The firm where I work is looking to hire a new legal assistant. Since I am one of the lucky attorneys that will be assigned to work with the new hire, I was asked to participate in the interviews. I must say, it was an interesting experience to be on the other end of the table; asking the ridiculous questions rather than scrambling to answer them without sounding like a total idiot. On the one hand, it was reassuring to know that everyone struggles to sound coherent under that kind of pressure. On the other hand, I got a little tired of hearing how "perfectionism" is such a weakness. Really? Could you be any more cliche? Anyway, after interviewing 5 applicants and tossing out fluster-inducing questions like "What's the worst thing you've ever done in a job that your boss doesn't know about?", we narrowed the field to our top three and the hiring partner called the applicant at the top of the list to offer her the job. Minutes after she accepted, the office bookkeeper casually asked if we had Googled the applicant to whom the job had just been offered. No, but now that you mention it... It turns out our top pick had been arrested and placed on administrative leave from her last job just two weeks ago on charges of official misconduct, theft II, four counts of computer crime and four counts of forgery I. Funny, when I asked why she left her last job, she said she was interested in getting back into the private sector because there were more opportunities there. Yeah, I guess she wasn't lying, but I didn't realize just what opportunities she was referring to. Needless to say, that offer was quickly rescinded, but let that be a lesson to you all. Good idea: applying for a job in a field in which you're well experienced and qualified, and being polished and professional enough in your interview to get a job offer. Bad idea: failing to realize the number one Google hit on your name is a newspaper article advertising the fact that two weeks ago, you were fired from your last job for theft, forgery and official misconduct and you may be facing jail time. I think my favorite part about this story is that she asked to have her start date moved back until next Tuesday as opposed to Monday because she was going to be "traveling with her family" on Monday. Yes, traveling to the courthouse for an initial appearance. Epic FAIL!!!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
2010 midterm madness via Facebook status updates.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
I have a dream
I love Portland. I pretty much love everything about this tree-hugging hippie nirvana, but at this very moment, I am utterly and irretrievably on the wrong side of the country. Why, you ask? Because in two weeks, this is happening in our nation's glorious capital. When my favorite political satirist, Jon Stewart, issued his clarion call to the so-called busy majority, I instantly thought, "Hey! That's me!!!" I easily fit into that category of people who..."think shouting is annoying, counterproductive, and terrible for your throat; who feel that the loudest voices shouldn’t be the only ones that get heard; and who believe that the only time it’s appropriate to draw a Hitler mustache on someone is when that person is actually Hitler. Or Charlie Chaplin in certain roles." As we sink deeper and deeper into the mire of mid-term elections, I find it ironically fitting that the only person pleading for a return to sanity is a guy who makes a very lucrative living from his spot-on skewering of the idiotic actions and remarks of public figures. Where is the sanity? (And don't bother pointing out to me the inherent contradiction between my asking where the sanity is, and having a blog that boasts a quote about insanity in the header. I'm aware of that fact.) Who thought it would be a good idea to create a dedicated media forum for the crazy people? And why are said crazy people always the ones screaming the loudest? (I'm looking at you Fox News, and all your inane and incendiary talking heads) Oh yeah. It's because the sane people aren't screaming at all. It's not that we don't care. We care deeply. We're just a little too busy doing sane things like, oh, I don't know...working real jobs; the kind that require a degree from an institution a little more legitimate than the Glenn Beck University. It's tough to sneak away to a crazy person rally if you're gainfully employed. And in all honesty, I'm not really the type to want to attend any kind of large scale event where piping hot b.s. is served up for my consumption. But I desperately want to attend Jon Stewart's rally. I don't think it will have the effect of bringing down demagogues of the unfair and imbalanced, a la Tucker Carlson and "Crossfire," though that would be awesome. I'm just glad someone is finally acknowledging the fact that the nation isn't completely comprised of hyper-polarized d-bags and nut jobs, but that there are plenty of us who fall in the netherworld of sanity. Which brings me back to my original dilemma. I live on the wrong side of the country. I can't afford the impromptu trip out there, so I'm accepting donations and/or free plane tickets from anyone who cares to contribute to the cause of sanity. Any takers?
Friday, October 1, 2010
Oooh, shiny!
