Battle Cry of an Iconoclast

Hello. My name is Kristin, and I am an iconoclast.

And no, I don't mean those old religious people who like 500 years ago were against images of God or whatever. I mean, over the last several years, I have developed a world-view that in many ways, goes against currently-accepted social thought. Some of that thought is relatively recent neo-liberal doublethink, some of it is 1000s of years of human thought. Which means, I will probably at some point in my life hurt/piss off/offend people who have bought into any of the above. I honestly don't know what to do; I don't hold any of these beliefs in malice or to harm anyone. I hold these beliefs because at my core being, the one principle I hold above all others, is that humans were and are meant to be free. That humans have a right and deserve to be free. Honestly, that is why I am interested in criminal law: I believe that criminals take from others that right. I don't construe freedom as, "let's all just run wild like hyenas." I construe freedom as the ability to choose the definitions and experiences of one's own life, in ways that do not palpably harm another (in terms of physical violation or property violation; I get off the boat at "emotional distress" or "offense.") But, I feel like not so many people--friends, family, loved ones, co-workers-- will not be so understanding of my beliefs, and will some how take it personally that I hold them. So, I guess this is in my in-advance apology. If I say or do anything to upset you out of these beliefs, know that I do it not because I think less of you, but because just as some cling fervently to their religion or their country or their politics or their cause, this desire for freedom is my religion. I cannot let it go any more than the Pope can let go of his faith.

So, here are some of the things I believe, that will probably make me a social pariah. Alas.

1. Religion. Why? Why should I construe my life or behavior according to what some guys (because let's be real, most religions were written by men) wrote down a long time ago? This isn't even getting to the question of whether a god or gods exist (although, its existence wouldn't change my belief; if a god or god-like power exists, it has shown itself to be a tyrant of sorts, and goes against humanity's right to freedom and self-determination). I am totally willing to admit that when they wrote the rules, many--perhaps most-- came out of the practical needs and realities of the time and societies in which they arose. Great. But times change, people change, society changes and moves on. Why should the dictates of 500, 2000, 4000 years ago still be relevant to my life, to my own sense of morality? Obviously, there are the basics: don't lie, don't steal, don't kill anyone. But beyond that, so much has changed. The world is not at all structured the way it was back in the day. I think the core of religions is basically, "don't be a jerk." Beyond that, why should it matter if my hair shows, if I eat meat on Fridays, if I use birth control, if I get married, if I don't get married, if I have one partner, if I have many?

2. The "American work ethic." I believe in hard work, I believe in believing in what you do, and trying to do it to the best of your ability. I believe that what you put into life, you should get out of it, but you should not just be handed things. That being said, I disagree with this mentality (not helped by the shitty economy) that you will or should jump through whatever hoops your boss puts in your way. I don't think working 80,90 hours a week is healthy. I don't think being "on call" 24/7 is healthy (thank you, Crackberries and SmartPhones). I also don't think being a lazy bum is healthy. This kind of goes along with the idea of, "everything in moderation." Take pride in your work, and do it well. But I refuse to sacrifice meaningful relationships (or, perhaps more urgently, my mental or physical health) for a job.

3. The problem of the "work-life balance" in America. Now, all of the following is heresy, but I have heard that a lawyer friend of the family who lives and works in Paris (he is French), doesn't take his work laptop with him on holiday. "Work is work, and vacation is vacation." And, at least as far as I can tell, his bosses and clients are just kind of...fine with that. In China, apparently, the family would be totally chill if you missed Granny's funeral because some major thing came up at work. Try pulling that in this country, and you will never hear the end of it, from both ends. "Where is the memo?" "Why weren't you at Bobby's State Championship hockey game?" Sometimes, I have this fantasy of putting my family, my boss and my clients into one room, and giving them the following speech: "Sometimes, I have to work, even when important things come up with the family. Other times, I have to be with the family, even if shit is blowing up at work. Sometimes, I will choose work over family. Sometimes, I will choose family over work. And all of you (pointing and squinting)... will just FUCKING DEAL WITH IT AND NOT GIVE ME SHIT ABOUT IT. Thank you. That is all." Because in both situations, we have people who are counting on us, whose very lives may be at stake at one time or another. And often times, there will be impossible conflicts, and you have to choose. That's compromise. That's life. Is it really so hard for the relevant parties to even try to understand?

4. Marriage/monogamy/til death do us part. Apparently, biological humans (homo sapien sapiens) have only spent about 5% of their history in long-term monogamous relationships (probably helped by the fact that tree-people humans croaked at age 25). Only 3-5% of all animal species are in paired-off relationships. It was a combination of thinking about all the recent celebrity sex scandals, the ridiculously-high divorce rate (and higher rate of infidelity, often leading to divorce), and a monologue in The Iceman Cometh, where this one character talks about how radical Marxism echews traditional marriage or relationship structures, because they are based on property and ownership, got me thinking. Forget for a moment that a bunch of recent research suggests humans are actually biologically programmed for, essentially, stable-ish relationships with a bit on the side. Fuck biology, because as people will argue, humans are cognitively able to overcome their base biological urges/instincts/etc. I think just from a freedom perspective, the Marxists may have a point (one of the few things on which they do). Isn't the whole idea that while in a relationship, married or not, the partners somehow "belong" to each other, kind of sick? This kind of goes along with number one, on religion. Historians, anthropologists, biologists suggest that monogamy arose as a response to the development of agricultural societies and the need to know "who da baby-daddy" for property-transfer interests. It arose in a situation where women and children were entirely dependent on the man, so you needed to know who was responsible. At least in the West, while not perfect by any means, we are more or less out of that kind of situation. And, back in the day, people croaked young. Now, the "ideal" sets us up for marriages or partnerships of 30, 40, 50, 60 years of being with the same person, and never shall you touch another. That seems very...wrong, in a way. Or it does to me. 50 years is a long time.

So now the idea is that you should and can only ever love one person at a time-- emotionally, physically, etc. But is this right? Are people fundamentally incapable of having a meaningful, loving relationship with more than one person? Why should they be? Love-- and I don't just me the freaky kind (although I think there is something to be said for the proven human biological need for a variety of physical sexual experiences), I mean the real, emotional connection people can have-- is one of the greatest things there is; why should it be limited to one person at a time? And why does it necessarily follow that if you feel such a connection for one person, feeling that for another will somehow take away from your feelings towards the first? I am not saying we should have a license to be irresponsible, because there are concerns over disease and the like. But are we really helped by the fact that people, while living the "fantasy" ideal relationships, have been dinking around with others forever-- and then lying about it, such that disease is more likely to be spread (syphilis in Europe circa 1900s, anyone)? I am not an idiot or a hypocrite; I admit I would be upset if someone "cheated" on me. But is this natural? Is this really the way it should be? Or have we been socially conditioned to think that such infidelity is some kind of personal insult, and not just the expression of the ultimate human need to love and be loved? I love my boyfriend, and I have never and would never do any of the above because we are in a relationship, because I know it would hurt him. And he is the last person on Earth who deserves to be hurt. But, perhaps we are doing ourselves a disservice-- and unintentionally caging those we love most-- by construing love, relationships, and marriage the way society has conditioned us to see and understand them. The strong are the ones who can keep trucking through, and "fight upstream" against the natural current, out of their love for another. My question is, why should this be a battle to begin with?

