My Dad loves me...

Last week my Dad bought one of these doo-hickeys. I can now watch their television on my computer anywhere that I have an internet connection. It is the coolest thing ever. I mean, technically I could watch SportsCenter during class if SportsCenter was on during class. Or I could watch soap operas in class - if I watched soap operas. Plus, my parents are two time zones behind me - so if I miss a TV show here at home, I can catch it later on their end. (You know, since I don't have TiVo or DVR or even a VCR that records the television.) I am most excited about college football season as that is the only time that I ever find myself wishing that I had cable. I wonder if there's a way for me to close-caption their tv so that I can watch in silence, but still know what's going on?

So flippin' cool. Oh, and my apologies if this is something that's been around forever and I just didn't know about it. I'm pretty technology illiterate.

Fight Alcohol Illiteracy...

Wine-time and I are making margaritas tonight...

WTG: I'm at the store. I think I have everything except triple-sec. Do you have triple-sec?
Ana: I have Grand Marnier, will that work?
WTG: Huh?
Ana: I'm pretty sure you can use it for Mexican Martinis (the Texas term for margaritas). I just don't know if you use it in lieu of Triple Sec.
WTG: Hmmm, sure, we can try it.
Ana: Is Triple-Sec orange?
WTG: Yes.
Ana: Okay, yes! Then the Grand Marnier will work! Awesome.

Okay, so I googled - and for those of you who are as uneducated as I am, Grand Marnier is a type of Triple Sec.

Where Ana receives a little lesson on vocabulary...

Ana is a cynic, a skeptic, a curmudgeon. If there’s one type of person she can’t stand, it’s those who are interminably happy. You know, those people who always think life is just fantastic and seem oblivious to the sadness, death, and destruction going on around them? People who seemingly are naïve, ignorant, or openly choose to abstain from reality? Let’s face it: people who are always happy are NOT well-rounded individuals. They’re missing out on some key portions of life that create depth and understanding. They are so gay. Literally.

gay [gey] adjective, -er, -est, noun, adverb
1. having or showing a merry, lively mood: gay spirits; gay music
2. bright or showy: gay colors; gay ornaments
3. given to or abounding in social or other pleasures: a gay social season
4. licentious; dissipate; wanton: The baron is a gay old rogue with an eye for the ladies

A few weeks ago I was chatting with Alex and I said, “That’s so gay.”

Alex bristled.

“Ana,” he leaned in, “that is not a politically correct term.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, um, it’s kind of insulting to the homosexual and lesbian community,” he told me.

“What? They’re cool. I totally don’t think they’re gay.” I returned.

“Ana.”

“No seriously. When I say I think someone is gay, I’m expressing my ironic disdain for those ridiculously happy people out there that you just want to beat with a stick,” I said.

“But still,” said Alex.

5. Homosexual
6. of, indicating, or supporting homosexual interest or issues: a gay organization.
-noun
7. a homosexual person, esp. a male.

“Yeah, I get it,” I said. “I need to find a new word or stop hating on the happy people.”

Damn the duality of meanings. So, I’m not completely insensitive. I’ve worked on removing this term from my vocabulary, but you know what’s coming, right?

The other day I was describing something to a gal from my section and I said, “Yeah, the whole situation is just so gay!”

I was at a Happy Hour. There were about fifteen people there. Maybe two of them were hetero. The person I made the statement to is the president of the GLBT law student organization.

“Oh shit!” I said.

“Uh, Ana, you want to crawl out from under the picnic table so we can talk about this?”

“Son of a [insert something here non-derogatory and PC]. I know it’s a bad word,” I said. “I know, I know! I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m working on it!”

“Ana, when you say that, it’s the same as when someone says ‘jew something down,’” she told me.

Uh yeah, except last time I checked, there aren’t multiple definitions for Jew so it's kind of hard to misconstrue meanings on that one.

“It happens, Ana,” she told me. “Last semester a guy made some kind of ‘fag’ comment and then apologized. I told him he wouldn't even have realized what he was saying unless I’d been standing there.”

