Last Chance, Honey

I Was Only Having Fun

2012-01-30T00:31:00.001-05:00

It has been a TERRIFIC weekend, so I am inspired to brag about it on my blog. To start, everybody deserves to know I am still living at home in my parent's basement like some sad version of a televised sitcom. ("2 Broke Girls", racist depictions of Asians aside, has a familiar smell). But! This weekend I broke through the shackles and had a great time!

I am actually going to attribute a large portion of my JOY about this weekend to the sudden uptick in exercise. I realized this weekend that January was coming to an end, and I would have to run the Cherry Blossom 10-Miler in approximately 2 months. Groan. On Saturday I took advantage of the non-rain/snow and went for a 3- mile run (....jog/walk) in the sunny cold. Afterwards, I showered, ran some errands, and then met up w/ the girls in Georgetown for a Dean & Deluca chat that led to a warm apartment with pita chips and boxed wine (score!). I then cruised east to sketchily pick up my Jeff Mangum tickets from a BFF on the corner of 11th & U Street, in front of Solly's. We exchanged goods through the window of my car before I promptly sped away, lest I be discovered by the cops. I followed my shady behavior with a good deed, and picked up dinner for my sad stray dog boyfriend who is presently dying from pneumonia. (True story about the pneumonia. Not so true about the dying .... yet.) After gobbling down Ben's Chili Bowl, I ditched the sad stray dog BF to watch Jeff Mangum play strong at Lincoln Theater. Then I went home to my cousin's house, watched a re-run of Saturday Night Live and fell asleep in an armchair with a blanket around me by 12:30. SO. SOLID.

Sunday was a similar speed of happy good fun times. After much whining, I put on my running clothes and went for a 4.5 mile jog with cousin K. She had planned a route full of hills, and I grumbled the whole way. We then hit up the local Farmer's market, snagged some sweet produce and celebrated our industriousness with homemade egg omelette, kale, and potato hash. (We also broke K's sink drain, and flooded the kitchen floor. Whoops.) Then I cruised to the office to do some work (siiiigh), but couldn't get on the computer. So, I ditched, checked in on sad stray dog BF, came home (to my parent's house), made my lunch of tomorrow, made my dinner for tonight, and prepped my dinner for tomorrow in the slow cooker pot.

DOMESTIC WEEKEND DOMINATION!!

Currently Listening:
Billy Joel - "You May Be Right"
(I may be crazy / But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for / Don't try to change me / Take me as I am because you might enjoy some madness for awhile.)

The Dead Weather - "I Can't Hear You"
(Jack White, you make me wish it was the 90s again.)

Overdue Honesty Check

2011-12-31T11:00:00.000-05:00

Since passing two (2!) state bar exams this summer, I have basically forced myself to forget about Studying for the Bar Exam. But, over breakfast with an old friend, he complimented me on how "coolly" I handled the situation and I erupted into pained laughter.

The snapshot below is my score for a practice MBE that Barbri gives to all students nationwide halfway through the summer. After all its students nationwide take the test, Barbri scores and ranks everyone. Takeaway: Halfway through the summer, after a month and a week of studying, I scored in the bottom 5% of students taking the practice MBE nationwide. If the bar exam had been given on July 1st, I would've failed. Hands down.

So yeah. I was NOT "cool" when I was studying for the bar exam. I was a hot mess. It is absolutely astounding that I passed anything. Let alone two in a row. Victory!

Currently Listening: James Blake - "Wilhelm Scream"
(I don't know about my dreams anymore / All that I know is I'm falling, falling, falling)

Girls Like Superheroes.

2011-12-26T13:00:00.000-05:00

Rock it, Riley. I want a Superhero toy too.

But ... he smells like ranch dressing!

2011-12-04T23:40:00.001-05:00

Has anyone visited the National Christmas tree over by the White House lately? It's basically the saddest tower of lopsided pine I have ever seen. It is! I was so visibly (and verbally) appalled by the sight this afternoon that a member of the Park Police (or Secret Service) sauntered up and we had the following conversation:

PP (Park Police): Yeah, we been making fun of that thing all day.

ME: Is that REALLY it?

PP: Yeah, they said that's all they could get.

ME: For the President?!?! (note: incredulous. maybe fury).

PP: Well, the first one got knocked over or something in the wind storm, so this is the best they could send over regulation size or something. We're hoping it'll grow a few feet by Christmas.

When was there a wind storm that knocked over the first tree?? Why didn't FoxNews have that guy who thought the Rapture was coming report on it? Poor Obama. We all have to be Charlie Brown sometimes.

In other news, I spent this lovely Sunday afternoon at the ... National Holocaust Museum. Because nothing says "holiday spirit and festive" quite like a good chunk of time reading about Nazi War Propaganda. I found this single poster one of the more disturbing pieces of political propaganda; not just because the eyes follow you around the room, but because of it's striking familiarity. When's the last time I saw a famous campaign poster featuring the solo image of a candidate's face rising above one word that conceptualized his entire message? WHAT? I guess what it takes to win over voters doesn't seem to change much.

And finally. I must go to bed and bid the world, adieu, adieu, to you, and you, and you.

Currently Listening: Black Keys - "Tighten Up".

(When I was young and moving fast, nothing slowed me down / Nothing slowed me down / Now, I let the others pass.)

My Political Idols Meet

2011-12-02T00:01:00.001-05:00

What I would not give to be a fly on that Burmese wall at this moment. Literally.

Currently Listening: Amos Lee - Windows Are Rolled Down
(Is it what you dreamed it'd be? / Or are you locked up in this fantasy? / Oh, the miles that have torn us apart / My newfound faith coats my broken heart).

Iceland.

2011-11-30T00:47:00.001-05:00

Yes, I meant to do a day-by-day blog complete with pictures and funny stories about how Iceland is full of Vikings that could bench-press my entire body at any given moment, crazy feral sheep, and endless endless land. But life (like it always does) slipped through my twitchy witchy fingers and I have lost the time. I still like to think I will do it, but in case I don't: Here is my absolutely favorite picture from my sojourn to Iceland.

This picture is not the most beautiful sight. In fact, it's not actually anything. I snapped it during our last morning at Iceland, as we stopped to snoop around Perlan on our way to the airport. I don't know why I love this picture so much. It's just creepy and fake-looking and awesome.

Travel!

Currently Listening: Muddy Waters - "Can't Lose What You Ain't Never Had"

I Post Entirely Too Much About Fall.

2011-11-01T22:37:00.004-04:00

In browsing through my own blog, I discovered I post an unbelievable amount about How Much I Love Fall. Am I one-note blogger? Gross.

Let's change it up a bit and talk about how I leave for Iceland on Saturday. Among my goals? Probably to re-create this video.

How hilarious is this ad campaign? I especially like when those twin gals spit-shape their eyebrows. Who doesn't love some dried saliva on their face while filming? Also, this clip seems to imply that Iceland is an awkward-dancing, gorgeous-scenery, good-music lovers paradise of funny outfits and booze and sunshine. Basically, everything a hipster would want to spend their disposable income to visit. Well, you're welcome, Reykjavik, I'm happy to oblige your fledgling economy.

Something, however, tells me that maybe I ought to pack some SERIOUS rain boots. This is an actual quandary. For somewhat obvious reasons, packing knee-high galoshes is not ... space-savingly ideal. But, probably better than suffering from soaked-sock-syndrome, right? Especially considering the long, touristy days of constant walking and sight-seeing? But still. I honestly don't think I've ever had to pack rain boots. Usually I have enough sense to travel away from bad weather, not towards it.

Doesn't it look like a gorgeous vacation?

But still! Nevermind my usual tendencies!! The scenery is sure to be amazing, the blue lagoon will be luxurious, and if all else fails, I could literally take a hike with THIS guy as my guide. I'm serious, he invited me on a social networking site and garnered rave reviews:

He promised to make fish-pan for lunch!

Forget you Fall! I'm headed face first into Winter. And if that doesn't work out, well, I'll just get drunk. I'm pretty sure that's all the Vikings did anyway, except on a boat. So basically, Vikings were the original Andy Samberg.

Currently Listening: Sheryl Crow - I Shall Believe
(Please say honestly you won't / Give up on me / I shall believe.)
NOTE: Some part of me will always believe that an artist's first real-album is their best work.

Quietly.

2011-10-29T03:09:00.001-04:00

... but surely?

I have had a lot of developments in my "legal life" lately. Most recently (i.e. Thursday), I got word I passed the Massachusetts State bar exam. Hooray! Somehow, the relief about passing is stunted by the fear that maybe all my good-luck has been spent, and the Other Bar Result I'm still waiting on will be negatory. Before you accuse me of being overly pessimistic, isn't that basically the ending to every Greek Fates Tragedy you were forced to read in middle school? ("Oh, of COURSE the love-of-your-life can leave the underworld as long as you never look back at her. You love her so much you peeked over your shoulder? So precious! ETERNAL DAMNATION FOR HER SOUL THEN.") Right. Exactly. Why did we learn this AS CHILDREN?!

Anyway, a week ago, I interviewed with a small immigration law firm in D.C. that I now call my employer. So, in a few weeks time, I managed to become a licensed lawyer with a job. Things are looking up!

And thus, champagne.

Weirdly, I don't feel as celebratory as I do calm. But! A wonderful calm! The kind of welcome respite that comes from turning off all the static in a room and realizing silence is velvety and refreshing in its own right. All the worries in my head have flipped down to low-fi, and maybe that's the New Happiness - an absence of anxiety. Is that lame? An old-person perspective? "I'm so psyched when I don't need to use my dentures to chew food!!" Uhhh. Gross.

Either way, I don't care much. I will take my wonderful old-person calm happiness and rest on it's flat-lake surface in my banana boat and nap in the sunshine. You kids and your tremulous excitement and LMFAO songs can go joy-surfing on your own time.

Currently Listening: Josh Ritter - "The Curse"
(Under miles of stone the dry fig of his heart / Under scarab and bone / Starts back to its beating)
(Note: This song/line reminds me of Eleanor Rigby.)

Breaking in New Heels

2011-10-03T00:18:00.000-04:00

Continuing their theme over the past few years of "exposing the legal profession" and "validating unemployment among 20-somethings (it's Emerging Adulthood!) with credible articles that are easily forwarded to parents," the NYT ran this fun diddy about Clerkship Chaos. The most memorable statements about last year?
- 382,828 clerkship applications were filed electronically for federal positions.
- 874 federally appointed judges exist (each potentially hiring 1 - 3 clerks).

Even assuming the most positive extreme, that all 874 judges were hiring 3 clerks apiece (and ignoring additional paper and state judge applications), the likelihood of getting a clerkship is approximately 0.6%. WHAT. Ah-mazing. I guess I don't hate myself as much now for not landing that awesome gig playing Chief of Staff to a Robe.

Not much to report this weekend, except that Fall blew into town with a heavy frigid hand. Despite my love for the season, I was admittedly unprepared as I trooped to Crafty Bastards amid drizzling showers. I forgot that blazers don't actually protect against the rain, hoodies are actually more for show than any practical purpose, and the iphone is a frustrating device if you can't feel your fingers. I'm so glad I bought my tickets to Iceland this morning.

And finally, the best way to break in a new pair of heels is definitely stomping around to club music and pretending you're dancing ... while alone in your bedroom. I mean, that IS what you'll be using them for eventually, right? Might as well practice busting a move.

Currently Listening: Maroon 5 & Christina Aguilera - "Moves Like Jagger"
(I don't need to try and control you / Look into my eyes and I'll own you / With the moves like Jagger!)

First Fall Run of the Season

2011-09-26T01:06:00.001-04:00

After an entire Sunday spent eating brownies and potato chips while screaming over the Patriots/Red Sox doubleheader, I had to get myself out of the house. (Look! I watch sports! Right.) I laced up and went for my first run of the fall season with an 'easy' 3-miler through my old haunts, including my high school. Strangely, along my route, I encountered 9 deers and a turtle trying to cross the road (why?!). The deers made me think of Bambi (obviously), and the turtle made me think of Grapes of Wrath. The deers stared me down before flipping around and giving me the white underside of their tail in a dismissive "hmph".

Separately, let's talk about the "run" vs "jog" vernacular word choice. Does one sound wussier than the other? What's the qualifying difference? I tell people I am going on a run, but in reality, half the time I am, ah, on a barely-moving-faster-than-if-i-was-walking jog. Still, I doubt I will ever announce to people the plan is to go "jogging" until I am wearing a matching shiny sweatsuit set and wearing ankle weights. I'm just not.

Anyway, I keep saying it, but there's no harm in saying it again: I love running in the fall! I love the smell of wet leaves, the sound of my shoes on the ground, the deers (well..), and the way it's usually the perfect temperature. I love not wearing an ipod and I love the way my ponytail swings side to side in rhythm with my stride.

You get the picture. It's just the best.

In the meantime, I am still excited about my position with DC Superior Court. So much so, I have re-visited the 300 or so federal & state judges that didn't bother to give me an interview last year (that's not hyperbole, it really was ~300) and re-applied to about 70. So far? Same result: Zilch. Oh rejection, you're always better the 2nd time around! It's okay. I'm sure somebody's got big plans for me.

And just so nobody thinks I've turned into one of the Happy Uber-Positive Nice Girl Clones (seriously, who likes being around those people) I will admit to planning a vacation for November so that I can "conveniently" be out of the country when bar results come out. It looks like Iceland might be the winner, especially since IcelandAir is running some sick deals. Try and challenge me on this one, world. You can't! You are no match for my neurosis!

But whatever. At least I can work it all out on the pavement.

Currently Listening: Admiral Fallow - "Squealing Pigs"
(It's the sinking feeling of being alone / And the way it makes you screech ... I can't help but think as I pick my mouth off the floor / Will you still know me in a year?)

I Will Stay Addicted

2011-09-23T02:18:00.000-04:00

I've started my fellowship at the DC Superior Courthouse and it's actually really wonderful. So far, I have only good things to say about a courtroom experience, however, I lucked out with a sharp judge and an even better supervising clerk. One, specifically, who doesn't believe in "artificial barriers" about legal-status hierarchy. Yah! You mean I can practice law without having to like all the bullshitty status concerns? Who knew.

A major lesson so far? Pro se plaintiffs (people w/o lawyers) have a tough road to hoe. I knew it abstractedly, but, as I sink further and further into The Legal Field it just keeps becoming more evident.

Other than that, we'll see how this Job Search thing unfolds. Sigh. HIRE ME.

Currently Listening: Gin Wigmore - "These Roses" & "Don't Stop"
(this gal's raspy gravel voice & eye makeup is like 90s Garbage, but her peppy song choice is functional Amy Winehouse. pretty sweet combo).

Part Time Temporary Law Gig

2011-09-07T22:29:00.000-04:00

Since it's post-Labor Day, I have to click off "vacation mode". Boo! But, on the upside, my brain has been tired of idling. (Thanks USA, for those SVU and NCIS marathons to fill my days).

