it occurred to me this weekend. it snuck up like a well-trained agent - all cloaked in darkness and hidden away in the smallest space with the smallest peep hole made for people just like that agent.
it occurred to me that i don't live there anymore. my mother said calmly that she needed to buy a rug for my bedroom. my bedroom in saint louis. the one painted the perfect shade of green like late summer grass and perfectly perfect white trim around the windows. the one with my great-grandmother's furniture inside. and i replied, "yes. a rug in that open room would be nice." and then. then. then i said, calmly and without a hitch, "it would make such a nice guest bedroom."
oh dear god. how did i get this old? how did this happen? at what moment did my brain decide that that room was suitable for a guest bedroom? and a guest bedroom that i would sleep in when i go to my parents' house as a guest.
that room, though, is like stepping back into days i have left behind to yellow in their aging. the most recent framed picture was taken my junior year of high school. you can see the look of uncertainty behind all of our smiling faces as we prepared for one last year of high school leading to the rest of lives. leading to the moment when our bedrooms became more suitable for guests.
bruce springsteen and his greatest fan.
i'm going to see springsteen this weekend. the bruce springsteen. the BOSS. my mom is taking me, which is going to great. this woman loved bruce before anyone knew who he was and has followed his career like a disciple.
i keep remembering something one of my high school teachers said to me. i was - for some unknown reason - telling her that my mom had gone to the springsteen concert over the weekend. and she smiled and said, "i went, too. but i fell asleep."
asleep? asleep? ASLEEP?! who falls asleep when they go to see bruce? there are only a handful of times in my life when i have been more offended. (one of which was when someone doubted that lucinda williams is one of the most talented musicians performing today. but i don't want to get into that. bad memories.)
my parents raised my brother and me with the help of bruce springsteen. (and john mellencamp. and eric clapton. and the stones. and the alman brothers [who i though were the almond brothers when i was small]. and tom petty. and crosby, stills, nash, and young.) these musicians are the bedrock of my deep, aching love for music. i knew all the words to "jack and diane" and "born to run" by the time i was five. my brother's favorite song as a toddler was "motherless children" by eric clapton. (which is, i think, pretty funny.) it was a rare occassion that my mother was forced to play wee-sing or other cassettes of children's songs. we were all about the rock n' roll.
we danced in the nude to rod stewart's "motown song" and when that disc was stolen out of my mom's car, the first priority was getting another copy. those are some of my most cherished childhood memories - car rides singing along with bruce, john, rod, and eric. these men made me want to be a musician. i demanded that my mom confirm my ability to sing nearly every day. and as the wonderful woman that she is, she obligingly told me i was a great singer. (needless to say, that pipe dream was set aside when i learned that while i could make singing noises, anything that resembled a key was out of the question.)
listening to that music now transports me back to a time when i lived with a total sense of abandon. when choreographing dances and singing off key at the top of your lungs anyway and everywhere was entirely acceptable. and if it wasn't acceptable, who rightly cares?
so falling alseep on sunday? totally out of the question.
i keep remembering something one of my high school teachers said to me. i was - for some unknown reason - telling her that my mom had gone to the springsteen concert over the weekend. and she smiled and said, "i went, too. but i fell asleep."
asleep? asleep? ASLEEP?! who falls asleep when they go to see bruce? there are only a handful of times in my life when i have been more offended. (one of which was when someone doubted that lucinda williams is one of the most talented musicians performing today. but i don't want to get into that. bad memories.)
my parents raised my brother and me with the help of bruce springsteen. (and john mellencamp. and eric clapton. and the stones. and the alman brothers [who i though were the almond brothers when i was small]. and tom petty. and crosby, stills, nash, and young.) these musicians are the bedrock of my deep, aching love for music. i knew all the words to "jack and diane" and "born to run" by the time i was five. my brother's favorite song as a toddler was "motherless children" by eric clapton. (which is, i think, pretty funny.) it was a rare occassion that my mother was forced to play wee-sing or other cassettes of children's songs. we were all about the rock n' roll.
we danced in the nude to rod stewart's "motown song" and when that disc was stolen out of my mom's car, the first priority was getting another copy. those are some of my most cherished childhood memories - car rides singing along with bruce, john, rod, and eric. these men made me want to be a musician. i demanded that my mom confirm my ability to sing nearly every day. and as the wonderful woman that she is, she obligingly told me i was a great singer. (needless to say, that pipe dream was set aside when i learned that while i could make singing noises, anything that resembled a key was out of the question.)
listening to that music now transports me back to a time when i lived with a total sense of abandon. when choreographing dances and singing off key at the top of your lungs anyway and everywhere was entirely acceptable. and if it wasn't acceptable, who rightly cares?
