"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: mmbekah@yahoo.com


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

 
Just resurfacing for a quick update. After a few days of shameless stagnation (which I could get away with because J is out of town and I haven't had to pretend that I'm a motivated and productive "human being" and have instead spent the majority of the past few days in my running clothes, soaking up a good avocado mask and reading The Corrections), I've decided to turn on my computer. Incidentally, I don't pretend to be a human being around J because I feel that I have to; the presence of another person is just generally enough to motivate me to, say, cleanse myself, or get out of bed before 11. I sometimes worry that if I didn't have relationships with other people I would just cease to exist. Because other people are pretty much my reasons for doing anything at all. It seems. Anyway, I also did some shopping, and even remembered to wash the avocado mask off before I left the house--score! Shopping during the holidays is stressful for me because I get pissed off at myself for buying gifts for the sake of having something to give, and not thinking hard enough about what each person would really like. I think it would be so much better if everyone was required to get people a holiday present each year, but they could do it any time during the year when they happened to see something that the person would really want. Ok, yes, I guess people could do that anyway, and save the gifts until the holiday season. But that would be so contrary to our innate tendencies to procrastinate. Anyway, today I'm cleaning the apartment because it's still in finals mode and I can't take it anymore. The Swiffer is beckoning, and so I must leave you.


posted by Bekah at 3:37 PM :: |

 
Done. It's a little bit like trying to wrap three unweildy presents that you're not really sure were right for the occasion. The wrapping is a little ripped and might not be that pretty, but you think you have at least something inside that the recipient will like. I just hope one of them doesn't turn out to be poop in a box...I don't think they give you good grades for that.

My head hurts and my eyes won't stay open. Later. Much. Later.


posted by Bekah at 4:15 PM :: |

 
Ernesto

For the past 5 minutes, rather than working on my Trusts & Estates outline, I've been constructing an elaborate back story based around the name I just gave my new computer: Ernesto. Ernesto is an attractive, slender Puerto Rican metrosexual who regularly applies product to make his hair firm and glossy. His jeans have the distressed look (though they cost $300) and his mock turtleneck is ribbed and fitted. He wears cologne, but not too much, and he has just the slightest amount of bling. He dates casually, but has a fear of commitment because he's been burned once before by a lovely young marketing executive named Angelina who has very long fingernails and meticulously plucked eyebrows. He is androgynous, but has a low, sultry voice and a large adam's apple. He listens very carefully when people speak to him, and only speaks once he's thought his words out very carefully. He is up on the latest technological trends, and calls his mother once a week on a videophone (he bought her a matching one for mother's day). He has a pet bulldog named Rocco. That's all I'm sure of for now. More on the life and times of my computer later.


posted by Bekah at 8:00 PM :: |

 
Exams are Here

Me: (holding up my green tea) See, this is the most economical thing you can get here. You can fill it up with water 2 or 3 more times. See how much tea they pack into the pouch? It's good. It's the best ever. I'm excited. Oh yeah. Rock on.
J: ...I'm in hell.


posted by Bekah at 7:14 PM :: |

 
Exams looming.

Computer broke.

Got new one because I am one lucky little wench.

Condensed versions of outlines are next on the agenda; then flashcards.

Must workie; no talkie.

No speaka in complete sentences.

Sorry.

Leave happy thoughts.


posted by Bekah at 1:37 PM :: |

 
Finding a Happy Place...

It's amazing when all the forces of the universe align for one spectacular moment. Like when you don't want to take any of the classes offered by your school, but you wake up at 7:00am to register anyway, at which time your computer decides that it doesn't want you to take any classes offered either and promptly stops working, so then you call the registrar to register over the phone, at which time you realize the school doesn't want you to take any of the classes offered because the entire registration system isn't working. So you've spent over an hour trying to register for classes you don't even like, and now it's too late to go for a run.

I understand that technical issues are impossible to completely control, but it would help if a law school that takes hundreds and hundreds of thousands of dollars from its students every year could have some accountable person ALIVE and AWAKE during the registration period to do a little bit of damage control. A lot of my friends are really pissed because they couldn't get into classes they wanted to take. I don't really have that problem because the "caring" switch in my brain has been flipped off for the duration of exam time, but I'm outraged on principle, because that's what I do.

Now I'm sitting in a coffeehouse trying to outline and watching a man bathe in front of me. (He disappeared into the bathroom for about 20 minutes, after which period he emerged holding reams of paper towels and sat down in front of me). He is now rubbing said paper towels all over his body. This process results in loud scratching and grunting sounds, but does not result in the cleansing of his person, largely because there is no soap or water involved in this process. Just a lot of grunting and staring at me.

I will miss this city.


posted by Bekah at 4:08 PM :: |

 
Today's Worries

That the old woman who constantly wanders around my neighborhood picking up leaves and trash out of the gutter will break into my apartment and attack me in my sleep. Morbid, I know, but you haven't seen this lady. She really freaks me out. I had a nightmare about it.

That the recent surge of totally random childhood memories I've been having (coming to me without any provocation or triggering event) is evidence of some evil plot that my subconscious is concocting without my knowledge.

That the new REM album has this gorgeous song with some really beautiful imagery--it's track three if you want to listen--but at the end of it, just when the music should be fading out, rapper Q-Tip makes a most unfortunate appearance for absolutely no reason and ruins everything by making me either laugh, squirm uncomfortably, or, worst of all, fear for Michael Stipe's musical judgment.

That Felicity Huffman may be the one to die tonight on Desperate Housewives. Not that I think the producers would ever pick her to be the one to go, but the option is there and it worries me.

That Morris Bart is going to read my blog and sue me for libel. Note to all: the post below is a joke. Morris Bart was never actually Joe Bob's attorney, and I don't know anything about his professional life. Luckily he is a public figure so I definitely have some leeway under the First Amendment. Side note: I went to the Bartman's website just for fun and discovered that in addition to "One Call, That's All!" he also uses, in the internet context, "One Click, That's It!" Catchy, right? Unfortunately, it doesn't rhyme. I may contact him and tell him that "One Click Does the Trick" would be better. Easier on the ears.


posted by Bekah at 1:26 PM :: |

 
Thanksgiving Day Race Relations

This morning I ran the 5 mile Turkey Day Race with my dad, who is in town for the holidays. (I should make it clear that my dad is an actual runner who used to race quite frequently. His PR for a 5 mile race is 27 minutes. Twenty. Seven. Minutes. That's what you might call obscenely speedy. So needless to say I didn't really run the race with him, so much as in his dust). It was actually very cold this morning and made for great race weather. I was the 91st woman, with a time of 42:38. My dad ran it in 35:42--not bad for an old dude, huh?

The best part of the race was my celebrity encounter. I was running along in mile two, not pushing it too hard, and suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw Morris Bart. For those of you who aren't from around here, Morris Bart is the lawyer who holds the license to the phrase "one call that's all" for this particular area. He has no fees or expenses unless he collects for you. He got Joe Bob $500,000 for the stubbed toe he suffered while robbing your aunt Mae's house. Anyway, I saw him run up next to me and immediately said, "Oh no no...I'm a 3L in law school--I can't let you beat me!" He just laughed and we chatted for about five minutes about where I was from and what kind of law I was interested in, and then he sped up and was gone. He was actually quite nice. Good runner too.


posted by Bekah at 12:01 PM :: |

 
What I Thought About this Morning on the Drive to Campus to Drop off J's Time Sheets at the Student Employment Office Because He Forgot to Drop them off Before he Left to go home for Thanksgiving and I Am Nice

…I can’t believe I forgot where I parked my car last night after class. Legitimately forgot. I mean, I actually got to the spot where I thought my car was parked and panicked because I just knew it had been stolen and I was standing there for an entire minute before I put it together. Man. It’s not even exam time yet...Maybe I need to take some vitamins or something. Garlique perhaps. Wait, isn't that like Beano? So Echinacea then…or the Flintstones vitamins. Or did they stop selling those in the 80’s? Are the Flintstones even on TV anymore? I can’t remember ever watching the show really, but I definitely took the vitamins because I remember liking the orange ones best….Orange flavored things have a storied history with me. I liked those orange vitamins, but then I went through a period where I hated orange juice, but now I like it, even the pulp, if it's not too chunky....and I think I always liked the orange tootsie roll pops...Hey, nice blinker, ass. Thanks for the warning there. And nice W sticker, too...figures...Yeah, I am really liking this posthumous Elliott Smith album. Track 7 is good. And 3. Some really atmospheric stuff. Poignant. More so because of that article I read that said the coroner ended up ruling his cause of death inconclusive...Everyone just assumed suicide because he was a sad person but there were two stab wounds and although they say that suicide by stabbing often involves hesitation wounds, the angle of these wounds was inconclusive. Creepy…Ugh, why won’t that image of the U2 iPod commercial get out of my head…I don’t get U2 worshippers. I want all of these people to clear their minds and really think about “Vertigo.” The song is mindnumbing. Trite, boring, and loud…I don’t get it. Oh, and they were really gross on SNL the other night—Old Bono gyrating awkwardly and shaking his greasy hair—this is Rock and Roll? Still, they were probably the highlight of the show because it really is almost impossible to watch SNL now. It’s completely reduced to the “let’s take one thing that isn’t funny and do it 50 times in a row” motif...not effective...and Horatio Sanz is still not funny, only fat, and while fatness can sometimes be paired with comedic talent, it is never, ever, indicative of it on its own…oh, and to make things worse, U2 and Macintosh are forming the evilest of the evil corporate conglomerates known to man and it is terrifying…personalized U2 iPods? The world is ending…but I feel guilty because I really want an iPod anyway, just not the U2 one because that is fascist...you know, I think I should have read Madame Bovary at this point in my life, but I haven't…I wonder if it's any good…I don’t read enough. I am stupid, and getting stupider by the day. I can’t have intelligent conversations with people anymore, about Chaucer or Heidegger or Mary Kate's latest struggles and heartaches...Law school is sucking my will to live…I think Tom Wolfe looks a lot like Mr. Burns...I wonder if that's on purpose...not on purpose like Tom Wolfe is trying to look like Mr. Burns...but maybe on purpose like Matt Groening has something against Bonfire of the Vanities...another book I haven't read all the way through...and...yes, it is in fact raining now just in time for me to get out of the car...


posted by Bekah at 10:49 AM :: |

 
Apology to the Haiku Gods

First let me just say for the record that I was not really trying to compose legitimate poetry about the MPRE. I used the words "poop" and "trench foot" for God's sake. But, to appease the Haiku devotees out there, I will submit this brief statement of evaluation referring to each of Michael Dylan Welch's (what a poetry-drenched name!) 10 tips for writing Haiku:

1. I was wrong to use only the "Western convention" of 3 lines, 5-7-5 separated, 17-syllable formation. It's what I remembered from 4th grade. I think the ones I wrote then were probably better, though equally stifled, choppy, and Westernized I'm sure.