Tomorrow morning I'm starting my part time temporary law gig at the DC Superior Court. I'm excited, and it DOES seem like I should start a new legal blog about ... trying to be a big legal girl. We'll see.

Anyways, troopers. I'm back!

2011-07-30T22:00:00.000-04:00

My cousin wants me to start a legal blog called “The Gift of PersuAsian”, it’ll be about my endeavors to become a lawyer in the real world. Given the popularity of legal shows (hi, suits, ally mcbeal, boston legal, franklin & bash, and anything david e. kelley has ever created), it might be fun. Then again, there’s no dearth of legal blogs out there, written by people with snarkier chirps, and more access.

In the meantime, I took the fuckin’ bar exam. No, wait, I took two bar exams: NY & MA. I feel confidently bad about both of them, and can’t wait to receive the news that I failed in November. I already know how it will play out: The list of “passed” students will come out, listed by their assigned seat numbers. I won’t see mine. I will be immediately crushed. I will then suspect I mis-remembered my seat number, and in a faint glimmer of hope, look up my assigned number again. Nope, it’ll be as I remembered it. The reality will become definite: I failed. My big plan is to land a solid employer before the bar results come out in November, and swindle them into loving me so much they’ll keep me on. I know, it sounds like a Telemundo character’s scheme for snaring her husband through a fake pregnancy until she can get actually pregnant. Funnily enough, human deception is almost always the preferred course of action during human desperation.

Currently, I’m seated at JFK waiting to board my flight to South of France for my “bar trip”. Who created the idea of a bar trip? Certainly not graduated lawyers with $150k+ of debt and no job prospects on their hands.

Interruption: I love me some New York, but the mouthy girl in the Elvis Costello tshirt sitting next to me is not my preferred medium. She’s clearly with her mother, and they’re playing Words With Friends together. Adorable, I know. However, she keeps swearing at her mom “not to lose her shit”, and “to stop fuckin’ freaking out”, and it’s obvious this girl has no self esteem yet (probably because she’s overweight) and gets it all back by picking on her white-haired mother. If this was my PersuAsian daughter, I would probably pinch her ears. RIGHT MOM? Don’t worry, I will continue your cycle of scary parental-hate regime!

I'm clearly mental. ONWARD TO LONDON AND FRANCE.

This is Studying for the Bar Exam

2011-07-14T14:02:00.007-04:00

LESLEY: i'm having a really hard time figuring out if i want to eat a peach right now or now
KIKI: you typing now twice is freudian. EAT IT NOW.
LESLEY: you are SO RIGHT
LESLEY: PEACH'D
KIKI: LIKE LAWYERED BUT TASTIER
LESLEY: like....impeachment

2011-05-16T19:53:00.005-04:00

Fun facts:
- I graduated law school! It was a hilarious, hectic, anti-climatic affair that I did in a wonderfully childish fashion.
- I moved to MD. It was a hilarious, hectic, anti-climatic affair that I am handling in a wonderfully childish fashion.
- I am now studying for the NY Bar Exam (yah!), and the MA Bar Exam (boo). This is horrific, hectic, and probably climatic-intense affair that I am handling in a temperamental childish fashion.

Hooray! I'm a child!

Just kidding. I'm an adult. I'm just an adult who lives at home. Or something.

It's a good thing this article in the NYT posthumously validates my law school behavior, and all future stress-outs. Yes! I may adapt quickly to bad situations because I'm human, but all of my freaked out planning anxiety will make me a more successful human! YES.

To be fair, this article did spawn from NEW YORK CITY, the island where Neurosis and Anxiety are set up on blind dates by hyperactive matchmakers solely based on future preschool applications. It's also home to the $1,000 or $25,000 luxury gold-flecked dessert items. (Resulting in people who will literally poop gold.) WTF. Should Serendipity 3 be investigated for its contribution to the credit collapse of 2008? Watch our Sera, I think Lehman Brothers is calling and they found out that food you fed them is JUST A BIG PILE OF TURD NOW.

I told my mother about these desserts while we noshed on little post-dinner chocolate squares. She sputtered, called purchasers "idiots", and immediately demanded to know why they weren't required to give their money to poor people. (Gawd Ma, being a Liberal was sooooo circa Bill Clinton.)

My mother, by the way, still manages to spit out the word "idiot" in a manner that is hyper-scary and fear-inducing. The insult is a statement on a person's intelligence, my mother's most favorite judgment rubric. To this day, if I even SENSED my mother was going to drop the I-bomb, I would drop everything I was doing and fix it. Literally. Everything. I would drop my own child on its head.

Which brings me, somewhat finally, to the fact that I read Amy Chua's "Tiger Mom" book. (Who knows what the full title is anymore, I'm sure the eventual reprint will just say "Tiger Mom" and photoshop Amy's face onto a tiger running gracefully through China's countryscape and NY's cityscape.)

I loved the book. It felt hyper familiar. Especially when Sophia reminds Amy C. that the Chua-sisters are, by all industry standards, the high bar in Awesome Child. I almost snapped a picture and sent it to my little brother. The caption would've read: "Remember the time we said this verbatim, and Mom just laughed and told us we should not compare ourselves to people that were 'worse' than us, just 'better' than us so we keep improving?" Right. See supra paragraph about neurosis and anxiety.

In any event, the book is a fast, quick, and hilarious read into a Mom's trials with two rapidly-Americanized daughters. It is NOT the scathing, anti-white (although, sorta) book the WSJ & Ann Coulter wish it was. It's a First Book, which means some of Chua's voice is a little less funny than she probably intends, and a little more offensive than she probably intends. However, it is a powerfully written memoir about what it takes (and means) to raise 3rd generation "immigrant" children in the US. It's a book that almost every recent immigrant family (of, ah, relatively comfortable economic means) could potentially relate to, and one day, when I get some time on my hands, I'll finally write a book about MY family with the title: "RAISING AN IDIOT."

Dizzy and Done.

2011-04-26T18:01:00.005-04:00

Well there's still a mostly-done 40page paper standing between me and graduation, but I'm effectively Done With Law School Forever. I feel a little bad about my last post, because I underestimated how great moment would feel. I do feel pretty good right now. A little daunted. Kinda scared. But, good. I'm not, you know, quivering and crying or anything, but I still feel pretty ... you know. Happy.

Who knows what's next?

Leaps of Faith.

2011-04-24T22:00:00.001-04:00

I'm about to be done law school forever. Sadly, I'm having a hard time being excited or sad about it. Graduating from law school just doesn't have the same automatic "end of an era" nostalgia that high school and college graduation encompassed. Instead, this just feels like another thing I'm doing, done, and trying to use to my advantage.

Additionally, I'm distracted by all the usual OHMIGODI'MSOSTRESSEDOUT. Trying to study for finals, decide where to take the bar (NY & MA, woot), prepare to move, and get comfortable with the notion of an Uncertain Future. Oh, and very real debt. Hooray! It's hard to find time in-between to make homemade videos with friends set to Vitamin C's "Graduation Song". How can I be sad about what's ending when I don't know what's coming next?

So, in the face of the Unknown, you've got to shoulder stack all the things You Do Know. Unfortunately, that never seems to be very much. Since there's no controlling the world, I only really know things about myself. And pft! How much do I even know of that! Does it count that I know I like thin crust pizza and sweatpants (and that my addiction for one probably inspires my affection for the other?)

Since I'm pretty sure those things don't count, I try to remember all of my Past Life Experiences. I'll just add them all up, and figure out who I am, and VOILA, I will know that I'll be fine and beat the odds (like a classic Disney film). But, I just remember all the times I made embarrassingly un-funny comments, bought something I didn't want b/c a salesperson was pressuring me, didn't get a job, didn't get accepted to a school, oh, and met a cute boy who thought I was homely and/or awkward. That stack of things I know I about myself is really really lame. Almost offensively lame. There is no way that a main character with THAT as their flashback would succeed against the Hannah Montana odds, UNLESS, there was a major makeover montage first.

Terrific. Wonderful. I don't know anything about my future, and all I DO know about my past is that I'm a huge failure who sucks at life, and likes whiskey and should just cry herself to sleep alone in sweatpants and crusts of pizza surrounding her. Cue hyperventilation.

In a quest of re-discovery (and procrastination), I browsed the blog, and stumbled across my fake personal statement prior to beginning law school.

Check out my cold front of naive audacity, where I wrote: "I've got the strength of self to accomplish what I set out to do. And that's the best I can offer anyone - admissions council or potential boyfriend alike." What a cheeky overly-confident 22 year old brat!

And without any reason! She didn't know what she was doing when she graduated college, she felt that sad immediate loneliness from leaving college dorm life into a world of old people who could care less about you, she had a difficult job, and eventually, she was going to law school at night.

But, if that bratty 22 year old believed this 26 year old could accomplish things, then, I guess I have to believe it too. Even if leaps of faith in yourself are the hardest kind to take.

For the record, I'd rather be betting on a racehorse. Like, Secretariat or Prefontaine. Both are more preferable Disney main characters.

Currently Listening: James Blake - To Care (Like You)

I hope so!

2011-04-18T00:27:00.002-04:00

ME: see what i did there? that was a lawyer question
ALT: hahaha
ALT: i know
ME: there was no way to answer it that didn't benefit me
ALT: you manipulative creep!
ME: hahaha
ALT: hahahahah
ALT: you were born to lawyer up

In the meantime, thank heaven for family. Once in, never out.

Just Smile All The Time

2011-02-16T23:49:00.003-05:00

"It's everybody, I mean. Everything everybody does is so--I don't know--not wrong, or even mean, or even stupid, necessarily. But just so tiny and meaningless--and sad-making. And the worst part is, if you go bohemian or something crazy like that, you're conforming just as much as everybody else, only in a different way."
-- j.d. salinger, franny & zooey

I Love Running.

2011-02-06T17:19:00.003-05:00

Today was a gorgeous Sunday. It feels like Punxsutawney Phil predicted proper, because there's spring in the air instead of more snow. In order to take a break from reading catch-up, I excitedly donned my new running shoes, and sprinted off with my UnitedHealthCare pedometer clipped to the pocket of my sweatshirt.

As I was running along to Moby (yes, really), somewhere in mile 1.5 (according to aforementioned trusty pedometer) I decided I was too hot, and pushed my hoodie off. I was in the process of using both hands to arrange my newly cropped hair into a short half-ponytail when I began to run on the curb in order to bypass an adorable, but slow moving older (mid-50s/60s) couple that were taking up the sidewalk. Of course, of course, of course, my foot misjudged the curb's width, and I tumbled - literally, fell on my back and rolled like a turtle - right in front of the adorable (and now stopped) couple.

"Oof!" I called out as I put both my hands out and scraped up the palms. When I sat back upright, I discovered I had scraped (minimally) the top part of my shin, and I peered into two quixotic faces that were - quite obviously - practiced parents, if not grandparents. They fussed over me, handing me my keys, my hair tie, and iPod that had splayed themselves across the sidewalk during my fall. They reassured me I wasn't bleeding (eventhough I could tell), and helped me up with their own two hands.

In my embarrassment (and amusement), I apologized repeatedly for ... falling, and told them confidently I lived nearby and could make it home just fine.

I did some hill sprints and jogged the rest of the way back to my nearby apartment. Once home, I promptly dabbed the scrape with hydrogen peroxide and now I'm sort of admiring it while I finish up my law school reading.

But, I can feel all my muscles tightening in laughter at me as I move, and I feel every cool breeze on my fresh scrape like a first breath. It's good to be reminded I have a working body that's alive and entertaining, instead of just fingers that type on a keyboard and a brain that can (or can't) absorb employment discrimination law. And, it's nice to feel sort of like a kid again, even if it means being a little clumsy and having strangers fuss over your booboo.

Oh, and also the moral is that I should probably stop trying to "multitask" even when I'm running, and just focus on putting one foot in front of the other and living my life in mindfulness of movement.

But, in the meantime, I'm amused.

Currently Listening: DeVotchKa - How it Ends

In Defense of Tigers and Teeth

2011-01-12T14:32:00.011-05:00

There's a lot of discussion circling the drain on Amy Chua's WSJ excerpt, "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior." Taken from her book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, Chua basically calls Western parents toothless weak idiots that are raising unproductive bratty fragile children.

Before I jump into the fray, I'd like to disclaim that Chua's brief excerpt is clearly outrageous and meant to incite. She does herself no favors by writing like an battle ox, espousing stereotypical (borderline, ah, racist?) views, and exaggerating the "Chinese-ness" of her household by glossing over her marriage to Jed, a nice White Jewish guy. Plus, it seems premature to write a book about her parenting skills when her daughters are mid-teens. I'd like to see what happens in the rebellion stage and college, Mama Chua.

Taken into account that all of this enraged publicity can only be good for her book sales and eventual bottom line, categorize me as suspicious about the depth of Chua's true superiority complex. I suspect she's exaggerating the extent of her meanness and incendiary thoughts to make a buck or two. Not to mention that since WSJ became a Murdoch-owned company, I have reservations about a potentially out-of-context excerpt that's meant to be sensational along the lines of a New York Post article.

It's especially remiss that Chua tells the Tiger Mother story in an accusatory tone that she gives heavy ammunition to those who'd rather dismiss her. Sure, Chua, after you call the entire American Western population retards, they'll definitely want to talk about the merits of your theory. And I do think there are merits to Chua's theory. Why else was I told in high school (by a western girl with feathers sticking out of her pen) that the SATs were "genetically geared for Asians." Robin announced in psych class that studies had, like, totally proven Asians did better on the SATs as a whole, and this meant something in our GENES let us beat standardized testing.

It's pretty insulting to be told hard work is dismissible as a "genetic" advantage. I wonder, Robin, if you'd had spent hours of your Friday night drilling in some tutor's basement, you'd still see the gap so strongly.

So, my immediate response to this article? I laughed. Really hard.

When a fellow first-generation Asian American, K, sent me this article, we danced in how nostalgic the words felt. It's amazing how much Chua's initial description still mimics my own list of restricted activities from nearly 10-20 years ago:

- No sleepovers with friends. MAYBE sleepovers with other cousins.
- No TV from Monday - Friday.
- No school plays (until junior year of HS).
- No boyfriends (until senior year of HS).
- Must take weekly extra math classes. (What's up, Kumon)
- Must play piano
- Must always get A's! (Or at least, top grades).

There a lot of crazy stories I could tell about my upbringing. I admit that as Asian mothers go, mine was pretty squarely in the middle. I never thought of her as the strictest lady on the block, but me and my lil brother certainly couldn't expect to get away with much in our youth. Mom wasn't embarrassed to go seemingly-insane lengths to ensure I obeyed the rules (er, Prime Directive).