Um, am I supposed to draw a personal inference from this? Dude, I get it. You find it hurtful. I'm sorry. Really I am. [Ana's feeling a little hated-on herself as of late - which apparently is okay as long as you don't make mention of the fact that she's a woman. It's like she's suddenly 'the man.' My apologies to any men who are offended by such! I'll work on that one, too!]

So yeah, I suck. Plus, now I’m freaked out anytime I open my mouth. Last night I was describing something strange to Wine-time Girl and I said, “Yeah, the queer thing about it is…OMG, is that a bad word, too? I bet it is. Crap, crap, crap!”

Most of all though, I’m really angry at those horrible happy people who started the whole shebang. In the meantime, I think I’m just going to create my own word to express disdain - just to be safe. Or use a word with some random meaning. I’m kind of partial to ‘snood’ right now. That’s so snood.

snood (snōōd) noun
1. A small netlike cap worn by women to keep the hair in place.
2. A headband or fillet.
3. A fleshy wrinkled fold of skin that hangs down over a turkey's beak.

Anyone who is a turkey or wears headbands, well I guess you're out of luck. Feel free to hate me.

Proof that Wine-Time Girl Should Not be Setting Me Up...

So WTG always seems to have a guy in her back pocket that she's trying to set me up with. Last week her BF jumped on the bandwagon and decided that he too could think of someone in his program that he thought I should go out with. As usual, I'm open, but wary. Then last night, WTG and I had this conversation:

WTG: You know who I can see you with?
Ana: Who?
WTG: [Guy from our law school]
Ana: Wine-time, he lives with a girl...and they're engaged.
WTG: Yeah, I just think the two of you are a better fit. I can totally see you guys married one day.
Ana: Uh...thanks for thinking of me?

In other news, WTG and I have decided after nearly a semester respite to reinstitute wine time. I am so happy that I could cry. [Note: even though we call it wine time, it's really more of philosophy/life/book club-like discussion. The actual wine consumption rarely exceeds two glasses. Wine time is also better than any type of therapy I've ever encountered.]

Six weird things about me...

Last week Pargolo tagged me to blog six odd things about myself. Like Artsy Fartsy, I was somewhat surprised when I had difficulty. I mean really, I’m a fruitcake, people. How can I not come up with six odd things instantly? Perhaps I should have polled acquaintances. Anyhowever, without further ado – six weird things about Ana.

1. I am really short, but if nature had its way I would be even shorter.
That’s right. Twenty years ago, I was among the first kids to receive chemically-created growth hormone. Doctors predicted I wouldn’t reach 5 feet and my parents were terrified – so every other night for about a year my dad jabbed me in the leg with hormone shots. To add insult to injury, the shots weren’t covered by insurance and every day my parents bitched left and right about how much they were doing for me – by sticking me in the leg! I said to hell with it after awhile because I thought the whole thing was BS. I grew a total of three inches and eclipsed five feet.

2. I have odd-shaped feet.
Okay, I know most people’s feet are wider near the toes, but mine are really bad. My mother calls them “Duck Feet.” And every year they get a little wider. Normal shoes from the store are not wide enough for my feet. Everyday work shoes – make my feet bleed. I’m not kidding. I went to a conference a few weeks ago and after three hours – blood, blisters, pain. I wear a lot of flip-flops…and if I ever have a real job, I will probably special order some fat-footed shoes.

3. Just flip the light switch.
Like Pargolo, I have a lot of crazy nightmares. As a small child, I figured out a way to tell if my dreams were nightmares or reality. I go to the wall and flip the light switch. If the light doesn’t turn off or on, then I’m dreaming. Any time I think I’m in reality and something starts to get a little screwy I’m like, “Oh wait. This is a dream.” Click.

4. I talk to myself - all of the time - in front of other people. The non-hand-held cellphones have really helped me out on this one.

5. My living room looks very similar to that of the Golden Girls.

6. I am allergic to tobacco.
Not exactly the best case scenario for a chain smoker. You think I'm lying? I'm not.

You're up, Weef. I know. I'm supposed to tag six people - if only I had six friends or even knew six bloggers who hadn't already done this. Unfortunately, I fear I am near the top of the pyramid scheme. Weef's pregnant right now though so I'm sure she won't disappoint. ;-)

Update: Weef has listed her six items and they are much more funny/interesting than mine. Also, I would like to note that I was on the opposing middle school quiz bowl team that benefited from the mob mentality and went on to win the district tournament. What can I say? I peaked early in life.