2. I didn't include a reference to the "season or time of year" in any of the "poems," so that's bad. Although they are all about MPRE time, so maybe that counts.

3. Only four out of five of my "poems" were written in the present tense. I now know that, for the sake of immediacy, haiku should always be in the present tense. Thus, the fourth one should read:

A pencil gently taps in autumn
as my brain
explodes

4. I think I might have gotten this one: I wrote about common, everyday events within the context of the MPRE. I never attempted to answer any questions about the meaning of life. But then I never raised any questions about it either. This is a failing.

5. I wrote all of these poems by channeling my personal experience. My personal experience with the MPRE. It doesn't get more viscerally personal than THAT.

6. This rule requires one to present what causes one's emotions, rather than to present the emotions themselves. Let's see...is trench foot an emotion, or the cause of an emotion? How about judges pooping? Hmm. No dice.

7. Haiku are supposed to be made up of two images together creating "harmony or contrast." Ethics and trench foot. Love and poop. Pencils and exploding brains. That's all I've got.

8. A continuation of the previous rule--one image should be in one line, and the other image in two lines (not three separate images). See above, I guess. This is getting a little deep for me right now.

9. No titles or rhyming. Check.

10. No awkward and unnatural line breaks. Yeah, I did some of that. Choppy, unnatural, even unfortunate run-ins with semicolons and question marks.

So, in conclusion, I must admit that none of the five "poems" I wrote is really a haiku. If I had to venture a guess as to which ones might pass for the most haiku-ish of the horrendously bad haiku below, I'd have to say:

Poem #1: Haiku-ish. No punctuation. Some imagery. Contrast. One of the better attempts.
Poem #2: As noted above, love and poop are two images that create an undeniable contrast in one's mind. Although not seasonal, the flow of this haiku is somewhere between distressed and disturbed--a much better effort than some of the others. What is more natural than judges pooping? Haiku-ish.
Poem #3: No imagery, no flow. Just a question that I've often asked myself split up in three lines. Not haiku-ish.
Poem #4: Would probably be somewhat haiku-ish if written in present tense to reflect the immediacy of the exploding brain in nature. See revised #4 above.
Poem #5: Also, just a random 17 syllable musing of mine. No imagery, seasonal emotion, contrast, or flow. Not haiku-ish.

Final Thought: It just occurred to me that the Law of Haiku may be too rigid in its application. As with Trademark Law, there is no real room for parody, or joking around, or being generally flippant. Any joking haiku-ish things are judged against the same strict statutory requirements as real haiku. This seems a little bit unfair, and a little bit dogmatic. Perhaps if the letter of the law will not pardon me, the Bard Review Board will come up with a remedy in equity?


posted by Bekah at 8:00 PM :: |

 
Some hastily written, fake haiku-ish rubbish inspired by the MPRE.

It's unethical
To create an ethics test
That's worse than trench foot.

My mother loves me
Even though I'm just not sure
Where a judge may poop.

If the Model Rules
Are printed right in a book,
Why memorize them?

The guy on my right
Started tapping his pencil.
My brain exploded.

It is funny when
Test questions have no answers;
Wait, no it isn't.


posted by Bekah at 7:44 PM :: |

 
Mental Blocks

One of the most interesting things about human beings is that we can learn from our experiences and change our habits based on new knowledge. But it's so strange to me that there are some things that, no matter how often they happen, always come as a surprise. For example, there's this familiar line of thought: "Wow, my stomach really hurts. Ouch. I don't feel good at all. I'm kind of irritable, and I've been snapping at people a lot. That's just not like me. Also, I've got a little bit of a headache. That's weird. I didn't think I was getting sick. What could this mean? I don't think I've eaten anything funny. Let's see...well, it's the second week of the mon--ah yes, right. Got it." Now, girls will agree with me, many of us go through this line of reasoning every month, despite the fact that we experience these symptoms 12 times a year, pretty much right at the same time. So strange. (Any guys who are offended or grossed out by this need to chill out. It's a beautiful, natural thing).

I was reminded of this phenomenon again yesterday. I strolled into Office Depot to get printer paper and cartridges (in preparation for the mass outline printing that is looming in the not so distant future). While there, I came upon those highlighters WITH THE TABS INSIDE. Glorious miracles of modern science! I picked up a pack. I then went to the coffeehouse to do the reading for my Tuesday night class. As I was doing the reading, I noticed that I was more interested in the material than usual. I was paying close attention to the cases and highlighting thoroughly. I felt slightly motivated (as opposed to overwhelmingly uninterested). I wondered what brought about this sea change in my world view. My gaze fell to the table and I caught a glimpse of the highligher out of the corner of my eye. The highligher! At the end of every semester, I always forget how easy I am to manipulate. All I need to be transformed into a good student is a new batch of school supplies. And still, the fact that tabs and highlighters are the key to my scholastic mental health always ends up surprising me. Very odd.

Ok, that's all. Anyway, people's brains are funny things. Sorry about the random reference to women's troubles.


posted by Bekah at 7:40 AM :: |

 
Seasonal Survey

I bitch a lot about it, I know, but when the weather is nice in this town there really is nothing like it. Based on the brisk 77 degree weather today, I'm feeling very seasonal. So in the spirit of the season, I'd like to pose a question to you all: What is your favorite thing about fall? Answer promptly and creatively. And no, you can't use "the smell of fireplaces wafting over the tops of red and yellow trees" because it's trite. And because that's my favorite thing, and I get first dibs.

[On a related note, I went for a run today (I'm taking it slow, don't worry) around 11:00a.m. and people were wearing sweatshirts. Sweatshirts. Now, when it is under 80 degrees outside and the breeze is not hot, I would think people would want to actually enjoy that relatively uncommon occurrence by not wearing clothes that turn them into human ovens. Wearing a sweatshirt on a day like this actually makes your experience worse than it would be if you were running in normal New Orleans heat. But, then again, it's not like people in this state are known for making rational choices.]


posted by Bekah at 7:44 PM :: |

 
On The Election, November 2, 2004

Shall I compare this country to a tree?
We are more flimsy and more changeable.
Rough winds do shake our dear democracy:
And like a leaf we tremble 'neath their pull.
Yet other times we are far too steadfast,
And cannot budge despite the facts at hand,
Even a tree’s fall colors do not last;
For leaves know when to cling, or fall to land.
But maybe this steadfastness helps us too,
For we will plant our feet in protest down,
Americans know well what we must do:
We’ll make a forest on the White House lawn.
The trees will grow and so will Dubya’s fears:
For he will come to know—these trees have ears.

That's not a threat, that's a promise. I love the smell of Democracy in the morning.


posted by Bekah at 10:46 AM :: |

 
Every Cloud

Today was glorious, weatherwise at least. This morning it was in the low 60's, sun shining, low humidity, birds chirping. A generally perfect day. But I couldn't go for a run because of horribly debilitating shin splints (of the medial tibia persuasion, or something) that have made it painful to even walk since Tuesday morning. I think that 12 mile run might have had something to do with it. It felt great at the time, but my longest run before that had been 10, and I'd been maxing out at 8 for weeks in terms of my long runs, so I think my body rebelled. Anyway, I felt like everywhere I went today I saw people joyfully jogging around with a brisk autumnal bounce in their steps. And I wanted to strangle them all. Because I am just a bundle of roses lately. So there's that.

Has a Silver Lining

But...we all knew that even in the face of bitter defeat we couldn't wallow in humorlessness for long. Here are a few lighthearted sites to bring smiles to those Eeyore frowns.

Marry an American! (thanks, Kate!)

Revised Map (thanks, Eric!)


posted by Bekah at 10:00 PM :: |

 
Aftermath

I've been on the verge of tears all day. Granted, it's partly because I'm tired. But it's mostly because over the past months I truly came to support and care about John Kerry as a candidate, as opposed throwing myself at the mercy of "anyone but Bush." Kerry's personality really started to come through, and I began to understand what a principled and fundamentally kind person he really is.

I watched part of his concession speech in the law school lobby earlier today, backpack on my shoulders, straps gripped tightly. There was only one other person in the lobby with me; a boy I didn't know passing through on his way to class. We both stood there listening to Kerry's eloquent words and everything started to sink in. My eyes filled up uncontrollably. I looked over at the boy next to me and saw the same look of disappointment and compassion in his eyes. They were glassy too. We stood there in silence for several minutes and then went our separate ways.

It is going to take a lot to pull us out of the rubble and get us to feel optimistic again. I don't think it's a lost cause, but I definitely feel a different mood among Democrats now. Suddenly, when I think of the "You Forgot Poland" website that I jokingly linked only days ago, I can't even crack a smile. Luckily we can rest assured that people tend to see things in black and white, and the pendulum of public opinion that's all the way on the right will have to swing back sometime. It's only a question of when--and how much damage will be done before it heads back our way.


posted by Bekah at 10:03 PM :: |

 
I am ill. Literally. I don't feel like I know this country at all. After seeing everything that's happened and knowing all that's at stake, people are still willing to have a truly ridiculous person in office--a person with despicable motives that have nothing to do with the welfare of the American people--just so they don't have to worry about "the gays" getting married or about someone taking their guns away. This country is more socially conservative than ever, and the gap between Democrats and Republicans is impossibly wide. I honestly don't know what's going to happen. It's almost 4 in the morning, and I am in complete despair.

