ramblings of a law student with a family history of neurosis

the ramblings of a law student with a family history of neurosis

Monday, November 29, 2010

The Coast Guard is dropping SPAM. (It is not good as my Aunt's turkey)

OR
The time the rest of the country calls the holidays and Law Students call exams.

My trip to my aunt's for Thanksgiving was lovely. I was able to leave a day earlier than planned because my contracts class was canceled and Amtrak is amazing. (Another reason to love train travel, it only cost me $3 to rebook my ticket, it never ceases to amaze me how much more civilized train travel is, even during a delay in Philly everyone was okay, there was so much less stress and upset then when I fly.)
My break was just the respite I needed from the insanity this part of the school year brings with it. I was able to go for a couple of nice walks, eat WAY too much tasty food, catch up on sleep, and generally bum around getting my head ready for the insanity that descended as soon as I got back to school. I even caught up on the last of my readings (for the whole semester)! I didn't think that was going to happen.
Should I have, in all honesty, probably come home early to miss the craziness of traveling the Sunday after Thanksgiving and work more on my outlines, which are woefully unfinished. Well, the insane 1L in me says yes, and I should have been working the whole time. But mostly my philosophy is that the insanity doesn't really help anyone and that calm focus is such a better way to go about things. This is not how most 1L's feel. Most of my classmates seem to be surviving on coffee and anxiety alone. Even at Cal, where there was a fair amount of exam anxiety, I never saw anything like I see from my classmates now.
It is hard to explain exactly what it is like using anything but a long silly over extended metaphor. It feels like we are all on a boat together an I am aware that everything is fine. We are floating along and everyone needs to keep doing their jobs and there won't be a problem. But then about half of my ship[class]mates are running around screaming that we are sinking. They are running around, screaming, jumping into life boats (and leaving the safety of the boat for the dangers of an open ocean in a dingy.)
Mostly I am fine, I can see the insanity of only getting three hours of sleep a night, or committing a case book to memory, or completely cutting myself off from the rest of the world. But there comes a point when everyone around you is screaming and yelling and a little irrational voice in the back of your head starts saying, wait what was that, are we sinking? I know that it is irrational but you can only block out so much of the crazy. And it is nearly impossible to convince people that we are on the Love Boat and not the Titanic. (Okay well maybe not the Love Boat, although with the amount of inter-classmate dating it is getting there. I guess it is more like that Carnival cruise that was adrift for a week. Yes its stressful and the generators and water system have failed, but the Coast Guard is dropping spam and we will get through this.)
The level of stress and crazy running back and fourth wares on you, and you wonder when we are going to push piggy off a cliff. Which, is why I will leave a room when people are spinning themselves into a frenzy, and why I have committed myself to going for a run every day that I don't have class. (Dead week starts tomorrow so it is most days for the next three weeks.) Because when I am working out everything else falls away, I am not a 1L preping for my first exams, my mom isn't sick, I am not going back home to negoitate the tightrope of my childhood-self and friends with the person I am becoming; there is just music and breathing and (probably way too much) burring of muscles. (It is my Coast Guard SPAM- if you will allow me to take it too far.)
Talking to people about this time of year I get so excited for the future, when holiday stress won't have anything to do with outlining or exams,  because December will be just another stressful month at work and it will just be the added stress of parties and presents and decorations. Then I realized that it is sad that I am excited for the stress other people dread. It is hard to believe after a lifetime being in school before the holidays that I only have this one and then two more, then I get to be a grown up. (I guess?)
Anyway that was a rambling post which is probably pretty indicative of where my head is.
 Now onto studying!

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Little Women

It's been a tough week for my mom and with her my whole family. This news has really gotten me thinking about how important our relationship is. The more I think about it the more I realize the legacy of women in my life. My family is full of mythical women, not that they were not real but just that at some point their impact became bigger than themselves. Thinking back on the people and stories that shaped me it was almost always the women in my life. (With the obvious huge exception of my father.) 