4. Political correctitude. Don't even get me started. I am going to throw something at the next person who says "diversity" or "sustainable" at me. Why? Not because I am inherently against these ideas, but because all these BS platitudes are kind of a way to curtail freedom of speech and expression. While liberals will tell you that things like calling handicapped people "differently abled" is a way to have them "own" their situation, I can tell you where it actually leads. I am even willing to accept the good intentions of these PC people. But, "the path to Hell is paved in good intentions." Because what it sets up, is a certain vocabulary of "accepted speech." Because to buy into the PC term du jour, you have to buy into its foundation, which is essentially that no one should be made to feel uncomfortable or offended or insulted, ever, for any reason. Not for their race, religion, career, social status, sex, sexual orientation, physical disability, political views, etc. etc. I am not saying go out on the street and start throwing gratuitous slurs and insults towards people. But the idea that everyone should be shield from uncomfortable or confrontational speech, is basically the antithesis of freedom of expression, freedom of speech, which-- at least at one point-- were considered in this country foundational, fundamental human rights. And how far down the road of unaccepted speech will it go? At what point is "bad" speech not just calling someone the "N" word, or a "slut," a "wop," "fag," and into absurdities like, you can't call someone fat or even "big" (even if they are objectively overweight) because that word has a negative connotation. Or "short," even if it is objectively true, because that has a negative connotation? Or "poor?" You see where I am going with this? It becomes absurd, to the point where we can't express anything disagreeable at all. Which is unnatural. And turns into a situation that is a lie. Like that episode of the Twilight Zone where the whole town always has to say creepily positive things or this demon kid will kill them with ESP. People --humans-- have a range of emotions, anger and calm, love and hate, passion and collective contemplation. And to be truly free, humans need to be able to express these things (obviously, not in wildly inappropriate ways, like beating the crap out of someone or shooting them). But forgive me for being contrarian, but I do not think there is anything fundamentally wrong with given someone a good, old-fashioned, possibly insulting bitch-out, if needed. It is part of what makes us human. Deny us one half of our emotions, and we lose part of our humanity.Or what about political speech? Go too far down the road of the idea of "accepted speech" and "unaccepted speech" in politics, and, well, I hope you enjoy going to "Dear Leader" rallies and goose-stepping.

5. "Being green;" aka, OMFG CLIMATE CHANGE WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! Quick, let's go back to living in trees. I am not one of those people who will categorically deny that climate change is happening. I also will not categorically accept it as gospel truth. Because I am not a scientist, I haven't done any tests, I haven't done the studies, I wouldn't know how to do the research. But, I feel the subject is so politicized, and everyone has some kind of ideological axe to grind, it is really hard to trust studies-- on either side, yay or nay, as objectively truthful. But, in the end, it doesn't matter. Perhaps this is more nihilist than iconoclast, but the climate is going to change eventually. Hotter or colder, it doesn't matter. It was going to happen. And if humans are contributing, we are only speeding up the inevitable. So why are we running around like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to figure out how to make our lives less enjoyable for the sake of the "environment." I don't think we should allow the planet to turn into a toxic waste dump, because I enjoy, um, breathing. But, c'mon California. Banning fireplaces? People have been burning wood for millennia. This is not the cause of our problems, such as they are. And fireplaces make life more enjoyable. I know! We should make people buy "Carbon credits" for breathing, since breathing produces greenhouse gasses. And there are almost 7 billion of us on the planet. That's a lot of CO2. And what about the animals? They all breathe. And there are a hell of a lot more of them than us. We should tax them, too. I kind of liken it to one of my other personal life philosophies: I would rather live to 70 living an enjoyable if not entirely healthy lifestyle, than live to 90 by eating leaves and exercising 4 hours a day. Life's short, life's tough, we have but a moment on this Earth, why sweat the things we cannot control, and stop denying ourselves the petty, small enjoyable things?

Well, by now I have probably upset or worried or pissed off whoever is reading this in at least one way. My apologizes. No, I am not depressed. I actually quite like bopping around this Earth; I just wish it could be more on my own terms. Perhaps I have just picked up too much philosophy in my education, and in my overly-introspective mind, have used that to turn what I see into, "all the ways by which people put themselves into boxes, either individually or collectively." If you couldn't tell, I am much more of an individualist than a collectivist.

Well, now that I have told you more of my world-view than you ever needed to know, I must retire as I have work tomorrow. A work, by the way, that I quite enjoy. I am actually having a bang-up time in NYC; I don't want to leave. This is not a screed of, "life sucks," so much as a, "how could life be better?" Didn't Socrates say something about the unexamined life?

Goodnight all, and I hope you days are filled with true choice and freedom.

Non serviam

Well, another exciting day at my parents' home in California. And by exciting day, I mean a day of uploading my mom's CDs to iTunes on her new iMac, and setting up the new printer, and just generally performing various IT-related tasks. I fear this is going to become a regular occurrence, even when I am not around, since my dad-- the usual household IT person-- doesn't know anything about Macs. Alas.

I alluded to this in an earlier blog post, but its reality seems to become particularly underscored whenever I am home: I *really* don't like being told what to do. And I pretty much try to order my life around figuring out ways to just "do my thing." Lately, for a variety of reasons, I have had cause to notice that everywhere one goes, it seems like someone-- who may or may not have the authority to do so-- is trying to tell everyone else what to do, how to think, how to act. Everything from at the personal level with my parents, to the macro level of, now legislatures want to start imposing a "fat" tax on "unhealthy" food. Seriously? Are you kidding me? It seems all one ever runs into are opinions-- as the saying goes, like assholes, everyone has one. But more than just opinions. People want to make their opinions, their own conception of "right and "wrong," laws-- as if they know others better than those people know themselves, and must make everyone follow what they think is right. That they know how to and must "save" people from themselves. A: it's not anyone else's job, responsibility, or really, ability, to save anyone else from themselves. I call bullshit. If someone needs saving, it needs to come from within, ultimately. And the essence of freedom, is the ability to make choices-- both bad and good-- and live with the consequences. Take away choice, even if just "bad" choices, and you take away freedom. I don't know-- maybe people don't value individualism or freedom anymore; it does seem like we are living in a more "collectivist" mindset society (which is also bullshit). But I value freedom, I value my ability to live and let live. I can't even think about it too much, because then I just get really pissed off. I start feeling more and more like a fricking hamster in a cage, with nothing but the wheel going round and round, unable to escape from unending meddling, unwanted "advice." Sometimes, I just want to scream. It just ain't living. And yet there is no escape, save for maybe getting on a plane to Vanuatu. Perhaps I am one of the last bastions of thought that puts a premium on the individual over the collective, perhaps I am part of a dying breed. Perhaps no one will agree with me. But seriously, where can anyone go anymore to truly be free?

