A letter to my little sister upon the occasion of her first being a bridesmaid.

alternatively, what I wish I had known when I was twenty-two.

Wedding season is upon us. That lovely time of year when as, a twenty or thirty something, you spend most of your weekends  and much of your money at weddings and their related parties (showers, bachelorette parties, gown fittings, engagement parties . . . the list goes on and on.) I spent the last two weekends at weddings. Most recently it was my little sister's best friend from childhood got married, my dad officiated, our whole family was invited and my little sister was in the bridal party. This was the "first wedding" for my little sister and her friends (by that I mean the first wedding where the bride and groom were their friends and contemporaries.) Having had about six more wedding seasons and being part of the "adult table" at this wedding gave me an interesting perspective, and made me think of a bunch of advice I would give to someone as they start this phase of their lives.

1. Don't show up hungry: yes these events are about food, and there is a chance that you will have to be rolled out of the venue in a wheel barrow, but you can't assume that you are going to be fed right away. Maybe they will start with appetizers or maybe the service will be short, or maybe you will be in a stifling church for a high mass and you will be that person who fainted when the incense came down the isle. This is doubly true if you are in the bridal party, people will be plying you with champagne all day your friend will hate you if you have drunk eyes in all of her pictures.  
2. Wedges and flip flops: If there is any chance any part of the wedding is outside wear wedges. It limits the risk of falling on uneven gopher hole filled ground, and even if you have only had a tiny sip off champagne and your floor length dress gets caught on your foot, if you fall at a wedding everyone will assume you are drunk. I am aware that they aren't great for dancing but better that than becoming a one man aerating crew. Which is why flipflops, hide them somewhere, whether you are wearing wedges or heels, once you are done with photos and have enjoyed enough of the signature cocktail that you don't care about your outfit you will be ready to truly enjoy yourself (you can also embrace your inner hippy and just go barefoot, but that isn't always ideal.) 
3. Really just clothes you can dance in (without embarrassing your grandmother). So maybe your grandmother won't be there, but at a wedding there is a good chance someone's will be. Weddings have a different music than clubs, different dress codes and different dancing. You'll have a better time if you don't wear something that risks flashing Pop-pop during Twist and Shout and having it caught on camera for the happy couple to enjoy forever, (if this doesn't worry you, you are more confident than me and I applaud you. I tend to save it for the bachelorette and still worry that my spanx are showing.)

4. Treasure the day. This is the one that is most important. It probably the one that makes me seem like an old lady (although the my feelings on dress code have a certain "get off my lawn" feel to them.) In the midst of your first wedding it is easy to get irritated with your friends. You have seen a lot of them, you are all sleep deprived, some (or all) of you are in dresses you didn't pick out which might be unflattering or uncomfortable. But these are the last glowing days of the friendships of youth, and before you know it your relationships will have transformed in ways that are incomprehensible to you now. The transition isn't sudden or tragic, it is a necessary part of growing up and a consequence of the gift of the freedom to marry and work and explore outside our hometowns. The friends who are important will always be a part of you, but not in the same way. I wish I could say that even if you move apart they will only be a phone call away, but that isn't true. At some point someone else will come ahead of you, they will pick their husband before you, their children, begrudgingly their jobs, and they won't answer your call. Not to hurt you but because the realities of life are more pressing. But in the glow of your first wedding weekend you can forget all of that, strengthen the ties between you, grow the memories you will cherish. It isn't going to be the same again, but you can enjoy it now, and start your future together whatever it brings.

I told you I have been to a lot of weddings.

Don't tell me to "breath"

I have always been a terrible speller, just ask my second grade teacher, or my parents, or probably anyone reading this blog. It is better with typing than hand-writing, and I am better at editing others than myself, but it is always a struggle. I have to stay on top of it, especially because I know people are paying me to pay attention to detail, although they are also paying me to speed read, which cuts in the opposite direction. Which is to say that this isn't a rant about people who don't know the difference between "breath" and "breathe" or "draw" and "drawer" or "won't" and "wont" or any number of other words we get wrong because we were typing fast, or lazy or didn't understand the rule.
This is a rant about a very specific type of email I get much too often, in which a sender (usually older and male, although not always) responds to my concerns by telling me to "breath." Usually these emails come from someone I am on a board with or a pro se (self represented) opposing litigant; I have never gotten one from another attorney, although that does not mean it won't happen in the future.

Here is what  happens:

1) The event, some action is taken or occurs which concerns me. It usually has to be something that really sits with me for a while, something big, a client or colleague behaving badly, an important decision being made too causally, something that is going to impact more than me alone.

2) My irritation keeps distracting me and I write a letter. This letter will end up being multi-bullet pointed, written, condensed, fleshed out, made as clear as possible while still conveying my grave concerns. It generally is a couple days between the event an when I send the letter to the interested party.
Usually (ideally) this letter will then serve to start a conversation on the concerns, or I will be told that it is too late to address it but my concerns are noted, or it is ignored. All of these are valid responses, some of them are more irritating than others but I don't impugn them as options. However, that is not always the response a recipient will give.

3) I receive a patronizing reply, very often where the author tells me more than once to "breath." Then I become so angry I have to step away from my email and will generally ignore the person until we absolutely must interact again. It isn't the most mature approach, but it is better than the reply I would deliver if I let my baser instincts react.

Here is why the visceral and violent response:

It implies that I am hysterical, in a fit of emotion that is rendering me unable to breathe. Throughout history women with strong opinions were considered crazy, dangerous, bad mothers, unfit wives. The victims of the Salem Witch Trials we mostly single or widowed women who were able to survive alone, they stayed alive as long as their work didn't upset the male political and religious leaders in their communities. First generation feminists trying to get suffrage were locked away in mental institutions, force fed and had their children taken away from them because they were "crazy" and hysterical. In the 1950, 60, 70's women who were dissatisfied with their lot as wives and mothers without intellectual stimulation were medicated into placidity. There is a long history of women with opinions being told that they are crazy. While the battles I occasionally take on are not those of the women before me the reaction I get when I am told to calm down and shut up is part of that legacy.

