Back in D.C.

Well, I am back in DC. Have been since Friday evening. One reason I love the East Coast: It's like Europe -- in a few hours, you can be somewhere completely new, unlike in California (where I grew up), where five hours of driving in any one direction and... you're still in California. The Greyhound bus service is great for moving around the East Coast: cheap and easy. So I left Connecticut on Friday morning. Since I didn't really have a reason to rush back to DC, I decided to give myself a few hours in New York City (I had to make a connection there anyway to get the bus back to DC, so why not). I had hoped to meet up for lunch with some law school friends who are working as summer associates in NYC, but alas they have like, actual jobs right now, so they couldn't meet up. So it was just me.

I have to say, there is nothing quite like a day in the City to lift one's spirits. It was a perfect day, too: I got in around 11:00AM, and it was sunny out, slightly breezy, probably in the mid-70s and not humid. I inevitably ended up in Times Square again (because that is where the Port Authority bus terminal is and, let's face it, I always inevitably end up in Times Square when I am in New York, purposefully or not). Because, unless I am seeing theatre, Times Square is not my most favorite part of the city, I high-tailed it out, and walked north towards Central Park. I grabbed some lunch at a diner (it was "meh"), and then parked myself under the shade in Central Park, and proceeded to read my book. It was, in a word, delightful. I got to intermittently people-watch, which I always like to do in New York City. I would have liked to have walked around and explored more, but I was lugging a bunch of crap with me -- my heavy laptop case, my grocery bag of clothes, and my purse -- so walking around would have been both unpleasant and impractical. So I enjoyed the scenery and great weather instead. Central Park is like one of my favorite places in NYC anyway, so it was all good.

On my way to Central Park, I spotted The Soup Man, the restaurant that inspired the "no soup for you!" bit from Seinfeld

Central Park. How could you say "no" to this?

I love this town

New York City: always love to see you, always hate to have to leave you. I hope one day I can make it back, permanently.

Anyway, I am back in DC now. On Saturday, I went to a Washington Nationals game, against the Colorado Rockies. It was a sunny day, but holy hell was it hot. I had seats in the sun (naturally), so I even splurged and bought a Nationals baseball cap at the stadium so that my face wouldn't fry. Even then, about halfway through the game, I had to move into an empty seat in the shade, because I was starting to feel like I was getting heat sickness or something. Unfortunately, it was a bit too late, and while I didn't get heat stroke, the back of my neck and the tops of my shoulders got a bit cooked.

You know who else got cooked? The Nationals. I didn't get to the game until the top of the 3rd inning, and already the Rockies were up 3-0. Bad sign. The game ended up 7-1 Rockies; the Nationals only got their one home run in the 9th, and besides that, I can probably count on two hands the number of times a runner even got on base, through the whole game. It was kind of bad. The Nationals could neither hit, nor strike people out. The halves of innings where the Rockies were batting, probably lasted twice as long as the half of the inning where the Nationals were at bat. Too bad, so sad. Other than the heat and the outcome, though, it was fun to go to the game, and I am glad I went. You can do worse for $25.

Entering Nationals Park

Washington Nationals v. Colorado Rockies

Scoreboard. Not actually reflecting the sad state of the score of the game, however

In other news, I get to start my job tomorrow! Security finally came through. Won't be able to blog about the job, so this will be the last update on that front. But at least I can start, and this odyssey is over. Huzzah!

Escape from D.C.

On Tuesday of last week, I left D.C. The malaise and frustration of my job situation there (still not resolved) finally got to me, and I had to get out. Luckily, my boyfriend's family lives in Connecticut. Actually, it was my boyfriend's idea that I take time out from the District, as being there was driving me batty. His family very graciously let me crash with them. So I boarded a bus on Tuesday night, and Wednesday morning I was in Connecticut.