so falling alseep on sunday? totally out of the question.
not so bad.
they said, "tell all your friends, your family, your significant other - tell them that you are going into hyper drive for the next six weeks. tell them you won't be able to talk to them as much." i'm certain my eyes became perfect saucers because the leader of the session nodded in my direction. i'm not sure if he was admonishing my disbelief and affirming my fear or attempting to tell me that it would all be okay.
either way, i left my session on taking exams (essay and short answer) wondering how in the world they think i am supposed to get through this mess of exams and cramming and the constant state of imminent tears without them - my friends, family, significant other. i dutifully returned to outlining my contracts class with a newly burning fire fueling my work ethic. please note: the fire has subsided and i am now blogging to avoid my contracts outline.
i'm through the second page our syllabus (which is, by the way 5.5 pages in length) and my outline is about thirty pages. it's taken me probably 24+ hours to get this far. at this rate, i should be finished by mid-january just in time for next round of 1L classes. they teach us that the law is objective, reasonable. it is not subjective. well, objectively speaking, this is a tad unreasonable.
nevertheless, i push on and relish the moments of utter delight when something clicks in my brain and the handful of cases that made no sense come falling right into place. i enjoy the solitude of working spread out in the library, pouring over textbooks way too large and the satisfaction that comes with knowing the answer to a professor's question (even when i don't get called on). for the most part, it's not as bad as they say. but i'll get back to you in a month.
either way, i left my session on taking exams (essay and short answer) wondering how in the world they think i am supposed to get through this mess of exams and cramming and the constant state of imminent tears without them - my friends, family, significant other. i dutifully returned to outlining my contracts class with a newly burning fire fueling my work ethic. please note: the fire has subsided and i am now blogging to avoid my contracts outline.
i'm through the second page our syllabus (which is, by the way 5.5 pages in length) and my outline is about thirty pages. it's taken me probably 24+ hours to get this far. at this rate, i should be finished by mid-january just in time for next round of 1L classes. they teach us that the law is objective, reasonable. it is not subjective. well, objectively speaking, this is a tad unreasonable.
nevertheless, i push on and relish the moments of utter delight when something clicks in my brain and the handful of cases that made no sense come falling right into place. i enjoy the solitude of working spread out in the library, pouring over textbooks way too large and the satisfaction that comes with knowing the answer to a professor's question (even when i don't get called on). for the most part, it's not as bad as they say. but i'll get back to you in a month.
giving good blog.
as the ever-wise catherine connors (herbadmother) explains it:
give good blog:
in my contracts class, my professor suggested that we take any of our older/ too small/ too big/ not so fond of winter wear to a local charity that will ensure that the homeless are equipped for milwaukee's winter. such a simple, simple act. yet we forget.
when my brother and i are were small, we had to prepare for christmas. after all, everything that santa brought us consisted of toys and games and dolls (even for my brother thanks to my parents' awesomeness!). so we went through all of our toys and games and dolls and decided what we didn't play with anymore. we made sure they had all the parts and were clean and nice and took them to family shelter. what's more, even when my parents struggled to give us the most magical christmas, they made sure we could take toys into school to donate to our class' adopted family. often, we fo und that picking out toys for other kids was just as, if not more, fun than getting our own. (again, parents = awesome.)
of course, i lay no claim to not falling straight into the delicious, fragrant trap of consumerism. i have lots of stuff. i love clothes too much. and i have a weakness for vintage and handmade home decor (hello, etsy.com!).
but i've also found that the simplest, easiest thing you can ever do is to smile. i smile at every person i pass. in the halls, on the street. every single one. and you know what? 98% of the time they smile right back at me. for me, it's a reminder of humanity and connectedness. it's my own little manifestation of spirituali ty. and i hope for those people that it's a reminder that even as our lives seem so remote, so far away from a s tranger's, that they're not.
it's not a bi g thing. it's not anything i could put on my resumé. but it's simple. and small. and the smallest things can, added all together, make an actual difference.
give good blog:
noun. 1. a commitment, made by online writers and other participants in virtual communities, to principles of good virtual citizenship and to actions reflecting same; a commitment to the use of social media to advance social good, whether by raising awareness of a specific issue, or raising money for a cause, or simply using blogs and/or other social media platform to remind self and others to strive to make some little difference by whatever means available.
verb. 1. online activities that adhere to and reflect this commitment.
