"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: firstname.lastname@example.org
February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 September 2005
Thursday, August 28, 2003
Top 3 Disturbing Items of the Week:
1. I saw a bumper sticker that said "CARPE DM: seize the Dungeon Master." I was afraid that person might attempt to smother me with his cape or cut me with his "Magic: The Gathering" playing cards.
2. In spinning yesterday, one of the songs was a remix of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and "Bootylicious." I am dead serious. Try to wrap your head around that one.
3. People in law school can be mean, and I am not thick-skinned enough to deal with it. Being on law review is exhausting, not just because of the work I'll have to do, but because I'm constantly on the defensive. It makes me sad to know that people are talking about me or are resentful of me. Even when people make jokes and kid around with me, ("It's you! We're not worthy! I must shield my eyes; I'm in the presence of greatness!") it starts to really wear me down. I know, you might be saying "Oh, poor thing--on law review and complaining," but it really is hard for me to handle the new attention and expectations, from my classmates and others. My only consolation is that, although law students can be mean, they're also fickle. Everyone will move on to the next order of business as soon as something "scandalous" occurs. Until then, I'm going to lie low. Which will be easy, because I'll be in the law review office for the rest of my life.
I suppose all good things come at a price, but must that price be...MY SOUL?? Dum dum dum...(to be continued).
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
Minus the Red Koolaid and the White High-Tops (for the most part)...
Oh law review. What the hell am I doing? We had a meeting yesterday, and I had to wear business casual attire. I do not wear business casual attire of my own free will, and I was not pleased to have to do it on the first day of school. My friends are already worried about the "mini Bekah revolution" as Kate calls it, which began with not getting cable in my new apartment, progressed to not typing my notes, and now involves wearing black "slacks" and a "nice blouse" (don't worry, I refuse to call anything a "blouse." I think the only time I've seen that word is in the book for 7th grade Spanish as the translation for "blousa"). I got about 15,000 emails from chipper law review people about assignments and training sessions and free books in the law review suite (which, by the way, were all first year books--thanks).
At the meeting I was doing my best to fit in, but I seriously felt like there was a big red flashing arrow over my head saying "She is not gung ho law school. She snuck in with a case note. Make fun of her grade in Civ Pro." Ah, I'm sure it will be fine, but I'm a little concerned. Here's why. The editor, who is very nice, gave a welcoming speech in which he said, and I quote, "We even have parties where we can participate in social interaction." For the love of all that is holy. He also said things like, "This is a great responsibility. You will not let us down. You will do your assignments in a timely fashion. You will never leave the library..." I was beginning to think that there was a reason so many people were wearing all black (refer to title above).
Ok, I have to do my reading for my classes today...while the law review master has still not given me my first "assignment."
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
I've Got My Lunch Packed Up, My Boots Tied Tight, I Hope I Don't Get in a Fight...Ooooh, Back to School...
I'm trying to get a handle on my attitude about going back to school. I am still coming to terms with this, and I'm pretty hesitant to admit it, but...I'm actually a little excited to be starting classes again. A little, ok? Don't get all scared or anything. I'm still the same old ambivalent and discontented law school student. But, there are several things that are making me lean more towards "excited" than "horrified."
1. Dear God, the new notebooks. I have devised such a sweet system for this semester. If talk of perforated pages and tear-proof dividing tabs makes you bored (shame!), feel free to skip this part. If not, allow me to lay out the brilliance of my organizational scheme. First of all, I have to explain why I decided to write my notes this semester. I love typing them, and it is very fast (and fonts and colors are fun to play with), but the call of email and the internet is far too strong. I must force myself to pay attention. Even if The Onion beckons. I am going to be strong. Although this is only one step; I really have to work on limiting my cell phone Brick Attack playing time per day as well. I am the MASTER though.
So, back to the notebooks. I bought 2 5-subject notebooks, spiral bound with perforations. I removed 2 of the dividers from each notebook, and designated 2 subjects' space in the notebook for each of my four (dropped Environmental Law for now) classes. Are you following so far? This is important. The extra one subject at the back of each notebook will be for any extraneous things I might need to write. I also bought a vertical (!) accordion file for loose papers, which has removable folders for each class. I have new pens, and a new planner. I have a separate accordion file for law review. Bring it!
2. I can take interesting classes now.
3. I know what a tort is already.
4. I have a well-solidified core group of friends. It's such a luxury not to have to make them this time around.
Ok, that's good enough. All this thinking about going back to school is making me less excited to do it. The amount of explication given for each reason listed above may or may not indicate its importance. I would never mean to imply that notebooks are more significant than friends, for example. When the honeymoon of the first few weeks is over, the notebooks will be tattered and messy, and my friends will still be there. Yet another reason why friendships with inanimate objects are not the most fulfilling kind. Now kiss your computer goodbye and go outside!
