The 3L word, Esq.

Whoa.

2007-06-08T02:08:00.000-04:00

Sure has been awhile. I'm not even sure where to begin here, or even if it makes sense to write here anymore. My gut tells me no, that it doesn't, that it's best to move on to a different space here. And yet.

There's something about this space, this blog, that I like. I like the kinds of things I wrote about and thought about. I like that I can write as long or as short as I want.

But I also know that this blog captured a moment in my life, a time that doesn't quite exist in the same way, and that I'd want my blog now to talk about different things, things that don't quite make sense to me to do in as public a forum as this blog sometimes felt.

And I've also just realized that I am a different writer now, two years after graduating law school. I think my writing is shorter, cleaner. More precise. But also, colder. Maybe.

So, I'm back. Sort of. Maybe I'll give a link to my new blog. When I decide what it's going to be.

Stefan Presser, 52

2005-10-09T22:48:00.000-04:00

Stefan Presser, former legal director of the ACLU of Pennsylvania, died over the weekend from brain cancer. He was 52.

I did not know Stefan well, which is to say that I barely knew him at all. But for about a year, when I also worked at the ACLU in '94-'95, my office was next to his. I was the public education coordinator and assistant to the executive director at the time.

What I remember about Stefan was his passion. He seemed to me to be passionate about most everything he did, and in particular, his legal work, and his children, and righting injustices. I remember how excited he was the night he found out one of his cases had been certified as a class action. The way he listened intently to his clients, as if he was absorbing their words with every bit of his body. The careful attention he paid to the phone messages that Frank, the elderly intake counselor, would give him.

When law professors speak of being a "zealous advocate" for clients, they were talking about Stefan. He was the real deal, the embodiment of zeolous advocacy. As we say in the Jewish tradition, may his memory be a blessing.

Passage to the Other Side

2005-10-06T14:26:00.000-04:00

I found out this morning that I passed the Pennsylvania Bar Exam. I did it. Despite the summer's craziness, I passed.

It was all worth it.

Conscious Living

2005-09-03T23:32:00.000-04:00

I stopped watching television earlier this week. Gone. Cold turkey. I haven't turned it on since sometime Monday or Tuesday. I wasn't watching much before then, but I've been thinking about the job I'm starting next week, and how I'm going to work into my days and weeks all of the things I want to do. And television seemed like the easiest thing to cut out.

I don't handle television well. I rarely watch just one show. I get sucked into Real World marathons, or episode after episode of Friends, or Sex in the City. I sit down, and then before I know it, I'm prone on the couch, channel-surfing. Hours go by, and then my eyes glaze over and drool is running down my face. Sure, it's a peaceful existence. But here's the thing: I think TV generally makes me unhappy. It blocks me from doing things that make me happy, like being outside, or with friends, or writing, or drawing, or exercising, or cooking, or baking, and the end result is I'm kind of dissatisfied and restless, and a little bit grumpy, even.

So I've begun my television cessation program. I've made a conscious decision to walk by my television. To not turn it on. I don't mean to say that I won't ever watch television again. I will. And I'm not advocating that others should stop watching TV. I'm just trying to do it in a way that feels more, well, conscious. Where it's actually a decision, and not just a reflex.

Marrying Me

2005-08-30T23:33:00.000-04:00

A few days after my ex-girlfriend broke up with me, I got engaged. I bought a ring: it's multi-colored and silver, and it was made in Nepal. I bought it for $13.50, plus tax, at the First United Methodist Church of Germantown bazaar (whose out lesbian pastor was recently defrocked).

I wrote out a whole series of commitments I was willing to make -- to myself. I decided to marry me.

This was not my idea. The first person I ever knew to marry herself was the best friend of my ex's. She had a ceremony and vows, and when I heard about it, I thought it was a great idea. What better way of expressing your love for yourself?

Except that I'm not ready to walk down the aisle yet. I didn't want to jump into anything too quickly. So I'm having a long engagement.

I've given up my dream of being in the New York Times Style section with my (currently non-existent) beau. It really wasn't so much of a dream as another achievement to tick off of some list in my head. But the list wasn't my own, so I've been trying to get rid of it, one by one.

The engagement's been a rocky road: I'm not the easiest person in the world to have a relationship with. I steal all of the covers. I sleep diagonally. I take long showers. I often leave my shoes in the middle of the floor, or don't do my laundry for a couple of weeks. I sometimes get grumpy, and can't figure out quite what to do to un-grump. I take a long time to make decisions. I am a perfectionist. I need time alone to check in with myself and re-connect. I have a hard time asking for what I need, though I am getting better at it.

But I make up funny songs, and poems, and like to draw and write, and be outside. I like to smile, and laugh. I bake great chocolate chip cookies and brownies, and make delicious hot fudge. I am well-read. I'm passionate about politics. I try new things and places. I care about being a better person, and knowing myself better. I like being connected to the world around me. I have a long list of things that I want to try or learn, and I don't ever plan to be bored. I am affectionate. I like touch. On my best days, I am gentle, and sweet, and caring. I am learning to take good care of myself.

I'm taking it slowly, and when the time comes, I'll get married on the beach, in shorts and flip-flops, to myself. I might have a couple of guests, and maybe we'll drink champagne or dance under the stars. Or maybe, I'll just smile to myself, happy to be my own best friend, happy to know the big secret: that I'm the only one who can make me whole.

When things could be different

2005-08-29T04:16:00.000-04:00

It's late, and I'm awake, and I'm wishing right now that things were different than they are. I'm sad about the end of my relationship. I wish that I could write something funny or witty or even relevant to your life right now. About the bar exam, or my travels up and down the East Coast. I've seen lots of things that would be fun to write about. But I can't do that tonight.

Tonight, I can only say that break-ups are hard, and complicated, and that I am profoundly sad about the end of my relationship in the deepest parts of me.

Summer Sky

2005-08-18T23:41:00.000-04:00

The moon led me home tonight. I was driving back from the mall, having bought a birthday present for my niece, who turned 8 today. I was on the Schulykill Expressway when I looked up, and there she was, in front of me, hanging in the sky, just about whole, and orangey white. She played hide-and-seek for awhile as I made the 20-minute drive, disappearing behind clouds. But then she reappeared, covered in just the finest layer of fog, like an almost-sheer evening gown. Always the host, she took me to my doorstep, and waited until I was safely inside, before disappearing again, and saying good night.

When You Gotta Go

2005-08-18T13:27:00.000-04:00

Like most people, I'm a fan of clean public bathrooms. And these days, I'm often wandering around Philadelphia, without a home base to pee from.

So when I have to go, it's helpful to have a sense of the city's restrooms. For example, the ones at Borders (Broad and Chestnut) and Barnes & Noble (across from Rittenhouse Square), while easily accessible, are just plain gross, but good in a pinch.

But my favorite are the restrooms at the Sofitel, the swank hotel on 17th and Sansom. They're on the second floor, tucked away, and are clean and luxurious. By clean, I mean, well, CLEAN. And by luxurious, I mean that each individual stall is like its own little room: fully enclosed, four walls, with floor-to-ceiling wooden doors with gold doorknobs. And they have those fluffy paper towels that are paper but feel more like cloth. Lastly, they're generally pretty empty, which is nice for when you need a, umm, private moment.

In any case, it's nice to have a home base in a pinch. And, you can enter the hotel on the side (Sansom Street) so you don't have to walk by the knowing glances of the front desk staff, though I have entered through the front, too, on 17th Street, and they're friendly even to non-tourist-non-conventioneer-non-button-down-business-looking-folks like me.

The Life of a Sloth

2005-08-16T15:51:00.000-04:00

I think my brain is wilting. I imagine it might be as my peace lillies were when I got home from my last trip, sort of droopy and a little bit brown, and very thirsty. That's how my brain feels, three weeks after the bar exam began. I've been traveling a lot, and until yesterday morning, have barely been home. I haven't unpacked from my trip to Naples (Florida, not Italy) and am only just about un-hung-over from Saturday night's monster post-bar-exam bash. The time off -- about 5 weeks from the end of the bar exam until I begin my job -- is flying by, too fast, too blurry and I just want it to last, for it not to end, to keep having fun and being outside and traveling and seeing a lot of the people I love to see.

I feel clunky writing again, after time away, clumsy as I type. And yet I know that it's one of the primary ways that I remain connected to myself and the world around me, and that it will feel good to get back into the groove. No writing = bad sign. This happens periodically, I know... I stop writing for one reason or another (in this case, bar exam and post-bar-travel) and then the writing thoughts just build up in my brain, piled higher and higher and higher, alongside the unreturned emails or phone calls or mail, until it's just about ready to trickle out, dribbling out of my head onto the page. The trickle turns stronger, then soon a gush, and well, here I am. Good to see you again.

After Bar

2005-08-02T10:29:00.000-04:00

I'm headed out of town to visit my college roommate for a few days in upstate New York. I'll update when I get back, at the end of the week, with full details of the bar 'xam. Lots to write and think about.

Done.

2005-07-29T17:19:00.000-04:00

And I've got the hangover to prove it.

Almost There: Countdown to the Bar Exam

2005-07-25T07:47:00.000-04:00

Leaving for the hotel in just a few hours, and then the bar exam starts 24.5 hours from now. I'm almost all packed, and then plan on studying the Pennsylvania-only subjects for the rest of the day, jamming them in just long enough to remember to write down tomorrow.

Right now, it feels sort of like when you're riding a roller coaster, and you're getting up near the top, and it's too late to get off and you know that there's no way down, except, well, down. And you're terrified and excited and happy and terrified and you just hope that it all goes okay and you open your mouth to scream except that nothing comes out. That's how this feels.

Except along with it, there are all of these people -- friends and family and people I love and like and some who I barely know -- who have sent words and thoughts and prayers and notes and phone calls and funny stories of encouragement, and some came when I felt most discouraged. I feel like they are all there, too, cheering me along. It's a great feeling. I am thankful for that.

And now, I can see it: see taking the exam, how it feels writing and focusing and concentrating... and then... over, passing, becoming an attorney. It's so close now. Let it be so.

Law & Order Trivia: Jack McCoy's Law School

2005-07-24T15:55:00.000-04:00

We interrupt our regularly scheduled bar-exam programming for something potentially more interesting...

A reader, Zelda, emailed me and said that on Law & Order, Jack McCoy and Serena "I came out of the closet on my last episode on the show" Southerlyn went to the same law school. But Zelda didn't know the name of the law school, and neither do I. Anyone out there know?

The Difference Between Two Days Ago and Today

2005-07-23T17:41:00.000-04:00

Two days ago, when I went to the bathroom, my flashcards stayed outside, patiently awaiting my return. Now, they come with me.

My So-Called Life

2005-07-22T21:28:00.000-04:00

I've gotten so boring these last couple of weeks. I've been trying to fight it, but today, I think it's finally gotten the best of me. When a friend asked if I was going out tonight, I told her that I had used up all of my free time getting a haricut. Haircuts, no matter how broadly construed, should not be considered social activities. And yet, today, it was.

Six days from now, it will all be over.

2 Gay Teens Executed in Iran

2005-07-22T07:59:00.000-04:00

Consensual gay sex is punishable by death in the Islamic Republic of Iran. Two teens were hanged earlier this week for the "crime" of homosexuality. Horrifying article and pictures of their last moments is here.

