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...

Razzle Dazzle 'Em

I have new respect for people who work full time jobs, and still are the primary caretaker of the home front. Particularly singles. I usually get done with work around 5:30 or 6:00pm, and proceed to get dinner. Which means I am usually home between 7:30-8:00pm. And yet I still often have things to do, like laundry, or dry cleaning, or apartment hunting, or OCI info gathering, or going to the store. Yes, there are the weekends, but I find those get real busy, real fast. Like today, I finally picked up some repairs I had left at the cleaners... almost two weeks after it was ready. Just because I have gotten busy. So I respect that people do this every day, squeezing in the mundane of life in the after-work hours. But, I still like this better than school and homework. As much as I have errands and things to run after work, in the end, I am still free to do whatever, to get those things done as needed, on my schedule, and just have my "me" personal life, without worrying about homework on top of the several hours I have already spent in school. Alas.

This week is a strange week, because the Fourth of July strikes on Wednesday, in the middle of the week. So we have this random day off (not complaining, of course), but it's just kind of awkward, because you can't really make a weekend out of it, can't really justify like a three-day weekend. It's just kind of there, to oddly cut up the the week. So I think going into the week, everyone at work kind of senses this is a weird week, and it doesn't seem to be as much, business as usual. So, this is why I did not feel guilty not really doing work today, instead watching the closing arguments of both the government and the defense in this crazy mafia case that started about 3 weeks ago. I had seen the government's examination of its star witness on the stand, but hadn't seen anything else, as my work comes first, and I had had an intense and busy two weeks. But I really wanted to see the end, especially since I had heard from other interns who had seen more of the trial, that the defense attorney was something else. And oh boy, was he something else. I don't think I can really describe it; instead, the following clip from the movie-musical Chicago does a pretty accurate rendition of today in court:

Richard Gere as criminal defense attorney Billy Flynn in Chicago, copyright Miramax, 2002.

Yeah. That was pretty much it. The defense attorney was certainly charismatic and emphatic, getting up and walking around, walking towards the jury, at times being almost conversational with them. There really is a certain type of art to effective oral argument, at least if you are on the defense side. But, he spent a lot of time distracting from the main crux of the government's case: namely, the facts. He spent a lot of time trying to impeach the credibility of the government's star witness, who admittedly is not a good or very redeemed person, and upon whom the government rested probably 80% of its case. And he spent also a lot of time trying to impeach the whole process taken by the government-- riding the ragged edge of insinuating prosecutorial misconduct, and trying to rile the jury up about the spending ("wasting") of "their tax dollars" on this "sham" and "disgrace" of a case. He did this with a lot of catchy sound bytes (my personal favorite was his claim that the government was going after his client because he did not join "Team America" and roll over on other guys in the Mafia), and with some information or allegations, that may or may not have actually been in the real trial record (I don't know, as I didn't see the whole case, but that was the jist of a lot of the prosecution's rebuttal). What he didn't spend a lot of time doing, was picking apart the actual content of the evidence against his client. Because while there definitely was heavy reliance on the testimony of this one star witness, and a few other cooperators, there also were recorded conversations from "bugged" individuals and places, that were pretty incriminating. Oh, he picked apart the context of the the conversations, he attacked the fact that they were edited, suggesting that the government "strategically cut" parts of the testimony, to make it look like his client talked about something, or people were talking about his client in a certain way, when if fact it was something totally different. But he didn't really get into what was actually said, trying to pick *that* apart and discredit the actual information. He did that in one instance kind of thoroughly, but it wasn't an instance going to the most serious or damning of the charges, and he didn't really do anything more with it. He kind of relied on a lot of tangents and allegations, and conjectures about both his client and the witnesses. On an emotional level, it was very effective. But, I don't know, in my very inexperienced opinion, I think my strategy would be to, as much as possible "go for the throat," and try to dismantle, piece-by-piece, the content of whatever evidence was presented against my client. But that is just me, and I guess you fight with the troops you got, or, in this case, with the case you got, to squeeze someone through the door of reasonable doubt. As the movie said, "how can they [the jury/tier of fact] see with sequins in their eyes?" It will remain to be seen how effectively the attorney's conjectures and emotional appeals go over with the jury.

Either way, it is back to the regular work for me tomorrow. Since I spent all day in court today, I really go to book it.

This weekend was really nice. I headed out of the city again, this time to see some family on my Dad's side (my aunt and my cousin, who is about 2 years younger than me). They are really cool people-- very artsy; in fact, I have linked to my cousin's blog on this blog page, so you should totally check it out. They do really good pottery, as well as paintings and drawings. My cousin also makes cool jewelry and wares like aprons. I even got a piece done by my cousin to take back with me and hang in my apartment in Chicago (wherever that happens to be; after a year of listening to construction, I finally decided my boyfriend and I need to move to a quieter (and cheaper) part of town). And they are generally chill people. They live in Princeton, NJ, so I headed out there on Saturday morning, as it is really only an hour away by train. They took me to lunch in Princeton, so I finally got to see at least the periphery of the famous Ivy League school, if not the actual campus. Princeton is basically your typical college town, although a bit more up-scale, with a lot of quasi-expensive restaurants and like, boutique, bougie stores. We also drove by Princeton Plainsboro Hospital, of House fame. Not going to lie: I was geeking a just a little. I kind of stopped watching the show because, law school. It was also getting kind of soap-opera-ish. But, I am always a fan of Hugh Laurie's snark. Not going to lie: I had a bit of a TV crush on Doctor House during the time when I was a regular watcher of the show.

Then we headed into New Hope, PA, a little town right over the NJ-PA border. As a side note, the concept of being able to go between multiple states in a matter of a few hours, is a concept I have only just recently fully wrapped my head around. As someone who grew up in California, where the nearest state border was about 5.5 hours away by car, the whole small-ness and easy-access of states on the East Coast, was something that really blew my mind. So, three states in one day. Not bad. And New Hope was cool. It was an example of why I love the East Coast: many of the buildings were pretty old and colonial, some probably dating from the mid-1800s or earlier. As a confessed history geek, things like this just fascinate and excite me, and I am also just generally into older-style, Colonial or Victorian architecture. And in California, it being a relatively new state, and relatively new to mass-development, you just don't get it. There isn't all that much that is "old," that is still usable. Sure, there are things dating from around the Gold Rush, but honestly those are usually relegated to re-enactment towns where elementary school kids go on their 4th grade "let's learn about California history" field trips. Other than in San Francisco, you really don't get the same kind of impressive, really objectively historical and old types of buildings, that are still functional.

