Quiddity

Desperately seeking.....something

2011-07-01T12:39:00.000-07:00

Serenity
These days I find myself (in addition to the usual mantra of "just get to the weekend") repeating the "Serenity Prayer" in my daily life, asking for the ability to accept the things I can't change, the gumption to change the things I can and the wisdom....something something.

There seems to be an awful lot these days that falls in the first category: things I cannot change. Working in the public sector offers many examples...

But perhaps I am too quick accept such things as immutable, immovable. Surely, I am too young to be wise; this is my time for tilting at windmills.

So, no more serenity and the security of supposing oneself wiser - I need change.

Thoughts on Threshing and Sowing

2010-04-12T09:47:00.000-07:00

For the past several years there has been a point of contention (and, I will admit, on my part some deliberate prodding/provoking) between my mother and me: Catholicism. I expect that now it can no longer be a point of disagreement and debate but rather a painful line of division.

Salinger once wrote "Catholics are always trying to find out if you are Catholic." I have to give him props for that observation. To be Catholic is, as my father explained, like being Jewish: It is not a question of practicing but of cultural definition. We are Catholic because we have been called so - excluded and oppressed since "The Flight of the Earls," through the Troubles - (and key to the success of Tammany Hall). To abandon that identity - a sacrliege, not because of any question of Transubstantiation v. Consubstantiation, election or good works, but because it is a denial of self-history: what went before you, what made you. Understood thus it is an act of self-mutilation.

But there are times you have to pass the scalpel.

Now, if I was a Protestant (and thus better versed in Scripture over Saints) I would quote something about Threshing and Sowing or plucking out thy left eye if it offend thee.

Well, I am offended. And the Church's defensive and aggressive response to its malfeasance concerning the abuse of its most vulnerable members is the last straw. Last week a letter from then Cardinal Ratzinger resisting the explusion of a priest repeatedly accused of molesting children in his charge surfaced. In this letter the Cardinal, in elegant Latin while acknowledging the "grave significance" of the charges filed, asserts that it is "necessary to consider the good of the Universal Church together with that of the petitioner, and it is also unable to make light of the detriment that [such action]...can provoke." He closes his letter referencing once again "the common good" which must always be in mind.

This is where his future Holiness was wrong: it is not a question of cost or benefit analysis. Christianity is not a formula, or, despite Jesus's ability to make a little bit go a long way, a multiplying of loaves and fishes - the greatest good for the greatest number. Christianity is a practice of faith. Faith that what we do matters - that there is a right and a wrong - and that we always have a decision between the two.

The Church's focus on caution in confronting controversy and the pre-emminence of the preservation of the "common good" over the protection of the least of that common's members may be many things: reasoned, calculated, cautious, but I cannot think it Christian.

Sanity Check

2010-02-05T08:01:00.000-08:00

For the most part I'm really enjoying grown-up lawyerly employment. This week I had my first hearing (I think it went well. The clerk gave me a thumbs up at its close). Thanks to NPR the commute isn't too bad. And there's that warm fuzzy feeling that the security of state employment gives you.

So, yes, I like the daily grind. I feel justified in gulping down the espresso in the morning (equal parts coffee to sugar)and I rather like the power suits and skirts.

Aside from the power suits and heels though, part of being an adult is accepting responsibility for one's actions. I want to take the opportunity to do that here...
I am a celebrity gossip addict.
I'll give you a moment to digest that.
Having joined the world of cubicles and accordian case folders I have slowly but surely gotten addicted to more than caffeine (see above esspresso recipe). My morning in the office starts with a read through of the various gossip blogs (The Hollywood Gossip, E! online, TMZ...)Aside from the tic of just having to check to see the lated I have also noticed that it has started to affect me. Namely, I have started to really feel depressed about the state of the world and the average sanity quotient/stability of its inhabitents.

So now I spend my day reviewing (primarily) cases concerning the provision of mental health services for Medicaid recipients in Our Great State - interupted with the odd break to catch up on the latest news on Tila Tequila's tweets, Tiger Woods rehabilitation (and expectations of recidivism), and recent leaks of racy photos of various Bachelor contestants. At the end of the day (or perhaps more accurate estimation would be 11:00 am?) I have serious reservations re: the contination of the human race and reason.

I need help.

There, first step, recognizing that I have a problem and seeking assistance in its redress.

Step two: having faith that the world isn't as f*#king crazy as reported, latest in.

America, Inc. (or, Money Talks)

2010-01-21T15:25:00.000-08:00

NPR featured an extraordinary investigative report this evening that I had to share with you: "Bail Burden Keeps U.S. Jails Stuffed with Inmates." - an example of public policy where no one wins other than the private bail bondsmen market and the public officials recieving their financial and political support...

Another winner today: corporate America. In 5-4 decision the Supreme Court overturned existing limitations on corporate spending during elections: an example of the legal fiction of a corporation as a "person" gone too far.

Lessons I'm taking from today? I'll refer back to the old masters: Sunlight is the best disenfectant and, obscenity (whether it is public corruption or pornography) - you know it when you see it.

"Publicity is justly commended as a remedy for social and industrial diseases. Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants; electric light the most efficient policeman." - Justice L. Brandeis, Other People's Money, 1933

Let's shine a bit more light - from our prisons to our power players.

In further news on Resolutions...

2010-01-15T07:44:00.000-08:00

I am mentally filing my gym membership fees as charitable donations to my local YMCA. It has been a long time since I have been on the eliptical.

Suffering Sugar Shock

2010-01-08T08:17:00.000-08:00

Ugh, the sychranine sweetness and gooey sentimentalism of my last post makes me feel a little nauseus in re-reading - or that could be the cherry pie I had for breakfast. Whatever, New Years Resolution the first: cut down on the glucose, in both the daily bread and prose writing.
More resolutions (unlikely to ever be resolved!) to follow.

Out with the Old, In with the New

2009-12-31T08:00:00.000-08:00

December 31st is, necessarily, a time for reflection. Back in May, following denial of medical waiver for the JAG Corps, many people comforted me with saying that it was "all of the best." Or, more specifically, that I would one day look back and be grateful for this disappointment. I didn't expect that gratitude to be realized quite so soon, though. This is not to say that I am where I want to be, doing what I want to do. Not at all - that is all very much still a 'work in progress,' but I do feel excited, at least for today, by the possibilities.

2009, it's been a good year. One of the things that has made it so has been knowing M. That never would have happened without the JAG corps - so, however that goes I am grateful for that!

I suppose the purpose of this entry is just as an expression of gratitude. 2009 has been difficult, anxiety-ridden and insecure in many ways. But when I look back on it what I remember are the acts of courage and faith by the ones I love and a large handful of perfect moments with one I grew to love. I can't complain!

So, thanks 2009 and welcome 2010!

- Anna

Return

2009-10-28T10:22:00.000-07:00

Last month I received two wonderful (and wonderfully unexpected) compliments from two friends I hadn’t seen in a long time: both followed my blog. By which I mean that they follow it whenever there is anything to follow.
It was exhilarating to hear that someone read and enjoyed my words – it is also a little intimidating. I’ve been intimidated (think Sophia sizing herself up to Jayne as in the above picture) and thus foregone posting on several important topics: (1) profound reflections on the first world war and human nature and (2) assessment of the best breasts in Hollywood history (I would call the award “The C-Cups”!).