I guess my whole life philosophy can be summed up in two words: non serviam. For those of you not familiar with Latin and/or Milton, its basic translation is "I will not serve." Which incidentally basically sums up why I don't follow any religion. But that is a very hard philosophy to follow in this day and age. Maybe it always was. Maybe for all the Enlightenment and post-Enlightenment talk about freedom, rights, and the individual-- maybe it really was all pipe dreams, maybe it really was a type of lie, or at least wishful thinking. Maybe true freedom never existed, and can never exist. Well, now I am starting to sound like Eugene O'Neill. Oh well. At any rate, I still want "non serviam" as an epitaph (and no, again this is not a veiled threat. I am just one of those weird people who thinks about things like this).

Or maybe I am just broody because in a lot of ways, I am not content with where I am right now, in life. I was flipping through a catalogue today called Great Courses, which is literally a catalogue of a term's worth of college lectures on a myriad of different subjects. Being the geek I am, I found like, 5 courses at least that I would want to order, just because they sounded interesting. I could learn cools things just for the joy of learning, without having to worry about tests or grades or any of that bullshit. Learning for the sake of knowing more, learning for the sake of curiosity, not as the means to some calculated career end. And then it hit me: yes, I really should have gone into academia. Not as a professor, but as a researcher, or a curator, or something involved in just learning, of gathering and keeping information. At heart, I am a bookish nerd. I like to study things, and I like to do it just to do it, and I am tired of it all being compromised by the other considerations of grades, class rank, etc.

In other life news, I got my summer job assignment. Sounds like it should be interesting; I got my first choice of division, and one can do worse than chilling in NYC for the summer. But what happens after? Still no more interviews, no job offers. Am beginning to lose hope. I really don't know what I want or need any more. I am very envious of those people who always knew what they wanted to be when they grew up. I was never one of them, I don't think. I also know now why I like history so much: my own life bores me to tears, I like learning about people who seemed to have interesting lives (it's why we know about them now), or thinking about societies long ago and far away, that seemed much more interesting than the one in which I now currently live.

I guess this post is a little depressing tonight, so I will end it. I guess I am in a broody, philosophical mood tonight. One of the "Great Courses" I wanted to take was on Existentialism, lol. I think being broody is an occupational hazard of being introspective, which I have always been.

As a parting shot, however, I came across this quote from Emily Dickinson. Although not at all really related to tonight's subject matter, it struck me as very personally relatable. So I thought I would share it with you all. Enjoy, and have a good night.

One need not be a chamber to be haunted;

One need not be a house;

The brain has corridors surpassing

Material place

The Truth Shall Set You Free

Since outlining for a class is mind-numbingly boring, I am taking a sanity break and... adding a post.

So, actual life updates today.

First, I talked to my Mom today, after a week of not talking after the "big revelation" last Sunday. I don't know if we were actually not talking, or if we just didn't have any reason to call each other. It was suitably ambiguous. But, since I am flying home in less than a week, and since I needed to know things like their schedule (They are going to this retreat thing my dad's law firm does every year; they are actually leaving the day I get in [which of course no one tells me until after I book the plane tickets], but I was not sure when they were getting back. I felt like this was pertinent information to know). So I called my mom.

It was actually a very normal, civil conversation, not unlike most every conversation I have with my mom over the phone. I guess since a week had passed, tensions or emotions had cooled. Or something. Now that everything regarding my living situation and life-freakout was out in the open, I was actually able to have an adult conversation. And I found out a few things that I was not expecting, mostly about the boyfriend living situation.

First, my mom did not object to, or really question, my desire to move out of the Streeterville area (area right around school), which surprised me because they had been really reticent about my having to commute to school. But once I (calmly and rationally) explained that A) the entire area around school is becoming a construction zone and the noise from that plus the constant sirens (I live next to Northwestern Memorial Hospital) is grating on my nerves, B) that even just north of the Gold Coast and Streeterville, in Lincoln Park, I could get a 2 bedroom apartment for what this studio is costing me/them, and C) that I would be looking for places with pretty much direct access to direct lines of public transportation... she was just sort of, fine with it. And, counter to what I had thought, she didn't really say anything against the fact that I would be looking for a place with Justin. Her only concern was that she thinks we should get a two bedroom, and not for the *ahem* reason I would have thought: she was concerned that without my own space/room, I might be distracted from work if boyfriend comes home from work and starts watching television or something, while I have to work. Which is a legitimate concern, although a one-bedroom if the walls are thick enough should do about the same. And she sounded appreciative of the fact that boyfriend would be around during the summer to look at places, if I am not. And of the fact that now that boyfriend is out in the open, he can start paying rent, and thus cost them less money.

I asked Mom how Dad reacted to the news. He had known about life-crisis, but not boyfriend. I was honestly afraid how he would react-- how both of them would react, which is why I kept it a secret for a while. Mom said he wasn't super thrilled, but again for not the reason I would have thought: he is apparently worried that having boyfriend around, if boyfriend is free while I have crap to do, will be a distraction from doing my crap. Which I suppose is fair, but also easier to reason with: boyfriend may be somewhat of a "distraction" from work (except he often makes me do my work in an efficient manner, rather than lollygag on Facebook, so that we can hang out), the fact that there is two of us and we split the chores, means I have to spend less time keeping the place up, which frees more time for work. I cannot tell you how much time I have saved because boyfriend cooks dinner.

I felt bad because when I admitted that the reason I had not told my parents about living situation, was because I was afraid of what my parents might do to me (disown me, disinherit me, banish me from ever seeing boyfriend again... in retrospect, yeah I was a bit melodramatic), Mom sounded kind of hurt. Like she said she wished I knew them better than that. Which is 100% fair. Honestly, even though we've our differences in the past-- sometimes, pretty epic differences-- they have never not supported me or stopped me from being part of their life. I guess a lot of my problem, is that I fear, and expect, the worst-case scenario. In pretty much everything. Always kind of have, even as a kid. And I spend a lot of time worrying about and ordering my life such that I avoid the worst-case scenario, even if objectively, it is not rational to expect that the worst case scenario would happen. And in this particular instance, it was really hard (at least for me) to tell how "bad" this would be, from my parent's standpoint.