Anyway, New Hope was fun. It's kind of a hippy town, although it is starting to get a bit more upscale. It had a lot of independent stores selling original art-- not the mass-produced stuff you see in like a Target, but either originals by the store purveyor his or her self, or original works by local artists. Some of the stores even branched out beyond that, and featured international or international-inspired work. One store dealt in handcrafted art from Mexico, another in Celtic/Irish (and, somewhat randomly, Spanish) art, and another in Native American art. There were also the requisite Tye-Dye and Vintage Stores. And, generally speaking, much of the stuff was pretty reasonably priced (also, I love you, anywhere that isn't California-Chicago-NYC. Namely, I love the fact that sales tax was 6%). I even got a cool mirror (for the reasonable price of $40) that has a wrought-iron vine/leaf border around the glass. Assuming I can get it to Chicago in one piece, it will make a very cool addition to my new apartment. And, my aunt and I even got our fortunes read. My cousin had recommended this lady as a palm reader-- I guess she and one of her friends had come in to the town before, and had theirs done, and were impressed. I have to say, I was more impressed by her reading of my aunt's palm than mine, but it was entertaining nonetheless. The last time I had had my palm read (or it might have been Tarot, I honestly don't remember), was when I was like 13, at the Renaissance Faire in Casa de Fruita, CA. So I guess it was time.:0)

I really enjoyed hanging out with my family, particularly since they are people that, being on the opposite coast from me, I never really saw all the much growing up. But now I see at least my cousin more frequently, because she is at the University of Michigan, and I go to Michigan from Chicago fairly frequently. I think I have seen my cousin more times in the last 4 or so years, than in the previous 10-15 years combined. It is nice to be closer to that side of the family, because they weren't as much of a presence in my life as my mom's side, who pretty much all live within a one-hour radius of each other in California. And the distance and lack of regularity in seeing my other family, has always been something I have regretted from my childhood. Nothing could be done, obviously, because people were where they were, but it still was kind of a lack in my family life.

See, I am capable of having normal, not angry or angsty posts. I swear I am more balanced than perhaps the "angry bitch post" suggests. I hope you liked the added bit of "flare" of the video! Anyway, to my loyal readers, until next time.

Not-so-Part-Two: Another Week in NYC

So... apparently I didn't ever finish part two of my "part one" from last weekend's post. Unfortunately, I got hit with a project at work that I didn't know was going to turn into War and Peace, so that sucked my life for a week. Luckily I was so busy this week that I didn't do much, so I can fit a week's worth of stuff into one post without it being ridiculous.

When I last left my narrative, I was about to go to Connecticut. So yes, Connecticut. My boyfriend is from Connecticut, and was able to find a cheap rate on Spirit Airways to come out for Father's Day. So even though he had already been in Chicago for a week, he flew back out and met me in New York on that Friday. He actually met me at like 10:30p.m. in Brooklyn, because a friend of his was jazz singing in a cafe/bar/lounge in Park Slope.

Anyway, that Saturday morning we took the Greyhound bus from Times Square to Hartford. Also: I didn't know buses were such a thing. Maybe it is because I am from California, and other than Los Angeles, Santa Barbara or San Diego, there really aren't major "hubs" people will be traveling to within the same state. But Greyhound-- or long-distance bus travel in general-- is definitely not as much of a thing as it is here on the East Coast, apparently. Like, the Port Authority bus terminal in Manhattan is the size of a small airport. Like, I am pretty sure it might be bigger-- square footage as well as the number of vehicles serviced-- than the Harrisburg, PA or Boise, ID airports (yes, for a variety of reasons, I have actually flown in and out of those airports. On multiple occasions).

It was nice to meet up and hang out with my boyfriend's family. They are a lot like my dad's side of the family in that there are a lot of them, and whenever there is an event (and having the kids come home to visit qualifies as an event), they all get together in one place. The first day (Saturday) I was there, we basically hung out. Went to this burger joint that, for context for all you Chicago dwellers our there, is kind of like Epic Burger. Except they had better shakes. And then that evening we went to the aforementioned dinner/cookout with the boyfriend's family. On Sunday, I went with my boyfriend's mom and kid sister (she's nine-- which is kind of scary for me because when I first met her, she had just barely turned five) to watch the boyfriend sing in a showcase. When he was in high school, he was part of this program that gives scholarships to students, so that they can take very intensive lessons in singing. Over the 2-3 years of the program, the student's get something like $25K worth of lessons and training; the students have to try out to get in, and every "class" is only like 5 or 6 people. So it's kind of a big deal. And I guess (not surprisingly) at the "end" of the year (by school counting), the current students put on a showcase of songs. This year was their 10th anniversary, so as a special thing, they invited all the alumni back to sing in the final two numbers-- one on their own, one with the current students. It was really nice because, other than just generally being quality music, this was something I had heard a lot about from my boyfriend, and that I knew was and is an important part of his life. So it was nice that I actually got to share in it with him a little.

He also knows a lot of the people running the program (I guess not surprisingly, since the program is so small), so I actually (briefly) met some of those people as well. The craziest thing I saw at the reception, however, was this: One of the ladies in charge of the program had her mother there. The lady-- not the mother-- is probably in her late 70s. Apparently her mother is 99 years old (and, actually looked "spry"-- I would have placed her in her late 80s). For context (as I pointed out to my boyfriend at the time): when this woman was born, World War I hadn't happened yet. Can you imagine what this lady must have seen in her life? The kind of memories she must have? And how much of a mind-fuck it must be to live in this day and age, being so different from anything she would have known when she was a child/teen/young adult? How can one even deal with that? I am of two minds about living that old (if, of course, I still basically have my wits about me. Otherwise, forget it). On the one hand, I think it would be fascinating to have lived through the 20th century, to see the kind of change and world-events that she could have seen. To be a "memory-keeper" of sorts of the past. In other ways, I think it would be profoundly depressing. Other than her daughter and any possible grandkids, everyone she ever knew or loved I am sure have long passed on. Any husband, siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, friends, associates. And the world in which she would have been most active-- when she was young, through perhaps her 60s or 70s-- has also long passed on. She would have just come into the world as a young adult in the early 1930s. Think about that. In a way, it is quite poignant. But then, I always found movies about people who live forever, like Tuck Everlasting or Interview with a Vampire, bittersweet, more than scary or love-storyish or whatever was the main intention of the moviemakers. Because I always think about things like that-- what would be lost, what would be gained in living so long, and I find it kind of sad, in a way.