Back in the Abyss: PMBR Redux

2005-07-21T21:26:00.000-04:00

Oh, it was so fleeting, the moment that I was feeling good about this hazing ritual. And now, it's gone, after a day spent taking the second PMBR simulated exam.

The good news: My score has improved dramatically from the first 3-day course test.

The bad news: I'm not sure it's good enough to pass.

And again, I'm back to prayer. And flash cards. And more questions. And more essays. 4 days to go. Please let me pass.

Because We Need Another White Man in U.S. Government

2005-07-21T18:49:00.000-04:00

Okay, so this post is a little late to the party, but I couldn't resist writing it anyway. According to the 2000 census, 49.1% of Americans are male, and 50.9% are female. (The census does not currently try to identify transgender people, or intersex people, or anyone who does not fit the male-female binary.) 75.1 percent identify as white; 12.3% as black or African-American; 3.6 percent as Asian, .9 as American Indian or Alaska Native, .1 percent as Hawaiian or Pacific Islander, 5.5% as another race, and 2.4% identify as two or more races.

And yet Bush thought it was important to nominate another white man to the Supreme Court. That would make 7/9 of the Supreme Court white men. 1/9 African-American men. 1/9 women. Because white men are doing such a great job when they are appointed to leadership roles in the U.S. government.

Mens Rea 5.5 Days Before the Bar: Nauseous

2005-07-20T20:28:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure what happened today, but I am now permanently vomitous. As in, I want to vomit. All the time.

The day started off well enough: lots of PMBR MBE questions, and I'm actually within the passing range, which feels a little like Christmas in July to me.

But tonight, after dinner, I realized that one week from now, I would be finished with the Pennslvania bar exam and on my way to New Jersey for Day #3. And that's when I reached for the Pepto-Bismol.

And then bargaining begins. "Please, God, please let me pass. I'll do anything. I'll go to temple/church/mosque every Saturday/Sunday/daily. I'll make sure and do lots of pro bono hours. I'll donate regularly to charity. I'll help the poor. I'll use my lawyering for good, not evil. I'll not gloat when the Yankees are in first place."

Please. Just let me pass.

Hello Darkness: Bar Exam Hotel Rooms Gone Awry

2005-07-20T06:35:00.000-04:00

I joked about the Fantasy Suites at the Radisson Valley Forge, here and in real life with friends. The no-window themed rooms. I joked that I wanted to stay in one of them, that I thought it would be really funny. I sort of wanted Cleopatra's Tent, or Gilligan's Island. I thought it would be like the race-car bed I never had.

And then I got my confirmation from the Radisson.

I am in a windowless room.

Who builds hotel rooms and leaves off the windows? I mean, isn't that sort of a basic amenity? Like, something you need to get a one-star rating from AAA?

The lovely woman at the Radisson I spoke with told me that they had nothing left except windowless rooms and smoking rooms. Of course, I would have appreciated them telling me this when I made my reservation, dutifully checking off "non-smoking, queen-sized bed."

There was no box to check for windows.

Hello, darkness, my old friend. Between the windowless room and my exile in northern New Jersey for the third day of the exam, well, I'm beginning to feel a bit like Job of the bar. Though I have been assured that my windowless room is not, in fact, a Fantasy Suite, but intead, is an executive suite. What executive would want a room with no windows?

But theoretically, it's on the first floor, instead of the 15th, and very far away from the ice machine, the lobby, or anything else that might prevent me from being perky for the bar. Or as perky as one might be able to be in a windowless room.

I'm like a little plant. I need sunlight to flourish, and I'm afraid this might make me wilty.

I thought about calling back, trying to get another room. But a friend of mine tells me that as long as I have the giant whirlpool bathtub, and the ability to rent movies, really, I won't need anything else. I'm going with that, trying to rally and concentrate on important things, like the Mailbox Rule or Shelley's Case or the Doctrine of Worthier Title. Really, I'm happy about my windowless room.

And by happy, I mean I feel like banging my head against the wall.

Bar Exam Exile, New Jersey style

2005-07-19T00:03:00.000-04:00

I was born and raised in central New Jersey (around exit 138, thank you very much). It was a nice place to grow up. Or something approximating a nice place to grow up when you're 15 and it's 1988 and you realize that you're gay.

Anyway, my family still lives there, so I have a certain affinity for the state. They've been supportive of me going to law school, and they already ask me legal questions that I don't know the answers to, and I figure it's only going to get worse, which is probably the reason not to take the New Jersey bar, but I thought they'd be crushed, so well, what's one more day of essays?

But I've been exiled by the New Jersey bar examiners.

I am convinced that I am the only person who is taking the New Jersey bar exam at the Birchwood Manor. I am convinced that the other candidate numbers that are listed to take the exam at BM, as I like to refer to it, are shams, straw numbers made up to make my exile seem legit.

Now, my grandmother tells me the Birchwood Manor is a lovely place. That may be true. She's eaten there several times. It looks like a lovely place, sort of like where I had my bat mitzvah, which was sort of like a mini-wedding. Which, quite frankly, makes it feel a little weird to be taking the bar there. The bar is, umm, not so much like a big fancy party with passed hors d'oeuvres and a nice Viennese table. And I will not be wearing my bat mitzvah dress, which I am sorry to say I believe involved tafetta. Peach tafetta.

Anyway, the Birchwood Manor is a hike from Philadelphia. It is off of Exit 14 of the New Jersey Turnpike, which makes it, like 100 miles from the Pennsylvania bar exam site. I must have pissed someone off. Seriously.

All the other Philly-NJ bar takers I have asked -- and I have asked quite a few -- are in Somerset (exit 10), which is a scant 70 miles from Valley Forge. I mean, still a hike, but, umm, less of a hike. More like a long walk.

As I imagine it, I'm the only one taking the bar at BM. I'm going to walk in, and it will be just me, all alone with my essay questions. Maybe I'll wear my party dress after all.

Yanks in First Place

2005-07-19T00:01:00.000-04:00

Woohoo. (Slightly subdued from an overloaded brain and a long day of bar studying.)

In It

2005-07-18T07:41:00.000-04:00

Life has become pretty dull around here. I eat, sleep, and drink the bar exam. I have hundreds of flash cards and I am trying to cram it all into my brain before the start of the exam a week from tomorrow.

I wake up every morning around 7, no matter what time I have gone to sleep the night before. I don't need an alarm clock. This is good: my body is trained. But the eyes-fly-open, nausea-in-the-pit-of-my-stomach feeling... that, I could do without. I have bought lots of Pepto-Bismol. Mnemonic devices pop into my head and it is soothing when I can remember what they stand for.

I go over to my best friend's house, and I sit at her dining room table, and I look at my watch and I study. At the end of every hour, I give myself a little mark on an index card. It is a way to keep track of the time. I turn on my iPod, and sometimes, sing out loud, all the while studying. A couple of times a day, I eat something, though it doesn't much matter what, as it all makes me feel vaguely ill. At night, I get to watch some TV. It has become a highlight of the day.

Today, I am going to try and go to the gym. I thought it would be good to do something physical.

This will all be over in 12 days, and I can't tell if that is terrifying or comforting, or both, all at once.

Last Call

2005-07-17T00:34:00.000-04:00

I went to, perhaps, my last big social event before the bar exam tonight. It was worth it and I'm glad I made the time to go. I've never laughed so hard.

It felt good to be among regular people (skewed toward attorneys), laughing and drinking and talking and doing the things that regular people usually do. My life feels out of whack right now, and even though I know it's short-lived, and for a good cause, it's still tough to go through, especially during the summer.

Summertime is for going out. For drinking. For laughing. For being outside and walking around the city. For hanging out with friends, for meeting new people, for flirting, for reconnecting after the long winter. For dancing. For talking. For being around the energy that is particular to the summer, the stay-up-late, stays-light-til-9, warm-outside-don't-need-a-jacket weather.

For so long, I have planned to go someplace exotic after the bar, someplace I've never been, a big, giant-once-in-a-lifetime trip. My ex-partner and I talked a lot about going to Italy, and after she broke up with me, I thought that I might still go by myself. But right now, I like the idea of just driving around the U.S., and staying close to home, seeing people I like and love who I have seen far too little of in the last 3 years. Seeing people who make me laugh and who I feel connected with. I think that might be what I want to look forward to most after the bar exam.

Bar Mnemonics

2005-07-15T23:31:00.000-04:00

Favorites from over at A Girl Walks into a Bar (Exam):

For Contracts Questions:

Until Fall, Test Pressure, Exhaustion, Both Threaten Romance

U: UCC or CL
F: Formation
T: Terms of K
P: Performance
E: Excuses
B: Breach
T: Third Party Issues
R: Remedies

For Collateral Estoppel:

PIANO

Party in prior lawsuit
Identical issue
Actually litigated and determined
Necessarily determined
Opportunity to litigate (full and fair)

HEARSAY EXCEPTIONS:

BAD SPLITS, PEPPI

B Business records
A Admission by party opponent
D Dying declaration

S Spontaneous statements (excited utterance and present sense impression
P Past recollection recorded
L Learned treatise
I Interest Declaration against
T Testimony, Former
S State of mind or condition

P Public records
E Equivalency (residual, catch-all)
P Prior inconsistent statement
P Prior consistent statement
I Identification

SOF:ORGASM

One year
Real estate
Goods $500
Administraor/Executor/Agency
Surety
Marriage

Ordinarily one owes no duty to another unless SCRAP:

Statutory
Contract
Relationship (special like spousal, parent child...)
Assumption of duty
Peril (if one causes it)

Martha and Me

2005-07-15T17:55:00.000-04:00

These days, I feel a special connection, a cameraderie, with Martha Stewart. We're both in lockdown, only allowed out for a few hours every day. Of course, I don't have to wear the black ankle bracelet, and I don't have the 150-acre estate, or the probation officer, but still.

Suddenly, everyday things have become special treats. Like showering. Or washing dishes. Or changing my sheets. When did laundry become something to look forward to?

Tomorrow, I'm going to a birthday party -- an actual social event. But here's the thing: I'm not sure that I can actually string words together anymore.

I went to a diner for lunch today with my best friend (it was a working lunch, quizzing each other on mnemonics the whole time) and the waitress asked me a bunch of questions. It sort of went like this:

Waitress: How would you like your eggs?

Me: Ummm.

Waitress: White, wheat or rye toast?

Me: Umm.

Waitress: What kind of juice?

Me: I'd like my eggs scrambled.

It's like I'm on some kind of 7-second time delay. And I'm not sure I can hold up a conversation without blurting out a pneumonic device or something I've remembered, in a Tourettte's kind of way. Like: "The Fireman's Rule applies to police officers, too" or "The warranty of habitability only applies to residential leases" or "Fee simple determinables have the possibility of reverter." I have lost the fragile grasp I once had on the outside world.

I can't wait to get my brain back.

Sophie's Choice

2005-07-15T08:48:00.000-04:00

For the last 8 weeks, I have had a 20 oz. cup of coffee from WaWa at 8:30 every morning. I am addicted to caffeine. If I do not have that cup of coffee, I will get a horrible caffeine-withdrawal headache.

But I have apparently picked up a nastly little intestinal bug, and well, coffee is just about the last thing I want to put in my stomach right now.

So there's the dilemma: coffee or no coffee? Either way, I think it's going to be bad.