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
Am I That Transparent?
Inside the mind of Bekah. Sunday night. In a neighborhood bar chatting with friends. Watch a boy and his girlfriend (?) playing darts. Watch the strange man at the dart board next to them doing weird Tai Chi moves (holding the darts out and gazing at them for extended periods of time before throwing them with a dramatic flourish and a toss of the head). Laugh at his expense. Watch the boy from dart board #1 walk over to the jukebox and program some songs. Hear Pete Yorn's "Crystal Village" come on. Become vaguely-to-moderately impressed with boy's choice (as compared to Linkin Park and Dave Matthews). Consider again whether the girl is his girlfriend. Wait for a lull in conversation.
Bekah: That guy just put on Pete Yorn. That's pretty cool. I don't like the second album as much, but still, there are several songs...
Bekah: (casually) Sooo...anyone want to come over to the jukebox with me? I really want to hear--
Costa: No Bekah, no. You just want to impress that guy with your musical selections. And besides, everyone's ready to go home.
Bekah: Oh. Right. Yeah (fake yawns), I was ready to go anyway...
It's scary when your friends know you this well.
Sunday, August 17, 2003
And You May Ask Yourself, How Did I Get Here?
Ok, I just figured out how to see how random people stumble upon my site, (via Google searches, etc.) and I have to say that the truth isn't pretty. In fact, it's a little scary. Here are my favorites so far:
1. Google search for "phallic vegetables" (yikes)
2. Google search for "naked Halloween" (I thought such an event only existed in my warped mind)
3. AOL search for "color of toenails for gay men with pictures" (no idea whatsoever)
4. Google search for "TEXAS LEGAL SYSTEM IS CORRUPT" (sweet)
5. Google search for "law school sucks" (right on dude, you've come to the right place)
6. Google search for "flip flops" and "law school" (my soul mate)
Sick bastards. Go get your kicks somewhere else.
Important Questions Pondered At 2:00am
Is there something wrong with you if you're filled with envy and self-doubt because your yogurt is "cultured" and your crackers are "entertaining"?
I'm an Assho-eo-eole...
I would like to take this opportunity to publicly apologize for not calling my New York friends (M.G., A.B., and everyone else), after the blackout to make sure they were OK. It was very inconsiderate of me. I am very very very sorry, and I hope you're both cleaning up the last of your refrigerator nastiness. I love you, and I really am sorry!
Oh, that reminds me of an apology technique I learned from a few of my friends a long, long time ago and have since passed on to all of the friends I've made along the way. And now, I will pass it on to you. Right after you say or do something that offends one of your friends, immediately say "You're pretty" in a very sweet, sincere voice. It does wonders, I swear, especially if you have a good puppy dog eye look. Hmm, come to think of it, this may only work for girls. With a guy, it might just add fuel to the fire. Anyway, it's worth a shot.
Saturday, August 16, 2003
Bekah’s Mix # 1,425,873 (approximately): “Costa’s Birthday Mix”
(Kind of spoils the surprise for her, but what the hell. Happy early birthday, Cost! Justin Timberlake made a special appearance just for you!)
1. Brand New Jude Law and a Semester Abroad
2. Pete Yorn Crystal Village
3. Sleater-Kinney One Beat
4. Bright Eyes Lover I Don’t Have to Love
5. Old 97’s Salome
6. Justin Timberlake Like I Love You
7. Spoon Someone Something
8. Ryan Adams La Cienega Just Smiled
9. Jimmy Eat World Blister
10. Built to Spill Car
11. Jurassic 5 Thin Line
12. Idlewild You Held the World in Your Arms
13. AFI The Leaving Song
14. Jayhawks Stumbling Through the Dark
15. R.E.M. Sitting Still
16. The Shins Caring is Creepy
17. Radiohead Where I End and You Begin
18. Interpol Obstacle 2
19. Elliott Speed of Film
20. Whiskeytown Inn Town
Please see my entry on Thursday, March 27, 2003, for a detailed account of my mixing guidelines and methods. I can't link to that for you because I am a moron.
Link of the Day
Thanks to Patrick for sending me this link and allowing me to discover the joys of the Creation Science Fair. I especially enjoy the projects entitled "Women Were Designed for Homemaking" and "Rocks Can't Evolve, Where Did They Come From Mr. Darwin?"