I feel like that early-20s, right-out-of-college, still-dependant-on-my-parents thing, is kind of an awkward dance. Neither party really knows what the other is going to do, think or say about something. It's awkward for me, because I don't really know where my asserting independence is crossing a line-- if there even is a line to cross-- and somehow spurning my parents. And I think it is awkward for them, I think, because they I think are trying to figure out what their role or what they should do re: me, now that I am "an adult." On some things I obey, others I don't; on some things they insist, others they don't. But it is unpredictable-- for either party-- to know when that will happen, or if it should. Basically, the early, right-out-of-college period is a time where the parent-child relationship is in a period of flux and redefinition, and it is...stressful. From my end of it, it is hard because it is a moment where I am trying to establish myself as an adult in the world, but am not so established that I don't worry about what my parents will do or say. I know several other people who are in similar living situations as I was in: either actually or de facto living with an S. O., unknown to their parents. I wonder how many of them would be surprised at their parents' reaction or concerns, if they told them. I wonder how many of us young-adult children actually know our parents as people, rather than as the specter of Our Parents. Perhaps that is what makes the difference.

So, I learned two things today: First, the truth shall set you free. It has been an enormous relief to get this in the open, to not have the constant stress and guilt of lying to my parents. And, now that it is out in the open, I was able to have a rational, adult conversation with my mom about what the most economical and beneficial living arrangement/location would be. That included my boyfriend. Second, people-- including parents-- will continually surprise you. You think you know someone, how they think and will behave in a situation, and that things will be awful. And then it isn't. And they don't behave they way you thought. You realize that you don't know them as well as you thought and/or didn't give them enough benefit of the doubt. That you should trust people more, should have more faith in them. Particularly about those who care about you: 99% of the time, they are just worried about you and while they may disagree, won't do anything that would irrevocably screw you over.

Second, the job hunt isn't going so well. I haven't heard from any places I have applied, and for some places it is getting on two, two and a half weeks. I sent email "checkins"/ I-am-interested-please-give-me-an-interview about a week after I sent the first round. Still nothing. I have to send some more tomorrow, and apply to this one other job I have been looking at. Boyfriend is pestering me to make check-in phone calls. Ugh. I know he is right, but I have had this life-long phobia of "cold-calling" when there is not an already established reason to call, or pre-established relationship between the parties. And to me, cold calling after submitting a job app doesn't qualify. Even when I was applying to law schools, I never once called. I only sent a lot... a lot... of update/I am still interested letters and emails. It seems like I am pestering people, and I have this fear of pissing people off on the phone. Completely crazy, I know. But since when have phobias ever been rational? So it looks like I will be in NY this summer after all. Which I guess is probably a good thing. If I am trying to get as much information as possible about what I actually want to do with my life, and about my options, I suppose it is probably good that I get into the day-to-day practice of law, to see a) if I actually like it and thus have motivation to slog through motivation, because I see something worthwhile on the other side or b) if I hate it and, "oh hell no." And, as much as I wish I could take a year or two, if I am honest with myself, it looks like I will probably be back for year 2 at the end of the summer.

I don't know... now that I am almost at the end of finals and have made a mental switch such that I no longer hold myself to an all-A(- as lowest),honors, top 10%, etc., standard, or just put so much importance on grades, the school thing is looking less bad. But I burned out harder than I ever have before...like to the point that I wasn't doing things I was supposed to be doing, and didn't give a shit. And I have kind of made that mental switch: I don't want to be perfect, or even "successful;" I just want to be happy, whatever that ends up meaning for me. And even if I do end up deciding that the law will do that for me, I am afraid I will be missing out if I don't take time off. I'm afraid I would be missing out on a time in my life where I could be a little more chill, a little less stressed, and have more free time to figure myself out, and to do things I enjoy, unencumbered by worries over what I *should* be doing instead. I'm afraid I won't get the time to figure out what I need and want, by just going through school. Because so much of school is about pushing through to the next finish line, not looking around at where you are going. I am worried that, even if I decide that the law is it for me, going through law school right into practice (which is stressful, always a deadline, many hours), I will never not have a period in my life where I was not a stressed out, type-A neurotic person trying to get everything done...at least until retirement, whatever decade that happens to be. And honestly, I think I will come to resent it down the line. In a way, I already do.

I think a lot my parents' generation, influenced by their parents', looked at the suburban home, the white collar job and high-five or six figure salary, the corporate and upper middle class life, and said "this is it." I think more people in my generation-- influenced, I think, by the promises (work hard, go to college, do well, and you will get a good job and be successful; you can do and be what you want) rendered largely false by the Great Recession-- are looking at all that and saying, "Is this it?" Happiness doesn't really depend on your salary, or job title, or what car your drive. Having a job that allows me to stay off food stamps, puts a safe roof over my head, and keeps clothes on my body, is all that is really required. Everything else is perks. Happiness comes-- and will only come-- when I find something that makes me want to get out of bed in the morning.

That's all for tonight.

One closing thought, though. Completely unrelated, but I saw a quote today that struck me as incredibly true. And is something I hope can ultimately be said about me.

"You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, some time in your life."

~ Winston Churchill

Explanations

So, after last night's word vomit, I decided that I should lay out some parameters and expectations (or something) for this blog, as well as explain some not-as-obvious stuff about my choices in making this blog.

1. I solemnly swear that no post will ever be as long as the one from last night, from here on in (unless something particularly epic happens, but somehow I doubt that even that will warrant another War and Peace). And, posts from now on will most likely be more thought and reflection, less narrative. But I figured the narrative was needed, or none of the thoughts going forward would make much sense.

2. The name of the blog. Perhaps seemingly kind of random for the purpose of the blog. Well, the explanation is as follows: particularly in the last couple years, I have found that many completely unexpected and surprising things have happened to me, many of them counter to logical expectations (exhibit A: getting into the law school I am at, being in Chicago again). Whenever I tell these stories of inexplicable randomness, I tend to end it with, "So... that happened," to convey the sense of surprise and, "wtf." Since this blog is all about big, perhaps unexpected changes, and following unanticipated paths, I figured "So... That happened" would be as appropriate a title as any. I feel it expresses the sentiment and unplanned-ness of the current moment of my life.

3. The baby in the picture? It's me! Wasn't I just cute as a button? This was a picture of me in the bathroom of our house in San Fran, of which I only really remember the stairwell. So lay your fears to rest, that is not any kid of mine (god no). Also, unrelated, I was going to ask the rhetorical question, "aren't those baby clothes 80s-tastic?" But then I realized something: all baby clothes still basically...look the same. It's like baby fashion rocketed away from that frilly crap from the Victorian age and early 20th century (that made even male babies look like girls), and then didn't progress for the next 30 years. I wonder why this is... But I digress.