UPDATE: I chose coffee, pragmatically. Without it, I thought my head would hurt too much, and it would be harder to study. I figured I could study, err, anywhere.

Yanks Over Sox

2005-07-14T23:33:00.000-04:00

I'd just like to take this opportunity to gloat over my New England friends who have the bad taste to be Sox fans. Yankees won tonight, of course, 8-6. I think they may sweep the series. This puts them a scant 1.5 games out of first place.

Best Fruit Dip, Ever

2005-07-14T13:04:00.000-04:00

Mix 1/2 part Fluff and 1/2 part cream cheese until well-blended and slightly fluffy. Chill and serve with fruit.

Okay, now granted, it's not a fancy fruit dip. And if you tell party guests what's in it, they might look at you slightly askance. I mean, you're serving them Fluff. But really, it is the best dip ever. Doesn't really taste Fluff-like. It's creamy and sweet, but not too sweet, and goes really well with strawberries.

Things to Ponder While Studying Future Interests in Property

2005-07-14T10:48:00.000-04:00

Why does my lumbar support pillow have a warning label on it? It says, "Not to be used for sleeping" and "For decorative purposes only."

Why can't it be used for sleeping? I mean, it's a pillow. And if it's for decorative purposes, why do they call it a Lumbar Support? Why don't they just call it a Squishy Cushion?

The New Jersey Board of Examiners makes bar candidates write a letter if they need to bring in anything not on the approved list. So when I right my required letter to them to bring in a "special device" (which makes me feel vaguely naughty), how do I reference it? Should I say I want to bring in my Lumbar Support pillow (not to be used for sleeping), or should I just say I'd like to bring in a Squishy Cushion?

How Law School Graduates Talk

2005-07-14T10:21:00.000-04:00

I noticed yesterday that law school graduates, at least the ones I know, no longer speak traditional English. We now all speak some version of legalese, but it's not like we're talking about legal matters. Usually, it's related to romantic or dating interests.

Here is a partial list of phrases I have heard from recent law school graduates in the past month:

1. "In the interest of full disclosure..." [insert some personal revelation here, like "I'm dating someone else besides you," or "I hooked up last night," or "I got so drunk I spent the night praying to the porcelain gods..."]

2. "I concur." [to be used instead of "That sounds good to me," or "I agree with what you're saying."]

3. "My docket is full," or "I have room on my docket." [referring to people you are dating, and whether you may or may not have room to date additional people]

4. "Was it reasonably foreseeable....?" [that she would have a girlfriend, that the movie would be sold out, that you would bomb the simulated MBE BarBri exam]

and my personal favorite...

5. "I got her to admit that she was constructively dating [insert woman's name]."

This is not normal.

UPDATE: 6. "It's great that X wants to date Y, but Y has to want to date X, too. It's got to be a BILATERAL CONTRACT."

UPDATE: 7. This morning's gem: "I don't play 'hide the ball' with her" [referencing clear, open communication about relationships.]

Good News From the Abyss

2005-07-13T07:15:00.000-04:00

I performed terribly on the BarBri simulated MBE, and just as badly on the PMBR simulated MBE a week later. I mean, really badly. Now, granted, I hadn't really studied thoroughly. Or consistently. I was unfocused. I've had a lot going on to distract me.

But still. I do want to pass this thing.

And right now, things have been looking up since Friday, when I spent a good portion of the night bawling uncontrollably to my best friend. (Yes, it was very sad. I am not a crier by nature, and when it happens, well, I think it surprises everyone a little, myself included. And quite frankly, it's happened a bit too often in the past two months for my comfort, what with the breakup and all.)

Anyway. I digress. Back to the happy ending. First, I bought Melissa Ferrick's new CD, The Other Side, which is great. But mostly, I've been studying, which has had a (surprisingly) calming effect. And today, I got back one of my BarBri graded essays. I did it in about 30 minutes one morning, a few weeks ago, without any advance prep. And here's the thing: I GOT A PASSING GRADE! Sure, the examiner tore apart my essay. I got some of the law wrong. And I didn't quite follow CRAC. But it was passing. PASSING! Perhaps I have emerged from the abyss of bar terror. Perhaps.

God, PMBR, BarBri and the Bar

2005-07-12T23:24:00.000-04:00

I think organized religion is missing a huge untapped market: bar candidates.

I am not a religious person, though I like going to (progressive, liberal) religious things sometimes.

But I now pray regularly. Five or six times a day. I pray for divine intervention. I pray to dead relatives. I pray to gods of all persuasions. This morning, I said the Shma'a, the holiest of Jewish prayers. During BarBri's mini-bar, I said a quick Our Father. And tonight, some mindful meditation.

Mostly, I pray for bar passage. I pray not to have to do this again in February. I pray that my studying, which is come-lately, will be enough. I pray that I will be able to remember it all, that it won't leak out of my head in the middle of the night. I pray that I won't lose my breakfast the mornings of the exam. I pray that I will have the attention span and emotional stamina to stay focused. I pray that other people are praying for me. I pray that all the praying will be enough. And, mostly, I pray that I don't get one of the Fantasy Suites at the Radisson Hotel Valley Forge, the site of the Pennsylvania Bar Exam, because quite frankly, they scare me.

In Memoriam: Katie Worsky

2005-07-12T07:00:00.000-04:00

Twenty-three years ago, on July 12, 1982, my cousin Katie disappeared from her friend's house. Vanished, as if into thin air.

She was 12. Katie was slight, tomboyish, with blonde hair and buck teeth. She was diabetic and took insulin shots. She liked to fish and run around, and she was mischievous. She had a great smile, and a Southern accent that would make you know in an instant that she was from Virginia. She is missed. Her body was never found.

Glenn Barker was charged with Katie's murder, and convicted of second-degree murder in 1983. He served 9 years in jail before being released on parole.

I was 11 when I watched the trial of my cousin's killer. I remember how sweet and soft-spoken the prosecutor was. I remember that I was wearing shorts, and the wooden benches stuck to the back of my legs. I remember I hated Glenn Barker. I remember thinking that Katie would walk through the door any minute, that she was just playing a trick on us. But most of all, I remember that I wanted to be like that prosecutor, that I wanted to be a lawyer.

It's so close now. I've finished law school, my diploma safely stored in the back of my closet. After such a long time, there's only one hurdle left, the bar exam. And then, finally, I will be a lawyer.

Iced Coffee and Metal Spoons

2005-07-11T16:10:00.000-04:00

I have been making iced coffee since I was a teenager. I learned from my mom. I have always put a metal spoon in the glass, along with the ice, as she did. She told me to always do this, because the spoon absorbs the heat from the coffee and prevents the glass from cracking.

Is this really true? I mean, it sounds like it should be true: metal is a good conductor of heat, and so takes the heat away from the coffee and the glass. Or did she just make it up somewhere along the way, and I have always done it that way because she does it that way?

Turning Into a Trained Monkey

2005-07-11T14:02:00.000-04:00

15 hours into my 3-day PMBR course, I realized that I am a trained monkey. I have now completed 7 weeks of BarBri and 3 days of PMBR.

I now pee on demand. I wait for the 10 minute break at the end of the hour (BarBri), or the 15-minute mid-morning and mid-afternoon break (PMBR).

I write things down when they tell me to.

I try and remember inane pneumonic devices, like Bach Pies or ABC Fitts or COPE or SEX.

Yesterday afternoon, the PMBR lady told me I had had a long, hard day. That I deserved a break. That I didn't have to study anymore yesterday. I believed it. PMBR lady knows best.

So I went out. She told me to.

I am also afraid to move my head too fast, because I think the little information I have currently stored in there will fall out.

Serendipity, Redux

2005-07-10T22:41:00.000-04:00

You are walking down the street, again, for a split time, and a split second, and then again, you look up, and across the street, and then, you see, for the second time in two days, that person again.

This time, it is slightly less shocking, slightly less unexpected, and yet still, your heart beats a little faster. The person smiles and waves, and you think you smile and wave and shrug your shoulders a little bit, as if to say, "What are the chances of this?" But really, you're not too sure what you did, because it all seems so surreal, and you are in a rush, to your meeting, and so you just put one foot in front of the other.

Serendipity

2005-07-09T23:38:00.000-04:00

It's a weird thing, when you see someone in a time and at a place where you never expected to see them. You do a double-take, and then again, and then think, "NO!" That can't be that person, sitting right there, in front of you.

But it is. And you are.

And then, because you don't know what else to do, and because that person is pretending that no, it is not you, that you are not in front of them, you shake your head, in disbelief over the karmic powers of the world, and head outside.

Blogging and the Non-Blog World, and Honesty

2005-07-07T15:38:00.000-04:00

Over the past few days, I've been thinking a lot about spiritual honesty, and about what it means to be honest in my relationships. I try and act toward others the way I would want others to act toward me, and I am sometimes successful, and sometimes not.

But I find myself struggling with this idea of what it actually means to be honest, because it seems to be a much slippery concept than just truth-telling. It seems as if truth-telling is just a small part of honesty. I struggle with how much to tell people, and when, about my life, about who I am, about the decisions I am making about how to live my life.

To some extent, I struggle with that in this blog, so there might be a little bit of a plea for help here. People read what I've written, and sometimes, I get nice emails or comments or people say something to me in person about what I've written. I love that! But more often than not, I have no idea who exactly is reading. That means that there is often the possibility that people who read this blog know more about me, about what I think and who I am, then I have disclosed to them in our non-blog interactions. Sometimes, that's okay. But other times, that's a weird spot to be in, for both of us, I think.

I like writing here, and I plan to continue to do so. I also like when people write comments or emails, so if you are inclined to do so, please know that it will make me smile. And if you're reading, and we interact in the non-blog world, maybe you could let me know somehow that you're reading. We could even talk about it. I think it might make us closer, more connected, more honest. Which is how I'd like us to be.

Different Ways to Think About Studying for the Bar

2005-07-06T23:34:00.000-04:00

(real advice given by real, live attorneys)

* Consider your studying a guided meditation. (I had a hard time really understanding this one.)

* Consider it boot camp: study for 3 hours without getting up, take an hour break, then study for 3 more hours. This will help train your body and give you the stamina you need on test days.

* Consider it the last test of your life.

* Make a chart and plot out how you will spend the next 20 days, hour by hour. Stick to it.

* Consider how hard you have worked in law school over the last three (or four) years. Remember that you have earned the privilege to sit for the bar. Remember that it *is* a privilege. Make yourself proud. (I think this last one is my current favorite.)

Yanks Are In It

2005-07-06T09:40:00.000-04:00

All you Yankees-haters out there can't keep us down. From today's New York Times:

After playing so poorly for much of the first three months, the Yankees are squarely in the pennant race.

Watch out, Sox. We're coming for you.

Proof that Misery Loves Company

2005-07-06T08:41:00.000-04:00

I enjoyed reading Sua Sponte's post on her simulated MBE score. Call it schadenfreude, call it commiseration, call it empathy. The bottom line is, it made me feel better to read this:

Even after two glasses of wine ... my miserable result still smarts. I don't want to do well on the bar exam; I just want to pass. And right now I am nowhere near passing.

Oh, I feel your pain.

Random Quotes You Can Buy in a Packet at CVS

2005-07-05T22:18:00.000-04:00

I have no idea what this quote means, but for some reason, it made me laugh. I mean, I guess I do sort of know what it means, but, well, it's not particularly profound or thought-provoking, and, I think it's funny.

