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!

Tranblemanntè v. Terremoto

I just have one quick thing to say about the recent Chilean earthquake. Well, probably more than one and probably not so quick. First, as I've been reminiscing a lot lately, I spent a really wonderful six months in Santiago. It wasn't wonderful because of the 70s architecture or the esmog (do I miss blowing my nose black every night? Um, not really...) but it was a time of little responsibility, where I came as close I ever have to "speaking" spanish and where I spent some great time with people who remain some of my favorite Americans. Perhaps not the cross-cultural exchange Wesleyan had in mind... but those people are still my good friends. So that counts.
But this has nothing to do with that. Someone retweeted something on Twitter on Monday about how Haiti v. Chile was a good example of "good government".... and it pissed me off. I didn't respond because, well, folks rarely retweet expecting a total diatribe in 140 character intervals. And also... I was busy. But anyway. Shockingly, like everything else in life, this is so much more complicated than that. I can speak to it because I was a Latin American Studies major and half a Latin American Studies master, right? Riiiight...
Chile and Haiti have nothing in common. From vastly distinct colonial histories to vastly distinct modern histories, these countries evolved in opposite directions. Haiti is dirt poor, we know this. We know rebuilding isn't really "re"-anything, it's creating systems and infrastructure for the first time. Chile is usually the most prosperous Latin American country with that 70s style modern architecture in Santiago and with total poverty in the campo. Not, like, Haitian poverty... but poverty. But Chile doesn't want to deal with it's poverty because that's not the Chilean image of itself. Much of Chile's economic success comes from the foundations laid by Pinochet and the neo-cons during his reign, which was also brutally repressive. The country remains divided between those who emerged from the Pinochet-era disgusted by what had happened to their country and a strong 1/3 of the population who believe that certain "excesses" were worth it because the economy did so well. And Chile continues to enjoy overall economic success because of the foundation laid during that period. "Good" government, Pinochet?
Resources alone do not dictate how a government will respond to disaster. Um, Katrina? But they do dictate how well a country can prepare through zoning, building codes and emergency channels. And how well a country can respond through emergency responders and so on. There are legitimate gripes with the way Preval handled things in Haiti. Michele Bachelet seems to have done a better job (because she could) but is also faulted with saying Chile could do it themselves.... resulting in fewer international donations. Text CHILE to 901901? I don't think so...
It's a natural comparison because they're the same kind of disaster happening to countries somewhere south of us. But it's irrelevant. It's like comparing the way France and Somalia respond to disaster. I suppose you could say France would fare better because of "good" government. But it's kind of silly and obviously incomplete. And really just feeds into blaming developing nations for their own underdevelopment without even considering that the developed world got that way at their expense. It's all terribly more complicated, I know. But please, the take home is... be careful what you re-tweet, because it could very well be setting off a firestorm in Flagstaff.

2 weeks from tomorrow, can I keep my hand attached until then?

#5 should say, "violation of knock & announce." That was the best I could do. I mean, after #1's Mirarrararda rights.

That's so Raven

Tiredness and stress, I wish you were to blame. But, alas, I am able to transition the conversation with someone capable of hiring me from my career ambitions to the penalties for offering oral sex in Louisiana all by myself.

That's awkward.

No, wait-- that's so Raven!

Especially if Raven is a super-awkward weirdo.

Haitian Beef

All of these companies that are attaching themselves to Haiti relief are really starting to irritate me. No, Hyatt, I don’t want to donate my rewards points to Haiti. I want you to donate your profits to Haiti and I will donate my points to someplace with hotels for people in stay in! Chase, although it’s our money anyway (as my astute junior cultural anthropology-major hairdresser pointed out), make the donation yourself. “HELP HAITI NOW” on the Avon catalog looks opportunistic and silly to me. And I think lends to fatigue over the whole thing. Haiti doesn't need a signature color of liptick... it needs short and long-term just aid and recovery.

It’s similar to how my work sends around requests for donations of leave. I mean, I get that we’re in a budget crisis and all… but the right thing to do is have more liberal leave policies, not unpaid FMLA time, and let the rest of us keep our vacation days. Or when the airlines want you to donate your frequent flier miles to bring kids with cancer to the hospital or Disney World or whatever. Um, why don’t you use your airlines to do that and not take credit for a program that sounds charitable but really just saves the company money. Or gives them a good name and lets them break even.

