giving good blog.

as the ever-wise catherine connors (herbadmother) explains it:
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.

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.)