And, isn't that really the rub of the conversation? One of the most interesting aspects of Chua's description is that she accurately paints the incredible effort it takes to BE a Tiger Mother. It's not all tyranny and emotional damage, playing Bad Cop takes a brass that a lot of people don't have the stomach for. It means suffering through a child's angry down-turned pout that says over and over: I hate you. It means sacrifice of your own. In college, my Chinese professor announced she had made her 14 year old son stay up all night to re-write a paper after he got a B-. Of course, she stayed up all night with him, hand-peeling green grapes so that the skin wouldn't get stuck in his teeth while he ate and worked. Can you imagine! If given a choice between peeling grapes all night or telling their kid a B- was appropriate, I'm sure most working mothers would rather give their kid a lollipop and tell them just to try harder next time.

But, Chua says lollipops are crippling, and all this burden must be borne in name of the "virtuous cycle". The one where a child can only learn confidence through success. A success, Chua says, that should blossom from viciously hard work.

This makes sense, except that Chua's "virtuous cycle" has nothing to say (so far) about what happens when her well-groomed and prodigal daughters eventually grow up and become ... just another nobody. My issue with the tiger parenting isn't the strictness, but the eventual disappointment. There are a lot of Chinese mothers in the room, and not all their children can be prodigies, billionaires, CEOs, and doctors. The rest of us have to be real schmucks who pay taxes, network for jobs, and be ugly sometimes. After raising a child to believe they are truly special, deserving, and shouldn't settle for anything less than all the weird standardized and prestigious measures of worth; what happens when your child DOES eventually have to settle? When, god forbid, they don't get into Harvard? What does tiger parenting have to say about the moment when you reach adulthood, and realize you're destined to be Average? In reality, no one gives a piss about your critically acclaimed life, and even if they did, that's still not enough to make your days full and happy? What about that moment, Chua?

Maybe Chua will be lucky, and her daughters will go on to lead the exceptional lives Chua has laid out for them. We all know Yale's big on family lineage operating as a valid factor of acceptance and maybe that'll be rosy and Chua will never have to admit she was wrong. But for those kids who find their lives unfolding in different ways, it's impossible not to wonder: What was it all for? Shouldn't I have been searching for the "meaning" in my life? For my passion? For my hobby that isn't marketable in any traditional way?

Maybe yes, and maybe no. The problem with generic parenting styles is that it doesn't work for everyone, and ultimately, I think a parent has to really know the child (and his/her strengths) before all of the screaming and scheming. I can't believe that Tiger parents work for everyone.

I admit that when it came to law school, I mostly let myself be led here by my parents. And I admit that even after I graduate from this oh-so-fancy top-tier law school, I'll still be doomed to become Just Another Lawyer one day. I don't expect to argue ground-breaking cases before the Supreme Court, or start my own firm. But as long as I'm doing LAW, I don't think I'll care. It turns out my parents knew me a lot better than I knew myself, and the legal profession is the perfect place for an over-talkative opinionated person like myself.

So despite the potential disappointment, neurosis, and bruised sociability, I'm glad my parents told me I could do all the really prestigious things - and then pushed me hard to prove it. Because without that I wouldn't have found my way to the things and people I really love.

That's better than a lollipop any day.

I Could Drink the World and Never Get My Fill

2010-12-31T13:10:00.002-05:00

Happy New Year. Who can believe time passes so quickly.

Finally Watched Inception...

2010-12-19T00:22:00.004-05:00

And my mind is officially blown. Also, I'm in love with Leonardo DiCaprio all over again. It's amazing that someone I fell in love with on Growing Pains can grow and mature with me as if we've been actually dating this whole time... wait, is this what stalkers feel?

Don't worry Joseph Gordon Levitt, your sprite-like agility in the no-gravity scenes caused everyone to completely overlook your slight boyish frame and find your deft maneuverability more attractive than brute mannish strength. Truth!

In other news, am home for a bit and brought along four garbage bags worth of laundry. I'm not even ashamed. It gets really real when the washer/dryers in your apartment building cost $2 a piece and you're a student.

Currently Watching: Saturday Night Live's Eminem performance. Why can't I look that good in a knitted cap?

Last Final Tomorrow

2010-12-12T23:40:00.004-05:00

It's exam season and I've got my last final bright and early tomorrow morning which means I'll make this post speedy. This morning, I arose after a sleepless night and ventured into the rainy gray of a Sunday morning in order to get a caffeine fix from the corner Starbucks. My attire was the same one I had been sporting around the house for the last, uh, 5 days, and can only be described as full-on study session regalia (i.e. law school combat uniform)

We'll start from the bottom up.

On my feet were boots. Huge brown ones in order to avoid soaking my feet. On my legs were gray leggings circa 1992 (aka, the first time leggings were cool) and most definitely manufactured by ... Hanes-Her-Way. Oh, and they have an elastic waist that snaps just over my bellybutton. Right. Anti-cool. My upper body was layered in alternating t-shirts, sweaters, and scarves only to be festively completed by one puffy looking hoodie. And finally, my make-up less face was buried deep into a too-big fuzzy ear flap headgear that I'd gotten from a street vendor for $8.

Right, it's a real Eye of the Tiger apparel moment.

While on the corner waiting for the light to turn, a man approaches me innocently and says: "Excuse me, do you know where Amsterdam Falafel is?"

Do I ever! The fries there are heaven. I tell him it's not too far, like a 5 minute walk around the corner. The light changes and I prepare to dash across 18th and blissfully enter the haven of freshly brewed caffeine.

No luck.

Falafel inquires: "Where are you from?"

For the record, I officially hate this question. I get asked this all the damn time and I think it's a rude question from strangers. What if I was adopted? How would you feel then? And do you really want a full ethnic breakdown, or did you just want to remind me I look different than everybody else? But really, more often than not, this question flags Someone With A Fetish and I think I mostly don't like the q because everything that's ever come out of someone's mouth afterwards is gross.)

"What do you mean." I respond to Falafel icily. I push the ear flap headgear further back on my head so he can get the full power of my squinty "almond-eyed" glare.

"Like, what country. Originally." Falafel is undeterred.

"Burma." I say crisply. This isn't exactly true, but since the racial breakdown is majority Burmese, it's usually the answer I give.

"Ohhh, wow. Burma..." Falafel whistles, and then goes. "Uh, where's Burma?" ZERO POINTS.

"Near Thailand"

"Oh, I'm from Dubai." Falafel offers helpfully. I didn't remember asking.

"Oh, neat. I've always wanted to go."

"So, listen, do you want to join me for lunch?"

RUK!?

At this point in the conversation I think I literally became slack jawed and lost competence. Nevermind the fact that I HATE eating in public and on first dates, the sheer stupid ballsiness of this confounded me. Also, this guy was LOOKING at me, right? As in, helloihaven'tevenshoweredyettoday, me?

"Oh, erm, sorry. I have to study."

"Can I get your number then?" Falafel ALREADY HAD HIS PHONE OUT and was preparing to program in my digits he was so confident I'd cough them up. What! I had to get away.

"NO! My boyfriend wouldn't like that very much. But ... thanks!" I called this out as I proceeded to run - no, literally run - across 18th before the walk signal changed.

WHAT. When I came home I promptly told Said Boyfriend the story and he found it entertaining. This world is going bonkers if men will hit on something that looks, dresses, and talks like a homeless woman who has just come back from shopping at the local thrift store. And that IS what I looked, smelled, and talked like. Also, does this mean that my law school combat uniform of sweat-pants is "club appropriate" and I could wear it out to pick up men? Because that would save me a lot of money and be way more comfortable.

Sigh. Last Final, here I come!

Simplicity

2010-12-09T00:29:00.004-05:00

It's where real joy comes from.

Tomorrow = Game Time.

2010-12-06T23:43:00.004-05:00

I have my first final of the Fall Season tomorrow, and it's in Corporations. If anyone's curious, I feel totally "Meh" about it. For the record, I think there are very few law school subjects that lend themselves to a MULTIPLE CHOICE SCANTRON FORMAT. Are you kidding? It's The Law, not Algebra.

However, I discovered that I passed my MPRE's today with great agility. So, hooray! This means I am certifiably ethical enough to be a lawyer. Although, that's never really stopped lawyers from being unethical before, so, take that with a grain of salt.

In my efforts to procrastinate today, I penned a little creative writing piece and re-discovered my cousin's blog: Confessions of a Caffeine Junkie. I realized how much I miss my family sometimes. Life gets in the way of all the things you take for granted.

But, more importantly, I realized that if my cousin who is Working In a Hospital as a Surgeon write updates in between saving goddamn lives, I can definitely do it while reading about litigation.

That's an early New Year's Promise. Let's see if it works.

Bring me a Bitchy Boss.

2010-11-21T23:02:00.001-05:00

So, here's the thing: I'm on the cusp of beginning my "real" career. I graduate in a mere 6 months (whoa), and am looking for gainful employment. In general, my standards are pretty broad, but one of the things I actively want? An intellectual lady with brass stones and rapier wit for a boss. What may commonly be known as A Bitch.

I'm not being cute. For young women, there's a dearth of available professional mentors out there. Say what you like about post-feminism in the workplace, or the disintegrating old boy's network, female lawyers still face a stubbornly sexist field. We make $66k less than our male counterparts on an annual basis, despite similar debts and qualifications. Last week, the Paycheck Fairness Act failed in the Senate, so I can be assured this wage gap persists. Facing these facts, there's nothing outrageous about wanting a female face to help me navigate the unfriendly fire of sexism's two perennial chick stereotypes: The Bitch and The Ditz.

And I'm not being naive. Believe me, I've worked for some hellraisers. My first boss crushed my self-esteem and soul into barely recognizable flecks of fingernail dirt. Her fiercest weapon was her voice, and she used it to taunt, lecture, remind, and demand.

Speak to most burgeoning female professionals, and you'll be hard pressed to find one who hasn't experienced frustration or inexplicable rage. If Betty Friedan captured the impotent anger of housewives, there's a seething mass of young women in the workplace similarly striving to describe their "problem with no voice." I suspect our frustration similarly stems from the quiet insistence there's nothing wrong. The reality and the messaging don't compute: It's the Year of the Woman, but the number of female Congressional representatives backslid for the first time in 3 decades this November. There's no need for the Paycheck Fairness Act, but tell that to Lilly Ledbetter. It's a post-feminist society, but ... can you file my paperwork?

Hellraiser Boss was a lot of things. She never helped me get ahead and paid me sub-par wages. But most of all, she was direct. She came to me - rageful, typo'ed and spit-flying - when I was wrong. Amidst her paper-throwing screaming fits, there was an underlying message: You are tough enough to take this. And if you aren't, I don't care - you will be soon.

The thing about tough love is that it presumes an individual's inherent capability. Hellraiser was a Heavyweight, and if she was picking a fight with me, that meant I was one too. After every match, I boiled over with fierce hatred, envisioning ways for Hellraiser to reap her sour karma. But, then came the eventual resolve: Kiki, you can do this, so pick up your boxing mitts and get to work. And I did. I was, afterall, a Heavyweight, right?

By comparison, every post-Hellraiser boss has been a man that's treated me with affable kid gloves. There's nothing wrong with kid gloves, you know. Kids play nice, they laugh, they get ice cream and pizza. But where's the push in that? Kids are also incapable wrecks who cry and wet themselves. After too long, I missed the weird inverse affirmation that came from Bitchy Boss. Why's everybody being so ... docile around me? Why is no one challenging me? Why isn't anyone letting me to do something besides Schedule Their Appointments? ... Oh my god, do they not think I'm capable? Don't they know I'm a HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION?!

One of the biggest professional labors is reminding bosses that Girls are MORE than just Good Administrative Staffers. In this long, constant, needling struggle, it's impossible to not stare longingly at the corner office and wish for a female mentor to capably oscillate between kindness and grit. For a Lady Boss to toss you an assignment, tell you it needs fixing without any type of wink or sly affirmation, and gruffly remind Sam Wonder to clear the dishes in the office kitchen.

And that's all I want: Tough love doled out to me by some savvy brunette broad with a blackberry. Not forever, but just for right now.

I'm tough enough to take it.

And if not, I will be. I'm a Heavyweight.

Currently Listening: Florence and the Machine, "Howl"

Hit Rewind!

2010-11-08T23:38:00.002-05:00

The following is a list of songs I have genuinely believed should be prominently featured in My Wedding of the Future. As in, the song I did one of the following activities to:
1. Walking down the aisle.
2. Sharing my first dance with my husband (most songs fall in this category)
3. But first, sharing my LAST dance with my father

Don't get any ideas, people. This is more about the hilarity of juxtaposition than any real planning purpose. So, here we go, Kiki's Wedding Mixtape:

The Beatles, In My Life
Billy Joel, She's Got a Way
The Beatles, Something
Van Morrison, Someone Like You
Justin Timberlake, My Life (but, an acoustic version!)
Etta James, At Last (so cliche)
Jens Lekman, Someone to Share My Life With
Kelly Clarkson, My Life Would Suck Without You
Pachelbal, Canon in D major
Alicia Keyes, If I Ain't Got You
Lisa Harlow Stark, Daddy's Girl (this is from the Baby-Sitter's Club Movie soundtrack.)

Pulling Up: Blogs, Careers, and Socks.

2010-10-13T19:00:00.000-04:00

Summer is coming to a fierce and sweaty close, as the sun makes one last dying play with a week of 80 degree heat. Meanwhile, I've been avoiding law school's leathery grasp by sunning myself, cleaning, and drinking.

It's my Last Year of Law School, and really, that means very little to me. Nothing's changed in my life. Over the summer I applied to 200 federal clerkships, moved apartments, traveled Europe, met a boy (or more specifically, discovered a boy I'd already met before), and attended my brother's graduation. Ho-hum.

Most recently, I won my first real case as A Lawyer for A Client. Without delving too much into the details, suffice to say (in verse, no less):

There was my client, a kind young man
Afraid to return to his homeland
He was being deported
And because he couldn't afford it
Student lawyers represented him for free
So that I could see
What lawyers really do!

Before an Immigration Judge
I stood without a budge
And declared: "You must let him stay
He'll die if we send him away."
The judge agreed
And declared the man aslyee-d
Hooray! We saved a life today!

This led me to discover that perhaps I really wanted to be A Lawyer. Uh oh. Way to blow the last three years trying to do public interest work, Kiki. Oh well. I'll find a way to make it happen.

In the meantime, it's becoming Fall which means the unearthing of my Fall Wardrobe collection. I don't know why Fall's so bomb, but it is. Hello crisp-scented air, hoodie sweatshirts under blazers and fried turkeys, Mama's happy to see you.

Brains Are Amazing

2010-09-14T21:12:00.003-04:00

Today, I was waiting in a coffee shop for a meeting with another student. Over the speaker system, some piece of Classical Music was playing. I hummed along idly while futzing around on my phone. I like this song, I thought to myself. What song is this? ... I don't know. Really? But, I DO know it, I just can't ... remember who composed it ....

Frustrated at the inability of my memory, I did what I always do when I'm lost, confused, or unsure: I consulted the internet.