Anyway, I returned on Sunday evening. And didn't do much the whole week except work on this project. It was quite interesting, but sucked my life as I had to go through like 10lbs worth of trial records, in addition to about 75 cases (culled from an initial list of like 150). The brief section I wrote ended up being like 15 pages. But it is gratifying to know that the work I am doing is actually going to be meaningful-- in this case, helping to keep someone who should be in jail, stay in jail. A nice change from the "meaning" being grades/GPA, which I am finding to be increasingly not meaningful, and as such am having increasingly less patience with it.

On Tuesday the boyfriend swung back into New York for the evening, as his flight was at like 8:30am on Wednesday, out of LaGuardia, and understandably did not want to get up at like 3am to come into the city from Connecticut. We ended up meeting his friend again (the jazz singer) at this very chic bar/lounge on Park Avenue near Grand Central Station. I had dressed up because I knew that this place was going to be a classy joint. And it was. To the tune of $15 drinks and $7 tea. But it was an experience. The friend actually wasn't singing-- it was a friend of hers that had gotten the gig to sing at the place, and she had come out to support her. Since the boyfriend and I wanted to have some time to actually talk to his friend (the last two times-- at a house party and a gig in which she was singing-- were not really conducive to hanging out and chatting), we decided to go along. We were there for probably like two hours. And it was really one of those few moments that I felt "like an adult," as I am apparently now considered (I will be 24 in a couple months. No pretending like I could at 21 or 22-- this is real "twenties-something" territory. Which scares the hell out of me). I don't know; I feel like growing up-- particularly as part of the generation that grew up with Friends, Sex and the City, and the tail end of Seinfeld, we were all given these expectations about what being a young adult would be like: living in a cute apartment in some big city, getting together with regular friends after work at what my friend Kathryn has dubbed a "sitcom bar," just hanging out, and "being adults," with a variety of mostly minor social life dramas. But, for a variety of reasons-- particularly "reality"-- that is not what being a twenties-something is like. There is a lot more uncertainty about your life. Your drama isn't about your latest breakup or fling, so much as it is about, "holy shit what am I going to do with my life," or "I am doing something I don't like, but don't know how or where to change." Everyone I know who is is their early-mid twenties are experiencing one or both of those problems. For me, I still feel not really like an adult, even though I now go to a "job" (internship) every day, and have a (surprising) amount of responsibility in the work I do. I am still a student, I am still living for the most part off the graces of my parents and the federal government, so I don't feel very "grown up." So being at this trendy bar, in New York, listening to live music and drinking expensive drinks, I felt like I was finally experiencing what "being an adult" was always shown to mean. I felt like I was actually living the perception I had always had about what people do when they are "grown up."

Nothing really interesting happened the rest of the week. I worked on the project. I got a massage on Friday courtesy of Groupon, at a spa conveniently located a five-minute walk from the dining hall in which I eat dinner on week nights. It was quite relaxing, and much needed, and after the hour treatment, I could finally move things like my back and shoulders without hearing/feeling the joints pop. Unfortunately, the effects of this massage were short-lived. I had hauled with me the aforementioned 10lbs of trial materials in my briefcase bag, knowing I would have to work on this project over the weekend. Naturally, I got lost on the way back to my dorm (not really lost; just couldn't find the subway entrance. As a side note: Greenwich Village, wtf? Y u no make directional sense?). So after like 40 minutes of that, my shoulders were back to being pretty tense. Guess I will have to treat myself to another next month. :0)

Saturday I didn't do much, at all. I didn't even get up until 12:30pm (I think having pulled a lot of late nights the prior week to get shit done, really took a toll which my body was then trying to make up on the weekend). And then I spent most of the day *still* working on the brief. Since the internet at work sucks, I had spent most of the week just trying to read and note and create reference points in all the case law and trial material, so I didn't really even get to writing the thing until Friday. But, since it was the weekend, and since I am determined to not waste my time in NYC (I can sit in my room and do work at home, back in Chicago. If I am out here, I should do something). So, I did go out around 6:30pm to Chelsea Market, which is an interesting combination between like a food marketplace, and a food court. Chelsea, apparently, is a very trendy and high-class neighborhood of NYC (as I could tell from the stores, clubs, and apartment buildings I was passing by. Out of my price range for now, I am afraid), and Chelsea Market is probably one of the more upscale food markets/courts you will find. It's in an old factory of some sort that hsd been rehabbed and yuppified on the inside. I have to say, though, the food was good at the little restaurant I went to. Another, more minor moment, of feeling like a "real"young twenties-something. It definitely seemed like the kind of place a group of trendy young adult friends would go out to on the weekend for a more "casual" evening. I enjoyed.

On Sunday, I again didn't get going very early. I got myself up around noon, because I had a 1pm boat to catch from Battery Park, which would take me to Ellis Island. So I got another thing off my NYC bucket list, yay! Although my ticket would have allowed for it, I didn't get off at the Statute of Liberty Island. You can't climb up to the very top any more because of security, and I think even the base is closed for rehab. So all people were doing, was milling around the outside of the base, looking up and taking pictures. Frankly, I got a better view from a bit further back, on the boat, while we docked and waited for people to get off at the island/get on the boat.

Ellis Island was cool. You can tell that they put a lot of work into rehabbing the building-- it looks really good for being like 125 years old. Initially, I was going to try to make an appointment to look up family records-- you have to do that ahead of time-- since my mom's great-grandfather's family came over from Norway in the 1870s, and came through New York before heading out to Chicago (how things come full circle, no?). But, apparently Ellis Island wasn't a thing until 1892, so my family would have actually come through a port in lower Manhattan (now the site of Battery Park). And anyway, any records that may have existed, probably got burned up. Apparently, a couple years after the *first*, wooden Ellis Island building opened, the whole thing went up in flames, taking most of the immigration records going back to the 1850s with it. Alas. And on my dad's side-- hell, we have been in this country for freaking generations. We are about as old as the country itself. For example, one branch of the family tree apparently owned a plantation in Maryland, and a few years after Americans were like, "England? Eh, not so much," sold the land to the Federal Government to create what is now the Naval Academy at Annapolis. In conclusion: no, no we did not come through Ellis Island. Also, I feel like the fact that part of my family like sold/gave the government the land to create a military academy, should entitle me to some kind of tax break. One can dream...