Ana's 'hood...

I went for a walk again today...and took my camera this time.


Bienvenidos Amigos! (How do you do the upside down exclamation point?)


The Greek Coffee Shop with eclectic juke box, free lighters, backgammon, and belly dancers.


Hmm, I wonder what they sell there?


This is actually the contents of a store, I kid you not. It's kinda awesome, isn't it?


The knitting graffiti artist strikes again! Oh yeah, our neighborhood has a knitting tagger and you can find knits on stop sign poles, bridge overhangs, and bike racks. There's a huge one on a ceiling beam inside my bar.


Garage front store.


The Location of Wine Time. SHhhh!


Antiques?


That's a pretty good description of the neighborhood right there.


Buy, sell, trade, pierce. (If you look carefully, you can see Ana's reflection.)


Yet another coffee shop.


This is my bar. I was there last night. And no, during the day there's no sign to indicate that there's a bar behind the garage door.


It's a kitschy neighborhood, no?

Someone or something has taken over my body…

I’m not exactly the most productive person in the world. I’m the kid who runs around looking like the zany professor with piles of paper and my hair loosely banded, flying everywhere. Somehow I always manage to get stuff done, but appearance and organization are not my strong points.

I went to bed on Saturday night a little early and mildly drunk as I am wont to do on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday or Wednesday. But something strange happened on Sunday when I woke up. Even though it was 11 am and I should have felt groggy from too much sleep, I was strangely invigorated, and more than that, I was in a ridiculously contented mood. And for some even stranger reason, every time I passed something in the house that needed to be done, I just stopped and did it:

The non-bill pile of mail that’s been accumulating for months? Sorted, trashed, shredded and filed.
The random stuff thrown haphazardly onto my refrigerator? Completely taken down and revamped. Almost eerily organized now.
Three loads of laundry, towels, and sheets? Done.
Picture Frames? Dusted.
Trash cans? Dumped…every single one, including the one in my guest bedroom downstairs that’s never been dumped until yesterday.
Since I was on a roll, I dumped trash in the car as well.
Wood floors? Swept, swiffered, and vinegar polished. No kidding.
Handwashing? Completed.
Two months worth of receipts? Marked and reconciled with my bank account statements.
Library books? Renewed online.
Random piles of class-related papers in backpack, booksack, and throughout house? Organized, collated, and put in subject-specific binders.
Lightbulb in the hallway? Changed.
Old supplements and textbooks? Listed for sale online.
Stray hair in bathroom? I lint-rolled the tile floor. Seriously.

The list goes on. Last night I crawled in bed around midnight and decided that I should read something non-law related and grabbed Walden (which I haven’t read since high school) – because you know, nothing says page-turner like Thoreau’s description of cleaning the lint from between his toenails in lieu of having to interact with the rest of society. I have no idea, but as I lay on top of the bed, I suddenly found myself doing leg lifts – something else I haven’t done since high school. Leg lifts? Exercise? Are you kidding me?

Oh, but it gets worse. This morning, I bounced out of bed at 7:30 am. I don’t bounce out of bed ever, and I didn’t even have flippin’ class today, but you know what I did? I got dressed, made coffee, PUT ON MAKEUP(!), and then WENT TO SCHOOL TO READ BECAUSE I FIGURED I WOULD GET MORE DONE IF I SAT IN THE LIBRARY FOR TWO HOURS RATHER THAN MY OWN HOUSE!!! Okay, really, who stole my mind and my body?!?!?

And then, after I read, I printed out every PowerPoint slide from class to date. Sick, I am sick. After reading I went straight to the grocery store – not only did I remember to bring the list with me at 8 in the morning, but I also remembered to bring a bottle of make-up that I’ve forgotten to return for over two months. Amazingly, the store took it back. (HEB, I love them!)

Anyhoo, I return home, make lunch, and then decide that since it’s such a nice day, I think I’ll take A WALK? Take a walk? A stroll? More exercise?