If you call someone crazy, or hysterical or (my favorite buzz word) "emotional" it means that they are not thinking logically, analytically, (like a man) and you don't have to pay attention to what they are saying. So my angry response comes from the fact that whoever wrote that email clearly didn't take the time read what I wrote to them.

And to make it all worse they couldn't even do me the courtesy of responding with the correct word.

Bucket lists and ruins of the world.

Dip Girl (who is still a diplomat, but now married so maybe "girl" is unfair, but I am still Law Girl on her blog so I will leave it) and I have seen a lot of ruins together; we joke that it has kinda become our thing and have discussed where else we have to get to. (Easter Island, Nepal, Italy, Jordan, Egypt, Italy, Greece, India and Myanmar are all currently on the list- whether we will wait to make them happen together is another question.) I just got back from visiting her and a joint trip to Machu Picchu, which we added to our locations that already included Mexican and Cambodian temples.

Machu Picchu is on a lot of people's so called "bucket lists" and it is amazing. However- and I fully realize that this is coming from an extremely privileged and nit-picky place- Machu Picchu is amazing, but I would recommend other ruins first. There are tons of things Machu Picchu has going for it: the mystery surrounding its purpose and the "lost" city mythology (granted this is a very western view, people who lived in the area knew it was there,) the fact that it is in a cloud forest, the hiking around the site. However, like many tourist sights, it is very expansive; and it is difficult to get to, even if you don't do the hiking, llamas (I loved the llamas). My favorite part of ancient sights is the way details can remain. I loved the carvings in Cambodia and Mexico, the way mosaics in Rome remain. Unfortunately there aren't as many of those details at Machu Picchu, and I (mistakenly) went in with that as an expectation. Additionally, for all the work it takes to get to the site (you fly to Lima and connect to Cusco, then you take a train from Cusco, or as we did because it was the low season, take a car to a city further up the sacred valley to catch a train, then you take a train to Aguas Calientes (an incredibly unattractive place)  where you catch a bus to the site. In the dry season you can hike, but to prevent wear on the Incan Trail the Peruvian government has significantly reduced the number of people allowed to do that, and you are required to hire a porter. You can also walk parts of it along unattractive roads with busloads of tourists going past you) there is really only a day worth things to see, (that is with hiking up the mountain behind the site) and you spend a good portion of the middle of the day pushing through crowds. (And we were there in low season, I can't even imagine what peak is like.) Granted the whole of the sacred valley has more, but many people miss that taking the train quickly through and not spending any time in Cusco.

None of this is to discourage people from going. Peru is amazing, the people are wonderful the food is INSANE it is so good. (Although, unfortunately the food around Macchu Picchu is homogeneous back packer fare, over priced, un-inventive imaginings of dorm food: that  people would leave with that impression of Peruvian food is a tragedy, and another way the site disappoints.) My point is that it doesn't deserve the premier place on people's bucket lists it gets. Macchu Picchu is served by being an amazingly photogenic place, but I think that it has elbowed its way higher in some people's estimations than it deserves because of the gorgeous photos people bring home. The Mayan and Aztec ruins in Mexico are amazing: closer to the states, better food and accommodations in close proximity, some sites are basically devoid of other tourists, it is inexpensive and you can add it on to a beach vacation. Cambodia has dozens of temples that you can explore, and while the town around them is rough around the edges, it has some of the worlds best spas and makes for a relaxing home base. There are options beyond Macchu Picchu that if you don't have the luxury of traveling you might want to examine before you buy your ticket, and if you do Macchu Picchu don't be in such a rush to check it off your list that you don't have the opportunity to appreciate it in context.

My point in all of this is the Peru should be the destination, not just Macchu Picchu. It is fascinating and beautiful and will make you fat in the best possible way. However, without the context of the world around it Macchu Picchu is poised to disappoint people who have been waiting their whole lives to see it.

I promise to post more about my trip, they will be happier I promise. It was an amazing trip.

How can you not love that face?

Some days my greatest achievement is not crying at my desk.

I think there is a reputation of law practice in general, and litigation practice groups within firms most especially, as stressful and emotionally trying places. (Although I think most people think their jobs are especially stressful and emotionally draining so I am reticent to claim special status.)

Anyway, we are in the midst of a trial. It isn't a trial I have done much work on, but once a trial start it becomes an all hands situation; whatever other priorities you may have had get put on hold and you help as soon as you are asked. I was asked to help with a research project that seemed like it should have an obvious and straightforward answer but, as is often the case with simple questions, had no discernible answer whatsoever. I cobbled together the best answer I could, but it was not what the partner wanted. (The partner who is under a huge amount of stress, who is sleep deprived, and who just wanted a clear answer.) He was not happy and I heard about it.

So I kept my head down and worked. I kicked off my super cute and impractical shoes and kept my "desk shoes" on- even in the library and copy room. I billed a ton (which is the upside of this) even with my headache from straining to keep it together. I talked myself out of buying a new pair of amazing work pants, that I really want but absolutely do not need. (When I get upset I have a very bad habit of saying f**k it, I am going to buy it.) Basically it was an entire day teetering on an emotional razor-blade because I felt incompetent.