As I was checking out my hair in a mirror today, something I do quite frequently on days when I don't just wear it in a ponytail (you know you fret about your hair too, so don't judge), I noticed something out of the ordinary. My hair and I have a long and tortured history. It's too curly, too poufy, too thick and it can clog a drain like nobody's business. And it happens to be one of my best features. Go figure. But while I may not have any particular affinity for the size of my hair (it's large), I have always loved the color. I made the mistake of bleaching my hair once when I was in college, and I was so horrified at the result that I resolved never to mess with the color of my hair again. Today I noticed that the light over the mirror was reflecting on a particular strand of my hair that seemed most out of place. My first thought was, "Oooh, shiny!" But then I realized it wasn't highlight shiny. Oh no. This strand was tinsel shiny. I gave it a tug, thinking it surely couldn't be attached, but it definitely was firmly connected to my head. When I was in law school, my hair fell out by the handful, but it never went gray, like I half expected it to. Evidently it wanted to save that particular transformative act for later. Like right now. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that. My first inclination was not to go out and buy some hair dye, so I guess that's good. I decided after seeing "The Devil Wears Prada" that I wanted to rock a perfect silver coif like Meryl Streep, and neatly sidestep the hair coloring that seems like such a futile attempt to cling to youth. However, I did not think I'd be faced with the possibility of rocking that look in my twenties. Seriously, hair, what is your deal? I'm too young for this!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Free fallin'
Not long ago, Scott and I had a conversation about how we'd like to celebrate our 30th birthdays. Without hesitation, I said I wanted to go skydiving...and I wanted him to go with me. He laughed it off, thinking with two more years to go, he'd have plenty of time to convince me to change my birthday wish. Last month, when I was having a particularly rough day at work, I got an email from Scott, telling me one of his co-workers was trying to get a group together to go skydiving, and did I want to go? Um, duh? So I diverted some funds away from the black hole of student loan repayment and coughed up the cash, eager for the chance to plummet from a plane at 13,000 feet. Scott didn't quite share my enthusiasm, but ever the sport, he agreed to accompany me. After weeks of anticipation, the day at last arrived. Today. We drove out to Molalla, aka Middle of Nowhere, Oregon. What better place for a jump? As soon as we handed over the balance of the fee, we were presented with a 10 page legal waiver, reminding us of the obvious fact that jumping out of an airplane is an inherently dangerous activity, and should we end up a greasy spot on the landing field, our next of kin can forget about suing the diving school. We signed our lives away and were presented with two tickets entitling us each to a tandem jump. We were led back into a small classroom for our jump training, which was literally five minutes long. An instructor told us not to flail in freefall, demonstrated how to lift our feet at landing, and told us not to walk into the plane's propeller because it would be really expensive to fix. I'm not sure I felt particularly encouraged by that little speech, and I definitely didn't feel instructed, but since it was a tandem jump, I figured my jump buddy would be doing the bulk of the work, so I would just focus on not flailing. We spent the next three hours watching the crowds thin, as groups of people went up in the sky, disappeared from view, reappeared as tiny specks spilling from the back of the plane, glided back down to earth, and dropped to the ground. After watching several people make not so smooth looking landings, I decided I didn't want to ruin the jeans I was wearing by making a butt landing. It just looked painful. The hours passed and any jitters we might have had ebbed as we waited. Soon, we were all just itching to get on with it. We took tons of pictures and goofed around to pass the time. At long last, we were the very last people left in the queue. They called us in to harness up and pair us with a tandem buddy. I was paired with our instructor. Very reassuring. I was sure to stay away from the propeller, per his instructions. Then...it was time. We loaded into the plane, and since I was the last to board, I was at the front of the line to jump. The plane took off and began ascending. At 3,000 feet, my jump buddy hooked his harness to mine and tried to make small talk over the extremely loud noises of the engine. I think he expected me to be much more nervous than I was. At 10,000 feet, he pointed out the window and drew my attention to the winding Willamette, and downtown Portland in the distance. Oh my. At 13,000 feet, a solo jumper opened the door to the plane and my tandem buddy started scooting me forward. He asked me if I was ready to jump. Well, if I wasn't, it was a little late for second thoughts. There was no way I was going to back out now. The solo jumper disappeared, followed quickly by a guy from our group sitting to my right. Before I knew it, I was standing at the open door of the plane and out we fell!!!! At first, I was completely disoriented. The horizon tilted and when I realized I was falling, I squeezed my eyes shut and started screaming my head off, but only for a second or two. I opened my eyes and took it all in. It was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen and the most unbelievable feeling in the world. Free fall lasted just over a minute, which wasn't nearly long enough. When my tandem buddy pulled the parachute, I remembered to start screaming again. He asked me if I get motion sickness, and if you know me at all, you know I get raging car sickness and have had that problem since childhood. But I wanted an adventure!! So of course I lied through my teeth and said I did not! He then proceeded to test my resolve, and demonstrate his ability to dip and twirl and spin the chute in the air. It was better than any roller coaster I'd ever been on. The ground started coming up on us fast, and I asked him if we could possibly avoid a butt landing. He said the wind was picking up, making the landing a little precarious, but he'd try. When he told me to pull up my feet, I did, and when he told me to run, I ran. And my butt never touched the ground. It was the perfect jump. I can't wait to do it again!!!! But now what am I going to do for the big 3-0? I'm open to suggestions!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Cuenta y verás...
