7.26.2005

tuesday blues

I’m having a little bit of a positive affirmation problem this morning. School is making me unreasonably tired. I’m sleeping more then usual but the length of time in school is dragging on me. I think that summer school was a bad idea.

There are plenty of things to be happy about. I did very well on my labor arbitration brief, even if Abrams finds my use of commas idiosyncratic. As much of a pain in the ass moving is, as much as it seems like an ill timed ridiculous idea, it will be very nice to live somewhere else. Sanni doesn’t know it yet but her *SODOMY ROCKS* teeshirt came in the mail today, save pussy came last week. I think I’m going to go see hamlet outdoors on Wednesday night, and tonight I get to meet Amanda’s mom and aunt for dinner. Classes are going well. Even if I am a little behind. It’s a simple matter of moving forward and keeping pace, there are two weeks left. And if I get a corporations outline together this week, there is no reason I couldn’t throw a juvie courts one over the weekend and then spend next week polishing someone else’s evidence.

Oh! And even though it hurts, Brazilian Tuesday is great news. maybe some belle and sebastian and chocolate milk are in order. sanni and i keep eating crap at ABP justified by stress. but crumbcake will kill me or i will kill myself when my jeans don't fit.


But the all time best reason for staying positive is:

Post knee surgery sanni and I are going to finally go panhandling. She’s going to pretend to be blind, and I’ll use crutches and pain killers to enhance my street credibility. (now as everyone knows, you need a good gimmick to rock to make panhandling profitable, you CANNOT market pity, and no one believes you.)

We’re going to make a sign of cardboard, that says:

HELP FUND OUR MALPRACTICE SUIT!!!

That’s a moneymaker baby. xoxo

7.24.2005

I’m having trouble concentrating. I’m at school and I promised myself 6 solid hours of work, after all it is Sunday and 6 hours is a lot of hours for a non workweekday. But I’m failing to concentrate on my statutory exculpatory provisions.

I’m moving this weekend to Cambridge. My new address, you stalker you, is 251 Pearl St, Apartment 3. Cambridge MA, 02139. pretty fun. But I’m going to be unsupervised (roommate-less) in the apartment for two weeks before other people start moving in and I’m kind of scared to live alone. But I also have finals in two weeks. So maybe some uninterrupted study time will do me good. We signed the lease on Thursday. And I am so happy to be done with our schizophrenic unstable wildebeest of rental agent. She’s also an ungrateful bitch. And she’s crazy, did I mention crazy? (Note: my mom found her crazy as well. But my mom, bless her soul, also thought Mari was a lesbian. Not that that explains anything, except, of course, that my mom misattributes the roots of insanity…)

My parents were here all weekend. Was lovely to see them. Besides one little argument over whether I needed an air conditioner, some alarm regarding my wastefulness in not returning kegs on time, and one NASTY fight about Mari the dumb rental agent, we had a lovely time. Hard to explain how much I miss them. And how odd it is that they regard me as all grown up and all on my own. They also conceded that, if I were willignto pay rent and have a job, they would let me move home, even if I decided not to be a lawyer. Which is more supportive than I anticipated. Not that I’m thinking about bailing out. I had just wondered recently, “if push came to shove, what could I do? Do I still have a safety net? Or is it hitchhiking and prostitution by default?”

They also brought up the new lap top my insurance policy bought me. YAY BABY LAPTOP. <3 <3 xoxox. Super super cute, but hard to type on. I’m also experiencing a lot of anxiety about her being stolen… I can’t imagine why.

I finished the sixth potter book last week. Funny thing about potter. It makes me miss you know who more than I should. But everything makes me miss everything these days. And I’m quickly settling on the idea that nostalgia, though fuzzy and soft and good for rainly days, is almost completely without use. I am not who I was, and I am unlikely to ever be the person, with uninterrupted irresponsibility, that I was in college and high school. And my life now, is not an albatross, or a heavy heavy cross. It’s just my life. And lemonade, chin up, and no pits. Right?

7.19.2005

i miss music.

I’ve got a new growing concern.

A friend of a friend, SaNni’s xbf Ryan specifically, observed, last week that I have a kind of condescending attitude. And he thinks that law school has exasperated the situation. And I’m kind of beginning to think he’s correct. Look, I’ll ruminate on paper, at length.

If you ask me to tell you about me, the first thing I tell you I do is “go to law school.” The first thing I tell you am is, “in law school.” And it’s time consuming, but is it everything I am? Or did it just become who I am, completely at some point. And what sort of monster would I be if I went to Harvard? I’ll write a little play about it:

waitress: did you decide what you want to order?
ME: ME? I go to HARVARD LAW SCHOOL. HARVARD. Have you heard of it?

~FINI~

And it’s time consuming so it makes sense that it’s central. And it’s why I live here. And what I do instead of working or having hobbies. So I think I get it. But:

Is it the first thing I say because I’m asserting something about myself? About my level of education? About my proclivity to pick apart things you say? I always regarded the whole law school student zombie transformation thing with a little shame…. It is something bad and mindless, and not something I wanted to happen to me. But since I’ve clawed my way this far, with minimal effort, am I experiencing pride? Unhealthy down the bridge of my nose pride? And do I really have anything to be proud of? In my mediocrity?