The partner wasn't loud, or rude or mean; just exceedingly disappointed; which is so much worse. In telling the story to her my mom asked "but why didn't you defend yourself to him?" That is a complicated question. I am sure part of it is a passivity born of being taught the importance of being "nice" above all. But that isn't it alone, a part of it is that you can never be certain that there isn't a better answer you didn't find, with millions of cases and statutes and rules, not to mention articles and legislative history- you can't read it all. Plus there is the ever looming fact that the line between explaining and making excuses can be thin, and taking responsibility and fixing the problem (or at least moving on) is much preferred to perceived excuses.

Anyway, today is a new day and last night the second chair sent me an email thanking me for my help, which I am taking to mean I am not getting fired.

Upon the death of a patriarch

I apologize for the topic of this post. It is such a struggle to decide what to say publicly when someone dies. I think that the way it “ought” to be dealt with is something that many people have strong feelings about, and yet there is no consensus. So in a selfish attempt to sort through my own head after the death of my Grandfather, on this the day we laid him to rest, I am making my thoughts public. I promise this won't be too sad, more a reflection; death is inevitable and dying at nearly ninety is something of an accomplishment. Not that we won't miss him, but there is much more to be celebrated than mourned. 

 My Grandfather was not an easy man: raised in depression, served in the Navy and worked on the railroad, he had gained the requisite tough exterior. I did not have an easy relationship with him as a young girl; I was eventually able to hold my own, but there were years I lived in terror of his acerbic tongue. To this day I think I have spilled more tears over his short temper and impatience than any other man or boy. Eventually I came to understand that he had his own burdens, that he loved us but didn't express it well. That, for most of my life he was either dealing with being the caregiver for my grandmother as she suffered from a terminal illness, or mourning her loss, was a difficult realization that shed some light on his temper. As I grew up I came to appreciate that he was stubborn, not only in his demands but also his love for family.

 I also came to view and appreciate my grandfather’s quiet streak of feminism. I don’t imagine that is a word that he would have been very comfortable using, and he certainly wasn’t radically progressive in the area, but it was pretty clear that he viewed my grandmother as a partner and that they raised their sons and daughter to raise strong women of their own. He was nonchalant about voting for a woman or going to female doctors. He was raised by a single mother after his father passed away, and I am sure watching that strength of will had a great influence on him. He never batted an eye when I decided to work on the hill or go to law school, and he was an equal opportunity interrupter.

 In his last days he asked for us all to come see him. He could be demanding, and we wondered if he was feeling bored, but, when we arrived, it was clear he was saying goodbye, taking his last moments to enjoy us all together. He had been sick for some time, and while we had joked that he was stubborn enough to live forever, I had accepted that his time was near. His last question to me was whether anyone actually read the books in our law library, which I could answer honestly that they did. I’ll think of that question any time I pull a reporter from the shelf, a small carried forward " I love you".

“Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It’s that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don’t know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.” 

—Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

My Grandfather had lost his front teeth to a horseshoe as a young man,
when my cousin and I lost our front teeth at the same time he tool the
opportunity to show off his inner first-grader. 

In which everyone thinks "oh, she is a lesbian."

But where I am actually just terrible at relationships.

I have an event to attend this weekend where I will be representing my firm and which is the type of event where people often bring a date. (The firm even offered to pay for said date's dinner.) Now because I am the type of person who would rather drink wine in her sweats and watch Scandal with her mother than go on a date, I do not have anyone to bring to this event.
While I don't overstate my own ineptitude at romance, there is also the problem of finding an appropriate date to bring to this type of function. My firm has asked me to be its representative on the board of directors for our chamber of commerce, and their annual gala [lets be real its dry chicken and a local band] is this weekend. Now I live on the coast in California and the town I live in is full of some of the last living hippies, probably easy enough to come out in and relatively relaxed standard for dress and decorum. The town I work in - a stone's throw a way- is still pretty old school. There is a huge agriculture industry and a lot of old timers (the fact that I was born in the hospital in town means something to some of our clients, even the corporate clients.) My firm is definitely part of that old guard, we still have octogenarian partners who come in every day (lets just say pantyhose are not optional.) It is the type of place where it might still be uncomfortable to come out of the closet. As a straight woman I am lucky not to have to deal with that hurdle, unfortunately it means finding a male date.
Honestly I have enough amazing female friends it would be much easier to find a woman to bring to this event. There appears to have been an outbreak of Peter Pan syndrome throughout my home town. As much as I would enjoy explaining why a suit is the appropriate dress code to the surfer who "doesn't own paints, except for snowboarding... does that count?" Or to watch as an artist who "doesn't like to have a schedule dictated to him" explain his aversion to my Korean War veteran boss; I decided to go alone. It makes for better networking, and there are many fewer opportunities for embarrassment.

It did mean that I had to have these conversations:

From the octogenarian: "So are we going to meet your young man?"
Me: "Nope, it is just me."
Him: "Oh, well, better luck next year"

From the Managing Partner: "The firm will pay for you to bring a date"
Me: "Thanks, but I would rather go on my own, better networking"
Him: "Okay, whatever you want"

From our accounting department: "Just $75.00 on the check? You know that just covers you, right?"
Me: "Yep, just me."
Her: "No date?"
Me: "No date."
Her: "Hmm, OK, $75.00 then"

From the president of the chamber: "I see you just RSVP'd for one, did you mean to include a guest?"
Me: "I know, it is just me."
Her: "People generally bring guests"
Me: "Do I need to bring a guest?"
"No, no, just it is an option you know."
"Okay, well just me then."

Honestly, tomorrow is going to be interesting.

The New Year (or Third)

I am not a devotee of New Year’s resolutions, and maybe it is a false hope to think that I will get back in the habit of writing, but a new year does seem like a good time to turn a leaf and write again. Of course the stated purpose of my writing was to keep in touch with my family from a distance, which is less essential now that I am back home. 