Update: I am still in shock. Not in shock about losing necessarily, but in shock because it had never really clicked with me how willfully blind people in America can be. A man can show steadfastness and reason, win every debate he entered, make his opponent look incompetent, and still not get the popular vote for President. This is not the popular vote for the better beer bonger. It's the popular vote for President of the United States. And it went to Bush.

That said, I realize that many Democrats won't like this kind of talk. "Don't mope, mobilize," and whatnot. But this is going to be hard to shake.

posted by Bekah at 3:31 AM :: |

 
Editorial: Mixtape Marathon Joins Legions of Periodicals Endorsing Senator John Kerry (Gasp!)

At the risk of compromising this publication's dedication to evenhandedness and impartiality, we here at Mixtape Marathon have made the almost laughably easy decision to endorse John Kerry for President. Along with The New York Times, The New Yorker, The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, The Chicago Sun-Times, The Gainesville Sun, The San Francisco Chronicle, The Miami Herald, The Detroit Free Press, The Day in New London, CT (hometown of my alma mater) and literally hundreds more newspapers and magazines around the country, I am giving Bush a resounding "hell no."

Why? Because the "one fingered victory salute" scares me (thanks Scott), and that is not what a President should do. Because I don't want a President who I can "relate to" or who is "just like us" or who can sometimes "speak English;" I want a President who is more intelligent, more capable, more articulate, and more informed than the general population. Because I care about the future of women's reproductive rights and, relatedly, about the makeup of the Supreme Court. Because I think gay people are human beings with human rights. Because I don't want a President who considers the elite to be "his base." Because I want those children who aren't left behind to also have money and textbooks and a realistic chance to improve their standardized test scores. Because I want a President who is principled, yet not dogmatic. Because I agree that the President's job is to "win the peace." And mostly because I am not buying the Bush camp's war cry that everything is just fine in America and that Bush's plans are "working."

The discontent in America is thick and only getting thicker. People want a change. Some people are willing to move to Timbuktu if they don't see that change. I personally believe that this country is in dire need of inspiration. This does not inspire me. I am inspired by intelligence, integrity, activism, reason, compassion, idealism, perseverance, dedication, service, and strength. I want to see John Kerry as the next President of the United States.


posted by Bekah at 1:41 PM :: |

 
Halloween: Can't Stop the Music

So, some of my girlfriends and I are going to be the Village People for Halloween. We've got the construction worker, the cowboy, the person of Native American descent, the policeman, the biker, and me, the army guy. Of course, if you know anything about Halloween customs, you realize that we are obviously going to be feminized variations on the original Village People characters. As we all know, there's no better opportunity to wear knee-high boots than Halloween. I'm excited to see all of the other costumes, and I'm really excited to wear mine. It includes: Black boots, khaki skirt, camo shirt, artillery helmet, and a bullet belt. I don't have a weapon, but I'm hoping to scrounge up a water gun. Or maybe I'll just get a hand grenade in the Quarter (of the drinkable variety). Oh, I kid, I kid.

By the way, I hope people know that I'm dressing up as a specific character and not meaning to offend people who are actually serving in the army and don't wear boots with three inch heels regularly. Although I suppose Halloween is a time when all bets are off in terms of being offensive. I've known someone to be a placenta for god's sake.

Note: If you are panicky and confused because you thought that the Village People included a sailor, please see the following excerpt of an email I recently composed:

I know that some of you were very concerned about whether or not there was in fact a sailor in the original Village People. I did some research on the matter and discovered that the army character, one Alexander Briley, was initially in charge of most of the musical arrangements for the People. Later, the group decided that he needed a costume too. So when the group performed "In the Navy" he was a sailor, but he was an army man the rest of the time. And so, my friends, the mystery of the army/navy guy in the Village People is finally solved. Considering that I have a $17 artillery helmet and lots of bullets, I will be sticking with Alexander's army persona for the evening.


posted by Bekah at 9:09 AM :: |

 
I've been informed that the post previously occupying this space was offensive to several people of my acquaintance, so I've decided to let it go. No need for comments at all--I'd actually rather that this didn't spark a discussion. Instead, I only hope that in the future people will not interpret my posts as mean-spirited unless they are directed at: the Yankees (or individual players associated with that ball club), Donald Rumsfeld, Carrot Top, that scary blond lady on Court TV with the crazy eyes, or Ashlee Simpson (she's defenseless, I know, but she's rich now so I can say she sucks with impunity). For future reference, I'm hoping that the tone of my posts will hereinafter be seen as "slightly abrasive with a hint of whimsy." Sincere apologies to anyone offended. I'll try to stick to lampooning myself and the aforementioned open targets from now on.


posted by Bekah at 9:54 PM :: |

 
Are you there God? It's me, Bekah.

God, remember when I told you that I would make the commitment to run through the summer heat because I knew that you would reward me with glorious weather in October? Remember when I justified long, sticky August runs with the thought that soon the air would be clear and crisp and it would all be worth it? I know you remember this, God. So why, on October 21, do you insist on plaguing me with 98% humidity and a projected heat index of 100 degrees?

Is it because I didn't go to services on Yom Kippur? I'm sorry! I atone! I atone! Is it because I had impure thoughts about Johnny Damon? I'm sorry! I can't help that he is wonderful and glorious and largely responsible for the victory in game 7. Is it because I made fun of Curt Schilling when he said the reason he pitched so well in game 6 was that he "became a Christian 7 years ago"? I'm sorry, God, but that was so lame!

Anyway, God, I know you're listening. I know you are teaching New Orleans a valuable lesson by giving it a taste of what it's like to be in the very pit of hell. But let me just assure you: the point is taken. We get it. We know we are all evil, drunken sinners. Now can it please be fall?


posted by Bekah at 10:07 AM :: |

 
Namecalling

There are two stuffed monkeys in our apartment. The larger one, given to me by my sister, is named Monkey. Apt, don't you think? The other, a smaller monkey wearing a Michigan shirt, is named D'Brickashaw Ferguson. It pains me to admit that I didn't come up with the name D'Brickashaw on my own. The little monkey is actually named after the left tackle for Virginia. Why? Because D'Brickashaw Ferguson is the absolute coolest name in the entire world. (By the by, if you disagree with that assessment I don't recommend telling the original D'Brickashaw--he's 6'5'', 295 lbs. And he's had a lifetime of namecalling on the playground to get worked up about).

My dear friend Costa recently hurt her back very badly and had to stay in the hospital for several days. When she emerged, she was still in a lot of pain. Adding insult to injury, her doctor made it clear that she would not be allowed to lift a backpack for quite some time. So what did darling Costa have to do? She had to buy a rolly bag. I don't know anyone in the world who made more fun of rolly bags than Costa, and it was a sad day when she first rolled into school. I named her bag Eunice. It's the only name that would do. Eunice is also a name that my college friends and I used to refer to our uteruses (uteri?) during certain uncomfortable times of the month. As I've illustrated, the name Eunice is applicable to a variety of circumstances, all of which are annoying and/or uncomfortable.

My car's name is Franny, sometimes Fran. J's car's name is Oscar. Elliot's car's name is Oliver. J's old car's name is Ferdinand (he was a metrosexual). My old car's name was Elliott. My computer's name is Legolas. I named all of these things. I like to name things. Now I want to know all of your car/stuffed animal/assorted inanimate object names. Tell them to me. They better be good.


posted by Bekah at 1:00 PM :: |

 
Maternal Moments

There is some sort of baby invasion happening in this coffeehouse right now, and I'm feeling slightly overwhelmed. There's a little indie/hardcore kid with black low-top Chucks holding an adorable baby girl in a pink bonnet. Next to me is a gay couple with their baby, who's just babbling away like a mountain stream. Also, a small angelic girl is running around the place smiling at everyone and saying hello. In an environment like this, my biological clock stops ticking and instead starts pounding in my brain like a sledgehammer.

I'm usually pretty hesitant to concede to things like a maternal instinct (for obvious social and political reasons) but it is hard to deny the feeling I get in my stomach when I see babies now. Also, I saw that cheesy show on ABC where they build new houses for families who are dealing with some sort of tragic circumstance, and at the part where the mom was crying and talking about how her daughter who's allergic to the sun can now live and swim on their property safely I started crying because she loved her daughter so much. As I wiped away the tears, J was looking at me with an expression that can only be described as horror mixed with panic and disgust. He was already disturbed enough by the fact that I was watching this show, but to cry? To cry? It was too much. I don't know. For some reason I am as emotionally manipulatable as a child.

Things to Do Soon:

1. See Team America: World Police.
2. Start/finish outlines.
3. Send in absentee ballot.
4. Decide whether buying a "Fuck Bush" button would be (1) really cool, (2) Too edgy and more than slightly offensive, or (3) Too 70's. Incidentally, I've been wearing several political buttons on my jean jacket lately, and I think I look like my mom must have looked in the 70's. Except my buttons say things like "Kerry/Edwards: Vote Sexy" (over pink silhouettes) and "Mad Cowboy Disease" (over W.'s fat face).
5. Finish Jane Eyre. (I've been "almost done" for about 5 months...)


posted by Bekah at 11:58 AM :: |

 
Homecoming Weekend

J and I went to Ann Arbor for homecoming last weekend (his, not mine) and enjoyed some glorious weather and some seriously pants-pooping football (in a good way). We visited with J's friends and were reminded that somewhere in the world it is below 80 degrees in mid-October. I got to go for fantastic, hilly runs in lovely 55 degree weather with the sun shining the whole time. I was spoiled. The Homecoming game was great too--such a nailbiter. We went to a tailgate before the game where there was more deep fried "fill in the the blank" than I've ever seen. Mushrooms, french fries, pirogis, tortilla chips, and even a duck all went into the frier. No Twinkies though. It was pretty gross, but really cool at the same time. It's good to see people so dedicated to a cause--so completely invested in what they're doing. Even if it does involve frying everything but their boots.