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Toothbrushes, Airbrushes, and Brushes With Greatness
There's been a growing public obsession with white teeth over the last year or so. Strips, paints, toothpastes, mouthwashes, treatments, etc. Now, I do think yellow teeth are gross, and I'm thankful for all of the dentists who have prevented me from looking like I've been living on cigars and Espresso my whole life. But I'm also not so sure that teeth are really supposed to be laser-jet-printer-paper-white. I don't think that's the color of enamel, I don't think that color occurs in nature, and I don't think a perfectly pearly white smile is an attainable goal. Which has gotten me thinking about the misconceptions we have about ourselves and others. Our air-brush culture. Like Debra Messing on the cover of whatever magazine it was, when she suddenly, thanks to remarkable (and I mean really incredible) feats of airbrush technique, grew breasts. Or a stretched-out photo of Kate Winslet in lingerie, prompting her to step up and say, "this is not what I look like." I realize that this is old news; the fact that we live in an image-controlled, touched-up society is a truism at this point. (It's a truism, at least, for most of us, but not for the 11 year old girls who starve themselves because they think Lara Flynn Boyle is the epitome of beauty. Great Simpsons exchange, by the way: "Aaah!" "What is it?" "Oh nothing, I just sat on Lara Flynn Boyle.").
All of this is really just a socially-conscious segue into something quite trivial: a short account of one of my favorite (and one of my only) brushes with fame. I begin this way merely to illustrate that the few times I have run into famous people, they have been nothing like their public selves--or at least nothing like I expected them to be. Scratch the surface, and everyone's...a little discolored.
I met Trent Reznor (NIN lead singer) last semester at a bar. I was standing with a friend about two feet away from him. We both spotted him at the same time, and looked at each other with excitement and disbelief (my friend and I looked at each other; Trent Reznor was talking to someone else at the time). I was feeling brave, so I went over to talk to Trent (yeah, we're tight like that now) and his crew. I walked up to him and said, "You aren't doing a very good job of fitting in." He responded, "Really, what am I doing wrong?" "Nothing, you're being...you." We chatted a little bit about where he lives and what he's up to these days. And then several things started to dawn on me. 1) Trent Reznor is short, probably only slightly taller than I am; 2) Trent Reznor is quite shy and awkward in conversation, and is very kind and considerate to slightly annoying fans; and 3) I honestly cannot picture the Trent Reznor I met in the bar singing some of the lyrics that I know he sings. It was refreshing. Later in the evening I introduced my friend Matt to "Trent" as if we'd been friends forever. Pretty sweet. I realized that yes, Trent Reznor looks totally hard and kick ass on the cover of Rolling Stone, and he does sing lyrics that chill middle America to its very core, but he's really just a nice guy who goes out for a drinks with his friends over the weekend. The final lesson I learned that night was something we all already know, but sometimes tend to forget: No one is magazine-ready all the time and no one is as easy to peg as we might think, but we can all be rockstars.
Ok Trent, I wrote about you like you wanted. Call me, ok?
Monday, August 11, 2003
New Southern Bumper Sticker Favorites: (seen and/or purchased in gas stations on my way home)
1. YES LORD We Will Ride With You.
2. If 10% is enough for The Lord, it's enough for the IRS.
3. I didn't claw my way to the top of the food chain to eat VEGETABLES.
4. Heaven is Real. Do you have reservations?
5. Have you talked to the lord lately? (Written with the word "Lord" in the style of the Ford logo, as in "Have you driven a Ford lately?" Good, right?
And then, there's this one, which crosses the line from funny redneck piety and idiocy (which I appreciate and derive a great deal of pleasure from) to sheer ignorance (which saddens me greatly):
"I Have a Dream" written alongside a picture of the Rebel Flag flying on top of the Capital building.
Friday, August 08, 2003
Welcome, Confused and Defenseless 1Ls! Welcome!
Ah, it's getting to be that time. The time when a new crop of law students will be entering the prestigious doors of law schools throughout the land. And what will be waiting for them? Not just scary professors and heavy books. Oh no. Something even more daunting lurks beyond every law school threshold: single 2 and 3Ls.
How do I know that single upperclassmen and women pose a threat? I am one of them. My friends and I have long been hatching schemes for "helping" the 1Ls. You see, when you've completely given up hope on your own classmates (in romantic terms, at least), there is nothing more intriguing than the novelty of the 1L class. Add to this the fact that every hapless 1L will be frightened, confused, and impressionable, and you've got yourself some seriously good odds. "Oh, you have Professor Demonheart for Torts? I had him too! He's [insert seemingly priceless tidbits about teaching and exam style], and I will be happy to give you [commercial outlines, my personal outline, one on one tutorials, ego-boosting peptalks, home-cooked meals, monetary compensation]..."