I am sorry that I have been so inattentive. Sometimes the practice of blogging feels a bit “navel gaze-y,” and I wonder if I am falling into the stereotype of a self-important millennial assuming anyone wants to read my thoughts. (Case and point: apologizing for not writing as if anyone was waiting with bated breath for me to post again; other than my parents. Insert gold star parent joke here.)

 I hope I have something interesting to say. Being back in my home town, with all of its quirks; practicing law at a firm that feels like a big fish because of our tiny pond; faking adulthood as a twenty something. Thanks for coming back. Let me know if I am being an idiot. 

I’m baaaack…

I apologize that it has been over a year since I posted, and well over since I was posting with any regularity. I guess there is nothing like getting really pissed off to inspire venting, and there is nothing like feeling trapped in your home town to inspire semi-anonymous venting into the ether of the Internet.

It has been quite a year, 3L left me both frantic with work and bored beyond belief. My clinical experience, and the work I was able to do for real clients reinvigorated me for the practice of law, while having to sit in class each day left me counting the days to graduation. Now, as is so often our wont as human beings, I am looking back and wishing I hadn’t been so anxious to move on.

It wasn’t an easy year, despite some phenomenal success for clients, graduation saw me with a deferred job offer that is looking more and more like a rescinded offer. Thankfully I was able to acquire a fellowship with a start up company in my home town. So I am living the dream, back at my parents’ house, working an extra job for spending money and trying to suppress the impending existential crisis.

Spring time trips and birthday disappointment.

In continuing my attempt to take you through the months of life that were un-blogged, I am writing once more about last spring. (And hey, this is the third post this month so I would say I am making some, middling, progress.)
My parents sent my little sister to visit me, for her spring break, which just happened to be around my birthday and, more importantly at cherry blossom time. It was a pretty awsome trip, although not without its trials-we are sibblings after all and even as we get older we know how to push each other's buttons, although traveling together has gotten much easier as time has gone on. (The first road trip I rember taking with her, led to me threatening at some point to throw her out the window. I was serious, my parents were displeased.)

It was nice to show her around DC and take her to some of my favorite places, with the added advantage of Meghan still being on my parents dole, so she was a less expensive visitor than many of my friends. Plus there really isn't a better time to be in the district than the end of March. (This is a stark contrast to the beginning of July which I would argue is the worst time to be in the district.)  
Another plesant birthday surprise- my parent's got me a Kindle Fire! I was very excited, I always ask for a surprise gift from my parents. I know in many ways this is mean, basically I am testing how well they know me, giving them no hints, but it makes the gift so much better because I have no idea what is coming and it is something I probably wouldn't have gotten for myself. Which really illistrates the problem of gift giving as you get older, anything that I would ask for there is a good chance I will just buy it for myself and giving money just goes to needs like groceries and rent. (Not that I mind thos things- a girls gotta eat but it is so much fun to be really surpriesed and touched by a gift.)
Unfortunately my little sister had to leave early on the morning of my birthday, which left a bit to be desired as birthdays go. Thursdays were my long day last semester (nearly straight through from 10 in the morning till 8 at night) and most of my friends (including my roommate) forgot I realize that this is partly my fault, my facebook doesn't have my birthday on it, and I tend to not make a big deal about it, but still it was a little depressing. Thankfully I had saved a stack of cards from people at home to open and enjoy, because a spring break trip and law school isn't quite as insane as a wedding. (Plus my roommate eventually remembered and insisted on margaritas and chocolate cake- something that tastes good even the day after your birthday.)

She is definitely not Jake, but my roommate makes a mean birthday cake.

Spring Break...so much better than last year!

Spring Break as it should be...mimosas in a mason jar!

At my law school your spring break 1L year is set up to drain the life out of you. Mine did, in part because I was so miserable about the things I would supposed to get done and which made break miserable that I didn't actually get them done. So not only was I stressed out I was unproductive. At very least I got to visit my family which was a bonus.

Central Market- Charelston

This year that was not the case, sure there was work that I would have ideally gotten done, but it didn't need to happen (and therefore did not get done.) I decided to rationalize that spending time relaxing was probably good for my mind. A group of my friends and I rented a beach house in South Carolina. We were a little before college spring break, which made the island we were staying on a bit more laid back than it might be otherwise.

I love getting to spend time near the ocean and I haven't been able to spend as much time in the south I would like, so when one of my girlfriends- who, because of our mutually busy schedules, I never get to spend enough time with- invited me to come along I jumped at the chance, even though it meant missing my dad while he was here for briefly for work. I was really looking forward to a break from school, and DC and the pace of real life. Of course, as is the case with much of life it wasn't as stars and ferries as I had hoped.

First of all, it was early March, so we knew going in that the weather might be iffy, and we didn't get too many great beach days. (You will not the lack of beach photos-I didn't take many.) Also as the population of our vacationers changed and it quickly became evident that I was going on a "boy's trip." Now not entirely boys,  it was two couples three boys and me; but I realized that this was the first time I had been on a "boys boys," (probably because I am not cut out for them.) In college I could always find better modes of transportation to football games than the frat buses, and I have always had more girlfriends than guy friends. So all my trips have been family vacations, trips with my girlfriends and vacations on my own, and I have no problem saying that they are what I prefer. My experiance with this group of fine young gentalmen was that they thought I was their mother, something that I am sure would have displeased their actual mothers.