Sometimes it overwhelms me to look at my life and realize how completely blessed I am. Last week, utterly out of the blue, I got a call from a friend with whom I haven't had contact in over a year. He tells me that his law firm is looking to hire a new associate, and asks me if I'm interested in interviewing for the position. Yes, I was definitely interested. The interview was on Friday, and on Monday evening I got a call from the hiring partner telling me the job was mine if I wanted it. Better pay, benefits and the opportunity to try my hand at something new. I took several days to think it over, and when I decided to accept, I found myself in the unenviable position of having to break the news to my current boss. My current boss is quite possibly the coolest person alive. He gave me a shot right out law school, has been a great mentor and is a fantastic boss. If the pay were better and the work was something I'm actually interested in, I'd probably stay here indefinitely. When I went to tell my boss that I'm leaving, his reaction was not one of annoyance or anger, but of excitement for me, at having such a great opportunity fall into my lap. He said he was sorry to see me go, but that the door would always be open to me if I decide to return. No guilt trip, no ploys to get me to stay, no pressure. So I'm moving on to a new job, new skill set, new co-workers and a new adventure. Scott is also in the process of obtaining new employment, and though it has been long and arduous (and promises to remain so for a while), things appear to be falling into place for him as well. Taking stock of my life really helps me keep things in perspective. I have had the opportunity to accomplish everything I ever set out to do. I have the privilege of sharing those amazing experiences with the person I love most in this world. I want for nothing. And I am grateful.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
MLIA moment
One of my favorite time wasters online is the fabulous site, My Life Is Average.com. It's a site where people congregate to swap little affirmations about things that happen in their lives that make them "average." In reality, while some of the postings are truly mundane, most of the postings are not average at all, and the apparent goal is to have the most random/awesome/unbelievable thing happen to you. As you read it, you're fairly certain that an occurrence like the following would never happen in real life:
"Today, I was at my friend's house and found duct tape in his kitchen. Naturally, I tackled him to the ground, duct taped his hands behind his back, duct taped his mouth, and sat on him. His sister walked in. No, she did not high-five me. She just looked confused and awkwardly walked away."
Yesterday I was leaving the office, carrying a large notebook full of exhibits for an upcoming arbitration hearing. I had to make a pit stop before heading to my car, and as I went to wash my hands, I realized the entire counter was wet and there was nowhere to put my notebook. So I set it down on top of the paper towel dispenser, which is one of those motion activated contraptions that shakes ever so slightly as it lowers each paper towel. I washed my hands, activated the dispenser and wiped my hands dry. Just as I did, I noticed my notebook was starting to wobble. I threw away the paper towel and held out my hands, just as the notebook fell into them. I looked around for witnesses to my awesomeness, but alas, there were none. At that moment, the only thing I could think was, "My life is average," as I put on my sunglasses and went home.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The great escape
Still no word on the outcome of my job interview, but by this point, I'm not holding my breath. Moving on. Since there is no avoiding the tangible reality of my job dissatisfaction, the next best thing I can do is try to maximize the enjoyment I get out of the eight waking hours of the day when I am not tethered to my desk. The list of activities includes daily runs on the trail behind my house, nightly walks with my best guy, ballroom dance classes, Wii boxing matches in which I am occasionally the winner, Daria on dvd... and books. Oh, books. I have always loved to read, but law school effectively made reading a dreadful chore of the worst kind, and it has been years since I fully indulged my love of the written word. This summer, armed with my library card (is there anything better than "free" access to books?), I decided it was high time to rediscover pleasure reading. I started out with an offering by F. Scott Fitzgerald, not only because I like his style, but because his flowery prose actually requires me to slow down and think about what he is saying, rather than just speed reading for issue spotting and main ideas. It was wonderful to actually be able to sit with my book, reading at my leisure and not worrying about whether my interpretation of the author's intent would conform to that of a professor. However, while reading a book which offers some degree of mental calisthenics can be fun, as the summer has worn on, my interests have begun to sway towards stories into which I can really just escape. Yesterday I finished reading The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins, and it was absolutely phenomenal. I could not put it down. If you haven't yet read it, get to the library right this second and check it out. The best part about being wrapped up in a story to that extent, is the fact that, while I was vicariously experiencing life in a post-apocalyptic dystopia, I didn't have to fully resign myself to life in boringly functional suburban adultville. It's like those horribly cheesy posters that line the entrance of the library. "Explore new worlds. Read." Here's one for you: Escape the monotony of grown up responsibilities and routine while you're saving up for your next big vacation. Read. Oh, books. How could I ever have let myself forget how wonderful you can be?
Friday, July 23, 2010
No more shooting up with the Red Cross
When I was 17, the Red Cross held a blood drive at my high school. A bunch of my friends had signed up to donate, and, not to be outdone, I too put my name on the list. That single act of "don't wanna look like a pansy-ism" has resulted in many subsequent donations, and an oh so attractive cluster of needle point scars over the one vein in my arm that is occasionally visible enough to tap. I figure, since my body can efficiently replace the lost blood, then there's no reason for me to hoard it. On the other end of the spectrum, is Scott. His mantra is that he needs his blood. All of it. In the nearly 5 years that I have known him, I have tried many times to convince him to accompany me to a blood drive and donate. My success rate in that endeavor has been an astounding 0%. Apparently I was going about it all wrong. Last Sunday the blood drive coordinator from our ward was recruiting donors for the latest extravaganza, and he approached Scott about donating. For some odd reason, when confronted with the fact that I had already signed up, Scott mysterious told the coordinator he would do it too. Apparently "don't wanna look like a pansy-ism" isn't only a high school malady...you just need the proper motivation for it to come out. The blood drive was yesterday, and though I was informed that my blood pressure was lower than normal (but slightly higher than that of a corpse), my donation went off without a hitch. When it was Scott's turn, I was sure to hover and provide moral support. I cracked lame jokes while the technician inserted the needle, and I reassured him that the worst part was over. After exactly two minutes, Scott mumbled