During the game I was mostly fine with the student section, but my experience was slightly tarnished by one obnoxious Neanderthal behind me. Toward the end, I turned around to check out the scoreboard and this kid randomly complemented my Kerry-Edwards sticker. I smiled and said thanks, thinking I'd found a kindred spirit (Ann Arbor is supposed to be liberal, right?), but instead he gave me a thumbs up/thumbs down combo while sticking out his tongue (Adam Sandler style), and proceeded to tell me that I might as well cheer for Minnesota if I'm going to wear a dumbass sticker like that. I just kind of stood there, stupefied, much like his fearless leader tends to do whenever he's forced to formulate a sentence without one of his oft-rehearsed catch phrases. What is wrong with people? Do we seriously need to resort to sticking our tongues out at each other? Blaaah, you forgot Poland! Blaaah! Neener. Jeez.

Anyway, it was a fun weekend, and I'm not excited to be back, and I am not excited that the semester is half over. Oh, and I got another rejection letter, but with a fun twist: this firm rejected my application for a job I didn't even ask for! They regretted to tell me that there was no place in their summer internship program. Which is fine, except I asked them for full time employment upon my graduation. To my mind, this signifies a serious loophole. As J mused, "So you're sayin' there's a chance..."


posted by Bekah at 9:00 PM :: |

 
This Weekend's Top 5

5. Hooray for the Underdogs: Wildcats win with brains and brawn! I love a good underdog story. And because I'm associated with a big Michigan fan, I know that when an underdog story involves upsetting the dreaded Ohio State buckeyes, victory is even sweeter. Congratulations to Northwestern, beating OSU for the first time since 1971 in one of the most exciting games I've seen this year.

4. Desperate Housewives: Sunday Night Lives Post X Files! I was intrigued by the previews, and was even more impressed with the premiere. Mystery! Scandal! Voyeurism! That lady from Sports Night! And some of the dialogue was pretty intelligent too. I'll definitely tune in next week.

3. Race for the Cure: Running is great, but what's up with Yoplait liquid yogurt in a bottle? Eew. The Race for the Cure is such a good event. This was the second time I've run it. Unfortunately, it was the first time I ran it in this godforsaken, festering city. The heat index was around 93 and the first mile and a half was in direct sunlight. Also, the road was absolutely packed. It turned out fine, but I was frustrated because as soon as I crossed the finish line I knew I could have gone faster. 5ks are hard for me because I'm used to running long and relatively slow, so I can't convince my body to speed up even when I know I don't have that far to go. It's like I'm programmed to save up energy, even when I'm not going to need it. Do any runners have some suggestions on forcing yourself to speed up when you need to?

2. The Loch Ness Monster and Polite Rejection Letters: One of them actually does exist! Friday I got the nicest rejection letter in the world. Seriously. The guy cordially and politely said that they'd had a very successful summer and were full for right now, but that they'd keep my info on file and would let me know if their needs change. He also said he wished he could give me better news because my credentials are very impressive and he would otherwise be very interested. (Emphasis added to illustrate the stark contrast with the evil rejection letter described below). So I did something crazy and wrote a thank-you note for the rejection letter. I don't care if that was the firm's stock letter. The point is that it didn't make me want to jump out of a window, and for this I am grateful.

1. Shaun of the Dead: Bloody Brilliant! This movie was even better than I expected. I loved Shaun and his dopey roommate and his girlfriend. There were some of the funniest moments and facial expressions in that movie. Not to mention the fact that, despite what Ebert and Roeper had to say on the matter, I thought the social commentary was pretty dead on. I mean, drunk people and cashiers often do seem like zombies. Oh, and when the zombies ate that guy's entrails while he was still alive and screaming, it was effing hilarious! Good stuff.


posted by Bekah at 10:49 AM :: |

 
Fan Mail

Yesterday I got a nice little letter from a prominent law firm informing me coldly and condescendingly that there is simply not a place for me in their Firm Family. One line hissed, "Your background and credentials appear impressive." I like that choice of words. It's like they're making a thinly veiled accusation that I somehow fabricated or misrepresented my background and credentials. Like I actually suck, but I sneakily concocted a resume that makes me appear moderately qualified on paper. Well, I can see right through their sleazy lawyer talk, and I'm not going to let it get me down. And to prove it, I'm going to apply to lots more law firms where I'm guaranteed more letters of this type, just to show how well I can take rejection. It will be a fun little demonstration of the toughness of the human psyche.

Sniff.


posted by Bekah at 1:57 PM :: |

 
Monosyllabic Assessments

1. Silver City: Bad
2. Jon Stewart: Stud
3. Time at which I'll likely purchase America (The Book): A Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction: Now
4. Loud cell phone talker in coffeehouse: Douche
5. Outline progress thus far: Slight
6. Run this morning: Blech
7. Saturday classes due to Ivan: Poop
8. Last night's bizarre, Salem-style witch hunt on The Apprentice: *%&@#?
9. Football tomorrow: Blue!
10. Confidence in getting a clerkship interview: None


posted by Bekah at 1:01 PM :: |

 
Festival Diary

I'm back from my Hurricane Vacation, and I'm definitely not excited about starting school again. Austin was great--J and I both loved the city and everything associated with it. We couldn't get over how clean and organized everything is there, and how well-run the festival was. We were so upset that we had to miss the last day of the festival to get back home (No Elvis Costello or Cake, sadness!), but we're already making plans to go back sometime soon. And next time we'll go at a time where a 8-9 hour drive won't take us 25 hours because of inept and ridiculous evacuation gridlock. I'm not going to go into the details of that drive, because I think J and I are permanently scarred. A little piece of our sanity and a large portion of our dignity were lost somewhere in that 9th hour when we'd only gone about 50 miles. So instead of dwelling on that disaster, I'm going to give a quick rundown of all the bands we saw/heard at the festival. Keep in mind that this list is only 2 days worth--if we had the means, we could have seen a lot more.

First, a quick note about the festival itself. The mechanics of it were very well thought out (shuttles to the park, easily accessible food area, maps of the grounds and stages), but the sheer volume of people (between 70 and 100,000 per day) made things a little bumpy sometimes. There were a lot of port-o-potties too, but J and I never had to use them. Not even once. We must have drunk 60 ounces of water each every day, and we still never had to pee. This is because it was 100 degrees and sunny and between the hours of 11:00am and 9pm everyone was covered with a film of sticky Texas sweat that trickled relentlessly down backs and shins and fingers. Men were drenched. Women were horrified that their cute little tank tops were getting soaked. The heat forced some of the most impressive beer guts I've ever seen to come out and enjoy the sunshine. J and I just rubbed coagulated sunscreen on ourselves every few hours and tried to find a little shade when we could.

And now, the music:

Tucker Livingston: Folksy stuff; we sat for a while before we got our bearings on Friday.
Louque: Interesting New Orleans musician mixing funk and blues and a little hip-hop. We liked it, but were on our way somewhere else.
The Killers: Now, I love The Killers. J does not love The Killers, but we went anyway. And as fun as I think their music is, I had to agree with J that the live show was just nothing special. The lead singer had the stage presence of a corpse (although I must give him props for not sacrificing fashion in the face of extreme heat: he kept his indie shirt/vest combo ON baby), and he churned out "Somebody Told Me" like a death rattle. But I still think the cd is awesome.
Electric Church: Some sort of crappy organ-infused dance/gospel/reggae spritual music that made me want to laugh and then cry. We left.
Bob Schneider: Eh, ok. It's hot--want to go get something to eat before Blind Boys?
Blind Boys of Alabama: Highlight of the day. These guys have been playing together since June 10, 1944 and they were amazing. Great gospel/blues, and if you don't think a cute little 80-year old blind man jumping around on stage and then being led through the crowd is a wonderful thing, you don't have a soul.
Neko Case: Nice voice. Where are the New Pornographers?
Sloan: J likes these guys. I think they sound like bad Classic Rock. We didn't stay long.
Broken Social Scene: Fun indie jam band--lots of energy. They put on a good show.
Ryan Adams: I'm sorry, I love Whiskeytown and some of his solo stuff, but this guy is an asshole. He was condescending and annoying and didn't take anything remotely seriously. He played "La Cienega Just Smiled" and messed it all up. I know it's his song and he can do what he wants, but that song is important to me and he ruined it by being obnoxious. Ass.
Franz Ferdinand: Heard like one song. I don't know what the fuss is about.
Mason Jennings: Heard a little on Saturday morning. Sounded good.
Slightly Stoopid: Not just a clever name.
Cat Power: Beautiful voice. Serves as a nice complement to snoring. Ah, I kid...she was good. Just a little...down...tempo...
Josh Rouse: Waiting for Old 97's so only heard from far away, but sounded good.
Old 97's: Best ever. Rhett Miller was like the anti-Ryan Adams. He was so appreciative of the fans and the festival and Austin and the music. He was so excited to be performing, and he put on a great show. Plus, he's dreamy.
The Gourds: Only heard a little, wasn't too excited about it. No "Gin and Juice" while we were there.
Modest Mouse: Good show. Lots of new stuff, which I actually liked. J thought there should have been a wider selection from their portfolio, but all in all it was a good time.
G-Love & Special Sauce: Heard that one song, the "she got sauce" song on the way to The Pixies. That's about all I needed.
Walter "Wolfman" Washington: Heard the end of the show. Sounded awesome.
Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown: Tie with Old 97's for favorite show of the day. Little 80 year old black man with long skinny fingers rockin' out on his guitar and fiddle. He was so adorable and great. Sang a lot about women treating him wrong. I wanted to hug him.
The Pixies: We saw THE PIXIES! We weren't very close to the stage, but we heard everything perfectly. Great show, great set, fun way to end the festival.
Wilco (At after-festival concert): This was almost a disaster for us. By the time The Pixies' show ended, we were already late to the concert and the shuttle line was over 2 hours long. So we speed-walked to one of the main streets praying for a miracle, and we somehow found what must have been the only cab in town that wasn't at the festival. Got to the show and only missed 5 minutes of Wilco. Great show. Lots of Summerteeth and lots of new stuff (still need that album). Two encores, and the second one included Mermaid Ave. songs, "Jesus Christ for President" and "California Stars." Hooray!