Maybe I just want to keep my Hyatt rewards and frequent flier miles and am letting my cynicism get the better of me. Or maybe I'm just mad I don't have a signature shade of lipstick (wait until 200 years after I hold my successful slave rebellion and then am decimated by an earthquake made worse by my long-term underdevelopment caused by global colonial powers, then Scarlet Sarah will be all the rage)… but this is my beef for the day.

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.

Not Needed

Family doesn't seem to understand that "wow, you're in a tough situation" and "don't you feel lonely going to Flagstaff like this" are not good things to talk about. Oh, and how I will get murdered by someone showing me an apartment from Craigslist. I didn't know how easy it would be make me cry by rehashing the imperfect details of my situation. But now we all know it's a good way to get me to forgo homemade blueberry ice cream and head to bed at 9:45 after saying, "I don't know how to change any of these things before my 7am flight tomorrow. There are a lot of un-ideal things about my life right now."

UPDATE: They did give me bison burgers and the idea to use all my excess mint to make iced tea... so it's not all bad. Just, like, I liked the other parental side's strategy of taking us out for dinner to celebrate my first case and telling me things are hard but I have options better. Stupid equally-flawed-in-different-ways parents. Sometimes I wish I spawned from robots. Although robots wouldn't eat bison or mint tea, I guess.

FML

I've mentioned this fellowship job in New Orleans to many of you, many have said "that's perfect for you!" And, well, I learned earlier tonight via the facebook status update of the girl who apparently got it... that I didn't. I know her, we worked together last summer. Oh, technology! Naturally, my first reaction was to deactivate my facebook account. I'm a such a good woman scorned.
To be honest, I feel completely fucking worthless. I've been feeling worse and worse as the summer has gone on, with the sinking feeling punctuated by the fun of leisure and the occasional mini-break (like my first public defender client, who I met today, and the excitement of calling someone and saying, "Hi, I'm your lawyer" should be the subject of this blog post). It felt so good to get that appointment and the little encouragement of being paid to do what I want to do, albeit on a limited scale.
Side Note: Earlier this evening, we went to "Away We Go" and debated ahead of time whether watching a movie about 20/30 somethings trying to find their place in the world was the best or worst idea we could have. Turns out the movie is fabulous, very in line with Dave Eggers writing, it's thoroughly hilarious and enjoyable. It's one of my top movies now, I can't recommend it highly enough.
But back to bemoaning my situation. I feel truly terrible. Like the world lied to me, it told me I had to do A, B and C to get what I wanted, I did those and whoops! the rules have changed. I feel, honestly, like I finally applied myself and worked at full steam toward something (which of course I didn't do for personal payoff... but...) and it doesn't matter at all. All of the reasons I didn't work at full capacity all along, basically a fear of failure, have come true. This sounds dramatic, but I feel a little dramatic. And a little scorned. Like I did my best and have been told over and over it's not good enough. I have not gotten a lot of jobs, more than I can count.
I think one thing I've realized is that while having no obligations and a summer completely free sounds ideal; for those of us with aspirations beyond being the messy common-law housewife I am currently, it feels pretty shitty. And it's time to call a spade a spade and realize I'm unhappy and even depressed. This isn't a forever condition and I do think I'll look back at pictures of my sweet tan and think of all the free time... and think of it with humor and wistfulness. But then maybe I will read this blog post and remember how shitty it really feels to be applying for jobs I'm not even qualified for, because I'm overqualified, outside of my field ("law") and not even getting interviews in a place you've never been before. Is it shittier than not getting interviewed/hired in the place you've lived for 3 years or the place you've made a surrogate home for 3 years? Hard to say... probably the wallowing will be over tomorrow, but no promises.

And another thing

The Tonight Show comes on at like 10:30 in the midwest. Which is something I haven't re-gotten used to. I hear the music and think... "fuck.......!" Although it's kind of like how my alarm clock is set half an hour fast, it's a nice surprise once I realize the real time. Cracking up? Me? Maybe.

Proof the Baby Jesus Loves Me... And is a Socialist.