i won't kid myself into thinking that my blog is read often and by people outside my circle of friends and family. but someday, maybe, it will be. (because let's all be honest - life as a 1L can be pretty hilarious. and utterly awful. it makes for good stories, anyhow.) regardless of my readership (or lack thereof), it doesn't mean that i shouldn't give good blog. let's be honest. we're stampeding ahead to 2010. the holiday season is drawing close. (don't get me started on the fact that i went to macy's the other day and they ALREADY had christmas decorations up. i celebrate christmas and i find it an affront to my moral fortitude. and good taste. it's not even halloween, people. let's slooooow down.) it's time to really focus on what matters. we americans will have thanksgiving. then christmas (or hanukkah or kwanzaa or solstice or any other number of celebrations about hope, renewal, and faith). then new year's. and then we'll be flung back in to a january where we resume our lives. so we should pause, for just a moment, to think about what other people might need this time of year.in my contracts class, my professor suggested that we take any of our older/ too small/ too big/ not so fond of winter wear to a local charity that will ensure that the homeless are equipped for milwaukee's winter. such a simple, simple act. yet we forget.
when my brother and i are were small, we had to prepare for christmas. after all, everything that santa brought us consisted of toys and games and dolls (even for my brother thanks to my parents' awesomeness!). so we went through all of our toys and games and dolls and decided what we didn't play with anymore. we made sure they had all the parts and were clean and nice and took them to family shelter. what's more, even when my parents struggled to give us the most magical christmas, they made sure we could take toys into school to donate to our class' adopted family. often, we fo und that picking out toys for other kids was just as, if not more, fun than getting our own. (again, parents = awesome.)
of course, i lay no claim to not falling straight into the delicious, fragrant trap of consumerism. i have lots of stuff. i love clothes too much. and i have a weakness for vintage and handmade home decor (hello, etsy.com!).
but i've also found that the simplest, easiest thing you can ever do is to smile. i smile at every person i pass. in the halls, on the street. every single one. and you know what? 98% of the time they smile right back at me. for me, it's a reminder of humanity and connectedness. it's my own little manifestation of spirituali ty. and i hope for those people that it's a reminder that even as our lives seem so remote, so far away from a s tranger's, that they're not.
it's not a bi g thing. it's not anything i could put on my resumé. but it's simple. and small. and the smallest things can, added all together, make an actual difference.
not tonight.
i'm supposed to be reading for contracts. i'm supposed to be reading about determining the scope and content of obligations and the "parol evidence rule." but i'm not. i'm relishing this moment of quiet. sirius is curled on my feet, pandora effortlessly pumping out my favorite combination of music, incense burning on my coffee table, and a lovely cup of tea is to my right. my phone isn't ringing, the tv's not on (even on silent), and my neighborhood seems comfortable settling into this dark evening.
i love fall. i was convinced we had skipped it entirely here in milwaukee. we dove head first into 38º from the high 60s. luckily, fall came back for me. the leaves are changing and much to my delight, they often fall right onto an unsuspecting puppy who quickly readies to attack whatever has affronted him. my street is missing underneath a blanket of leaves that even passing cars can't throw off.
i love fall. it's a long-lasting affair and i have no intentions of ending it soon. or ever. we have a special bond made over camp fires and apple cider and field hockey kilts and the simple joy of a new backpack for school. it's return has helped to quell the consistently growing fear that i, in fact, have been in law school for almost eight weeks and have absolutely no idea how i'm doing or if what i am doing is enough or what enough actually is.
but tonight, i'm not going to let it worry me. not tonight.
i love fall. i was convinced we had skipped it entirely here in milwaukee. we dove head first into 38º from the high 60s. luckily, fall came back for me. the leaves are changing and much to my delight, they often fall right onto an unsuspecting puppy who quickly readies to attack whatever has affronted him. my street is missing underneath a blanket of leaves that even passing cars can't throw off.
i love fall. it's a long-lasting affair and i have no intentions of ending it soon. or ever. we have a special bond made over camp fires and apple cider and field hockey kilts and the simple joy of a new backpack for school. it's return has helped to quell the consistently growing fear that i, in fact, have been in law school for almost eight weeks and have absolutely no idea how i'm doing or if what i am doing is enough or what enough actually is.
but tonight, i'm not going to let it worry me. not tonight.
let's talk.
here's something my criminal law professor said in class yesterday: "you know, they put the theft chapter in the very back of the book because no one ever teaches it. most people spend time on 'more interesting' crimes, like sexual assault. but i don't want people to be uncomfortable."
seriously? yup.
and i know, just know, that he didn't mean it like that. he worked for over a decade as a special prosecutor for sex crimes in milwaukee. he made a great impression on me when he called a supreme court justice a "blithering fool" for saying "mrs. x wasn't harmed. she was only raped." i like this man. a lot.
i know (hope, hope, hope) what he meant was that he knows how hard it is to talk about. and that statistically, at least five people in the class have experienced sexual assault. and who wants to put a bunch of frightened, over-worked, under-estimated, hanging by a thread 1Ls in that position?
but i spent my entire career as an undergrad fighting this mentality. we have to, have to, have to talk about it. if you're not ready to share your story, that's, of course, okay. it's more than okay. but as long as we don't talk about the fact that our mothers, daughters, aunts, cousins, friends, sisters, neices, granddaughters, step-sisters, teachers, employees, students (and everyone else i didn't mention) are being raped, it will continue to happen.
