge states in the last days, and hundreds of thousands of people are going to come to the state to seek refuge and the church has to be ready to minister to them."

Um, hundred of thousands of people don't even believe Alaska exists. Increasingly, I may be one of them. All of this crazy-ass Sarah Palin stuff has given me some good tips, though. When arguing my point, be sure to mention that's what God wants. She says God wants off-shore drilling. Well, I say God also wants to you find my crack possession client not guilty. God also wants me to have an iPod touch and go on some kind of tropical vacation later this year. Um, and professors, yeah, since it's my last year and all, God would prefer you give me straight As and require no effort on my part. I mean, it's for God and all. Wow, this is awesome. I can see why she's so qualified to be John McCain irregular heartbeat away from leader of superawesome America.

Addendum: Found this-- while Palin was mayor of Wasilla, the town was billing sexual assault victim's insurance for their evidence-collecting exams. WTF?

Two Things About This Article...

1. "I was vetted by John McCain" sounds dirty. Like there is a lawsuit in the works....

2. Sarah Palin is like Paul Wellstone how exactly? No, gross. Find a new analogy, please...

Oh, this is the article I'm talking about.

Press

This has been a great series of articles about some of the issues the office runs up against.

Take your pick:

Stings Targeting the Homeless

Silly Pot Busts

Crime Against Nature

Strange Day

Some time in jail, a hostile client, one with the most amazing name which for confidentiality sake I can't divulge... and one of the other law clerks here died this morning. Which makes for a strange feeling day. I am going to sleep a lot tonight.

Scary Morning

I woke up this morning at about 8 to a huge thunder and lightning storm. So this is unusual for the morning, most anywhere, right? I had had big plans for the morning, since I have to go in to do first appearances this afternoon. I wanted to go grocery shopping and various other errands. So the storm went on until about 10:30 and finally stopped. I got dressed and hit the road. Things were wet and saturated, but I headed west to the next parish over for some big box shopping. Once I got over to this shopping area, the water started to get deeper and deeper. There were tons of cars and people pulled into the center divider. I didn't have my cell phone or know exactly where I was. Everything was going very slowly and eventually the water was about halfway up the door of the truck. It seemed to be getting deeper as I went, the lanes going the other way were obviously deeper than where I was... but I least I knew it got better going that way. So I turned around and spent 5-10 minutes terrified the truck would eventually just quit. I could hear water coming in somewhere.... fuck fuck fuck fuck. I could see the road going up over an overpass, so I just kept going, whimpering "c'mon, c'mon, c'mon...."

The story ends with me going to a grocery store closer to home, noticing that the bed of the truck had, in fact, gotten wet... and while I know flooding has been serious up north, too... learning an important lesson about not fucking with water here in New Orleans. You can read about it here.

Update

The blisters have receded. Apparently, the best antidote to 3rd degree alcohol/birthday related burns are non-stop eating, drinking and good friends. And non-stop shitty NYC rain seems to help, too. Probably the mani/pedi didn't hurt. Even if the mani/pedi central american woman thought I had genital warts on my hand.

I just had my second birthday party, it was fun. Vacation in Brooklyn is also fun. It was fun to see a wide assortment of people and remember the community I used to have/remember people will still come out on a Tuesday night to say celebrate (including an uplifting number from the right sidebar.) I am very lucky. And am still not 27!!!

Good Idea/Bad Idea?

Is it a good or bad sign to wake up from your 27th birthday party with hands that look like this:



And what if the blistering were the result of a "flaming dr. pepper" gone awry? It was a very fun party and now I am laundering and packing for the next phase of the bender.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Can you?

Ain't No Nation Like An Alienation.

Or Alien Ant Farm or something. This past weekend we hosted the NLG regional meeting here at UW. Things were hectic in the preparation (especially since the SHN trips season is in full swing) but I am really, really happy with what Paul and I were able to pull off. We had cool panels, we had awesome speakers, we had t-shirts and professional-looking signs and bagels and workshops and dinner reservations. And so kudos to us. But very few people from the law school came. We had a couple undergrads there, some folks from the community and people came in from Chicago and the Twin Cities. But my peers and friends were vastly underrepresented. There were some people who put in lots of time and were great help/support. But out of 700some law students, approximately 8 came. And that's including me, my co-organizer Paul and Charlie. Who may or may not have actually wanted to come, but had to and had to say he wanted to.
And I'll be honest, so few people showing up hurt my feelings. It wasn't shocking by any means, but felt a very dramatic confirmation that I haven't made close friends in law school. In an ideal world I would have friends around me who all cared about the same things I did... but I would be really pleased to have friends around who care about me enough to participate in the things I care about. It's not the hugest deal, and I am trying to not to let the disappointment in people cloud what really was otherwise a very successful event. But I feel a little like last fall when folks were wandering around like zombies, blabbing about their six-figure salaries. Or, even more dramaticly, when G.W. was re-elected... It's not necessarily that I do or don't belong here-- I feel very distant from everyone else.

Jellies are back (again)!

Remember the plastic shoes of youth? And why did we all want them so badly? Now plastic shoes seem like a terrible idea. Boy, moms were right about that one. Here is a little photo essay about three plastic shoes trends, meeting all at the same time at Target, I hope you enjoy it.


"Jellies" popular in both the early to mid 1980s and early 1990s. These particular jellies may have been in Target storage since they were last popular.


"Wellies" are cute on children and annoying on adults. This season's Ugg boots for the UW girl who has it all, they are worn with pants tucked in them and generally should be discussed as though they are necessary event though nobody had them a couple of years ago. Except losers like me who got rubber boots for our jungle trek in Peru way back when and now can't wear them for fear of looking like a loser. Or, more like a loser than I am sure I already do to those ladies.


And finally, the plastic shoes trend that won't die, not matter how unattractive and sweaty the shoes are, the CROCS. There is a river in Yellowstone that feeds boiling hot water into cold water. In the middle of winter folks hike down to it, take off their clothes and sit in the warm water that is created. So far, this is the only acceptable use of CROCS I have encountered. If you have others, I encourage you to submit them... although I kind of doubt they exist. Another interesting fact is that at one point, my sister claimed CROCS were edible. According to the internet, this is not true. Which is too bad, because that would be another acceptable use for them.