Ellis Island is basically a museum inside the old port-of-call and inspection rooms. It chronicles the peopling of North America/ the United States from about the 1500s until the 1920s. It was actually quite interesting, and I always enjoy looking at old photos of people, and hearing/seeing first person accounts from the past. But then I am a history nerd. The one thing that miffed me about the earlier section (immigration from 1500 until 1892), was that the exhibit seemed like it was trying too hard to be "fair and balanced" in regards to specifically the plight of the Indians/Native Americans, to the point that it was borderline (dare I say it?) anti-American. I am not stupid or naive enough to think the founding of America was all sunshine and roses, but the adjectives/tones used in regards to actions taken by settlers/the U.S. government, versus that taken with regards to Indian raids and wars, were much more negative or condemning. I am for telling history like it is, and as fashionable as the "oh the horrible settlers/the poor indians" mindset is these days, I don't think taking "sides" is good history study. Both had a lot of good, and a lot of not-so-good, on each side. The history and motivations of settlement versus native rights is complex, and I personally think it is not an issue of one being more or less "right" or "good" than the other. If you are going to tell history, tell it straight. Tell the good and the bad for both, but don't try to up-play the evils of one, and downplay that of of the other, to score some kind of political points. At least as much as possible. Ok. Rant over.

The most interesting section of the museum-- at least for me-- was the stuff detailing immigration from 1892 until the mid-1920s; basically, immigration during the Ellis Island period. It was the coolest because it came at the time when immigration became a much more regulated and regular thing. So there were things like passports, and boat ledgers, and certificates of citizenship or naturalization. It was fascinating to see in the ledgers where people where coming from, but more so when you realize that you are looking at the very writing of real people, taking down the information of real immigrants to this country. I feel like history can get quite rarified and abstracted, so it is really affecting-- at least to me-- when things like this create reminders that behind the stories, and the even the photos, that there were real flesh-and-blood people involved. For the same reason, I thought the room full of old passports showing the pictures and information of people from all over the world, a hundred years ago, was quite amazing. And I learned quite a lot about what groups of people came over, when and why. Like, I always knew that the Irish and Italians were a big group, as well as the Chinese in California. But I had no idea that Sweden was another country from whence a lot of people came over. I mean, I knew the midwest was a mecca for Scandinavians, but I always thought it was kind of an even hodgepodge. Not so. Domination by the Swedes, for sure. Also, side note on the pictures they had of the conditions/tenements recent immigrants lived in, at least in NYC: dude, what a shithole.

So, that was basically my week/weekend. Today I went to work (a little later than usual, since I had been up until 2:30am in the morning finally finishing that brief project. And I felt *so* much more relaxed now that it is off my plate for while. I was handed a document review project for the day (basically, proofing/copy editing of a brief before it goes to a court). It was on one of the first issues I had researched extensively and written up at work, and what do you know, most of what I had written was included in the brief. To be formally submitted as an argument, on behalf of the U.S. Government, in federal court. So, I thought that was pretty cool. Makes me feel like a) if nothing else, I don't suck at this whole "law" thing and b) my writing might actually be halfway decent (which was nice, considering the piece-o-crap my final brief project in school was, and the subsequent (and deserved) shellacking it received from my professor). So, at least I am doing something right.

That's all for this evening. I was thinking of going into some politics/philosophy I had been mulling over the last week, when I wasn't working on the brief. Except that it is again late at night, and I had hoped to get to bed earlier this evening. Goddamn it.

Until next time. Hopefully now that things have calmed down and aren't as pressing, I can *actually* do this blog on a more regular basis. For those of you reading, thank you for your patience. Have a good night.

One Week in New York City

So, unintended hiatus from blogging for almost a week, thanks in part to my residence building deciding to re-work the wireless connections, thereby rendering me internet-less for about three days. And then the boyfriend came and visited me over the weekend; so between all of that, I haven't had much time to just sit down and blog.

Despite my initial reservations about NYC (namely, it being dirty), I am coming to actually really like NYC-- it is basically everything I want in a city: there is always something going on, somewhere to go, something to do. If you haven't noticed, a big theme in my life is, "I don't want to be bored," and it is very hard to be bored in this city. Granted, I spend the majority of my day working during the week, but after hours and on the weekends, I really have no reason to stay inside and do nothing.

So far, I have been to Union Square and in and around Times Square, plus Central Park and Roosevelt Island. I like that New York has a lot of mini-parks and squares where one can sit for a while and just chill/people watch/hide from the heat. The first few days I was in the city were nasty-- hot and unbearably humid. Being able to sit in the shade at one of these places was a lifesaver. But, nothing beats Central Park. The last time I was (very briefly) in New York, I saw the Park from kind of a distance, and my memory of that view is hazy at best. While the boyfriend was in town, I was actually finally able to get there. And it was super cool! I had always known it was big and rather wild (in terms of just kind of letting things grow), but had no idea how pretty it was. Very lush and green-- quite the contrast from the rest of New York. And not kept up in the way that gardens and parks are generally kept in, say, France: while there is generally an organized scheme, and bits where there is grass and footpaths, a lot of the wildlife is left to just be, and grow. It does really give you the illusion of being in some kind of wilderness or countryside-type place. You will see lots of different animals (particularly birds) just chilling. There are old stone bridges that go over waterways and ponds. And yet at the same time, the park contains a zoo (which we sadly couldn't find), a mini-theme park for kids and, at least while we were there, a stage which was playing a Gavin DeGraw concert. It is quite the interesting mix of just rote nature, and planned human presence. We were only there briefly, as the sun was going down, so I will definitely have to make it back there to go to the zoo/ride the rides/take one of those old-school carriage rides through the park. My boyfriend told me that they do Shakespeare in the Park during the summer, and best yet, it is free (one of the few things in this town that are, apparently). Should definitely look into that. I also apparently got some of the grant money for the summer, so I am not a po' as I thought I was. Which is nice. Because thanks to buying set-up supplies, and a MetroCard, and doing get-to-know you social things, I probably dropped... lots of money this week already. A little piece of my Credit Card dies every time I swipe it here.

Times Square was...Times Square. I had been there before, that one time I came out here, and that is where I spent most of that day, so I remembered it pretty well. Although I had not been there yet on this trip. It is pretty much what you have seen on TV, in movies, etc. One thing I didn't remember (although I am sure it was there) from the last time, was all these random people just dressed up as random characters, for photo ops for money. I don't know what to say about that, other than it is random. I have seen people like all painted one color and doing street dances for cash before, but this is literally people who just go out and buy a Spongebob costume or something and dress up and mill around Times Square. I wonder how much money these guys make. The thing that really was weird to me about Times Square, was that while I was in one of the stores, the sun had set and it was dark out, but looking out to the people on the street, it was so light that I couldn't tell. Because of all the crazy lights in Times Square, it was so bright that it literally seemed like it was still day, even though it was 9:30 at night. I have never seen anything like that before, pretty much ever.