Stupidly, I tried to "Shazam" but just ended up looking like a strangely limber girl stretching her phone towards the nearest ceiling speaker for no apparent reason. "Song cannot be identified" reported back Shazam. Of course not.

Disappointed, I gave up and went to meet with the student and study. Hours later, while sitting in the library, the song re-entered the forefront of my brain. Except this time, Brain slammed the answer down on the proverbial countertop with a little attitude:

Debussy. Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum. BAM. SUCK IT.

This isn't a novel experience by any stretch of the imagination. Everyone says "Oh, it'll come to me later." But ... WHY does it come to us later?! Or, more directly: I think Brain is awesome.

Think about it, while I was whimsically going about with my everyday tasks, Brain had overhead a few stray measures of a song WITHOUT LYRICS, tucked away the chords and notes in a crevice somewhere, and then feverishly compared it to all the composers & titles I had previously stored. What! That's incredible when you really stop to marvel at it.

You go, Badass Brain. Maybe I should've used you to be a scientist.

Desirez-vous l'histoire?

2010-05-29T08:00:00.009-04:00

It's a breezy Saturday afternoon in the South of the France. We've just been to the old Antibes market area, and are preparing a French "dejeuner" of baguette, olive tapanade, cheese, and wine. All fresh!

Most of my time here has started the same way: A morning run along the coast road, stretch on the lawn, and then eat, sightsee, drink, and read. So far, the days are starting to blur together so I will dispense with ornamental introductions and describe each adventure by city. Hoy boy are we having adventures.

Monte-Carlo, Monaco

This city is the site of the famous Grand Prix race. For an entire weekend, grand stand seating is built on available park, sidewalk, and port space while cars zip through the windy bendy mountain roads lap after lap. Originally, the Grand Prix was a race from London to Monaco (formerly part of France). Dear Nascar, Monaco thinks you're a bunch of sissies.

We went the weekend after the Grand Prix race, so all of the grand stands were still up. It's amazing that no one seems to care, you can race up and down them and stand on the top row. From there you can get the truly inspirational views of Monte Carlo.

Monte Carlo is also famous for Prince Rainier's celebrity wedding to American Hollywood star, Grace Kelly. Their marriage brought star power and intrigue to the city that now results in it being a ritzy mountain-side town filled with fancy cars and long-legged women. Hollywood Royalty like Frank Sinatra and co. used to stay at the Hotel de Paris, beside a seriously old - and majestic looking - casino. The boys remarked that next time, they'd dress in the matching pant and vest outfit of the valets, and drive off with soemone's very expensive car. Not a bad idea.

St. Tropez, France
On a bright day, the parents, brother, and cousin loaded into the rental car and drove the 2-hour jaunt to this beachside party town. In it's heyday, Brigitte Bardot made this hot spot the place to be. Of course, en route, we missed the exit, and attempted a detour that involved the windy mountain roads of le Garde-Freinert et Grimaud. Dizzying. We finally found our way to St. Tropez, promptly parked, and hunted around for a restaurant. Eat, drink, and read. That's all I've done in the South of France.

St. Tropez is obviously more of a summer beach town. In exploring the main square, you can't help but feel like Tropez shutters most of its shops during the colder months, and probably doesn't have much village life that isn't somewhat centered on tourism.

After lunch and a walk, we hopped back in the car and followed the iPhone's guiding GPS hand. The mission? To find if a beach etched warmly into my father's memory still existed. ("He visited it back when he was a SINGLE man," jeered my mother laughingly.) With only a vague sense of direction, my Apple-equipped father landed on the spot (even managing to veer off course for winery visits along the way).

As we rolled into the private parking lot (with thatched roofs to keep the cars cool! Brilliant!) a row of RV-Trailers, approximately 10-13 came into view at the far end. Apparently, vans could hole up beachside for entire weeks (or months!) at a time. Upon stepping out of the car, the sounds of a serious techno beat could be heard from the sandy dunes ahead. This was at, like, 4 pm in the afternoon.

My brother and I had a quick nap on the beach. Mom & Dad walked around, and my mother enthusiastically declared that the bar/lounge up the beach was having Margaritas as the "Beverage du Jour". We headed towards the restaurant for a taste, and discovered a raging party set of FORTY-YEAR OLDS DANCING ON TABLETOPS TO DAVID GUETTA. Wtf is happening. If there's a place to grow old, damnit, it's France. How can you have a mid-life crisis when the French clearly intend for you to have a good time ALL your life? Christ.

After awkwardly sipping on ridiculously overpriced drinks (that's the other thing, St. Tropez requires a level of decadence that is not sustainable), we all returned to the car and to our quiet sleepy house in Antibes.

Alright, I'll stop here for now. I've got to cover our travels to Barcelona, but next time.

Currently Listening: Robyn - Dancing on My Own

Antibes: Part 1

2010-05-21T05:19:00.005-04:00

This morning, I was awoken by a little brother rapping insistently on my door. "Michelle! Wake up and go running!"

Groooan. As I blearily got out of bed, I cursed the late night promise I'd made my brother, and pulled on the ancient running shoes I'd carried across the pond in my suitcase. I ran from our house along the Coastal Road into Antibes' Juan Les Pins (the equivalent of Antibes' boardwalk area.) I still maintain that an early morning run is one of the best ways to get to know a new city. Eventhough my run this morn was not exactly "early" (does 10 am count?), it was certainly beautiful. We'd driven along Coastal Road many times, but running along without your headphones wakes you up to all the little things - the smell of algae growing on stone, the sound of waves against boats, and the merry french chatter of women in their house gates. Men with fully gray facial hair cycle past in tightly worn spandex with a cherry "Bonjour!"

Yesterday, we drove to Cannes to catch the end of the Cannes Film Festival. After lunch at a restaurant on the beach, we wandered along the boardwalk and Rue d'Antibes (s shopping street, the equivalent of Rodeo Drive). Everyone is prettier here. Women with matchstick legs teeter around in hot shorts and heels that seem ankle-breaking. We made our way to the infamous red carpet, where crowds of other tourists and paparazzi milled around to try and get a glimpse of someone famous. Alack. No banana.

However, last night, amfAR hosted a party at the Hotel du Cap, a gorgeous beachside hotel down the road from the House. It was rumored that Russell Crowe and other starlets were to be in attendance, so after dinner we packed up extra sweaters and wandered down the road to see if we could catch a glimpse of the stars. Unfortunately, we missed their grand entrances. DANGIT. However, true to Kiki form, we made friends with the American Hollywood Press contingent and spent roughly 3 hours waiting around outside and gabbing with them.

Just when we were about to give up, waltzing out comes Michelle Rodriguez. The best part of this whole affair was that my mother - MY MOTHER - siddled over the barrier and snuck up beside Rodriguez for a picture. Our paparazzi friends went NUTS, and brother and I lost our marbles. God bless my mother. Of course, this turned out to be the high part of our night, and the rest of the evening was filled with beautiful posers trying to get into the party. Our paparazzi friends informed us that Russell Crowe, Kirstn Dunst, Paris Hilton, and Mike Jagger were inside somewhere ... but we were peons stuck outdoors.

The itinerary for today includes Monte Carlo and then San Remo, Italy.

More to come later!

Tumblr...?

2010-04-19T18:18:00.002-04:00

I'm thinking about switching to a new URL at .tumblr.com

1) Good idea? Bad idea?
2) What should the handle be? mkobes.tumblr.com again?

Decisions, decisions...

Becoming a Lawyer...

2010-03-03T22:50:00.001-05:00

In the Streets You Run Free

2010-02-13T21:25:00.010-05:00

Today is Valentine's Day. A day for couples to joyously celebrate their love for one another with flowers, cards, chocolate, and teddy bears. How do I feel today? Totally indifferent.

You think I'm lying. Pretending to be indifferent. And I know. A young single woman on Valentine's Day is supposed to feel murderously depressed. I should be lying in some boozed up puddle on my couch having a neurotic breakdown about the fact that I'm alone. I ought to be spinning in a self-defeating circle and expressing my loneliness as rage by hating myself, men, and everything that's preventing me from attaining the merry domestic bliss of True Love.

But, the truth is, I don't feel any of those things.

Maybe I'm missing the hype factor. On previous Valentine's Days, boyfriends have taken me through the traditional steps: Roses. Dinner dates. Hand-holding and gifts. Sure, it was a lovely evening, with lovely boyfriends, full of lovely things. But, without those things - and without those boys - I don't feel particularly suicidal.

And why should I? Are men expected to display the same crippling self-doubt when reminded of the fact that they're single? No way. For most bachelors, today, is just another Sunday.

But women are constantly being told that we need a relationship to validate our existence. We aren't worthwhile until someone loves us. Consequently, we must devote high quotas of time/energy to finding, keeping, and trapping our Prince Charming. We should abhor being alone, and fear spinsterhood like a contagious disease.

But none of this is true. At least, not as intensely true as Romantic Comedies (like the aptly named: Valentine's Day) would have you believe. I admit that as my peers peel off into serious pairings, it's harder to avoid feeling like I'm being left behind. But left behind from what? Women have independent passions that also validate a worthy life. And we should be reminded of that more often. Instead, our heads are filled with He's Just Not That Into You, sexy tricks to keep from cheating, and endless recommendations on getting the man you want. Really? The list of things I want in the near future reads: badass apartment downtown, fierce lawyer job, and the perfect pencil skirt. Notably absent? Teddy bears, husbands, and babies.

None of this is to say I'm bitterly anti-Vday. I'm not. It just fails to make me feel insecure or crazy. I believe in Lasting Love, and I believe I'll find it. And when I do, I hope it is a hilarious, tumbling, rapturous affair. But in the meantime, I will focus on the people and pursuits I already love. I will dance to Michael Jackson in karaoke bars, swill whiskey/tequila with my favorite people, and move to a new city. I will laugh. Loudly. At everything.

Afterall, it's just another Sunday.

Currently Listening: Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zero - "Home"

Buzzed Yet?

2010-02-13T18:12:00.003-05:00

Google bought blogspot. Google developed "Buzz". Gmail contacts got recommendations to "follow my buzz". My gmail buzz and blog are synced. Now, when I post a blog update, buzz followers will see it! So: Hello, buzz followers. This is my blog.

That's pretty much all I wanted to say for right now.

Currently Listening: Phil Adé - Going Off.
DC based hip hop artist capable of lyrical adroitness. "Going Off" and "Never Let You Go" are my favorite tracks. "Pretty Girls" is my new morning mix.

Bring it on Home to Me

2009-12-06T00:10:00.009-05:00

When in doubt, remember you have love in your life.

... And if not love, then at least you're got a shitton of hilarious stories for later.

Currently Listening: Cumberland Loft Sessions - "I Feel More Like I Did Back Then"

Also Listening: Cumberland Loft Sessions - "Shenendoah"

Hold Onto Whatever You Find, Baby.

2009-11-08T09:06:00.005-05:00

I'll admit it: Yesterday was a Bela day. Despite a gloriously warm November breeze, I woke up early to set up shop in a sunny corner of the law school library. For the rest of the day, I manned camp and sneered at the bleary-eyed 1L's attempting to encroach on my prime real estate with their energy shots and frayed bluebooks. Then, I returned home, promptly put on my jammies and dwadled amongst piles of legalness.

Meanwhile, the House passed HR 3962, aka monumental healthcare reform. The news media really spun out its 24-hour news wheels yesterday for this one. Quick, CNN, show me that footage of the empty chamber room again. At approximately 11:15 pm, I watched as History Was Made. Applause applause. Pelosi says the bill has passed. Gavel. Huzzahs. Hoorays.

I'm not even sure I fully understand what's IN the House's bill. Does anyone? But, the one component that I am cognizant of is the Stupak/Pitts Amendment. Like so many crimes against women, the Stupak/Pitts vote assaulted us in the middle of the night, openly, amid the rushed minutes before Congressional climax. And now, after the fact, people point fingers as to who said yes to what.

The Stupak/Pitts Amendment tightens restrictions on abortion access in an unprecedented way. Private companies involved with the public exchange program established within HR 3962 may not fund or subsidize the cost of abortion at all. Impoverished American women receiving healthcare under the expanded public option would be similarly barred. Doubtful? Read it for yourself. (I love the NYT).

This last minute trade cannot be ignored. In a brief piece last night, Ezra Klein quips:

If this amendment passes, it will mean that virtually all women with insurance through the exchange who find themselves in the unwanted and unexpected position of needing to terminate a pregnancy will not have coverage for the procedure. Abortion coverage will not be outlawed in this country. It will simply be tiered, reserved for those rich enough to afford insurance themselves or lucky enough to receive from their employers.

The irony of containing this provision in a bill meant to expand national healthcare coverage is almost laughable. In addition to lowering costs across the board, the healthcare push is intended to provide primary insurance for Americans who are currently unable to afford it. These impoverished women make up a disproportionate size of the population that currently need - and will continue to need - abortions.

The Amendment allows for women to purchase "separate supplemental coverage plans", but the idea that families will dive further into the bureaucracy of insurance to purchase a special Abortion-Allowance plan is detached and ridiculous.

I firmly believe that the Choice/Life rhetoric is antiquated. Being Pro-Choice does not mean being Anti-Life. I love life. Furthermore, The Abortion Debate is not appropriate for legislation primarily focused on funding and coverage. The legality of abortion has already been determined by the S.Ct in Roe v. Wade. It's legal. So long as this is the case (and who knows how long that will be), it is insane that public funds would be barred from providing safe medical care for a legally recognized medical procedure.

Some proponents argue, unlike other necessary medical procedures, abortions are easily avoidable "conditions." Through the effective execution of "preventive" medicine like birth control, condoms, and - fine - abstinence, abortions wouldn't be necessary. The cost of correction for such carelessness is too high. Oh? Preventive medicine also includes eating right, exercising weekly, and avoiding McDonalds three times a day. However, in the unfortunate circumstance that someone develops Type 2 Diabetes from failing to do those very things, the government does not mandate them to a life without insulin. While I agree that prevention techniques are important, in the unfortunate circumstance of an unwanted pregnancy, there should not be the maze of restricted access which the Stupak Amendment creates.

Others further argue that gastric bypasses and plastic surgery (facelifts, etc.) are legal medical procedures that also won't receive funding. The difference is that those procedures are largely cosmetic, and not primary care. The outcome of not being able to afford a facelift? I get to keep the face I was given. The outcome of not being able to afford an abortion?

A world of change.

In the meantime, I don't want to detract from the very real work that Pelosi and the House has done in wrangling the 220 votes to Make History. However, I will hold my applause and celebration so long as it continues to come at the bartered expense of women's self-integrity.

Currently Listening: Mike Posner - "I Don't Trust Myself"

Weekends are Glorious.

2009-10-18T21:38:00.006-04:00

Snippets. Video clip first. Link to full album at the end. Livin' is a wonderful thing.

From Andi's Party!