Clearly, I have a low threshold for funny these days.

Life is short and the world is wide.
-Simon Raven

I mean, what the hell is that about? I think I am going to start manufacturing my own profound quotes. Like:

Sleep with the cows and wake up in the hay.

or

Run with the horses and step in manure.

or

Fetch eggs from the hen house and end up with the chickens.

Ok. Whatever. They may or may not be funny. Cut me some slack. The bar, remember?

The Secret Life of Studying for the Bar

2005-07-05T18:05:00.000-04:00

I have cleaned my bathroom. Talked to Jessica. Mopped my kitchen floor. Paid my bills. Rearranged my office. Dusted. Drank Fresca. Went shopping at the co-op. Ate a sandwich. Talked to Stephanie. Received thoughtful, supportive emails from Amy. Made lunch plans with Tiffany. Promised Jim I would have my long-overdue book chapter edited tonight. Left a message for Jen.

I have cried. Poured my heart out to Brandy, my college roommate. Talked to Sanette, who called worried about the despondent sound of my email. I read the Advocate, and watched Ellen.

The one thing I have not done is I have not studied, though I have piled my BarBri books nicely in one corner.

And here's the rub of it. I'm the only one who can do this, who can pull myself out of this and learn, or try to learn, whatever I need to to pass this exam. I have lots of people who love me, who are pulling for me, but they can't study for me. They can't tie me to a chair, much as they might like to, or force-feed me the Conviser Mini-Review. They can't do a damn thing except watch from the sidelines and shout encouragement.

It feels a little like skiing, when you're standing at the top of a mountain, just before you make the first turn down. Nobody else there with you, just you alone who's got to push off, take the first leap of faith down the side of the mountain.

Old Commencement Speech By Anne Lamott...

2005-07-05T10:58:00.000-04:00

that makes me remember that the bar isn't the whole world, even when it feels like it is...

Here's a snippet:

We can see spirit made visible in people being kind to each other, especially when it's a really busy person, taking care of a needy annoying person. Or even if it's terribly important you, stopping to take care of pitiful, pathetic you. In fact, that's often when we see spirit most brightly.

It's magic to see spirit largely because it's so rare. Mostly you see the masks and the holograms that the culture presents as real. You see how you're doing in the world's eyes, or your family's, or -- worst of all -- yours, or in the eyes of people who are doing better than you -- much better than you -- or worse. But you are not your bank account, or your ambitiousness. You're not the cold clay lump with a big belly you leave behind when you die. You're not your collection of walking personality disorders. You are spirit, you are love, and, while it is increasingly hard to believe during this presidency, you are free. You're here to love, and be loved, freely. If you find out next week that you are terminally ill -- and we're all terminally ill on this bus -- all that will matter is memories of beauty, that people loved you, and you loved them, and that you tried to help the poor and innocent.

You can read the whole speech here.

Of course, this doesn't negate the whole studying-for-the-bar thing, because for me, it's all somehow connected to that, to taking care of myself and others, and the world, even though some days I just want to move somewhere and open a tiny ice cream shop bookstore and it feels like I've ended up in a vastly different place from the one I imagined three years ago when I started. But somehow, today, it makes me feel a little better about the whole thing.

Last Call: Fireworks, Massages and BarBri

2005-07-04T23:30:00.000-04:00

So, it's last call: the final hours until All Bar, All the Time. I spent my last wee hours of freedom in Narberth, which, I learned tonight, has its own song. (It starts out "Narberth is a big little town," and goes from there.) It's a sweet little town, though I can't comment on its "big littleness" and today, they had a festival during the day, before the fireworks.

I'm a sucker for fireworks, especially small-town ones. Everyone sitting together, all crowded on a big field, little kids covering their ears, ice cream dripping down their shirts. I love looking up at the sky with everyone else; it feels so ... human. And Kevin Murphy did a nice job DJing the display, including ABBA, Kool & the Gang and The Foundations ("Build Me Up, Buttercup) in his musical selections. I don't think I ever heard ABBA on July 4, and I have to say, it was a pleasant surprise. I also noticed a few other BarBri-ites walking around, which gave me a certain peace. Of course, unlike me, they may have been studying all last month, but still.

Lastly, I highly recommend to those of you sitting for the July bar to get yourself a friend, preferably a close one, who is attending massage therapy school. My friend massagelady is doing just such a thing (hence, the nickname), and has to practice her newly honed massage skills. Nothing like a 30-minute back/neck/head massage to work out the stress of studying/not studying/worrying about studying for the bar.

The Dark Underbelly: July and the Bar Exam

2005-07-04T16:53:00.000-04:00

July's here, the long weekend almost gone, and well, it's about to get ugly. I slept in today, the first time in awhile that I've had a good night's sleep. I am grateful for that.

But when I awoke, it was July 4. 22 days away from the beginning of the bar exam. Whew. You know, I knew it would come. I knew there would come a day when it stopped being fun, when it stopped feeling like Camp BarBri, when it stopped feeling funny and entertaining like the big Kumbaya-fest of June. When I stopped celebrating my law school graduation and started realizing that to practice law, I actually need to pass the bar.

Nobody really tells you this outright, but many allude to it: July's when the rubber meets the road. Many people blow off studying in June, but nobody blows off studying in July. At least nobody who passes.

I no longer feel able to write funny little witticisms about BarBri; I just feel a little dark, and a lot scared. Sort of like first-year exams, multiplied by 10. My exam-studying process has always been a little... um, nontraditional, and I suppose that the bar will be no different. Since I do my best thinking in the shower, I thought maybe I would just move in there for the month. Here goes.

The Way Home

2005-07-03T22:21:00.000-04:00

I usually take the long way home through the city on Sunday nights. I have a standing meeting there every week, on the western edge of Center City. It's in a church pre-school nursery, with pin-ups of different colors and shapes on bulletin boards and a wall of children's cubby holes filled with diapers and extra clothes and art smocks.

After the meeting, I could hop on the expressway; it would be quicker. But I take Lincoln Drive. It's a curvy, windy road that hugs the river and makes drivers swear at themselves. But on nights like tonight, Lincoln Drive is the right way home. My windows down, moonroof open, music turned up loud enough to drown out my singing, the river on my left, I'm surrounded by green: big old, crazy trees that stretch way up to the sky and blend one right into the other.

At Night

2005-07-02T01:35:00.000-04:00

Does it rain where you are? Come down in light patter that sounds like Rice Krispies snap-crackle-popping against your window waking you up? Do you think it's the air conditioner breaking, like I did, making some strange foreign noise just after you have drifted off to sleep? Does the lightening strike where you are, lighting up your window like day, making you smile, sleepy, when you realize, oh right, yes, it's just a random storm in the middle of the night?

Supreme Court: What You Can Do RIGHT NOW

2005-07-01T16:26:00.000-04:00

From Daily Kos:

by DavidNYC

Fri Jul 1st, 2005 at 13:00:27 PDT
Whatever happens with the Supreme Court nomination battle that is about to ensue, it's going to happen fast. Here are some things you can do right now:

If you have a cell phone, sign up for People at the American Way's Mass Immediate Response site. This way, you'll be able to receive text message action items instantly as events break. (If you signed up during the nuclear option fight, you'll need to re-sign up.)

Also sign up with the Save the Court, another PFAW website devoted specifically to this issue.

Recruit friends and family members to the cause.

Write to the President, telling him he should choose a consensus candidate to replace O'Connor.

Contact your Senators to tell them the same thing.

Update [2005-7-1 14:57:41 by DavidNYC]: Some more stuff you can do:

Sign MoveOn's "Protect Our Rights" petition.

Contact members of the media and tell them you think Bush should nominate a consensus candidate. PLEASE be polite, be brief (200 words or less), and don't do copy-and-paste jobs - put things in your own words.

Things That Make Me Smile

2005-06-30T23:10:00.000-04:00

Summer nights when it stays light until really late and then the sky turns a purplish blue before it finally gets dark and the stars come out

Fireflies

Friendly neighbors who wish me good morning when I walk out my door

Talking to my 7-year-old niece on the phone

The Sunday New York Times

Melissa Ferrick in concert

Books by Anne Lamott

Making s'mores

Singing at the top of my lungs

Friends who talk for hours about nothing in particular

Vanilla bean ice cream

Walking through Center City during the summer

Being adopted by the cat next door

The way the woods feel almost cold and really green during the summer

Kayaking in the Pine Barrens

Coming home from a run all sweaty and exhausted

When the Yankees win

Graduating from law school

UPDATE:
When old friends get back in touch
When BarBri lecturers are funny, down-to-earth, engaging and calming
When communication works and I end up feeling closer and more connected to people ... even when the conversations are hard

Things That Suck

2005-06-30T22:51:00.000-04:00

Long exams

Mean people in customer service jobs

Murder

Purposeful ignorance

Break-ups

Sore throats

Hungry people

Disconnection

War

Fear-based reactions

Isms

Favorite MBE Question of the Day

2005-06-30T22:48:00.000-04:00

"The deed described the property to be conveyed as follows:

I. From the SW corner of Section 25 of Township 2 North, Range 6 West, Cimmaron Base and Meridian, proceed South 45 degrees East 200 feet to teh Scrub Basin Irrigation Canal;

II. From that point, proceed South 45 degrees West 100 feet along the Scrub Basic Irrigation Canal to its intersection with State Highway 11;

III. From that point, proceed North 45 degrees West 200 feet along State Highway 11;

IV. From that point, proceed South 45 degrees East 100 feet to the starting point.

Which of the following corrections should be made for the deed to properly describe Scrubacre?

a) Direction I should be changed to "South 45 degrees East 100 feet."

b) Direction III should be changed to "North 45 degrees West 100 feet.

c) Direction III should be changed to "North 45 degrees East 200 feet."

d) Direction IV should be changed to "North 45 degrees East 100 feet."

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH THE LAW?!?!

MBE Lobotomy

2005-06-30T18:03:00.000-04:00

I am fried like an egg. Toasted like bread. Boiled like... well, you get the picture. Today was the MBE simulated practice exam at Camp BarBri. I found out a couple of things.

1) I found out that I might be one of those people who throws up before big stressful exams. Now, I've never been one of those people, but this morning, my stomach apparently thought I was one of those people.

2) I found out that 6 hours is a very loooonnnngggg time to sit in my seat and stay focused with my flea-like-attention-span.

3) I found out that my flea-like-attention-span is even worse when I have not had much sleep.

I just graded the 200 questions I did today, and well, let's just say it wasn't pretty. [Insert primal scream.] Let's just say there was lots of carnage. More than might have been expected. Let's just say that I doublechecked the answers to see if I was using the right answer key. Twice. Let's just say that if today was any indication -- and I guess it's time that I take serioiusly that my practice exams are a decent indicator of my likelihood of passing -- I'm in a decently perilous situation. I mean, it's salvageable, but not on the current path. Let's just say I'm well below the passing mark. Let's just say that in the past four weeks, it has been a simple triumph to attend BarBri classes, let alone do any of the work associated with them.

Let's just say I have not been as familiar with the "yellow magic marker moments" as one might have hoped at this point.
Oy.

