"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

 
Down But Not Out

Looking objectively at the low points in your life can really help you begin to understand your place and purpose in the world. Like a drunken crack whore who wakes up one morning and says, "I'm sleeping in a gutter and my boyfriend is a strung out drummer in an 80's cover band. This is not what I want anymore. I'm going to clean myself up, buy myself some Lee press-on-nails, and start over. Perhaps I'll go to law school." Well, I'm in Starbucks now, doing research on Westlaw, and stifling tears in public because my parents won't let me get a puppy. Am I four years old? No. Is this a sad state of affairs? Yes, for several reasons. But the lesson to be learned is this: If forcing back silent tears in Starbucks due to the lack of puppies in my life is as bad as it gets for me, I'll count myself lucky.

Oh, speaking of drugs, I was talking to some of my friends about my aunt's experience on jury duty. Despite the fact that she's a lawyer, and despite the fact that she raised her hand when they asked whether anyone thought drugs should be legalized, my aunt ended up having to sit on a criminal jury in a crack possession case. I was trying to tell my friends that they ended up finding the woman guilty of attempted possession, but instead I said "attempted crack." Everyone burst into laughter, imagining the woman there with her crack pipe, trying her hardest to light it up. "Damn you crack pipe! Light! Light! Oh crap...the cops!" "Ma'am, you're being charged with attempted crack. The penalties are the same as for actual crack. It's not our fault that you're too incompetent to smoke it correctly. Moron."

Happy Note of the Day: There is an adorable woman who must be in her 60's enjoying a cup of coffee and giggling to herself while reading Harry Potter. I've never read Harry Potter, but I can appreciate the beauty of the scene anyway.

posted by Bekah at 10:25 AM :: |

 
And for all you young Catholic athletes out there...this really is too good to be true. That kid is actually tackling Jesus! Please don't neglect to view page 2, featuring ballet, golf, hockey, and martial arts. God is everywhere, children. But he doesn't wear the team uniform.

Thanks for the tip, Mara. You know what I like.

posted by Bekah at 1:11 PM :: |

 
The Classics

Every time I watch Tommy Boy, I have a secret wish. I secretly wish that I'll think it's stupid and boring--that I'll realize that maybe, just maybe, 23 years is too old to find humor in "fat guy in a little coat." I wish that I could watch the m&ms fall into the dashboard and not be moved. I wish I could see Tommy stroke his naughty little pet ("you're naughty"), and not become hysterical. And the "cat-like speed and reflexes," and the "I wish we'd known each other, that was a little awkward," and the "it's called reading, top to bottom, left to right, a group of words together is a sentence," and the old favorite, "Shut up, Richard"...I wait for the day when these shining golden nuggets of comedic brilliance will not amuse me. That day has not yet come. And so, I have reached the unavoidable conclusion that Tommy Boy is timeless. Make no mistake: Tommy Boy is not alone. I would venture to say that there will never be a time when Fletch, Dead Man on Campus, Happy Gilmore, Office Space, Meet the Parents, and So I Married An Ax-Murderer won't be funny to me. This is a short list; it is by no means exhaustive of the movies I could watch over and over and still enjoy. For example, I watched The Breakfast Club a few days ago and was, yet again, impressed by its genius. If you haven't watched it lately, please do so. They just don't make them like that anymore.

Which brings me to my next point. Some people watch a movie once and believe they have gleaned all there is to glean. I think this attitude flies in the face of what makes motion pictures so amazing and wonderful. Just like books, movies can be visited and revisited forever. And just like books, there is a lot that a second, or even third (or, say, 50th if Fletch is concerned) visit can give you that you might have missed the first time. Melissa and I were recently discussing the many virtues of re-reading. Re-reading is almost better than reading an entirely new book, because it allows you to re-experience the joy of an old favorite while at the same time giving you insight into yourself. You can really learn a lot about how you've grown by reading a book again and discovering things you never noticed before. Melissa just re-read Pride and Prejudice and To Kill A Mockingbird. I read The Diary of Anne Frank in 8th grade, and read it again a few weeks ago after visiting her hiding place in Amsterdam. It was an amazing experience, because I was constantly comparing my reactions now to my memories of reading it then. There are so many things I can see in Anne's writing now that I didn't appreciate when I was 14.

There are, however, some downsides to endless re-viewing. I've watched some movies so many times that I start to think the actors are saying their lines wrong. ("Wait, the inflection in Spade's delivery of 'your brain has a thick candy shell' was totally off right there. There should have been much more emphasis on 'thick.' And does Fletch really say 'can I borrow your towel for a sec; my car just hit a water buffalo.'? That's totally not the way he said it before.") With each viewing, I think the acting just gets worse and worse, because the actors seem to be obviously anticipating their lines. Then I realize that I'm the one anticipating the lines and, if I'm not careful, I'm the one saying them too. Ah, whatever. I say them better anyway--after all, I've had a lot more practice than the actors have.

posted by Bekah at 10:57 AM :: |

 
Mama Mia

Just when I thought it wasn't possible, Starbucks has managed to bring me even more angst. (Note that although I use the term "angst," I think you can tell that my anger with Starbucks and everything it stands for has pretty much devolved into general amusement. I don't laugh out loud or anything, but I don't seethe anymore either). On this particular morning, three "working moms" (because, true to Southern bumper sticker wisdom, "every mom is a working mom") are engaged in a lively debate at the table next to mine. What is this debate about, you ask? Politics? Global warming? Prayer in school? Ah, sadly, no. This debate is about pasta salad, and, more specifically, how much (brace yourself) ranch dressing should be included. In addition to this general debate (still ongoing as I write, with no sign of resolution), the ladies were diverted momentarily into a discussion about how funny it was that their kids all said "No peas, mom! No peas!" in reference to their recently served pasta salads. Other previous conversation topics included their sons' love lives, shoe sales, and whether or not someone named Rhoda would be coming this morning.