Like a Summer Rose, I'm a Victim of the Fall...

2009-09-26T08:35:00.003-04:00

It's ironic (yet fitting) that I'm awake earlier on this bruised Saturday morning than any day during the week. Restless thoughts and a cool breeze.

Fall is absolutely my favorite season. I think it suits my baser instincts. I love the glam, glitz, and frenetic of Fun sometimes. But, on some level, I just want to burrow into a fleece blanket and dream of Thanksgiving & fried turkeys. I think if hard-pressed, however, I'd really have to say the best season(s) are the moments of intangible inbetween change. Does that even make sense? Can grey be my favorite color? The turn of a season is always the best part of it. All of a sudden the cool weather feels like a welcome respite against a too-hot summer. I embrace Fall's insistence that it's time to pack away the bikini and open up the sweater box. But, come February, I will be only too grateful for snow. I'll yearn for the cleanness of it in contrast to the rotted and browned leaves gathering on the sidewalk. So, maybe I'm just fickle.

Either way, fall will always be my favorite RUNNING season. I took myself (like usual) to Roosevelt Island yesterday. I adore the Teddy Roosevelet monument. I love everything about it. I love that it's snobbishly distant from the Smiths and the Mall. I love that when you stumble upon it, you always feel a little bit surprised that it still exists. I love that it makes me feel like I'm in one of those Post-Apocalypse Movies where civilization has been destroyed, and a renegade forest sprung up around this oasis of beautifully carved marble and stone bridges. I love that it's never crowded, and I love that this makes me feel like the entire monument is actually Mine.

After my run, I promptly took myself to U Street and discovered The Gibson. A nice little joint hidden behind an unlabeled black door, it's undeniably swank speakeasy. A good place to sit and entertain Fall drinking habits: slow, deliberate, and savored. It will eventually become terrible, but for now, it's balancing the popularity of its anonymity well. I promptly made friends with the bartender when we mutually rolled our eyes at the dame next to me who inquired:

"Uhm, what's the girlest drink you have? I, like, don't even know what half these things on the menu are!"

If you wanted a cosmo, darling, you should've stuck to Dupont. After an Old-Fashioned, the bartender insisted I try a Sazerac. Not a bad drink, however, a iPhone google search revealed it contains absinthe. Lady Bartender had neglected to mention this. Uh oh.

Finally, we made our way to Ben's Chili Bowl and I ordered a half-smoke with chili/cheese fries. (There is a fat kid inside of me dying to get out, I tell you). This was the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. I was literally licking the chili off the tin foil when I was finished. Although. Maybe that was the absinthe.

After making my way home, I tucked in and forgot to pull the shades. I woke up this morning to a grey window and stoic emotions.

The thing is this: I love citylife.

But, how can I be thirsting for more when the city already offers so much? Will I ever be satisfied?

Currently Listening: Ben Harper - Morning Yearning.

Human LCDs

2009-09-20T10:18:00.001-04:00

This is incredible. Students make a virtual LCD screen with their clothes! Huzzah Asians.

They'll be Sun Sun Sun

2009-09-06T22:30:00.004-04:00

Before I dive back into the muck and mercury that is 2L year, I have to comment that it's been a perfectly perfect weekend at the beach with my hometown favorites. ADLeonard? I drop your name just to show off that I know you. And yes, I am glad.

As I attempt to catch up on the news, I notice that Gordon Brown has promised to maintain (if not increase) Britain's troop levels in Afghanistan, while simultaneously taking part in an int'l conference with France & Germany on altering the role troops play in Afghanistan. Obama, so far, has been unsurprisingly silent. Meanwhile, inside-the-beltway blogs are fretting over the resignation of Van Jones and Congress' return. Axelrod tries to assure everyone Public Option Isn't Off The Table, much to Michael Steele's nuanced disapproval.

In the news of me, I have nothing. I'm re-reading Faulkner's "Light in August" for funsies because I need something other than a casebook to maintain sanity. I have exactly 7 bug bites on each leg and I smell like sunscreen and beach. I'm excited to participate in DC's upcoming Shorts Film Festival because I've never really quit my love of film. Somehow, I've discovered Paste Magazine and this is special because it's new music no one told me about. (But I still love the music people tell me about.) My birthday was a blast (maybe too much of a blast) and now I'm 25. Twenty. Five. Most days I feel lonely and alive at the same time, and this makes everything bittersweet. Let's hold hands until the dizziness wears off. No? Then lets spin in circles until we fall down. In a pile of leaves. Crunch!

Hello Fall. You're still my favorite season.

Currently Listening: Jonah Smith - My Morning Scene.

Ed's Birthday Gift to Me

2009-08-28T15:11:00.003-04:00

Me: Omg, I just got it.
Ed: Haha, you like it?
Ed: Afterall, what better gift
Ed: Than the gift of love
Ed: Or at least, funny dates.

I love my bb so much.

Most Annoying Question Ever

2009-08-27T13:53:00.002-04:00

"Got any easy friends that'll be there?"

Not one. Not two. Not three. But FOUR men have now asked me this question in prep for a party I'm throwing this weekend. The answer, inevitably, everytime, is: "No."

This Lil Piggy Cried "Weee" All The Way Home.

2009-08-15T23:57:00.003-04:00

I have officially arrived back in the States following epic European vacation that kept me laughing and pale for most of the summer. I am now wandering around the house in boxers and a tank top because the AC seems non-existent and summers in The District are miserably humid affairs. Fantastic. I feel jet-lagged, exhausted and broke; something akin to the moment when you are finished torpedoing down a water slide and have slammed out feet first into the waiting pool of diapers and piss. Terrific ride, but wtf am I now standing in.

Returning home after a trip is always an interesting lesson in habits. Despite all of the things I've learned and experienced, the moment I stepped off the airplane at Dulles I felt all of myself clicking back into place. If Departure is the sound of a cruise ship's horn, then Arrival is the creaking snap of a body realigning itself into a comfortable groove. And my DC groove is one of powerful addiction.

While riding the bumper people transport from the plane to the terminal, I twittered, and facebooked status'd my exact whereabouts and thoughts. I checked my email on my mobile for the first time in a month (it felt dangerously glorious), and hungrily read about town hall meetings and healthcare. (well, shit). As soon as the people transport latched into the terminal, I powerwalked to baggage claim with my haughty little swinging pigtails. After waiting an HOUR for my luggage because the "conveyor belt broke", I yanked my bags off the belt with determined clumsiness and stared down the elderly Indian man who attempted to help. I maneuvered my bags through the Customs line the same way I drive my lil 'Tegra, and inserted myself between a family of four. The man and his trolley of luggage were left stranded in my wake, while his wife and their two boys continued on in front of me. I paid no attention and continued angling to cut another family off until Dad nudged me with his backpack and gestured that "he was with them." I sneered. A family wanting to hold hands through the Customs line. How pedestrian and adorable.

Truth is that I'm utterly crankypants at the notion of being back. My head - captain, oh captain - has regained total control and is now issuing orders to the rest of my body with the traditional authority. All of the seriousness of life has come rushing back to me in a flood of bills, law school books, health care forms, and full-length mirrors that tell me I'm too ugly/skinny/fat/or freckled. Vile glass. I hope you shatter so hard you can't even seen your own face.

Despite the re-fastening of my body into its old mold, I'm determined to strive for more. It's the dawn of new things, and I want - desperately - to paint change into the life I have ahead of me. So. Let's begin. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Currently Listening: Daniel Merriweather - "For Your Money" & "Change" (ft. Wale).

In Oxford. Bitches.

2009-07-14T08:08:00.003-04:00

You heard me.

Currently Listening: Boy Eats Drum Machine - "Two Ghosts"

The Only Michael Jackson Thing I'll Put Up

2009-07-10T01:04:00.001-04:00

And really, just because I am a fan of WongFu Production (three Asian dudes my age making films? Oh what, I've stalked them since I was in college at Wellesley and they were at UCSD?), and Quest Crew.

Man alive I love me some Asian menfolk sometimes.

Love It All

2009-07-01T09:30:00.008-04:00

It's summertime in the city. Although, you'd be hard pressed to remember it since rain beats down every other day in swathing sheets of thunder-mixed storms. But hey, that can be part of the fun too. Afterall, when's the last time the crack of thunder made me sit up in the middle of the night and briefly contemplate waking up my roomie to see if she was scared too?

Anyway. It's now, July. In the next few weeks, I've got a bevy of change that's scheduled to take place. It seems that 2 years might be the sticking time before I get (as I've been told) "shpilkes". Despite my excitement, I'm starting to get scared. It's always frightening to try to do something different, and wonder aloud: Can I do this? Nay. Can I flourish at this? Am I ready?

It's taken me until 24, to just start getting comfortable with the notion that I should "let it ride". I don't mean let life take you places, blah blah blah, I'm still neurotic and I'm still a planner. No. I mean, it's taken me until 24 to be comfortable with letting The Me - the crazy parts, and the selfish parts, and the unfulfilled parts - ride. In essence, I'm taking ADLeonard's well-put advice to "rage more". Despite enduring the repercussions of my hysterical hissy fits or vulnerability, it's endlessly more liberating to know you were just being you. What a shame to be in my mid-twenties and just starting to give voice (or learn) what I want.

In that vein, however, recent changes:

- I dyed a streak in the back of my head bright pink. This is wonderfully entertaining. Everytime I catch my reflection or see other people elbowing each other in the ribs I feel an incredible sense of gleeful satisfaction.
- I leave for Oxford in a week. I'll be there for a month to study international law and international rights law of women. I am super excited.
- I've decided to go back to law school full time. The poverty is frightening, but the opportunities are encouraging.

Currently Listening: Langhorne Slim - "Be Set Free"

Piano Battle

2009-06-27T20:53:00.001-04:00

Nothing says "weekend" quite like a piano-battle face off clip from the 2007 Taiwanese movie "The Secret".

I am obsessed with how sick these boys' piano skills are.

Speaking of Friendship, I'm the Worst Friend Ever.

2009-06-23T00:18:00.003-04:00

So. This just happened online.

PETER: I gotta get to sleep
ME: aw, boo. please don't go yet. we never talk anymore.
PETER: no, i should've been in bed 10 mins ago. g'night, hopefully we can talk tomorrow.
ME: sure, whatever. it's always tomorrows with you. we won't talk tomorrow.
PETER: fine, don't call me on my bday then
ME: WHAT
ME: IS THAT TRUE
PETER: yep

Oh, hilarious. I'm an asshole.

True Friendship...

2009-06-16T10:11:00.004-04:00

... can always make you burst into unexpected laughter.

Currently Listening: Frightened Rabbit - "The Modern Leper"

All Day in the Clouds

2009-06-14T13:57:00.003-04:00

My computer is so slow, and the real world is so much faster.

An unexpectedly great and calm weekend.

Last week we saw Dave Brubeck's Quartet in concert at Warner Theater. There was something about seeing this elderly gentleman who shuffle-walked on stage with the help of his saxophonist sit down at the helm of a Grand and speak his soul through his fingertips. It was wonderfully moving.

For today, I've taken it outdoors to the grassy "knoll" outside my apartment with an evidence book and green highlighter. Green is for grass stains.

The day could only be made better if someone brought me a dinner of chicken with mustard dipping sauce and steamed corn on the cob. Maybe with a side of freshly cut tomato and chili salsa-slaw. We'd have honeydew or white peaches for dessert. Mmm.

Purely hypothetical of course.

Summer!

Currently Listening: Dirty Projectors - "Two Doves"

Sugar, Spice, & Everything Nice?

2009-06-07T20:52:00.008-04:00

I am not a nice person by nature. For me, niceness is a learned trait, cultivated with careful attention after I graduated elementary school without any real friends because I accidentally spoke all the mean thoughts in my head to people.

There's this fantastic old family video of me and my cousins playing as kids in one of those "baby" pools. One of my cousins squirts me with a water gun, and I retreat out of the baby pool and relinquish my prime pool-spot under her siege. I disappear out of the screen shot for a good 5 - 8 minutes, only to return back in the frame with a huge bucket of cold dirty hose water. I proceed to dump its freezing contents on my cousin's head. She screams, and when I've emptied it fully onto her back, I SCREECH to her: "I DID THAT TO YOU BECAUSE YOU DID IT TO ME."

When I first watched the video I was absolutely mortified with myself. What a wretched young disdainful brat I'd been. But even now, at 24, I still feel those frighteningly vengeful angry impulses rise in my core.

Today, I'm just a dry, sassy, and fundamentally awkward sunovabitch. And most of the time, I'm worried my inner self with her snobbish red temper is going to rear her misshapen head in public.

But really, would that be so bad? I've always admired fantastically feisty women for having the gall to be themselves without apology. During the W years, I was always wonderfully angry. It found its way into my causes, how I treated men, and my spoken word. But now, in the real world, I have no outlet for it, and I just can't handle the ensuing dislike of others.

If left to my own devices, I think I'd prefer to just stay at home in an old sweatshirt, learning about the world from my television set and all the while maintaining a distant cool air of snobbery. However, this is not an Actual Life Option, so I make do with ridiculous stories, exaggerated facial expressions, and now - a kazoo. (Still the best gift ever from the best Best ever.)

So now, when in doubt, I laugh. I love laughing. I love people with good laughs, I love people that can make me laugh, and I love people that laugh at my stories. I could be doing the crappiest job in the whole wide world, and if the people I'm with have a sense of humor about it - I'm doing okay. I think this attitude will eventually lead to my demise as Queen of the World (I'm pretty sure there are no paintings of Elizabeth I with her mouth agape and belly-laughing over the monarchy.) But hell, it keeps me going.

So with that, I present to you pictures of The Time I (Almost) Fed A Giraffe. We've decided that the giraffe is basically my Spirit Animal. Cause, well, look at it. What the hell is it doing still on this earth? Does it know it's one of the most awkward lookin' creatures we've still go around?

And that, ladies and gentleman, is actually: The Story of Me. But god bless if I didn't laugh so hard I cried this weekend. And really, what else do you need.

I Admit It.

2009-05-20T23:50:00.004-04:00

I'm in love with your face.

Smell of honeysuckle and ear-to-ear grins.

Perfection in the city.

Currently Listening: Mary J. Blige - "Just Fine"

For Now We Are Young....

2009-05-17T10:08:00.008-04:00

One day we will die and our ashes will fly
But for now we are young, so let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we see...
~neutral.milk.hotel.:in the aeroplane over the sea.

Sometimes

2009-05-04T18:23:00.002-04:00

Your heart breaks for no reason at all.

Currently Listening: Explosions in the Sky - Remember Me as a Time of Day

The female advantage - The Boston Globe

2009-05-03T23:27:00.001-04:00

The female advantage - The Boston Globe

Posted using ShareThis

Streak to Win: Why yes, that IS me in my college sweatshirt...

2009-04-25T10:47:00.004-04:00

See the webisodes here: www.streaktowin.com

Currently Listening: Cat Power - New York

The Post-Finals List.