We also went to Roosevelt Island to go to this party hosted by a friend of my boyfriend. First, I didn't even know this Roosevelt Island existed. It is kind of strange; it is like literally an island of basically "urban" suburbia (apartment buildings and condos, but not high-denisty or hi-rises) surrounded by New York. First, it is an amazing view of the NY skyline. And it is very quite and like, way cleaner than Manhattan. The island literally has one street. Apparently it was all built up as a planned community, and it definitely looks like it: all the buildings, whether stores, condos, apartments or like, the local school, all are built in buildings that are very nice, but clearly built using the same plan. They all look very similar, and are all kind of related or attached to each other in some way. The only exception is this one church that, by the looks of it, is about 100 years old. The annoying thing about the island, is that it only has one subway stop serviced by one subway line, which thanks to construction on that line, made getting to the island ridiculous (we had to go halfway into Queens so we could get on the line going back in to Manhattan, then get off at Roosevelt island. I think we ended up going like a mile or two more East than we would otherwise had to have gone. Luckily, we did not have to actually leave the station while we were in Queens...). Otherwise, it was very pleasant, and I could see why people who like the city, but want to get away from its craziness, would choose to live there. So, never a dull moment. Which, honestly, is how I prefer things.

The coolest thing about New York, though, is the fact that you can just meander around, and randomly walk into something happening. My boyfriend and I had no idea that a Gavin DeGraw concert was happening in Central Park; we just happened to wander into it. And when we were walking around Rockefellar Center to get to Central Park, we randomly found a cool street fair, that had handmade wares and art and stuff being sold (the boyfriend even got me a cool retro pocket-watch type necklace by haggling with this lady, something I am not very good at. Haggling always feel so awkward to me. Like isn't the price of something like, what it says it is? I thought in America you could only haggle for like, cars and houses). Chicago even really doesn't operate like this; it does so more in the summer, but even still it is usually more formal things like a Taste of Chicago or the Blues Festival. I have yet to wander upon a random street fair (as opposed to a farmers market, which do randomly happen in Chicago as well as NYC). I love how here, you must expect the unexpected.

Anyway, I started my job on Tuesday, as it was Memorial Day on Monday and thus a government holiday. I have to say, for all my grousing about law school, at least so far I actually quite like it. Because unlike school, it doesn't have the daily monotony of class-homework-bed, and with a few minor exceptions, it functions like a job: when I go home at 5:30 every night, I am basically home, and don't have to think about work until the next day. Obviously this is not always true, as sometimes the lawyers stay late to prep for trial, but it is not the same as school, where even when you are home, you work has just begun. My typical day will be spending a few hours doing research, then going to observe a trial, then going to something like a witness prep. I really appreciate that the internship people have tried to organize it so that the interns aren't just doing research gophering, but actually get to see and participate in the many different parts of criminal litigation. On Friday, I got to go to a sentencing hearing. And by go to, I don't mean just sit in the public audience section. One of the attorneys I have been assigned was litigating a sentencing hearing for a guy who had convicted a couple months ago. As her intern, I got to go with her and actually sit at the prosecution table. My name was read and recorded as being in attendance and everything. Obviously, as I am not a lawyer, my role was watching and observing, but still... it was pretty sick. I think if I ultimately stick with it (which is seeming more likely, as none of the jobs I applied to have come through, and I am actually enjoying the work I do. It is such a shame that one cannot apprentice for being a lawyer any more, and that one has to be in school. I think my problems are more to do with the school part, not the actual lawyering part. It is so much more satisfying to do work that you know actually means something in the real world, and isn't just being submitted for a grade) I will definitely try to go into something in the criminal vein. I is just so...fascinating, particularly since it is so much of what you see on TV or something, now actually being played out in reality.

Anyway, that is probably enough for tonight. I do have work tomorrow. So I am going to read some Vanity Fair then hit the sack. The one thing New York hasn't been good for (aside from my wallet), is my iconoclasm. With all the fabulous things to buy, plus my discovery of Manhattan magazine, I am again falling into, "money is awesome!" mentality. Because it is. I love buying things, and so many cool, awesome, expensive things to buy. And I hate being a poor student. Seriously. I like doing my own thing, I like having fun, and I like doing things, and I like not being boring, but doing all of that costs money! Particularly after reading Manhattan, I was like, "hmmm maybe I should consider selling my soul for a few years doing transactional law for obscene amounts of money..." And then I pinched myself until the notion went away. Still, there is something to be said for not totally negating or writing off the benefits of trying to find a financially stable and lucrative job. Wouldn't it be nice if I could find a financially lucrative job that wasn't boring AND allowed me free time? Unfortunately, criminal work is usually paid for by the government, so I won't be raking in the dough any time soon. But at least it is really interesting; I won't be bored. That's got to count for something.

Actually, this all kind of reminds me of one of my favorite quotes ever, taken from The Sound of Music (even though I kind of hate that musical): "I like rich people. I like the way they live. I like the way I live when I am with them."

Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made

New York City. The Big Apple. That place I used to see in a lot of movies and TV shows. And now, I am here. For the next two months. This should be interesting.

I got in to the Big Apple at 6:30 AM local time, after a wonderful night flight/red eye out of SFO. My theory was, "Oh I will take the Red Eye, get like 5.5 hours of sleep, and be generally good to go." Except that I had been staying up kind of late the previous two nights, and was therefore not entirely sleepy at 10:30PM Pacific Time, when the flight took off. And then, some ASSHOLE on the plane was listening to their iPod so goddamn loud that I could hear their music through their m-f-ing headphones. I couldn't figure out who it was, or I would have bitched them the hell out right then and there. Something you should know about me: When I am tired, and want to be sleeping, and someone or something is preventing this from happening for a stupid reason, it is kind of an exercise in Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Kristin. AKA, I turn into a huge bitch. Sorry. Needless to say, I got about an hour of sleep. Maybe. At some point, it became pointless to try to sleep, so I watched 30 Rock on the plane instead. I had never seen 30 Rock before. I don't get why everyone likes it; Alec Baldwin was good, but the episode I saw was kind of stupid and not very funny. Like, it seemed like it was trying too hard to be funny, or something, and that made it not funny.