Who knows what the deal is? I’m running out of things to do – well, not really. I have major things related to two papers I haven’t done, but still. My house is immaculate, and I can’t seem to do anything that’s not quasi-productive. I hesitated whether to take the time to write a blog entry - it’s bizarre.

After a productive day...

I'm tired...but I have to attend a family friend's wedding shower in an hour and a half. Hmm, a wedding shower for couples that starts at 7:30. Something tells me that this is not the type of event where I can get away with wearing jeans. Grumble, grumble.

Update: Okay, I found something to wear - creme pants with a black lacy top. I feel like I look like a cow, but decided that I was delusional when I checked the tag and it said 2P - and I bought these pants years ago, before the advent of the 0 and the 1. Then again, they are Ann Taylor which always runs large, for years I couldn't shop there because they didn't make their clothes small enough. I think the problem is that I remember what I looked like when I bought the pants. No one tell my mother that I wore white before Easter to the event of a family friend, okay?

I don't know why this bothers me so much, but...

John Edwards has announced that his wife's cancer has returned - and that it is now considered to be incurable. At the same time, he will continue his run for President.

I know we're all allowed to make our own life decisions, but something about this just makes me feel ill. I mean, maybe it's what his wife wants and all, and to an extent her cancer is somewhat treatable, but geez, she's in stage 4 breast cancer for crying out loud. Ick.

I already have enough debt, thanks...

Every few months Cornell Law school sends me billings as part of the Cornell Installment Plan (CIP). Upon receiving the bill, I send them a nice email letting them know that I have never signed up for the tuition installment plan. They email me back to say, "Oh, you're right. Our error."

Yesterday I got a letter saying I owed them around 10k for my next installment, and I sent off my standard email.

Why is this funny?

Well, I'm assuming you probably need to attend Cornell in order to be a part of the plan. You know, I wouldn't mind if Cornell accidentally sent me an alumni magazine or a diploma, but a bill is just kind of tacky.

It's going to be one of those power weeks...

...so much for an easy glide back into things after Spring Break.

Though I correctly scheduled 24 written pages last Wednesday through Saturday, I realized on Saturday night that there was still more I wanted to write for my paper. So on Sunday, I wrote another four or so pages instead of reading for class. Monday I decided to take a break – well technically I worked on the paper for three hours or so, but it wasn’t very intensive. (I tracked down my sources since I’d written much of the paper off the cuff.)

So Tuesday…

Got up early and got to school at 9 am in order to do some last minute work on my paper.

10 am
Class. Turned in my paper. Yippee.

12 pm
Head to library to read for classes since I am behind schedule. Decide to read 50 pages in one class.

12:30 pm
Finally receive email from financial aid counselor telling me how to fix my aid SNAFU. Work on getting that stuff done.

1 pm
Turn in all necessary documents to financial aid counselor. According to her I will still be considered for the first round of aid “as long as these documents get processed by April 1st.” Everyone cross your fingers that my school’s financial aid office can enter two pieces of paper into the computer in the next ten days.

1:20 pm
Fill out scholarship application and turn it in. Student director says, “Oh yeah, they changed the date on this and it was due last week.” Awesome.

1:30 pm
Back to the library to read. Friend calls and leaves message, “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” Oh yeah, I forgot about that.

3 pm
Have gotten about 40 pages into the reading and I see a little note on the side of the page that I have made to myself. I realize that the 40 pages I have just completed were part of the reading for last week. Oh crap. Will I never get caught up?

3:15 pm
Smoking. I run into a friend I haven’t seen in awhile. She’s headed out this evening at 9 for dollar beers. Am I in? Sure, why not. Yeah, it’ll be fun she says. She’s inviting so-and-so, blah-di-da, and the Boy. Oh crud. Does Ana want to be an adult and bow out? Or does Ana want to be an adult and say “screw it. This is no big deal. I’ll go.” She decides that she’ll figure it out later.

4:15 pm
Ana determines that if she’s going to make it to dinner at 7, then she needs to go home and shower.