You see, 2 and 3Ls aren't bad people. We simply do what we've been trained to do. We "think like lawyers." We know that 1L year is a difficult time. We know that 1Ls are looking for assistance during that difficult time. And we know that the best relationships are based on fear and dependency. Thus, we have used our deductive reasoning to conclude that 1Ls are fair game, and we're all (admit it) ready to pounce.
So look out, darling 1Ls. Be on your guard. Countless Mrs. Robinsons are hiding in the guises of "tutor" and "mentor," and yes, they are trying to seduce you.
So, I wasn't going to say anything, but I just can't resist. There is a pirate at my Starbucks. He wears a patch and has multiple maritime tattoos. He has long hair. He does not have a parrot, but he does wear a baseball hat. He does not have a hook. He may or may not have a peg leg. He may or may not say "argh" and "matee." He does yawn extremely obtrusively, and he does make a scene if his coffee is not to his liking. I enjoy him immensely, and I'm thankful for his daily pirate presence. I hope he is not scheduled to set sail any time soon.
Some Uncharacteristic Meta Talk
I don't really understand fancy html things, but I'm gradually learning how to link (and starting to read other blogs with more diligence), and I would like to try to link to more law school people when I get a chance. I'm kind of hesitant to get too involved in the law school blog circles because I don't always write about law school, and I don't want to disappoint people who think that's what they'll always hear about if they read my blog. Not to mention the fact that if I wrote about law school all the time I would shrivel up and die. I mostly write this blog to have something other than law school to do. Also, in response to a couple of inquiries, I don't have comments because a) I don't want my friends writing personal crap on this thing (you crazy bastards!), and b) I want to be personally responsible for everything written on this site. So sorry. I write this blog, and you don't, so you will listen to every damn word I have to say! (That's a movie quote, by the way. I'm not actually being mean. I love you!)
Also, I don't know how to do cool things like link to a specific post on another site, so I'm sorry if I don't always link as directly as I should. I added a few new blogs to my law school list today for specific reasons: Liable was very sweet and congratulated me on law review, and her blog has super cool links; Left Coast Expat made a brilliant Happy Gilmore allusion (one which (I swear) I too thought about when I saw Jesus and the girly golfer), and he's listening to The Shins (joy!); and Ambivalent Imbroglio complemented my blog's name and gave me some wonderful and much-needed "you don't really want a puppy right now" advice. As I become more blog-aware, I will try to continue to link to more law students. And now, I'm off to find the pirate and see if he needs a first mate!
Thursday, August 07, 2003
Put This in Your Cigar and Smoke it
I've read Freud's On Dreams. I know what his eminence has to say about stairways and death and cucumbers. But last night's dream goes way beyond phallic vegetables.
The first thing I remember is that a transvestite in a purple leotard and a Boy George shirt was teaching me how to do gymnastics. I was supposed to do a handspring on the vault, but the transvestite insisted that the vault be only 5 feet away from the wall. I refused to take a running jump at such a dangerous distance, and everyone in my class was mercilessly goading me ("Just answer the question, Claire...go on, answer the question!"). I ended up attempting the jump for what felt like hours. Finally I flipped over, landed on my ass, and the fall knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, I was at a bar celebrating Halloween in the pouring rain. Except this was Naked Halloween (scary!) and I was the only one who wasn't naked. Thus, more goading. Finally, a nice boy who was also clothed came over and started chatting with me and a few other people. I decided that he was pretty cool, and I thought that maybe there were some nice boys out there after all. Shortly thereafter I found out that he was actually a girl.
Um. I'm a disturbed person. Here's my take on the dream--although I'm obviously open to suggestions. The vaulting scenario represents my hesitance to take chances academically and emotionally, for fear of landing on my ass. In the dream, my fears were realized. The transvestite in the Boy George shirt is almost certainly a reincarnation of George, Adam Sandler's backup singer in The Wedding Singer, which I watched several weeks ago. I do not think the transvestite has significance beyond that, but I could be wrong. Perhaps the significance is that this transvestite was so obvious and garish in comparison to the one I met later in the dream. Which brings me to the naked part. In the dream, it was not as if I refused to be naked; I don't remember having a choice in the matter. I was basically forced to be an outsider. This represents my various inhibitions and insecurities, although, interestingly, it seems that the point would have been better made if I was the only naked one and everyone else was clothed. Stupid subconscious, get it right. And finally, my experience with the boy-who-turned-out-to-be-a-girl. I am certain that this represents my dissatisfaction with men in general. Freud may say that it's my anxiety about homosexuality--or some sort of personal fear of it lurking beneath the surface--except that Freud didn't believe that women had any sort of sexuality at all, so he probably wouldn't think much of it. I actually think it stems from a discussion I had yesterday about Gigli and how it's supposed to be really bad for lots of reasons, not the least of which being the premise that a lesbian (JLo) "changes" for a straight man (Affleck).