2009-04-22T01:08:00.004-04:00

I just have to hold it together for approximately one more week and I will have officially made it through my First Year of (Evening Program) Law School. That's crazy. Who knew time flew.

To get me through the muck, I am making a list of things I must/will do after finals. In no particular order.

1. Go to the Leesburg outlets and go nuts. I am starting to look homeless. My workpants have holes in them. Unacceptable.

2. See the new Star Trek movie. JJ Abrams has officially crowned himself the King of Epic Series Prequels; Treeeekkie-Monster gobble!

3. Hang out with ADLeonard. I've been putting you on hold. I know.

4. Check out a spa for the first time. Specifically, a massage. Why wait?

5. Kill all the mothereffin' ants in my kitchen. For serious. Your tireless work ethic and builder ingenuity may be charmingly inspiring on the Discovery Channel, but in my home it's just a pain in the ass. Stop ... avoiding ... the poison bait that will kill your whole colony!

6. Mayflower Martini on MayDay. My my my.

7. Get a haircut. See #2 re: starting to look homeless. @Jiffy: Shabby /= Sexy.

8. Build that 2nd bookcase for our living room.

9. NYC trip to see the crew.

10. Hmmmm. Sleeeeeeeeeepppppp.

Afterwards.

2009-04-16T22:10:00.005-04:00

For a hypochondriac, I am surprisingly afraid of doctors. Of hospitals. Of waiting rooms lined with plastic chairs and their wooden armrests. It's impossible to be inside my head sometimes. I am hyper afraid that when I leave everyone pulls out my chart and mocks my ridiculously low white blood cell count, while simultaneously not giving an actual crap about me, my health, and the fact that I will eventually die from heart disease/cancer/toxic air/random disease #49.

I am simultaneously afraid of overexposure and anonymity. Who even knew that was possible.

My doctor explains everything to me and this helps. As I'm walking out of her office, I am totally fine. Laughing at the unbelievable level of awkward that is the medical profession sometimes. Oh, hey, stranger - can you take a peek at my belly button lint and tell me if it should be a little more ... linty? Could you also invade my personal space a little more and stick a bright light in my eye while I tell you every intimate thing about myself and intersperse it with gibberish about law school to keep the awkward at a minimum? Awesome. Thanks.

It's when I get to the car that I realize how angry I am. Just. Furious. This is also laughable. Irony can be a real bitch sometimes. A literal slap across the face. And as I speed down Rt. 66 I punch at my steering wheel so hard it turns my knuckles raw. Red. There's no point to this, so I quit it.

When I get home, I sit on my living room couch with my arms crossed for a very long time. Feet up on the coffee table. I count my breaths the way I used to when I was trying to learn how to meditate.

Everything will be fine. I know this.

But still. I could just scream. What a son of a bitch life can be sometimes.

Son of a fuckin' bitch.

"Rather Than Everyone Here Learning Chinese..."

2009-04-09T23:43:00.001-04:00

What's really most annoying for me, is that Rep. Betty Brown says Chinese-Americans should change their names to something that's "easier for Americans to deal with."

Oh yes. Because no matter if we're naturalized citizens, tax payers, and basically, the backbone of your academic community, we'll never be "Americans" because of names like Xiao Chuan.

Where's my microphone and spotlight.

Other favorite moment? When Rep. Betty Brown asks if they need documentation "in China to participate in an election."

Hooray Communism!

For His Birthday...

2009-04-07T22:15:00.004-04:00

I might've gotten E a big pink singing gorilla telegram that arrived to his office in NYC. Just maybe. There's a possibility I used my incredible detective skills to phone up his coworker (read: complete stranger) and commission him as inside man for the job. Finally, Inside Man was kind enough to put the whole event on speaker phone while I sat in my office with the door closed, listening to the whole thing go down and cackling like an insane person.

In any event, this is pretty much the best thing I've ever done in my life, so I had to share. E's a little madface at me about it, but I couldn't resist!

I'm trying to find a way to embed video directly, but in the meantime, I'll leave you with this picture and your imagination.

Love you Ed! I mean it! You're never gonna meet anyone quite as ridiculous as me (who else would go through such lengths to make you laugh?!) so please don't be reallymadface.

Currently Listening: Vampire Weekend - "M79"

Sunday Mornings...

2009-04-05T09:47:00.000-04:00

Always inevitably end up with me attempting to make an omelet and not getting the egg to fold over perfectly and instead making a scrambled egg mess with chopped red peppers, tomatoes, and white American cheese. With sriracha sauce. We eat it anyway, cause really, it's the same thing - one's just whole and unbroken and the other's messy and diced.

It makes sense which one I can and cannot make.

Open windows and outlines. Simple times and ample sunlight.

Springtime.

I refuse to let April get the best of me like usual.

Currently Listening: Ernie Halter - My Heart is With You.

I Got This.

2009-03-25T23:13:00.004-04:00

All I'm saying is, today tried to take me down.

I refuse to let it happen.

Beautiful: Take me to Tokyo

2009-03-20T01:22:00.003-04:00

lost in a moment from dennis wheatley on Vimeo.

Pen: Watch this one. When're we making a movie together?

That Was Gross!

2009-03-14T18:52:00.003-04:00

Seriously. It was disgusting.

I hate you a little bit for making me go through with it.

Currently Listening: Aranda - "Whyyawannabringmedown" and "It Ain't Easy"

Mini-Update

2009-03-05T13:35:00.003-05:00

My "spring break" from law school ends today, and the past few days have been glorious. No, seriously, glorious. New things:

I went rock climbing for the first time last night. Despite my skepticism (and fear of heights), it was a great time. I may have finally found a sport (in addition to running) that suits my lanky, under-toned frame. Apparently, the useful application of the fact that I'm almost 90% limbs is being able to contort myself into positions like a gumby doll and scaling fake granite. Although we had to navigate all the way to Rockville, MD (seriously?) and wind through packs of shirtless douchemen humping pretend rock and slapping each other high-fives in their jeans, it was a fully successful (and surprisingly athletic) endeavor. Next on my list: Learning how to belay and trying out Great Falls.

I signed up for a kickball team! I just did. I figure it's blasphemous to live in the District and not do it for at least, ONE, summer. I'm sure it'll be hell on my liver. But, hey, at least I'll have a few good stories. Additionally, I'm on a "stop being a couch potato" kick, but does it really count if you drink back all the calories you burned off from chasing a rubber ball? Hm.
A third of my "quest to get a 6-pack" is complete. Doctor, you scoff. But shut up and stop hating on my goals.
I gave up TV (and all web-based TV watching: hulu.com and fancast.com) for Lent. YES, I'M BUDDHIST. But the nature of Lent (self-denial and learning to live in sacrifice) is a Buddhist overture anyway. PLUS, Buddhism has a lunar "Sabbath" period but I never know when it is (since it changes every year). So, I submit to the norm and give something up over Lent. So far, living sans TV hasn't been bad. I usually do the most watching when I'm chomping down my dinner, but I've started listening to Podcasts instead. My favorite: WNYC's Radio Lab. Science! Watered down enough for my adle-liberal arts brain to comprehend!
I'm kinda over my job lately. This isn't new, but it may be the first time I've said it outloud. It's scary because I'm not really sure what to do about that. Leave? Change? Times are hard, and I have dreams.
I'm hosting a Mary Kay party, and I'm way excited. That's not a joke.

Currently Listening: Nelly Furtado – "Do it"

Stomachaches, Sleeping Pills, and Sanctions.

2009-02-23T02:45:00.001-05:00

Can't sleep. Didn't watch the Oscars, but have a stomachache. Stomach flu? Bug's been going around the office, and I've been pretty wretched the past few hours. Wind's howling like a hound and it's making me jumpy.

In the meantime, Clinton's on her Asia tour. I wonder if Clinton's actually totally psyched she didn't land the Oval. Like, do you think she's at some Thai resort with her pantsuit heels up, laughing while watching Obama beg, plead, and shimmy-shuffle with Congress to jumpstart the economy? C'mon, I'll bet she does.

She blundered on China. Really, I think this was a blunder. It's especially disappointing, given Lady Clinton's early claim to fame was her 1995 speech in Beijing. She declared then: "It is time for us to say, and the world to hear, that it is no longer acceptable to discuss women's rights as separate from human rights"

That quote has always moved me. So, how disappointing, Lady Clinton, to hear you recant that human rights as a whole - not even just for the women! - are less important than dollar dollar bills. How would you like to raise funds this time around: human trafficking for illegal prostitution rings, or good old-fashioned sweatshops? Women are historically overrepresented in both.

Other Hand: Isn't Clinton just putting a facial statement to a pre-existing global attitude? Who's really surprised; President Clinton made his mind up on China back in 2000. Plus, we had the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. It brought millions of yuan in revenue to the Communist nation. Man, remember when Lady Clinton was running for President, and she urged Bush to boycott the Olympics due to their Human Rights record? But then, she totally got wasted and slept with them behind his back! Wow. Awwwkward ...

I'm more interested in what she's said about Burma. Ending economic sanctions would be huge. Again, the irony is not lost on me. President Clinton maintained some of the toughest American sanctions on Burma in recent history. But, academics have long since stated sanctions don't work as long as major nations like Thailand, India, and China continue doing business with Burma's military. The corrupt just get richer, and the poor just die.

I've never firmly believed sanctions alone could be effective. But, America (and by extension, Europe) reopening trade lines will not be enough. Democracy is not a "trickle-down" economic principle. And, because my cynicism is in high tide, I immediately suspect Clinton's veiled remarks mean America wants in on the "sweet deal" of exploiting Burma's natural resources at the bargain basement prices other Southeast Asian countries have enjoyed for the past decade without requiring any strong reforms. If that's the case it will be another sad day in Burma's troubled history. The U.N. Special Envoy has been useless. Aung San Suu Kyi is still under house arrest. Humanitarian aid never reached victims of Cyclone Nargis. The military massacred thousands of peaceful monks and suddenly everybody wants to start trading oil and lacquer bowls again.

Yippee.

Sure, ditch the sanctions in favor of a spine. Otherwise, I'm not interested.

Why Isn't it Summer Yet?

2009-02-15T12:05:00.005-05:00

Holy jebus, I am already dreading finals season in April.

The other day I was "talking" (I use the word loosely because what we were doing was g-chatting viciously off and on throughout the work day) with my cousin and she said the following:

AL: Ugh, she's just so ordinary.
ME: I like how you use ordinary as a derogatory term.
AL: IT IS!

I can just see it now: The weather'll be nice, and I'll be face down on my desk with flashcards, briefing books, and typed notes strewn across my desk trying to avoid that very label: Ordinary. Pushing up against it with limp, and frankly, slightly disinterested arms.

What if I fail?

And worse yet, what if I fail and ... just don't care?

Currently Listening: Anya Marina - "Move You"

What's In A Name?

2009-02-01T12:37:00.002-05:00

I no longer know who my friends are on facebook. Not just because it’s mushroom clouded into this awkward panic-inducing social networking parasite (oh my god, the Chief of Staff in that Senator’s office just friended me and I’ve got all those photo albums from the college D.Ball party!), but because the women in my social sphere are now of the age to have gotten married (hurray!) and changed their surnames.

It took me awhile to catch onto this trend. I cannot tell you the number of times I’ve been totally bewildered at the “Sally Studebaker wants to be your friend!” email, only to discover a few investigative clicks later that Sally Studebaker is actually Sally Montrell from my 10th grade cross-country team.

I long ago decided that I wouldn’t change my name upon getting married. In fact, I spent a significant part of freshman year arguing my middle school crush that giving my kids my surname wouldn’t result in epic fail. I was once faced with a man who argued that if his future wife didn’t take his name, he’d be mortally offended. We didn’t last very long.

This early resolution of mine has never been borne out of spite or contempt. If anything, it’s the resultant combination of egotism and laziness. Partially, I don’t plan on changing my name because I figure by the time I get married, I will have a blossoming and robust career centered around my own name. Secondly, I mean, it’s just easier to stick with the one I’ve got.

What I’ve never really understood is … well … the point. To me, the changing of your name – like so many things in life – seems auxiliary. If I’ve really found someone who I can love for the rest of my life and build a life with, then isn’t that all either of us should really need? I understand the inherent excitement over marriage: the ceremony, the dress, the registry, the rings, and for some – the sex. And believe me, when it comes my turn I will do my part and plan a day all about me and how beautiful I am.

But, in the midst of all this pomp and circumstance, why would changing my name symbolize (any more or any less) the modicum of “our new life”? And if it is indeed a new life for the both of us, then why do his business cards get to remain the same while I order a new set for “Sally Studebaker”?

Maybe this will all change when I meet the inevitable Love of My Life. And if it does then, well, bully on me. But either way, with my father’s last name or my husband’s, I’ll still be the girl I always was.

And FYI, I'm awesome.

I Kind of Love This Video

2009-01-29T00:32:00.002-05:00

Video on Stage of the Obama Inaugural Celebration

It's shot by JayZ15 and I especially like it because it shows celebs like Queen Latifah and John Legend get really nervous and excited to meet the President. I don't know why I like that, but it's nice to see. Also, in one fell swoop Obama gets called out by his wife, tells Beyonce he can dance like her Single Ladies video, references the SNL skit where Justin Timberlake dons the leotard, and then actually DANCES a bit. Amazing.

Res Ipsa Loquitur

2009-01-28T09:41:00.003-05:00

I have been avoiding this ...

But, it's time.

I've added a link on the lefthand side to Professor Jonathan Turley's (my current Torts professor) legal theory blog. I PROMISE it is not boring and sedated. He grabs some of the funnier (and more ridiculous) cases throughout the U.S. and discusses them with a legal theory tilt.

If you have some time, it's worth a daily browse.

Jon Turley's Res Ipsa Loquitur: "The Thing Speaks For Itself".

Where'd They Put All The Homeless?

2009-01-22T14:24:00.005-05:00

This weekend the District hosted the inauguration of America's first black president. It was a moment of intense historical significance, as one cab driver colorfully said to me, "You can only pop your political cherry once. The next black president? No one will care."

Riiight.

Despite the crude exclamation, it was a weekend/week of epic proportions, and besides, who doesn't get excited by the unexpected influx of celebs in their backyard. I could not stop checkin' out Politico's Shenan page (the original wonkette) for all the gossip. During an event at the St. Reg hotel I (literally) bummed into Alan Cummings, Forrest Whitaker, and Kate Walsh. Fun.

But, throughout the week, I couldn't help but wonder where the District stowed its homelessville population. My morning walk takes me past Farragut Square every morning; a park typically teeming with messengers toeing their bikes and homeless sprawled out on the remaining space. But this week? No longer. I'm sure "something was done" before we welcomed an influx of tourism and national press, but the question is: What? Did the District ...