5 pm
Ana is now clean and still reading. She realizes she is hungry and hasn't eaten anything today except for coffee and diet coke. Peruses cabinets. Nothing there. Didn't go grocery shopping during paper writing marathon. Ana makes due with ten slightly stale saltines. Reading, reading, reading. She manages to read about 80 pages of junk. Unfortunately, she is now to the point where she has read for one day of one class.

7:30 pm
Ana meets friends for dinner. Despite being a meat lover, Ana is always seemingly ridiculously satisfied by the vegetarian Indian place around the corner. Mmm-mmm – cubed cottage cheese, chutney, potatoes, and fried bread.

9:40 pm
Ana leaves dinner and heads out to meet friends at bar. Boy is there. Things are fine. No sweat. Ana chats mostly with her other friends.

11:30 pm
Ana wonders if she’s staying out too late. Decides that this situation is optimal because otherwise she’d probably be at home drinking a bottle of wine and getting nothing done. At least this way, she’s only spending about $2 on beer and won’t be hungover in the morning.

12:30 am
Ana goes home and is in bed by 1 am.

Wednesday.
Wash, rinse, repeat.

What I've learned this week...

1. I am no good at picking basketball teams for pools. Seriously, I just checked my bracket and I picked Gonzaga to go almost all the way. What? Was that just a typo on my part?

2. It is much easier to write an academic paper when you have not gone out the night before. I sooo don't want to write today. Ugh.

The paper is coming along. If I only had a few more days of spring break, I think I could turn it into something decent. Right now it's a mess of hodge-podginess, but most of my ideas are down on paper and I've reached my 25 page minimum. (Unfortunately, it never dawned on me that I'd have more than 25 pages worth of stuff to say. Looks like I'll be writing another six pages tomorrow. Hopefully that will be the end!) I can't believe that I have to start reading law books tomorrow! I can't believe that I haven't studied a wink all week! Then again, this type of break is nice. After taking a week off I'm ready to buckle down and concentrate on school. Additionally, I'm mildly thrilled that I won't have to worry about job stuff for the rest of the semester. I think the lift of psychological weight is going to go a long way towards an increase in my energy level. So yeah, at the end of this week I can cross 'find a job' and 'massive paper' off the list. All in all a pretty nice spring break.

And the best pick-up line of the night is...

"You look familiar. Do you go to other-university? I'm getting my PhD there in English."

Priceless. Unfortunately, Wine-time thought he was gay. Then again, Wine-time (as well as most of my friends) thinks every guy I like is gay. Everyone has their hurdles. For some gals it's making sure the guy has a job. For me, it's making sure that the guy is actually into women. In all honesty, things were going well until I asked if he liked Hemingway...and he said yes. Deal-breaker.

Best part of the evening...after being dragged out to cheesy/trendy bar, Ana ends up having conversation with guy-friend/med student. The conversation? Basically it was an argument about the Germans invading Russia during WWII and whether or not they lost due to weather, population, or mobilization. - Cuz seriously, isn't that the conversation everyone has at a bar?!?!

Ana: Why the heck do boys talk to me about crap like this?!!? Why can't boys just find me pretty?!?!?
Med-boy: At the risk of sounding politically incorrect, I hate to admit it, but I wouldn't be talking to you if you weren't cute.
Ana: Whatever! Boys only ever talk to me about stuff like this. For crying out loud! We're at a pseudo-yuppie bar - yet somehow we've just had a twenty minute discussion on communism and utilitarianism! Why is this my life!!!!???
Med-boy: I meet so many dumb women...
Ana: I'm smart. I get that. I'm glad it seems so novel to you, but for me it's an everyday thing. Humans at their essence are very basic. Why can't anyone be basic with me? I just want to feel like a girl.

His only redemption was that he text messaged me multiple times after I left the bar.

Still workin' on this flippin' paper...

Congrats to Kristine on being done with hers.

I sorta kinda cheated on mine today. The rule is that I have to write 6 pages each day. That rule started three days ago. Tomorrow is the last day of self-imposed martyrdom. I did some reformatting today and realized that I had not written 12 pages in the last two days, but rather 11 1/4. I know this sounds ridiculous, but it was kind of heart-breaking. Long story short, today I only got up to 17 3/4 - so technically I wrote my 6 pages, but since I'm a little behind, I'm not as far along as I should be. But it's only a 1/4 of a page, right? It's ok, isn't it?