that he wasn't feeling so hot. A staffer came over and started to put the back of his chair down to ease the feeling. She told him to uncross his legs and cough, but there was no response from him. The color completely drained from his face, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he was gone. After yelling his name no fewer than 7 times without any response, the staffer called for reinforcements and quickly set about removing the needle and doing what she could to help Scott regain consciousness. It was quite the flurry of excitement. Scott finally came around after several seconds of radio silence, and was presented with his golden ticket response for any future donor coordinators trying to put the squeeze on him: Donor Reaction. The staffer checked the box on Scott's form, asked him some questions to make sure he was feeling better, instructed him to stay put for another 15 minutes, and then rest an additional 15 minutes at the snack table. We spent the requisite amount of time hanging out and laughing it up with other donors in attendance, all of whom I'm sure were glad the center of attention was not any of them. We had to ditch Scott's car at the stake center because he was obviously in no position to drive, and on the way home, he informed me that while he had seen a light, he didn't go towards it. Though I'm pretty sure no one had ever died while giving blood, I was reassured nonetheless.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Managing expectations
I'm in the midst of a sneezing fit at this very second. I ate way too much at lunch and my current condition is an unfortunate side effect of my gluttony. I have no idea why overeating makes me sneeze 25 times in a row, but it does. That has nothing to do with my motivation for blogging today. I have a job interview on Thursday. I'm super excited about it, but it's also a little nerve-wracking. It's a job I've had my eye on for a while, so just making it past the resume wasteland is an ego-booster. However, sad experience has taught me that it is at this point that things can quickly become demoralizing (I'm looking at you, FBI). I like to think that I look pretty good on paper, but being the realist that I am, I also know there are tons of other applicants who look far better on paper. I have accepted the fact that my resume is really an incomplete snapshot of who I am, and if I don't get a call back, it's probably because I'm still building up that working world credibility. The failing is my resume's fault, not mine personally. I can live with that. But when I get called in for an interview, suddenly the pressure ratchets up a few notches because I know that I present pretty well in person. This means that if I don't end up getting a job offer, the failure is personal. It means I may be adequate on paper, but in person I somehow fail to measure up and no amount of creative spin can change that. With this particular interview, the pressure is even more pronounced, because two of the three interviewers on the panel are people I know, who encouraged me to apply for the job. That fact had me feeling pretty confident at first, but now I'm grappling with the understanding that it would be quite prudent to keep my expectations in check. It's highly unlikely that I'm going to walk in the door and have them offer me the job, despite the fact that they know me and ostensibly think I'd be a good fit for the position. I'm still a pretty young lawyer, and undoubtedly there are more qualified candidates who will also be vying for the position. While getting to the interview stage is usually a major accomplishment, in this case, I fear getting the interview was the easy part. If I get the job, it means higher pay, better benefits, and my personal favorite, a permanent departure from private practice. This is everything I want. Is it too much to hope for?
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Love/hate...mostly hate
Did you know that lawyers are almost twice as likely as the general population to suffer from depression? That was the cheery affirmation that arrived on my desk this morning in the form of the Oregon Attorney Assistance Program newsletter's front page story. Is that supposed to be a pep talk? I was out of the office on vacation all last week, and it was glorious. Spending hours on end, road tripping with my best guy, seeing friends and family, scuba diving in the frigid waters of the Puget Sound, and all of it, even the most boring part, was a million times better than being at work. In fact, coming back to work, to a massive stack of papers that most definitely wasn't there when I left, was an event that could accurately be described as depressing. Which leads me to wonder, is my growing weariness of my job a product of being in a position that is ill-fitting, or is being an attorney just an inherently depressing line of work? I have a serious love/hate relationship with the entire situation. I love not being unemployed. I have friends who are still searching for jobs in the over-saturated legal field, and their struggles overwhelm me with gratitude that I was able to transition from bar study to work with absolutely no downtime. But I was so anxious to avoid the breadline that I jumped at the first job offer I got. Okay, so it turned out to be the only offer (out of hundreds of resumes I sent out), but this has led me to continually wonder if I may have found something better if I had just been willing to wait it out. I love that I have nearly a year of substantive legal experience under my belt, which will surely be of great use to me when and if my dream job does finally materialize. I hate that all that experience is in an area of law in which I have zero interest in remaining. I love that my current job has enabled me to dust of my languishing Spanish skills and actually use them on a daily basis. I hate that I have to deal with Spanish speakers all day long who assume that because I'm a white girl, I can't possibly understand what they are saying to me, let alone their problems. I love working in an office that is relaxed and laid back. I hate that I'm the only one that doesn't seem to get to take advantage of the "come in late and leave early" policy because I feel guilty if I don't put in 8 hours. I hate that every case I work on settles before I really get a chance to do any real lawyering. I hate that my paychecks, which are a joke anyway, go entirely to pay for my student loans. I hate that I feel like I sold out because I was so concerned about where the money would come from to make those student loan payments. I hate that I bought into the law school scam in the first place and will spend an indefinite amount of time paying for that mistake. I hate private practice. There, I said it. I really do. All I'm doing is trying to get money for clients for whom money is an imperfect remedy. They're never happy with the results, no matter how good they are from a legal standpoint. Yes, mostly hate. I'm daydreaming of getting that ideal job; the one I love so much, I'd do for free, while toiling away at a job I practically am doing for free, that essentially saps my will to live. No wonder lawyers are a despondent bunch. On the upside, Scott made a decision regarding grad school that we're both happy with, and things seem to be panning out with the dream job prospect he has been shooting for. One less thing to agonize about. And if things would just start panning out with the dream job prospect I have been shooting for, the love/hate balance might finally shift in favor of the former. I can only hope.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
C'mon gravity! You used to be cool!!