And now I'm waking up from this glorious dream to the harsh reality of 3L. Better to have loved and lost, I suppose. Gotta go to school.


posted by Bekah at 8:09 AM :: |

 
Emergency Evacuation to the City Limits!

J and I are fleeing Ivan. And by fleeing Ivan, I mean we are driving to Austin for Austin City Limits this weekend! Classes are cancelled for the rest of this week, so there's just no reason to stay even if the hurricane does miss us. Basically it's an excuse to make a fun trip, so we're packing up now and then getting on the road as soon as we can. Then there will only be The Pixies and Ryan Adams and Old 97's and The Killers and Modest Mouse and Cake and Wilco and Spoon and Neko Case and Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown and Elvis Costello and so very much more. If anyone knows Austin or will be in Austin or can give me any fun advice, please email! Ok, time to go West! So long, suckers!


posted by Bekah at 11:12 AM :: |

 
Ivan Schmivan?

Hurricanes are the great equalizer. People try to act all hard and claim they're not ever leaving, but then all the public schools close and that little voice in their head starts chiming in every so often with a "You really should make sure you have flashlights just in case..." or a "Having no water would definitely suck, right?" I mean, on the one hand, you don't want to stick it out and end up like that redneck on the Weather channel in rolled-up Huck Finn pants standing in the lake that is his front yard using a battered flamingo yard ornament to fish out the remnants of Aunt Mae's Thomas Kinkaid Spiritual Snow Globe collection. On the other hand, you don't want to look like an ass for stocking up on plywood and canned corn if the hurricane ends up going 300 miles east. It's a real issue of pride.

J and I were having our own little conversation this afternoon about people overreacting, just as we passed several gas stations full to the brim with cars and slightly frazzled people. We were quiet for a second and then both decided that, even though it was definitely ridiculous and clearly overly cautious, we should probably fill up just because you never really know, you know?

Ah, we are all such sheepish sheep at heart. Anyway, if and when my school buckles under the pressure of the city counsel, I'm going to make my way West, you know, the way of Horatio Alger and Davy Crockett...the Donner Party...various other barrages of imagery...


posted by Bekah at 7:48 PM :: |

 

More Weird Baby-Having Dreams

My friend Josh just sent me the following email:

Your recent post about the Emma Thompson baby reminded me of a recent dream [M] told me about that I thought you would derive amusement from. Her story went something like this: “Last night I dreamed that [my sister] had triplets, but after a few days the babies turned into puppies. The worst part of the dream was that I thought two of the puppies were really ugly.”

posted by Bekah at 1:41 PM :: |

 
Some Self-Indulgent Self-Pity (even though I realize things could be much worse, and that people who are being ravaged by hurricanes and various other atrocities will probably want to kill me for my unjustified whining, but I'm a law student and I'm allowed to have a little bit of exaggerated self pity because I am emotionally abused by my professors and I don't have a job and the first and only letter I've gotten acknowledging receipt of my clerkship application was addressed "Dear Mr. Nowack")

This weekend has been interesting. Not interesting like the safe word you would use to describe a remotely compelling article you read in the paper or US Weekly. That kind of blandly interesting weekend would have been welcomed with open arms. No, this weekend has been interesting like the word you would use as a kindergarten teacher to describe little Tommy's crude rendition of the decapitated bodies of all of his classmates buried under his front porch. Oh, how interesting Tommy. Do you happen know your Mommy or Daddy's office number?

It started out on Friday morning with a really exciting heat rash that made a grand appearance on my hands and arms and caused those body parts to feel itchy and tingly and awful until a very nice and pretty young doctor gave me a shot of cortisone in my "hip" (why do doctors always say "hip" when they're giving you a shot in the ass?) and some lovely and not too smelly prescription cream. J had a lot of fun taking advantage of my insecurity in that leprous state. I had this rash that I thought was totally disgusting, and the shot that was supposed to make me better initially made me jittery and paranoid and even more worried about looking like a freak. To make matters worse, I haven't been able to run for three days because of the possibility of aggravating the rash, so I am feeling very unfulfilled and lazy, not to mention the fact that my Jewish grandmother of a conscience is very very disappointed in me.

Then on Saturday we had some people over to watch football and grill. Things started out ok until the fridge stopped being cold. We made a frantic trip to the gas station to get bags of ice for the bath tub so we could save our precious Miller Lite and Icehouse, and upon completion of that task the fridge started working again. Then, just for kicks, the AC gave out. People noticed that it was "getting a little warm" in the house just as Michigan started getting completely killed by Notre Dame. By the third quarter, emotions were high and the temperature in the apartment was a cozy 95 degrees. We were sweaty and pissed off: we had an unbelievably pathetic Michigan loss and about 5,000 pounds of extra meat that no one felt like eating. And my hands were itching again. So we had to spend the night at our friends' apartment. On our way back home this morning to get books for today's coffeehouse expedition, I saw a homeless man pushing a shopping cart. And then I felt even shittier for thinking that being put out of my apartment for 2 days was the end of the world.

It's funny, but I think I'm writing so vehemently about all of this mostly because I've been neglecting my blog lately. When I actually think about everything rationally, I know that I'm not even that annoyed or upset. I'm just too tired and resigned to care about heat rashes and broken air conditioners that much. I really just want to go for a run, so hopefully I'll be able to do that this afternoon. And then take a nice cold shower.


posted by Bekah at 11:56 AM :: |

 
The Telepathic Method

Law professors all have different teaching styles, and I think I've been exposed to most of them. I've had professors who like to just lecture, and then sometimes call on a few eager students who like to throw their two cents in. I've had professors who run down the class list, call on students in alphabetical order, ask one terse question, answer it themselves, and move on. And I've had professors who employ that thing we like to call the Socratic Method, which basically involves speaking only in questions and trying to squeeze answers out of students like dirty water from a mop. I promise, it's even more fun than it sounds. But I've never had a professor quite like the one I have now, who has developed his own version of the Socratic Method which involves the expectation of telepathy.

This is what happens. The Professor asks a question--a broad question, with many possible interpretations--and about 14 students raise their hand to answer. Then, one by one, he picks off their answers with "Weeell, not exactly," or "hmm, I suppose that's one way to look at it...anyone else?" This goes on for a painfully long time--like a movie where there are like 5 plausible ways to end it, but it keeps going and going until you forget what the plot was to begin with. And the end of this period of questioning is always the same: no one gives him a satisfactory answer, and he finally lets everyone know what he's driving at...but only after making a few people feel like asses along the way.

You may recognize this method as a variation on "hiding the ball"--a teaching tool that law professors use as part of the Socratic Method to make the students come up with the answer on their own. Except he doesn't "hide the ball," he buries the ball 6 feet under and then lets students set off land mines by trying to dig for it. I wanted to raise my hand and ask, "What color am I thinking of right now?" Or better yet, "There are 37 yellow monkeys dancing in my head--what song are they dancing to?" I mean, come on! If you are a law professor, the students already know that you are a brilliant person. You don't appear more brilliant when you concoct elaborate questions with answers so specific and nuanced that only your brain could come up with them. The only good part about it is that some poor annoying bastards in the class keep stepping up to bat like 6 or 7 times a class, only to be shot down each time. Maybe I'm a sick person, but sometimes that makes me feel good.


posted by Bekah at 8:46 AM :: |

 
Come Together

You know that part of the movie where the main character is walking around and suddenly there is only silence and everything around him starts moving very slowly and there's just this look of blankness and helplessness on his face as the world soundlessly goes on around him? I've been feeling like that a lot lately. In the halls, I kind of float up above myself and watch as I bump into a roaming pack of 1Ls or have a conversation with a professor about letters of recommendation, nodding and smiling away. I tried to go out a few times this weekend, but I consistently ended up feeling too detached to function in a social setting.

That person who is in her last year of law school and who is going to classes and revising a Comment that she wrote and who is applying for clerkships and everything--that person is me. And yet, I can't seem to actually convince myself that I am her and she is me and we are all together, etc. It's like I'm applying for fake jobs and going to fake classes, and soon I'm going to wake up and be 11 again, eating peanut butter crackers and watching a horrendously edited version of The Breakfast Club on TBS not understanding a goddamn thing anyone is saying and waiting for my friend to come over and catch crawfish in the creek behind my house. And when I tell myself that those thoughts are ridiculous, and that real life has to start sometime and I can't hide behind my novels or philosophy books or law books forever, I get angry and then I get sad. The world is a really fucking hard place to live in! I just want to be able to hide from it some more.


posted by Bekah at 8:20 PM :: |

 
"I had a dream that I had a baby. Except I wasn't me, I was Emma Thompson." -Me, halfway between a nap and awakeness


posted by Bekah at 4:43 PM :: |

 
A Week of Firsts:

1. First week of living with someone who is not a girl and is more than a friend. Some people make shorthand reference to this scenario as "in sin." I like to think of it as a personal victory over George Bush and his ilk, as well as a condemnation of various antiquated social mores. Also, it's fun.
2. First week of actually feeling like a real person in my apartment. There's central air! There's fresh mozzarella and zucchini in the fridge! It's scary dude.
3. First week of having someone actually say to me, "Hot enough for you?" as a greeting on the street. Who does that? Silence is so much more preferable. Especially when your skin is dripping and your face is on fire. I said no, just to be an ass.
4. First week of voluntarily participating in a seminar course that involves public speaking. I'm feeling particularly masochistic this week, I guess.
5. First week of consistently speaking in Napoleon Dynomitish. It's a new language, and it's taking over the world. Dang! Quit being a freakin' idiot!


posted by Bekah at 10:17 PM :: |

 
The Aesthetic and Moral Virtues of New School Supplies: A Treatise

Countless volumes in this blog have been devoted to espousing the glories of new school supplies--their smell, their touch, their physical perfection. Yet none of my writing has truly encapsulated the essence of the Platonic goodness of a new notebook, or the childish innocence of a new pen. It is this goal that I will now attempt to achieve.

