"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: firstname.lastname@example.org
February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 September 2005
Sunday, August 29, 2004
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.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
"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
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
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!
Friday, August 20, 2004
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.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
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.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
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!