Anyway, I am currently residing on Lafayette Street, near Canal Street. My residence is at this odd juncture between Chinatown and SoHo, so it is this weird mix of super tacky/slightly sketchy/very dirty and like, at least on West Broadway, super upscale boutiques and art galleries carrying goods I probably will never be able to afford. On the plus side, I found an awesome burger joint on LaGuardia Place, a bit south of Washington Square. I can see it becoming a hangout of sorts. Plus, at least tonight, the waitstaff was super cute. And I couldn't tell if my waiter was flirting with me, or just doing good, attentive service. He fist-pumped me. Maybe it's a New York thing. I tipped him well, at least. And West Broadway is cool because there are artists on the street, selling their canvases right then and there. Some of them are quite good. Which would be awesome, if I actually had any disposable income to spend. Canal Street itself is an experience: it is basically a bunch of tourist shops selling "I Heart NY" stuff (I must admit, I did buy an "I Heart NY" keychain, so I could keep my room keys together) and a bunch of mostly Nigerian and Chinese people selling knockoff pretty much everything. If you are in need of a fake Louis Vuitton, let me know. Except not, as I will be a pseudo-officer of the court this summer (I will be interning in an office that prosecutes federal crimes), so I probably shouldn't be supporting or encouraging blatant patent infringement.

My first impression of New York was one of shock, and a little bit of disgust. Perhaps I have been spoiled by San Fran and Chicago (which, for all its other issues, is a very clean city), but New York is super dirty. Like, trash everywhere on the street, bags of trash just piled on street corners, and graffiti everywhere, particularly on those metal grate things they pull down after stores close. Some places are worse than others; Canal Street is absolutely gross in this regard, but West Broadway, Washington Square weren't so bad. And the subway. Omg. After 5 minutes in the station, I felt like I needed to shower right then and there. I try to avoid stepping in any liquid-looking things, as one can't tell if it is water or...something else. And this dirty feeling probably wasn't helped by the fact that it was like 90 degrees out today, and about 99% humidity, so I was permanently covered with a thin layer of my own dampness. Ew. But, after about a day, I got over my pristine-ness and the sometimes-grimeyness of New York doesn't bother me as much. And therefore, the city is starting to grow on me. I suppose in reality, it probably isn't much dirtier than Paris. The streets have a bit more litter on them, but the subways are about the same.

The interesting thing about New York, from my limited observations anyway, is it seems like people here are just generally more interesting, or at least have more interesting things going on compared to other places I have been. Perhaps my perspective is skewed by numerous TV shows and the fact that I arrived over a holiday weekend, but it seems like people here are always up to something, or always doing something, always seem to be engaged or going somewhere. There is a constant sense of busy and stuff happening. Even on Sunday nights. And yes, there is a bit more of an "edge" to people here. One of the first things I saw when I got to New York yesterday, was some guy dragging a cart just shove a lady out of his way because she was in his way. Nice. But, that kind of behavior has actually been in the minority. For the most part, people have either been nonchalant or actually nice. I think part of it might be positive reaction to my being polite and generally thoughtful; people seem to very positively react to my saying "please" and "thank you," moreso than in other places I have been. Maybe they aren't expecting it. Like, today I had to go to Nordstrom Rack because I noticed yesterday that a skirt my mom had bought me in December (I hadn't had an opportunity to wear it or look at it much, as it is a business skirt) still had the stupid security tag on it. I had called the Nordstrom info number, and was able to get the purchase info on the skirt to bring to the store, so I wouldn't be accused of stealing. Except that the lady at the counter didn't even question my story, and seemed surprised/appreciative that I had gone through the due diligence.

So, tomorrow starts my job. Today I did a "dry-run" to Brooklyn Heights, where I will be working, so I don't have to spent time tomorrow morning trying to find my way around as I get to work. Equals more sleep for me! The plaza with all of the state and federal buildings is pleasant; it has its own little park thing, and a lot of greenery. And it is not very hard to get too, thankfully. I did not have to make any transfers or anything. Very easy. I am so not looking forward to the subway at rush hour, during the hot an humid summer. I experienced hot, crowded, nasty subway commuting while I was studying in Paris, and I imagine it will be basically the same here, too. Ew. And I should probably bring an umbrella, because it might thunderstorm. I guess quick weather changes/surprise rain shouldn't really be a surprise to me as I have lived in the greater Ghicago area for five years, and it pretty much does the same thing. Still, one thing I have always appreciated about California, is the fact that for 5-6 months, it will pretty much reliably not rain, and we never really get humidity.

That's about it for today. Even though I have been to New York once before, it was only for a day and a half, and basically all confined to Times Square. It was such a whirlwind experience that it kind of exists as a blur in my memory, so I really feel like I am really experiencing this city for the first time. We shall see what tomorrow brings, and what this whole job thing is going to be about. Goals for tomorrow: find out where I can legally buy and register pocket mace (because as a solo lady in NYC, who will probably have to walk places after dark, if someone tries to mess with me, I want to be able to temporarily blind them. Because that is just the kind of gal I am.) and find out when, how, and how much my grant money will be getting to me, because living in New York City = burning money like its kindling (seriously, they weren't kidding about NYC prices).

SMASH

Another day, still uploading music to my mom's iTunes. Didn't know this was going to be such an epic project. And that's just the upload. Then there is the condensation of file memory so it can fit on her iPhone, then there is getting the album art, then there is making sure everything is set up and labeled right. Oy. No wonder I have been up until the wee hours several nights now. I didn't think it was possible, but she has more music than I do.

So, in my hours of fun around the computer, I have started watching online episodes of TV shows. Like, what else am I going to do? The first show I started watching was Duck Dynasty. And all I have to say is, wow. You know that old TV show, The Beverly Hillbillies? This is like a real-life version of that. Basically, it is a reality TV show about self-described rednecks living in Louisiana, who happen to be loaded. Because they made a crapton of money...manufacturing duck call whistles for hunting...yeah. Anyway, it is sort of nouveau riche taken to the extremes. A very awkward-but-hilarious blend of having a lot of money and doing the things people do when they have a lot of money (like buy wineries, except these guys don't know how to make wine or really anything about it), and your stereotypical "redneck" behavior (like trying to get fresh honey from a wild beehive. An alligator in the backyard also made an appearance). I can't really describe it as words don't do it justice; it is hilarious, but you need to watch the show to really "get" it. Also,for guys who look not-so-far removed from your average mountain men, the two brothers who run the company, Duck Commander, have like, hot wives. I guess that is what being a CEO of a successful company will do for you.