Drive

2005-06-30T02:07:00.000-04:00

I took a taxicab home from the city last night. It's hit or miss with cabbies that time of night: they might be chatty, or pissy, or just want to drive really fast on the expressway and not say a word at all.

But this cabbie -- his name is Matthew -- was cool. He's an improvisational jazz guitarist, and he plays classical too. But his favorite is Dixieland. He was having a good night: he had just spent the night with an old friend, driving him from Trenton to Conshohocken and catching up along the way. The other reason he said his night was going well was because he just heard from a woman he liked, and she had just broken up with her boyfriend of 3 years. That, he told me, was good news.

We talked for awhile, in that way that you can only do when it's late and it's just you and your cab driver, with the night peaceful and quiet. Matthew told me the best places to hear jazz in the city are Zanzibar Blue, Chris' Jazz Cafe, and a place on 3rd and Poplar whose name he couldn't remember. Bartlieb's or Ortlieb's or something like that.

BarBri-ism

2005-06-29T14:13:00.000-04:00

Today, the nice man from Seton Hall Law School told us to "give a big squeeze to personal jurisdiction." I'm just not quite sure what to make of that.

What It's Like Here

2005-06-29T00:19:00.000-04:00

The fireflies are out tonight in my front yard. They're flying around, lighting up their bodies like tiny glowsticks at a dance party. It's a hot humid sticky night, the kind of night that's pregnant, just waiting to deliver up a roaring thunderstorm. The kind where the rain comes down in sheets, drenching you the minute you step into it. The kind that smells like summer. The kind where you just stand, with your arms out and your face turned up to the sky.

BarBri: The Movie

2005-06-28T12:03:00.000-04:00

Typically, they give us live lecturers each morning to tell us jokes and point out the "yellow magic marker moments." Today, we got our first video, a lovely fellow from Duquesne who apparently specializes in Pennsylvania constitutional law. Seems like a bit of a niche market, but, well, okay.

Anyway, the video was sort of Blairwitch Project-esque, as if someone was videotaping while running in place, or through the woods.

"State constitutional law (bobble, bobble, bobble) can be broader (bobble) than the corresponding (jiggle, jiggle) federal ..." And then, his head would disappear from the screen for awhile. Or it might appear at a tilt.

The sound correspondingly worked and didn't work. Sometimes, it was like listening to someone talk underwater. Think Finding Nemo meets Paper Chase. And just when my mind was wandering, it would come back, booming and clear, to startle me into re-focusing.

Now, this was all amusing and entertaining, though I think I'd be pretty bitter if all I got were a bunch of videos like this. I mean, at $2,500/head, you'd think that BarBri might invest in some quality videography. Or at least a tripod.

BTK Confesses

2005-06-28T00:20:00.000-04:00

The serial murderer BTK confessed to 10 murders yesterday. He gave the judge and prosecutor and family members the gory details of why he did what he did, and how he did it. (I'd link to the story, but something weird has happened with Blogger, and all of my options to link stories have disappeared. If anyone knows how to get them back, please email me.) I hope that his confessions bring the family members of the victims some peace, if not today, then some day in the future. I hope that they find some solace in knowing the truth about their loved ones, though my heart thinks it's unlikely.

My 12-year-old cousin Katie disappeared from a friend's house 23 years ago. They never found her body, but Glenn Barker was convicted of her murder in 1983. I remember parts of the trial, though not much. I think it would have helped my family if Mr. Barker had confessed to Katie's murder, and told us where he took her body. We just wanted to bring her home, and bury her, and say goodbye. I have to wonder whether it's worse to actually know what happened to your loved ones in their last moments, or to have to imagine it. Is there some finality, some peace, that might come with knowing with some certainty the horrific last moments of your loved one's life?

Quote of the Day

2005-06-27T16:08:00.000-04:00

[From Anne Lamott's "Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith," which I would link to if my Blogger had not gone all wacky]

"How are we going to get through this craziness?" I asked. There was silence for a moment.
"Left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe," he said.

[And a special nod to Sherry Fowler at Stay of Execution, for highlighting the book on her blog earlier today]

Public Service Announcement

2005-06-27T14:40:00.000-04:00

I tried to change things up a bit today. I wanted a second cup of coffee during BarBri, and the 10-minute break makes it tough to get to WaWa and back in time. So I went to 7-11. Branching out, trying new things, you know, it's a brave new world.

And I found out that there is a reason that people don't really go to 7-11 during the break. There's a reason they don't buy their coffee there. And the reason is that their coffee is really, really bad.

BarBri Dementia

2005-06-27T13:53:00.000-04:00

I think I have some sort of bar exam senility. I mean, I know I'm pretty young for that, but I think the past 3 years may have fried my brain. Last night, I lost my car. Now, granted, that's nothing new for me. But then this morning, I left my wallet at home. And pens to write with. And the bag of quarters to feed the meter. And I looked down midway through the morning to find that I had forgotten to zip up my shorts. It's amazing I got out of the house dressed at all.

I wonder if my brain is full, and is rejecting any new information. You know, sort of like when you have a stomach virus and can't keep any food down? Maybe my brain can't fit anything more in it. Maybe it's got a giant "No Vacancy" sign flashing inside it. How oh how am I going to keep it all in?

Ode to myPod

2005-06-27T13:44:00.000-04:00

It was love at first sight, my iPod and me. It's small and cute, it's my favorite color (green), and it holds all of my music. But I just realized the best part of my iPod this morning. When I turn up the music really loud, I can sing at the top of my lungs and not hear a single note I'm singing off-key. And there are many. Of course, this probably also makes me the crazy lady running around the neighborhood singing at the top of her lungs.

Shoulds / Shouldn'ts

2005-06-27T07:07:00.000-04:00

About 11 years ago, I had back surgery. It was really traumatic, and in the weeks before the surgery, I remember thinking that I would never take walking for granted again. Or sitting or sleeping or moving. It was the kind of pain that made me see stars. I remember being very sad and miserable.

After the surgery, I was told I shouldn't run anymore. I was active and athletic then, and in good shape. I had been on the track team all through high school, and continued to run some in college. It was the best, and really only, way I knew how to be fit. The way I felt about running was similar to the way I often feel about writing: I didn't necessarily like to run, but I liked to have run.

For the past decade, I have not run. The little voice stayed in my head. "You can't run. You have a bad back." And I've gotten increasingly unfit.

I realized this morning that it didn't really matter anymore what the doctors or my parents said. My back had begun to hurt again in the last few months, and I think it's probably because I was/am out of shape and sedentary, and about 30 pounds heavier than is good for my medium-sized frame to handle. Not running has gotten me here.

So I'm trying something new. I'm running again, not pushing myself, but running enough to see how my body feels and what hurts and what doesn't. Day 3 of running seems to be going well enough, and my body feels better than it has in at least six months. For now, I'm chalking "not running" up to a long line of "shouldn'ts" that I let myself follow unwittingly for far too long. It's right up there with "You shouldn't shave your head," or "You shouldn't date girls" or "You shouldn't quit your lucrative-but-unsatisfying job to go to law school." Next time someone tells me I shouldn't do something, I hope I remember all this.

Carma

2005-06-27T00:03:00.000-04:00

I lost my car tonight, sort of. I had some vague recollection of where I parked, but couldn't quite remember where I had left it. This thing happens to me more than one might think prudent, but it always kind of amuses me. (Except, of course, when it doesn't.) I mean, I know I left the car somewhere, so why get all worked up about it? It'll be there. I am grateful for the thingamajig on my key chain that makes my faithful Honda beep when I'm within firing range. That's a bonus, and shortens my aimless wandering in giant shopping mall parking lots by at least a couple of miles. Anyway, the car showed up, about 5 blocks into my search, sitting there, patiently awaiting my return. He looked happy to see me.

Gotta Run

2005-06-25T19:01:00.000-04:00

Someone told me today that weight gain is a good indicator that something is/was wrong with your relationship. I gained 30 pounds last year. That's a lot of wrong, no?

So I decided that this summer was the right time to start running. Well, really, I decided that today was the right time to start running. It wasn't a long run. In my track team days, it would have been a warm-up run -- you know, before the real run. But still, it felt pretty good. Except for the mild asthma attack at the end. (Note to self: Take inhaler before running. Makes that whole breathing thing easier.) There's nothing like running down the street, or in the woods, or somewhere and watching the world whoosh by. (Okay, today, it was a pretty slow whoosh, but still.) And the high... there's nothing like it.

My Mom Retired Today

2005-06-23T23:09:00.000-04:00

For the past 15 years, my mom has taught pre-K and Headstart students at The Livingston School, a public elementary school in central New Jersey. We figured it out tonight, and she's taught about 800 students over the years. It's a pretty amazing thing, being a child's first teacher. She's the one who teaches them the ways of the world: their colors and shapes, their numbers, and all about how to play nice with the other kids. She teaches them about different cultures, and holidays, and helps them make really cool pet rocks.

My mom and I are very different, in almost every way possible, from politics to lifestyle to general approaches to living. And though we may often disagree, I can say with the utmost certainty that my mom is an amazing teacher. One of the best. I've seen it with my own eyes, and I've read the letters that her students and parents have written her over the years. Mothers of past students have begged her not to retire, so that their younger children might have "Mrs. B___" as their first teacher. But today was her last day, after a month of parties and send-offs by other teachers, the PTA and the Board of Education. I didn't want the day to pass without writing something commemorating such a special occasion. Hats off to you, mom. The Livingston School won't be the same without you next fall.

BarBri Recap: The Barren Cow, Mixed-up Chickens, Bad Yogurt, and the Guy Who Stole My Seat

2005-06-23T17:53:00.000-04:00

7 hours of Contracts is 6 hours and 55 minutes too much. Really, it challenged my attention span, which is flea-like to begin with. The picture in this post is of David Epstein, who was today's lecturer and is typically a professor at SMU. He has a good sense of humor, but well, I don't think I learned much. Something about a barren cow and mutual mistake, some chickens, and coffee beans that ended up having rat poo in them. Don't ask.

While I didn't learn much to help for the bar, I did learn some other important life lessons, though:

No. 1: I learned that WaWa coffee is a very important part of my life. There was a bad accident on Lincoln Drive this morning, and it took more than twice as long to get to BarBri this morning, about an hour. To make it on time to class, we would have had to forgo the java. The coffee's not even that good-- I mean, it's Wawa -- but well, the thought of no piping-hot-energy-in-a-cup just about made me want to cry. So we were late.

No. 2: Yogurt is not always your friend. I was so proud of myself, having some raspberry yogurt for breakfast -- nutritious and delicious, I thought, when I pulled it out an hour into the lecture. First, I averted near disaster when the lid almost slid off my little board-that-serves-as-a-desk and into my lap. And then, a little later I realized how very ill I felt. Vomitous. Vomoli. Nauseaous. Digestively compromised. You get the idea. Anyway, nothing like sitting 10 rows up in the most cheaply constructed stadium seats money can buy, and trying to figure out how to walk down them and out of the auditorium without a) tripping or b) losing my cookies, er, yogurt.

At the risk of offering up too much information, I'll let you know that I averted the horror of barfing in the public stalls with a brisk walk to CVS and a nice big dose of Pepto Bismol. Bad yogurt or lactose intolerant? You decide.