One of the common tropes in our culture is how poorly women treat each other. There are more books about mean girls and cruel sorority sisters than anyone could read in a lifetime. Looking at the cultural artifacts of modern times you see instance after instance of women treating each other terribly, really all reality TV is women putting each other down for publicity. It makes me ill to watch for two reasons. The first, if women want to be held on an equal plain as men we need to take cues from them in how they treat one another, and it certainly isn't pulling one another down. I think it is so important for women to be there for each other, especially the young girls who are learning from us. The second, more personal reason, is I would like culture to reflect my experience, I was raised by a tribe of amazing women each of whom have blessed me with amazing gifts. I wish that this was more women's experience, and that it was what was expected of us. Of course if the standard we are held up to is cruel and degrading that will be what young girls learn, and the experience won't change.
There are so many women who have gotten me where I am: 
The grandmother who taught me that it was okay to be smart and that we each have struggles to deal with.
The grandmother who wished positivity for me and pushed me to be happy, who loved life and taught me to make a mean pie and showed me what it meant to love deeply. 
The aunt who nurtured my creative side. 
The aunt who let me know it was okay to want what I want. 
The aunt who is understanding and honest and has more answers about my crazy weird family than I could hope for.    
The nanny who became a sister and friend, a trusted confidant, with true perspective.
The cousin who always made me feel cool.
The cousin who was there as a big sister and fellow chocolate addict. 
The friend who forced me to have some fun in high school.
The friend whose steady friendship is fiercely dependable.
The friend who is much to understanding of how lazy I am, how much I love junk food and my love of inappropriate conversations. 
My sister who reminds me that there is so much light and beauty in the world, who is much too kind and the only other person on the planet who really gets my parents. 

Most importantly my mom, I try to remember how lucky I am to have such a wonderful relationship with my mom. Who lets me know it is okay to cry and that she is always on my side, a dependable safety net to use as I need. I don't know how she is able to keep the crazy mis-formed pieces of our family together, to create order in the chaotic universe of our lives. She is somehow always only a phone call away, and even more astonishing she can reach through the phone and span a continent with her words. I can't believe her kindness and generosity, the way she willingly sacrifices herself for the rest of us. I hope I don't forget how lucky I am and that I never have to try to fill her shoes.    
Love you mom
   
On a side note I did not want to title this post "Little Women," it was the first thing that came to my mind, but I immediately thought, no I can think of something better than that. So I racked my brain and searched online and you know what I discovered, there just aren't many books about women's relationships. I thought about Jane Austen, but really her books are about finding husbands in the company of your sisters. And then I thought of Amy Tan and Toni Morrison but those are as much about poverty and the minority experience, which really wasn't what I was going for either. (Plus neither have written a book that I would read of my own free will, sorry if that is literary blasphemy.)  According to fiction it seems that a measure of success for women (at least white privileged women) is never forming strong enough bonds with other women that you can't leave them behind. In most novels (even good ones) female protagonists are either finding men or hating their mothers (or both). I think that we can blame Disney and Shakespeare for this.   

Monday, November 15, 2010

By now I have probably lost any added sanity...


So two Saturdays ago I went to the Rally to Restore Sanity [and/or Fear]. It is honestly shameful that it has taken me this long to post about it. 
Anyway it was amazing...

First of all yay for great weather and roommate bonding. We were able to pack a picnic and enjoy the last truly warm day we will see for a while.
Crazy crowded metro,
so crowded the photo doesn't look that crowded
Metro somehow didn't get the message that thousands of people were going to be flooding the mall and were running trains on the usual weekend schedule. Thankfully our combined brilliance meant we were smart enough to ride to the end of the line and actually had seats and were able to get to the rally in time to hear the bands.  
You can kinda see Jon Stewart
The crowd was packed up to 7th street
and from the Capital to the
Washington Monument
We did get to hear the music, but as for the rest of it you had a better view watching from home. The crowds were insane. (To quote a comedian "twice as many people as the Glen Beck rally but weighing in the same.") I imagine my memories will be something like the memories people who were actually at woodstock have (minus the drug induced haze- I had homework to do that evening.) It wasn't so much about the rally as about the collective conscious of the people there. It was too crowded to see or hear much. We actually watched it when we got home so we would know what happened.Talking to people, reading the signs and just being out of the house  was more than worth the time. It is a hard thing to describe what it was like or even why I felt so strongly about going.
As an educated city person I find it incredibly offensive when someone suggests that people who see nuance or live in big cities are not American. While I understand the Capra-esque vision of America that implicates small towns it is the diversity in this country that makes me love it.  In my experience it is the people who haven't seen much of the world or had their views challenged who defend their views most strongly; and they tend to do it by shouting. I guess this  is why I went. It felt patriotic to practice my right to peaceably assemble with other people who don't think screaming at each other was is the way to get things done. I guess I was defending my America, the one that is number one for me, most of whose dysfunctions were predicted (and enabled) by the founders and that has some of the best people who will hopefully get us out of whatever messes we find ourselves in.