You notice that I call my travel companions "boys," this is because they behaved as such, not because I think of all males my age as boys, but rather because the behaved as boys. We had an amazing house right on the ocean, I would wake up in the morning to go for a run on the beach and when I got back all the blinds facing the ocean would be closed so that the guys could play video games. Which is fine, it is their vacation my problem is that we were not allowed to open our blinds the whole time we were there, because of the glare. As soon as I would get in the house one of them would ask "hey, when is breakfast going to be ready?" I wanted to answer I don't know asshole maybe when you get off your ass and make it? But I had decided to be "fun" and "kind" which in my twisted brain translated to cooking and cleaning and becoming their mother; which of course then resulted in anger and passive aggression- making me not fun at all. All and all I was left utterly without hope for the men of my generation.

That's not to say the trip didn't have highlights, I read all of the hunger games trilogy in under something like 36 hours. They were addicting, and twisted and while they left much to be desired it was nice to read a heroine that actually stood up for herself. The other highlight was spending the day in Charleston with my friend and her boyfriend. While I did feel like a third wheel the day kept me from killing any of the guys back at the house who were still playing video games. (I get that they relax people but the boys never: went to the beach, to Charleston, to Savannah or really into town- I don't understand why they needed to drive 500 miles and pay to rent a beachfront property if you are only going to do exactly what you do at home.)

 

I really enjoyed Charleston and Folly beach even if it was a week of week of cooking and cleaning for spoiled man children (who couldn't operate a diswaher and spilled beer exrywhere for me to clean up), it was still better than last year. I would love to go back and spend some time there for a bachelorette, or girls vacation; but after this spring break  I think there will need to be a "NO BOYS ALLOWED" sign on the front door.   

It's not you, it's me...

If it makes you feel better it isn't just the blog I have been neglecting, I got my hair cut for the first time today since December! (That is almost 8 months-think of the split ends.)

Seriously though, I know I have been terrible about posing lately; I haven't written about spring break, or my South East Asia trip, or my summer job...the list goes on and on. I have a few posts that I have been working on, so here's hoping I get it together an they go up soon.

If I visit you in Arizona in August and Alaska in January you know I will always be your friend.

Somehow this has been luxuriating in my "to be written" folder for the better part of a semester. I will blame it on the very trip I am going to detail, claiming (mostly falsely) that by taking a trip to Alaska at the beginning of the semester I got so behind that I was unable to write. In truth, starting my semester with an awesome Alaskan wedding did set a precedent for what has been a very fun semester. (And evidently when I am having fun I don't write about it.)
Last year, at about this time-as the cold weather and grey skies were starting to get to me, I started planning a trip to see one of my best friends from college who is getting her master's degree in Arizona. (I will call her Sadie, because as the first of my college friends to get married she has become "Sadie, Sadie married lady.") At this point she was single, not even a ring on her finger, but she was talking about this boy an awful lot. Then I found out the boy was moving to Arizona to get his masters (and I started to get worried that I would be a third wheel) and then I found out that they were going to live together (and I worried that I had lost my place to stay) and then he proposed and I was afraid that I wouldn't get to go on my vacation.
As you can see this was really about me...
In all honesty I was a little nervous, I understand the way adding a partner can change things and I wanted to be able to reminisce and enjoy with out unwanted male interference. I shouldn't have worried, he was kind enough not to move down until a week after my vacation. It was a wonderful little vacation, what the English would term a "mini-break." It was lovely to be able to lay in the sun, drink girly drinks, gossip and brainstorm about Sadie's wedding. (There was a small incident where I stepped on a rattle snake but it didn't bite me so I am still alive.) Somehow I survived without a burn or a bite, rhapsodizing about the glories of Tuscan in August.
Then in October I got an invitation in the mail, and convinced my parents to send me to Alaska (where both Sadie and her now husband are from) for Christmas. I had an amazing time:
First: It is great to see friends again.
I had seen Sadie this summer but other friends I had known from Berkeley went up and converged on Alaska. We all stayed in Sadie's parents house for what felt like a week of slumber parties, except with wedding cake and champagne sampling, not to mention decoration and program prepping duties. (I don't know how her father survived as the only man in a house of between six and eight females (and I was sleeping in the den so he was without what my father would term a "man-cave.")  He was an amazing sport though, even playing card games with us and diligently practicing for his speech and dance with the bride.
Second: I kinda liked the weather.

Yes it was cold (I don't think it ever got above -10 (yes that is a negative) but you prepare for it, and the city of Anchorage knows how to handle snow. Plus when you are going out you prepare for it mentally and physically, no one expects anything other than tights and boots and snow in your hair.  Plus (as you can see) it makes for some awesome photos.
Finally I love a wedding.
For all my doubts and questions about getting and being married (at least for myself) I love a wedding. They are probably my favorite way to spend a Saturday. There is booze and dressing up and food and cake and the best kind of dancing, where you do actual steps and the music switches through the last three decades and somehow you spend six hours in five inch heels and don't even notice. Although my enthusiasm may have been because of the ratio of single men to single women, because my female friends gravitate toward serious long term relationships and the bride and groom's male friends don't I was one of the few single women left to dance with the men- it is a hard job but someone has to do it. (Plus a wedding is even better if the bride asks me to let my type A-ness eek out, so I can yell at the DJ for not getting people on the floor, and grumble to guests who dare disturb her flowers.)
Plus I get to wish a very dear friend all the best in the world as she starts her life with a wonderful man.

So yes I will go to Tuscan in August and Alaska in January... Just don't ask me to catch the damn bouquet! 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Okay, so I know I am late, but not that late if you take into account Chinese New Year, which was only a week ago.