(window paint during v-week.)
i learned too late that rape isn't about sex. it's not about sex at all. it's about power. we take some of that power away every time we talk about it.
in four years, i got to watch a campus tucked in the South, veiled in a cloth of politeness and avoidance, transform into a place where people talked and people listened. we re-wrote the sexual assault and harassment policy. we put on programs that involved men and women, upper and lower classmen. we got people to pay attention to rape. to sexual harassment. to molestation. because silence, my friends, cures nothing. the sheer act of talking about rape, of raising voices and consciousnesses, undermines what is nothing less than a rape culture.
so let's talk. it doesn't have to be rushed or slow or drawn out or panicked or shameful. but let's talk. let's not avoid the topic in criminal law classes because it might make someone uncomfortable. (because, honestly, i would be uncomfortable. but i want to know.)
(The Vagina Monologues cast.)
seriously? yup.
and i know, just know, that he didn't mean it like that. he worked for over a decade as a special prosecutor for sex crimes in milwaukee. he made a great impression on me when he called a supreme court justice a "blithering fool" for saying "mrs. x wasn't harmed. she was only raped." i like this man. a lot.
i know (hope, hope, hope) what he meant was that he knows how hard it is to talk about. and that statistically, at least five people in the class have experienced sexual assault. and who wants to put a bunch of frightened, over-worked, under-estimated, hanging by a thread 1Ls in that position?
but i spent my entire career as an undergrad fighting this mentality. we have to, have to, have to talk about it. if you're not ready to share your story, that's, of course, okay. it's more than okay. but as long as we don't talk about the fact that our mothers, daughters, aunts, cousins, friends, sisters, neices, granddaughters, step-sisters, teachers, employees, students (and everyone else i didn't mention) are being raped, it will continue to happen.
(window paint during v-week.)
i learned too late that rape isn't about sex. it's not about sex at all. it's about power. we take some of that power away every time we talk about it.
in four years, i got to watch a campus tucked in the South, veiled in a cloth of politeness and avoidance, transform into a place where people talked and people listened. we re-wrote the sexual assault and harassment policy. we put on programs that involved men and women, upper and lower classmen. we got people to pay attention to rape. to sexual harassment. to molestation. because silence, my friends, cures nothing. the sheer act of talking about rape, of raising voices and consciousnesses, undermines what is nothing less than a rape culture.
so let's talk. it doesn't have to be rushed or slow or drawn out or panicked or shameful. but let's talk. let's not avoid the topic in criminal law classes because it might make someone uncomfortable. (because, honestly, i would be uncomfortable. but i want to know.)
(The Vagina Monologues cast.)
bridges.
i'm going to be twenty three on sunday. twenty three. (and no, it's not old. and yes, i understand that there is nothing exciting about this birthday other than its existence.) but twenty three. i remember being sixteen and my cousin, my absolute idol, was twenty three. a college graduate. a member of the work force. an adult. how she feels about the subject, i can't say. but i do know that she was a grown up in my eyes. self assured. taking control.
and now, i'm the twenty three year old. and it's strange. oh so strange. because here i am. roughly a fourth through my life. and i'm still in school. so in a way, my certainty seems so apparent to others. oh, she's in law school; she's going to be a lawyer. point a to point b. but it's not. first, i have to actually get through law school, which will be a feat. then i have to secure internships and positions along the way. and decide what i want to do. and pray to God that sometime between now and may 2012, our beloved capitalist economy has found a way to right itself again so that i can justify going into $100,000 worth of debt. (that justification will be in the form of a fat paycheck in the bank and the ability to actually start my life.)
because now, right now, i feel like bull pushing against his cage. my life, it's here. it's right here. but i can't have it. not yet. more school. less sleep. more this and that and the other. in the meantime, i worry that my life - this life i have waiting for me (a love and a family and a house and a car and three dogs and two point five kids and baseball games and the perfect business suits and all of those things) will get away from me. because it's way patiently right now, but it might get tired of being on hold.