4. A little about me, that might make my approach to this blog when I write, make more sense. This is actually a fairly recent epiphany, and I re-posting this from what I wrote on my Facebook page.

I have had a realization about myself: Despite the fact that I am a generally boring person, a so-called high achiever who can count the number of times I have had a drink on two hands, maybe one, I have a deep-seated dislike and resentment of authority. My disdain for religion can be traced to it, as can my disdain for political correctness, and all the problems I had while living in my sorority house. I at once order my life to please those in authority, but also to make it such that I am my only true master. I want financial independence faster, and when I get eventually get married I will maintain my own bank account. I guess I figure, since I am not engaged in anything illegal, and try and make it a point to "live and let live," I shouldn't have to conform my actions to what others-- individuals, groups, ideologies-- think is "right." I don't gratuitously go around trying to make something of it, and in most things I conform, but I will always be trying to do what I can to maximize my personal freedom. Total and complete individualism ftw.

So, that's about it. I now have to engage in a massive clean up of my apartment, pay rent, and then start studying for my Jurisprudence final. Whoo! May also apply to another job for today. Also unrelated, I find coding in html annoying. Just thought I would throw that one out there. Ciao!

In the beginning...

So, I decided to start this blog, because I am in a period of transition. And I think a lot. And I am opinionated. And I like to share what is on my mind, come hell or high water. Basically, this blog is going to be chronicling my attempts to figure out, what exactly it is that I am going to want to do with my life, and what I want out of it. According to the three self-help books I have ordered from Amazon, this is my "quarter-life crisis." All of this takes place against the backdrop of my living the "young urban" life in Chicago, one of the three greatest cities in the U.S. (NYC of course, and San Fran will always have a special place in my heart).

But a lot has already happened. So instead of diving right in (because that would be confusing to you, the reader), first some background.

I was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, in a town that was part of the massive suburban sprawl that is Silicon Valley, the name of which you probably wouldn't know if I told you. Actually did live in San Fran for the first couple years of my life, but I don't remember it. My upbringing was solidly suburban, upper-middle class.

When I hit 18 and graduated high school, I wanted to try something new, a new place. Much to the chagrin of my father, I didn't even consider applying to Stanford, because while excellent, it was literally a 5 minute walk from my high school. So in September 2007, I packed up my bags and headed east to Chicago (technically Evanston), and started four awe-some years at Northwestern University. I was an Art History and French major and, if I may say, damn good at it. Sometime in the middle of my junior year, after I had returned from 4 months in Paris, France, I decided that I wanted to go to law school. For a lot of complicated reasons-- my parents were both lawyers, I had become a much more political person, I felt like I wanted to go on a vendetta against criminals and terrorists, there was a lot of tie-in to my personal life philosophy, I thought it would be a good way to tie in my French major, if I could get into an international law position, and I figured I could travel a lot. So come fall of my Senior year, I took the LSAT and applied to (in retrospect, too many) schools. Got wait listed to way more than outright accepted or rejected (Yay combo of high GPA and 'meh' LSAT score). (Very) long story short, I didn't know where I was going to end up until July 29, 2011, about 2.5 weeks before orientation. For a while I was going to Virginia, then Boston...ultimately, things came total full circle, and I ended up back in Chicago.

So, I started law school. And I must say, my school does a very good job of making law school suck as little as possible, particularly 1L. No one razors stuff out of books in the library, and people are like generally pretty nice, even the "gunners." I actually met a pretty solid group of people in my section, and we became both study group partners and friends. Oddly, perhaps, I was more casually social in law school than I had ever been in college. I went out more.

But, I was still swamped in work. A lot. I never pulled an all-nighter for school until February-March of this year, and then I pulled like 2 in 3 weeks. Much to my surprise, I didn't suck at the academic side of it. At least not according to my first term grades... we shall see about this term. For a while I actually really liked it... the first semester was kind of a blur of collective 1L freak-out about what we were doing, how to do it, our grades... because honestly, no one had a clue. And in a way, it was kind of fun. We were all in the same boat. And then once I got my first term grades, I was over the moon. Did better than I ever thought I would, which increased my positive feelings towards law school.

But, towards the middle of the second semester, after the "holy shit I didn't fail" feeling from getting my grades started to wear off, some of the doubts that had been swimming in the back of my mind started to surface. Not about the law in an academic vacuum-- that was still interesting. More about the practice side of it.

First, I am an introverted person by nature, although have become less so at least among people I know. Particularly among people I don't know. Unless I have a stated purpose or easily-identifiable relation or reason to talk to a stranger, I find it very hard to strike up a conversation with people I do not know. Basically, I am not the person who will be going to a cocktail with a room full of strangers, and start just talking to everyone. I am more like the person hanging out by the food, trying to look like I have a purpose, and not awkward. But, particularly in today's sucky job market, one of the keys to successful launching out of law school, is "networking." Oh man, did Northwestern push the networking thing. With good reason, granted. I can't tell you how many networking events or workshops I went to, particularly during the first term. Granted, it was probably good for me-- I actually noticed an improvement and getting over the awkwardness of the situation. But I never really liked it. I guess I just got better at masking how uncomfortable I was, and still am, and "faking it". Like seriously though, what do you say to someone who is standing behind their firm's table with a bunch of "merch," when the whole point is to just walk up and start talking? Where do you begin. And I started to realize that, particularly to win clients, I would have to do much more of this. Granted, in a formal setting-- like where everyone knows the purpose of the meeting, to get a new client, and there are set expectations and boundaries, I am good to go, and am actually quite comfortable and chatty-- but eh, I started to become uncomfortable with how much networking seemed to be "a thing" in the legal field. I realize that in any field it will be "a thing," that I will have to learn to deal with it, but it just seemed to be a bigger thing here. And for a variety of other reasons, I started to have apprehensions about the business side of it, at least in the private sector.

And just generally, after the novelty of the first term wore off, I started to just get burned on school as school. I had never really had a break and done something else, and for the whole time had been pretty motivated and hard on myself to do well. I am kind of a serious person, and never really hardcore goofed off in college. I started really regretting not doing something "between pictures" for a year or two, as the vast majority of my peers had. It seemed to give them a real focus. And just generally, a break. Before Senior year, I had seriously considered taking a year and going to be an au pair in Norway. From summer jobs, I had experience in child care, and it seemed like a cool (no pun intended) way to see a new place and reconnect/discover my latent heritage. But, I was convinced out of it, because it wasn't a "real" job that would "look good" to law schools. In retrospect, I really regret not doing that.