Imagine that you are a seasoned, somewhat jaded law student. (If you are anything like me, this will be a relatively simple exercise). You've reached the end of the year, and your notebooks are torn and tattered. Your pens are out of ink, chewed up, or lost altogether, floating in that mysterious chasm in the universe where all of the car keys and left socks go to relax on the beach and tell old war stories. You are bruised, battered, and fed up. You hate your life and what it has become. You want nothing to do with school ever again.

But then, a new semester begins, and suddenly something in your brain wipes the slate clean. Everything is new again. You've forgotten some of the pain of exams, and you've become intrigued by the prospect of one or two interesting classes or a new professor. You begin to organize your schedule and plan your semester. And then, the school supplies begin their siren song...

A new notebook represents all that is good and virtuous about the academic experience. There is so much potential stored up in those pages. So much promise in every line! Aristotle thought that everything has a potential that can and should be actualized. A new notebook is pure, tangible potential. So many ideas and and theories can fit between the covers, bringing the innocent and pure notebook to life! The empty pages scream, "Feed me, for I am hungry for knowledge! Sully my pristine pages with your furious scribbling so that I may actualize myself!" A new pen is virtuous as well, as it is the implement for actualizing the new notebook's limitless potential. It's like an Olympic athlete who is ready to win the gold, but has to finish the race to make that potential a reality. The new notebook sits at that precarious and dramatic position--it knows what it can do, but only has to do it! Fantastic!

I wasn't going to do this, but I've decided that it's only fair. Now, gentle reader, I am going to fill you in on my current school supply situation. Please, contain your excitement! I initially thought I should keep my methods top secret, lest someone steal my brilliant plans and piggyback their way to school supply perfection. But I've decided that something this wonderful should be shared with the world. So here it is. I have four classes, and I have decided to use two binders, one for my Tuesday/Thursday classes, and one for my Monday/Wednesday classes. Each binder contains two three-hole-punched legal pads. These legal pads, however, have a special feature: the margin line is farther to the right than usual. This way, I can take notes on the right side, and use the left side to make any changes or additions I might need later. I can remove the legal pads from the binder while I'm taking notes, and I can remove the pages from the legal pads to organize my notes sequentially with any class handouts.

I realize that if you are a law student or any kind of student you probably want to kill me right now. Or at least throw notebooks at my head. But I will not apologize for my feelings. School supplies are the only things that keep me going at this time of year, and my love for them will never die. If you truly embrace the new notebook, I am sure that you too will find meaning in your life. Just give in to it. It will heal your soul.


posted by Bekah at 9:49 AM :: |

 
The Beginning of the End

School is about to start again, and I'm having all of the usual feelings. Excitement. Anticipation. A slight, tugging dread in the pit of my stomach. Even though it's extremely gratifying to know that soon I will be getting new notebooks and planners and pens and highlighters, I've been in school long enough to understand that the giddiness accompanying the beginning of the law school semester gets stomped out within a few weeks. That's not to say that this year won't be different in a lot of important ways. I'm taking some good classes and my schedule is glorious and free of Friday classes. Third year, man! I'm a senior! Let's trash some freshmen and spike the punch at the prom! Except at the end of this senior year, I have to worry about a lot more than just having a prom date. Damn. Can't I just go back to college?

The next few days are going to be busy. First of all, I'm moving. It was an unexpected development that came about when my landlord graciously told me that she and her family were moving to Santa Fe (seriously), and that I would need to be out of the apartment, the sooner the better. So that was fun. I also need to start sending out some job applications. I'm going to start with clerkships and see where that leads me. And then I need to get my books and assignments and finalize my schedule. So I'll be busy. But I'll also be getting a lot of good material for this little blog, which has been gathering some dust lately. It will happen. The Marathon will rise again.


posted by Bekah at 9:29 AM :: |

 
Guilty Conscience

Sometimes I really think I have a Jewish grandmother for a conscience. You know that little angel or devil who's supposed to appear on your shoulder to influence you to do good or evil? I don't get those. I get a Jewish grandmother who manipulates and nags until she gets her way. (I also have a real Bubby who is wonderful and doesn't fit the stereotype at all; unfortunately, she's not the one constantly screaming and kvetching inside my brain). My alarm went off at 6:15 this morning for my run, at which time I promptly turned it off and reset it for 7:45. Happy at the prospect of continuing my dream, I lay back down and curled up under the sheets. This lasted about 30 seconds, until I heard my little Jewish grandmother saying "Bekalah. You know you will feel guilty all day if you go back to sleep. How could you do this to us? You want you should get a few measly minutes of sleep? And for what? To become a liar and a hypocrite? Your body is a temple, Bekalah. Now get up and run or there will be no matzo ball soup for you!" How can you argue with that, I ask you? You can't. So I got my ass up and ran 7 miles. She's a stern taskmaster, but that lady gets results!

To be fair, my Jewish grandmother of a conscience only gets me out of bed and out the door. Fulfillment of the actual run depends on a variety of factors, including heat, my shins, my toenail, nausea, the amount of poop stink in the air, and my general level of mental and physical comfort on any given day. But as I realized today, it also depends on who I'm with and where I am. I'm definitely a loop runner, as opposed to a there-and-back runner. On there and back runs, I usually get bored, punk out, and turn around early. I also run much better and easier if I'm running with someone. I ran into my friend Michelle today as I was finishing my fourth mile, and seeing her gave me the energy to do the next three with her. I wasn't tired at all, and the conversation kept me from getting bored. If I'd done that run by myself, I would have been miserable. Or I wouldn't have done it at all. Yay for running friends and imaginary Bubbies!

posted by Bekah at 10:17 AM :: |

 
Unmentionables

In order to better equip myself for all the running I'm doing, I went to Target to get some tank tops and sports bras, etc. (A frightening aside: my list actually included "hair bands" and "wifebeaters," which may be considered mutually exclusive in some respects, and shouldn't really be things one voluntarily attempts to procure). J was with me, and as we entered the underwear section I could see him start to freak out. I was looking at some bras and made him hold my basket. A few seconds later I heard, "Um...Bekah...please don't make me hold these unmentionables...please..." Soon the sheepishness ended, though, giving way to J throwing granny panties at my head and being generally obnoxious. Nice illustration of the progression of male coping mechanisms for public encounters with lingerie. Boys are silly.

Running Log

So after a few weeks of running, I'm feeling just as dedicated as ever. My mileage will never be up to 40 miles a week again, but I'm shooting to reach 30-35. I even got one of those cheap arm band radios, which I know makes me look like a douchebag, but I don't care. I've had bad experiences with tripping and throwing walkmen into bushes from whence they never return. The only thing holding me back now is a little bit of a toenail issue. (Caution: the following account may be considered "disgusting" or "vomit-inducing" by the average person; continue at the risk of being grossed out). One of my toenails is really loose, and I have a recurring blister directly underneath it. Now, I know that's gross, but at the same time I think it's kind of cool. It's not black or anything yet, and it makes my toe feel funny. I'll keep you updated on my general foot health as more events unfold.

My main running gripe (aside from the heat which is just unbearable, did I mention that?), is that I haven't found a good, big loop to run around here. I often end up running in the park, which has a loop that's just under 2 miles and increases to 3 if you run the extension by the river. It's a nice run, but I don't like having to do the same thing twice. Also, this park is right next to a zoo, so there's a good half mile where all you smell is rotting animal poop (a stench which, hovering oppressively in the humid air, is enough to make you lose your breakfast). The other day I ran past the animal poop as fast as I could, only to notice another odor of the poop variety as soon as I got to the main area of the park. See, lots of mommies and daddies like to take babies to the park. And while there's nothing I find more adorable than a cute daddy running with a little baby in a stroller, I do wish these mommies and daddies would change junior's diapers every once in a while, because goddamn, that dirty diaper stink is almost more pungent and primal than giraffe dung. Add the baby poo smell to the stinky dog crap that gets tracked all over the road, and you've got a real symphony of feces on your hands. So, who wants to go for a run this afternoon?


posted by Bekah at 9:29 AM :: |

 
Adventures in Santa Barbara!

I visited my college girlfriends in Santa Barbara last week, and despite the latent skepticism about California I’ve irrationally harbored all my life, I determined that it’s actually not objectionable to me in any significant way. Quite the contrary: it is almost utopian.  There are craggy mountains and cliff-lined beaches.  There is a cool breeze instead of stagnant, hot, moist, dripping, oven-air. The days are warm and sunny, but the mornings and evenings are jacket weather (in July!).  The highways are scenic.  The food is delicious (and calorie free!).  The people are affluent.  Ah yes, the people…there’s the rub.  The people I personally spent time with—my friends and my friend’s family—were lovely and wonderful.  The people who made up the dappled contours of the greater Santa Barbara area, however, were a bit more questionable.  Oh, the Botox and the collagen and the Von Deutch tanks…the ill-fitting capris and the brittle bleached hair…the hairy chests and the bling bling…it was all pretty horrifying.  The people-scenery wasn’t nearly as clean and kempt as I expected.  I thought everyone in California was beautiful and perfect and classily accessorized.  Good to know that even though that may be what they’re going for, those Californians still have their share of dumpy asses and mall hair.  But nobody’s perfect.