Connecticut has been a much-needed break. I pretty much have hung out with his family, who have been very gracious; it has been really nice to be around people I know and like-- I had been kind of isolated in D.C. I even got to go to his cousin's high school graduation (which made me feel really old. One of the high school graduate speakers noted that in the year that the class of 2013 was born, The Lion King movie came out in theatres. Holy crap, I *remember* seeing The Lion King in theatres with my family. How am I that old. Also: high school kids look *young*. Growing up, they always looked older to me; now, they look like kids. Wow.). I also saw an interesting interpretation of the musical Cabaret at a local theatre in town. It was pretty good, but super intense. If you don't know the show is about, it basically chronicles the dying of the liberal, Weimar Republic in 1920s-Germany, and the rise of the Nazis, as told by characters who work at and are involved with a burlesque cabaret. It's already an intense show (the emcee character always freaked me out), but the show ended with a directors-choice tableau of a bunch of corpse-like figures in rags heading in lines into a door with hazy gas emanating from the opening. Yeah, it went there. It was a strong choice, but definitely not one required by the show. My thoughts at the end of the show were pretty much along the lines of, "well, that escalated quickly."

Below are some of my pictures from the ten days that I was here.

One day, one of my boyfriend's aunts took me and boyfriend's kid sister to the beach. I had actually never been to the beach on the East Coast (save for Coney Island in New York, but even then I went for the rides, and didn't go to the beach). It was pretty much a perfect beach day -- sunny, a slight breeze, and warm. The water was still pretty cold, though -- too cold to go in much more than to my knees. But that was refreshing. And despite putting on 70-proof sunblock on three times in as many hours, I got a little well done on my shoulders. This is what you get for being of Scandinavian extraction -- a people who see the sun for maybe three months out of the year, and aren't built for, well, sun. Also known as, I be white (well now, my shoulders and arms are more of a pink/red color. Not that I will get a tan out of the deal). But otherwise, it was a perfectly gorgeous day, and the beach was lovely.

Beach at Rocky Neck State Park beach in Connecticut

I love the beach. A perfect sunny day

The other favorite thing that I did while in Connecticut, I actually did today. There is a small community farm in my boyfriend's hometown, so this morning and early afternoon, I walked over to the farm to see the animals. Animals always make me happier and lift my spirits when I am frustrated and feeling down (as I have been due to my job situation), so I thought it would do me good to go hang out there for a while. I stayed about an hour, and even got to pet a bunny! I took several photos of the cute animals.

Ain't nobody here but us chickens

There was even a rooster

Sheep! The sheep were my favorite. I want a sheep

They even had a black sheep (actually, they had two)

Llama. Didn't realize they were so big

Derp.

Alpaca. Herp Derp.

For a goose, this one was surprisingly chill. Didn't mind that I got within a couple feet of it to take the picture. Didn't even move

A Turkey. Looks like he survived the holidays unscathed

This little piggy went to the market, this little piggy stayed home...

Considering how calm and generally happy being around animals makes me, sometimes I think I missed my calling. Ah well, such is life, as they say.

Because I can't put off reality forever (nor can I mooch forever), tomorrow I head back to D.C. The bus route I am taking stops in New York City, so I am giving myself several hours to hang out in the city. New York City is always good for the soul, so I think having some time to hang out there will help me feel better about things. Man, I miss New York City...

Art and Law

This weekend, I actually did things. Things worth writing about. On Sunday, after meeting some people for lunch, I headed over to the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts, which is near George Washington University in Foggy Bottom (it is located at 2700 F Street NW). They have a program at the Kennedy Center called the Millennium Stage, which showcases short performances every day at 6:00PM (you can check here for their schedule of performances).

View of the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts

The performance I happened to see on Sunday ended up being something right up my alley (I hadn't really checked ahead or anything). It was a wind ensemble called the Fairfax Wind Symphony, performing selections from musicals! Including my all-time favorite musical, Les Miserables. It was a very nice event, and I thoroughly enjoyed the music. It was interesting to see how they arranged the music, both in terms of turning songs written for full orchestras into something that could be played by just wind instruments, and in terms of creating the arrangements so one song kind of flowed into another (they grouped the songs by what musical they were from, and created arrangements so what they played was really one piece comprised of pieces of the songs).