The other show that I have gotten into while doing this project, is SMASH (I am only on episode 11, so don't say what happens). I have to say, I really like it. But maybe that is just because I find it relatable. For those of you not familiar with the show, it is basically about people trying to put together a show and get it produced on Broadway. Once upon a time -- aka, high school -- I did theatre. And I hang out around a lot of theatre people, or theater groupies. So I find it to be a fairly accurate reflection of what little time I spent in and around the "scene." Ah, theater. What is the old saying? "You can take people out of high school, but you can't take high school out of people?" But, I think I am being too harsh on the theatre world. I think the big joke on all of us is, life is really high school. Whether it is backstage drama, or office politics, or whatever; we thought we graduated into a more sane, mature world. But no. Dun dun dun! Maybe that is why people end up settling down, starting families, etc.: they are trying to escape the madness. Of course, as we all know, family comes with its own share of drama. So anyway, here is my reaction to the show so far (WARNING! Some spoilers below):

1. I like Karen's character alright, she's nice enough, but I think she is really kind of flat, and remains naive. Like, I am on episode 11, and of all the characters, I think she has developed the least. She kind of just goes around in a newbie daze, and things (usually positive) just kind of...happen to her. Maybe it is because she is nice. But, it just seems a little flat. She isn't the character I end up rooting for, in the end, because you don't believe she really has anything at stake.

2. I like Ivy's character. At first you really don't, because she is a kniving bitch. But then you see why. And, at least I feel bad for her, because she kind of has a point. She's been striving and struggling in Broadway for years, and is way more "Marilyn"-esque than Karen, and I think is just as talented. But she kind of gets the shaft everywhere. So I understand and appreciate why she would play hardball. Of course, I also think Miranda Priestly (of The Devil Wears Prada fame) is a good roll model for the business world (as long as you can leave that persona at the door when you go home at night). But, I don't appreciate the direction the writers are going in. Like, turning her into Marilyn/having her life parallel Marilyn Monroe's, with the love-life drama, the pills, the crazy mother, etc. I think it feels kind of gimmicky. But what do I know?

3. Debra Messing's character: SELF CONTROL, DEBRA MESSING. HAVE SOME. Although I can't really blame her. She tried for like 3 or 4 episodes to get her old flame (with whom she had had an affair, it is revealed, five years previous to the world of this show)to back the F off, but he wouldn't take a hint, and actively pushed himself on her to reignite the old flame, even though she was very clear at the beginning that it was a bad idea and did not want to go there. By episode 11, the cat is out of the bag, and her home life and family life is in shambles, while the flame's is just fine. And he kind of just shrugs it off as, "Oh it was a mistake, I love my family, blah blah." Asshole. But it seems like everyone in the show, in some way, is attracted to someone they cannot have, often while in a relationship with someone else. In fact, some iteration of that exists for every main character. Maybe that is what the show is about, in the end: wanting what you can't have-- whether it is fame, a part, a lover. Perhaps that is ultimately the human condition. And, for the record, it sucks.

4. Uma Thurmond (aka in the show as Rebecca Duvall) as Marilyn? Really? But again, maybe that is the point. Although at the end of episode 11, she kind of has a breakthrough and stops sucking as much (once everyone gets over their star-struck, "yes-men" ways). Will be interesting to see what happens.

Also, as a side note: I wonder if my life in New York (for the next 10 weeks starting Sunday) will be this eventful and interesting? Probably not, as we have already established that my life is boring.

Speaking of wanting what you can't have, I heard from that job with which I interviewed. No go. Can't really say I am surprised. I think I may have come off as directionless once I explained why I was going to leave law school, and what I wanted to do in life. Which I guess is a fair assessment, since I am feeling rather directionless. Maybe this is another sign, as I have applied to probably 30 jobs, only got one interview, and didn't get the job. Maybe I should stop looking for signs. So, it looks as if my parents are going to get their wish by proxy, as I am not going to leave law school to work at McDonald's. I was only going to leave if I got an actual, responsible job. Incidentally, Mom took me shopping yesterday and I got several hundred dollars worth of clothes. I think it was a pretty explicit enticement for me to not leave law school. But again, as per above, she probably didn't need to do that. I do appreciate having new clothes, anyway. Although getting all of this to NY and then back to Chicago will be interesting.

That's all, folks. Back to CD uploading.

PS: I know I am late to the party on this (I am always late to the party on these things), but ADELE's album 21 is really good. I downloaded the other night, and cannot stop listening to it. Finally, someone who can sing without auto-tune!

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

Nights in White Satin

Unintended hiatus from blogging for the last few days, but honestly, not much has happened of note.

I did go hiking with my friend and her mom, which was awesome. It was on this private farm property up in Woodside, and for the art history geek in me, it was pretty sweet. The people who owned the many acres of farmage had statutes and other works of sculpture lining all of the hiking trails. It was super cool, and I learned yet another important life lesson: don't miss opportunities to experience life, to "work." My friend and I then went to see the new Johnny Depp movie, Dark Shadows. It was alright; it had all the ingredients to be a good movie (intriguing premise, source material, good actors, comedy potential, good production value), but suffered from a weak script. It seemed like the writers were suffering from trying to cram four years of the original show's plots and sub-plots into 90 minutes. This lead to a lack of character development outside of Johnny Depp's character, and none of the interpersonal relationships really went anywhere. Would have been better if they simplified it down to one or two central plots. The first half of the movie was the best, because it had all of the gags, riffing on some guy from the 1790s suddenly being plopped into the 1970s... Incidentally, ever since I watched that movie, I can't stop listening to 60s and 70s era music. Like, Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues in particular. Which I never really liked before. I don't know; movies with flawed/tortured yet somehow endearing male leads have weird effects on me.

In other news, my parents got home on Sunday. Everything on that front has been fine; no inherent awkwardness over the whole boyfriend-living-with-me thing. Incidentally, albeit with some parental coaxing, a bit of my old self (read: competitive) came out, and for some insane reason I decided to try to finish the writing competition, even without the damn book that I needed. Initially I had given up, because I knew that to try to do the write-on without all the needed material would be insane. If I am honest with myself, I think I did it because if Hell freezes over and I actually get on one of the journals, I will have hardcore bragging rights of, "I did this in 1.5 days, while y'all did it in 6." Needless to say, it was a cluster. I went down to my dad's office to work on it (because we don't have functional scanners at my parents' house, a clutch element of the competition). We didn't leave there until almost 3AM, and I was working right up until 6:55AM on Tuesday, 5 minutes before it was due. During the day, there was some hardcore scrambling to find this stupid Texas Law Review Manual of Style. By scrambling, I mean there was some Kristin-running-around-her-parents'-old-law-school to try to find this book, photocopying 2/3 of the 19th edition of the Bluebook because I couldn't check it out of the law library (that was the other good news-- I figured out that I had also forgotten my Bluebook in Chicago. Whomp.), working out of an 18th edition Bluebook (one edition older than the current one) borrowed from one of the associates at my dad's firm. Never did find it, said Screw It, and went on without it. I am pretty sure the editing portion of my submission is crap. But, I do think I managed to eek out a decent case note portion, so we shall see. I think my doing this was a latent variation on something I had always wanted to do: namely, in high school I considered trying to apply to Harvard. I had no real emotional investment in it; at the time, an Ivy League school was not what I wanted out of undergrad. But I was always curious about whether or not I could get in. Didn't ever apply to find out. This, I think, was kind of like that. But, if I do get a journal membership offer, apparently it will generally carry over if I leave school and then decide to come back. So, that's something.