No. 3: Be suspicious of people who wear big numbers on the front of their shirts. I have been Row J, Seat 1 since the first week of BarBri. I like the aisle. I feel at home there, surrounded by my BarBri buddies who laugh at my jokes and offer me Twizzlers. It's like a second home. And I think most people are all settled in: Amber and Park behind me, Lisa on my left, Joan and Kristen in front of me, Christina and Bob and Ryan across the aisle. Everyone's got their seats. Except No. 45. He stole my seat today. Leaving me in Row H, Seat 3. I was not happy. I felt squished, uncomfortable, like a fish out of water.

The only solace that came from the whole matter is that my seatmates were properly outraged by the incident. Amber even kicked his seat a couple of times for me. If he comes back tomorrow, I'm putting a horse's head on his seat. It'll be war.

Being Gay in 2005

2005-06-23T01:21:00.000-04:00

Tonight, I was part of an anti-homophobia workshop for a summer program of 18-24 year-olds from around the world. Though I've done things like it before, tonight I was mostly observing. And I'm so glad I did, because it was so great to be able to see their different facial expressions: some were really into it, and excited, and others looked sort of surly, and others like they were really struggling and thinking about oppression and sexism and homophobia and it was really pretty great.

At the end of the night, we did the "privilege walk." Everyone lines up across the back of the room, and the facilitator reads statements, like "I never feel afraid to walk alone at night" or "I have never been yelled at for being in the wrong sex bathroom" or "My family accepts the partners I bring home into our family." The idea is for it to be a visual representation of the way oppression and disenfranchisement work in our society: some people end up way in the front, and others in the back, just like in real life.

It made me think about how being a lesbian has shaped, and continues to shape, my life. I am openly gay to everyone in my life, because it was the only thing that made sense for me. I spent a long time trying to be someone else, and it didn't go very well. I am politically aware and active, mostly because I am mad at the ways that I am continually discriminated against, and I hope that maybe one day, it won't be like that. I live in an area of the city that is gay-friendly. But it goes deeper than that. Sometimes, in these times in particular, it just feels so frustratingly sad to be gay.

To be sure, it's better to be gay now in the U.S. than at any other time in history. And my privilege in other ways sometimes shields me from homophobia. But I am also acutely aware of the ways that my second-class citizenship impacts not only my decisionmaking process, but also, my relationships. My brother recently brought a new girlfriend to a family gathering, and my parents fawned over her, as perhaps they should. They asked her questions, and were friendly, and generally made her feel welcome. I thought back over the last three years, and how they treated my now ex-girlfriend. And though they tried to make her feel welcome, they often failed. They didn't know how to talk about our relationship together. They didn't really ask about our relationship, except in the most cursory ways, until it was over. And now that it is over, they aren't quite sure how to act.

The result is that this impacts my relationship not only with them, but also with my brother and his new girlfriend, and with my (now ex-) girlfriend. I don't entirely, or even mostly, fault my parents for this dynamic. I expect that they will continue to learn and grow to the extent that I ask them to. But sometimes, I wish it weren't so fucking hard. And here's the thing: this experience is not unique. It's one of the hidden costs of institutional homophobia and heterosexism. It plays itself out between families and friends and co-workers and colleagues and acquaintances every day, again and again and again. And tonight, that's what makes it feel so sad.

Bar Prep v. Exam Prep

2005-06-22T16:22:00.000-04:00

Me preparing for the bar exam looks a lot like me preparing for final exams. Today's process, after this morning's inane BarBri lecture (see earlier post):

* Lunch with best friend

* Contemplate a nap

* Contemplate the dishes

* Contemplate the laundry

* Drink some Fresca

* Look in the fridge

* Play with new computer

* Decide to import all of my CDs (about 150-200) onto my iPod

* Begin importing

* Update blog

* Email almost every friend I can think of that I have not spoken with in the past 48 hours

* Update blog

* Contemplate study methodology for the bar

* Decide that I like colored index cards

* Search desk drawer for colored index cards

* Update blog

* Check email

* Check email

* Check email

* Decide to go buy colored index cards

Things They Tell You at BarBri that They Really Shouldn't

2005-06-22T15:22:00.000-04:00

1. "Bring 5 pencils." (It's better than the 3 pencils that the Bar Examiners recommend.)
2. "Bring pens."
3. "Bring pens with black ink."
4. "Bring ID."
5. "Make a photocopy of your license if you don't have a passport in case you get mugged and your driver's license gets stolen the night before the exam. They might not accept the copy as valid ID, and it is illegal to photocopy your license, but you should do this anyway just in case."
6. "Look at maps so you know how to get to the testing center."
7. "An common abbreviation for Negligent Infliction of Emotional Distress is NIED."

The Joy of the Fluffernutter

2005-06-22T13:00:00.000-04:00

I might have written about this before -- it seems vaguely familiar -- but I am astounded once again at the simple joy that comes from the Fluffernutter. Just like a little slice of heaven here on earth: 2 pieces of whole wheat bread, some Skippy (creamy, not chunky) peanut butter, and a bunch of Fluff, washed down with a big glass of milk (Lactaid skim for me).

The Best Answer I've Heard to "How did you end up in law school?"

2005-06-22T00:53:00.000-04:00

"I read 'What Colour is Your Parachute?' and did all of the exercises, the journal entries and everything, and I talked to some of my parents' friends who are lawyers, and it seemed like the right thing for me." It just seems like such a thoughtful way to approach finding a way to be in the world. If you don't have that "I know in my gut what I should be doing with my life," I think this is the next best thing.

Camp BarBri, and How Life Changes When You Least Expect It

2005-06-21T20:23:00.000-04:00

So, not done after all.

It's a cruel joke of the law school experience that they hand you a diploma just a couple of days before they send you off to Camp BarBri for daily 3-7-hour lectures and lots of legal Mad Libs. For the unitiated, BarBri is the monopolistic bar review course that most students take before the bar exam. They give you a half-dozen or so 2-inch thick books, and send professors to lecture to you in a fill-in-the-blank format. Sort of reminscent of the teacher in Ferris Bueller's Day Off who says "Whaaaat economics? Anyone? Anyone? VOO-DOO economics..." Or something like that.

I'm a little rusty from not blogging the last month. Forgive me.

Pre-BarBri, law school graduation was one of the happiest days of my life. I've wanted to go to law school since I was 10 years old and watched the trial of my cousin's murderer, and it was just so cool to put on my cap and gown and walk across the stage and shake the dean's hand and get this giant diploma and smile a lot. For so long, I've been talking about wanting to go to law school, it feels a little surreal that it's actually over.

But the weeks following graduation have not been what I expected. My partner (of 3.5 years) and I split up. Well, really, she broke up with me, but that makes it sound more one-sided than it feels to me. She moved out of our home last week. It was and continues to be amicable and caring and complicated and often, sad.

One of the things I have learned in the last month is that I have great friends. They have taken care of me and fed me and taken me to do fun things (see below) and not-so-fun things (like buy all of the household items that were suddenly not in my household anymore). I feel comforted by their care, and by my ability to take care of myself. To write and draw and go to therapy and go to the grocery store and do all of the things that make me sane. I didn't do a lot of those things for a lot of this past year, and really, it made me a much grumpier person. At least inside.

I've also met some really great people at BarBri. Cram 250 of us in a big lecture hall, and well, I feel like we should just sing Kumbaya and have s'mores. The social-ness of it has been a blessing for me. Of course, I should probably be a little less social, and a little more, er, with the studying. With the breakup and moveout, I have not been so much about the studying.

I spent the weekend painting my new home, and rearranging, and thinking about how I wanted my home to feel. I also saw Melissa Ferrick and Holly Near in concert. If either is coming to your town/city/state/continent, go see them. They were inspirational in the very best sense of the word. And the concert was outdoors, which makes it better. Pretty much everything is better outdoors, in my mind. (Yes, that too.)

The other big thing that happened is my hard drive died. (When it rains, it pours, eh?) I got most of my files off of it, thanks to a computer guru at Temple that I will forever be indebted to. (Thank you, Dan.) I bought an iMac, which is cool, but weird when all of my PC-minded shortcuts don't work.

So that's the update for now. I'll write more later, just wanted to finally get something up.

Done.

2005-05-12T08:21:00.000-04:00

Idea for the Day: Fighting the Radical Right

2005-05-11T14:06:00.000-04:00

1) Go to the website of the organization whose "family values" rhetoric you despise most. (I recommend the American Family Association, or Concerned Women for America.)

2) Check out their "action alerts."

For example, the AFA is currently calling on its constituents to call Kraft Foods and tell them to pull their financial support from the 2006 Gay Games.

3) Call whoever they're calling (in the above case, Kraft), and tell them to keep doing what they're doing. (In this case, supporting the Gay Games.)

Just a thought while I am in the manic throes of my last hours of paper writing for my last paper for my last course for my last semester for my last year of law school. Woo hoo!

Quick Post

2005-05-10T16:53:00.000-04:00

1. I actually ventured outside today, to give my pasty white skin some Vitamin D, and was shocked to find that spring had arrived. Very nice. Even more of a reason to write faster to finish this paper/albatross.

2. I decided that I will refer to what most people call "conservative Republicans" by their proper name: radical Republicans. They're not conservative by any stretch of the imagination.

Neil Diamond on Ellen

2005-05-10T09:15:00.000-04:00

I saw Neil Diamond on the Ellen Degeneres Show yesterday, and I'm wondering: Did he have plastic surgery? His face looked weirdly smooth.

I can't help it. I've loved him since the Jazz Singer. My latest gift to myself for finishing this %^%^!@# paper is his new CD. Weird, I know. It's like I'm 70 and belong in Boca....

Letter to John Kerry

2005-05-09T19:13:00.000-04:00

Senator Kerry:

I worked for your presidential campaign here in Philadelphia -- and helped deliver you the state of Pennsylvania. And I want you to know that today, you lost my vote.

Today, you spoke out against same-sex marriage being part of the Massachusetts Democratic Party platform. Senator Kerry, that's a mistake. It's a mistake because across the country, thousands -- maybe even millions -- of hard-working U.S. families are being denied the benefits and privileges of marriage. We work each day to provide for our families, only to have the state and federal government deny us benefits and rights that would belong to us if not for the fact that our spouse is of the same sex.

It's wrong, and in your heart, you know it's wrong. Why won't you speak out against this grave injustice? Senator Kerry, you are on the wrong side of history this time.

I will not miss final exams...

2005-05-06T20:35:00.000-04:00

but really, I prefer them to final papers!

Theoretically, I love to write. Or, perhaps, I love to say that I'm a writer. Or I love to have written. But the actual process of writing? Well, that pretty much goes something like this:

* Watch some random television show, staring blankly at the screen and trying to ignore the fact that my final paper of my final course of my final semester of my final year of law school is due in a scant few days.

* Eat everything in the house. This might include (in an illustrative, not exhaustive list): chocolate pudding, frosted mini-wheats, tomato soup, fresca, some weird non-dairy ice cream, more fresca, orange juice, apple, organic version of chef-boy-ar-dee spaghetti-o's, and an English muffin.

* Turn up my iPod and sing "Up Around the Bend" at the top of my lungs in an effort to find my "inner motivation."

* Stare blankly at the television.

*Read the newspaper.

* Check email.

* Check email.

* Check email.

* Update blog.

*Sigh.