But I digress. Anyway, I started seeing my graduated friends from college, who had stayed in the area and had jobs, and I started to become, and still am, envious of the fact that, by and large (with occasional exceptions that happen in every job), when they went home at 5 or 6 o'clock, they did not have to worry about doing work until the next day. Work was done during work hours. The weekends were free. While I certainly had free time, and don't lock myself inside studying 24/7, I envy the fact that they don't really have that voice in the back of the head constantly reminding me of the reading I need to get done and should be doing, or spending a fun Saturday with the knowledge that I will be in all day Sunday getting a CLR brief done. They mostly don't have to accomplish anything when they get home at night. I want that, and started to feel that, going from school to law school, to practicing law, I will never have that, not even for a year or two, as it is quite well known that lawyers work a) loooong hours at the office including weekends and/or b) take their work home with them. I have nothing against working hard-- in fact, I think it is the only way to work when you are working. But for just once, I would like that work to really be done for the day, at the end of the day, so I can just go home with a clean conscious.

So, the work started seeming tedious, and I really started losing motivation. I have had the "doldrums," as I call them, before, usually right before finals, as kind of a mental rebellion against the impending doom, but I always managed to get over it quickly and just "do" it, because I had an overall horizon goal I was getting to, and that I wanted. Here, for the first time, I started questioning if the "horizon"I was working towards was what I wanted, at least right now. I began to feel that I had been blazing along the path of what I thought I wanted, and just went go-go-go, without slowing down a bit to take assessment of my situation. And I started to regret it. I started getting behind in work, but it really stopped bothering me. As finals drew nearer, I studied, but hardly in a motivated fashion, as I just got so over the constant stress and pressure of grades and GPA ruling my life. I honestly was and am saying, whatever happens, happens. This from the person who spent much energy in college trying to keep up with the reading, did so mostly successfully, and when I didn't, felt super guilty about it. This from the person who, for as long as I could remember, had to hardcore rationalize with myself when I got a B+.

I also started to have doubts about why I was doing this in the first place. As I said, my desire to go to law school stemmed in a large part from my becoming a political person, and strong feelings about current events. Basically, I started paying attention to my surroundings, and didn't like a lot of what I saw. So, I thought going to law school and fighting the good fight, so to speak, would be a constructive and productive way to use this new found energy. But I started to realize that a lot of this energy was negative energy. I went to school because I was mad. Paying attention to the issues I wanted to combat, made me angry. Reading politics, made me angry. Now, as anyone who knows me would tell you, I am not afraid of conflict, and don't mind standing my ground and fighting, when necessary or warranted. But as much as I cared about the reasons that drove me to school in the first place, I started finding out that I am not one of those activist types who can turn their anger or indignation into positive energy for change. To me, it remained negative energy. And I noticed that I couldn't really "leave it at the office," either. I started to wonder if spending 60+ hours a week in an adversary system, fighting, would be healthy or happy in the long run.

None of this was helped, either, by the fact that somewhere around mid-February, my immune system decided to essentially stop doing its damn job. Since about junior year of college, I have had some ongoing health issues with my digestive track, and this last November, I was diagnosed with some sleep disorder akin to narcolepsy (sans the all-of-a-sudden, fall-down-right-there-randomly aspect) (I actually cannot remember what it is called; I probably should figure that one out). It started with the stomach flu, which I probably got from pulling my first all-nighter after a VERY stressful and FUBAR'd week to get a CKR brief done for class. So, I had stomach flu for four days, didn't eat solid food for three. Still managed to go to class, although getting work done (work I was already behind on due to the aforementioned brief)... didn't happen.

So, about a day after I finally got over the fricking flu, I started to notice that the area around my tailbone started to ache. Having banged up my tailbone before, I figured I just bruised it again somehow, although I had no idea how since I had spent the prior four days essentially lying on the couch with the aforementioned stomach flu. But, over the weekend (I distinctly remember this starting on a Friday) it got really, really painful, like to the point that I bought one of those neck rest donut things meant for long flights, and used it to sit on since I could't put pressure on the area without intense pain. I even kind of started waddling, because normal walking hurt. Finally, on the following Monday, I couldn't take it any more and got a doctor's appointment at student health services. I remember because the appointment was the same afternoon that Eric Holder came to speak. An actually important foreign policy speech that would have been much more interesting to me if I wasn't a point of being barely able to sit. Anyway, the doc at the appointment took one look at the tailbone area, and sent me down to the ER (the student health services is within the massive Memorial Hospital complex, I guess unsurprisingly). Without getting into gory details, I had an infection that had to be dealt with. So that took a few hours (actually for a big city hospital, I was duly impressed at the in-out time; I have waited wayyyy longer in most suburban ER rooms, which are in theory serving fewer people), and then I had to come back a few days later to the ER to get it checked. Fun! I had a brief respite over my two-week spring break, which was actually awesome. I went skiing with my dad and a college buddy of his, and while I was skiing (in Idaho), I felt healthier than I had in a long while.

Buuuuuut, that didn't last long. Within a week of returning to school, I had strep throat and a 101 fever. I missed 2.5 days of school, which I hardly ever do. I got over it with the antibiotics...or so I thought. About 2.5 weeks from first getting strep, and after like a week of feeling normal, guess what? I got strep again!! Yay! And of course, I was coming down with it on the day of my first final, for Con Law. I managed to get through the test, although I think I was starting to get feverish towards the end (sorry prof. if the last third of my exam doesn't make sense or is highly rambling... not my intentions). By the end of the day I had a 102 fever, and the next day headed back to the doc for more drugs. And again, I spent 2.5 days essentially in bed. All of this, of course, after having survived all of elementary, middle, and high school and college, and countless numbers of those "your child has been exposed to strep" notes schools send home, without contracting strep. So of course it hit now. So, in addition to being mentally exhausted, I was becoming and am literally physically worn out. Did not help my general outlook on law school, or school in general, because the last thing you want to be worrying about when you are huddled on a couch with extreme nausea, or sweating out a triple-digit fever, is the work you are going to get behind on, and wondering/debating if you can possibly pull it together and make it into class for the day.