That will never be me...that will never be me...that will never be me...that will never be me...that will never be me...

...Not that there's anything wrong with that.

posted by Bekah at 10:38 AM :: |

 
Mmm...beer

Here's a picture of my new favorite beer that I mentioned before. It's called Neubourg, and I read one description that said it comes in a "poncy blue bottle." Funny, right? However you describe the bottle, the beer is very light and smooth and doesn't have a bad aftertaste. I like dark beers too, but this one is ideal for lunch or a refreshing afternoon snack. Good luck finding it stateside, though. The Silver Bullet, although wonderful in its own way, is such a poor substitute for the poncy blue bottle...sniff...


posted by Bekah at 5:29 PM :: |

 
This Time of Year

"There's a feeling in the air, just like a Friday afternoon..." That old Better Than Ezra song is so evocative of fall, isn't it? The first falling leaves, the smell of fireplaces, the feel of a football in your hands. I get shivers when I hear it. In the good old days when I used to make mixtapes religiously, that song was a staple. As Dad would say, "it's been regularly anthologized."

I was just reminded of that song today (despite the extremely un-fall-like weather right now...eew, sweaty) because I'm working out my fall schedule and starting to think about other back to school things, such as how I'm going to deal with some of the scary law students who will be smugly returning from their upper-crusty internships. Anyway, I think I've finally decided which classes to take, and I'm actually (gasp) excited about most of them. Begone Contracts! Sayonara Civ Pro! Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Legal Research and Writing! Here's the current lineup, possibly subject to some tweaking:

Constitutional Criminal Procedure (Investigation)
Environmental Law--Natural Resources
14th Amendment
International Human Rights Law
Family Law

You'll notice, I hope, what's missing: no Business Enterprises, no Income Tax, no Evidence. I'm taking Evidence in the Spring, and I'm taking BE and Tax...never. I don't care what anyone says, I'm not subjecting myself to the horror that those classes would bring me. I'll wait for the bar course. I don't think I'm making a bad decision either. My Criminal Law professor, who also happens to be my legal role model and guru, told me that from now on I should take what I want to take, Income Tax be damned. Her reasoning makes a lot of sense: if you take classes you like, you'll be happier and you'll do better, and people who take the other classes will still have to take a bar review anyway. I like the way her mind works. Especially if it gets me out of taking Tax.

"I haven't seen 'Evil Dead Two' yet," and Other Linguistic Ambiguities

I walked into Spinning today and told the instructor to take it easy on me since I'd been gone for over a month. After class, she came up to me and said, "What were you talking about? You did really well!" Honestly, I couldn't tell if she meant "Wow! I'm impressed by how in shape you are after a month-long hiatus" or "Aw, sweetie, 'A' for effort! You'll get back into it soon! Want a lollipop? I have watermelon, your favorite!" Either way, it was good to get back to the gym, especially because the pastel jumpsuit/chunky mascara girls aren't back in town yet.

posted by Bekah at 5:11 PM :: |

 
Culture Shock Therapy

Even though I was only out of the country for 3 and a half weeks, I'm having some difficulty (beyond the usual jet lag) getting re-acclimated. I don't want to get all philosophical here (my friends would groan, "oh hell, Bekah's having one of her 'moments' again"), but I just feel funny. I feel as if I traveled in time, or was cryogenically frozen, and now I have to try to fit back into my old life, which seems really far away and really familiar at the same time. When I was on the plane back home, I absolutely could not remember where I'd put the key to my apartment. I knew I'd brought it with me when I went to the airport, but I could not think back to the moment when I'd packed it. It took me forever to find the zipper pouch where the key was in hiding. Now that I'm home, things like driving and setting my alarm clock and going through my cds don't feel difficult, but they feel strange. I know exactly what I'm doing, but I still feel a little rusty and confused--like I'm going through the motions of life without really thinking about them. Like I'm speaking a language perfectly but not understanding what it means. When I was in Amsterdam, I had to really think about everything I did: (Where am I going? What street is this? How do I get to school? What kind of cheese is that in the window? Holy hell, is this beer really cheaper than the water? What is that strange man doing? Is that what I think it is in the window? When is the train?). Here, my hand hits my alarm clock, I stumble into the shower, wander to my car, run errands, park myself at Starbucks...all without a thought. The first day I went through this ritual after being home, I felt as though I'd never left at all. That cryogenically frozen feeling is very strange. Where did those 3 and a half weeks go? What effect did they really have? Will I ever be able to write or think coherently again? Why are Grape Nuts called Grape Nuts? These questions plague me.

Smile, Your Dentist Might Get You a Job

A few days ago, I got an email from my dentist. It was not a blank form-style email informing me that it's time for an appointment. Instead, my dentist actually gave me a legal contact. Apparently, my mom had mentioned that I was studying IP law this summer, and he just wanted to pass on the name of someone he knew who specialized in that area. He also sent a copy of the email to said specialist. Being pretty delinquent with the whole networking thing (wait, a job isn't going to just fall in my lap?), I thought this was incredibly cool. I am definitely going to write this guy. But more importantly, I'm going to make a concerted effort to floss regularly. If I let my dental hygiene slip I just might lose an unexpected foot in the door.

posted by Bekah at 8:51 PM :: |