yes. law school is a step to that life. but it is more than one step. it is an old, rickety bridge strung between two sides of a canyon that can kick up winds over one hundred miles per hour. so, the process is slow and tiring, and at the very best of times, a precarious negotiation between the desire to get to the other side and the fear of falling off altogether.
all of this is to say that what's waiting, at least for now, makes all of this worth it. but there's a nagging fear that the life i put on hold will run off without me.
for now, though. i wake up in the morning and trudge to my fortress and build a shelter out of thousand pages books. sometimes - in fact, more often than not - i like it here.
and now, i'm the twenty three year old. and it's strange. oh so strange. because here i am. roughly a fourth through my life. and i'm still in school. so in a way, my certainty seems so apparent to others. oh, she's in law school; she's going to be a lawyer. point a to point b. but it's not. first, i have to actually get through law school, which will be a feat. then i have to secure internships and positions along the way. and decide what i want to do. and pray to God that sometime between now and may 2012, our beloved capitalist economy has found a way to right itself again so that i can justify going into $100,000 worth of debt. (that justification will be in the form of a fat paycheck in the bank and the ability to actually start my life.)
because now, right now, i feel like bull pushing against his cage. my life, it's here. it's right here. but i can't have it. not yet. more school. less sleep. more this and that and the other. in the meantime, i worry that my life - this life i have waiting for me (a love and a family and a house and a car and three dogs and two point five kids and baseball games and the perfect business suits and all of those things) will get away from me. because it's way patiently right now, but it might get tired of being on hold.
yes. law school is a step to that life. but it is more than one step. it is an old, rickety bridge strung between two sides of a canyon that can kick up winds over one hundred miles per hour. so, the process is slow and tiring, and at the very best of times, a precarious negotiation between the desire to get to the other side and the fear of falling off altogether.
all of this is to say that what's waiting, at least for now, makes all of this worth it. but there's a nagging fear that the life i put on hold will run off without me.
for now, though. i wake up in the morning and trudge to my fortress and build a shelter out of thousand pages books. sometimes - in fact, more often than not - i like it here.
collecting
warning. this is a long, rather inane, post. beware.
here's a list of the songs i just bought on itunes:
1) i will possess your heart - death cab for cutie
2) valentine's day in juarez - the ike reilly assassination
3) crazy rap (colt 45 & 2 zig zags) - afroman
4) fields of gold - eva cassidy (yes. i like it better than sting's.)
5) was i on your mind - jessie baylin
6) down in mexico - the coasters
i didn't think much of it until i made a playlist of all these purchases (it's a weird habit, i know). then i realized that if anyone was listening to my music (say through all my open windows or the flimsy excuse for a front door), i would come across as a highly afflicted sufferer of musical a.d.d. (or worse, musical ineptness).
now, i'm no musician. i can't play an instrument. i really can't sing (well, i can sing. just not well.). but i do appreciate "good" music. (dare i use a parenthetical tangent here? i think i do. by "good" i don't mean "better than." i will not snub you if your musical taste includes an affinity for britney spears or miley cyrus. [i might judge a little. but don't we all?] i will recommend some other musical selections if you solicit them from me. but i think the larger purpose of music is to fill a place in our lives. and if what you need is over-produced girl pop, have at it. that's not to say that i don't wish the mega-goliath music industry supported artists whose raw talent far exceeds some [or most] of the pop genre's biggest stars. i do. and it doesn't mean that i don't much prefer supporting indie labies and local radio. i do. very much. all of this is simply to say that we can talk about all kinds of musical elements and attempt to create some sort of graduated scale where we evaluate music and subsequently judge people's choices, but the more important thing is keeping music alive and well. that we nurture musicians of all varieties. that we appreciate that different people like different things.)
okay. parenthetical over. anyhow, i'm listening to my new music (yay) and cleaning my apartment (yup. tank top. sweat pants. dancing to the beat while dusting and windexing. drinking a beer.) and have this funny thought i mentioned earlier. but the thing is, i bought each of these songs for a reason. take crazy rap. folk afficianado i might be, but there will always be room in my heart for talented rap artists. they bring something new to my world, and i love that. and i love this song because it makes me think of summer at the beach, playing games under the house, and laughing with my brother and our friends. that's the space it fills.
death cab? i've never been a big dcfc follower. never got into it when the group became the biggest "not big" thing when i was in high school. but their new album, narrow stairs, is a really interesting evolution. so i'm learning about their musical growth. and i love that.
how about eva cassidy? funny story. i'm sitting in a coffee house reading criminal law cases when this woman's voice comes over the speakers singing "fields of gold," a song i knew all the words by the time i was 8. and i was taken aback by the harrowing sound of her voice and the song had new meaning. again. another space. my contemplation space.