Running Routine Resurrected!

You know those people who dwell on their glory days? Like the uncle in Napoleon Dynamite (such a good movie by the way; more on that later) who lives in his 1982 football prime?  Well, I think it could be said that I am a little bit obnoxious about my running glory days during my senior year of college. That perfect year when I ran 40-45 miles a week, rain or shine, sickness or health, deadline or no deadline.  That perfect year that came to an abrupt halt when law school began and violently ripped my life away from me.  I know my friends still get a little annoyed when I mention the glory days.  I talk about “that year when I used to run everyday” or “the time when I would do a 12 mile run every weekend” or whatever.  I’m sure they just think, “Uh, ok Bekah, you ran a lot before. Who cares?” 

Well, in acknowledgement of how pathetic my attempts to live in the past have been, I’ve decided to make the past the present. Or something. Meaning that I’m going to run NOW in real life, not in 2002 in my mind.  The whole law school thing isn’t really an obstacle now because it doesn’t scare me anymore.  The whole stifling heat and humidity thing is an obstacle, but I’m going to work through it.  Besides, by the time the cool weather rolls around (um, December? Maybe?) I’ll be so used to the heat that my winter runs will be a breeze.  So there you have it.  No more talking about the glory days for me.  I’m getting my glory now! But sorry, there won’t be any thrilling rendition of “Eye of the Tiger.” Just lots of running.  So, yeah, exciting stuff for you.

More Still to Come! 
 

posted by Bekah at 12:57 PM :: |

 
Curb Your Enthusiasm

Me: I was thinking that tonight after work I could go to the grocery and then I could cook dinner for us.
J: [no response]
Me: Or I could just poop in a hat and give it to you. Whatever you want.

Coming Soon(ish):
Adventures in Santa Barbara!
Running Routine Resurrected!
Novel Ideas!
Job Search Revelations!
Music/Movie Reviews!
Overuse of Exclamation Points vs. Overuse of Quotation Marks on the "Supreme Irritation and Annoyance Scale"!
More!


posted by Bekah at 11:04 AM :: |

 
Putting Greens and White Trash

After a heated, hyperbolic argument that resulted in our being pretty pissed at each other for a while (am I allowed to write that? I guess I'll find out...), J and I reconciled last night by heading to the suburbs for a few friendly rounds of Putt-Putt. I hadn't played for a long time, and it showed. My sister and I used to play all the time in the summers. At the conclusion of an emotional 18-holes, we'd climb back up to the mountain house, one of us gleefully holding the score card, the other silent, red-faced and frustrated, both of us ready for our quest for the best Jelly Belly combination recipe to recommence. In a few days, we'd forget any ill-feelings caused by the last game and go back for more.

Putt-Putt is actually a pretty good judge of character. There are people who throw the club if the game isn't going their way. There are those who curse and stomp. There are those who are a little too proud of their putting skills. And there are those, like me, who remain optimistic and egomaniacal in the face of serious suckage ("This is just the warm-up round--I'm going to demolish you next time"). I did not do very well. Though I did get a hole in one once. J kept telling me that I was "lipping out" so much because I was hitting the ball too hard. My aim was good; I just couldn't tone the swing down enough to succeed on such a flattened out putting green. I'm just too intense a person for such a muted, low-key game. Or I guess it's possible that J may possibly be slightly better than I am, at least in the conventional sense.

The best part of Putt-Putt wasn't actually playing. The best part was, as is so often the case, the people-watching. A group of teenagers in front of us were so bored of the game it was ludicrous that they were even there. The girl, carrying a huge plastic purse the whole time, held the putter like it was a dead animal. Her swing was of the obnoxiously apathetic one-handed variety; she drug and prodded the ball around the green about twelve or thirteen times before each hard-won victory. When the ball finally went in the hole, she would sigh, pick it up, and drag her feet to the nearest bench to count the minutes until she had to putt again. The guys she was with were equally moronic, but their voices weren't quite as irritating so they didn't offend me so much.

The best sight was a little boy having a temper tantrum. The kid's face was flushed, and his hair was stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He was doing that stressed-out kid hyperventilation number--he'd worked himself up so much that he had to take breaths in forced, painful gulps. The kid was sitting on the ground, freaking out about his dad and sister "cheating." Then, without warning, he screamed at his dad, "You're meaner than the DEVIL!" It was awesome. I feel bad though, because I don't think his parents read to him enough, and as a result he's probably going to have to start taking a cocktail of ritalin and horse sedatives to fix his inappropriate behavior quickly and efficiently.

So yeah, Putt-Putt was fun. I've also been reading the most recent McSweeney's Quarterly Concern, the comics edition, which is simply wonderful. I recommend purchasing a copy, because it is only $24 and I've never seen a more meticulously crafted and beautifully organized book. I've also been doing some watercolors and watching The Sopranos and The Office. And I've been going to work and visiting with old friends who were in town for the weekend. If anyone has suggestions for other activities to occupy my summer, I'm all ears. And don't say writing more on the blog, because it's better not to force these things, and I'm just going a little slow for a few months to regain my blogging energy. I promise, once I'm rested, things will go back to normal.

posted by Bekah at 2:49 PM :: |

 
Movin' On Up...and Up...and Up...

Yesterday we moved J into his incredible new apartment. Open and airy living space, great lighting and windows, gorgeous and high latticed ceilings, huge island in the kitchen, beautiful bathroom, separate laundry room, etc. It's one of four apartments in an old mansion with a wrought iron gate in front and a pool in the back and quaint patios and decks on every floor. At night it kind of looks like a haunted house, but in a good way. The landlord is retired and is spending all of his time restoring and renovating the house and grounds. So cool.

When we went to look at the apartment for the first time, I was absolutely floored at the perfect condition everything was in and how new all of the appliances and fixtures were. Whenever the landlord would turn around to show something else, I would grab J's arm and stare at him with looks of utter disbelief at what we were seeing. J had to fill out an application, and when it was accepted, I'm ashamed to say that I actually got a little mad at J for being so lucky. I was happy for him, but I was jealous too. I did a lot of pouting. When we came back to visit again, I wandered around the apartment in a daze, caressing the countertops and staring up at the ceiling as if hearing a heavenly choir.

Unfortunately, the new apartment has one drawback that we didn't really think too much about until yesterday. This beautiful, incredible, spacious apartment is at the very tip top of the mansion. In order to get to it, one has to climb four flights of stairs. Four. Flights. Of stairs. The first time we visited, I said things like, "Oh, look how high up we are! It's so beautiful up here!" and "You're so secluded--you'll never have to worry about flooding or street noise!" After moving yesterday, it's a miracle that I even tolerate the apartment at all.

J doesn't have that much stuff. And still, moving was a serious bitch. It was about 1200 degrees, it was blindingly sunny, and climbing those stairs felt a little bit like ascending a volcano while holding loads and loads of crap. Our faces were like shiny, boiled tomatoes. Our limbs were wobbly and glazed with sweat. We were looking good. It was not pleasant.

But now that everything is moved in, the bad feelings are kind of fading and the good ones are starting to creep back. Like when you're a camp counselor and you go through all the bureaucratic stuff and all of the crying children and adolescent angst, and by the end of the summer you're just done with it all, but then over the weeks and months that follow, you start to forget all of the negative things about camp and only remember your friends and that one heart to heart you had with a troubled camper on the swingset when you really think you got through to her and helped improve her life and you're suddenly ready to go back. That kind of thing. J has to unpack still, but the worst is over now. The beauty of the apartment is starting to shine through again. All of the trouble we went to was worth it. Especially because of the free wireless internet that we get to borrow from the people downstairs. Sweet.

Note: I was going to put "borrow" in quotes, but then I figured the point would be made without them. I'm a little sensitive about quotes now; I wouldn't want to overuse them.

posted by Bekah at 9:01 AM :: |

 
What the "hell" is "up" with "misuse" of "quotation marks"?

When did it become ok to put quotes around anything and everything for no apparent reason? In elementary school, I learned that we generally use quotation marks when recording a statement by another. This allows a writer to set off someone else's words from the rest of her piece of writing. Like if I wanted to report to everyone what Owen Wilson said when we met, I would organize it something like this: Sighing wistfully, Owen murmured, "I can't believe I've found the woman of my dreams already--right here in the poetry section of the neighborhood bookstore. Luke is going to be so jealous." As you can see, I used the quotes in that situation because that's what Owen actually said. There is also the equally acceptable ironic use of quotation marks. That would be something like: Freshman girls at this school wear clothes that don't fit them and drink a lot of "happy juice" on Thursday nights. See, "happy juice" is in quotes, because Freshman girls don't actually drink happy juice; they actually drink lots and lots of booze and then go do "laundry" with their "friends" at the frat house. Thus, the ironic use of quotes usually comes in handy when you're describing something metaphorically or with some other associational method.

The problem is that this ironic use of quotes is being severely abused. I think it's because people don't understand what irony actually is. When you have a takeout menu that says sandwiches "to go," you are misusing quotation marks. Quotation marks are not meant to place emphasis. That is what italics are for. I think part of the reason that misuse of quotation marks has reached epidemic proportions is the growing prevalence of air quotes. People just throw air quotes around without any thought. It's quote overload. Someone came to a party last year and said he brought three kinds of ice cream: vanilla, coffee, and "chocolate" (in air quotes). But you see my friends, the ice cream was in fact chocolate! Stop with the air quotes! They're "pissing" me the "hell" "off"!

I'm hoping that most establishments that use quotes on the menu are simply mistaken as to these grammatical fundamentals. Otherwise going to a Chinese restaurant that serves "mixed vegetables" will be much more disturbing than I'm prepared to deal with.

posted by Bekah at 1:56 PM :: |

 
Control Freak

Working in a small firm this summer (and by small I mean 4 lawyers, not 57; this is not New York) has taught me a few things about myself, and all of them boil down to one basic conclusion: I hate not being in control. In this post, I'm going to try to explain the feelings I've been having at work, but I should warn you now that the words may not come out right and I may come off slightly more obsessive/psychotic than I actually am. So bear with me.