I celebrated each of the New Years as in true Bay Area fashion, while I stuck close to my roots on both occasions the evenings couldn't have been more different.
I was lucky to spend the Georgian New Year with friends in the Marina. While we did spend a little time out dancing and we watched the city's fireworks from the bay most of the evening was spent in preparation for going out. I don't know how we do this, but some how the production of hair, clothes and makeup takes longer than you spend actually dancing; and what is it for your in a dark room with strange lighting, it is probably 100 degrees with the humidity of the tropics. No one looks good five minutes after you walk in the door. In college it made a little more sense, before going out there was usually a parade of photos that were taken, not to mention a less sauna like location for the ubiquitous "pre-gaming." For some reason I still do it, which isn't even the crazy part.
The crazy part is that I like it. Far and away the most fun I had was getting ready and drinking Martini's with the girlfriend I was with. We have been friends since junior high, and while we were always close she was never my dearest friend. But in a strange "isn't it funny how things change" way we are living surrprisingly relatable lives. While she is married (something that still freaks me out to think about- it doesn't feel real to me. Contrary to every father everywhere in my head she and her husband are simply living in sin, this makes much more sense to me.) But other than the fact that she has a husband (and I SO don't) our lives are on similar tracts. She is a PhD student on the east coast, and while her program is only mildly related to law we share a common language. I is a wonderful treat to be able to talk to someone who knows your past but can also get where you are in the moment. It is a rare thing. My family is terribly supportive; thinking I am brilliant and capable. This is great, but when something that is exciting happens they don't understand the significance of it. It feels like "of course you did it because you are amazing!" So it was wonderful to talk to someone who got it. We could both talk about our accomplishments without feeling like we were gloating or competing (which is what it feels like with law school friends) and we still understood the magnitude of what we had been able to accomplish.

Plus it is really great to gossip about High School with a drink in your hand and a Diploma on the wall. 

I had much less fun on Chinese New Year...

My first year of college one of my roommates was Chinese and she still sends me updates every year at the lunar new year telling me how to best prepare myself for the year ahead (you can basically insert a slew of Berkeley stereotypes into the quad I lived in as a freshman- I know, I am sure I have mentioned others, but Berkeley has a stereotype for a reason.) This is the year of the Dragon, and I (along with much of the rest of of my graduating class) was born under the sign of the Dragon. While we are supposed to be the luckiest sign this isn't going to be a great year for us, my friend (through her grandmother) tells me that I need to be behave conservatively (spending another 40 grand on law school, voting for Obama, traveling to South East Asia- I think I have already failed that one.) Guard my head (she wasn't to clear on this one, but suggested with my tendency to fall down I might want to start wearing a helmet all the time.)

Okay so those aren't looking so good, so she advised what she advises every year (and I sometimes follow) to clean. You are supposed to clean you house and remove all of the bad luck from the previous year so that the good luck can flow in. I am not sure if it works, but it is nice to have an excuse to have a sparkly clean house. We actually moved the oven to get the grime out from under and around it. Also, because the entryway is the most important area because that is where luck enters, I was able to get my roommate to move some of her shoes to her bedroom- a major victory. 

So here is to a new year, hopefully eating beans and scrubbing floors will pay off and it will be a good one, (because I would be really pissed if the Mayans were right and the world ends a semester before I finish law school. )

In Between

I love Holidays (in theory and in part) and I love my family, and with exams being over you would think that going home for winter break would be a blissful three weeks. Unfortunately, going home for the holidays isn't easy, so much of it seems to emphasize the things that are difficult about being in my early to mid twenties. It places into sharp focus the fact that I am in limbo. I am some place between the family I grew up with and the family I will create, I am not a child my parents have to raise but I am not one of the grown-ups either. Most of the time it is easy to ignore, I am busy enough living two parallel lives that the places they blur together aren't so noticeable, but when I am home living as a daughter, all of the ways I have changed come into sharp (sometimes comedic ) relief.
This year was better than most, usually my dad and I get along wonderfully for about three days and then we spend the rest of my time at home at each other's throats. Most of this comes from my unwillingness to take (what the Irish and the polite person in me would call) blarney. After many occasions of, mostly good natured, teasing I would remind him that if he wanted a pushover he should have raised one. It used to be that my mom and little sister let him off the hook, so my coming home was the estrogen bomb that sent him running to his man cave. This year my little sister came home first, and she took her turn taking on my father. Which meant I either got to be "the good one" or I had a partner in crime. What I call a win win.

Me and my Mom, making fun of my Dad at Fort Point
Under the Golden Gate Bridge 

While I had hoped my little sister's active social life and snark while at home would suck up my Dad's attention it seemed to shine it back on me, as if we both needed to be held to an eighteen year-old's level of scrutiny. Although it has been many years since I have allowed him to control my social life, while I am at home I do understand that my parents have a right to know where I am going. This also frequently means I get my dad's commentary about things like skirt length (you're sure you don't want to cover your legs?) tight warmth (with all those holes your legs must get cold, why don't you put on pants?) driving routes (don't take the freeway it will be crazy the frontage road is better.) Not to mention a general proclivity for asking questions he doesn't wan't to know the answer to- trust me dad what you are looking for is not in the pink bag, you DON'T want to go in there. Although much of this impasse was defeated when he realized that I could embarrass him more (with the contents of said pink bag)  than he could embarrass me (because anything that embarrassing I wouldn't bring home).
It was a tougher year for my Mom and I, we are very close and other that a few disagreements, generally about my clothing budget and reluctance to disclose my love life (mostly because it doesn't exist) we get along really well. This year there was an undercurrent of tension between us, I think because we both realize that Holidays at home may be coming to an end and will certainly get shorter. I can't be sure, but the whole year had a sense of change to it. So while I am still in between I don't know if it will be for long or what it will mean on the other side.
It was still a magical Christmas, with weather most people could only dream of. So thank you, Babette for taking the heat off me, Mom for caring enough to worry about change, Dad for my thick skin and unwillingness to take crap, and my whole family for a wonderful holiday season!

When did I become this person?

Confession...