and if you don't listen to the ike reilly assassination, you should. start with we belong to the staggering everything. it's a great album and i've been collecting all of the songs off of it over the last month or so. wonderful new things.
jessi baylin is great. she's adorable and funny and candid. and her music fits right in with my musical m.o.
and who doesn't have room in their musical library for the coasters? c'mon. origins of rock n' roll. appreciate it. enjoy it. you'll learn a lot from it. and have fun doing it.
so there. my musical musings. and loves. post your favorites, too.
xoxo.
t.
here's a list of the songs i just bought on itunes:
1) i will possess your heart - death cab for cutie
2) valentine's day in juarez - the ike reilly assassination
3) crazy rap (colt 45 & 2 zig zags) - afroman
4) fields of gold - eva cassidy (yes. i like it better than sting's.)
5) was i on your mind - jessie baylin
6) down in mexico - the coasters
i didn't think much of it until i made a playlist of all these purchases (it's a weird habit, i know). then i realized that if anyone was listening to my music (say through all my open windows or the flimsy excuse for a front door), i would come across as a highly afflicted sufferer of musical a.d.d. (or worse, musical ineptness).
now, i'm no musician. i can't play an instrument. i really can't sing (well, i can sing. just not well.). but i do appreciate "good" music. (dare i use a parenthetical tangent here? i think i do. by "good" i don't mean "better than." i will not snub you if your musical taste includes an affinity for britney spears or miley cyrus. [i might judge a little. but don't we all?] i will recommend some other musical selections if you solicit them from me. but i think the larger purpose of music is to fill a place in our lives. and if what you need is over-produced girl pop, have at it. that's not to say that i don't wish the mega-goliath music industry supported artists whose raw talent far exceeds some [or most] of the pop genre's biggest stars. i do. and it doesn't mean that i don't much prefer supporting indie labies and local radio. i do. very much. all of this is simply to say that we can talk about all kinds of musical elements and attempt to create some sort of graduated scale where we evaluate music and subsequently judge people's choices, but the more important thing is keeping music alive and well. that we nurture musicians of all varieties. that we appreciate that different people like different things.)
okay. parenthetical over. anyhow, i'm listening to my new music (yay) and cleaning my apartment (yup. tank top. sweat pants. dancing to the beat while dusting and windexing. drinking a beer.) and have this funny thought i mentioned earlier. but the thing is, i bought each of these songs for a reason. take crazy rap. folk afficianado i might be, but there will always be room in my heart for talented rap artists. they bring something new to my world, and i love that. and i love this song because it makes me think of summer at the beach, playing games under the house, and laughing with my brother and our friends. that's the space it fills.
death cab? i've never been a big dcfc follower. never got into it when the group became the biggest "not big" thing when i was in high school. but their new album, narrow stairs, is a really interesting evolution. so i'm learning about their musical growth. and i love that.
how about eva cassidy? funny story. i'm sitting in a coffee house reading criminal law cases when this woman's voice comes over the speakers singing "fields of gold," a song i knew all the words by the time i was 8. and i was taken aback by the harrowing sound of her voice and the song had new meaning. again. another space. my contemplation space.
and if you don't listen to the ike reilly assassination, you should. start with we belong to the staggering everything. it's a great album and i've been collecting all of the songs off of it over the last month or so. wonderful new things.
jessi baylin is great. she's adorable and funny and candid. and her music fits right in with my musical m.o.
and who doesn't have room in their musical library for the coasters? c'mon. origins of rock n' roll. appreciate it. enjoy it. you'll learn a lot from it. and have fun doing it.
so there. my musical musings. and loves. post your favorites, too.
xoxo.
t.
stewart v. motts v. cardinals
the student lounge at my law school is a sad excuse for any type of "lounge." random couches - relics of days gone by and best forgotten - are huddle in one corner by a tv. a few tables and unrelentingly uncomfortable chairs. two refrigerators. in the basement. the only redeeming quality it has is fleeting: the cardinals/ brewers game is playing on fox sports.
i claimed my couch, timbuk2 bag perched on one cushion, my self on the other. i pulled my torts book out of my bag totally ready to brief the two cases i read earlier today only to hear the tell-tale fox sports theme noise (yes, noise. to call it a song would do a great disservice to musicians and their industry). needless to say, torts went out the window. i made myself comfortable on my sad excuse for a couch and decided the cardinals were, in the long run, a lot more important than stewart v. motts.