7.18.2005

dickens

i'm becoming increasingly concerned that i'm not who i think i am. and in all likely hood this is an imagined existential crisis. any sort of definite "self" is imagined. you can't know yourself, really. and no one really knows you either. all the hyped up importance of knowing "who you are" is just a byproduct of our self obsessed cult of individualism.

and the cultish-ness is everywhere in EVERYTHING we do, and watch and say.

and that's all well and good. BUT, i don't really want to be a self absorbed little media/socially designed monkey. but why don’t I want to be a little robot, a little soldier of ME? BECAUSE I BELIEVE I'M somehow unique! so it's too late. circle complete.

i finally changed the signature on my email, from "truth is plural" to "there are many forms of stupidity and cleverness is the worst." what no one understands about email signatures is that they aren't conversation starters. they're particular fixations. one would not, you specifically, believe how many people have written back to me when my signature was, "truth is plural" to express their PROFOUND belief that 1. truth is not plural (you're wrong asshole, it's about perspective, it has to be plural.) or 2. that shouldn't it be "truths are plural?" (wouldn't it be ridiculous to point out the plurality of a already plural word? asstard.)

anyway, evidence is cancelled today. so my usual 5:30 to 7:30 time block is goign to be spent suit shopping at the pru. YAY. suits.

my parents are in on Thursday afternoon, and i'm looking forward to seeing them profoundly. possibly because it's been almost 5 months with no arguing except over the phone. shame shame.

with love, pointlessly and irritatingly yours.

7.05.2005

And tango makes 3!

One can literally tell when school’s heating up for me, because I start to post (read: avoid work) more enthusiastically. I’m trapped in the library writing a last minute paper about teen sexual rights in Massachusetts. And I can’t leave because “they” stole my computer. (See earlier post.)

this is a link for the bio of the guy i'm working for in September, (just fyi):
http://www.jtbf.org/article_iii_judges/giles_j.htm

Chuck bought a car (yesterday). A NEW car. I read somewhere once that new cars are the worst investment that you can EVER make, because of how quickly they depreciate in value. Plus, your angry/jealous friend might shoot at/ throw a shopping cart at/ leave gummy lifesavers all over the interior of your car. You never know. But I guess the chuck-car thing gets me twice. 1. When the hell did chuck become an adult who owns a Saab?!?! 2. why am i STILL a kidlet?!?!

ciao bella! back to the children's sexual rights mines!!

7.04.2005

This PSA was brought to you by the local hoodlums in my neighborhood, Allston.

On Tuesday morning at 3:30 am my apartment was broken in to by god knows who, while I was sleeping. They left with essentially everything I own of value: laptop, digital camera, purse, flash drive expensive new jeans (wtf!?!), essential-to-academic-success-glasses. The immediate effect is that I’m trying out a new more Zen lifestyle. As in, I’m so high minded, I don’t need “things.” The secondary effect is that I’m reeling. As in, wow, enter at will, take what you need and use it to buy crack. Leave me feeling helpless and unsafe. And do it in a college-y neighborhood. Take it from your peers.

Is it fair to characterize all robbers as drug addicts? Are all thieves just people who prey on good fortune for an easy high? Probably not. But does it matter why you steal? Or from whom? And why is my karma so fucking bad?

I went to the cape on Thursday to decompress for a few days with merissa’s family. Which was lovely. I love her (and her family). And the end result is that I’m feeling a little more grounded, and a lot more tan.

School is ass. ASS ASS ASS. Just a lot of work. This summer was supposed to be so, so wonderful. And it’s just feeling really really awful. I have a dentist appointment this week, where I will be told that I have 43785 cavities. And then I will have to have all of my teeth removed. And then I will have dentures. And the only upside I can think of dentures revolves around a story john hunter once told me about a friend of his who has dentures AND an oral sex move she calls “the gummer.” It doesn’t sound fun to keep your teeth in a glass of water next to your bed, but I’m sure it can be. NOTE: I don’t actually tin I have any cavities.

IN other exciting news. This September I will be spending 11 weeks in Philadelphia!! Working as a judical clerk for the US district Court of Eastern PA, for Chief Judge James Giles. Wonderful wonderful opportunity. Guaranteed QT with kirschykins and sarah iller. And perhaps a much needed rest from Boston, a city hell bent on breaking my heart.

In other exciting news. I’m getting a new ACL!! Woooooooooooooo! Yes, after 3 year break, the “repair jenni’s knee from that time she played rugby” project will resume on August 16. so if you want to visit Boston while I’m bed ridden and in a WORSE mood than usual, please buy your tickets today.

Back to my paper about teen sexual rights in Massachusetts. The age of consent is 16, in case you’re hanging around a playground looking fro some play of your own. Wink wink. Massachusetes: where 16 REALLY WILL get you 20 (years).

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