Still not citing...the rough draft is due on Tues and since I'm "scheduled" to finish on Saturday, that gives me a few days to proof and cite and do other yucky things. Also, the paper is not actually "Due" in finished form until the end of April - so I have LOTS of time to fix any major problems. That being said, writing a paper during spring break really sucks...and this is the second year of law school that I've had to do so. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel. This little gem fulfills my writing requirement AND I'm exempted from writing a comment for my journal next year SO all future writings...FICTION! Yippy-skippy.

I don't <3 my financial aid office right now...

So here's my little rant. Need-based aid at my law school is given out on a first come-first serve basis. For my first year of law school, I applied early. However, there was some kind of glitch with my FAFSA and the financial aid office did not notify me about it until late in the year. I asked the financial aid director about it and she said that this automatically kicked my application to the back of the pile.

Last year I applied early, everything went fine, and I was awarded aid.

This year, I applied and filled out my FAFSA almost immediately. It was turned in before school even started and the financial aid office emailed me to say they received the info. Then, all of the sudden today, I get an email from financial aid saying that part of my application is missing and they can't process it.

You want to know what was missing?

1. My tax return. - Hmmm, maybe if you bozos read my FAFSA, you would see that I did not work this year and as such, did not file a return. GEE, could that be why there is no tax return form with my app?

2. My W-2's from last year - You have to have a job to receive a W-2 people!

3. Verification Form - this is apparently some kind of form that they randomly assign to applicants to verify their information. The email listed a website where I could retrieve this form. I go to the website and there is not one for 2007-2008. There is a copy for 2006 and I pull it up to see what it is...information verifying your income for the last year!!!

What the heck, do these people think it was impossible that I didn't work or have any income last year? Guess what, financial aid? I worked for several years and saved money so that I could go to law school. I know that's unheard of in this day and age, but it's all mine, all the taxes have been paid, and mommy and daddy are not helping me one bit AND if you little punks dare send my application back to the end of the pile, I am going to be really, really mad because the truth is, my moolah has run out.

On top of all of this, they gave me no instruction as to how I would actually submit these documents if I had them or as to how to contact them if they had royally screwed up. I am SOOOO mad.

AND! I try to log on to my school website to find the email for the law school financial aid counselor and apparently the school has shut down their internet for the next twelve hours for maintenance or something.

Today's Update: Sent email last night to central financial aid office. So far no response. This morning - Sat on hold with the main financial aid office in attempt to speak to a real person and finally gave up after twenty minutes. Attempted to call law school financial aid office - got voicemail. Sent email to law school financial aid director outlining the problem around lunch time. Have not heard back from her.

Today's Progress...

I've written three of my self-imposed requirement of six pages so far today. All in all, this is not so bad given that I didn't wake up until 2 pm today. Don't ask.

I was cruising along, but seem to have hit a bump in the last 45 minutes. I'm not keen to take a break, but there's no food in my house so I'm going to try and do a quick grocery run.

Oh and does anyone else sit down to write a paper and then find themself surprised with the way it is turning out? I think about a third of my paper is going to turn out to discuss something I never thought about until my fingers started to type.

Ok...

I've written six pages. That's going to have to be enough for today. I'm a little concerned though. Because this paper is supposed to be 25 pages without footnotes, I'm kind of not messing with the citations right now. A secondary part of this is because a lot of my material is related to science and religion. I can't just look up my stuff on West. I have to go to a real library and flip through an actual book. As this is going to take some time, right now I'm relying rather heavily on my own personal knowledge as well as Wikipedia. Can you cite Wikipedia? (That's completely a joke.)

Wouldn't that be funny though if I could just have these sources for my paper?
1. Me
2. Bible
3. Wikipedia
4. God (via prayer)

PS - I would greatly appreciate it if all my friends *cough*WTG*cough* would come home soon. I miss you.

uh-huh...

I've written one page - and it's an anecdotal story that's meant to be an opening. Now that the creative writing part is over, I'm ready to call it quits.

What?