When stress abounds in my life, I reassure myself by repeating the mantra, "Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, then it's not the end." Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. Right now, it's not working. For the last three weeks, the refrain at our house has been "We don't care if the answer is yes or no; we just want an answer so we can start making our plans." Well, today we got the answer, and it was no. This means it's time to stop living in denial and start facing the fact that Scott really wants to go to GW over PSU. I can't say I blame him. If grad school is at least partially about the name brand factor, this decision is pretty much a no-brainer. But the price tag weighs heavily on my mind, especially given the fact that we are already saddled with so much student debt. GW would double it. Ever the pragmatist that I am, this terrifies me. Ever the optimist that Scott is, he is sure that we will be fine. I'm trying hard to look past the money issue in order to get a better handle on the situation. It's not easy. But here are the pleasant facts: Our lease is up in August, which would make it an ideal time to relocate. We have just enough in savings to be able to shove a handful of our possessions into the car and take a road trip across the country, while leaving the remainder of our possessions in storage here. I've wanted to go back to DC since I interned there 7 years ago, and we've always talked about moving to the east coast eventually. We don't yet have kids, so picking up and moving across the country and living in an apartment furnished with freecycled everything is actually feasible. The job opportunities we want are there. Grad school is only two years; if we end up hating it there after two years, we can come back here (or go somewhere else) with relative ease. It would be an undeniable adventure. Here are the not so pleasant facts: The cost of living in DC is about 50% higher than it is here, so we're guaranteed to be living in an absolute ghetto for the next two years. We actually have jobs here that pay the bills. We have friends here. And I absolutely love living in Portland. As you can see, there are strong arguments for both sides. As I think about it, I know part of my hesitancy stems from the fact that life is so good for us here. And if Scott goes to PSU, we get to stay here, he gets that MBA he's been craving, tuition is so very much cheaper, and the status stays quo. However, part of me is asking "What if?" What if things are supposed to be even better? It's a pretty massive leap of faith...over a seemingly bottomless pit. But as usual, my fretting is largely for my own benefit, because, when it comes right down to it, it's not just my decision to make. For some reason, Scott didn't appreciate my suggestion that he move out there by himself and not come back here until he's a Master. Sigh. Someone tell me what we should do. Please.
Monday, May 24, 2010
The one with all the answers
I am waxing nostalgic at the moment, thinking back to the days when my life was infinitely simpler, and the toughest decisions I had to make related to which friend I wanted to play with, or what song I wanted to listen to on my little pink radio, as I danced around the living room. Things were definitely easier to figure out then. Of course, if ever I came up against a question to which I had no clear answer, I would resort to my trusty Magic 8 ball to show me the way. Was there any query that magical toy could not handle? In light of the big decisions that have been interfering with my ability to sleep lately, I have decided to seek the wisdom of that sage, for it surely had all the answers then, so why not now?
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Every time I start to think..."Maybe..."
I stumble upon something like this... http://shitmykidsruined.com/
Friday, May 14, 2010
Language barriers
The sun is shining brightly through my office window, and has been interfering with my concentration all day. Toward the end of the day, I got a phone call from an insurance adjuster about a complaint I recently filed, asking me how much time I had billed on the case thus far. Drat. Another case heading for settlement before I even get a chance to get my hands dirty. So far I have a perfect record of getting cases settled. I guess no one wants to fight me. I put the adjuster on hold to inquire of the boss how much time he had on the case before it came to me, and then picked up the call to the adjuster to let him know how much fees are going to be. After telling him what my time was going to cost him, I waited for the response, but there was only silence. I thought for a second that we had been cut off, but the line didn't go dead, so clearly there was still someone on the other end. The secretary then piped up that I might have picked up a call she had put on hold, which was with a Spanish speaking client. Sure enough, when I said the client's name, he confirmed that I had picked up the wrong line and was duly befuddled at why I was going off in English about something that had nothing to do with him. The adjuster got a good laugh when I told him the reason for his extended wait on hold, and assured me that it's Friday. It happens. It surely does. Can I have my weekend now??? Please?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Definitely not a party
Several months ago, a law school friend of mine updated her Facebook status to read: "Just got out of Ex Parte. They lied. It isn't a party." I've been a lawyer long enough now that the '09 bar number is thankfully not the latest model, but I'm still new enough at the whole thing that I'm still experiencing lots of firsts at work. Yesterday was my first experience with ex parte, and my friend was right. Definitely not a party. My boss explained to me that the process essentially consists of going before the presiding judge, introducing myself, calling the case, and telling her what I wanted. It sounded easy enough, and since I'd gotten quite a bit of similar court experience at my last job, I hopped in my car and headed down to the courthouse. My first attempt was an utter strike out, because, while I was told ex parte started at 9:00am, I wasn't informed that it ends at 9:05am if there are only a handful of lawyers in attendance. So when I finally made it through security and up to the courtroom, I was sorely disappointed to find it empty, with the exception of one pro se litigant who also didn't know about the five minute rule. So I had to come back at 1:30pm that same day for another shot at face time with the judge. I was so paranoid about being late again that I showed up at 1, and miraculously found a parking spot right in front of the courthouse. In downtown Portland, I think this will be an experience to commit to memory because it will never happen again. The line to get through security was long, and of course I had to take off my shoes and belt and shove them, along with my purse, through the x-ray machine. After going through the metal detector, I hurried to get my things and head up to the courtroom, but in my haste, left my purse at the security table. Seriously? Luckily, I realized my blunder before some klepto had the opportunity to make off with it. Back in the courtroom, I waited as the attorneys trickled in, and I realized that afternoon is the inherently superior option to morning ex parte. The room was quickly filled with people. The judge came in, we all formed a line, and took turns making our requests. The guy in front of me got up and introduced himself and was calling the case, when he realized he had the wrong case number on his pleading. Oops. So he ducked out of the line and then it was my turn. I didn't think I could possibly do any worse than that guy, so I strolled confidently up to the podium and announced my name and affiliation, along with the correct case number. Then I asked the judge for a reset on the trial date. She asked me if I wanted it in normal course or with dates certain. Huh? I responded with the ever witty "That's an excellent question" response as I quickly scanned my pleading to see if the boss had indicated whether or not he wanted a set date or just the next available date on the docket. Of course he had not. The judge, so patient and reassuring, started explaining to me what each option entailed. If the rest of the lawyers in the line didn't know I was a rookie before, they sure did now. I blurted out that I wanted normal course because it sounded like the most reasonable option, handed my pleading to the clerk, and walked towards the door. I wasn't sure if that was all there was to it, so I went slow enough that the judge could call me back if she needed to, but she didn't, so I left, feeling adequately flustered. Nope, definitely not a party.