So the thing about states like Wisconsin (Minnesota USED to be much more this way)... is they love poor people. Ok, no one in America really LOVES poor people. But these socialist-leaning states provide a lot more social services-- health care, housing and so on than do many others. Taxes are higher, yes. But people value libraries and parks and childhood nutrition. The campaign in Minnesota a few years back sums it up perfectly, "Happy to Pay for a Better Minnesota." Raise my taxes, please, and give me schools and park board sports for my kids. Now, lucky for me, taxes are for people who make money.* In Wisconsin there is this homestead credit for renters. You file for this with your state taxes and it's supposed to give some money back to low-income renters. Great, awesome. Even if I didn't qualify, I would love this idea. Well, I do qualify. Heck, I paid $6000 more in rent last year than I earned (thank you, Uncle Sam.) So I file for it... and get $1150 back. Um, whoah. Awesome. This further relieves the stress of paying more or less for two apartments this summer in an unpaid internship AND... well... allowed me today to buy a new bike off craigslist. She is so beautiful. And so fast and fun and who ever knew how crappy my old bike was until she came along. She is this one, although the 2005 model. And bright red. Ooh la la. She also came to me from a woman in Monroe, WI with both a "ten commandments" and a Ron Paul sign in her front yard. An the most incredible added bonus? Upon getting her home, I found this:


Yes, that's right, the metallic baby jesus rides with me. And so I think I am totally converted... Obviously the baby jesus created the Wisconsin Homestead Credit so that I could get a new bike and see how much faster and cooler I could ride with him on my side. My left side, to be precise. So, baby jesus... THANKS!

Diet

Yesterday I ate 3 quesadillas, almost an entire butternut squash and 2 liters plus 2 cans of Diet Coke. I also tried to tweeze something off my face that turned out to be a mole. And this is all why I have stayed away from blogging. Because what I have to say is at best boring and at worse, gross.

I Have to Admit

It's a little fun. I have spent 3 days researching and preparing a presentation on Chilean Judicial Reform in reaction to Pinochet and how it lead to the Fujimori extradition. It's fun. It feels self-indulgent, I'm just here thinking about stuff and writing about stuff. Kind of like college. Little like professional school. After tomorrow, I'll spend 3 more days writing the paper. I do hope it stays fun. I am also looking forward to things like: leaving the house, drinking with others and, say, talking to others.

I like to share things with you, internet

Even embarassing things. Like how fried my brain is that I just had this thought:

Hmmm... when I buy small amounts of milk, I use it all. And when I buy large amounts of milk, it ends up going bad.

As if the explanation were psychological instead of, well, you know, having more or less milk.

Internal Monolgue of Someone Who Feels Like Life is Out of Control

"I have to be there at 12. It takes an hour and a half to get there. I'll leave at 8."

I'm scared.

I am really, really anxious about the next 3-4 weeks. In three weeks 2 finals, a research presentation and a research paper will be done. And all at the same time, I am finding places for and placing hundreds and hundreds of law students in New Orleans and Mississippi. And I haven't started anything. Oh yeah, and maybe getting sued. Plain old bitching about this stuff is boring, but I feel almost paralyzed. Like I ran around all day trying to cover my bases, from class to group meeting to conference call with a break to get groceries since I had to eat the last of my lunch meat for breakfast this morning. And my apartment looks like the apartments they find old packrats dead in and marvel at how they kept 45 years of LIFE magazine.

So I'll be here, chugging along. With plenty of TJ's frozen pizza.