How come right when I decide that I'm starving and I'm going to go get something to eat - that's when it starts to pour down rain. So unfair!

Grrr...

I still have no desire to work on this paper - which is why I'm tromping myself over to the library and am not letting myself leave until I have 7 pages written.

Also, how many days in a row can someone wear the same pair of corduroy and still be socially acceptable? I think I may be pushing the envelope on that one.

Ugh, it's starting to rain here. Rain and a paper - this is spring break? Phooey! Oh wait, I think that five seconds of job stuff yesterday sufficiently makes up for anything negative that has happened this entire semester.

Finally at the library - and guess what, I want to nap. This is not looking good.

Well today's shot, might as well go play...

So today I was supposed to write at least five pages of my seminar paper - but then midday I got some news. Somehow in my search for a part-time clerking position this spring, I have ended up with a full-fledged summer clerkship. Knowing the I will a) be employed this summer, b) be able to pay my bills next year, and c) might have something that will lead to full-time employment has shot my energy level to hyper and my productivity to zero.

WHOOOPPEEEE!

What's in the cards?

Almost ten years ago I attended a friend’s wedding with my then long-term boyfriend. We’d been dating for around seven months with the regular ups and downs. After meeting in Las Vegas, he’d followed me to Seattle and for the moment we were living together. After the initial fun of ‘playing house’ wore off, the relationship became something of a chore. I was working around 12 hours a day and he wasn’t working at all. Part of this was because he didn’t have a car, but since we lived in the city, there were plenty of places he could easily reach on foot. I tried to get him to take a job at the movie theater or video store on the block, but he refused saying that he deserved something better than that. I wasn’t suggesting he take up either of those opportunities as a career, rather I just wanted someone to help me pay the bills. In addition, I was working a less than glamorous job and didn’t understand why he thought that was ok for me, but not for him.

The boyfriend, who had always been somewhat emotionally needy, was even more so once he moved to Seattle and had no other friends. At over six feet tall, he ate more food in a day than I ate in a week and my grocery bills were piling up. I’d come home from work each night and open the fridge to pull out whatever item I’d made earlier in the day. Because I often didn’t get home until late, I usually pre-made my meals so I wouldn’t be stuck making dinner until midnight. Inevitably, the boyfriend had eaten my meal and when the tears began to roll down my cheeks from the emotional exhaustion, he would just look at me and say, “Well, what did you expect me to do? It was the only thing in the fridge.”

“It was flippin' macaroni and cheese, Matt! You couldn’t walk the thirty feet to the grocery store and get your own? Or at least replace mine after you ate it? You’re here all day doing nothing, but playing video games and yet I’m the one who’s supposed to do the grocery shopping, fix the meals, clean the house, and freaking work 60 hours a week? I’m going to bed.”

Our trip to Texas for my friend’s wedding was supposed to be like a mini-vacation, but it turned into more of a nightmare. I was excited to see my friends and wanted to spend time with them. He was disappointed that I hadn’t viewed the visit as a one-on-one romantic getaway.

During the bridesmaid’s lunch I met the grandmother of my friend’s fiancé. The woman was a psychic. Not a for-profit psychic, but rather one who dabbled in her free time. She went around the table telling people about their lives and their futures. She knew all the people who had children and what their kids’ ages were. I was really excited to hear my own future, but when my turn was apparent, the grandmother conspicuously skipped over me and went on to the next person.

“I’m probably going to die young or have a miserable life,” I told Matt later that evening.

“Or maybe she just accidentally missed you,” he said.

At the rehearsal dinner, I sought the old lady out and demanded a reading.

“Hee-hee,” she said, “You’ve been dying to know the whole time you’ve been here.”

The woman looked like your average grandma, but in this moment she flashed a wicked grin.

“Sometimes,” she continued, “it’s better to leave things unsaid so you can figure them out on your own.”

“AUGH!” I yelled as I stomped my foot. “That’s so not fair!”

“Tell you what,” she offered, “I’ll read your palm.”

She read Matt’s first, telling him that he would have two great loves in his life, along with two children. Then she took mine and jumped.

“What?!?!” I asked.

“Honey,” she answered, “You are going to have a love life that rivals Rita Hayworth and Marilyn Monroe.”