Other than that, nothing new to report. Still no job offers, still no new interviews. I am starting to lose hope. I would really like the job I interviewed for last week, but it is starting to look like that won't happen. Oy. I just would really like some time to not be a student, and to start making my own money, and live like a real young adult, not one that is still dependent on her parents and the government. I would also like to start paying down my student loans because, let's face it, debt sucks. I can't tell you how much I want to start being my own person, and shaping my own life, and I cannot do that while I am a student-- at least, while I am a student who has never been anything else. But, it looks as if fate has other plans. I don't know what else to do. The kicker is, I really do think I am actually qualified for the jobs to which I have applied; I don't know what the problem is.

So, that was this week. Nothing exciting, really. My parents were out again this evening, so I took the opportunity to go to dinner on my own and have some "me" time. And by "me" time, I mean drive around for a while. Every time I need to think-- or to remember-- if I have the chance, I get in my car and turn up the tunage and drive for a while. I have a special route that I go on-- that will remain secret to me-- always the same route. So anyway, I was on this route tonight, and was just thinking. I wish I were more like I was in high school. I realize that back then, I was just generally a more chill and, I think, nicer person. Since college, I just get a lot more pissed off at things, at people, just in general. Perhaps it is because college exposes you to more of the world, and much of what I see... just disappoints me, more than anything. I remember when I was 16, 17, 18, I would move heaven and earth to do right by people, to be there. Now, I just don't have a lot of that feeling left. And I feel it, I feel what is lacking by not having that in me anymore. But, I just can't muster it. Who knows what happened; perhaps what Alyson Sheedy said in The Breakfast Club is right: "When you grow up, your heart dies." But then, the rest of that exchange is equally true for me: "Who cares?" "I care."

Of course, all of this (pensive, brooding thinking; endless Nights in White Satin listening) could be the result of the fact that, for a variety of reasons, being back home in California can mess with my head.

I Got a Bite! Aka, an Interview

Haven't written for a few days... a few hectic days... but I do have life updates!

First, I am free!! Well, sort of. I finished my last final on Monday, so I can officially kiss 1L good bye (and good riddance!). Alas, I still have the writing competition, which will suck up the next four days of my life. I am also back in California at my parent's house for the next couple weeks. Since they are currently in Phoenix at some...thing... for my dad's firm, I have the house to myself. Which would be more exciting, if I were more exciting. Right now, it has been me hanging out with the dog, Coco, and starting writing competition. Par-tay.

Also on Monday, I got a call from one of the *many* jobs to which I have been applying. It is essentially a PR position with a well-known academic institution in the city, and would primarily involve me writing, editing and forwarding PR announcements, letters, etc. There apparently would also be some travel-around-the-country involved (which, as someone who likes to be on the move, I am A-OK with this).

The phone interview for the job was on Tuesday. I think it went well, although it is always hard to tell on phone interviews, because you can't "read" the other person's body language. It went on for a half hour, and I made the lady laugh a couple times. I guess that is a good sign? And of course, I had to talk about the whole I-have-been-in-law-school-for-a-year thing. I was kind of worried about that... how do you talk about that without being awkward/sounding like a cop-out/lazy person/not dedicated person/flake? But, I decided that the best way to address it, was to hit it head-on, and just be honest and frank. Hopefully it worked, and wasn't awkward. The thing about awkwardness, though, that I have figured out, is that it is what you make of it. If you are self-conscious, if you focus on how "awkward" a situation is or will be, it will be awkward. It is like a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you go in with an attitude, of "Fuck it, I am here and this is happening," things actually tend to work out better. I compare situations where I have been self-concious, and situations where I...focus on other things... 9 time out of 10, the latter works out better.

At any rate, the job sounds like it would be interesting, fun, and definitely a much needed change of pace, while still allowing me to use and further develop skills I like to use (namely, writing, research, public speaking). And it pays pretty decently, too, which is always a plus. The lady interviewing me asked me what my "salary expectations" were for the positions. Salary expectations? Lady, I haven't had a real job except for working at summer camps and Toys R Us. Right now, as a student, I make negative income. ANY income would be a marked improvement. Not having to be on food stamps would be nice, beyond that anything else is a bonus. When she asked me to ballpark, I think I said something around 25K/year. It actually pays substantially more than that. Which is nice. I hope I get to the second round of interviews, because I think this would be a good opportunity for me. A good way for me to not be a student.

Which brings me to my next point. I saw my regular, California primary care doctor today, to ask her why she thinks my immune system has gone on an extended holiday. Her thoughts? Basically, she thinks my sleep disorder, while probably a disorder, was actually my body *needing* all that extra sleep to function. While most of the population does just dandy on 7-8 hours of sleep a night, some people need more. Like, perhaps my body does need 10 hours of sleep to function properly. Since I have been on the anti-sleepy drug, I have been feeling energized on the typical 7-8 hours, but she thinks that it might be masking my getting sleep deprived. And the no. one cause of immune system crashing, is not enough sleep. Awesome.

Well, that is all very well and good, and probably true. But unfortunately, the world isn't made for people who need ten hours of sleep a night. Particularly not law school, and particularly not the legal profession in general, where people tend to be over-worked and under a lot of stress. My doctor's opinion was, that to get through law school, I would just have to get more sleep at night, meaning that I would have to cut out most socializing, so that I could get all that work done early, go to bed, etc., etc. Which sucks. And if that is truly what I will need to do to maintain health but also not fall behind on my work, I don't know if I am prepared or willing to it. One works to live, not the other way around. And a lifestyle of class (or office hours)-homework-bed, would make me go nuts. The opinion of the doctor really started me thinking again, and is yet another reason to take some time and re-evaluate. Perhaps I am just going to have to admit defeat, admit to myself that I am not really a healthy person, and that to be in a high-pressure-cooker job, I will either have to give up my health, or my sanity. And I don't think I really want to do either. What is the point of success and security, if the quality of life sucks?

Life, man. Life.

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