On Monday (I know, not technically the weekend. But since I am not working, it is basically the same thing), I actually got up early, and managed to get over to the Supreme Court of the United States (herein SCOTUS), in hopes of getting in to see the Justices render some opinions from the bench (and since there are several opinions in the pipeline that would be landmark cases, to see history). Apparently, though, not everyone who goes gets in to see the show -- it depends on seating capacity in the courtroom, which varies day by day due to a number of factors. After just barely getting in, (I was the first person they did not allow in to the courtroom after waiving in members of the public from the line. Then, at the last minute, they had more seats open up, so myself and a few others got to go)I saw them issue two opinions. Unfortunately, I actually don't remember their names. Also, I did not take a picture of the SCOTUS building because they are apparently working on cleaning the exterior marble, and so instead of the usual impressive facade, all that is there is a scrim with a print of the front of the building on it. Not exactly picturesque.

I did manage to get a picture of the Chief Justice John Marshall statute inside, however

The first opinion found that federal prosecutors cannot retroactively increase a convicted prisoner's sentence based on the federal sentencing guidelines, as the Court found that this would amount to ex post facto application of law and punishment. 6-3 decision, with I believe Thomas, Scalia and Alito in dissent.

The second opinion had to do with raisin growers in California, the 5th Amendment, and some obscure agricultural statute from the New Deal era. From what I could gather, it sounds like the Court found that raisin growers can raise constitutional arguments to enforcement of terms of the statute in front of the agency in charge of enforcing the statute. Unanimous decision.

If you are interested in seeing the SCOTUS, check their court calendar for more information. Here is their calendar for the October 2013 term.

View of Congress from the Supreme Court building

After finishing at the SCOTUS, I went across the street to the Library of Congress, because it is an epic and gorgeous building, and took photos. They really do not "do" subtlety in DC, do they?

The Library of Congress

The gorgeous interior of mosaic epicness

Finally, I went down to Alexandria, VA, again, to pick up the painted pottery that I created a few weeks ago. Behold my epic masterpiece...

Ta-da!

Miniver Cheevy, Creepy Doctor Who Angels, and Me

I came across this poem online tonight; aside from not being an alcoholic, I can relate to the mentioned character's predicament (although I feel like the poet takes a somewhat dim view of Miniver Cheevy, from the tone of the poem). I was born in the wrong time. I don't relate well to modernity, many of my morals and sense of justice are rather anachronistic, and I would rather have been born in another time (in the past). Apparently this feeling is rather common -- many people feel like this, others feel they were born too soon (not getting to benefit from future technology). Some people into spiritual things maintain that it is old souls from previous lives being unable to let go. Who knows? All I know is, I am Miniver Cheevy.

Miniver Cheevy

By E.A. Robinson

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,

Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;

He wept that he was ever born,

And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old

When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;

The vision of a warrior bold

Would set him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,

And dreamed, and rested from his labors;

He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,

And Priam's neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown

That made so many a name so fragrant;

He mourned Romance, now on the town,

And Art, a vagrant.

Miniver loved the Medici,

Albeit he had never seen one;

He would have sinned incessantly

Could he have been one.

Miniver cursed the commonplace

And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;

He missed the mediæval grace

Of iron clothing.

Miniver scorned the gold he sought,

But sore annoyed was he without it;

Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,

And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevy, born too late,

Scratched his head and kept on thinking;

Miniver coughed, and called it fate,

And kept on drinking.

Another symptom of my wistfulness for the past, is my wish that the Creepy Doctor Who Angels were a real thing. The Angels are recurring characters on the reboot of the British TV series, Doctor Who. They are creatures who are invisible when they attack you, but can only attack if they are not seen. If they are seen, they freeze in place and look like normal (or sometimes really scary looking) stone statutes. But their form of attack is what interests me: when they touch you, you "die" in the present, but that is only because they send you to some place and time in the past to live out the remainder of your natural life. Most people I know find the Angels really scary or freaky. I find them awesome and often find myself wondering aloud whether the Angels would be amenable to bargaining over where they send their "victims." Because I would totally let them zap me back without a fight. Also, apparently they are called "weeping angels."