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
On shuffle
My iTunes is on shuffle right now, and the chorus of the current song keeps repeating the phrase "Is anybody waiting at all?" As it turns out, the answer is yes. Scott's grad school apps have been in for almost a month, and we're at that point where responses are trickling in. So far, the tally is one yes (from a safety school) and one no (from the reach school), and Scott has two interviews scheduled for next week. Starting off with an acceptance is the most overwhelmingly relieving thing about the whole process, even if it's a yes from a safety school. It means that you are for sure going on to grad school, which takes some of the pressure off. I remember well what it was like to get a yes right off the bat. Huge sigh of relief. And with more schools indicating "maybe" by inviting Scott to interview, a sense of excitement is definitely there at the possibility of having multiple options to ultimately choose from. It's pretty fun to see Scott so thrilled about this newest adventure. I admit, I'm a little excited too. But with 5 more schools yet to respond, things are still utterly up in the air. My way of dealing with situations beyond my control is to make a spreadsheet, crunching the numbers and weighing the strengths and weaknesses of the schools that are still in the running. Ridiculous, right? I know. Especially since it's me, and not him that is agonizing over the numbers. He thinks it's hilarious. Maybe it is, just a little. But seriously, higher education really is ridiculous. You pay a ton of money just to get the admissions committee to look at your application, you spend weeks of stressful anticipation waiting to find out if those schools are going to give you the privilege of giving them even more money, and inevitably there will be schools that determine that even though you are perfectly willing to give them tons of your money, they aren't going to waste their time inundating you with knowledge. And this is even before you set foot on campus for the first time. Wow. You would think that one year out of grad school, I'd be at least a little less jaded about the whole experience. Nope. The song playing now describes how I feel about school. I...Hate...Everything About You. And I'm not the only one that feels that way. Grad school makes people worse versions of themselves. I really hope MBA Scott isn't anything like Law School Me. Maybe that's my real apprehension about this whole situation.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Blindsided on an idle Thursday
One of my all time favorite songs includes the following admonition: "Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday."
I was never very good at following this counsel, as I am, by my very nature, a worrier. Today has been one of those days where I find myself agonizing over the big fat question mark that has managed to insert itself into the effortless routine of my current existence. At this very moment, Scott is in the throes of grad school applications, which means that this year, he's actually serious about getting that MBA. That's right, folks: it has been a drama three years in the making, but he took the GMAT last Saturday, narrowed his list of grad school selections, and is now banging at the door of higher education, anxiously waiting to see who answers. This is the year where it all happens. School in September is an all but foregone conclusion. He has applied to schools in the area and a handful of programs in various parts of the country, as is customary when you want to make sure you have options when you make a decision of this magnitude. With those options, comes the possibility of having to find a new place to call home. I can't help but reflect on how different the process was when I was in his shoes. I had no job, no commitments and no significant other to speak of, which meant I had nothing tying me down to a particular locale. I was invested nowhere which made me literally willing to go anywhere, and that was perfectly alright. I was able to fit all my earthly possessions into the back of my trusty Honda and go wherever fate took me, which incidentally, was the fabulous Pacific Northwest. It all worked out so perfectly, even though I do recall being an complete basket case when I was embarking on this particular adventure. Fast forward four years. Now, relocating means excitement but tempered by a healthy dose of anxiety. Will Scott be able to transfer with his job? Will I be able to find a job? Where will we live? How will this affect our other plans and goals? Can we afford to move? And of course the most daunting of all, the prospect of having to take the bar exam in another jurisdiction. Double shudder followed by a dry heave. The stumbling blind part, before you know that everything is going to work out, is the most stressful part of all. And as my lunch break winds down, I can only hope that work will occupy enough of my brain to keep the unnecessary fretting to a minimum.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The motivationator
When I was in my last year of law school, I had a countdown calendar to graduation, affectionately nicknamed "The Motivationator." I desperately needed something, anything, to keep me motivated to trudge on in those waning days of bitterness and malaise. Counting down the days motivated me. As a post-higher education adult, I must ask myself, what motivates me now? I have decided that planning awesome vacations motivates me. Maybe I should have been a travel agent. Planning our post-bar European vacation definitely carried me through those dark, dark months of bar preparation. And now, our next destination is Hawaii. And why not? We live on the West Coast, making travel to and from the islands (comparatively) cheap and (relatively) easy. As I try to keep my cool with never ending paperwork and ever present needy clients, I find that all I need to do is take a mental break and envision myself lazing on the beach or scuba diving at the reef, and presto. Will to live: restored. I think the planning is almost as fun as the vacationing itself. As part of our preparations for this trip, I have to get my open water diving certification, which is another fun thing to counterbalance the less fun aspects of being a grown up. I can't wait!! I have to say, tapping the savings account for a purpose other than paying down student loans is a most inviting prospect. 9 months to go. Let the counting down begin.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Now do you understand?