Just a general note about dreaming: I always dream in the third person. I'm never actually myself in a dream; instead, I am watching myself as if I'm the main character in a movie. I once read that this is how children dream until about the age of 10, when their "senses of self" become developed enough to dream in the first person. Right. I'm just a little bit of a late bloomer, I guess.
Update: Mel says, "I feel that the part about you being dressed represents the fact that you are kind of above the follies of the pick up scene." I like that. She also thinks I'm brave for sharing this dream, but please--my subconscious is no weirder than anyone elses. Admit it, we all have dreams with transvestites and purple leotards sometimes...don't we?
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
I had already given up and admitted defeat. I was really OK with it too; it was strangely liberating to be able to keep my "law school sucks" attitude, cooly dismissing it as something I just wasn't made for. "It's just not my thing," I would tell people. And I did (and do) feel that way much of the time. But I also knew that I was using those comments to shield my already bruised ego from more damage than a bunch of B's could do. If I could say that I was good at other things, I could ease the pain of not being good at law school. And I could denounce those who did succeed in law school as bad people, or boring people, or people I wasn't interested in associating with.
And then, I did something really confusing. I wrote on to Law Review.
Of course I am incredibly excited and validated. Of course I am thrilled to be able to say, "See, I may not make the best grades, but I can do this! I can write a case note!" But I am also nervous. I am apprehensive about having to prove myself, and having to produce so much legal material. Honestly, I'm scared of the law. But it's time for me to stop thinking about law school as an outsider. I am in this thing. And I have a lot of work to do.
Monday, August 04, 2003
Doodeedoo...Monday morning...Westlaw research...Lexis research...Starbucks research (peoplewatching)...
Wait, what's that? What did you say, Owen and Luke Wilson? Did you say that you are both madly in love with me, and are in serious danger of killing each other over me? Did you just say that the only three solutions you can think of would be for me to marry Owen and be Luke's mistress, marry Luke and be Owen's mistress, or move to Utah so I can marry both of you? Did you say you wanted to do that right now? That you were coming to Starbucks to pick me up in your private jets? That you're racing, and the jet that gets here first will be carrying the one I am going to marry? Oh my, how exciting! You know, it really is so very silly for you two to fight over me since I adore you both, but I suppose I'll allow this filial competition, since it can only end well. Well hurry along now, I can't stay here forever....
Friday, August 01, 2003
Down But Not Out
Looking objectively at the low points in your life can really help you begin to understand your place and purpose in the world. Like a drunken crack whore who wakes up one morning and says, "I'm sleeping in a gutter and my boyfriend is a strung out drummer in an 80's cover band. This is not what I want anymore. I'm going to clean myself up, buy myself some Lee press-on-nails, and start over. Perhaps I'll go to law school." Well, I'm in Starbucks now, doing research on Westlaw, and stifling tears in public because my parents won't let me get a puppy. Am I four years old? No. Is this a sad state of affairs? Yes, for several reasons. But the lesson to be learned is this: If forcing back silent tears in Starbucks due to the lack of puppies in my life is as bad as it gets for me, I'll count myself lucky.
Oh, speaking of drugs, I was talking to some of my friends about my aunt's experience on jury duty. Despite the fact that she's a lawyer, and despite the fact that she raised her hand when they asked whether anyone thought drugs should be legalized, my aunt ended up having to sit on a criminal jury in a crack possession case. I was trying to tell my friends that they ended up finding the woman guilty of attempted possession, but instead I said "attempted crack." Everyone burst into laughter, imagining the woman there with her crack pipe, trying her hardest to light it up. "Damn you crack pipe! Light! Light! Oh crap...the cops!" "Ma'am, you're being charged with attempted crack. The penalties are the same as for actual crack. It's not our fault that you're too incompetent to smoke it correctly. Moron."
Happy Note of the Day: There is an adorable woman who must be in her 60's enjoying a cup of coffee and giggling to herself while reading Harry Potter. I've never read Harry Potter, but I can appreciate the beauty of the scene anyway.