All of this sort of came to a head over Spring Break, even before the strep attacks. One night after skiing, while my dad was asleep, I wrote down all my thoughts and doubts and frustrations on paper, mostly for myself. I just needed to get it out. It had been swimming in my head for weeks, it needed to come out. After the first bout of strep, I finally became like totally over the school thing, and really needed a break. In a moment of severe frustration, I sent the thing I had typed and saved on my computer over break, to my dad (after having cleaned it up considerably... the first version used the "F" word quite liberally). I then spent the next couple weeks talking over my frustrations and concerns with my dad, basically saying that I think I need to take a leave of absence from school for a year. Mostly to a) give my body a rest and hopefully get my immune system to function again, which is hard to do in the high-stress environment of law school, b) take time away from school, because I just can't deal with school any more and doing the whole school/homework/class/test/paper/grade stress thing that I have been doing essentially for the last 12 years non-stop (elementary school doesn't really count), c) give me time and some distance to figure out what direction I want to go in, to see if law is really that direction, before I pour any more of my future money (through government loans for tuition) or my parents' and aunt's money for living expenses into this endeavor, which is not inconsequential. If it were just me... I would feel less bad. But I hate...hate the idea of wasting other peoples' time and money, particularly of those who care about me, who have supported me, and have been super generous with supporting my education. My dad was not receptive to this, though, and essentially advised me to put this out of my mind until after finals, because it is a "distraction." Although we were able to have rational, calm conversations about it. I initially made the decision to not speak of this with my mom because I figured it she wouldn't approve. And since my mom and I are both very stubborn people who can become entrenched when arguing, I figured it would be hard to maintain a calm and rational conversation, so I just didn't want to go there.

I told my dad that I had been speaking with an administrator at school; I know she is a professor, but she also has some kind of administrative title. I don't know what it exactly is, but she is the one who runs all the workshops they sent us 1Ls to during the first term, to learn how to brief cases, outline for the test, and write timed exams. She also meets with 1Ls, and essentially is the one to talk us down from whatever N00B law school cliff we are at the edge of.

What I didn't tell him was that I had already been applying to actual real-people, full time jobs. At this point, I have probably hit about 20 applications. When I was having my "come to Jesus" moment during Spring Break, I thought about what did make me happy and interested. I have always been a huuuge history geek, particularly ancient history. I became obsessed with Ancient Egypt when I was 10, after the Prince of Egypt came out in theaters (in retrospect, "Egypt is awesome!" was probably not the intended moral of that story, but whatever). In college this morphed into interest in art history and visual culture geek-outing. I took up the major after I found I had a knack for it, and actually became quite interested in how art and cultural production, reflects the people creating it and the society in which they operate. It is like a window into another world. I started spending more time in museums. I wrote a lot of research papers, which I really liked doing. I liked that the research was multifaceted; not just reading books, but looking at images, sometimes in person. I was able to hardcore geek out on my Senior Thesis, which was about a (very) niche area of ancient Egyptian art. I really liked it, but I also knew that I did not really want to become a professor. I like research, but I know myself, and I am not a good teacher, and never will be.

So, I started to think about museum work. Curating and related research started to really make sense to me; I looked it up online, and was astounded to find that there actually were jobs...more than I thought. They all required Masters or PhDs though, so I thought about applying to grad school instead. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that no matter what I decide to do, I need to not be in school right now, and need to take some time to figure which path will be best for me. So, I started applying to jobs I thought might help give me some insight. First I applied to a bunch of jobs at the Art Institute, the Field Museum and the Oriental Institute at UChicago. Some of the jobs I was more qualified for than others, so we shall see. But, knowing I really needed to get out, I also started to branch out and apply to mostly administrative jobs either at other local non-profits (local theaters and cultural organizations), and academia type jobs at various institutions here. They all sounded very interesting, and I thought I would be qualified for them (in varying degrees), and they all were in rather academic or cultural settings, which speaks to my interests. So far no interview requests yet, but I will keep my fingers crossed. I really want to work. My plan so far is essentially, if I don't get any job offers, go back for a second straight year of school. If I do get an offer, take time off for awhile, and reassess my situation. I feel like to take this kind of a big step, I need a job lined up that is more than working as a waitress. I need a job that gives me a "feel" for things, otherwise taking the time is pointless. For the summer anyway, I am slated to a legal internship in NYC. That should be cool, at least, and will give me good context for law school vs actual doing law, and what I think about it.

Anyway, the most recent update, is that this weekend, the shit finally hit the fan with my family about all this, and other more deep-seated issues. Some backstory: I live with my boyfriend, who I met as a freshman, and we have been going out since the end of that year. He works in the city. Initially, he had is own room in an apartment with some crazy roommates, on the Northwest side of town. It took him 40 minutes to get to my place, which is downtown. He pretty much just ended up staying 98% of the time with me, overnight and all, because it was just a more pleasant arrangement for all involved. After several months of this, I finally told him to stop wasting the $400 on the apartment he was never in, and move in. We had kind of been keeping this up because we didn't want to "officially" move in, because my parents (who are paying for the place as school living expense)most definitely wouldn't approve, for a variety of complex reasons. I was afraid of telling them-- I was afraid of getting in trouble, of getting my boyfriend in trouble. And I wasn't sure what would happen if I told them. So, keeping my boyfriend's apartment seem less like we were concealing *actual* living together. But, it was stupid and an economic waste. (NB to any conservative types reading this, yeah yeah "living in sin" blah blah, I will get to my whole "being my own master" section in a bit; judge as you want, I don't actually give a damn). So, for the months he has been living with me, I essentially acted with my parents like when he was over, he was "visiting."

Well, anyway, you know how I said I am going to NYC for a summer job? My mom, quite legitimately since my parents are the ones paying for this, said that she might want to come out and use the place as a "pied a terre" to hang out in chicago while I am away. So, for the last three months, I had been stressing profusely about how I was going to get my boyfriend's stuff out (including now a piano), and make it seem like he didn't live here full time. My boyfriend travels a lot for long periods of time for his job, and starting tomorrow will be gone for 6 weeks. So this last Sunday, I was running around like a crazy person, trying to intricately plot which of his things could stay and which had to go, so I could plausibly claim he didn't live here, in case Mom actually did come out. I tore the apartment apart, which is filled with his books, his movies, his music. It was nuts. I was being completely paranoid. And in the middle of the madness, I had an epiphany: this was bullshit. This was the kind of stuff you see on stupid ridiculous sitcoms. I shouldn't have to hide the fact that my boyfriend is living with me. I was doing it to please and placate my parents. But I am not a wild crazy person, I don't go out and "get crunk" every night, in fact I pretty much never do. I am not involved in drugs or anything illegal. I am actually a fairly calm and responsible adult, capable of making my own decisions, and I shouldn't have to hide a meaningful part of my life from my parents. I realized that I am in fact an adult, albeit an admittedly young and inexperienced one. I realized that as an adult, instead of spending my time worrying about pleasing or disappoint other people-- including my parents-- I need to start worrying about not displeasing or disappointing myself. And I realized that, I need to start drawing the line in the sand, where parental (or really, any person's) advice becomes just that-- advice, preference, and not dictates or mandates.