You get the idea, don't you? This twisting in the wind is, well, really pretty torturous. There really must be a better way.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2005-05-02T09:11:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday, me! I'm finally the age of Jesus. (Don't ask, I can't really explain why this is in any way important, especially since I am, ummm, Jewish.)

I was born around 10 am at St. Barnabas Hospital in Livingston, N.J.
I will be celebrating the occasion this year with a 3-hour exam in Taxation at 6 pm tonight. Woo hoo!

It's my last exam in law school, ever. Not quite sure what to make of that.

The whole thing will be followed by festivities at McMenamin's. I'll be the one looking dazed and confused.

Gandhi, Fighting the Judicial Filibuster, and Good Music

2005-04-22T10:38:00.000-04:00

I went to see Catie Curtis and Julie Wolf play on Wednesday night. (It was a special gift from my sweetheart.) What a great concert! A lot of fun, and it was in a great space -- the new World Cafe Live performance venue. (Try the hummus platter, too.)

Anyway, Julie has a quote I want to remember when it feels like the Radical Right are taking over the U.S., plowing through our government and our schools and into our homes and lives. Here it is:

When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall -- think of it, always.
--Gandhi

Of course, the tyrants always fall because good people do something to help the process along. For example, today that might mean calling your Senator and telling them to vote "No" on the changes to do away with the judicial filibuster. The filibuster is our friend.

Hoeffel Endorses Casey

2005-04-20T12:34:00.000-04:00

I got an email a few minutes ago from Joe Hoeffel endorsing Bob Casey for U.S. Senate. It reads, in part:

This is the most important U.S. Senate race in the country ... because Rick Santorum isn't just another Republican vote in the U.S. Senate. Day after day, he's been leading the fight for President Bush's right wing agenda and ignoring the pressing problems of many poor and struggling middle class families here in Pennsylvania.

....

We've got to devote all of our energies to removing him from the U.S. Senate. That is why I have endorsed Bob Casey. Won't you join me?

I've known Bob Casey for more than a decade. I know him to be a person of great compassion and decency, and while he and I don't agree on every issue, I ask you to look at his record of standing up and making a difference for people in need.

....

Bob is an effective advocate for seniors, for children and for working families...

Of course, this isn't surprising, after Gov. Ed Rendell's lame move to endorse Casey last month, short-circuiting that little thing called the primary. (And with it, Democrats’ right to choose the candidate they want.)

Bob might be an effective advocate for seniors, children and working families that don’t need an abortion. Bob might be an effective advocate for those who don’t care about the precedential value of Roe v. Wade on women’s rights. Or those who are pro-death penalty. But for those of us who do, well, it just looks like we’ve been sold up the river (again).

Now, there are real differences between Santorum and Casey. Santorum pushes the Republican party further to the right. He is its well-scrubbed, young religious zealot of the future. He makes my skin crawl, and well, his whole comparison of homosexuality and bestiality really rubbed me the wrong way.

Casey, on the other hand, pushes the Democratic party further to the right. He is pro-death penalty. He supports the legality of abortion only when a woman’s life is endangered. (For those wondering, that means he does not support a woman’s right to an abortion in cases of rape or incest. Yea, family values!) He appears to support legislation that would make scientific research subject to passing a "moral test." (For more on his issues, check out this Daily Kos story.)

While the Dems might then pick up a seat in the Senate, at what cost? We in the United States continue to live in a country run by the aristocracy, by the rich, white, straight men who do little to effect change because it will only harm their own interests. Rendell’s power play to endorse Casey, and Hoeffel’s jump onto the bandwagon just reinforces that. All hail to the old boys’ club, ‘cause it ain’t going anywhere.

As Catharine MacKinnon wrote, “give women equal power in social life…Let what we say matter… Take your foot off our necks, then we will hear in what tongue women speak.”

Poopie Pope

2005-04-20T10:30:00.000-04:00

Well, the bell tolled and now we've got a guy who chose to name himself after some egg dish. Sigh.

I'm not sure what to say about this (where to begin?). Sadly, my candidacy never got the traction it needed. I think my vagina got in the way.

As for the new Pope, there are two possible glimmers of hope. The first is, of course, his age. Since the average life expectancy of white men in the U.S. is 77.6 (and our Western European counterparts are typically about the same), I figure that he's living on borrowed time. They'll be tapping him with the silver mallet in no time.

The second potential bit of hope is his follow-all-the-rules-or-get-out approach. Fair enough. If you can't follow ALL of the rules that His Popedom bestowed upon you, then you don't belong in the Catholic Church. Or so his thinking goes. I think that's a good idea. Progressive Catholics have been looking the other way on the travesties that Vatican City has bestowed upon them for too long. Maybe if he pushes this point, all of the pro-woman, pro-Choice, pro-homo, pro-euthanasia, pro-birth-control, pro-non-Christian, pro-sexual-abuse-survivor Catholics will leave the Catholic Church, or split off and form their own separate sect of Catholicism. And then maybe, just maybe, Vatican City will keep its paws out of politics and my life.

Related note: Does the Pope uniform have special Pope underwear? Boxers? Briefs? Thong? Special Pope bloomers?

The Bell Hasn't Tolled Yet

2005-04-19T00:16:00.000-04:00

Well, the first vote blew black smoke, so I've still got a chance. Unfortunately, I haven't made my way to Vatican City yet, so, well, it's just not looking too promising at the moment. Sad.

I think I would have been a good Pope, but I guess it's time to concede.

I'm also up to my ears in Crim Pro, Tax, Jurisprudence and First Amendment. Well, maybe not quite my ears. I'm at that point where I'm putting all of my notes into pretty little notebooks. Crim Pro is a lovely chartreuse. I thought it might be motivational. I don't know why, but I always like to segregate out my notes before finals. I think that if they're segregated, they'll have a better chance to coalesce with one another. You know, like the April 18 notes will get a chance to talk to March 28 notes. Say a big howdy ho. And it will all make more sense to me when I open it all up the next day.

My partner has announced that she is fleeing our home for my last finals-weekend-extravaganza, which nicely coincides with my birthday on May 2. (I'll be turning the age of Jesus, and would like to have a Dress As Your Favorite Biblical Character pary.) I don't blame her. I am one big special treat during exams. Like me, usually, except with a little gerbil-on-a-wheel, Roadrunner-esque, manic quality to add for special Examtime fun. Whee. Don't blame her one bit for heading north to the Cape. But she better bring me back something cool.

Andrea Dworkin Dead at 58

2005-04-11T19:02:00.000-04:00

Since it has not been reported in the U.S. press (yet, I hope), here's the Guardian's obituary.

Campaign Volunteers Needed

2005-04-05T00:14:00.000-04:00

I have a big announcement to make. And I need your help.

I'm running for Pope. I'm planning on sneaking into Vatican City, Yentl-style, with my boobs bound up and my hair shorn short, to throw my hat into the ring.

I want the papal ring. The big silver stick. The fancy outfits with the little beanie. Those nice gold pillows. The cool car with the bullet-proof glass. The trips around the world. The giant crucifix. A pulpit from which to speak every week. Millions who follow my every word and decree.

I want the power of the papal decree.

It's a grassroots campaign. I'm counting on a groundswell of support. I'll need to be a write-in candidate. But we can do it, together.

And if elected Pope, I promise to usher in a kinder, gentler papacy. Communion wafers in different flavors. Chocolate-dipped and strawberry-flavored. Wine of a respectable vintage. Pews with cushions. Limited kneeling. No more incense. Or charging for candles.

When I'm Pope, catechism will include lessons with condoms and bananas, and a guide on where to find safe, legal abortions. Homosexuality will be openly embraced, and the priests and nuns can finally march in the annual Gay Pride Parade. We'll do away with that whole celebacy charade, and let everyone get married. We'll ordain women as priests, bishops and cardinals, and clean house of the pedophiles. And sing Christmas carols all year long.

Happy Birthday Nancy McKeon!

2005-04-05T00:00:00.000-04:00

The Pope's dead, there's a new potential new strain of HIV, we're still at war, and I have less than a month of law school, but, well, this blog is really about the pressing news of the day. So, with just an hour left in the day, I'd like to say Happy Birthday to Nancy McKeon (of Facts of Life fame). She doesn't appear to have an offical website, and I think her television show, the Division, sucks, but well, Happy Birthday, anyway.

Military Spending v. Educational Spending

2005-03-31T12:47:00.000-05:00

As April 15 looms large, consider checking out the website of the National Priorities Project, to see how the government's spending your money. For example, you may be enraged/horrified/shocked to know that $.30 of every $1 goes to military/defense, and $.037 of every $1 goes to education.

This to me makes a lot of sense, in an evil Bush-whacked sort of way. Our broken public education school system is set up to raise our children to be illiterate and ill-informed non-thinkers required to wear uniforms to attend school (like they do in Philadelphia), say the Pledge of Allegiance, and sing the Star-Spangled Banner.

Then those same school children grow up and are faced with limited job opportunities because they have not been taught critical thinking skills, or much of anything at all. Even if they're prepared for it, they can't afford college because it's too expensive, even with financial aid. Wal-mart down the street's not paying a living wage, and all of the mom-and-pop stores that do have been driven out of business. And their school couldn't afford computers, let alone textbooks, so they never really learned too much about them, or how to read very well. So they sit back and realize that they have been taught nothing except how to wear a uniform, salute the American flag, and sing the national anthem.

Then the military recruiter who has been given their name, address and phone number by the school system -- a nifty new federal law -- calls, and perhaps they realize that they're part of the new underclass that is being trained from elementary school (even without ROTC) to join the military. So they join up, where their lack of critical thinking skills is actually an asset, because they can obey their commanding officers without thinking too critically about the rightness of those commands. Or that they're being told to walk into battle with unarmored vehicles.

In any case, perhaps they won't question it when the military sends them halfway across the world to kill or be killed in the fight to protect the administration's interest in oil.

This sounds about right to me. Sure explains why we spend 10 times as much on the military as we do on education.

A Rose by Any Other Name

2005-03-30T13:18:00.000-05:00

Because I clearly don't have enough to do, I'm trying to come up with a new pen name, for when I finish writing my first book. "Jodi _____" just doesn't have quite the "hot new novelist" ring to it that I might hope (though I am attached to it, as far as names go).

The best new name I've come up with is "J.B. Vanderslice." A little bit quirky, a little cool, and well, I like the whole initial thing. Other possibilities:

J.B. Huckleberry
or
j.b. huckleberry
j.b. manion

I also considered going with "Jodi Allyson," which encompasses the fake middle name I gave myself when I was young (after the camp counselor I had a crush on). But then, I thought that, well, there's already the incredible Dorothy Allison, and she's also a lesbian, and they'll probably think we're, like, sisters or something.

Whatever.

Title IX: Good News/Bad News

2005-03-30T12:12:00.000-05:00

The Supreme Court handed down a 5-4 decision yesterday holding that Title IX, the federal law prohibiting sex discrimination in schools and colleges, protected whistleblowers from retaliation. Plaintiff Roderick Jackson had coached the girls' basketball team in a Birmingham, Ala., until he spoke out about the inequities between the girls' and boys' programs. Then he was dismissed.

"Retaliation against a person because that person has complained of sex discrimination is another form of intentional sex discrimination," wrote Justice O'Connor in the majority opinion.