But I am back! Despite the provocative post on the C-Cups you haven't missed much. I've been conducting document review for a local law firm (which I really like, the firm, not the doc review) and volunteering at the state's Attorney General's office. Things continue to go well with M. ("the Man"). Shortly after my last post he came to visit. Three months and several phone bills later I am set to return the favor: last week I got a ticket to Florence - birthplace of soccer and home to acclaimed sculptures of nude biblical figures.

I am, of course, excited. My work can be done remotely so I can stay longer (20 days, grudgingly returning for Thanksgiving and family harmony). I am also a little nervous, but mostly impatient. I leave in exactly a week and this week is interminnable; patience is not my virtue. In fact, I can't think about it too much (see theory of the watched pot, black holes and the space/time continuum) - so for last few days have tried to distract myself with investigating a few C cups of my own. Which leads me to my next question: for a society that uses sex to sell everything from toaster ovens to baby shampoo, why is there such a gap in the sex/lingerie market and why doesn't Nordstrom carry garter belts?

Pazzo, Cazzo and just screwed

2009-07-04T14:13:00.000-07:00

I am not romantic - I don't trust such impulses. I seek rationality and the pretense of permanence and control. Therefore, I don't know how to introduce this topic, I'll just say I am screwed.

The backstory: Back in February I took an alumni lecture series on beginner's Italian. The idea being self-improvement and maybe the chance to improve my chances of an assignment to Italy/Europe when entering the JAG corps in July (I was denied the waiver by the way, but more on that later...). The class was composed of me, 7 other alumni over the age where power of attorney is a practical concern, and the instructor, M., an attractive doctoral student at the university. Call it circumstance (I had to look good compared to the over 60s, no?) call it fate (I did have a premonition that this was going to be trouble when I first entered the class) about a month after classes ended the instructor and I started dating. Stated thus it sounds so orchestrated and cold (student dating teacher) - but (as everyone says) it wasn't like that. He was sweet, attentive and assuring and I was (as I usually am) alternatively awkward and forward. He left in May. We talked of my visiting him in Italy (he is taking a year off to write his thesis in Italy before returning to complete doctorate the following year). Things got crazy with JAG and the denial of the waiver process. When the debris cleared from that disappointment I said "what the hell" and bought a ticket to Italy.

I returned last night (this morning?). And am now sprawled in pjs on the couch listening to love songs and eating home-made frosting - something I haven't really done since I was 14 and in love every other weekend (the sentimental love songs bit, not the frosting, that is a pretty regular occurence, actually!).** I am tired and dazed and I count this as a good thing - my feelings are thus a little muted and removed.

To explain: Our issue here is that I am not "done" yet. That I need to set myself up first before I lean on anyone (else!- I know I have a lot of buttresses in all of you!). I am painfully aware that my hesitancy may be an awful mistake. And I know that the uncertainty created by this period of transition creates pain for him as well. All this and missing him leads me to the following...

I came across one song (this all initially started as an innocent, proactive effort to update my I-Pod so I could go running and work off the afore-mentioned binging) that I have played over and over and over again. It is by Charles Aznavour: "She." Excepting the fact that this song features a man singing about a woman it really resonates with me. Mostly because this is my first love; as the song intimates, that stays with you and shapes you. Secondly, because, although I am not his first love, it reassures me that he will also carry me with him. There are several lines that are particulary powerful. I am going to be a bore and post them here:

She
May be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
.....
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
......
She may be the love that can and hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I remember till the day I die.

Why this song and not some other (because, believe me, I have listened to a few in my masochistic moping) - because it is wistful, wanting and wise. And it articulates and assures me of my belief that love is never wasted. That even if I fuck this up (as is my wont in any first endeavor in any area) or if it is not meant to last, or even given, perhaps our (as in mankind generally) limitations in our ability to see and understand each other (that love is always based on some measure of illusion) that there it is still love - it is still powerful, purposeful and permanent.

** Note: Not saying I haven't been silly over guys in the interim dozen years - that would be a patent falsehood - just haven't mooned over sentimental serinades.

*** Note: I have included a link to Charles Aznavour's performance of "She" for your edification and entertainment.

The Literary Offenses of Harold S. Pinter

2009-02-23T11:07:00.000-08:00

Hello, all! It is Monday - and I am always full of pep and vigour on a Monday (or at least a Monday in my current world where I don't have to earn the daily bread). After a weekend at home with my family I am more than usually inspired to go out and get 'em. This means a return to serious thought and actual action on the "what will I do with the rest of my life" front. To this end I have volunteered legal aid with my local Women's Center and have an interview tomorrow for a research assistant position on an upcoming international law/intellectual property treatise. Oh! And I started taking lessons in Italian. That should make the JAG waiting process that much less gruesome...

Speaking of career calls, last week, after watching Breakfast at Tiffany's for the third time (my sister is on an Audrey Hepburn rush at present) I thought, hmmm, let me take a line from our friend Paul (you'll know him as Fred, baby). Maybe I should try to write. I spent the following afternoon staring blankly at my (even blanker) computer screen and randomly wikipedia-ing. When I decided to try and clean up my inbox I came across some stories I wrote a few years ago. I include one rant below:

...... .......

This is how it is: I’ve never understood the dialogue in short fiction: the language so wistful, bitter, and truncated. The characters never saying what they mean, instead staring off into space, noting a fly on a wall and reflecting about life, or a leaf falling from a tree and thinking about death, and all the while really only concerned about sex. It is all about sex, but no sex that I have ever known - sex like an incomplete poem or an impressionist painting. The artist purposefully removed – because it is not something that you can examine too closely, the more you concentrate on one aspect the more it changes.

That is what irritates me so much about these short stories. The room is cold – it hasn’t been this cold for a while. Autumn is ending. That means that the lovers must part. Why didn’t he just say as much? Pinter’s dialogue is supposed to reflect actual speech and actual speakers. But people don’t talk like that. We don’t say too little – we say too much. We go on and on and on about nothing – and somewhere bobbing to the surface in this endless stream of self-absorbed reflection there are little nuggets of reflection and revelation. Our speech is all expository – and eventually, circuitously, it exposes us. So let us have done with this restraint and vague reflections. “I’ve never had a whore under this roof. Since your mother died.” We don’t speak so purposefully or cleverly.
Then let us say it as it is. The sky is blue. Sometimes the sun, when it sets, is red and violent and the smell of green and new born things is so beautiful it hurts.

SWF seeking advice/insight/prayers/happy thoughts

2009-01-21T10:26:00.000-08:00

Inaugurations are like weddings: I always get choked up. Yesterday was no exception.

Moving on from the best of times to the worst of times...Yesterday was divided between my TV (inauguration) and my computer where I was trying to get any information on the Army's evaluation process and the availability of medical waivers. It is very possible that I may be medically disqualified due to my medical history. I mention this now just as a brief update and as a request to keep me and my application in your thoughts!

Continuing in the tradition of giving unsolicited advice on topics I know nothing about...