Also I went for the funny signs and chance to wear a shirt with a quippy saying.
Pretty sure fox is afraid...
A real tea party 













   
While most of the people at the rally had views which lined up with mine, not all of them did, what joined people was a common interest in discussion. After looking at political issues for much too long I realize how blinded we all are by dogma. It was wonderful to see people come together for reason and discussion. I am not sure if I came away with much more than being a part of a cultural moment; but I was glad to be a part of it. 
Me missing what tea parties used to be...

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Sometimes someone makes you remember...

A pretty good day. Mostly because someone did something for me that really made me feel like everything is going to be okay, an restored my faith in the people around me. Its nice to know that people look out for each other. So thank you.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

At least they have a world series...

Well the California elections weren't a disheartening as the rest of the country. For the first time in years I didn't sit by the TV watching results come in. I worked instead. I am a little disappointed about our new presumed speaker (mostly because of disappointing personal interactions when I worked on the hill.)
 Pelosi may not be Speaker for much longer but at least she has a home town championship.  
Barbra Boxer and Nancy Pelosi at a Giants Game


Hopefully they feel like Gavin Newsom, who when asked about the election responded saying, "Nobody here cares about that, this [referring to the Giants win] puts it all in perspective." 

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

How the Giants won me a beer, and the World Series

I had a difficult time deciding what to call this post. I thought about referencing masochism again, something about how much joy torture can bring at the end, but I thought that was going a bit far. 
I thought more seriously about referencing the Journey song "Lights." And the line, "So you say your lonely, well I am lonely too. And I want to go home to my city by the bay." Because tonight I am as homesick as I have ever been, being in the midst of what my mentor called the most isolating experience she has ever been through, was nothing compared to this evening. And I wish deeply to be back in my City by the Bay. 

I actually sat an watched the Giant's game this evening. I didn't believe that the Giant's would be able to win until there was one strike left. The whole bottom of the ninth I was screaming at the announcers who acted like game was won already. This is a team that exemplifies the idea that it isn't over till the fat lady sings. They were in a similar situation the last time they were in the series and were able to loose it. Acts of God have interrupted their World Series. Cautious optimism is the name of the game. Then Wilson threw the last pitch and the Giants won.

I  immediately started crying. I was so terribly happy. It was the culmination of years of sitting being tortured by Giant's baseball. And I am so glad that it was this team of freaks and miss-fits that was able to do it. Because the Giants are a team of the underdog. This was the way the win was supposed to go, for a team not a star. The cold nights at candlestick, the hot days in the bleachers, the painful losses, seeing Buster Posey hit a home run in his first game in the majors, the Barry Bonds home runs, my grandfather teaching me to keep score, my teen-aged crush on J.T. Snow, my childhood idolization of Glen Ellen Hill because he grew up in my home town and shared my birthday. It is more than what it means to me, it is what it means to my family, an most especially my dad.

I wouldn't love baseball if it wasn't for my dad. His willingness to bribe me with hot chocolate if it was cold and ice cream if it was hot, because "we aren't dodgers fans, and we stay till the end of the game." His ability to sit through games with wining kids, although I am sure the headphones with Kruke and Kype on the radio helped.  His utter devotion to a team that seemed to always let him down. The Giants won their last world series three weeks before my dad was born . (It was the third longest streak behind the Cubs and the Indians if you are keeping track. I used to joke that he was the Giants' curse, and they would win the series again three weeks after he pasted away.) He was born before Major League Baseball came west of the Mississippi and has a couple hazy memories of the when the Seals played in San Fransisco. This means he picked his team and his league, and while the rest of his family has hazy alliances to the American League and the Oakland A's, my dad is nothing if not a Giants fan. He taught me from a young age why the designated hitter rule was an abomination and that the only prejudice you are allowed to express openly is against Dodger's (and then it is best done in a loud voice.) His stories of being a young fan are the stuff of Americana.

This win was a big moment for my childhood self and the part of me that is truly my father's daughter. And I couldn't share it with my family. There wasn't anyone around I could hug, who got it. Who knows what an accomplishment it was to get a Croix De Candlestick or the nausea that comes when you discuss 2002 and Ortiz. I was alone in my joy and sometimes that is even harder than being alone in sadness
.
So I cried, big smiling wet tears for my team and my family. When it came time to pay my bill my weighter turned to me and said "your beer is on me. You totally made my night. I am a Red Socks fan so I get it." Maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought I was, but I was still outside of my city missing my people.
Really I just looking for someone to be able to do this with:
Carlos Avila Gonzalez / San Francisco Chronicle
Because that is how I felt.
So thanks dad for spending every summer and a small fortune giving me a passion for baseball and a tolerance for torture. You can let mom know it was worth it. 





(And I promise I will post on this weekend, but it probably will be about this time next week)