Well, umm, yeah... duh. Doesn't that seem obvious? But in the Bush-whacked world that we live in, and in the often surreal rulings of the Court regarding discrimination claims, I take nothing for granted. (Too often, the Court seems to ignore what I see as obvious discrimination in its race-blind or gender-blind law-making.)

In any case, this is good news for us all, since it's teachers and administrators who are often in the position to complain about sex discrimination in boys' and girls' programs, and this protects them from retaliation when they do speak out. Read the full New York Times article about it. Or the full opinion, Jackson v. Birmingham Bd. of Ed.

The bad news is, as always, the twisted, evil policies of the Bush administration. (And while you may think that the use of the word 'evil' is hyperbole, I assure you, it's not. The policies of this administration are being put in place to guarantee the endless future institutionalization of straight, white, American, male privilege. Be scared. Be very, very scared.)

The particular injustice I'm talking about is the new Department of Education (of Postcards from Buster infamy) policy modifying the criteria used to monitor school compliance with Title IX. With the new policy, schools can use the results of email surveys to undergraduate students to show that there is "insufficient interest to support an additional varsity team for the underrepresented sex" to show a "presumption of compliance."

That means that schools can now use surveys that, no doubt, thousands of students delete or ignore, to show that there is no interest in a particular women's program. Plus, how can women be interested in sports that they may have never had the opportunity to play in high school, like lacrosse or crew or soccer? This policy just reinforces the historic discrimination that girls continue to face in their elementary and high schools, like Coach Jackson in Alabama.

And, it shifts the burden to women students to prove that the school does not provide equitable athletic opportunities. This is a radical change from 20 years of policy guidance from the Department -- 20 years that have made Title IX effective.

Disgusted? I am. It's precisely because of Title IX's effectiveness that record numbers of girls are involved in athletics today, that we have vibrant professional women's tennis and golf tours, that we have a pro women's basketball league. They are the result of the equity in athletics that has begun to come about from Title IX.

And we still have miles to go is going to make it. According to the Feminist Majority, currently, young women make up 53 percent of the student body in Division One colleges and universities, but they receive only 41 percent of the athletic opportunities, 36 percent of the athletic budgets, and 32 percent of the recruitment budget.

Read the full letter from the Dept. of Education or a good article about it from the Feminist Daily News.

Good News for Non-Traditional Families in PA

2005-03-29T12:28:00.000-05:00

The Superior Court of Pennsylvania ruled yesterday that a lesbian cannot be denied the legal right to visit the daughter she helped raise with her former partner based on speculation that ongoing animosity between the two would damage the 11-year-old. This is great news for same-sex couples with children in Pennsylvania, which also permits second-parent adoption. Read the press release issued by Lambda Legal, who handled the case, or the full opinion.

Dumb Move at Air America Radio

2005-03-28T16:47:00.000-05:00

I don't often listen to Air America Radio, the newish progressive/lefty radio station. I prefer NPR's brainy/academic take on the world. But when I did, the only show I ever tuned into was Unfiltered, with morning hosts Lizz Winstead, Rachel Maddow and Chuck D. They often had interesting things to say and guests that you'd never find elsewhere. (Full disclosure: I know Rachel from my college days, though we have not spoken in more than a year.)

So I think it's a particularly sad commentary on the world today that Unfiltered is being canceled and replaced by... Jerry Springer. It's like a cruel joke.

Here's the (edited) email I sent to express my discontent:

To the corporate decisionmakers at Air America Radio:
It's a stupid move to cancel Unfiltered, and you should rethink it. Critical thinking skills are a scarcity in radio and television these days, and the hosts of Unfiltered have them. They have the ability to analyze and critique news and politics -- something that is increasingly rare.

Lizz Winstead's voice and commentary was a big loss for the airwaves when she left the show earlier this month. Rachel Maddow and Chuck D are voices of reason and sense in a world full of soundbites.

Lastly, at the risk of sounding essentialist, Unfiltered was, for once, a show with an openly lesbian host and -- shock! -- a man of color! -- instead of the typical buffet of straight white men. Replacing Unfiltered with Jerry Springer is a sad commentary about the future of media in the United States.

With the cancellation of Unfiltered, you've lost my ears.

If you're peeved, let the folks at Air America Radio know. Can't hurt.

Things I Will Miss When I Have a Full-time Job

2005-03-28T11:36:00.000-05:00

with regularish hours in an office that is not in my home:

Working in my pajamas
The randomness of the day set mostly by my imagination and the real or perceived parameters of the Law School Experience
Working on my couch
Listening to my parner type on her laptop as I type on mine in our shared office
Looking out the window at my grassy knoll/ugly driveway
Watching the 10 robins congregate at the grassy knoll for a mid-morning tea-and-worm party
Breaking to go food shopping in the middle of the day
A full refrigerator of Fresca

Grandma on Terri Schiavo

2005-03-28T10:17:00.000-05:00

Grandma: "Why oh why can't they give her some ice chips?"

Me: "Well, grandma, I think it would defeat the purpose of removing nutrition and hydration."

Grandma: "But I'm not talking about hydration. Just a few ice chips. To keep her mouth wet."

New Shoes for Work?

2005-03-28T09:50:00.000-05:00

When I was down in Boca with Grandma, we went to her favorite shoe store, and I saw these shoes. I thought, "Wow, they'll be great for my new job! They say hip, and fun, yet still conservative enough to be a mule. Perfect with a casual black pants suit."

Apparently, they do not say that at all. According to my friends and partner, they say, "Mental patient off her meds." Or, "Too much lead paint as a child."

They all agree that I can't pull off these shoes. And sadly, I think they're right. I'm more Ellen-DeGeneres-wannabe than umm, whoever might wear these shoes. So I continue to be in search of a style. I'm determined to find one before my first day of work in September. I am a woman on a mission. Watch out.

Happy Birthday massagelady!

2005-03-24T16:25:00.000-05:00

It's massagelady's birthday today, so I am officially dedicating this post to her. In her honor, given her spirit and commitment to her own and other people's physical and mental health and well-being, I recommend you check out Kripalu, which is a really terrific and relaxing place. (I've actually never been there, but plan to go ASAP.) I also recommend the Omega Institute for Holistic Studies, particularly their upcoming workshop with Pam Houston.

First Crush

2005-03-17T13:11:00.000-05:00

Do you remember your first crush? I was just thinking about mine. Her name was Darla Hughes. She was tall and thin, and had blonde hair. That makes her sound like some sort of blonde bombshell, but she wasn't. She dressed plainly, sort of in a Talbots/LL Bean/Lands End kind of way. I remember her hair as really straight and dry, sort of straw-like, as if it had been dyed one too many times. She was the music teacher at my elementary school when I was in fifth grade.

She played the tuba. She taught me how to play the flute. She had really smiley eyes, and was nice to me, even though I think I probably pretty much sucked. (The flute was really not my instrument.) But my heart got broken at the end of the year when the school board laid her off in a last-hired-first-fired frenzy.

My other first crush was the boy who lived across the street, Marc Falkin. I think he's a lawyer now. He was very cute and 1 year older than me, which was a big deal when you're 6. He had a little white electric convertible car and would take me for rides around the block. I was his eye candy. But one day he said something that made me mad, and I bit him. I'm not sure, but I think I bit him on the neck, vampire-style. Though we remained friends (he had my favorite toy, Lite-Brite), things were never the same after that.

Tax Code Gotcha Down?

2005-03-16T23:40:00.000-05:00

Then consider submitting a comment to the President's Advisory Panel on Federal Tax Reform.
(Thanks to HRC for their mass e-mail on this.)

The panel is particularly interested in hearing comments on the following topics:

1. Aspects of the tax code that are unfair. (Oh, where to begin? Maybe try and give poor people a break? Stop discriminating against people who can't or don't want to get married? Amend the definition of "spouse" to include same-sex couples?)
2. Goals that the panel should try and achieve. (Hmm. Something modest, like stop pandering to big business?)
3. Unnecessary burden you face because of the tax code's tortured logic. (Like how it doesn't let me deduct medical expenses unless they are more than 7.5% -- a nice, round number -- of my adjusted gross income, whatever that is?)
4. Specific examples of how the tax code distorts important personal/business decisions that you make. (Like, oh, encouraging me to find a nice boy to marry?)

While I have no faith or confidence in the president (sort of like the Harvard Faculty of Arts & Sciences and President Summers), this seems like a fun exercise. If I were a professor, I'd make it an assignment for my students. What better way to participate in our (ahem) democracy than telling our government what we think? I think that if people interacted with their elected officials more, they might pay more attention to who they elect. For me, at least, the federal government always seems sort of other-worldly. Out there in the distance doing something that I don't quite understand, in a way that seems to have little effect on my life.

Except that it does. All of those bumbling idiots on C-SPAN voting yea or nea in ways that mess up my life and hurt the people and communities I care about. I wish someone would call for a confidence vote in this country because I'm pretty certain that the government -- the whole lot of 'em, Democrats and Republicans -- would lose.

More importantly, I wish that the media would report on a daily basis what happens in Washington. Not the Daily Presidential Photo-Op, but what actually goes on in the House or the Senate or the Supreme Court. What do they do all day? Why don't we spend more time talking about what our government does with its time and precious resources?

While I don't believe that my comments will have any impact on the tax reform, I like writing to the peeps in DC and telling them how much I think they're screwing things up. It does have a little "if a tree falls in a forest" feel to it -- I don't really think anyone's listening -- but then I think about the 4 women from New Jersey who badgered and prodded and begged and pleaded until there was a 9/11 Commission. And I think, maybe, if enough of us do that, things might change.

Email your comments as a Word attachment to comments@taxreformpanel.gov. They're due by 5 pm on March 18, so get writing!

RIP, Charlie the Tuna

2005-03-16T23:16:00.000-05:00

Taken from the Greenpeace website regarding limiting the consumption of seafood due to elevated mercury levels:

Fish Consumption Advisories

These advisories are intended for women of childbearing age and small children.

Developing fetuses and small children are especially susceptible to health impairment from elevated mercury levels.

However, if other people wish to reduce their exposure to mercury, they should also generally adhere to these advisories and also work to reduce mercury pollution at the source.

Fish that are low in mercury and can be eaten in moderation:

Abalone (farmed), Anchovies, Butterfish, Calamari (squid), Catfish, Caviar (farmed), Clams, Crab (king), Crawfish/crayfish, Flounder, Haddock, Hake, Herring, Lobster (spiny/rock), Mackerel (Atlantic), Mussels (farmed), Oysters, Perch (ocean), Pollock, Salmon (wild), Sardines, Scallops, Shad, Shrimp, Sole, Sturgeon (farmed),Tilapia, Trout, Whitefish

Eat sparingly (less than six 6 oz servings a month):

Carp, Cod, Crab (dungeness), Crab (blue), Crab (snow), Mahi Mahi, Monkfish, Perch (freshwater), Skate, Snapper, Tuna (canned, chunk light)

Avoid (less than three 6 oz servings a month):

Bluefish, Croaker, Halibut, Lobster (American/Maine), Rockfish, Sea Bass, Sea Trout (Weakfish), Tuna (canned, white albacore), Tuna (fresh)

Do not eat:

Grouper, Mackerel (king), Marlin, Orange Roughy, Shark, Swordfish, Tilefish

Sources used for this recommendation:

Natural Resources Defense Council,
Mercury Policy Project, the Environmental Protection Agency and the Food and Drug Administration