2009-01-15T13:04:00.001-08:00

When I was younger my family and I would take long trips during the summer: Driving through Labrador Canada, train rides through Alaska, chugging up the Hudson....These adventures were all wonderful and magical...but there was always a part of them that was not. To be frank, there is always a portion that is downright miserable; when you are cold, wet, grumpy and want nothing more than to be home. (See, e.g.: blowing a tire out on a dirt road up in Labrador - miles from civilization; having to be rescued from the coast guard when my grandfather's engine burst into flames off of Point Judith; that unfortunate miscalculation of train times outside Seward, Alaska; and after any stretch of time stuffed in a back seat with my brothers). Despite this, these are usually the memories my family and I enjoy recalling the most. Get us around the table and we will exchange reminisces of when we were most cold and miserable with unseemly relish. Memory is a funny thing. I sometimes think that half of the joy of these travels is in simply surviving (with all limbs in tact and members on at least grunting terms) to tell the tale. Joy may very well be simply misery weathered.

I mention this now because I have been reflecting on another hellacious journey, the Bar (the horror, the horror), and have found myself looking back on the months of studying with that familiar, indulgent nostalgia. Memory certainly is a funny thing. A number of friends are now preparing to sit for the February bar and I know (having done it myself) that many others are scouring the internet for the "secrets to bar success." Having weathered that storm myself, I thought that I would pass on a few words of advice:

1. You know more than you think you do...Contrary of popular sentiment, you will be surprised how well law school actually does prepare you for the bar (and more specifically for the state essay portion). While coming out of school you may not necessarily know the exact details of the process of closing a mortgage in your state but you will know: (1) how to structure an arguement and (2) some basic legal principles to back up your argument in a crunch.

2. And even if you don't it doesn't have to matter...I know this sounds crazy (and it took me a while to get my head around it) but if you don't know the law - make it up. Seriously. This is the kernel of truth that BarBri etc imparted to us again and again - and I stand by it. Half of the time you will be right and the other half the fact that you are wrong is immaterials when compared against the strength of your reasoning and the solidity of the legal principles referenced. Check your state's sample answers to past questions: you will find that frequently these "best" answers featured are frequently WRONG on the law.

3. Write out essay answers for practice - even before you feel comfortable doing so. This is the best preparation for the test. As noted above these essays are very formulaic. If you are comfortable with the formula it significantly reduces stress - even if you aren't necessary comfortable with the given material. This is also important because as soon as you start answering essay questions you will (and let me underscore this, will) have a panic attack. It is best to get this out of the way earlier in the game.

4. Have a study schedule. The way I did this was not so much in regards to time allotments throughout the day, but rather specific objectives. For example: today I will cover the UCC and oral contracts, cover 40 Contract MBE questions and draft two Contracts essays. I then divided my time in general terms to meet those objectives. It is also important to have a weekly a monthly schedule - keep in mind the larger goals and don't get caught up in the minutiae.

5. Schedule in time to relax and NOT think about the bar.

6. If you are like me (and can't sleep the night before a test) invest in Tylenol PM or Simply Sleep in advance of T-minus one night. A good nights rest is critical - not only to being sharp and ready to tackle the questions but in order to keep yourself calm under pressure and everything in perspective.

Honestly, you survived first year and, in my experience nothing is as intimidating as first year of law school.

Hitchhiker's Guide to Surviving Heartbreak

2009-01-14T08:42:00.000-08:00

A few months ago my friend S. broke up with her significant other L. She has memorialized this event in the above sketch (apparently I am the bunny facing center stage with the big smile and the big rock - I take great joy in this). In an effort to cheer her up (and to procrastinate on various work projects) I wrote her the following breakup manual. I include it here for your edification and enjoyment.

“Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.” - As You Like It, (IV, i)

“Yum, yum.” - The Worms

If you are reading this now it is to be supposed that you’ve parted brass rags with the dearly b. and find yourself alone and miserable. During this difficult time what is needed before all else is time. This is all to the good as you will find that, with your schedule so suddenly and abruptly cleared, all you have is time. This pamphlet, while not guaranteed to make you less alone or miserable it does provide a few careful hints on how to while away those now empty hours.

The First Steps:
It may be assumed that you have already progressed through the first stages of a break-up: (1) reflection; (2) recrimination; and (3) repeated trips to grocery for Ben & Jerry’s. We will, therefore, only reiterate that it is natural and necessary to allow yourself the time to actively mourn over the loss of your relationship and obsess over the various whys and wherefores.

We will skip then to the next step: don’t rethink your decision. It is a truth universally acknowledged (and corroborated by Wiki-Answers ) that a man, once single, is a hell of a lot more desirable than he was when he was hooked. It is easy to romanticize your past relationship and partner and to forget the very real reasons why you were unhappy in the first place. Wiki, the source of all wisdom has this advice:

If the breakup was your decision, bear in mind that thinking about all the good times you had may cause you to forget the reason for why you broke it off. By the same token, try not to second guess if the decision to end things was not yours. It's very common to overly romanticize the good parts of a relationship, convincing yourself that maybe the bad parts weren't so bad after all, maybe you could live with them….Don't play this game with yourself. Accept the situation and move on.

In order to accomplish this it is necessary to adhere to step two: keep your distance. Thirdly, as time is not a straight-line and the human psyche a disorganized mess be prepared to cycle back around to the tears, blood and sweat phase. Accept this and acknowledge: Ben and Jerry’s is a girl’s best friend (it stays with you forever).

Another Saturday Night…

1. Take up a hobby – whether it is knitting or evil masterminding you will enjoy a sense of accomplishment and independence in completing a project.

2. Spend time with friends. This is important on two counts. First, coming out of a relationship can be bewildering – it can be difficult to reclaim your identity. Reconnecting with friends can help to remind you of who you were before the relationship. You did brilliantly before the dearly b. came into your life and you’ll do pretty bloody well now that he is gone. Secondly, should you choose evil-masterminding as your hobby your sympathetic friends can make excellent minions.

3. Take up smoking (or: Recognize your weakness and be proactive in correcting it). When enough time has passed, it is important to acknowledge what you miss from the relationship. Sex? Get a vibrator. Companionship? A dog. Adventure and excitement? Maybe drop the knitting and take up the masterminding as a hobby. At the same time, recognize that we are all creatures of habit – addictive habits. Some of us abuse relationships and physical intimacy the way others abuse drugs. Do some soul-searching and, if necessary, consider taking up drugs and or other addictive substances to fill the void.

4. Clean House – so you are not going to be the happy homemaker, that is no reason to not be happy in your home. If you can’t exert control over your life you can at least manage your CD collection. Remember, a breakup is a chance for a new start. Who will you be? And will you have an accent?

So you don’t have a sex life…
My heart bleeds for you – really, it does. However, in the words of one wise woman, “There was always going to be a completely shit time.” (Emma Thompson) So that time is now. The following is a list designed for our female reader in getting through this admittedly crap time:

WARNING: Romance novels should only be taken under the supervision of concerned friends. Do not start dosing too soon after the break up as reading may lead to extraordinary sexual frustration and depression. Please consult a health care professional, sex toy purveyor or other ‘professional’ if intense, unbearable frustration persists.

1. The Spymaster’s Lady, Joanna Bourne: The heroine of this
novel is the paradigm of “kickass.” Usually the mystery in
romance novels is weak and dull – not so here.

2. Educating Caroline, Patricia Cabot: The author of “The
Princess Diaries” in which newly royal Mia is under the
instruction of her grandmother in how to be a lady, examines a
different sort of tutelage in this charming novel. Cover not to
embarrassing – can be read on bus without being cited for
possession of lewd materials.

3. Pleasure for Pleasure, Eloisa James: This is one of my
guilty pleasure favorites. I love the heroine, Josie, because she
of how she tries to learn all she needs to know about love and
romance from romance novels…seems so "Hermione G." -esque!

4. While you are at it check out anything by: Christina Dodd, Julia
Quinn, and Susan Krinard.

Repeat as needed.

2009-01-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

I have many good qualities: intelligent, compassionate, hell of a snappy dresser,modest...but a dependable blogger I am not; and for you two out in cyber-space who do follow my blog, I apologize. I am back and armed with new years resolutions - one of which is to write more regularly. I am sure you are all most pleased.
So...what will the new year bring? Well, barring disqualification for swimmers ear or gout (or some other hidden and perfidious affliction) by the medical examiners my new year will include fatigues, early morning PT, and a whole lot of running. I was selected by the Fall '08 Army JAG accessions board! I am thrilled. I am less thrilled to learn that the earliest training available is in July, however, although this does give me the opportunity to work on my upper arm strength (currently comparable to that of a kitten) and, (if document review work picks up in order to finance) to take a long trip somewhere exotic and exciting (Argentina? Hungary?) What's the expression? Always look on the bright side of life? Yes, there is much to be grateful for.

A quarter to three / No one in the place except you and me...

2008-12-09T10:47:00.000-08:00

I don't really know why I selected the above ("One for my Baby") as my post title...its mopey pity party start somehow seemed apt (as I sit here in the fuzzy library chairs searching through Martindale Hubbel for a job).

First things first: it has been a while since I've written, so let me take a minute to bring you up to speed. This may have the feel of Hamlet in 3 minutes, so hold on:
I passed the Bar! I am fully licensed to practice law in Our Great State! Hurrah and Huzzah! This victory lends some credit in my mind to a rumor circulating among other recently barred members: the Board doesn't actually read our essays, or at least not all of them. I don't know how else to explain why some pass and others (better prepared, very intelligent others) don't.

But I got my bar results in early September. What have I been doing since then you ask? Good question: not a whole hell of a lot. This is where the bitterness may seep through a bit, so mind yourself.

Having taken clinic in my last year at law school I learned that I quite enjoyed practicing as a proper lawyer. I want to practice as an attorney a bit before moving on to anything else. So I shelved my health care advocate/lobbyist ambitions under 'D' for desperate (Desperate as in the state of our health care system and the state I would need to be in to willingly enter that muddle in the near future) and turned my attention to military law.

So I applied to the JAG corps - first the Air Force - (and a funny thing happened on the way to the air base...) and now the Army. No success with the former and I am anxiously anticipating word from the latter.

In the interim I've been working as a contract attorney conducting document review, I've learned to knit on circular needles, have taken to baking with the zeal of a 1950's housewife, and quickly worked my way through the BBC library of British comedies.

So, there you go. The last five months in five paragraphs. There has been a few side items: a few trips, holidays with friends and some family celebrations (my little sister got her first college acceptance; my brother got into med school), but that just about wraps it up. And what I have to say is - "jujitsu, I have no idea what to do and no clue how to start doing it." And welcome to my angst...

Yes, it all sounds quite pathetic - and I feel quite pathetic, unproductive, pitiful and all other sorts of words beginning with a sad 'p'. So, that is my pity party for today. Honestly, I am not usually so morose and self-indulgent (well, I am always the latter, but in different, happy, cheerful ways), but it is Tuesday, I still haven't heard from the JAG corps and there is this one sharp shard of hope that keeps cutting me. I, perhaps erroneously, believe that it would be better to just know so I can get on with life after Active Duty Accession Board rejection. I'll just have to remind myself - I wouldn't have to do 6:00 am PT.

That said, make it one more for the road.

A Summer at the Bar Shouldn't Be This Dry

2008-06-02T19:01:00.000-07:00

I am only two weeks in to Bar Prep and am looking for the exit. I have no stamina. I don't know if I am just out of practice with the whole idea of studying every day (haven't done that since first year) or if my innate laziness is just more pronounced under these concentrated conditions. Regardless of the cause, this can very easily translate into a problem (of the large and hulking variety).

This is the sort of schedule advocated by the BarBri program:

8:00 - 9:00 am: Prepatory Reading
9:00 am - 12:30pm: BarBri Lectures
12:30 - 1:30: travel time / lunch
1:30 - 3:30: MBE Practice Questions
3:30 - 4:00: Break, fold laundry
4:00 - 6:00: Study Substantive law
6:00 - 7:00: Dinner
7:00 - 8:00pm: Study Substantive Law

Rinse and Repeat 6 days out of 7. (Seriously, we are supposed to schedule in allotted time to fold laundry and all those other household things)

That is not going to happen. First of all such a rigid schedule would, I believe, be counterproductive for me; my guilt complex is too refined. I am not going to waste energy angsting over what I am not doing when that (at present limited) energy can be invested in what I am. (That in a nutshell is my take-away lesson from first year of law school). Secondly, I think that I am constitutionally incapable of studying 8-10 hours a day over 6 weeks. That is just so...abysmally bleak. And, it is childish and undisciplined, but I don't perform particularly well when so amazingly un-inspired. It would be different, I expect if I knew why I was doing this - what I was doing afterwards, but that is another big unknown.

Let me illustrate my present performance under this little black rain-cloud:

Anna's Adjusted Study Schedule
7:15 am: Alarm goes off
7:23am: Alarm goes off again

Somewhen between 7:23 and 7:30 I had a dream which revealed the secret of life the universe and everthing and everthing is peacefull and wonderful and...

7:31 am: Alarm again, secret to enlightment lost in cacophony
7:40(ish): Out of bed and prepare for the day
NPR's Morning edition reminds me (but only just vaguely) that there is a world outside of Bar Prep and procrastination. It also reminds me that it's not always gumdrops and rainbows. Wish I had that secret to life the universe and everything.

[There is a black hole somewhere between 8:00 - 8:30 where time is distorted and despite being ready to leave at a reasonable hour, I am running late again...]

9:10am: Slide in ten minutes late to lecture class; today's topic: Suretyship and Liens
9:15 am: "A suretyship is created where a third party agrees to 'back up the debt' of another under circumstances which the initial debtor is still liable."
9:17 am: Lecturer looks like an old Michael Douglas (which makes him really old) but sounds like John Goodman.
9:20 - 9:40: I give suretyship interests some very serious attention and consideration.
9:45 am: I am proud of my attention to the topic, I reward myself with brief reflection on sex.
9:50 am: "A promise to serve as a surety must be supported by consideration except where surety signs a promissory note."
9:57 am: sex, sex, sex....

I won't continue, but you see where I am going with this? Distracted, undisciplined, and uninspired (or inspired by the wrong things at least; let me say when you find yourself attracted to the lecturer because he has the slightest resemblance to Stephen Colbert and a southern minister you are going too far).

In conclusion, balance is important in life. For my own health and productivity the the demanding schedule and reclusive expectations are going to have to wait until July at the earliest.

--Anna

Some thoughts on Sex and the City

2008-06-01T14:26:00.000-07:00

This Friday I put on my party shoes, grabbed my faux-Prada purse and went to the movies for the opening of Sex and the City! (insert bouncy theme music here). Sex and the City, drinks with ‘the girls,’ and an unfettered passion for footwear have proved an important, unifying aspect of the typical 21st American girl’s life…as proved by the long line of other similarly heeled theatre-goers. Unfortunately, this 21st century girl has long since passed the stage where the adventures of the self-absorbed and uncompromising elite proved entertaining or revolutionary. (That all sounds well and good, but it really comes down to the fact that I really just don’t like Carrie) So, while all dressed up and ready to toast the movie with a cosmopolitan with my friends, I wasn’t expecting much from the movie itself. Sometimes I love it when I am wrong!

Thus far the movie has gotten a decidedly bad rap in the Life & Style section of the major newspapers and magazine. The New York Times called it “vulgar, shrill, deeply shallow…[and] overlong.” Under the byline “Girl’s Gone Mild” Newsweek described the many Manolo heels featured as the “sharpest thing” about the recent release. The New York Time’s review at least, is undeserved. The conclusion in all the Life and Style sections seems to be that the ‘Style is still ‘fabulous’ (with perhaps the exception of an odd avian headdress – a bit too ‘Bride of Frankenstein in Technicolor’) but the ‘Life’ supremely inconsequential and out of touch. As Manohla Dargis for the NYT observed: “It’s…awash with materialism and narcissism.” My question: where have you been the last 10 years? The show was outrageous, observant and revolutionary – but never particularly profound. Even the big dramas Carrie weathered throughout the six seasons always carried an element of triviality. Sex and the City’s contribution is that it asked the questions. It didn’t provide the answers but it was always honest. I respect this most recent production (and Michael Patrick King’s writing) because it retained this honesty.

Sex and the City defined a generation. Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha are this girl’s generation’s cultural gurus. While I waited in line, ticket in hand with dozens of other young women in heels and labels, my mind ran along the lines of a religious pilgrimage (the Wive’s Tale in the age of bikini waxing and texting). As if we were all here for answers on how to be young, fearless, and fabulous (seriously, if there is a handbook circulating on this topic, I would love to peruse it). In returning to the big screen, Sex and the City, comes with Big expectations. Michael Patrick King and the producers were clearly conscious of and sensitive to this expectation and responsibility, gently refuting it in the closing sequence: Carrie addresses an audience at her bookstore on her most recent book, reflecting on why women who have flouted “The Rules” in every other aspect of our personal and professional lives continue to cleave to them so tenaciously when it comes to love, sex and marriage, concluding that happiness comes down to the ‘you and me.’ It may not be the grand wedding closing of the usual Cinderella story but this is one of the most honest and hopeful happily ever afters I’ve ever encountered.

For a thoughtful review on SATC visit the LA Times here.

Some Thoughts on Bar Prep

2008-05-27T14:49:00.000-07:00

It is bizarre that a little over a week after graduation I find myself not only back at the law school but back at the same lecture hall and the same subjects from my first year. Two weeks ago (especially after our conference and client meeting up in DC) I was glowing with accomplishment. Look how far I've come! Oh, the places I'll go! Turns out the first place I'll go is right back to the beginning... (insert wry smile here).

I don't have much to say on the topic of Bar Prep at this point as I have accomplished very little thus far. Classes started last Thursday. I can say that learning civil procedure the second time around is no less painful than it was nearly three years ago. Squeezing a semester's worth of lessons into two 3 hour segments is like trying to get a canteloup through something the size of a lemon; it just won't fit (can I get a summary judgment on that?). By the end of each tutorial my brain is soup and I am good for nothing which rather interferes with my self-study plans. It is also harder in that I am learning solely for information this time around and with no interest in edification. I consequently find it rather hard to motivate myself (especially when combined with aforementioned soup-brained-ness).

Oh well. I'll stop kivetching for today and finish up with Secured Transaction and hope that tomorrow is a better (more productive!) day!

BarBri

2008-05-22T06:15:00.000-07:00

Hello, let me introduce myself, I am Anna Q., esquire. I am now a Juris Doctor.
So...after the toasts, the butter cream graduation cake...The question is what comes after – where do I go from here? I am not talking about the great hereafter family and friends keep referring to (ie: unemployment) but the more mundane and (at the moment) far more menacing – the Bar.

So, where do I go from here? The answer? Back where I started…namely First year review of Civil Procedure (and after that Torts, Crim Pro and an assortment of other classes I couldn’t bare to take while in law school). I have often felt life and law school are cyclical – at the same time I could do without returning to 12(b)6 Motion to Dismiss and Eerie.

Oh well,

Tomorrow I start formal Bar preparation with BarBri. I am less than enthused. Once more into the breech dear friends, once more!

This Post is for You, Tony...

2008-04-25T11:52:00.001-07:00

I was all ready to write an entry with profound reflections on life, instead, you are going to get a rant on “Lifetime” (“Television for women”). Now, with the exception of the odd “Frasier” episode on a Friday morning I make a point of avoiding Lifetime like the plague. This past Saturday night was an exception, when, after admitting to self that I hadn’t done any real studying for almost an hour, I joined my roommates on the couch.

“What’s on?”

“Love Sick: Secrets of a Sex Addict”

“Oh! Goody!” Interest piqued poured myself a glass of wine and asked Elizabeth budge up on the couch.

My issues with this film are numerous. First, I will confess, I felt deceived. “Secrets of a Sex Addict”’ – how very titillating, how progressive! I was impressed: Lifetime you are joining the Oh! Channel century! This is no longer your grandmother’s station; this is more like Talk Sex with Sue Johanson. I was expecting something more along the lines of the brash and honest I-TV series “Confessions of a Call Girl” or Sex and the City but with soft lighting and bad shoes. Check on soft lighting, check on bad shoes and many chiseled jaws and fluffy hair, missing much on the honesty.

How to describe this film? Anyone who has flipped past the Lifetime channel should have no trouble imagining the set up. The men were so very bad, the women so very good (so very patiently victimized) and the dialogue just painful. At several points I had to stop myself from flinging my – empty – wine goblet at the screen (it may be necessary to be soused to watch a Lifetime movie but you run a risk of property damage). Described as the “true story of a married woman with a shameful secret” the movie is based on the memoir of Sue William Silvermen, Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction, which document’s the author’s 28 days in a rehab clinic for a sex, or love, addiction. Now, I say based on, but I am actually finding it rather difficult to summarize the plot of this movie as it is so far from accurately depicting the events and emotions recounted in Silvermen’s memoir (which I hastily read afterwards on Google books). Briefly, in the film Sue is presented as a woman unhappy in a stagnant marriage and career. In response to this dissatisfaction she begins a series of exclusive affairs; one with her architect, another with her firm’s client etc. From each of these interactions Sue believes she will find the love she craves. These interactions are hardly the sterile, frantic and frequently anonymous and “dangerous encounters” described in the memoir.
Consider for example, Sue’s opening sentences of her memoir:

“Every Thursday at noon I have sex with Rick in room #213 of the Rainbow Motel. Today, even though I promised my therapist I wouldn’t come here again, I pull into the lot and park beside Rick’s black Ford Bronco. I cut the engine and air conditioner and listen to stillness, to nothing, to heat.”

Instead, we have Lifetime’s soft lighting and music and soulful sex scenes belonging to a romance novel instead of a film on a destructive compulsion and rehabilitation. Much more “English Patient” than any other kind of patient. This 2 hour movie didn’t even dedicate 28 minutes to Sue’s time in the clinic. This distortion of the purpose and focus of the memoir is only the beginning of my complaints. In true lawyer-ly fashion let me itemize these:

(1) It minimized the author’s past trauma and the roots of her compulsive behavior. Sexually abused by her father as a young child (think age 5) and later as an adolescent, this history is only alluded to in brief flashbacks and in conclusory statements from her therapist. Accepting that sex addiction is an addiction (and that one is responsible for one’s own actions and decisions) is one thing; however, the film (ie the character and her psychiatrist) completely failed to address the root of the character’s compulsion or confront her past trauma.
(2) It romanticized her sexual interactions. My assumption is that this was done to make the character more palatable, safe, and likable to the perceived Lifetime audience.
(3) Finally….oh dash it. I have worked off all my ire for now. Long story short: down with Lifetime; check out Sue Silverman’s memoirs; and I am off to polish off some Ben and Jerry’s….

That Time of Year Again!

2008-04-17T18:28:00.000-07:00

“April is the cruelest month, breeding….” fodder for my allergies. To further abuse literature and literary allusions: “It [is] the best of times, it [is] the worst of times.” It is gorgeous outside, but I can’t breathe; I am not sure how I feel about this trade-off. This recent allergy attack, coupled with the worst cold and flu season of the last five years and subsequently feeling like I’ve been sick for the last two months led me last week to conclude the worst…

We all have some secret (or not so secret) focused form of hypochondria; some illness out there that is somehow worse than all the others and we somehow, perversely, are so much more likely to contract. For my mother this fixation changes with whatever Newsweek article she has read most recently (our household has equipped itself for every passing epidemic from Mad Cow to Bird Flu). For others, this fixation is, well, fixed. For example, a friend of mine in college felt this way about herpes. Every few months there would be a panic attack precipitated by the fear that a pimple around her mouth indicated infection. A trip to student health would clear this up and bring things back to normal operation. However, I always found it funny how this very specific STD managed to inspire such terror, and a terror that was not shared over other potential diseases. More serious infections such as Hepatitis B, syphilis, Chlamydia etc. didn’t raise a thought, herpes simplex was simply all.

I teased my friend, but I am not much different. For me, this fear is mono. Every time I get a cold a part of me (that unreasonable voice in the back of my mind) attributes it to mono. And its not only the cold symptoms: “Gee, my shoulder really hurts, hope it isn’t mono” or “Gosh, I just can’t pay attention in class, I must have mono”. All this to say that when I woke up this past Thursday dizzy, fatigued and with a drippy nose I came to one diagnosis: mono. I just needed a doctor to corroborate.

So I made and appointment and in the interim attended classes and a conference and enjoyed the feeling of martyrdom as I reconciled myself to the idea of the dreaded disease.

Naturally, during this time I was getting quite accustomed to the prospect of enforced bed rest (ha! Forget the bar!), and enthusiastic that I would have such an excuse for my laziness over the last month, so imagine my disappointment when the Doctor came back with the diagnosis: allergies. So much less dramatic and I don’t think that I can use this as an excuse to the same effect.

Ah, Spring. Much can (and has) been said of the season: “Nothing is so beautiful as spring – When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush” (Gerard Manly Hopkins); when “a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love” (Tennyson). This brings me to my next topic: “A little madness in the Spring / Is wholesome even for the King.” (Dickinson). Let me share with you my little madness and why I think it very wholesome.

Having gotten the clean bill of health I went out that night with two of my roommates, Kitty and Elizabeth.
Before I continue further, I would like to stop and advise my Uncle Tim, who I ill-advisedly (considering the direction of this blog) supplied the address to a month ago, to stop here. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. In the name of Thanksgiving, and sweet potato pie and all things holy and familial do not continue to read this entry. Jump to my rant on Eliot Spitzer and other people’s scandalousness…

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Okay, the rest of you, are you still with me? Are you seated comfortably? Good. After all that build up (I invoked Sweet Potato Pie for goodness sakes!) I am afraid that this is going to be a bit anti-climatic.

Anyways, I went out with Kitty and Elizabeth. Topo was full that night. Apparently our rival University was hosting an MBA rugby tournament that weekend. Now, I’ve been kicking myself since last year when up in NYC for my cousin’s graduation, I called an early night (we were going to the Met! I wanted to be rested!) and missed the opportunity to, how does one say, Mack (?) with visiting Irish rugby players with my cousins. Let’s just say that “The Cloisters” with my parents the next day was paltry consolation. Ah, but here, a second opportunity!

Long (or rather, not so long as it really should have been) story short, met an interesting fellow from Stanford. This ex-physicist/current MBA provided the opportunity to experiment with some basic principles of physics. For example, let’s look at Newton’s Laws of Motion, in translation:
1) Bodies in motion are gonna stay in motion.
2) “Acceleration of a body is proportional to, and in the same direction as, the force acting upon it.” (ie: you know where this is headed and you have to be prepared to exert your own force)
3) For every action there is an equal but opposite reaction. – I think that speaks for itself.

Yes, simple, basic stuff. And I can see a number of you (most particularly you, Tessa) rolling your eyes at my geekiness in comparing hook-ups to Newton’s law of inertia etc, but I think it applies. It was a valuable experience – nothing like hands on experiments!

Spring indeed.
Never mind “The Waste Land,” Eliot, this Profrock is going to dare to eat a peach!

The End of an Era

2008-04-14T12:18:00.000-07:00

I am writing you while sitting through the last class of my formal education. It is a little hard to process; I've always been a student, I don't know that I know how to do anything else (not that I have done this very well of late, as demonstrated by my lack of attention to class)! This is the end of an era. So long, farewell, auf weidersehen, adieu.

Let us have a moment of silence.....

Actually, it is definitely time that this era passed, given the lack of motivation I have had for my formal education over the last semester. I am rather proud that I even made it to this class, truth be told. I had to call friend and fellow classmate Mya en route to confirm that the fact that it is rainy and limited parking are NOT sufficient reasons to skip the last class of Trusts and Estates. Tempting , yes, understandable even, but not adequate.

So I am here in my back row seat, present only out of a vague sense of duty and nostalgia and googling pictures of ocean liners for this blog and manifestly NOT paying attention. The words "beneficiaries," "trustees," and "fiduciary duties" filter through from my professor's lecture every so often so I am assured that he at least is on topic and on track. He may be the only one. One of the benefits of a back row seat is you get to observe the monitors of all the students in front of you. Of the four rows ahead of me only one is open to notes (but she is a 2L so that really can't count). Even the conscientous Mya is less than engaged in the lecture; helping me in same search for blog images! (By the way, I should include here that Mya thoroughly approves the one selected. I am much gratified by this much coveted commendation).

All this to say that it is time that this chapter closed and this class ended.

A Good Bra is Hard to Find...

2008-04-02T17:53:00.000-07:00

It’s been an eventful two weeks: house-sitting, fender-benders, losing the mock court-martial (and more distressingly, losing a measure of faith in the integrity of some of my class members) rejected by PMF selection committee…and yet I am going to write about the really incredible thing that happened…I found a decent bra. Hurrah! And there was great rejoicing throughout the land. I may be unemployed and have rising car insurance but the girls are in peak form.

Before I continue, let me explain my enthusiasm. I have the same relationship with bras that most women have with jeans: ie I just can’t seem to find them in my size. This is frustrating; I feel left out and singled out, but I am not. Apparently, (as reported on Oprah) 85% of American women wear incorrectly fitted bras. This is unfortunate, as nothing puts a bounce (or, rather, maybe a little less actual bounce) in your step than knowing you are wearing a really awesome bit of lingerie. Somehow the sun shines brighter, the sky is bluer when you know that you are all tucked in and trucked out. To illustrate this point, I give you: a day with my bra:

7:00 am: Woke up, rolled over, went back to sleep
8:00 am: Repeat
8:35 am: Replayed and elaborated on pleasant dream – reality eventually intrudes (damn reality) – start running through list of ‘things to do.’ Wonder if I am really interested in accomplishing any of these things….
8:40: Ponder this for awhile…
8:45: After considerable deliberation I decide that there’s no place like bed and I can’t think of one really good reason to leave it (having accepted that when I leave bed bad things happen – as my car’s back bumper attests)…
8:46: About to snuggle down, shut it out and return to afore-mentioned fantasy-land when my eyes fall on it…my one good reason (in my self-indulgent and semi-depressive state) to get up and be happy about it: my shopping bag containing my new bra.
…..
8:47: “Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh what a beautiful day! I’ve got a wonderful feeling, everything’s going my way.”
…..
8:50: The Bra is lovely: white lace, balconet cut, scalloped edges and the obligatory tiny bow in the center. I feel like a 1950’s bombshell – the good variety.
9:00: I can’t decide what shirt to wear. I try on several and discard them summarily as unworthy for The Bra’s Inauguration day.
9:05: BBC News Hour on NPR: Mugabe loses election in Zimbabwe, Zimbabwe suffers inflation at 100,000%, future uncertain; Ukraine’s petitions to enter NATO, Russia not happy; American recession; Bush on Afghanistan….and the headline at our house: Shirt selected for office (summit leaders reach universal consensus that it is a damn shame that there must be a shirt at all).
….
11:30: Still really excited about The Bra. It is wonderful
……..
1:05: Meeting with clinic professor on pending projects.
1:06: Professor and my partner discuss an upcoming speaker series at the University. I smile and nod beatifically and think about the awesome-ness of The Bra.
1:08: I wonder if I should order multiples? They say when you find a good product you should buy multiples. I wonder if they have it in blue?
1:10: I think balconet cut may be the most flattering on me. I wonder if I can find a balconet cut swim-wear.
1:11: Oh, Professor wants an update on our client…
...
2:30: In cubicle trying to draft policy paper but am, once again, distracted by The Bra. It happens. Start blogging on the bra instead of writing paper. Resist urge to escape to changing room to check out bra again.
2:45: Attempt to concentrate on paper
3:00: I stop resisting.
...
3:10: Trusts and Estates Class
3:17: Professor lectures on the “Dynasty of Perpetual Trust” – I start fantasizing about Chinese food.
3:31: I receive formal email notifying me that I was not selected as a Presidential Management Fellow finalist. I am bummed.
4:10: Class ends. Still bummed. Even The Bra fails to uplift and separate self from woes.
5:15: Bummed, bummed, bummity bummed. The lark’s on the wing, the snail on the thorn, God may be in his heaven but all is not right in my world.
6:00: Mom emails an encouraging note and an invitation out to dinner. I suggest Chinese. Things are less bleak.
6:15: Class ends early – definitely looking up!
6:40: Poor a glass of wine, Kick my shoes off, strip off my shirt. It is still a damn good bra.

Finis.

Return to School, the horror, the horror

2008-03-16T12:29:00.000-07:00

Today is the last day of Spring Break. The last day of break is always worse than the first day of work: there is the dread, the lethargy, and the knowledge that if you don't do the multitude of little tasks you were supposed to complete days ago you are right and royally screwed.
So, what is needed is some pep and vigor! I have probably already cornered you and made you watch this clip of Hugh Laurie singing "Hey Jude" (and no one else seems to find it as cheering as I do) but I am including it here as you too may need something going into Monday. Remember, Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Here is Hugh Laurie doing just that!

On the topic of horror....

My roommates and I continued our movie watching tradition last night with Hitchcock's "Vertigo." Great movie. Afterwards I turned again to wikipedia and SparkNotes for post-film analysis etc. One thing led to another and the next thing you know I am watching Psycho on my computer. This was a BAD IDEA. (And if you don't know the premise of Psycho continuing to read here is another bad idea) That is the danger with Hitchcock: there are so many elegant dresses and pretty words that you can forget that it is pretty dashed scary and you end up watching Psycho late at night thinking there can be no harm to your psyche (or your hygiene - not to keen on idea of a shower right now). And there was no harm until the very last scene: Norman Bates, draped in a blanket sitting in his cell speaking in his head as his mother:

"I hope they are watching. They'll see. They'll see and they'll know. And they'll say (eyes finally raising to the camera) why she wouldn't even hurt a fly."

And then Hitchcock does his fancy lighting/shading and the vague image of a skull is transposed over Norman's mad face - and cutting away to grille of the car as it is wenched out of the mud. Ugh (shivers).

Okay, I hope that left you with happy thoughts! Just watch "Hey Jude" again and repeat as needed!

RICO and a Return to American Values

2008-03-15T11:56:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went out to lunch with two of my good friends from law school: Mya and Thalia. We talked of many things (ships and sails and sealing wax! Of carpenters and kings!) politics, sex, sex with politicians…so it inevitably cycled around to the never cooling topic of the last week: the Spitzer sex scandal. There’s not much to say here that hasn’t already been covered ad nauseum, but am just going to throw in my two cents regardless.

The case particularly interests me as I have been working closely in my policy clinic analyzing RICO (Racketeer Influenced Corrupt Organizations Act) – the same prosecutorial tool Spitzer used in bringing down the big bosses of “Little Italy” and later of Wall Street. Briefly, RICO was passed in 1970 amidst growing concern of organized crime syndicate’s economic and political influence, and by broadly identifying illegal activity (here investment in any pattern of ‘racketeering’) provided a mechanism to hold not only the executors but the executives of organized crime accountable. There is much that can be said against RICO (bad law, circumvention of due process protections, that it creates an association based crime…), but no one can contest that it has been effective. It’s success has largely been owing to the ingenuity of individuals such as Mr. Spitzer (for example: Mr. Spitzer launched the successful 1992 investigation of the Gambino family’s mafia stranglehold on the trucking and garment industry in Manhattan).

So, my question is….

WTF? Really, WTF?! This man built his career around RICO and it's premise that it applies to everyone – including those previously ‘untouchables.’ That is the beauty/nightmare that is RICO. How could he fail to recognize this? He utilized this very tool. Hoisted on his own petard…
Sigh. Every day there is something that discourages me that little bit more about the human race. Sad thing here is that it is not the morality that surprises and upsets me – just the stupidity. Affairs are old news; politicians and their use of prostitutes is no big shocker; what disappoints me is how stupid he was about it!
What is one to think?

These were the questions we mulled over – and didn’t come up with any real answers until inspiration struck…
Many (law students in particular) have looked for wisdom at the bottom of the glass. Difference is, in this instance, I actually found it. There, printed on my coaster, were words of wisdom I longed to share with this “Big Boss”: “Big Boss Brewing Company: ‘Handle Your Business.’” The lessons you can pull from the beer tap! I held up the coaster to my friends and started on my rant:

“Here it is, his would-be fortune cookie: “Handle Your Business.” None of this would have happened if he had just followed this advice: take care of business…yourself. Whatever happed to American values, namely self-reliance? That can do spirit tempered with the, yes, but I won’t do and will do for myself.”

This country was built on a number of things: Puritanism, Enlightenment ideals, the belief that “all men are created equal” (“and are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness” sorry, it’s automatic)……..slavery, but self-reliance is implicit in all of those (except the latter, obviously, and doesn’t that rather support the point of the importance of this virtue?). So, my fellow Americans, I ask you, let us return to our most essential of “American” virtues: independence and self-reliance. Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for yourself; because that is what made America great and got Onan a chapter in the Bible.

In closing, I would ask (just as every pundit and publican trots them out for their position de jour; I am no different!) what would the founding fathers say? I did a quick wikiquote search to see if these three such founding brothers had any thoughts on the subject. Then, recognizing that the more things change the more they stay the same and that they are all men and worse, politicians, I included a probable translation into their personal lives.

George Washington :
“Associate yourself with men of good quality…for ‘tis better to be alone than in bad company.” – Rules of Civility

(What he most likely would have said had there been tabloids in 1776: I cannot tell a lie: I did fell her with my little hatchet.)

T. Jefferson:
“Never trouble another for what you can do for yourself.”
and
“An honest man can feel no pleasure in the exercise of power over his fellow citizens.”

(And somewhat compromising his enlightened prose above, we have the Thomas Jefferson theme song courtesy of Eric Clapton: Lay down, Sally.)

Benjamin Franklin:
“Rarely use Venery but for Health or Offspring; Never to Dulness, Weakness, or the Injury of your own or another’s Peace or Reputation.”
-Franklin’s Autobiography

(But you do have to love the old goat, he was no hypocrite: “Old boys have their playthings as well as young ones; the difference in only in the price.”)

Play on, old man, play on. Just don't text for your playthings.

Growing Up - An Awfully Big Adventure

2008-03-12T15:27:00.000-07:00

When I was little (and then later when I was not so little) I promised myself that I wouldn’t grow up. It wasn’t going to happen. Yes, I know, a foolish, futile promise, but one that I have stubbornly adhered to over the last decade and a half. Now, twenty-five, about to graduate law school and launch a career of my very own (health insurance, car payments, and working 8-5, oh my!), while I am still not entirely sure that I approve of the process I do (reluctantly) recognize its inevitability. This blog is an exercise in growing up gracefully, albeit belatedly. So this is me, putting on my big girl boots and getting ready to tromp out and make my place; to do that I am going to need to lean on a few old friends and old dreams!
Love, Anna
"I'm not young enough to know everything." - J.M. Barrie

Here's looking at you, kid

2007-02-25T16:21:00.000-08:00

I sat down with very good and very strong intentions: I would update my blog. Hurrah! But then the TV in front of me was so blank turned off - it was unnatural. It couldn't hurt to turn it on - a little background noise is soothing. Then there was the channel surfing - and lo, Casablanca is featured on TCM. I can't miss that, and neither should you. The following are a few of my favorite quotes.

"I remember Paris perfectly. The Germans wore grey, you wore blue."
- Rick Blaine, Casablanca

Rick: I congratulate you.
Victor: What for?
Rick: Your work.
Victor: I try.
Rick: We all try. You succeed.

"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world she had to walk into mine."
- Rick

"Welcome back to the fight."
- Lazlo, Casablanca

"Major Strasser has been shot. Round up the usual suspects."
- Capt. Renault, Casablanca

"Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
- Rick, Casablanca

White Day

2007-02-21T11:41:00.000-08:00

Dear All,
First of all, happy (belated) Valentines day! I should get around to posting those Valentine’s cards sometime around Easter (I rather shamefully admit that I only got around to actually posting some Christmas ‘thank you’s as late as last week. It is a long process from the writing (late December), sealing and addressing (early January), and stamping (early February) to the physical post box delivery (February 13th, 4:58pm) I am pathetic – I know this).
So the cards – if ever posted – will be typically late. But tardiness can be a virtue, no? Think of it as extending the Valentine’s Day celebrations (only the nice bits though - ie: candy and cards made of doilies – not the depressing parts marked by the absence thereof). And actually, I would be right on the proper time frame if we all lived in Japan!

Which brings me to the topic of White Day. (And I apologize if I have already cornered you and lectured on this topic) I learned about White Day while researching the history of Valentines Day during class (hurrah for Wikipedia – without which I might know more about Contracts and Torts but would be entirely clueless about the origin of the “It” Girl). But to return to White Day - In Japan women usually give men chocolate and gifts on Valentine’s Day. A whole other holiday (White Day) developed a month later (March 14th) in which men return the favor with white gifts (marshmallows, white chocolate and the ever-popular lingerie). I’m all for holidays (even such artificial holidays as Valentines Day) and all for chocolate and candies (even such artificial chocolate-creations like white chocolate) so I think that the Japanese and Koreans have a good idea here. The crazy thing is that this billion dollar holiday was promulgated by the…wait for it…MARSHMALLOW industry. Isn’t that crazy? I mean, who ever would expect the marshmallow-makers of the world to wield such influence? They are so…fluffy.
But, perhaps this girl-scout s’more friendly industry with its soft, powdery products is only a façade for a true holiday hegemony. Sort of in the same way the fashion industry is allegedly the puppet master behind all the great world conflicts.(See Zoolander). On reflection, marshmallows do seem to have quite the monopoly over holidays. With the exception of holiday colored M&Ms I can’t think of any other confection that has carved such an essential niche in such a breadth of holiday celebrations. What would Easter be without peeps? And Thanksgiving and family harmony (sometimes fraying at the edges during times of family togetherness) might just unravel without Mom’s sweet potatoes (which, as you know depends on those little marshmallows). What would winter be without marshmallows in the hot chocolate and autumn camp-fires without s’mores? I am sure that there more – the truth is out there. So, the question remains – Marshmallows: tyrant of modern holiday world or benign victim of childish microwave experimentation?