to make it better, the study group behind me has spent the last twenty minutes predicting the cardinal's eminent demise (it can't go this well for them forever; there's no point in cheering for them when they have so many fans). i was tempted to turn around and say something, but i though a post into the internet world would be more fun.
it's unfortunate that the game doesn't qualify as a reason to miss class in milwaukee (oh yes. i missed school to watch the cardinals in my pre-graduate career in saint louis. and it was understood.)
i claimed my couch, timbuk2 bag perched on one cushion, my self on the other. i pulled my torts book out of my bag totally ready to brief the two cases i read earlier today only to hear the tell-tale fox sports theme noise (yes, noise. to call it a song would do a great disservice to musicians and their industry). needless to say, torts went out the window. i made myself comfortable on my sad excuse for a couch and decided the cardinals were, in the long run, a lot more important than stewart v. motts.
to make it better, the study group behind me has spent the last twenty minutes predicting the cardinal's eminent demise (it can't go this well for them forever; there's no point in cheering for them when they have so many fans). i was tempted to turn around and say something, but i though a post into the internet world would be more fun.
it's unfortunate that the game doesn't qualify as a reason to miss class in milwaukee (oh yes. i missed school to watch the cardinals in my pre-graduate career in saint louis. and it was understood.)
bleeding hearts and dove chocolate.
okay, okay. i said i would be better. i lied. as it turns out, moving to an entirely new city and starting (gasp) law school is a lot more time intensive than i hoped.
i would like to point out that i knew this; i just thought i would blog anyway. false. turns out it's hard to start a habit in the midst of deconstructed cardboard boxes and books on tort law. of course, my other habits have been doing just fine, thank you very much. deep love for dove chocolate before bed? check. obsessive recording and subsequent watching of criminal minds? oh, yes. perusing fashion/ decorating/ any magazine for inspirations for design, art, and general mind candy? all good. going to target just to marvel at their incredible ability to change their stock in a mere several days? yup.
in fact, i have watched criminal minds already today. and this new habit i am trying to form is dong well in the face of having to read about contracts and the manifestation of mutual agreement (yuck. yuck. yuck.). don't think i'll be going in to contract law.
on that note, i would like to say that i do indeed like tort law. (no, no. it's not a dessert, much to my chagrin.) it is unfortunate that my bleeding heart is being so unwillingly led to this type of law. turns out i find jurisprudence in regards to compensation fascinating. it just so happens that this type of law (you know, the lady who sued mcdonald's and won "millions" of dollars? that kind. [this, however, seems like a good juncture to point out that though the jury awarded her upwards of 3,000,000 dollars, the judge reduced this compensation to $640,000. in a threat to appeal, mcdonald's settled with her out of court. that amount is undisclosed.]) is incredibly lucrative. particularly if you are good at what you do.
well, that was fun. .
i would like to point out that i knew this; i just thought i would blog anyway. false. turns out it's hard to start a habit in the midst of deconstructed cardboard boxes and books on tort law. of course, my other habits have been doing just fine, thank you very much. deep love for dove chocolate before bed? check. obsessive recording and subsequent watching of criminal minds? oh, yes. perusing fashion/ decorating/ any magazine for inspirations for design, art, and general mind candy? all good. going to target just to marvel at their incredible ability to change their stock in a mere several days? yup.
in fact, i have watched criminal minds already today. and this new habit i am trying to form is dong well in the face of having to read about contracts and the manifestation of mutual agreement (yuck. yuck. yuck.). don't think i'll be going in to contract law.
on that note, i would like to say that i do indeed like tort law. (no, no. it's not a dessert, much to my chagrin.) it is unfortunate that my bleeding heart is being so unwillingly led to this type of law. turns out i find jurisprudence in regards to compensation fascinating. it just so happens that this type of law (you know, the lady who sued mcdonald's and won "millions" of dollars? that kind. [this, however, seems like a good juncture to point out that though the jury awarded her upwards of 3,000,000 dollars, the judge reduced this compensation to $640,000. in a threat to appeal, mcdonald's settled with her out of court. that amount is undisclosed.]) is incredibly lucrative. particularly if you are good at what you do.
well, that was fun. .
magnumficent.
a few days ago, a man came through my line at the grocery store. he bought two items: an eighteen pack of natty lite and a box of magnum condoms. magnums. that's right. for those of you who don't know, a "normal" condom can easily fit over your forearm. i hate to think of anyone who actually needs magnum condoms.