A friend posted this on his Facebook page, and it was too good not to share.
An Easily Understandable Explanation of Derivative Markets
By hydle Published: June 8, 2009
Heidi is the proprietor of a bar in Detroit . She realizes that virtually all of her customers are unemployed alcoholics and, as such, can no longer afford to patronize her bar. To solve this problem, she comes up with new marketing plan that allows her customers to drink now, but pay later.
She keeps track of the drinks consumed on a ledger (thereby granting the customers loans).
Word gets around about Heidi’s “drink now, pay later” marketing strategy and, as a result, increasing numbers of customers flood into Heidi’s bar. Soon she has the largest sales volume for any bar in Detroit .
By providing her customers’ freedom from immediate payment demands, Heidi gets no resistance when, at regular intervals, she substantially increases her prices for wine and beer, the most consumed beverages. Consequently, Heidi’s gross sales volume increases massively.
A young and dynamic vice-president at the local bank recognizes that these customer debts constitute valuable future assets and increases Heidi’s borrowing limit. He sees no reason for any undue concern, since he has the debts of the unemployed alcoholics as collateral.
At the bank’s corporate headquarters, expert traders transform these customer loans into DRINKBONDS, ALKIBONDS and PUKEBONDS. These securities are then bundled and traded on international security markets. Naive investors don’t really understand that the securities being sold to them as AAA secured bonds are really the debts of unemployed alcoholics.
Nevertheless, the bond prices continuously climb, and the securities soon become the hottest-selling items for some of the nation’s leading brokerage houses.
One day, even though the bond prices are still climbing, a risk manager at the original local bank decides that the time has come to demand payment on the debts incurred by the drinkers at Heidi’s bar. He so informs Heidi.
Heidi then demands payment from her alcoholic patrons, but being unemployed alcoholics they cannot pay back their drinking debts. Since, Heidi cannot fulfill her loan obligations she is forced into bankruptcy. The bar closes and the eleven employees lose their jobs.
Overnight, DRINKBONDS, ALKIBONDS and PUKEBONDS drop in price by 90%. The collapsed bond asset value destroys the banks liquidity and prevents it from issuing new loans, thus freezing credit and economic activity in the community.
The suppliers of Heidi’s bar had granted her generous payment extensions and had invested their firms’ pension funds in the various BOND securities. They find they are now faced with having to write off her bad debt and with losing over 90% of the presumed value of the bonds. Her wine supplier also claims bankruptcy, closing the doors on a family business that had endured for three generations, her beer supplier is taken over by a competitor, who immediately closes the local plant and lays off 150 workers.
Fortunately though, the bank, the brokerage houses and their respective executives are saved and bailed out by a multi-billion dollar no-strings attached cash infusion from the Government. The funds required for this bailout are obtained by new taxes levied on employed, middle-class, non-drinkers.
Now, do you understand?
http://www.hydle.com/blog/archives/338/comment-page-1
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Restless
The lunch hour is winding down and I have a ridiculously huge stack of files on my desk. I've been daydreaming about 5:00pm since I walked into my office. I am about 6 months into the "new and improved everything" life I so eagerly anticipated last summer, and already I find myself grappling with the inclination to move on. There has to be a name for my condition. I think I'll call it Existential ADD. On Sunday I spent an hour teaching a class of 14 year old girls how to get their lives in order, with the overarching theme of "don't be dumb." I'm pretty sure I said that at least 5 times. The world is yours, with its infinite possibilities. Don't be dumb, and life will be easier for you. I live my life by that mantra, and I like to think I haven't made an excessive amount of dumb choices. However, with each choice I make, a roadblock appears in front of the option I did not choose. And the infinite possibilities life offers become more and more finite for me each day with every road not taken. It's hard not to idealize that road not taken. I sometimes find myself looking around at others and taking stock of my own life, which inevitably leads me to believe that I'm somehow behind, or not where I thought I would be at this stage in my life. Of course this is ridiculous; I'm exactly where I knew I would be based on the choices I've made, but I still can't help but feel restless. I always thought of myself as a creature of habit with an affinity for routine. After all, there is comfort in familiarity. But as day to day life becomes more and more predictable, my current routine is starting to feel an awful lot like a rut. And while I'd very much like to escape that rut, I have a sneaking suspicion that whatever the next big thing is, it won't be big enough to hold my attention indefinitely. I wonder if they make a pill for this?