So, I stopped in the middle of what I was doing, picked up the phone and called my mom. I told her first that I had a couple things to tell her, and that she wasn't going to like them, but I am going to do my thing, and needed to tell her. I first told her about the living situation. It was hard to tell on the phone how she reacted, because she was surprisingly calmer in tone than expected. Maybe it is a sign of some minimal adult parity that we didn't end up in a huge emotional argument/shouting match. She seemed less upset about it than I thought-- only asking if he had been paying rent. I said no, truthfully. Like, how would I explain to my mother-- who can see/has access to the joint account where I keep my moving expense $$-- why all of a sudden only idk, $1000 was coming out each month, and not the full $1300 (which reminds me, rent is due. Need to pay tomorrow). She seemed more upset about what I told her next, namely all of the stuff about school/job described above, which I had only discussed with my dad. I told her I met with the 1L administrator, and that my plan was to take a leave of absence if I could find a good job in the city; if not, I would go straight through to my second year. And that was the plan, and I am sticking to it. She, unsurprisingly, was not happy. There really isn't much more to say, because the conversation kind of just went in circles from there.

Later that evening, though, I found out something that did NOT make me happy. At all. So, both my parents have their own email accounts-- dad at work, mom from Yahoo. But, the family has a joint email account of sorts that we set up literally when I was 10, from our ISP. I literally was the one to pick both the email name, and the password. Because everyone now has their own personal email address, it doesn't get used much-- when it does, it is basically just my mom who uses it for sending certain emails to people. But, everyone still has the password, it is still technically "joint." I got curious whether my mom would be angry at Dad for not telling her about our prior conversations about my future, etc., and send him an email demanding to know what was going on. So, I signed into the email account.

Mom didn't email dad, but...wait for it... she DID email the counselor/administrative lady that I had talked to about taking a leave, as I had mentioned on the phone that I had talked to her. She emailed her to check in on my "situation" because she was "concerned." Are you kidding me? Seriously, are you freaking kidding me? This is not high school, I am not 14, and you do NOT need to call my school, behind my back, to check in on me. I am 23 years old and in pre-professional school. Many of my peers are in their 30s. I am not a child who cannot handle my own problems, and I feel very, very, significantly violated that my mom was being this intrusive. Sorry, but I am trying to make informed rational decisions. I think I might take time off from school, not that I might go join a prostitution ring. I don't think you need to call my freaking school. What is worse, apparently the admin lady referred my parents to the Dean of Students of the freaking law school, and they BOTH talked to him on the phone (which he relayed to me in an email on an unrelated matter). Literally, there are no words. I was unsurprisingly, pissed. I still am. This is a huge violation of my privacy, my space, and frankly my autonomy as an competent individual. I sent my mom an email-- which my boyfriend vetted as respectable-- admitting I read her email to the school, and that I felt extremely intruded upon, and that this was NOT appropriate action by parents of an ADULT child. The response was somewhat condescending, and I won't get into it here. She said something along the lines of, "we were only trying to find out your options about a leave of absence, can you be readmitted, etc etc." Which I obviously had already asked all about when I went in to speak with the admin, and could have just answered if she had asked me.

I am still actually very upset and angry about this, as you can imagine. Like, I haven't spoken to my Mom or Dad since Sunday, and honestly, unless they call I probably won't until after finals. I am supposed to fly home next Wednesday to visit for a couple weeks before I head to NY, but honestly I am starting to feel really uncomfortable about it. Because this little episode has shown me that, at least facially, my parents don't yet see me as competent adult. Despite my high achievement in school, my general level of responsibility, the fact that I am living in an apartment in a major city, and the fact that I never once got into any of the "bad stuff" growing up, it seems my parents think I still need protecting. I am sure they would protest, but as the cliche goes, actions speak louder than words.

I understand that this all comes from a good place-- my parents have generally been supportive of me, and help me out in immense and innumerable ways, and are just worried about me and don't want me ending up under a bridge or something. I get all that, and I really do appreciate it, and what they have done for me over the years. I very rarely wanted for anything, really. They just don't want me to make an irrevocable mistake, and think the best course of action is to stay the course. Their heart is in the right place, but the execution is all wrong. Yes, I will always need their advice, and will turn to them. But at this stage, their input is-- or should be anyway-- just that, advice, which I either take or don't, to my ultimate benefit or detriment. There is a difference between "If I were you I would do X," but also acknowledging that it is my ultimate decision, and mine rightly to make, and phrasing things as a command like "Just do X," or "Do Y," or "You must do Z." And checking up on me like mom did, that crosses way too many lines I can't even count. As I explained in my email to my mom, what I need as an adult child is advice, not protection. There is a difference, and it needs to be respected. What hurt me the most about this whole thing, was that I got the sense that they don't respect me as an adult. With them, I am stuck in perpetual childhood (or, probably more accurately, adolescence). That I am not seen by them as a competent adult, even after graduating with honors and latin honors, even after persevering my way into a good law school on my own initiative, that hurts. A lot. It is upsetting not to have your parents' full respect. The worst part is, I don't know why. I don't think I have ever really given them a reason-- beyond maybe some stupid small stuff from high school-- to think I am foolish or incompetent. I have generally been successful and mundane. And they often speak of how proud they are of me. But this episode, and the response from my mom that, since I am thinking of slowing things down a bit and reevaluating my situation before I go on, contrary to what my parents think is best, I am now "my own worst enemy," as per the email, are showing otherwise.

This whole episode has actually made me more determined to get a job and get financially independent before I finish school. Right now, since the 'rents are footing some of the bill, I do feel some kind of obligation to "tow the party line," even though intellectually I know I shouldn't really have to. But I feel that financial independence is and will be the only real way to severe the final umbilical cord, as it were. I feel like it is the only way my attempts to draw some boundaries will be respected. The only way that I can live without having to fight to validate my choices and my existence. To not be invaded in my existence. I love and do respect my parents, but I don't know how else to get through to them that the nature of our relationship has to change and evolve now that I am an adult. That is the natural order and progression of things, and it is frankly weird that they are still being involved at the kind of level exhibited above.

So, that's pretty much everything up-to-date. The beginning of my foray into the "quarter-life crisis" and my attempts to make sense of it all. In regards to my parents, eh I dunno what the current status is. I haven't spoken to them since Sunday. Other than the brief email exchange between my mom and I on Sunday, no email communications of substance. But, mom had emailed me a couple of the chain email things she gets, which is pretty normal. I did email my dad about something-- forwarding him something stupid and political that we can both agree on, and asking his opinion. So far no response today. I have noooo idea where I stand with him. He knows about the law school thing, but didn't know about all the applications, and the boyfriend thing. Will be interesting I am sure. Will keep you posted.

Signing off for the night...because it is actually morning now 0_o