“Give me back my hand!”

“Wow,” she said still reading the lines, “You are one hot tamale, aren’t you?”

“So I won’t ever find true love?” I asked.

“Quite the contrary,” she answered. “You will have multiple passionate love affairs on a level deeper than most people ever experience. No kids, though, possibility of two boys, but it’s unlikely.”

“You are truly a mean-spirited person,” I told her and began to walk away.

“Oh Ana,” she called after me, “your career…”

I turned around, “What about my career?”

“Amazing,” she answered, “unbelievably successful.”

“What will I be doing?” I asked.

Again, she just smiled.

Throughout the evening I wondered about what the grandma had said. At the time, my only real relationship was Matt and there was relatively nothing passionate about it. I rarely dated and couldn’t see myself involved in a string of dramatic courtships.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I can’t believe that lady basically just told me that I was going to be hooker when I grow up,” I grumbled.

“Ana,” he said, “it was just for fun. That stuff will never happen.”

I broke up with Matt the next day. Today he is married and has two kids. He was briefly engaged to another girl between our relationship and the one he is in now. My stories about dating never seem to remotely resemble those of my friends. I still wonder what it was that the grandmother didn’t want to tell me and what my so-called fabulous career will be.

The Small Joys in Life...

Sometimes I have a tendency to exhibit obsessive or neurotic behavior. In younger years, I tried to suppress this, but now with age, I instead attempt to embrace my quirks and channel them into something productive. As a result, I clean the house a lot. Sweeping and swiffering the wood floors is a special treat I let myself do each day. Seriously. If you love me, get me a new broom for my birthday.

My sister is the same way, although her cleaning products collection is MUCH bigger than my own. Yeah, I’m jealous. She always knows the best product to use for any type of job. Strangely, we both suck at laundry. (This reminds me that I have a load that’s been sitting in my dryer since Friday.)

Anyhoo, I sweep everyday, but I persistently find long brown hairs all over the house. No, I don’t have a dog; I am the shedder. Recently it seems as if hair is everywhere and it drives me crazy. So, a few days ago I pulled out my lint roller and can I just say, it’s my new favorite obsession. I have lint-rolled the pillows, the sheets, the comforter, the couch, my coats, my clothes. And I think I might have rolled enough hair to make a wig. Yes, there is something wrong with me, and I probably need help, but I’ve practically got the lint roller holstered to my side and spotting a stray hair brings on a form of glee you can’t imagine.

Not only do I have an outlet for the obsessive behavior, but I’ve also found a cheap form of entertainment.

I know, I should get out more…but it’s SOOO fun!

Given recent events, I find this horoscope obscene...

"On Thursday or Friday, some light, good-natured verbal sparring with you-know-who brings you closer. Keep up your end of the conversation through the weekend. When you get a cute text message, send a cute text message back. Love in the modern age is adorable, isn't it?"

Bite me.

Welcome New Subscriber?

UPDATE: I have received an email from the 'new subscriber'; they have outed themself(selves?) as a prospective student - not a hiring person. Blog on, my friends.

Under most circumstances, I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I notice that a new person has subscribed to this blog’s feed. Yesterday however, I raised an eyebrow.

I know that anyone can read this blog and I also know that from time to time law firms do peruse it. They are welcome to do so. It’s just a part of this medium. If I weren’t open for everyone, law student readers (the intended audience of this blog) would never find me.

At any rate, in the last day or so someone with an IP address from a very large firm that is based out of Texas has subscribed to the feed and logged a couple of hours on this site. (And we thought they stayed so late at the office because they were working!)

I let my readers know because while I love getting comments on the blog, I did want to make you guys aware that they might be read. (If the reader was just passing through I wouldn't bother.) As most of my commenters hail from out of state, you guys are probably fine, but like I said, just so you know. Someone from the same firm visited last fall and both times they have found the site by looking specifically for people from my school. However, the reader could be a paralegal, clerk, or prospective law student here on friendly terms - no telling.

New Subscriber: I’m not trying to out you so much as give the commenters a heads up. If you’re here because you enjoy the blog, then welcome.

PS – I am really a precocious twelve year old boy.