Weeping angel in attack mode. Still failing to see how falling victim to one of these would be a bad thing

Link Round-up: Nice Things

There seems to be a lot of negativity in the world these days, and a lot going around to make people feel down. From violence and turbulence, to a non-existant job market while the loans stack up, sometimes (or often) it can be difficult to keep a positive disposition. Often when I am feeling frustrated (which seems to be, for me anyway, the most prominent negative emotion to surface lately), I go online to try to find distraction, and something reaffirm my faith in the world. So I am instituting a new feature to the blog, that will pop up from time to time: Link Round-up. Link Round-up will be a collection of five links to "things" found around the internet, with a mostly-positive theme attached to them (things that are funny, things that are cray-cray, etc.). Tonight's round-up are things that are "nice," as in things that when I saw them, I went "hey, that's really cool/nice." Without further ado:

Nice Things

1. Finding out that my friend Kathryn was selected as poet of the month. She also has a blog, which you can check out here.

2. Brazil using superheroes to fight pediatric cancer.

3. Ten year old owning it on America's Got Talent.

4. Finland starting new mothers out on the right foot.

5. Separated pets being reunited with their owners after the Oklahoma tornado.

On Kangaroos and Happiness

My languishing while I wait to start work has engendered a bit of insomnia on my part (not so much insomnia, more like I have nothing to wake up for, so I wake up later and thus go to bed later. It is a vicious cycle). So I have taken to YouTube as part of my late-night hanging out.

Last night I found myself on YouTube, watching a two-part, very good BBC documentary (side note: BBC always has consistently quality programming. Like seriously, why do they get Doctor Who and we get Keeping Up with the Kardashians? There is more quality programming on two BBC channels than the whole of American television. But I digress) about this hardcore, rugged Australian man who cares for and rehabilitates orphaned kangaroos at his sanctuary in the middle-of-no where outback. The two-part series was entitled Kangaroo Dundee, and aired on BBC a couple months ago, apparently. The man, Chris Barnes, lives in a literal shack (no electricity, a glorified Bunsen burner as his stove) on his land, where he cares for "'roos" for a living. Ever since the show aired, the guy has been getting thousands of dollars worth of donations, plus ten marriage proposals from random British women (and it is not hard to see why: six feet, seven inches tall, pretty attractive, rugged Australian man with a cool accent. Plus he tenderly cares for cute baby 'roos for a living, and is totally --and adorably-- devoted to them. It's like the perfect chick-attracting formula). The show was endearing to watch, sometimes made you laugh, sometimes cry. But it was just so heartwarming to see someone give his all to help helpless creatures, and to see the kind of happiness such a simple living caring for these animals brought to this man.

Which brings me to my main point: I have noticed something in watching a lot of animal videos and animal mini-documentaries on YouTube (did I mention I have a lot of time to kill right now). Namely, it seems like the people that work with these animals, which often entails giving up a lot of the "creature comforts" that those of us living in modern society have come to expect, seem to be a lot happier and a lot more fulfilled in what they are doing than the people who stay in the hubs of modern society, and pursue jobs and careers that allow them to try to keep up with all the "creature comforts" of that aforementioned society. "Kangaroo Dundee" doesn't have an easy life: he lives alone in the outback (a place, as Cracked.com likes to remind us, whose pass time seems to be devising ways to kill us), battling the elements (mostly for his 'roos, not himself), and has basically forgone most of what makes modern living "easy" (and hygienic). And yet watching the documentary, I could tell that he has found a peace and a satisfaction in his life that is very rarely seen. He seems to be "living" a lot more than a lot of people. I wonder that, in eschewing a traditional modern life, and in devoting himself to these animals, he has discovered something that all of us stuck in the endless cycles of job-bills-money-relationships-commitments-"having things" --the "treadmill" that you often hear modern society compared to-- are missing. And maybe can never have while we run the treadmill. Perhaps there is something to be said for the "simple life." Perhaps we really don't need all of this "stuff" -- and all of the things we are told we need to do to obtain said "stuff" -- that we are told we need.

I am not stupid. I know that I have been fully acclimated to the pace and standards of the modern Western society. I would probably freak out at not having electricity or a real stove. But then I remember being a kid -- and I mean a young kid, prior to middle school -- I always liked going out into the wilderness, or playing in the creek beds in the hills near my childhood home. Mud and dirt and all of that didn't bother me as much, and I think I was more tolerant of less-nice conditions. Over time, that became less and less true. I imagine this might be true for a lot of people. I wonder if, in this transformation as we grow up and adaptation to modern expectations, we don't lose something. I think most people would give an arm or a leg to be as contented as the guy in the Kangaroo Dundee documentary appears to be. May we all be as happy and fulfilled as Kangaroo Dundee.

