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.

Battle Cry of an Iconoclast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

The Other Side of the Hedge

I truly believe that sometimes, life tarries in signs. Anyone who knows me, will tell you that I am not a religious person, and I have my reasons for that. But I have always felt, that there is some higher universal order-- what, I don't know-- that shows its self for time to time, dropping hints as we try to make decisions in our lives.

I wasn't going to write tonight, because nothing really exciting has happened today. But then I came across three "signs," that, given my current "state of flux," seemed particularly profound, one more than the last. The last pushed it over the edge.

First, on the most mundane level, the world seems to be conspiring against my completing the writing competition for law journals. One of the two reference books I desperately need, was sold out at the NU bookstore. I waited until I got to California to try to locate one, because I figured it wouldn't be that hard. I was wrong. It is near impossible to find, and near impossible to get until Monday, less than 24 hours before the project is due. Now, if I really wanted to move heaven and earth, I could probably drive around all over the South Bay, until I found a library that carries it. But, given how much time that will take, and how much reading I still have to do, there is no way that I would be able to finish this thing, without pulling yet another all-nighter. Possibly more than one. Which frankly, I am not willing to do. This whole thing seems to be a lot more about jumping through hoops, and less about substantive meaning. So, I probably won't finish the writing competition. Which, I am not too upset about, frankly. Instead of slaving over some bullshit make-work, trying to get another resume "notch" in my belt, I am going hiking tomorrow with one of my friends from high school, since she is briefly in town. And I have no regrets. There is something really freeing in defying the "ought," the expectation that work/prestige/success > everything else.

Which brings me to sign number two. Now, I am not the biggest fan of many of Mitt Romney's political positions, but I do like to believe I give credit where credit is due, and the man has hit it on the head about the appropriate life balance. This quote-- which I ran across in my daily perusal of Yahoo! articles-- pretty much sums up the appropriate "work-life" balance. It struck me as so true, I was willing to ignore the fact it was given during his commencement speech at the sketch-tastic Liberty University.

"I have never once regretted missing any experience or opportunity in business in order to be with my wife and five sons. Regrets usually come the other way around, from missing moments with your children that don't come again. The same holds true for time with your parents as the years fall away. Among the things in life that can be put off, being there when it matters most isn't one of them."

Basically, the Republican nominee, and potential next President of the United States, has publicly stated what more and more people of my generation (I think? Or maybe it's just me?) are starting to figure out. The good life? The right work-life balance? Is more life and less work. As I have said before, one works to live, not the other way around. This quote, pretty much distilled and brought into stark light, my evolving life philosophy. Some people want to be the next Carly Fiorina, the next multi-billionaire who counts his or her success by the number of cars in the garage, the white picket fence. Some people want power and prestige, want to rule their corner of the world. That is great for those people; I am learning, I am realizing, that I am not one of those people. I get my true happiness-- not the fleeting warm feeling of "good job" from some third party-- by moments in life, whether in solitude "me" time, hanging with friends, or being with family. Not from "stuff" or how much extra money is in my bank account. A job, or a life, where I would continually have to give up these moments-- even if small, even if just the ability to relax after a long day-- would just turn me into a bitter, angry person. In a moment of hubris, I will say that, if I put all my energy into it, I probably could be one of those people. I like to think anyway, that I am fairly smart and resourceful. But at what cost? So, I am going hiking tomorrow.

And, on a more metaphysical level, sign three. Instead of reading late into the night, the many cases for the competition, I decided to settle into bed a little early, and read a work of fiction that has not been assigned to me. Something I haven't had time to do in ages, and something I really miss. So I started in on an old book of short stories, one from high school. I was reading some pretty interesting, but straightforward stuff. A story by Hemingway, for example. And then I came to a short work by E.M. Forster, The Other Side of the Hedge. Although it is only seven or eight pages long, it is incredibly complex, and incredibly metaphysical, allegorical, and philosophical. I am sure some English Masters student could have a field day with it (and one probably has). But the point is, this story-- from which I got the title of today's post-- points out the fallacy of the kind of always-achieving, always-pushing-forward life we all have been told, or have been telling ourselves, that we want, or should want.

It would take much too much space to get into everything here, but basically the story tells of a guy running on an endless, dusty road. It tells of his scorn for those who have lagged behind. But, there is this hedge that always lines the road. Early on, after running, running, running down this road, the guy collapses in exhaustion. He feels a cool breeze coming from the hedge, so he steps off the road and goes through the hedge, to its other side, to investigate. What he finds a paradise-like environment, with cool ponds and green, rolling hills. People are there, and they carry on and run around and stuff, but never in a pointed direction, unlike the road people. The guy spends most of the story ridiculing the people he sees, going on and on about how the point of human existence is progress, to continue on the road, to "get somewhere." Basically, though, the point of the story is that, for all that the road really is endless, until one gets to the end point-- death-- at which time, the road leads back to the paradise-- everyone end up in the same place. The guide taking the guy around-- who turns out to be the guy's brother, who he had left "on the side of the road" because his brother has "wasted" his time singing, and his energy helping people-- also shows that the "road" doesn't really go on and on into endless progress, but really doubles back and back, never really getting too far away from the beginning of this road (which the guy is shown), from which all humans began their endless race. The point of all this, was that the people who were in this paradise, were content to just be, and not enslaved by an endless and somewhat futile drive to carry on and on. They were truly happy, while the others were burdened by the necessity of the road. The guide pointed out that, once someone from the road came to this new paradise, they never went back. At the end of the story, the guy finally comes round, and abandons himself to the simple pleasures and truth of paradise.

Given our highly competitive society, where "success" as defined by accolades or progress or material measures is paramount, I thought this story particularly apt. It made me realize, yet again, that there are multiple definitions of success, and that perhaps being on "the road" is not the, or at least not the only, way to find contentment in this life, and is, perhaps, actually a poor way of conducting one's life. So, perhaps I need to get off the road for a while, and find my own "other side of the hedge." I feel a lot of us are told just to keep going down the road, to keep at it, because what we will find will always be worth it. But what if, that road-- like the road in the story-- really is dusty and endless, not really leading you anywhere further, for all of your struggling? Anyway, I would encourage anyone who can to read it. It gives a lot of food for thought. Might have to read it more than once, though.

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