A) Make them all bathroom attendants in the thousands of Porta-Potties set up along the mall?
B) Lock them down in a holding center in BMF Virginia?
C) Give them all commemorative "I was there!" buttons, hats, and tissue paper to sell randomly along street corners?
D) Dress them as cops to handle the Purple Tunnel of Doom?

Oh well.

Currently Listening: Lady GaGa - "Beautiful Dirty Rich" & Pussycat Dolls - "I Hate This Part"

Welcome to the White House

2009-01-20T20:33:00.002-05:00

UPDATE: How disappointing to discover that the musical interlude was completely pre-recorded!

Avenues and Alleyways

2009-01-04T13:25:00.004-05:00

On the subject of burning like a Kiki Kerouac Candle, I pounded through my last weekend of break in NYC with determined abandon. It was perfect! Largely due to my fantastic city hosts (thank you!), and my neurotic itinerary (no, seriously, I had one.) And now, I'm back home and procrastinating through blogging.

New Year's Eve was the party we've been trying to have for the last three years. I experienced what I only imagine Goldilocks felt upon discovering and eating that last perfect bowl of porridge. Renting out Woolworth Tower Kitchen and ringing in the new year with 150-170 of our closest friends never felt so good. The venue was great, and with just the right touch of crowded. (Read: You could still get to the bar.) At midnight, to my utter and complete astonishment, we each received an entire of champagne. What the hell are you supposed to do with an entire bottle of champagne to yourself? Do you have any idea how HEAVY that shit is to tote around for the whole night? I promptly took a (lady-like) swig and handed it over to the nearest dude. In hindsight, not such a good idea.

The following day was full of lazy sloucher recovery time (which, I had built into my itinerary - so don't fear, we were always completely on schedule). The girls and I ordered in and lazed about in sweats before taking in the Curious Case of Benjamin Button. A movie that I sobbed through and thought I liked until it was explained to me (vehemently over Penne a la Vodka) that it was just Forrest Gump v.2 and totally non-feminist. In hindsight, those things are pretty true. So. I take back the sobbing enjoyment I experienced in the movie theater. Damn you movie industry! You've fooled me again!

Also, can I mention for a brief moment that it was snowing in NYC this weekend? I don't know why I really enjoyed that, but I did. It hasn't snowed in DC at all and the little white dusting seemed like the perfect touch of holiday.

Friday was a PACKED day on the itinerary, so I wasted no time rousing and getting a move on. Using Ed's banker affiliation, we hit the MoMa for free and mingled through the absolute mess of holiday tourism. Despite having to throw elbows and shove through to the Information desk like it was a breadline in the Depression, we took in a full afternoon of culture. We rounded out the afternoon with a visit to Rockefeller center, the tree, the rink, and dinner at a quiet family-run Italian restaurant. It was winding up to be the truly perfect New York day as we sat down to play a little Rock Band. Ed seemed to sense my content, because while cutting through some duct tape, he decided to slice up his arm and I whisked him away to an NYC hospital emergency room for stitches. I can think of no better evening than one spent on hard plastic chairs while Ed spurts blood into some jerry-rigged bandage. But, like the champions we are, we got him stitched and cleaned up in time to meet everybody at Central bar for our East Village pub crawl.

Finally, we saw Spamalot on Broadway featuring ... wait for it .... CLAY AIKEN. Of American Idol fame doing a British accent and singing about Jews. I'm not kidding. It was hysterical. And so worth it.

In any event, it was the perfect weekend of new beginnings and old endings. Now, I must return to the drudgery of another semester spent working and schooling at the same time. But, at least I remember how to play hard and I've still got the friends to do it with. (Read: Humor me.) Escrapbook below (link to entire album follows all the pics).

From These City Lights

The Nature of Nostalgia

2008-12-25T02:45:00.006-05:00

"I'd rather sleep my whole life away than have someone keep me from dreaming." Lil Bro (and Lil Tobler!) and I are cracking up while we wait for "Santa". Really, we're just watching movies and being idle. I'm up in my room from home, with my knees drawn up against my chest and the laptop propped just so. The bookcase stares at me with high school and college yearbooks, photo albums, testmasters prep materials (f'in LSATs) and every volume of journalistic effort I've made since Age 10 of my life. (And yes, I keep them neatly lined up in chronological order. Beginning with the 'Babs Bunny' journal that requires a key to open...)

I realized the other day how anxiously I'd like to be at the start of something new - anything! It's not that I'm ready for anything in particular in my life to come to a culmination - my job, my school, my living situation, etc. Those things are all good, and that's fantastic. Except. I just want to be on the precipe of something. Anything. I want to stare into something with the giddy excitement of all the unknowns. A crush! A new city! A new store, even.

This room has my history tucked into and buried splashed all over the crevices. The bulletin board with the pictures of my high school boyfriend (now married), the list of colleges I applied to (now forgotten), the prom court sash (nope, still love that). It's just that - when do you get to really start over? Ever?

Oh fuck this navel-gazing.

Currently Listening: Sara Bareilles - Fairytale. (I'm really into music lately that uses the piano as it's primary instrument.)

Without Law School

2008-12-18T17:09:00.002-05:00

Food tastes sweeter. My beers go down smoother. And my whole heart sings. SINGS.

Without law school, I went to the Smithsonian American Art museum this past weekend. I examined the Frank Gohlke exhibit on landscape photography (mildly disappointing save for his large series prints on the Surrey River [?] in Massachusetts), and exclaimed at an Ansel Adams/Georgia O'Keefe exhibit (amazing). Without law school, I walked up and down the holiday market vendors with their twinkling lights, sat and listened to the bluegrass band singing sweetly on their small stage propped against the museum stairs, and ignored the homeless guy by the heat lamp looking at the band with un-focused un-smothered disinterest.

After that, we went to the sushi place in Gallery Place – the one with the conveyor belt right next to Haagen-Daas that I didn't really think would be that great (I really didn't) – and ate THE MOST ROCKIN' EXCELLENT SUSHI EVER. And on Sunday, I went grocery shopping. I made pork chops and cookies and jambalaya in that fantastic slow cooker Mom got me for Thanksgiving (because it's in the spirit of Pilgrims to give food-related presents on Thanksgiving) and plugged in all the Christmas lights my roomie and I put up (eventhough I'm Buddhist).

Without law school, I went shopping for my New Year's Eve Dress, bought my bus tickets (because NYE is better in NYC), and watched an entire movie from start to finish, no wait – TWO movies! Holiday Inn (Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby) and Guys & Dolls (Marlon Brando, YOUNG Marlon Brando) and applauded old movies for being … what's the word? CLASSIC. Instead of a bookbag, I've been hauling a gymbag to the office and sneaking into GW's gym to stare myself through a series of cardio workouts. (Is it weird that until a week ago I had NEVER been to a gym before? Nay, was frightened of gyms?)

This weekend, I plan on checking out the Hemphill Fine Arts gallery near Logan Circle (I'm a sucker for photography exhibits), and Sticky Rice for their tater tots and sushi (whaaaat? It's like someone made a restaurant from my dreambox.) I'll see Lil Bro and new Lil Tobler (the cat he adopted without telling any of us), and we'll go shopping for gifts that will inevitably be terrible because I give horrible presents. I will wrap them all in the same wrapping paper I used as last year, and then get drunk at some ridiculously bourgeois venue with martinis and heels.

Through it all, I will not for one second – not for half a second – think about contracts or parole evidence or why, seriously why, do all of my law books use the female pronoun when talking about clients. (Seriously, this is something that is weird because it's weirding me out. "Your client could be confused about the law, SHE might come ask you to file a claim – what next?" Why is the client always a she? Is the old boys network making women into helpless farthings again? Or me being over-sensitive?) I will not bend underneath the crushing weight of hauling my backpack to the office or feel the painful anxious-ridden burn of leaving work by 5 to make it to class on time. I won't consider the daunting truth that I haven't had a date in nearly a year – haven't even been excited by the idea of a date in nearly a year – or face the twenty-something existential crisis, What the Hell Am I Doing With My Life, that's looming around the January 1 corner.

Instead I will enjoy the city for what it's gone to offer, and burn like a character in a Jack Kerouac book. Without law school.

2008-12-08T21:40:00.005-05:00

I don't have time to respond to the NYMag's feature article right now, but I will. It's just begging to be controversial with it's headliner "Should Gender Equality Extend to Drinking?"

The answer is, of course, yes. Because, frankly, what shouldn't gender equality extend to? Seriously, is there something it shouldn't apply to? A loophole I didn't learn about in my [WORD REDACTED DUE TO BIG BROTHER SUPERVISION]college?

And secondly, because I'd kill to see an article about the drinking habits of my male counterparts. I mean, really. Women get scolded for mixing progressive feminism and martinis, while men are yet again pardoned for their excesses in the name of "boyhood". Ridiculous. Any twenty-something will tell you that belligerence is unattractive regardless of gender. Nothing kills a buzz faster than a friend who's been over-served.

So equalize that and get me a whiskey. Yes. Whiskey.

My Brain Feels Full

2008-12-03T21:58:00.002-05:00

Currently Listening: Justin Nozuka - "Be Back Soon"

Turkey Time Is My Favorite Time of Year

2008-11-30T21:21:00.013-05:00

This year, Lil Bro and I took upon ourselves the serious task of frying the Thanksgiving turkeys. A 10-year tradition, our usual Captain Turkey-Fryer Uncle was heading out of town, and the South in us refused to let a huge vat of oil go to waste.

So, after some frenzied online research (including this frightening firebomb-safety video) and some typical Bossy Kiki behavior [At one point, Lil Bro told me to "do less directing and more work," a line my mother gleefully repeated to all our guests throughout the night] - we succeeded in frying two turkeys without burning down the entire house. This is amazing, considering we put the turkey in our backyard between two huge trees and a garden of dry, dead, leaves. (I said we did the research, not that we abided by it...)

My brother and I were excited to have contributed 50% of this year's feast. Oh, didn't I mention we had a total of four turkeys? Gluttony, I love it.

My absolute favorite part of T'giving (and the fried turkey tradition) is the moment when we begin carving into, ahem, the four turkeys. All of us flock around the island in the middle of my kitchen picking at the charred crisp skin and nimbly darting the electric carver to yank the soaked, juicy, Creole-seasoned pieces of meat as they fall away from the bone into our waiting mouths. Mmm. So good. It's better than the moment when you actually sit down to eat at the table. (We're a bunch of primitive heathens, what can I say.)

Sigh. It always comes and goes too quickly. Oh well, on to more boring holidays like Christmas.

Currently Listening: Madcon - Beggin'.
Of Note: After discovering how to use GarageBand on the Mac to splice songs and create your own ringtones, this song by Madcon is currently mine.

If Only.

2008-11-25T23:43:00.000-05:00

CRISIS IN BURMA from Scott Denton on Vimeo.

Fighting Against Mediocrity

2008-11-22T16:58:00.008-05:00

Recently, I've come to a conclusion: Unexceptional women are unacceptable.

Fine, I'm a snob. I'm a huge jerky snob, and who do I think I am because I have horrible taste in home furnishings, and eat like a linebacker when nobody's looking, and I don't know how to dress myself in designer clothes, so where do I come off asserting what is and isn't exceptional or acceptable.

I know! I know, and I can't help it. VeeBee and I came to this judgmental catchphrase together and - gulp - it perfectly articulates how we deal with other women. Allow me to explain.

Awhile ago (before the exulted establishment of Obama as our King of Freedom), Judith Warner penned No Ordinary Woman, an oped in the NYTimes that confused me, and I've been struggling with it ever since. Warner quoted Bella Abzug's 1977 line that: "Our struggle today is not to have a female Einstein get appointed as an assistant professor. It is for a woman schlemiel to get as quickly promoted as a male schlemiel."

Warner then goes on to explore the notion that Palin's vice-presidency run is the "watershed event for women this year." Feminism has been truly realized when mediocre women ascend to the ranks of their high-powered mediocre male counterparts. Women have arrived when power is no longer a luxury of the over-achievers, but a right of the plurality.

After weeks of considering this, I can really only articulate one thing: Oh, bah.

While I recognize the abstract correctness of what Bella (and Warner) are trying to imply, I'm not signing my name on that femme dotted line. Why should mediocrity become the exalted and hailed norm - in women or men? There are only so many positions of power, and yes, men of average AND exceptional merit sit in the majority of them. If women want'em, they'll have to knock a few men off the ledge.

But, I'd rather drop the lesser performers from the bottom of the curve and create a higher social norm than merely sub in female idiots for male idiots. What's the point of a nominal declaration of equality? That's not progress, that's laziness.

And so, criticisms of snobbery aside, I repeat: Unexceptional women are unacceptable.

Currently Listening:
Meiko - "Said and Done"
Brendan James - "The Other Side"
Seal - "I've Been Loving You Too Long" & "Change Is Gonna Come" (Off his recently released 'Soul' album. It's perfect autumn/holiday music.)

Smart-Ass or a Stupid Jerk?

2008-10-28T20:27:00.003-04:00

This just happened in class... and I raised my hand to provide this answer. RAISED IT. Meaning: I thought it was honestly worth sharing with everyone.

PROF: So when would a letter to a client not be appropriate? Anyone? When would a written letter not be the best course of action? Yes, Kiki*?
ME: If they were blind. They can't read a letter.

[long pause.]

PROF: Uhhh, yes. But, I meant not appropriate specific to a legal issue... Mike?
MIKE: If a letter wasn't legally timely. Like, if your client was going to trial within the next few days.
PROF: Exactly right. Good lawyering means ....

Like. I honestly thought that was the right answer. Who the hell am I.

*names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Lost You Just the Same.

2008-10-25T01:05:00.004-04:00

I'm finally home for the night, and this feels fantastic. I've never loved the scent of wool blankets, apple cider, and rain, as much as I did when I walked in this evening. After kicking off my wet shoes, I put on my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and plugged in my phone to recharge. And now, I've sat myself down at my desk, and had a good cry.

I don't pretend to understand most things. But, most of all, I will never claim insight into why life is so wretchedly unjust. I have a tough time confronting why good people suffer. Which, doesn't make any sense because Buddhism taught me from the start that all life is suffering. It's one of the Four Noble Truths, and I accept it for my own life.

But, let's be honest, my suffering is mild in comparison to the world weight of pain. It's the con queso salsa of the world's tabasco. And why should others tremble so immensely? While I stress about a memo and a paper and my GPA and my salary. I hate this disparity more viscerally than most things. But at whose feet do I lay my questions? My insistent and growing confusion? God? In the past few weeks, I've watched someone confront their demons with weeping sincerity. But, what for? There's been such intense self-destruction swirling through their veins, and I've watched with interspersed anger and fear. Mounting powerlessness choked me into standing with idle hands.

We all tried, I think, to the best of our ability. But, people are left to fight their own battles. Life is as independent as it is cruel. And maybe I'm upset that I couldn't do more to help.

For now, at least: Safe journey.

Currently Listening: Ray LaMontagne - Jolene.