I started this posting some time during the winter exam period last year and it has languished in my draft folder for that time with many paragraphs added and deleted. But it originally started with an exclamation over the fact that I found myself writing sentences like: "Whereby an operation of law you have merged liability..." and how quickly law school shaped my brain and enabled me to "think like a lawyer."

Now it isn't so much about academic changes but a mi a culpa in the form of astonishment that I somehow left behind my posting schedule and haven’t updated in months. This change is not about the way my brain works but instead astonishment at the way this life has swallowed me whole.

It certainly wasn’t a bad semester, being busy allowed me to focus my time better and cut away the things that I don’t get value from, but I never intended to fall of the face of the virtual world. It wasn’t that I didn’t write, there are a number of similarly half-finished postings waiting to be finished.

So here is to 2012, hopefully I will get back on the ball. Big things are coming I will keep you posted.

Presidential Fitness Test

When I was ten or eleven (I know it was spring of fifth grade, I am not sure which side of my birthday it was situated on) my class had to take the "Presidential Fitness Test." While for many kids this is an excuse to get out of the classroom and expend some energy, for my over-tall, gangly, be-speckled self having to not only run but do push up and a bent arm hang was nothing short of torture. Add to that the fact that my fifth grade teacher (a man who exemplified the axiom those who cannot do teach) forgot to tell us when the date of the test. For this reason I was wearing a dress, one of my favorites with polka-dots and a tulle under-skirt. While I may have run faster if I had worn athletic shoes, and I was furious with being made to lay on the ground to do sit ups, it is the memory of struggling to pull my body up over a bar on the playground, my entire body straining to reach above the bar my entire class watching me (I am sure flashing my knickers to all of them) that stuck with me. I cannot think of the "Presidential Fitness Test" without a bolt of fear and shame running through me.
So what does this have to do with anything?
I have decided that we need a new "Presidential Fitness Test," not to test the upper-body  of preteens but instead a measure of fitness of presidential candidates.
Earlier this week Herman Cain said that if elected president he would "sign a constitutional amendment banning abortion." Regardless of your feelings on abortion this statement should raise eyebrows, because under Article 5 of the Constitution the president does not sign constitutional amendments. While there is plenty of room for debate about Roe and its progeny, and questioning their validity shouldn't make a person intelligible to be president not knowing how the foundational law of our republic should, or at very least should open you up to the sort of ridicule and embarrassment that fifth graders face on the school yard when they take the Presidential Fitness Test.     
Discussing this with my roommate we came up with quite a list of questions that should be asked. We agreed that the questions should be simple questions with obvious right and wrong answers, that they shouldn't have room for opinions, or academic analysis and that they should avoid political slant. The list we developed included things like:

• What powers are the president explicitly granted in the constitution?
• How does a bill become a law?
• What rights does the bill of rights grant?
• What are the cabinet level agencies? Or maybe just what is the order of succession to the presidency through some number of cabinet secritaries. 
• What are the branches of the federal government?
• Who are the members of NATO?
• Who are the Members of the G8 and the G20?
• Name the 50 states and territories of the US?
• Who is the leader of Canada? of Mexico?
• What is the price of a gallon of gas? of milk?
• What is the corporate tax  rate?
• What is the salary an individual working full time at federal minimum wage?
• What are legal sources of funds for a corporation?

I am sure that there are others, and that some of these could be removed and, I will admit that I don't know the answers to all of these questions off the top of my head, but shouldn't the president? I don't think that knowledge should be the only factor taken into account, I think President Obama's struggles stem from lack of management experience which can't be codified in a test like this. But why aren't people demanding a basic knowledge, why aren't people embarrassed not to know these things.
In the case of Herman Cain he is running in part on the desire to shrink the federal government, encourage the states to take greater control of areas that the federal government has usurped. It seems to me that running on that platform you should be aware of what a massive undertaking it is to amend the constitution, that this is a legitimate limit on the federal government powers, that amending the constitution was intended to be difficult. If you don't recognize those things then your claim of government overreach is nothing more than political opportunism and that you are willing to overlook it when it suits your agenda. 
The problem is most voters nod and ignore, they refuse to see that ignorance won't serve them well. This is why failing my test wouldn't result in disqualification from office but some sort of visual shame, a funny hat? a miss-tailored suit? Ari Gould style super soaking? Something to get people to understand that this is a problem for efficiency and it is embarrassing.
Basically if children have to risk embarrassment to enter law school there should be a chin-up equivalent for becoming president.

Visiting Washington DC

It has been a couple of weeks since my mom visited me. I was so glad to have her visit, although the visit had a few missteps. Most notably my aunt who came down from New Jersey to spend the weekend with us got ill, and the weather was less than perfect but it was a nice visit none the less.
My Dad comes to DC frequently for work but this was the first time my mom had visited, in fact it was the first time I had ever been her hostess in any capacity an it was a nice experience. (I always lived in a dorm or my sorority house in college so there wasn't much of an opportunity.) I like hosting people and DC is a great place to have people visit me in, there is plenty to do, it is easy to get around and I know the city well enough that I can integrate a visit into my hectic life with [relative] ease. Sometimes I think that if the whole law school thing doesn't work out I will open a bed and breakfast, so I can bake scones and have visitors every day. (And then I realize that I would never have my house to myself and that dream dies.)  Generally visits are very different depending on who is coming to visit and why:
Business Trip: (usually my dad) generally he has a rental car and at least a few nice meals I can tag along on. Basically this is my opportunity to eat and live like I did before loans. Generally includes trips to home depot and target.
Tourist Visit: Someone who is excited to see me but also excited to have a tour guide. These trips involve a lot of walking and eating usually at place off the beaten path. Typically I get about a week behind in my work (which is entirely my fault, I will use any excuse not to read.) These trips offer an opportunity to see the sights I never see in my day to day life. Although I refuse to go to the Air and Space Museum, seriously you can't pay me.
My mom's visit didn't really fit into either of these categories. It was closer to a "here is a window into my real life." We made pizza and watched West Wing reruns, we went on a grocery run, and spent some time with my DC family. She helped me get my house a little more together. It was the perfect visit, and now I can look around my house and see little pieces of her. Thanks for visiting mom.