to make matters more hilarious, this guy was short (say 5'3" - almost 5" shorter than i am) and well, a little round. this combination left me in internal hysterics which promptly turned into external hysterics. as a cashier in a denim shirt and ill-fitting khaki pants, i have little to laugh at anyone about. but this whole scenario ran my memory back to my days as an intern at planned parenthood, where i worked with my friend christie. one relatively boring day (boring in the sense that little was going on and no one had found creepy plastic babies in the trashcans again), christie and i were in the stockroom. please imagine a 5' by 7' room chock-full of every type of paraphernalia related to contraceptives: condoms, dental dams, keychains that hold condoms, flavored lube, planned parenthood pens, brochures on using the female condom and female condoms themselves, all neatly arranged on wire shelves.
anyhow, christie and i were back there getting stuff together for a valentine's day function that vox was putting on when she looked at me and said that i should see how far i could stretch a condom. with little effort, i placed the condom over my elbow and we errupted in fits of laughter as we attempted even more ridiculous scenarious.
after all of this quickly ran through my head, i couldn't help but laugh at this customer as he slid his visa debit card through the terminal, confident in his purchase. i placed the condoms in a bag, handing them to him over the screen of my computer still chuckling to myself.
to make matters more hilarious, this guy was short (say 5'3" - almost 5" shorter than i am) and well, a little round. this combination left me in internal hysterics which promptly turned into external hysterics. as a cashier in a denim shirt and ill-fitting khaki pants, i have little to laugh at anyone about. but this whole scenario ran my memory back to my days as an intern at planned parenthood, where i worked with my friend christie. one relatively boring day (boring in the sense that little was going on and no one had found creepy plastic babies in the trashcans again), christie and i were in the stockroom. please imagine a 5' by 7' room chock-full of every type of paraphernalia related to contraceptives: condoms, dental dams, keychains that hold condoms, flavored lube, planned parenthood pens, brochures on using the female condom and female condoms themselves, all neatly arranged on wire shelves.
anyhow, christie and i were back there getting stuff together for a valentine's day function that vox was putting on when she looked at me and said that i should see how far i could stretch a condom. with little effort, i placed the condom over my elbow and we errupted in fits of laughter as we attempted even more ridiculous scenarious.
after all of this quickly ran through my head, i couldn't help but laugh at this customer as he slid his visa debit card through the terminal, confident in his purchase. i placed the condoms in a bag, handing them to him over the screen of my computer still chuckling to myself.
round two.
well, i had the best of intentions to update this blog at least every couple days. trouble is, i find other people's blogs far more fascinating. or hilarious. so when i get online i often spend my free time keeping up with old friends (friends i've had for a long time; not friends who are old) or making sure i am up-to-date with the failings of the baking world.
and unfortunately, my life has been far more hectic than god intended the summer before law school to be. between working at the grocery store (is plastic okay with you, ma'am?), trying to prepare my apartment in milwaukee, and the balancing act of living at home with my parents for the first time in over three years, i've been miserably busy.
but from here on out, i am going to devote this blog to the daily going-ons of a first year law student with a propensity for words, a love for paint, and friends who amaze here.
and unfortunately, my life has been far more hectic than god intended the summer before law school to be. between working at the grocery store (is plastic okay with you, ma'am?), trying to prepare my apartment in milwaukee, and the balancing act of living at home with my parents for the first time in over three years, i've been miserably busy.
but from here on out, i am going to devote this blog to the daily going-ons of a first year law student with a propensity for words, a love for paint, and friends who amaze here.
our songs.
i didn't get to watch the "we are one" inaugural celebration on hbo. so i finally got my computer to cooperate and i spent the afternoon watching celebrities of all kinds celebrate this historical moment. now, i can't stop listening to "american pie."
it's certainly not a happy song. nonetheless, everything i attach to that famous refrain reminds of sunkissed car rides in north carolina, sand in my hair, and my eight-year-old desire to drive a chevy. so even when the song reaches its saddest moment - "the three men i admire most - the father, son, and tbe holy ghost - they caught the last train for the coast" i still want to be in the back of the rental car singing with my dad.
my family has always had songs - john mellencamp, bruce, rod stewart, the stones - that define some continual moment in time in our shared lives. growing up has made me want to listen them. wishing the car windows were still manually operated because it would make reliving the moment more authentic.
it's certainly not a happy song. nonetheless, everything i attach to that famous refrain reminds of sunkissed car rides in north carolina, sand in my hair, and my eight-year-old desire to drive a chevy. so even when the song reaches its saddest moment - "the three men i admire most - the father, son, and tbe holy ghost - they caught the last train for the coast" i still want to be in the back of the rental car singing with my dad.
my family has always had songs - john mellencamp, bruce, rod stewart, the stones - that define some continual moment in time in our shared lives. growing up has made me want to listen them. wishing the car windows were still manually operated because it would make reliving the moment more authentic.