My Favorite Georgia O'Keefe Painting.

2008-10-19T18:34:00.003-04:00

Happy Autumn!
It's been a terrific October weekend.

Currently Listening: Adele - "Hometown Glory" // The Noisettes - "Don't Give Up"

Jay's Perfect Love Story at Sunset

2008-10-18T20:02:00.007-04:00

"The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender; because this kiss already has within it that surrender.”
Emil Ludwig

From Jennie's Wedding

Currently Listening: Sebastian Grainger - "Who Do We Care For" // Kanye West - "Love Lockdown"

"I Miss You Too!"

2008-10-13T23:19:00.003-04:00

Last night, I stumbled upon a high school reunion of my own making after trekking over to Black Cat (a venue, I've decided, I enjoy more than 9:30 club) to see Ra Ra Riot. I'd forgotten that the band is currently managed by an old high school classmate, and as I stumbled in I excitedly caught sight of my old compatriots leaning against the wall. Needless to say I was a total girl: I squealed, ran over, and dizzily embraced all of them in repeated hugs, leaving Zevy standing in my figurative dust wondering where I'd disappeared to. Ohmaygawd! Ohmaygawd, how ARUR you?! Hug hug hug.

We all quickly caught up by talking about everyone we knew who'd recently gotten married, bonus points if there were children. Gasping looks of horror were exchanged. No! She got married? When? Holy shit, did you go? After we'd maxed out our gossip, we finally talked about ourselves by screaming five-minute abridged histories to each other inbetween sets. (The Morning Benders, by the way, opened for Ra Ra Riot and were infectiously fun. I'm convinced the lead singer is 13, but he's a gorgeous Hapa kid.)

Since we'd all adequately caught up, we spent the rest of the night enjoying ourselves. Post-show, we continued chatting as they swept up the floor until Manager High School friend finally emerged from back stage. More hugs! We all marveled at the weirdness of his success (you're performing on Letterman the next night?!) before we finally all parted off into the pairs we'd arrived in. We re-made promises to do this all again, to keep in touch, and blah blah blah.

The thing is, the older I get, the more I realize that the best people I know are the ones I've had forever. It makes me disappointed at the inevitable drifting that has taken place between all of us. Typically, when faced with the potential loss of a friendship due to disinterest, awkwardness, or animosity, I have always dogged through. I bully my way into the friendships I want, and I've always persisted when my gut told me to.

But lately, I'm wondering if friendships should require that amount of strained effort - and if they do, are they really worth it? I'm reaching the limit on the number of people I can bend to my will, and frankly, I'm hitting an exhaustion level. I'd like to roll with the Dr's breezy definition that the best friends are the ones who require nothing from you. There should be no standing on pretense; even if we haven't spoken in months if I stumble across a song you'd like - I should send it to you because I was reminded of you.

But try as I might, I can't put it into practice. Why am I so aggressive? So willing to expend energy (my most valuable resource!) in the name of pursuing, withstanding, and maintaining the intangible?

At the end of the day, I miss the people who have quietly exited my life. And I know that I'll probably always miss them. It'd upset me too much if I went down without a fight. I know, its stupid and schmoopy, but it seems to me that the quantity of good people (moreover, good people you get along with) are so few and far between they should be maintained no matter the cost.

Friendship can be a commitment as serious as any other kind of relationship, and maybe more so given the fleeting nature of dating. During The Year Where All We Did Is Fight, Jags and I miserably came to the end of one of our most vicious altercations.

Me: "I just don't want you to stop speaking to me forever."
Jags: "Kobes, I think it's pretty clear that I'll never stop speaking to you. I'd rather fight with you than ignore you."

And oddly, that's what I think friendship and intimacy is all about.

Currently Listening: Dizzy Balloon - What Can I Do?

Further Evidence of GMail's Brilliance

2008-10-07T10:53:00.004-04:00

THIS. IS. AMAZING. Al just sent me an entry from Gmail's blog entitled "Stop sending mail you later regret". In the age of berries, iPhones, and the like, the drunk dial has evolved into the drunk email. With this new lil macro, Gmail's looking to be the best-friend that snatches your phone from you and refuses to give it back for the rest of the night.

It's amazing. The feature requires you to solve a few simple math problems before clicking "send" on that fated email to your ex, high-school crush, or current fling. Without directly referencing the drinking, GMail engineer writes: "By default, Mail Goggles is only active late night on the weekend as that is the time you're most likely to need it. Once enabled, you can adjust when it's active in the General settings."

I need this on my phone, STAT.

Boogie Man: The Lee Atwater Story

2008-10-05T18:03:00.004-04:00

Zevy and I went down to the E. Street Theatre (who can believe he's never been before!) to check out this documentary on Lee Atwater. It was great. Not terrific, but definitely worth seeing. The first half has the rambley feel of a student studio project. However, Forbes (director) outfits the movie with a fantastic blues-driven soundtrack and gets some high profile people on the screen, including Mike Dukakis, Terry McAuliffe, and Tucker Eskew. Using their voices works to the film's advantage, and avoids the heavy-handed narration prone to other political documentarians (Michael Moore?)

Plus, who can resist a movie theater that sells beer.

Either way, Boogie Man was a fairly riveting film, especially for anyone interested in the looming November elections.

I'll pimp the trailer just for that purpose.

UPDATE [10.9.08]: I am effin' psychic. Maureen Dowd (the columnist I loved in college, hated during the primaries, and now love again) wrote this Op-Ed about how current politics are just old Lee Atwater politics. Maybe she just saw the movie this weekend too...

I Totally Cried Like a Sap

2008-09-29T00:13:00.010-04:00

There is something incredibly surreal about watching the first girlfriend out of your childhood group get married right in front of your eyes. Who can believe the Bombshells have grown (are growing) up so fast!! It seems like just last week we went to prom together, named ourselves after our favorite yogurt shop (true story), and applied to college.

As the flower girls raced up and down through the legs of strangers, I felt myself more in tune with their explosive pent-up energy than the quiet joy radiating from our newlyweds. I have so much I want to explore. But, looking at S&J, I can't help but hope that whenever I'm through running around in circles, I'll have a love like theirs waiting at my finish line.

Huge congrats to our first Bombshell Husband. You have no idea what you're in for.

Currently Listening: Kings of Convenience - "Misread" and "Gold in the Air of Summer"

We Think You're a Joke

2008-09-25T00:26:00.003-04:00

So, shove your hope where it don't shine.

Watching Bush talk about the financial (not economic) crisis is like watching a 6th grade boy make a presentation at the science fair on one of those obnoxious tri-fold boards.

Everyone knows his parents built that damn volcano. Everyone.

Currently Listening: Santogold ft Spank Rock, "Shove It".
This song is awesome.

Culinary Cheer-Up

2008-09-17T09:39:00.005-04:00

I woke up dreadfully drained this morning. In addition to staying up late and working blearily to complete case briefs, under the instruction of my "heart doctor," I have started an early morning running campaign that involves something akin to the New Balance Love/Hate ads.

And then, when I got off the metro, I found myself confronted with not one, but TWO mournful saxophone players. One at the Farragut West metro and another at the Farragut North. The lilting of the notes made me unnervingly depressed and I walked into the building ready to go home already.

After settling in and scarfing down a breakfast of Black Cherry Stonyfield Yogurt, my co-worker turns the corner into my office with her hands behind her back.

"I have a present for you!"

I am immediately suspicious.

"Really...?"

WOOSH, she presents me with not one, but TWO "starter cookbooks" to help ease my transition for college grad to working woman. I'm so excited!!

Like a kid on Christmas, I pop out of my seat and hug her. Then, I promptly yell across the hall to Bobby: "Look! Look at the cookbooks Jay brought me!"
Bobby looks up momentarily from his computer: "Oh! I have that one, but ... I think you need one with pictures."

Momentarily deflated, I flip through the pages: "It has pictures!"
Bobby: "Well, that's good"

I am now making it my goal to try and cook through one entire cookbook. Check back for pictures, descriptions, and the hilarity that's sure to arise.

Palin + Hillary = Crazy Delicious.

2008-09-14T09:42:00.001-04:00

Remember When She Was On 20/20?

2008-09-13T09:55:00.001-04:00

I love it. Palin's going to change "all of Warsh-ington."

Remember These?

2008-09-08T21:59:00.014-04:00

I've been in a terrific mood all day, despite the usual Monday blues. I made myself a delicious pesto linguine pasta with broccoli and chicken for lunch tomorrow, and now I'm sitting with my feet up and avoiding reading! Surprise!

Since I don't have pics yet from our Storm Chasers Bachelorette Party Extravaganza (aka the "Fuck You Hurricane Hannah" Weekend), I'm opting for some oldies (but goodies).

Stace: I am so happy for you and John, that I figure there's no better way to fully express my joy than posting lots of silly pictures on the internet.

Afterall, nothing says happiness like inducing laughter in the people around you.

So now, a photographic exploration of Bombshell History.

Currently Listening/Obsessed With: Rilo Kiley - I Never.

Studying (and procrastination) Ain't Cute

2008-09-05T01:47:00.001-04:00

Currently Listening - Gym Class Heroes - "Peace Sign"

This Election Makes Me Want to Rip Out My Hair.

2008-09-04T22:56:00.005-04:00

See the full editorial by Judith Warner here: The Mirrored Ceiling.

It turns out there was something more nauseating than the nomination of Sarah Palin as John McCain’s running mate this past week. It was the tone of the acclaim that followed her acceptance speech.

...Thus began the official public launch of our country’s now most-prominent female politician. The condescension – damning with faint praise – was reminiscent of the more overt misogyny of Samuel Johnson.

“A woman’s preaching is like a dog’s walking on his hinder legs,” the wit once observed. “It is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at all.”

Palin sounded, at times, like she was speaking a foreign language as she gave voice to the beautifully crafted words that had been prepared for her on Wednesday night.

But that wasn’t held against her. Thanks to the level of general esteem that greeted her ascent to the podium, it seems we’ve all got to celebrate the fact that America’s Hottest Governor (Princess of the Fur Rendezvous 1983, Miss Wasilla 1984) could speak at all.

Could there be a more thoroughgoing humiliation for America’s women?

Why does this woman – who to some of us seems as fake as they can come, with her delicate infant son hauled out night after night under the klieg lights and her pregnant teenage daughter shamelessly instrumentalized for political purposes — deserve, to a unique extent among political women, to rank as so “real”?

... I think, they find her acceptably “real,” because Palin’s not intimidating, and makes it clear that she’s subordinate to a great man.

That’s the worst thing a woman can be in this world, isn’t it? Intimidating, which appears to be synonymous with competent. It’s the kiss of death, personally and politically.

But shouldn’t a woman who is prepared to be commander in chief be intimidating? Because of the intelligence, experience, talent and drive that got her there? If she isn’t, at least on some level, off-putting, if her presence inspires national commentary on breast-pumping and babysitting rather than health care reform and social security, then something is seriously wrong. If she doesn’t elicit at least some degree of awe, then something is missing.

Sigh. Oh. Sigh.

Currently Listening: The Cab - "One of Those Nights"

I Told You: Sexism Never Dies

2008-09-02T13:48:00.005-04:00

Oh, look at the article the NYTimes is running today: A New Twist in the Long-Running Debate on Mothers. Now, I'm as offended by Palin's self-proclaimed association with Hillary Clinton as the next woman, however, I don't think this article is fair.

In total honesty, this article irks me. It's another example (in my mind) of the quiet and subtle sexism which takes over when there's a female candidate. All of the men in the presidential race have children. In fact, Senator Biden was a single dad, talk about overly committed. Granted, none of menfolk have a whole frickin' herd to bring on stage, but have you ever seen an article assessing whether they should be running solely based on their filial responsibility?

No. You haven't.

Why's that?

Welll ... because they have wives.

Hmmm, so?

And also one of Palin's kids has Down Syndrome! Who's going to care for that little guy?

Dunno. Who would it have been if Mr. Palin was running for office?

Uhhh...

Annoyed. That's what I am right now. Annoyed face.

Newest Neurosis

2008-09-02T00:59:00.005-04:00

About two weeks ago I became convinced that I had heart disease. This is not totally outside the realm of possibility, you see. As I wrote in my Why Law School Essay, heart disease and high blood pressure have a habit in my family. In the mornings leading up to my miraculous (and highly educated ) self-diagnosis, I'd feel a strange and heavy weight on my chest (RIGHT WHERE MY HEART IS). By the time I was halfway through the workday, I'd compulsively make a coworker take my pulse while I counted out a minute. Doesn't that seem fast to you?? What's a normal heartrate? Uhm, let's google it.

Because I am lucky, gifted, and really, just a very special person, I convinced my parents it was absolutely crucial that I have a stress test. For anyone that's unfamiliar, a stress test is that cardiac test they give to 60 year old men who actually have heart disease. They gadget about eight thousand different electrodes to your chest that monitor various aspects of heart rate and blood flow. They wire you up and watch your heart as you rest, stand, sit, and then run on a treadmill, all to ensure your heart is functioning properly at every level of exertion.

So, after swearing off fatty foods (really!) and bargaining with my heart to, really, just do me this favor and not hate me (or my arteries), I was taken to a well-known cardiologist in Virginia for my stress test. To his amazing and full credit, the man opened his office on a Saturday for the private screening of my crazy, and didn't laugh at me once during my examination. (Unlike my dearly beloved parents who roared with mirth at me when I discovered I had to have MY BLOOD DRAWN FOR A STRESS TEST. I absolutely hate having blood drawn.)

But, I'm over it. The ole ticker and I were given a clean (albeit, exercise-recommended) bill of health and I'm back to french fries and gluttony. Yet, today, after tooling around in my lil Baby Tegra all day I'm NOW convinced that the car is emitting noxious fumes within its four doors. Whenever I get into that car, a funny taste of steel creeps up below my tongue that stays with me hours after I've vacated. I feel light headed and woozy. Today, my roomie and I went to the movies and before she got in I said: "take a big gulp of air once we're in the car and tell me what you smell."

She said nothing.

But it can't be! I'm breathing in poison air! What is it?! Am I breathing the fumes of evaporated gas? Does that mean I'm driving while I'm high?? How can I test something like this? Do they make pH paper for the air?

Let me tell you something, it's never boring to be in my head. Never.

Back to case briefs!

Today's Word (Brought to you by: BLD)

2008-08-30T22:08:00.003-04:00

I have no idea how long this "bit" will run, but it seems like a good idea right now.

So, I'm sitting innocently at my desk and reading my Civ Pro book when I come across the 9th word that's stumped me in the last hour. I reach across the desk for my new Black's Law Dictionary. Thumbing through it, I stumble across this charming little morsel of academic gold:

CARNAL KNOWLEDGE: Sexual intercourse, esp. with an underage female.

CARRIER. 1. An individual or organization...

That's funny, right? I can't tell if it's actually funny, or if I'm just so devoid of life right now I'm losing my mind.