It started out with little things. I don't like not having my very own desk, organized the way I like it, with my own clients and my own case files color-coded and numbered in my own way. I don't like having to use a system I'm not comfortable with or having to roam around the office like a nomad, using a hole-puncher here, a phone there, and a computer in the back. I don't like doing piecemeal work either: drafting a motion for one client here, making a trip to court for another client there. None of it lets me follow something through to its conclusion. I don't feel invested in any of it. I understand exactly what Karl Marx meant when he described people as feeling alienated because of their assembly-line jobs. The result of their work has nothing to do with them, and it makes them sad and distanced from their lives. It's the opposite of the farmer who gets to sit down to dinner and enjoy the fruits of his own labor.

But my biggest work gripe is something much simpler. In school, I've always been used to working at my own pace on my own time. I have always hated study groups of any kind. I never wanted to do peer reviews of essays; I simply didn't care what the other students thought of my work. The only time I liked working with others was in math class, because I could just ride on my friend J.D.'s coattails and pretend I knew what was going on. Now, when I need to study for exams, I make my own schedule and sit by myself, away from any scrutiny by the professor or other students, and I figure things out on my own. In the law firm, I have to figure things out right before the lawyers' eyes, and that's just not natural for me. I hate learning under pressure. I get intimidated and nervous, and common sense goes right out the window. And that lack of common sense carries over into other daily tasks at work. Once, a woman came by to pick up a huge ink cartridge for the copy machine, and I retrieved one of the firms return-address stamps for her instead. What? It looked cartridge-like to me...

So in analyzing all of these feelings over the past few weeks, I've finally decided that this basically means that I don't like to share. When I think about possibly practicing law, the only thing that appeals to me is a situation where I'm in constant control. Where I'm in charge of my very own clients, and I make all the organizational and legal decisions for myself. The scary part is, these conclusions are not based on any feeling of analytical or administrative prowess on my part. I think I could benefit from collaborative efforts. So maybe I just need to be in a situation where I feel completely invested in what I'm doing, and who I'm doing it with. Anyway, it's stuff to ponder. Is anyone else who's working in a firm for the first time experiencing any of this?

posted by Bekah at 4:49 PM :: |

 
The Envelope, Please

Ok, this was an extremely tough decision, and I have to say that I tossed and turned, pondered and cogitated, mused and meditated, for close to seven whole minutes to finally make my selection. No, seriously, I thought hard about this, and I'm pleased with my choice. To all who entered the contest: thank you very much for your suggestions, most of them didn't suck. Oh, I kid, I kid!

And so, without further ado, I present to you the winner of the BIG FANCY EXCITING CONTEST. And the winner is...Steve, for his suggestion of "All Medicated Geniuses" by Pretty Girls Make Graves. Contrary to various indie-overload warnings, I think the choice adds a needed female voice to the mix, and, even more important, it fits very nicely in the spot suggested (between New Pornographers and Jayhawks). So CONGRATULATIONS Steve! Gimme your address and you'll get a copy...eventually.

More posts to come, I promise.

posted by Bekah at 4:47 PM :: |

 
Non-Celebrity Playlist

Alright, I've finally compiled a new mix that I'm pleased with. Yes, it is predictable in some ways, and no, it is not by any means completely representative of my musical tastes. It is not a "best of" or a comprehensive list of favorites. But it's what sounds perfect to me at this particular moment, and that's good enough for me. Hope you enjoy. Be gentle.

The Walkmen: Wake Up
The Postal Service: The District Sleeps Alone Tonight
Guided by Voices: Drinker’s Peace
The Shins: Saint Simon
Built to Spill: The Weather
Jackson Browne: The Pretender
The New Pornographers: Ballad of a Comeback Kid
The Jayhawks: All the Right Reasons
REO Speedwagon: Keep on Loving You
Elliott: Calvary Song
The Pixies: Here Comes Your Man
The Stills: Lola Stars and Stripes
Wilco: Kamera
Mae: Embers and Envelopes
David Bowie: Rebel, Rebel
The Wrens: Hopeless
Belle & Sebastian: Stay Loose (It’s a record we’ve been listening to and enjoying, Barry.)
Beulah: Wipe Those Prints and Run
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: We Came Along This Road

You'll notice that there are only 19 songs. Most cds can hold 20 or 21. This leads me to make the following proposition: I am, today, starting right now, going to hold a BIG FANCY EXCITING CONTEST open to all readers of the Marathon, new and old. Here's the deal. I am opening the phone lines (and by phone lines, I mean my yahoo email box or comments function) to all suggestions for the last song to be added to my mix. You must tell me the following pieces of information: 1) The song's title, 2) The artist, 3) The album/albums on which it appears, 4) Where on my mix it should be placed (Note: do not say first, second, or last; you will lose. Those places were very meticulously filled by me, and it would hurt my feelings), and 5) Any other information that may be pertinent/entertaining. The winner of the BIG FANCY EXCITING CONTEST will receive (drumroll please) a brand new copy of this very mix, mailed to them by me. When I told J my idea, he said, "What if they don't want a copy of your cd?" The answer to that, my friends is this: If you don't want a copy of my cd, don't enter my stupid contest!

Good luck and godspeed. And if any little comedian suggests Hey-Yah, I will not be amused.

posted by Bekah at 3:15 PM :: |

 
Game Two Blues

Me: I hate Kobe Bryant. Even if he is great and wonderful and everything. Big deal. No one should be playing that well if he's on trial for rape. He's pure evil.
Dad: Don't playuh hate.
Me: Ha!

posted by Bekah at 10:59 AM :: |

 
The Day The Music Died

Today is a black day. Nothing will ever be the same for me again.

My Dad, after kindly informing me that I was "starting to piss him off" by not blogging enough lately, told me that I should check out the iTunes celebrity playlists and comment on them. I thought, "Hmm, those could be fun to look at. I'll give it a shot." Instead, looking at those playlists was the worst thing I could have done. (Or maybe the best, in that right now I'm about to spew forth a serious rant for your reading pleasure/pain).

Celebrities in all of their various incarnations are like gods, whether we want to admit it or not. They are either seemingly flawless, or glorious and fascinating because of their flaws. For me, musicians that I like can very rarely do wrong. Yes, there are some albums I like more than others, but if I like an artist, I'm invested in him and generally approve of all of his work on some level. (This infuriates my sister, among others, but I can't change who I am: an unconditional lover). In addition to this general acceptance of all of my musicians' original works or attempts at greatness, I used to have a sort of naive appreciation of their respective musical tastes. I had this vision of Michael Stipe sitting around listening to Neutral Milk Hotel, or Weezer bopping around to the Wrens. Because I loved them, I just knew that they loved the music I loved.

I am now painfully aware of how mistaken I was. The playlists weren't just disappointing or bland or predictable; they were actually depressing. I'm trying to pinpoint my exact emotional response, and the best I can come up with is that I feel equally horrified and betrayed. My horror comes from artists who I didn't really care about anyway, and whose musical taste doesn't actually surprise me, but annoys me anyway. For example, Avril Lavigne puts "Rape Me" by Nirvana out there (such a rebel), but tops it off with Hey-Ya and Wonderwall. Chunks...rising...

Here are a few examples of my betrayal:

1. Susanne Vega. She has a John Mayer song first on this list. Dear god, that is so depressing to me. God. I can never listen to Solitude Standing in the same way again.

2. Michael Stipe. Um, I don't really know what to say here. I know he's friends with Cameron Diaz, so that might excuse the Justin Timberlake song (and I can excuse that anyway; I've been known to throw a little Justin into my mixes from time to time). But to choose "Beautiful Day" if you really have to pick a U2 song? And "Thank U" by Alanis? If you ask me, no song that Michael Stipe chooses should have teenagers' internet abbreviations in the title. (Although didn't Sinead O'Connor's "Nothing Compares 2 U" have the same thing? Then I can let that part slide, I guess...that's a good song). Michael's also got DMX "Who We Be" which is just blatantly trying too hard, and t.A.T.u's "All The Things She Said" which is just inexplicable...and Mary J. Blige...I just don't know.

3. Liz Phair and John Cusack (who have a list together, how nausiatingly pretentious--Liz opines in her "notes" on the list about she and John sitting around shooting the shit). To be fair, Liz Phair's betrayal occurred long before this (read: the "Extraordinary" load of crap that was her latest album. Hey! I guess that's an example of a time when I actually did hate an album by an artist I used to love. Even I can't deal with selling out when it's done in such a terribly predictable and embarrassing way...) Anyway, Liz and John's collaborative mix is just unimpressive. It's 18 songs long, and filled with doubles (two songs by the same artist in a row). Basically, John is reliving the High Fidelity soundtrack with a few unremarkable changes. What, you can't think of 18 separate artists who might actually allow you to achieve the goal of a MIX tape, in that you are supposed to have some sort of variety? Geez.

So, that's that. I can't bring myself to write any more, or to look at any more celebrity playlists. Stay tuned either today or tomorrow for a mix from ME filled with music that I think I would like. I've been wanting to make a new mix for a long time, and now is the perfect opportunity. I'll get on that...

Note: If anyone after reading this post just wants to say, "Screw you, Bekah, let people like what they like and stop trying to be an irritating music snob when you really don't know anything about anything, not to mention the fact that you couldn't even play 'Free Fallin' on the guitar to save your life you miserable talentless wretch" that's fine. You're probably right. But I can't help the way I feel.

Small Update: The playlist by Ryan Miller of Guster is actually really good...for the most part. It's also like 40 songs long. Let's keep things realistic people...


posted by Bekah at 11:07 AM :: |