Like running on a treadmill whose speed you can't control.

I realize that I am a bit of a failure at this whole "regular updating" thing. But I do feel like I am jogging at an "eleven."
Life is a little insane this semester (and I understand that there isn't a person on the planet whose life isn't busy, but then I tell people what I have gotten myself into and they are like okay yea, you are busy.) This semester the following activities feel entitled to take up my time:

• Classes: Trademark 3 units, First Amendment 3 Units, Business Associations aka Corporations 4 units, Criminal Procedure 3 Units, Media Law 2 Units, Copyright Clearance 2 units.
• Job: Fifteen hours a week in Virginia. (In order to save time commuting I am totally imposing on my DC family and staying in their guest room one night many weeks.) Note to anyone choosing law schools if you go to school in an area where there are lots of intern opportunities the school year it means you have to be an intern during the school year. 
• Extended research paper of publishable (when did this happen?) quality.
• Intellectual Property Brief: One (short) article a month.
• IP symposium planning committee

And those are just the things that I have some pressure to actually go to. It doesn't include job applications, volunteer work and networking (all of which need to happen if I ever want to find a paying job.) It also doesn't include things like eating, sleeping, getting exercise, keeping the dog happy and cleaning the house.

Now I don't begrudge any of it, while I would like  a little more time to myself wouldn't we all and I signed up for it so I really can't complain. It isn't like I am in this boat alone, this is the life of a 2L, at least those of us who hope to be employable. 

So to answer my mother's questions: No I am not whining or complaining, but I am making excuses.  

An Act of God Clause

The last week has been a little interesting when it comes to natural events, I wish I could blame the earthquake or the hurricane on my lack of posting but really it is just the state of my life (between moving back to DC, school starting, ending one job and starting another, trying to maintain relationships and my sanity. Plus what seems to take more energy (especially emotional) than all else, applying for real jobs you know the kind that pay and therefore allow me to eat food that isn't Ramen and maybe one day pay of my debt. You know dream big.)

But now, after two unusual natural events if God is telling anyone anything it "Kate, write a blog post."* 

I was fine, survived both events with minimal impact or costs and generally feel like it wasn't that big of a deal. The East Coast seems to disagree with me, given that, on my vacation I have seen "I survived" t-shirts and it seems to still be a dominant topic of conversation with my classmates. I have come to the conclusion that east-coasters like to be able to plan their natural disasters, some of my fellow west coasters may disagree with me but I prefer not to know ahead of time.  As someone who was used to earthquakes I felt the shaking, braced myself, checked my surroundings, made sure there wasn't damage or bleeding and got back to work. The rest of the are didn't school (which is in a modern building) was evacuated for hours, metro operated at 15mph. 

Now I understand that the area doesn't get earth quakes so buildings aren't up to the same codes, but I like being prepared. (Also I lived in a "historic" read old and retrofitted building and we never evacuated during an earth quake. Which granted also has something to do with having an innate sense of what is a big deal quake and what isn't.) And I feel like in an area where most of your natural disasters happen with little or no warning people live like boy scouts. They are always prepared, I brought that with me, I have a first aid kit, a battery powered radio and enough food and supplies for a week plus. Going out prior to Irene hitting you would have thought that DC inhabitants lived with bare cupboards most of the time give the number and type of supplies they were buying. (Honestly, I could make some comparison to the Hill and people waiting till the last minute to do what needs to be done)

Mostly what struck me was the way people talked about and experienced these events. There was a level of discussion and frenzy about them stretching on either end that I just am not used to. For most of us living in DC these were relatively minor events, there was some damage to older buildings and we lost power, but not anything different than what you get with a rough winter storm. Mostly I just want to tell people to roll with the punches.

*If you didn't get the sarcasm and political reference, I am kidding god doesn't communicate with me through the weather. And if you want to be prepared here is a good place to start http://www.fema.gov/areyouready/.

Things My Job Has Taught Me: Part III (I am so incredibly lucky)

So this is another perspective post...
We have a large murder trial going on in court right now, it is gang related so security is pretty tight and everyone is a little jumpy. The worst part about the whole thing is the number of children involved: each of the two defendants have at least one child. The victim and most of the witnesses, many of whom were (legally) children when the murder occurred, have children. Most days we have four or five children in the courtroom who are anywhere from infancy to elementary school aged.
Now anyone who knows me knows my general tolerance for children is low, but really a child in a courtroom? It would be distracting and inappropriate in any circumstance (I am sorry there are some places that children don't belong, especially children who misbehave these include courtrooms, boardrooms, romantic restaurants and lecture halls.) And even if social mores and the rules of polite company don't bother you, do you really want your four year old listening to graphic shooting testimony or seeing autopsy photos blown up to life size?
I tend to be all for honesty and openness with children, I think that my parents treating me and my inquires with respect helped spring my intellectual curiosity. But there is something to be said for preserving childhood,  and I can't imagine that you have much in the way of childhood memories when you are exposed so young to the criminal justice system. It is by the luck of birth that I was born to an upper middle class white family and my first exposure to the law was visiting the Supreme Court at four. The archetype for me to mold myself to Earl Warren. I try to remember that not everyone has positive images and hope for their own future, that there are so many whose  model is absent or in shackles.