Also, you should visit his website, and if you have the means, totally donate to his cause. Because, adorable kangaroos.

Book Review: The 13.5 Lives of Captain Bluebear

Still not working, I have spent a lot of my down time reading. Before leaving for DC I packed a recent acquisition with me, The 13.5 Lives of Captain Bluebear by Walter Moers. I had seen it in a used bookstore in Berkeley, CA, but the store was cash only and I had no cash on me. So i made a mental note of the book, and bought it online. Given the large amount of free time I have, even though it is roughly 700 pages, I have finished it.

As a side-note, reading for pleasure is such a welcome change. I don't know how long it has been since I have really read for pleasure, either due to time constraints or "reading burnout" from 90% of my out-of-class work being reading material. It is really nice to just read a great story. So I am grateful to this book for letting me rediscover the simple pleasure of just reading a story.

The Review:

The 13.5 Lives of Captain Bluebear is a novel written by German author Walter Moers. If I had to describe the book in one word, it would be: delightful. This novel is essentially a children's story for adults. I imagine that children would like it as well, but it also should appeal to any adults who still retain child-like wonder at a good story.

My copy of The 13.5 Lives of Captain Bluebear

Part fantasy, part adventure story, the novel tells the tale of Bluebear, a blue bear who lives on the mythical continent of Zamonia. It tells the story of the first half of his life -- or rather, the first 13.5 of his 27 lives as a Bluebear (as all Bluebears have 27 lives). A "life" in the story is essentially a chapter in the novel, each chapter describing a distinct time, in a distinct place, where Bluebear got into a distinct adventure. The reader follows Bluebear as he goes through all of these stages of the first 13.5 periods in his life, from adventure to adventure.

This is not a profound novel in the way that something by an author like Kafka or Cormac McCarthy is "profound." It does not to aspire to pretensions of being the next great work of literature. But in its own unassuming way, it is, because the author gives over completely to a world of uninhibited imagination. And he is able to do so through compelling storytelling such that the reader cares about the characters, even though they are wacky and fantastical, such as the blob-like alien Gelatine Prince Qwerty from the 2364th dimension. I have read a lot of books and novels and short stories; I tend to be kind of an at-arms-length reader, so I often don't get personally invested in (or react to) the characters any more than a standard reader would in order to enjoy the story. That being said, in all those stories and books, I have rarely had such a palpable dislike or outright hostility towards a character, than I had towards one of the main villains in the novel, a equally fantastical and not-at-all-real Trogolotroll. I think that the fact that the author can elicit such emotion and response from readers to characters who, by their basic external descriptions, are patently absurd, is a testament to the compelling strength and effectiveness of Moers' storytelling, plot and character development. The novel succeeds because while it maintains an almost childlike creativity in putting the world of Zamonia to paper, it manages to realistically convey experiences and emotional responses to those experiences that the adult reader would recognize from our own world. As a law student who spends her days in the mire of the very real reality of everyday life, of always looking at the world through the lens of the completely logical and sound, escaping to this world of gleeful non-logic and zaniness, was a welcome and much-needed break. As a law student or lawyer, you sometimes get moments where you can be creative (think of defenses like "the Twinkie defense"), but don't often get moments where you can imagine. I thank this book for allowing me to do so.

Other reviewers of the book (on Amazon.com) have said that the novel is stylistically and structurally similar to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and that if the reader enjoys Hitcherhiker's, he or she will enjoy Bluebear. Having never read Hitchhiker's, I cannot attest to the validity of this statement. But, I can say that if you are an adult who enjoys stories that celebrate imagination, that give over to the fun of storytelling, while all the while retaining something fundamentally and recognizably "human" in the experiences it relates, then you will enjoy this novel.

The novel is, as I said, a bit over 700 pages, but is actually a pretty quick read. The language is not complicated, and it is quick-paced. It is also interspersed with equally delightful illustrations of the characters and Zamonian landscape, which cuts down on the actual word-length of the novel.

Example of Moers' whimsical illustrations. From page 276

Overall, I would give the book 8.5/10.