Household Pests

I will level with you internet, one of my greatest fears (I mean, literally, GREATEST FEAR) is getting mice in the apartment I live in alone. This is only moderately tempered by having a boyfriend who, whether he would admit it now or not, would be required to deal with the dead mouse bodies and put me up... well, forever, or until the mice were gone. I can deal with a lot things. I consider myself a strong person and I think I've weathered a lot and surely there's some shit coming down the pike. But. I. Cannot. Deal. With. Mice. Roaches, fine. Gross, but fine. As the original residents of 340 8th St can attest, if we lay traps and kill a mouse, I kid you not, all I can do is scream. Julia eventually ordered me out of the kitchen when my screaming also included breaking a glass. So then there was a dead mouse and broken glass. Awesome, Sarah.
Anyway, thank BABYJESUS, there are so far no mice here. But there are flour moths and there are fruit flies. The flour moths are easier to deal with because, honestly, I don't keep that much food around, so I just threw some of it away and it seemed to get better... but a girl forgets one plastic bag with an apple in it in the fruit basket for a couple of weeks... and there is no going back. They are everywhere, they are sitting on my toothbrush when I go to brush my teeth. They are sitting on the clean dishes in the dishrack. Gross. Ok, fine, I learned my lesson.... no more produce. Thats what they are trying to tell me, right?
So. I did what any reasonable person living in 2007 would do (except for the person who emailed me to ask how long it takes to drive from Madison to New Orleans. I, as nicely as I possibly could, referred her to googlemaps and/or mapquest), I googled "get rid of fruit flies."
The websites suggest putting a banana in a jar, covering it with plastic wrap and poking small holes in the plastic wrap to trap the fruit flies. Ok, fine, except everyone knows how hard it is to buy ONE banana, so I'd end up with, say, 4-5 bananas in this scheme. And we can't refrigerate bananas, so they'd go in the fruit basket. And isn't this EXACTLY WHAT THE FRUIT FLIES WANT? I think so. I think the fruit flies have made it to the internet and are posting in these forums.

Yes, I will tag this post both "theories" and "the deep end." Thank you for your patience.

Last Refuge of the Feeble-minded

My supervising attorney/clinical professor from this summer had us do this reading in the beginning of the summer, it was basically about how law school f's you up and why lawyers are bad writers. Especially why law students are bad writers. It's the whole interesting theory about when you're put into a new environment and learning things quickly, you revert. It's a kind of defense mechanism. Which explains why I am a worse speller than... well, I have ever been. And why I am never sure of a single grammar or punctuation rule. Ok, so the effect is supposed to be wearing off by now... but stay with me.
So I am in this seminar with 20 or so graduate students, PhDs in Sociology and Latin American History, some Education. And I really haven't felt this useless for awhile. Granted, we've only had two classes... but I am sooo out of practice. When the Argentine education PhD refers to Foucault's theory of Power... my blood runs cold. Not because I've never heard of this, but because I have... but... goddamn it... it seems so long ago... and my head is so full of eminent domain and supremacy clause and consideration and jurisdiction. Tort! Tort! And all three times I've spoken, I've gotten the distinct feeling they're all humoring me. "Uhhhh.... huh...." It's kind of a raw deal, because they can all bring up whatever they've been writing dissertations on... and out of fear of being "law girl," I kept quiet when I actually knew something they didn't about International Law. Damn them.
Anyway, I am hoping this is another case of being torn down before being put back together and the feeling will pass. Because, my god, if I am going to feel like I waste of space every Friday from 2:30-5pm... it should be because I am hungover.

Verdict?

Using Westlaw points to buy the first season of Law & Order: poetic genius/justice or the latest slip into biggest law school nerd ever?** Either way, it has arrived and it is totally awesome.

**After recounting stories of some of my clients, my affinity for The Wire and the last book I read... my stepfather last weekend was right to express his concern for my apparent fascination with crime...

Good idea/Bad idea?

A gallon of Crystal Light lemonade per day?

Better or worse than 6 diet cokes per day?

What about diet Coke plus? Is there such a thing as too much niacin and/or "minerals"?

Internet, I need your help.

Cinco de... wait, it's Saturday?

Today is not only a minor Mexican holiday, commemorating the initial victory of the Mexican army of the French in the Battle of Puebla, May 5th, 1862.... but it was also the Mifflin Street Block Party here in Madison.

Both had noble beginnings: Mifflin Street began as student support for anti-war protesters in Vietnam-era... And the aforementioned Mexican army win is nothing to sneeze at. Both now, however, just mean a lot of really drunk people all over the place, darting in front of my car and wandering around with tiny dogs inviting one to come "party" with them...

The Block party has a 35-year history of drinking, partying and listening to bands. It also has a history of violence, rioting, underage drinking and open intoxicants. Thousands of partiers fill the 400 and 500 blocks of Mifflin Street, the intersection with Bassett Street, sidewalks, lawns and porches. "In the Top Ten Again! Is it that Good?"

Sadly, at this confluence of two great drinking holidays... I have been consumed with possessory estates and passive personality jurisdiction.

I also went to Hooters for the first time yesterday: