There's a little café/sandwich shop on the first floor of the building where I'm working for my summer internship. The woman who runs it is very friendly, and we'll often chat when I stop in to pick something up. Aside from the shop, she also does personal catering for people, making food for them to have for daily living (as opposed to food for an event).
I stopped in today because I saw that she had chili, and I'm a sucker for good chili. I noticed on the counter that she had a little trophy that said, "[some school] Elementary School Chili Cook-off Champion," and asked if this was the award-winning chili. She laughed, and told me that yes, this was the award-winning chili. And the reason she has the trophy is that one of her clients paid her to make chili for their kid's school chili contest.
Yes, that's right - professional caterer for the kid's chili contest.
Her thoughts on the matter, "At least they were big enough to let me know that it won, and let me have the trophy."
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
And...Scene!
[Setting: Third and fourth floors of the law school library. The fourth floor consists of a large loft area with an open staircase to the third floor. Student #1 is working on the fourth floor; Student #2 is working on the third floor; both are wearing headphones.]
S2: *singing*
S1: [listening to hockey game online, hears a noise over the hockey game.] Huh? What the heck is that?
[S1 removes headphones and realizes it is someone singing. S1 puts headphones back on and turns up the volume of the hockey game.]
[20 minutes elapse. The hockey game has ended.]
S2: *still singing*
S1: [hears noises as the hockey game ends] Really? You're kidding.
[5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *still singing*
[S1 walks to fourth floor railing, and can see S2 at the table below.]
S1: Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *waves arm* Hey! Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *whistles loudly* Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *slaps wooden railing with palm of hand, whistles*
S2: *still singing, but louder*
[S1, bewildered, decides it is not worth the effort and returns to library carrel. 5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *talking on cell phone in Russian*
[5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *still talking on cell phone in Russian*
[Frustrated, S1 walks down the stairs to the third floor and towards S2's table. Meanwhile, S2 finishes her phone conversation.]
S1: Excuse me, would you mind being a little quieter?
S2: *stares at S1, at first blankly and then with mild hostility*
S1: With the cell phone, and the singing. Could you please keep it down?
S2: Singing?
S1: Yes, singing.
S2: *stares blankly*
S1: The singing. A few minutes ago, before you got on the phone. Your singing.
S2: My singing?
S1: Yes. You were singing.
S2: I was singing?
S1: Yes. You were singing.
S2: I was?
S1: Yes, you were. Singing.
S2: *stares blankly*
[5-10 seconds elapse. S1 returns to the fourth floor.]
S2: *singing*
S1: [listening to hockey game online, hears a noise over the hockey game.] Huh? What the heck is that?
[S1 removes headphones and realizes it is someone singing. S1 puts headphones back on and turns up the volume of the hockey game.]
[20 minutes elapse. The hockey game has ended.]
S2: *still singing*
S1: [hears noises as the hockey game ends] Really? You're kidding.
[5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *still singing*
[S1 walks to fourth floor railing, and can see S2 at the table below.]
S1: Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *waves arm* Hey! Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *whistles loudly* Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *slaps wooden railing with palm of hand, whistles*
S2: *still singing, but louder*
[S1, bewildered, decides it is not worth the effort and returns to library carrel. 5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *talking on cell phone in Russian*
[5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *still talking on cell phone in Russian*
[Frustrated, S1 walks down the stairs to the third floor and towards S2's table. Meanwhile, S2 finishes her phone conversation.]
S1: Excuse me, would you mind being a little quieter?
S2: *stares at S1, at first blankly and then with mild hostility*
S1: With the cell phone, and the singing. Could you please keep it down?
S2: Singing?
S1: Yes, singing.
S2: *stares blankly*
S1: The singing. A few minutes ago, before you got on the phone. Your singing.
S2: My singing?
S1: Yes. You were singing.
S2: I was singing?
S1: Yes. You were singing.
S2: I was?
S1: Yes, you were. Singing.
S2: *stares blankly*
[5-10 seconds elapse. S1 returns to the fourth floor.]
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
"Gentrification"
I will admit first and foremost that I live in Hollywood, which I characterize as seedy, yet safe. Seedy in that it features a sizable population of down and out folks including homeless people, folks with substance abuse problems, folks who have come here to "make it" but currently have next to nothing, and others who are generally just trying to fly under the radar of society in a way that can really only be done in seedy places with "hotels" that rent rooms by the week on a cash basis. But safe, because since it is cheap, it also features a fair number of working-class immigrant families, and also because Los Angeles is heavily invested in keeping its #1 tourist attraction safe for the out of town buck, so there are cops all over the place.
So when I started looking for an apartment here, I knew I wasn't going to be living in the lap of luxury, which was completely fine with me--I'm generally uncomfortable in unfamiliar laps, especially luxurious ones. As a law student going to school at UCLA with a significant other working in downtown and living in Orange County, Hollywood was perfect: cheap but not dangerous, easy public transit commute to UCLA, and easy public transit commute to downtown and Union Station (and hence Orange Country via commuter rail). I was hoping for a decent place with a minimum of sketchy people, no bugs, no foul odors, and doors that lock.
Happily, I was quickly quite successful. My roommate and I found our current place in a small building. It's a small two bedroom (AND two bath...unexpected bonus), there's a cute little courtyard with lots of plants and a pool (which is almost never open, but at least it's nice to look at); the apartment had been completely redone since the previous tenants with new fake-wood floors & fresh paint; it didn't smell; and the building, with a mix of studios and 1 & 2 bedroom places, was a mix of mostly working class Latino families--some of whom had been there many years, a few solo older folks, a few younger white couples, and one unit occupied by someone who I think just uses it as their weekend affair pad (read: really fancy car only shows up on weekends once or twice a month); and the big coup for Hollywood: TWO PARKING SPOTS.
For the most part, I have liked it here. The apartment has been exactly what I've hoped for--cheap, utility apartment where I've been able to get comfy, easy transport around town.
But...
About a month or so after I moved in, things got weird. The apartment manager changed, and instead of the younger, tattooed couple managing the place, we got this awkward, skinny, older white guy. At the same time we all got letters announcing that there was to be no more hanging towels on the balcony railing to dry, no more bikes kept in common areas outside of apartments, typical attempted-gentrification-type stuff. Can't have this place looking low-class now, can we.
Then a few months in, said weird apartment manager approached me in the laundry room one day. He asked if I would be willing to testify against my neighbors, a Latino family with 3 kids, to get them evicted on account of noise. Keep in mind, I had not once complained about noise from this family. Yes, they generate some noise, but THEY ARE A FAMILY. And the building isn't exactly soundproof, so I can hardly blame them if their typical family noise travels into my apartment. Not only had I never complained about the noise, but it had never crossed my mind to do so. They never bothered me.
Being do-gooder law students, my roommate and I talked to them, and we heard the story we were afraid of. Most of the Latino families in the building were being harassed, bugged about things they had never been talked to about before in years. And one by one, we started to notice turnover, and a higher number of white residents and fewer Latino tenants.
We were bummed to realize that we ourselves were part of a wave of gentrification which was hitting the building.
In a society where people automatically view a high concentration of non-white people as a sign of poverty and lower class, naturally a high population of white people must be a sign of safety, higher class, and a more desirable place to live, right?
So let's see what this gentrification has gotten us.
Many of the young white folks that have served as part of this wave are young kids trying to get into "The Industry"...those people I mentioned before who are trying to make it but currently have next to nothing. I don't have anything against them for that. What I do have against them is that they play music all the damn time (both listening to it and playing it); they stand in common areas talking on their cell phones or to one another ridiculously loudly; they loudly bring equipment in and out of the building at all hours of the day; they have more late night get togethers; they smoke a variety of things in common areas of the building and leave their cigarette butts scattered about; they prop the secure outside doors open so they don't need keys; there is a markedly higher number of strange people I don't recognize coming and going through the building; while I haven't seen any critters, I just received notice that they are coming through to do a pest control spray, because one of the units now has bugs.
In general, it's just a less pleasant place to live. And Mr. Manager, the guy who was so concerned about the noise from the family next door (who thankfully is still there)? I asked him the other day about some of these issues. He said he was too busy to be "policing" everyone all the time, and I would just have to deal with it myself.
Yes. Gentrification. White is better, of course.
And certainly, we are in a post racial America.
So when I started looking for an apartment here, I knew I wasn't going to be living in the lap of luxury, which was completely fine with me--I'm generally uncomfortable in unfamiliar laps, especially luxurious ones. As a law student going to school at UCLA with a significant other working in downtown and living in Orange County, Hollywood was perfect: cheap but not dangerous, easy public transit commute to UCLA, and easy public transit commute to downtown and Union Station (and hence Orange Country via commuter rail). I was hoping for a decent place with a minimum of sketchy people, no bugs, no foul odors, and doors that lock.
Happily, I was quickly quite successful. My roommate and I found our current place in a small building. It's a small two bedroom (AND two bath...unexpected bonus), there's a cute little courtyard with lots of plants and a pool (which is almost never open, but at least it's nice to look at); the apartment had been completely redone since the previous tenants with new fake-wood floors & fresh paint; it didn't smell; and the building, with a mix of studios and 1 & 2 bedroom places, was a mix of mostly working class Latino families--some of whom had been there many years, a few solo older folks, a few younger white couples, and one unit occupied by someone who I think just uses it as their weekend affair pad (read: really fancy car only shows up on weekends once or twice a month); and the big coup for Hollywood: TWO PARKING SPOTS.
For the most part, I have liked it here. The apartment has been exactly what I've hoped for--cheap, utility apartment where I've been able to get comfy, easy transport around town.
But...
About a month or so after I moved in, things got weird. The apartment manager changed, and instead of the younger, tattooed couple managing the place, we got this awkward, skinny, older white guy. At the same time we all got letters announcing that there was to be no more hanging towels on the balcony railing to dry, no more bikes kept in common areas outside of apartments, typical attempted-gentrification-type stuff. Can't have this place looking low-class now, can we.
Then a few months in, said weird apartment manager approached me in the laundry room one day. He asked if I would be willing to testify against my neighbors, a Latino family with 3 kids, to get them evicted on account of noise. Keep in mind, I had not once complained about noise from this family. Yes, they generate some noise, but THEY ARE A FAMILY. And the building isn't exactly soundproof, so I can hardly blame them if their typical family noise travels into my apartment. Not only had I never complained about the noise, but it had never crossed my mind to do so. They never bothered me.
Being do-gooder law students, my roommate and I talked to them, and we heard the story we were afraid of. Most of the Latino families in the building were being harassed, bugged about things they had never been talked to about before in years. And one by one, we started to notice turnover, and a higher number of white residents and fewer Latino tenants.
We were bummed to realize that we ourselves were part of a wave of gentrification which was hitting the building.
In a society where people automatically view a high concentration of non-white people as a sign of poverty and lower class, naturally a high population of white people must be a sign of safety, higher class, and a more desirable place to live, right?
So let's see what this gentrification has gotten us.
Many of the young white folks that have served as part of this wave are young kids trying to get into "The Industry"...those people I mentioned before who are trying to make it but currently have next to nothing. I don't have anything against them for that. What I do have against them is that they play music all the damn time (both listening to it and playing it); they stand in common areas talking on their cell phones or to one another ridiculously loudly; they loudly bring equipment in and out of the building at all hours of the day; they have more late night get togethers; they smoke a variety of things in common areas of the building and leave their cigarette butts scattered about; they prop the secure outside doors open so they don't need keys; there is a markedly higher number of strange people I don't recognize coming and going through the building; while I haven't seen any critters, I just received notice that they are coming through to do a pest control spray, because one of the units now has bugs.
In general, it's just a less pleasant place to live. And Mr. Manager, the guy who was so concerned about the noise from the family next door (who thankfully is still there)? I asked him the other day about some of these issues. He said he was too busy to be "policing" everyone all the time, and I would just have to deal with it myself.
Yes. Gentrification. White is better, of course.
And certainly, we are in a post racial America.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Bring Steak!
I've entered bring steak...known as spring break to grown up people and people whose brains have not been deteriorated by law school. This of course means that I can work on work without having to worry about pesky classes. It also means I get to do laundry...seven loads of it, to be exact. And clean up a bit. And sleep. Mmmm....sleep...
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Advice
If you are working with a team of people, especially if you have asked them to work with you on a project that will end up requiring much more of their time than they anticipated lending to you, be respectful of their time, and follow through on your responsibilities to them. Otherwise, people end up having days like I have had so far today.
[Quick backstory:
I am helping organize a rather large event at my school, a 3-day symposium with most of the top names in the academic field it relates to, with over300 400 550 registered participants (which keeps going up because they did not put a deadline or cap on registration), about 100 volunteers, and about 200 presenters. My primary job is Cat Herding...aka Volunteer Coordination. This means that it's my job to keep tabs on what volunteers are supposed to be where, where more volunteers are needed, and to relate to volunteers what/where/when/how they are supposed to do things. This is all based on instructions, needs, requests, etc. given to me by people managing the various different aspects of the symposium. Today is Wednesday. The symposium starts tomorrow.]
Back to my day thus far:
After being up late last night working, I dragged myself to campus for an 8:00 symposium breakfast meeting and a later--unrelated--lunch meeting. Both of these meetings ended up being canceled without my knowing until I showed up to empty rooms both times. This meant that I came to campus about 10 hours before I needed to be here, with no food (because food was supposed to be at both meetings). Only one of the 11 other organizers has sent me the instructions for their volunteers in the various areas. I have not heard a peep regarding a job I intensely want for the summer, despite being told to check in with them if I had not heard anything by yesterday. (Which I did. Yesterday.) Nobody has replied to numerous questions and concerns I have sent out about this and other aspects of the symposium, despite one of them explicitly asking if we could meet this afternoon. In about 5 hours, I am training anywhere from 10 to 100 volunteers, except I don't really have anything to train them on.
And a bird dribbled poop on my head. And it's only 2:00.
[Quick backstory:
I am helping organize a rather large event at my school, a 3-day symposium with most of the top names in the academic field it relates to, with over
Back to my day thus far:
After being up late last night working, I dragged myself to campus for an 8:00 symposium breakfast meeting and a later--unrelated--lunch meeting. Both of these meetings ended up being canceled without my knowing until I showed up to empty rooms both times. This meant that I came to campus about 10 hours before I needed to be here, with no food (because food was supposed to be at both meetings). Only one of the 11 other organizers has sent me the instructions for their volunteers in the various areas. I have not heard a peep regarding a job I intensely want for the summer, despite being told to check in with them if I had not heard anything by yesterday. (Which I did. Yesterday.) Nobody has replied to numerous questions and concerns I have sent out about this and other aspects of the symposium, despite one of them explicitly asking if we could meet this afternoon. In about 5 hours, I am training anywhere from 10 to 100 volunteers, except I don't really have anything to train them on.
And a bird dribbled poop on my head. And it's only 2:00.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Quintessential Hollywood
LT and I took a walk today, and the second half ended up being a quintessential Hollywood experience. At least, for people who know what Hollywood is actually like.
There was of course the part that people who don't know Hollywood think of--celebrity event. We passed a throng of kids outside of some theater, waiting to get into a benefit concert starring a whole bunch of kid stars. One was outside signing autographs, but damned if I know who it was. He looked like he was about 10, and I thought about how weird it would be to be 10 and have to learn how to work a crowd and greet fans and sign autographs and stuff. The neatest part about it was the street performer we saw a block earlier getting ready to make an appearance, getting himself up on pretty decently sized stilts.
Then there were two blocks that were really almost a complete picture of the real Hollywood. It started with a new condo/apartment/shopping development, across the street were a bunch of old trees that had completely decimated the sidewalk. A block down we noticed this really neat looking building with balconies with fun designs and admired it for a bit, then when we got to the corner we saw the sign saying that it was housing for elderly LGBT folks. Then the next block involved a restaurant called Big Wangs, advertising Bikini Bingo every Sunday night at 8; two guys yelling back and forth across the street while one was parking an old beater car; another guy driving by in an annoyingly loud Mustang; a loud and rowdy bar; a shady bar that you couldn't see inside at all, all you saw was a dark doorway with a sign above it; and a minor celebrity standing outside a closed auto body shop smoking a cigarette.
And that, my friends, is Hollywood.
There was of course the part that people who don't know Hollywood think of--celebrity event. We passed a throng of kids outside of some theater, waiting to get into a benefit concert starring a whole bunch of kid stars. One was outside signing autographs, but damned if I know who it was. He looked like he was about 10, and I thought about how weird it would be to be 10 and have to learn how to work a crowd and greet fans and sign autographs and stuff. The neatest part about it was the street performer we saw a block earlier getting ready to make an appearance, getting himself up on pretty decently sized stilts.
Then there were two blocks that were really almost a complete picture of the real Hollywood. It started with a new condo/apartment/shopping development, across the street were a bunch of old trees that had completely decimated the sidewalk. A block down we noticed this really neat looking building with balconies with fun designs and admired it for a bit, then when we got to the corner we saw the sign saying that it was housing for elderly LGBT folks. Then the next block involved a restaurant called Big Wangs, advertising Bikini Bingo every Sunday night at 8; two guys yelling back and forth across the street while one was parking an old beater car; another guy driving by in an annoyingly loud Mustang; a loud and rowdy bar; a shady bar that you couldn't see inside at all, all you saw was a dark doorway with a sign above it; and a minor celebrity standing outside a closed auto body shop smoking a cigarette.
And that, my friends, is Hollywood.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Hello, Strangers
I have often heard the adage about one's eyes being bigger than one's stomach. Apparently this is true regarding activities, as well.
When last we met, I was getting ready for my last real final, and psyching myself up to not slip into a coma before my last actual final. I managed to succeed in that, then slipped into a coma AFTER my last actual final. If I remember right, for about the next two weeks I slept an average of 12-14 hours a day. Having never been someone to sleep all day, this was quite a change for me.
Thankfully, I finally caught up on 9 months' worth of sleep, and my proverbial eyes got bigger than my proverbial stomach. Basically, I got so excited about not having all this school work to do that I immediately started committing myself to all kinds of stuff, and ended up being just as crazy as I was during that horrible second semester. I learned that lesson after a little bit, and started backing off of some things, and I think now I've gotten myself almost to a reasonable level. Almost.
At any rate, the last several months have been pretty filled with "figuring yourself out and learning about how you see the world" kind of stuff. I've spent the summer as a law clerk for National Center for Lesbian Rights, which, despite its name, is one of the most progressive and inclusive LGBTQ legal organizations out there. It has been a crazy busy internship, but an amazing one--the people are dedicated beyond belief and amazing to work with, and they accept nothing from themselves except the highest quality. The end result is an absolutely spectacular organization that does breathtaking work.
I've also started to realize how much over the last year my world view has grown and shifted, and how I see things so differently than I did even a year ago. It's not that I have changed any of my core beliefs about the world; it's more that my views on a lot of things have sharpened and clarified. I feel a lot more solid in my beliefs, as though the ways I thought about things before were on the right track, but they were inklings of thoughts--guesses made by someone who didn't have any experience to really have anything beyond a guess. I don't think that is an entirely true characterization, but it's something like that.
Anyway, enough esoteric blabbering for one night. To bed!
When last we met, I was getting ready for my last real final, and psyching myself up to not slip into a coma before my last actual final. I managed to succeed in that, then slipped into a coma AFTER my last actual final. If I remember right, for about the next two weeks I slept an average of 12-14 hours a day. Having never been someone to sleep all day, this was quite a change for me.
Thankfully, I finally caught up on 9 months' worth of sleep, and my proverbial eyes got bigger than my proverbial stomach. Basically, I got so excited about not having all this school work to do that I immediately started committing myself to all kinds of stuff, and ended up being just as crazy as I was during that horrible second semester. I learned that lesson after a little bit, and started backing off of some things, and I think now I've gotten myself almost to a reasonable level. Almost.
At any rate, the last several months have been pretty filled with "figuring yourself out and learning about how you see the world" kind of stuff. I've spent the summer as a law clerk for National Center for Lesbian Rights, which, despite its name, is one of the most progressive and inclusive LGBTQ legal organizations out there. It has been a crazy busy internship, but an amazing one--the people are dedicated beyond belief and amazing to work with, and they accept nothing from themselves except the highest quality. The end result is an absolutely spectacular organization that does breathtaking work.
I've also started to realize how much over the last year my world view has grown and shifted, and how I see things so differently than I did even a year ago. It's not that I have changed any of my core beliefs about the world; it's more that my views on a lot of things have sharpened and clarified. I feel a lot more solid in my beliefs, as though the ways I thought about things before were on the right track, but they were inklings of thoughts--guesses made by someone who didn't have any experience to really have anything beyond a guess. I don't think that is an entirely true characterization, but it's something like that.
Anyway, enough esoteric blabbering for one night. To bed!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
I'm Not Dead Yet
...I feel happy!!! I feel happy!!!!
For all the times I thought I was busy before, but still had time to post once a week or two, the last two months have been quite the joke on me.
But, I'm almost done. My last "real" final is tomorrow, then next Monday I have a kinda-final, which counts for 20% of that class (compared to the other finals, which are 100% of their classes).
So I figured, while I'm whittling away the final days, the following tribute would be a good way to try to relate the last nine months of my life to you.
To compare me to the video:
- Haircuts come few and far between; I'm generally much shaggier than I was before. And I bathe less. I do still USUALLY brush my teeth every day, unless I'm running late that morning.
- My computer is in fact broken (the keyboard doesn't work, I have to use an external one), but it's a Mac, not a Dell. (If it was a Dell it would probably be smoking right now.) It looks hokey, but the external one was cheaper than fixing it. The only truly annoying thing is answering questions about it.
- I haven't lived on mashed potatoes - my cuisine has mostly been generic Mac n Cheese with a can of tuna thrown in, usually made without milk (milk is expensive, and it goes bad). Stretch one box into two meals, and you've got under 75¢ a meal, baby! And oatmeal for breakfast - do you realize how cheap oatmeal is?! Cereal has become too rich for my blood - 8¢ per meal vs. 50¢? No contest.
(In the interests of full disclosure, for the last few weeks I've discovered that the oatmeal is really good when you make it with milk, so I've been sucking it up and spending the $1.50 for a half gallon each week, thereby having milk for the Mac n Cheese, too.)
For all the times I thought I was busy before, but still had time to post once a week or two, the last two months have been quite the joke on me.
But, I'm almost done. My last "real" final is tomorrow, then next Monday I have a kinda-final, which counts for 20% of that class (compared to the other finals, which are 100% of their classes).
So I figured, while I'm whittling away the final days, the following tribute would be a good way to try to relate the last nine months of my life to you.
To compare me to the video:
- Haircuts come few and far between; I'm generally much shaggier than I was before. And I bathe less. I do still USUALLY brush my teeth every day, unless I'm running late that morning.
- My computer is in fact broken (the keyboard doesn't work, I have to use an external one), but it's a Mac, not a Dell. (If it was a Dell it would probably be smoking right now.) It looks hokey, but the external one was cheaper than fixing it. The only truly annoying thing is answering questions about it.
- I haven't lived on mashed potatoes - my cuisine has mostly been generic Mac n Cheese with a can of tuna thrown in, usually made without milk (milk is expensive, and it goes bad). Stretch one box into two meals, and you've got under 75¢ a meal, baby! And oatmeal for breakfast - do you realize how cheap oatmeal is?! Cereal has become too rich for my blood - 8¢ per meal vs. 50¢? No contest.
(In the interests of full disclosure, for the last few weeks I've discovered that the oatmeal is really good when you make it with milk, so I've been sucking it up and spending the $1.50 for a half gallon each week, thereby having milk for the Mac n Cheese, too.)
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Intermission
Coming to you from the midst of the memo homestretch. This picture was from a car wreck that tied up I-5 for several hours during the morning rush. The paragraph immediately following the picture started: "No one was injured in the three-car accident..."
Yup, looks that way to me.
Yup, looks that way to me.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Microcosm
I stayed on campus late today working, so by the time I left to go home it was about 10:30 pm. My usual (more direct) bus doesn't run that late, so I had to catch two to get home--one east to Hollywood, then one south to my area. I stood at the bus stop waiting for the 2, which at that point only comes every half hour. I was relishing in a couple weather-related things: namely, that I was quite comfortable in a hoodie, jeans and sandals, and that the back of my neck felt a little itchy-rough from reading out in the sun this afternoon. Then I realized the woman at the stop next to me was bundled up in a coat, with her knit hat pulled down and scarf pulled up so only her eyes were showing, shivering and cursing the wait for the bus.
Just as the bus came, I heard an owl. If I had only heard it once, I would have doubted myself, but I heard it again as I was getting on; definitely an owl. Another woman who arrived just as the bus was pulling up heard it too, and we talked for a minute about nothing in particular. She works for the UCLA hospitality services, and takes that bus so often that she usually can time it so she gets to the stop right when it's about to come.
I got off the first bus at Sunset and Vine, and waited for the next one. At that point it was about 11:15, and the next one was due to come shortly after 11:30. While I was waiting, a pseudo-goth chick lit a bunch of papers on fire and threw them in a trash can, then knocked the trash can off the sidewalk and spent a few minutes kicking it around the parking lane on Vine, spreading smoldering flakes of paper everywhere. An old white guy dressed in business-casual type clothes and an old worn fishing hat looked at her, looked at me, and said, very deliberately, "She's craaazy. I think she had something to smoke. If the cops were here, she'd be in jail." When the bus came, the goth chick picked up the now-extinguished garbage can, set it upright on the sidewalk, and threw her fast food garbage into it.
I got off the bus in my neighborhood at around midnight. It was incredibly quiet - aside from very light traffic, the only sound was that of a beautiful solo voice rehearsing a song, coming from the Korean store-front church whose only English language sign says, "Happy Life With Jesus!" It was the first time I'd ever seen any signs of activity at that church--its metal security gate was closed, but the front door inside that was open and light streamed out.
On the walk home, I spent a minute saying hello to and rough-housing with Doggie, the "guard dog" who lives in the parking lot of a tire store near my house. I waved to Armando, the security guard at the place across the street. I can't quite figure out what the place IS, but they have a nighttime security guard who sits outside their door on a metal folding chair at night. In the last block before home, one of a myriad old alarm clocks was busily beeping away in the second hand/junk store.
Just as the bus came, I heard an owl. If I had only heard it once, I would have doubted myself, but I heard it again as I was getting on; definitely an owl. Another woman who arrived just as the bus was pulling up heard it too, and we talked for a minute about nothing in particular. She works for the UCLA hospitality services, and takes that bus so often that she usually can time it so she gets to the stop right when it's about to come.
I got off the first bus at Sunset and Vine, and waited for the next one. At that point it was about 11:15, and the next one was due to come shortly after 11:30. While I was waiting, a pseudo-goth chick lit a bunch of papers on fire and threw them in a trash can, then knocked the trash can off the sidewalk and spent a few minutes kicking it around the parking lane on Vine, spreading smoldering flakes of paper everywhere. An old white guy dressed in business-casual type clothes and an old worn fishing hat looked at her, looked at me, and said, very deliberately, "She's craaazy. I think she had something to smoke. If the cops were here, she'd be in jail." When the bus came, the goth chick picked up the now-extinguished garbage can, set it upright on the sidewalk, and threw her fast food garbage into it.
I got off the bus in my neighborhood at around midnight. It was incredibly quiet - aside from very light traffic, the only sound was that of a beautiful solo voice rehearsing a song, coming from the Korean store-front church whose only English language sign says, "Happy Life With Jesus!" It was the first time I'd ever seen any signs of activity at that church--its metal security gate was closed, but the front door inside that was open and light streamed out.
On the walk home, I spent a minute saying hello to and rough-housing with Doggie, the "guard dog" who lives in the parking lot of a tire store near my house. I waved to Armando, the security guard at the place across the street. I can't quite figure out what the place IS, but they have a nighttime security guard who sits outside their door on a metal folding chair at night. In the last block before home, one of a myriad old alarm clocks was busily beeping away in the second hand/junk store.
Monday, March 2, 2009
People Watching
People tend to have a lot of different impressions about Los Angeles. For some people, LA is Hollywood. (Although not actual Hollywood--the "Hollywood" most people think of is more like Beverly Hills and the Palisades...the real Hollywood is way different.) For some people, LA is smog and traffic. For some people, it's the Dodgers. For some people, it's WeHo and the L Word. For some people, it's Santa Monica and Manhattan Beach.
For me, though, LA is the people.
Not the movie stars, fashionistas, or club goers. For me it's the real people. The draw that a city like this has to pull people of all walks of life from near and far is amazing to me. It's the underbelly of Los Angeles - beneath what dominant American culture sees as the capital of glitz and glamour, is a world of people in the trenches, making LA what it really is.
It's the guys who get paid to stand on street corners, holding big arrows directing prospective renters to apartment complexes, some of them turning sign-holding into an Olympic sport.
It's the community organizers, who breathe life into community-based groups at a rate unlike anything I've seen elsewhere.
It's the guy skating down San Vicente in WeHo, in a cowboy hat, Hawaiian shirt, cutoff jean shorts and old-school roller skates, not just skating down the sidewalk, but skating down the middle of a traffic lane, continually pivoting from front to back to front the whole way.
It's the random group of people who, all independently, have become really great friends with the local guard dog.
It's the street character actors at popular shopping and tourist areas. They are movie characters in Hollywood, and are anything and everything on the Promenade in Santa Monica.
It's the friendly guy with a mohawk who bums cigarettes off of other motorists at stop lights.
It's all the people I ride the bus with, every day. Women toting kids, people obviously toting all their earthly belongings, the people who have gotten to know each other over time just because they always end up commuting on the same bus.
It's the bus driver, who has pulled a double shift that day and, when I talk to her at 6:00 in the evening, tells me she's been driving since 3:00 that morning.
It's the guys working in the carpentry and upholstery shop that I pass when I go home, who are always there working even if I walk by at 10:00 at night.
It's the sheer number of stories and personal histories that I brush with in any given day. It's all the people who have come to LA, for whatever reason, and whether they accomplished what they set out to do or not, have made something out of nothing, and give this massive concrete jungle such vital humanity. I admit, given my previous expectations of LA from popular culture, it is not what I expected.
For me, though, LA is the people.
Not the movie stars, fashionistas, or club goers. For me it's the real people. The draw that a city like this has to pull people of all walks of life from near and far is amazing to me. It's the underbelly of Los Angeles - beneath what dominant American culture sees as the capital of glitz and glamour, is a world of people in the trenches, making LA what it really is.
It's the guys who get paid to stand on street corners, holding big arrows directing prospective renters to apartment complexes, some of them turning sign-holding into an Olympic sport.
It's the community organizers, who breathe life into community-based groups at a rate unlike anything I've seen elsewhere.
It's the guy skating down San Vicente in WeHo, in a cowboy hat, Hawaiian shirt, cutoff jean shorts and old-school roller skates, not just skating down the sidewalk, but skating down the middle of a traffic lane, continually pivoting from front to back to front the whole way.
It's the random group of people who, all independently, have become really great friends with the local guard dog.
It's the street character actors at popular shopping and tourist areas. They are movie characters in Hollywood, and are anything and everything on the Promenade in Santa Monica.
It's the friendly guy with a mohawk who bums cigarettes off of other motorists at stop lights.
It's all the people I ride the bus with, every day. Women toting kids, people obviously toting all their earthly belongings, the people who have gotten to know each other over time just because they always end up commuting on the same bus.
It's the bus driver, who has pulled a double shift that day and, when I talk to her at 6:00 in the evening, tells me she's been driving since 3:00 that morning.
It's the guys working in the carpentry and upholstery shop that I pass when I go home, who are always there working even if I walk by at 10:00 at night.
It's the sheer number of stories and personal histories that I brush with in any given day. It's all the people who have come to LA, for whatever reason, and whether they accomplished what they set out to do or not, have made something out of nothing, and give this massive concrete jungle such vital humanity. I admit, given my previous expectations of LA from popular culture, it is not what I expected.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Summer and San Francisco
Long time, no post. My last post mentioned the ridiculousness of the semester so far, and I'm happy to say the situation has fairly improved, thanks very much to two things - as you may guess from the title, those two things would be summer and San Francisco.
First, with great excitement (and relief) I have my summer internship lined up - woohoo! I'll be working as a law clerk with the National Center for Lesbian Rights (NCLR) which is one of the leading GLBTQ legal organizations. They're based out of San Francisco, but I'll be working with their one attorney who is down here in Los Angeles. Not only does this mean that I no longer have to spend time looking for a job, but it's given me a great infusion of enthusiasm and excitement, which actually started back when I interviewed with them a couple weeks ago (which I didn't have time to post about). First and foremost, it's a fantastic organization to work with. Despite its name, it is one of the most inclusive GLBTQ legal organizations out there. In terms of impact litigation, some organizations can tend to be pretty selective in the cases they take--namely, they take cases that they think will be the best vehicles for the causes they are trying to promote. This is good and worthwhile work, but it leaves people in all the other cases out in the cold. NCLR certainly doesn't take every single thing that comes their way, but their scope is amazingly broad, and they tend to focus more on fighting the fights that need to be fought, rather than those that they want to fight.
I knew going into this process, though, that whatever organization I ended up with would be doing good work. What was more of an amazing surprise for me is that the attorney I'll be working with is transgendered, which is simply amazing beyond words. Nonconformity is not a hugely common characteristic in the legal world, and while the public interest sector is not quite so unforgiving as traditional law firms, the interviewing process was not something I was looking forward to. Then, lo and behold, I'm going in for my first interview, and I'm sitting across the table from a trans lawyer. It was amazing on so many levels. The most obvious was the sense of freedom and relief, knowing that this person would truly be interviewing me, not wondering why I didn't have makeup, why I looked like a 12-year-old boy, why he was interviewing some weird woman in a man's suit. He would see and evaluate me, actually me, not my lack of panty hose. There was also an amazing sense of self validation. I was looking at someone I could identify with, who was in a position I wanted to be in. It was proof positive that it is possible, it can happen.
So that's the summer part of things. It dovetailed nicely with the other half of my recent relief - I got the phone call offering the NCLR position while I was on a train heading to San Francisco two weekends ago with LT. Thanks to cancelled class giving me last Friday off, and Presidents Day giving me Monday off, I had a nice four-day weekend to relax, with no memo due upon my return. LT similarly had Monday off, so she took a vacation day on Friday and we hit the road. Er, we hit the rail. It was really a great weekend, and offered a chance for LT and I to just relax and be together, which we really didn't have a chance to do during the semester break.
As somewhat of a mass transit junkie, it was pretty spectacular. We took Amtrak up there, and spent the weekend wandering pretty much all over the Bay area by transit, from Palo Alto to various parts of San Fran, out to Berkeley, and then back on Amtrak to head back south. We got to sleep a lot almost every night. I got to have some weather and rain (a lot of rain, actually), which I have missed horribly. We got to see a number of LT's friends, all very awesome people. We ate some amazing food - I highly recommend Tartine in the Mission for pastries and coffee, Sausage Factory in the Castro for good Italian (insert gay boy joke here), Celtic Cafe near City Hall, and Barney's in Berkeley for great burgers. Oh, and any running and coffee aficionados should check out Zombie Runner in Palo Alto. I didn't have the coffee there, but one of LT's friends works there and I can attest that the owner is obsessed with having everything they do be the highest quality, so I'm sure it's as good as the store is cool (and the store is pretty damn cool). They have a website, too...though I guess that won't help if what you want is the coffee.
It was my first time up in that area, and I found it to be pretty amazing, and definitely a good bit more in line with my heart than LA is. I've never seen so many bikers and people walking dogs, and types of mass transit all in one place! Oh, and most amazing to me, on Sunday we happened to be near the Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park, and saw a veritable mob of people waiting to get in. We heard one passerby tell their friend that they were at capacity, and wouldn't be admitting people for at least a few hours. We asked someone what was going on that it was so crowded, assuming that there was a special exhibit opening or something. But no, there was no special exhibit. A lot of people in San Francisco just decided that on this random rainy Sunday, they should go to the museum. As a lifelong nerd, this made my heart spectacularly happy.
Oh, and HILLS!! Hooray HILLS!!!! No, not the old defunct department store chain. Living in a hilly area, amazing views, fun topography. I know LA has the surrounding mountains, but let's face it--the parts where everything is are pretty much flat flat flat. And I really don't like flat places so much. Hills are just better.
First, with great excitement (and relief) I have my summer internship lined up - woohoo! I'll be working as a law clerk with the National Center for Lesbian Rights (NCLR) which is one of the leading GLBTQ legal organizations. They're based out of San Francisco, but I'll be working with their one attorney who is down here in Los Angeles. Not only does this mean that I no longer have to spend time looking for a job, but it's given me a great infusion of enthusiasm and excitement, which actually started back when I interviewed with them a couple weeks ago (which I didn't have time to post about). First and foremost, it's a fantastic organization to work with. Despite its name, it is one of the most inclusive GLBTQ legal organizations out there. In terms of impact litigation, some organizations can tend to be pretty selective in the cases they take--namely, they take cases that they think will be the best vehicles for the causes they are trying to promote. This is good and worthwhile work, but it leaves people in all the other cases out in the cold. NCLR certainly doesn't take every single thing that comes their way, but their scope is amazingly broad, and they tend to focus more on fighting the fights that need to be fought, rather than those that they want to fight.
I knew going into this process, though, that whatever organization I ended up with would be doing good work. What was more of an amazing surprise for me is that the attorney I'll be working with is transgendered, which is simply amazing beyond words. Nonconformity is not a hugely common characteristic in the legal world, and while the public interest sector is not quite so unforgiving as traditional law firms, the interviewing process was not something I was looking forward to. Then, lo and behold, I'm going in for my first interview, and I'm sitting across the table from a trans lawyer. It was amazing on so many levels. The most obvious was the sense of freedom and relief, knowing that this person would truly be interviewing me, not wondering why I didn't have makeup, why I looked like a 12-year-old boy, why he was interviewing some weird woman in a man's suit. He would see and evaluate me, actually me, not my lack of panty hose. There was also an amazing sense of self validation. I was looking at someone I could identify with, who was in a position I wanted to be in. It was proof positive that it is possible, it can happen.
So that's the summer part of things. It dovetailed nicely with the other half of my recent relief - I got the phone call offering the NCLR position while I was on a train heading to San Francisco two weekends ago with LT. Thanks to cancelled class giving me last Friday off, and Presidents Day giving me Monday off, I had a nice four-day weekend to relax, with no memo due upon my return. LT similarly had Monday off, so she took a vacation day on Friday and we hit the road. Er, we hit the rail. It was really a great weekend, and offered a chance for LT and I to just relax and be together, which we really didn't have a chance to do during the semester break.
As somewhat of a mass transit junkie, it was pretty spectacular. We took Amtrak up there, and spent the weekend wandering pretty much all over the Bay area by transit, from Palo Alto to various parts of San Fran, out to Berkeley, and then back on Amtrak to head back south. We got to sleep a lot almost every night. I got to have some weather and rain (a lot of rain, actually), which I have missed horribly. We got to see a number of LT's friends, all very awesome people. We ate some amazing food - I highly recommend Tartine in the Mission for pastries and coffee, Sausage Factory in the Castro for good Italian (insert gay boy joke here), Celtic Cafe near City Hall, and Barney's in Berkeley for great burgers. Oh, and any running and coffee aficionados should check out Zombie Runner in Palo Alto. I didn't have the coffee there, but one of LT's friends works there and I can attest that the owner is obsessed with having everything they do be the highest quality, so I'm sure it's as good as the store is cool (and the store is pretty damn cool). They have a website, too...though I guess that won't help if what you want is the coffee.
It was my first time up in that area, and I found it to be pretty amazing, and definitely a good bit more in line with my heart than LA is. I've never seen so many bikers and people walking dogs, and types of mass transit all in one place! Oh, and most amazing to me, on Sunday we happened to be near the Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park, and saw a veritable mob of people waiting to get in. We heard one passerby tell their friend that they were at capacity, and wouldn't be admitting people for at least a few hours. We asked someone what was going on that it was so crowded, assuming that there was a special exhibit opening or something. But no, there was no special exhibit. A lot of people in San Francisco just decided that on this random rainy Sunday, they should go to the museum. As a lifelong nerd, this made my heart spectacularly happy.
Oh, and HILLS!! Hooray HILLS!!!! No, not the old defunct department store chain. Living in a hilly area, amazing views, fun topography. I know LA has the surrounding mountains, but let's face it--the parts where everything is are pretty much flat flat flat. And I really don't like flat places so much. Hills are just better.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Rain, Rain
I'm sitting up in the Tower Reading Room in the library, in a work cubby thing next to a window, listening to and watching a pretty decent rain storm. I can't quite tell if the rain is making me peaceful or a bit melancholy, or maybe it's just putting me into a slower pace, which can lead to a bit of both. Certainly, it's hearkening me back to pre-California times in my life, where sitting and listening to rain was a much more common event than it is out here. And that is certainly an occurence that has upsides and downsides.
The semester has been spectacularly insane. I would say that it's all I can do to keep my head above water, except I don't feel like I am keeping my head above water. In order for me to do everything that school requires right now, I feel like I would have to quite literally cut out ALL non-essential school things...and I just can't do that. So, I'm doing what I can.
Readings have been much heavier this semester than last, and the pace of our legal writing skills papers has been much more brisk. On top of that we're in the midst of job searches for the summer, which is simultaneously exciting, excruciating, stressful, exhilerating, but most of all time consuming. I have four interviews on Saturday (yes, FOUR), and really hope that one of them pans out sooner rather than later, so I can relax on that end. Plus there are scholarships and financial aid for next year to apply for (ugh, FAFSA), and the extra-curricular activities certainly don't cease to exist at this time of year. Extra-curricular, yes. Non-essential to my happiness with law school? Absolutely not.
And I think I'm dating someone, too. I seem to recall this.
That's not to say that things are all bad. Busy? Yes. Stressful? Yes. Constant guilt for all the friends and family that I've not been keeping up correspondence with? Yes. Overloaded brain to the point of becoming stupid in some regards? Yes. But also fulfilled, excited, and still absolutely positive that I made the right choice.
Case in point, the summer job search. Applying to all these different organizations just kicks my brain into high gear at the thought of the myriad worthwhile, positive work I will get to do. It's somewhat anxiety-inducing when I'm thinking of a few certain organizations that I really want to get a position at, but even if those at the top of my list don't pan out, the total picture is like a do-gooder's buffet. I'm extremely confident that no matter what organization I end up at, it will be fulfilling and amazing.
Certainly, way more so than my old basement cube. I might miss the 'Burgh, but not that particular piece of the 'Burgh.
The semester has been spectacularly insane. I would say that it's all I can do to keep my head above water, except I don't feel like I am keeping my head above water. In order for me to do everything that school requires right now, I feel like I would have to quite literally cut out ALL non-essential school things...and I just can't do that. So, I'm doing what I can.
Readings have been much heavier this semester than last, and the pace of our legal writing skills papers has been much more brisk. On top of that we're in the midst of job searches for the summer, which is simultaneously exciting, excruciating, stressful, exhilerating, but most of all time consuming. I have four interviews on Saturday (yes, FOUR), and really hope that one of them pans out sooner rather than later, so I can relax on that end. Plus there are scholarships and financial aid for next year to apply for (ugh, FAFSA), and the extra-curricular activities certainly don't cease to exist at this time of year. Extra-curricular, yes. Non-essential to my happiness with law school? Absolutely not.
And I think I'm dating someone, too. I seem to recall this.
That's not to say that things are all bad. Busy? Yes. Stressful? Yes. Constant guilt for all the friends and family that I've not been keeping up correspondence with? Yes. Overloaded brain to the point of becoming stupid in some regards? Yes. But also fulfilled, excited, and still absolutely positive that I made the right choice.
Case in point, the summer job search. Applying to all these different organizations just kicks my brain into high gear at the thought of the myriad worthwhile, positive work I will get to do. It's somewhat anxiety-inducing when I'm thinking of a few certain organizations that I really want to get a position at, but even if those at the top of my list don't pan out, the total picture is like a do-gooder's buffet. I'm extremely confident that no matter what organization I end up at, it will be fulfilling and amazing.
Certainly, way more so than my old basement cube. I might miss the 'Burgh, but not that particular piece of the 'Burgh.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
What a Difference a Day Makes
I'm writing this post instead of reading for Con Law, but oh well. I went to the New York Times a few minutes ago, and saw that President Obama signed an order today to end secret interrogation techniques and the secret detention system of the CIA, and to close the Guantanamo Bay Detention Center within a year. He also is establishing diplomatic efforts to figure out where to place released detainees. (I originally typed "renewing diplomatic efforts", but you can't renew something that never exactly existed.)
As happy as I've been around Obama's inauguration, and W's departure, it finally hit me with this article: I never really thought about how it would feel to again be a citizen of a nation that acts with some basic integrity towards the larger world. The violations of human rights that we have been perpetrating have been egregious and untenable. If another country systematically did to U.S. citizens what we've been doing to others, we would go to war at the drop of a hat. As crazy as it sounds, it didn't actually sink in that it would end, or how it would feel for it to end.
I'm speechless at the feeling inside me right now. There is relief. There is amazement. There is happy shock. There is, for the first time in a long time, pride. I love my country, and I hate to see it do horrible things. I have always had true admiration and support for the men and women serving our country; for the first time in a long time, I now have some faith in their civilian leaders. I truly understand the hope now - I thought I did before, but the difference between dreaming of hope and actually having it is amazing.
As happy as I've been around Obama's inauguration, and W's departure, it finally hit me with this article: I never really thought about how it would feel to again be a citizen of a nation that acts with some basic integrity towards the larger world. The violations of human rights that we have been perpetrating have been egregious and untenable. If another country systematically did to U.S. citizens what we've been doing to others, we would go to war at the drop of a hat. As crazy as it sounds, it didn't actually sink in that it would end, or how it would feel for it to end.
I'm speechless at the feeling inside me right now. There is relief. There is amazement. There is happy shock. There is, for the first time in a long time, pride. I love my country, and I hate to see it do horrible things. I have always had true admiration and support for the men and women serving our country; for the first time in a long time, I now have some faith in their civilian leaders. I truly understand the hope now - I thought I did before, but the difference between dreaming of hope and actually having it is amazing.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Why We Use Privacy on the Intertubes
True story, not from me (I promise) but from an acquaintance who will remain nameless, in keeping with the theme of this post.
Said acquaintance (hereafter referred to as "AQ") posted a YouTube video, related to gender. (What? I have friends who talk about gender? Shocking.) AQ got a private message reply, asking what AQ's gender was. AQ took this as a teaching moment, and rather than answering, told the person (hereafter refered to as C, for CREEPER) that they might learn more about the whole subject of gender if they examined their reason for being so curious - was it because they couldn't deal with wondering? Did they want to be able to fit AQ into a neat boxy category? Would it bother C if AQ never answered and they never found out?
Well, C mistook the "would it bother you if I never answered" bit in a slightly different light, and began talking about how no, it wouldn't bother them, because it's not like there was any emotional commitment...and then began expounding upon love. Yeah, actually using the "L" word. In the course of part of a day, C sent AQ three messages on YouTube, each one getting progressively more creepy, and the last one clearly being impatient at the lack of a response (all three were sent while AQ was nowhere near the computer). Not quite sure how to respond, AQ didn't.
The next day, AQ got a final message from C, proclaiming that since it had been a full two days that C had not heard from AQ (but could see that AQ had logged on in the meantime), that the best thing C could do was to "move on". The search for that special person in C's life would have to continue, although they had hoped that AQ could be that person.
Creepy. Cree. Py. Creepy.
And this, boys and girls, is why I use initials (even though most of the readers here know full well who is who...except in this post, quite intentionally), and why when you have accounts on places like YouTube, Flikr, Facebook, WhoreSpace, etc., you should REEEEALLLY pay attention to your privacy settings.
Said acquaintance (hereafter referred to as "AQ") posted a YouTube video, related to gender. (What? I have friends who talk about gender? Shocking.) AQ got a private message reply, asking what AQ's gender was. AQ took this as a teaching moment, and rather than answering, told the person (hereafter refered to as C, for CREEPER) that they might learn more about the whole subject of gender if they examined their reason for being so curious - was it because they couldn't deal with wondering? Did they want to be able to fit AQ into a neat boxy category? Would it bother C if AQ never answered and they never found out?
Well, C mistook the "would it bother you if I never answered" bit in a slightly different light, and began talking about how no, it wouldn't bother them, because it's not like there was any emotional commitment...and then began expounding upon love. Yeah, actually using the "L" word. In the course of part of a day, C sent AQ three messages on YouTube, each one getting progressively more creepy, and the last one clearly being impatient at the lack of a response (all three were sent while AQ was nowhere near the computer). Not quite sure how to respond, AQ didn't.
The next day, AQ got a final message from C, proclaiming that since it had been a full two days that C had not heard from AQ (but could see that AQ had logged on in the meantime), that the best thing C could do was to "move on". The search for that special person in C's life would have to continue, although they had hoped that AQ could be that person.
Creepy. Cree. Py. Creepy.
And this, boys and girls, is why I use initials (even though most of the readers here know full well who is who...except in this post, quite intentionally), and why when you have accounts on places like YouTube, Flikr, Facebook, WhoreSpace, etc., you should REEEEALLLY pay attention to your privacy settings.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Gift Horses and Mouths*
The grades from the first semester have been returning. I've gotten the grades for the courses that had final grades--Torts, Criminal Law and Civil Procedure--and later this afternoon will be getting back last semester's paper from Lawyering Skills.
When I took the exams for the three doctrinal courses, I felt incredibly uncertain about Crim, really good about Torts, and pretty decent about Civil Procedure. I've told a lot of people how poorly I thought I did in Crim, and am currently preparing to be made fun of. I want to stress that thinking I did poorly was not the prototypical drama of the attention-hogging smart person who always claims they did poorly but always does well. It's pretty rare in my life that I've left a test thinking I did poorly, and the times I've thought that, I was right. With the Crim exam, it was a pretty objective feeling, knowing there was a lot of stuff I didn't include that needed to be included. In being short on time to prepare, I hadn't taken any practice exams for that class, and in the course of taking the exam I mismanaged my time horribly, spending an inordinate amount of time on one area and leaving myself very shortchanged for the rest of the exam. As a result, time ended before I was able to include a whole slew of things that needed to be included.
I'm kind of torn about the whole thing, because on the one hand I really want to know how on earth my exam merited an A grade. On the other, I'm afraid that if I ask, a mistake will be uncovered either in the professor's grading or in the school's grade entry, and I will really have gotten a C. (It wouldn't be the first time a clerical entry has worked out to my favor; just ask the Rutgers scholarship committee.) Exposing such a mistake would of course be a very ethical thing to do, but...well... Yeah. And from still another point of view, I'm almost afraid to learn that the grade was legitimate, which would mean that this whole thing really is a crap shoot, which is of course what everyone has tried to tell me, but deep down inside I really don't want to believe! Either that, or the future of Criminal Law is very bleak indeed, if so many people really did worse on that exam than I did.
Perhaps in the end it's a matter of some sort karmic gift, for my being willing to jeapordize my performance for the sake of working on Prop 8 over the semester. Yeah, that's it.
* Updated around 4:15 - Having gotten our papers back, we here at UCLA Law have learned that it's much better to get the grade without the raw score (as we do for exams) than it is to get the raw score without the grade (as did for our papers). They've since posted the distribution so we can get a feel for our placement relative to others, but there were many anxious people looking at their scores without any means of getting a bearing.
When I took the exams for the three doctrinal courses, I felt incredibly uncertain about Crim, really good about Torts, and pretty decent about Civil Procedure. I've told a lot of people how poorly I thought I did in Crim, and am currently preparing to be made fun of. I want to stress that thinking I did poorly was not the prototypical drama of the attention-hogging smart person who always claims they did poorly but always does well. It's pretty rare in my life that I've left a test thinking I did poorly, and the times I've thought that, I was right. With the Crim exam, it was a pretty objective feeling, knowing there was a lot of stuff I didn't include that needed to be included. In being short on time to prepare, I hadn't taken any practice exams for that class, and in the course of taking the exam I mismanaged my time horribly, spending an inordinate amount of time on one area and leaving myself very shortchanged for the rest of the exam. As a result, time ended before I was able to include a whole slew of things that needed to be included.
I'm kind of torn about the whole thing, because on the one hand I really want to know how on earth my exam merited an A grade. On the other, I'm afraid that if I ask, a mistake will be uncovered either in the professor's grading or in the school's grade entry, and I will really have gotten a C. (It wouldn't be the first time a clerical entry has worked out to my favor; just ask the Rutgers scholarship committee.) Exposing such a mistake would of course be a very ethical thing to do, but...well... Yeah. And from still another point of view, I'm almost afraid to learn that the grade was legitimate, which would mean that this whole thing really is a crap shoot, which is of course what everyone has tried to tell me, but deep down inside I really don't want to believe! Either that, or the future of Criminal Law is very bleak indeed, if so many people really did worse on that exam than I did.
Perhaps in the end it's a matter of some sort karmic gift, for my being willing to jeapordize my performance for the sake of working on Prop 8 over the semester. Yeah, that's it.
* Updated around 4:15 - Having gotten our papers back, we here at UCLA Law have learned that it's much better to get the grade without the raw score (as we do for exams) than it is to get the raw score without the grade (as did for our papers). They've since posted the distribution so we can get a feel for our placement relative to others, but there were many anxious people looking at their scores without any means of getting a bearing.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Buon' Nuov' Anno!
See, I was nice and I spared all of you the obligatory sappy tranquil holiday posts. Peace, happiness, blah blah blah, same old same old, boring boring boring.
Nah, actually I kinda dig all that stuff. But I have to admit, I totally missed out on the holidays this year. Not because I had flights on both Xmas and New Years (although I did) but because there was neither the time nor the weather. My last final was on the 19th, after which I took a couple days of brain-dead respite, then had to hurriedly catch up on things I fell behind on during the semester, and start looking at the summer job hunt and scholarship applications for next year. Somewhere in there I found what I think were some really fun presents, but I must admit my shopping and present-pondering was much more crammed in than it normally is. And there was not the typical leisurely evening of lovingly wrapping and decorating each present amidst breaks to gaze at the Xmas tree. Nope. I think they all got wrapped in a 15-minute span at around 2 am Xmas morning, so they could be crammed into my luggage and flown east.
And don't even get me started about seeing Xmas tree lots spring up while I'm still wearing shorts, and how much that helped my holiday spirit.
At any rate, it was a good two-week break between semesters. I had a good trip back east, seeing a lot of my well-missed friends and family. It was very strange, being back in Pittsburgh. It's odd how a place can seem so much the same but so different after just under five months. The first thing that struck me was how small it felt. Even the streets felt narrower than I remember. The other thing that struck me, which made me kind of sad, was that I definitely have lost that sense of ownership and intimate belonging that I felt such a short time ago. It was great to see so much that I love, and so many people that I love, but the feeling I had towards the city was very much that of a loving visitor, not of a resident or someone with an existing stake in the place. I guess that's just how it goes when you've naturally fallen out of touch with the daily goings-on of a community, the changes, the ebb and flow of events. It definitely confirmed to me that yes, I have moved away.
On the other hand, though, the feelings I had were also still definitely that of a close connection, love, and appreciation. It wasn't quite like slipping on a glove and having it fit perfectly, but more like pulling on an old hoodie or t-shirt that feels a little weird because it's different from most of your newer clothes, but has a comforting familiarity to it. So, at the same time that it confirmed that I have left the 'Burgh, it also confirmed that I will always love it dearly.
And I would be absolutely remiss if I didn't mention the PEOPLE! It was great to see so many people. I missed one or two that I really wanted to see, but also got to see some who I thought I would miss, a very pleasant surprise. I even got that greatest of time-passers, a quick road trip with MT! Complete with Headstones! I couldn't ask for much more....except perhaps more time with everyone. It's a very new thing for me to think, "A few months ago we used to talk almost every day. Now I have about three hours to sit with you for a meal, and that's all I'll see you for half a year." I'm not quite used to visiting places where I have a number of friends to see--something I'll have to adapt to!
At any rate, it was a good break and a good visit, and I feel like I'm entering the new semester refreshed and rejuvenated. We'll see if I still feel that way in a week or so, when first semester grades are in.
Nah, actually I kinda dig all that stuff. But I have to admit, I totally missed out on the holidays this year. Not because I had flights on both Xmas and New Years (although I did) but because there was neither the time nor the weather. My last final was on the 19th, after which I took a couple days of brain-dead respite, then had to hurriedly catch up on things I fell behind on during the semester, and start looking at the summer job hunt and scholarship applications for next year. Somewhere in there I found what I think were some really fun presents, but I must admit my shopping and present-pondering was much more crammed in than it normally is. And there was not the typical leisurely evening of lovingly wrapping and decorating each present amidst breaks to gaze at the Xmas tree. Nope. I think they all got wrapped in a 15-minute span at around 2 am Xmas morning, so they could be crammed into my luggage and flown east.
And don't even get me started about seeing Xmas tree lots spring up while I'm still wearing shorts, and how much that helped my holiday spirit.
At any rate, it was a good two-week break between semesters. I had a good trip back east, seeing a lot of my well-missed friends and family. It was very strange, being back in Pittsburgh. It's odd how a place can seem so much the same but so different after just under five months. The first thing that struck me was how small it felt. Even the streets felt narrower than I remember. The other thing that struck me, which made me kind of sad, was that I definitely have lost that sense of ownership and intimate belonging that I felt such a short time ago. It was great to see so much that I love, and so many people that I love, but the feeling I had towards the city was very much that of a loving visitor, not of a resident or someone with an existing stake in the place. I guess that's just how it goes when you've naturally fallen out of touch with the daily goings-on of a community, the changes, the ebb and flow of events. It definitely confirmed to me that yes, I have moved away.
On the other hand, though, the feelings I had were also still definitely that of a close connection, love, and appreciation. It wasn't quite like slipping on a glove and having it fit perfectly, but more like pulling on an old hoodie or t-shirt that feels a little weird because it's different from most of your newer clothes, but has a comforting familiarity to it. So, at the same time that it confirmed that I have left the 'Burgh, it also confirmed that I will always love it dearly.
And I would be absolutely remiss if I didn't mention the PEOPLE! It was great to see so many people. I missed one or two that I really wanted to see, but also got to see some who I thought I would miss, a very pleasant surprise. I even got that greatest of time-passers, a quick road trip with MT! Complete with Headstones! I couldn't ask for much more....except perhaps more time with everyone. It's a very new thing for me to think, "A few months ago we used to talk almost every day. Now I have about three hours to sit with you for a meal, and that's all I'll see you for half a year." I'm not quite used to visiting places where I have a number of friends to see--something I'll have to adapt to!
At any rate, it was a good break and a good visit, and I feel like I'm entering the new semester refreshed and rejuvenated. We'll see if I still feel that way in a week or so, when first semester grades are in.
Monday, December 22, 2008
After a Semester
So, Friday afternoon my last final ended, and almost for the first time since I got to LA, I had an extended amount of time where I didn't have to be somewhere, reading something, meeting someone, etc. All the brief times that I've had respite over the last four months, my head has been stuffed full of thinking about all the things I did have to go do. So, this is the first time that I've actually taken a deep breath, and thought about and realized what the hell I've been up to these months.
Holy SHIT, I moved to Los Angeles.
Last night, I was at a going away party for a friend I met through the No on Prop 8 campaign. He landed a job on Capitol Hill in DC--very great for him, very bittersweet for those of us here in LA who will miss him. I was talking to LT about him leaving, and it struck me that this felt very different from all the comings and goings that I've seen in LT's circle of friends, folks beginning to establish their lives coming out of college. In those cases, it's still sad, but it's expected and known. People go into the four years knowing that after they graduate, all bets are off.
It feels like such a different thing when you've been established in a permanent life somewhere. You don't meet people with an eye towards shipping off soon. You live there. It's home. You make strong friendships that become tested by time, joy and sadness. Then suddenly, either someone you know is packing up, or you are. If you're the one staying, it's the shock of cold water when you suddenly learn that a piece of your life is leaving. If you're the one going, it's a mixture of fear, excitement at whatever opportunity you're following, sadness, and....guilt. The self-deprecating side of me wants to say it's egotistical to feel that, but I do know that people miss me and, while happy for me, are sad that I'm so far away. And, when you know that you've made people you care about sad, well...in a way leaving feels like breaking some promise, some trust.
I want all you eastern people in my life to know that I really miss you all. I'm happy in school, and I know I made the right decision. I've met fantastic people out here, and begun making great friends. And I know that modern communication helps make distances seem smaller, and heck, I know that I never even lived in the same city as some of you anyhow. But, I also know, from knowing how much I miss you guys, that no amount of electronic gadgetry can completely erase the distance, or completely replace a breakfast, a toast, or a hug.
Holy SHIT, I moved to Los Angeles.
Last night, I was at a going away party for a friend I met through the No on Prop 8 campaign. He landed a job on Capitol Hill in DC--very great for him, very bittersweet for those of us here in LA who will miss him. I was talking to LT about him leaving, and it struck me that this felt very different from all the comings and goings that I've seen in LT's circle of friends, folks beginning to establish their lives coming out of college. In those cases, it's still sad, but it's expected and known. People go into the four years knowing that after they graduate, all bets are off.
It feels like such a different thing when you've been established in a permanent life somewhere. You don't meet people with an eye towards shipping off soon. You live there. It's home. You make strong friendships that become tested by time, joy and sadness. Then suddenly, either someone you know is packing up, or you are. If you're the one staying, it's the shock of cold water when you suddenly learn that a piece of your life is leaving. If you're the one going, it's a mixture of fear, excitement at whatever opportunity you're following, sadness, and....guilt. The self-deprecating side of me wants to say it's egotistical to feel that, but I do know that people miss me and, while happy for me, are sad that I'm so far away. And, when you know that you've made people you care about sad, well...in a way leaving feels like breaking some promise, some trust.
I want all you eastern people in my life to know that I really miss you all. I'm happy in school, and I know I made the right decision. I've met fantastic people out here, and begun making great friends. And I know that modern communication helps make distances seem smaller, and heck, I know that I never even lived in the same city as some of you anyhow. But, I also know, from knowing how much I miss you guys, that no amount of electronic gadgetry can completely erase the distance, or completely replace a breakfast, a toast, or a hug.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Huzzah!
Well, it finally happened -- 40 minutes ago I finished my last final of the semester, and the beginning of my law school career was officially in the books! I'm currently waiting for the bus, and thought I'd take this moment still within reach of UCLA's wireless to jot down a quick note.
It's funny, how stress builds up to a boiling point without you even realizing it, like the proverbial frog in water. I knew I had been feeling stress all semester, between school and the campaign, and I certainly knew that stress mounted as the semester wound down, between final papers, exams, and constantly dealing with fallout from the campaign, as well as attempting to piece together my own gender identity.
I definitely felt moments where the stress hit hard. Particularly, after my first final which I don't think I did very well on. Having your first final not go well is rough--I had a decent crisis of confidence, and momentarily became convinced that through the time spent on the campaign I had painted myself into an inescapable corner. I didn't regret that, but it was still hard feeling that way. I did eventually recover, and my last two finals went much better--I learned a lot about how to best prepare for an exam under sub-optimal conditions!
But, that one-day crisis aside, I didn't realize just how much stress and pressure had built up until after my last final. It was like the opposite of losing 50 pounds gradually, then suddenly hoisting a 50 lb. pack and realizing just how much weight you're not carrying around anymore. It gradually built up, insidious strain by insidious strain. Then suddenly....whoooosh! Freedom! I lost 50 lbs all over again!
Oh yeah, and I'm also surprised by the sense of accomplishment. I went along this whole time knowing in my head that law school is a tough thing, but not feeling like in and of itself it's a congratulatory event. The result-driven side of me thinks, "Well, congratulate me when we see how I did!" But regardless how I did, I do feel a significant sense of accomplishment. I still can't quite understand why, but it's nice!
And so, my task for this weekend is getting back in touch with all you beautiful folks who I have neglected for the last month, and planning my trip back east!
It's funny, how stress builds up to a boiling point without you even realizing it, like the proverbial frog in water. I knew I had been feeling stress all semester, between school and the campaign, and I certainly knew that stress mounted as the semester wound down, between final papers, exams, and constantly dealing with fallout from the campaign, as well as attempting to piece together my own gender identity.
I definitely felt moments where the stress hit hard. Particularly, after my first final which I don't think I did very well on. Having your first final not go well is rough--I had a decent crisis of confidence, and momentarily became convinced that through the time spent on the campaign I had painted myself into an inescapable corner. I didn't regret that, but it was still hard feeling that way. I did eventually recover, and my last two finals went much better--I learned a lot about how to best prepare for an exam under sub-optimal conditions!
But, that one-day crisis aside, I didn't realize just how much stress and pressure had built up until after my last final. It was like the opposite of losing 50 pounds gradually, then suddenly hoisting a 50 lb. pack and realizing just how much weight you're not carrying around anymore. It gradually built up, insidious strain by insidious strain. Then suddenly....whoooosh! Freedom! I lost 50 lbs all over again!
Oh yeah, and I'm also surprised by the sense of accomplishment. I went along this whole time knowing in my head that law school is a tough thing, but not feeling like in and of itself it's a congratulatory event. The result-driven side of me thinks, "Well, congratulate me when we see how I did!" But regardless how I did, I do feel a significant sense of accomplishment. I still can't quite understand why, but it's nice!
And so, my task for this weekend is getting back in touch with all you beautiful folks who I have neglected for the last month, and planning my trip back east!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Things I've Learned During My First Law School Finals Period
- It's really cruel that the greatest learning resource and the greatest source of procrastination are found in the same place, namely your laptop.
- I work a lot better with headphones, rather than just music playing from speakers.
- I don't work at all if there's no noise.
- I don't regret the decisions I made through the course of the semester to work on the No on 8 campaign as much as I did.
- That being said, those decisions are probably going to affect my grades.
- When crunched for time, practice exams are way more important than memorizing more minutiae. Minutiae do you no good when you run out of time to write them down.
- The keycode to get into the bathroom at the Starbucks at Pico and Rimpeau is 1-2-3-4. Omar the barista told it to me.
- I'm eight years older than when I graduated from college, and I can't get away with hardly any sleep like I used to.
- This needing-to-sleep thing is VERY inconvenient.
- Sometimes, other people's past outlines just suck.
- Someone will look at my outline down the road and think it sucks.
- Buying the spring semester books during the fall semester finals period gives you first dibs on finding the used books in the best shape.
- This law school shit is hard!
- No matter how you feel about how you did on the exam, you have absolutely no way of knowing how your exam rates in the larger context of everyone else's exams.
- The Pens win if I listen to them online while I'm at the dining room table, but not if I listen to them online while I'm on the couch.
- Law school exams are the first time I've truly felt mentally hit by an A-bomb after a test.
- I work a lot better with headphones, rather than just music playing from speakers.
- I don't work at all if there's no noise.
- I don't regret the decisions I made through the course of the semester to work on the No on 8 campaign as much as I did.
- That being said, those decisions are probably going to affect my grades.
- When crunched for time, practice exams are way more important than memorizing more minutiae. Minutiae do you no good when you run out of time to write them down.
- The keycode to get into the bathroom at the Starbucks at Pico and Rimpeau is 1-2-3-4. Omar the barista told it to me.
- I'm eight years older than when I graduated from college, and I can't get away with hardly any sleep like I used to.
- This needing-to-sleep thing is VERY inconvenient.
- Sometimes, other people's past outlines just suck.
- Someone will look at my outline down the road and think it sucks.
- Buying the spring semester books during the fall semester finals period gives you first dibs on finding the used books in the best shape.
- This law school shit is hard!
- No matter how you feel about how you did on the exam, you have absolutely no way of knowing how your exam rates in the larger context of everyone else's exams.
- The Pens win if I listen to them online while I'm at the dining room table, but not if I listen to them online while I'm on the couch.
- Law school exams are the first time I've truly felt mentally hit by an A-bomb after a test.
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