Friday, February 5, 2010
Thinking about higher education?
That's what my cash flow looks like, each and every month. That massive blue chunk comprising half the graph? Those are my monthly student loan payments. With the 20/20 clarity of hindsight, and in a nod to my aforementioned affinity for list making, here are the top 10 things I'd rather be doing with the funds in blue:
10: Replace my aged and battle-worn computer with a MacBook Pro.
9: Mid-winter mini vacation in Hawaii.
8: Sock it away in an IRA.
7: Replace the balding tires and cracked (in 4 places) windshield on my car.
6: Swap out my wedding ring set for new bling from a jeweler that isn't in danger of bankruptcy (I'm looking at you, Zales).
5: Weekend trip to DC to see the cherry blossoms.
4: Rebuild the savings account.
3: Buy ski gear and take advantage of the awesome skiing in Oregon.
2: Snag tickets to random Olympic events and take a road trip to Vancouver.
1: Monthly mortgage payment on a house.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
The babysitter's club
The New York Times published an article a few weeks ago, lamenting the demise of law school grad "golden ticket" jobs with big firms. Can I just say that, while the very thought of having a job with a big firm is the motivating force behind many a law student's miserable existence, for me, it sounds utterly unappealing. As in, I'd rather take a nap in the middle of the interstate than take a job with a big firm. But I can't really dispute the fact that even in a recession, first year associates at large firms make (fill in the blank) times as much money as I'm currently making, and sometimes a six figure job does sound like it would be nice. But those six figures come with the requirement that you work 80 hour weeks, sign away your soul, and promise your firstborn to the firm. A first year associate quoted in the aforementioned Times article stated, “If you do the math, you’re making less than a babysitter — not a nanny even, but an actual babysitter in high school.” Suddenly it doesn't sound like the golden ticket holders are really all that lucky. It also got me thinking about how being a lawyer is very much like being a babysitter. Every day, I have to deal with demanding clients who are convinced that their case is the only one I should ever be working on. I recall babysitting small children who were equally convinced that providing for their personal entertainment was my sole purpose for existing on this earth. As a lawyer, I have to clean up the messes people make of their lives. As a babysitter, you have to clean up the messes kids make of...pretty much everything they touch. As a lawyer, I have to put my best face forward, even when that means feigning civility when a client is going off on a rampage about something I did or didn't do. As a babysitter, tying up a tantruming kid and throwing him in a closet is always a temptation, but you know you'd never get away with it, so you fake nice until they stop screaming. For lawyers, the hours are long and the job is often thankless; at least if you're babysitting on a Friday night, you can help yourself to the fridge and the television. And at the end of the day, when you break it down to an hourly wage, for all those hours you toil, for all that fancy education you have, for all your lofty ambitions of helping people navigate the complicated legal system, you're really just playing babysitter, with compensation to match.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission
A lengthy (and in some parts, extreme), but thought-provoking discourse on the trajectory of politics and law...
By Chris Hedges, TruthDig – 24 Jan 2010 www.truthdig.com/report/item/democracy_in_america_is_a_useful_fiction_20100124/
Corporate forces, long before the Supreme Court’s decision in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, carried out a coup d’état in slow motion. The coup is over. We lost. The ruling is one more judicial effort to streamline mechanisms for corporate control. It exposes the myth of a functioning democracy and the triumph of corporate power. But it does not significantly alter the political landscape. The corporate state is firmly cemented in place.The fiction of democracy remains useful, not only for corporations, but for our bankrupt liberal class. If the fiction is seriously challenged, liberals will be forced to consider actual resistance, which will be neither pleasant nor easy. As long as a democratic facade exists, liberals can engage in an empty moral posturing that requires little sacrifice or commitment. They can be the self-appointed scolds of the Democratic Party, acting as if they are part of the debate and feel vindicated by their cries of protest.Much of the outrage expressed about the court’s ruling is the outrage of those who prefer this choreographed charade. As long as the charade is played, they do not have to consider how to combat what the political philosopher Sheldon Wolin calls our system of “inverted totalitarianism.”Inverted totalitarianism represents “the political coming of age of corporate power and the political demobilization of the citizenry,” Wolin writes in “Democracy Incorporated.” Inverted totalitarianism differs from classical forms of totalitarianism, which revolve around a demagogue or charismatic leader, and finds its expression in the anonymity of the corporate state. The corporate forces behind inverted totalitarianism do not, as classical totalitarian movements do, boast of replacing decaying structures with a new, revolutionary structure. They purport to honor electoral politics, freedom and the Constitution. But they so corrupt and manipulate the levers of power as to make democracy impossible.Inverted totalitarianism is not conceptualized as an ideology or objectified in public policy. It is furthered by “power-holders and citizens who often seem unaware of the deeper consequences of their actions or inactions,” Wolin writes. But it is as dangerous as classical forms of totalitarianism. In a system of inverted totalitarianism, as this court ruling illustrates, it is not necessary to rewrite the Constitution, as fascist and communist regimes do. It is enough to exploit legitimate power by means of judicial and legislative interpretation. This exploitation ensures that huge corporate campaign contributions are protected speech under the First Amendment. It ensures that heavily financed and organized lobbying by large corporations is interpreted as an application of the people’s right to petition the government. The court again ratified the concept that corporations are persons, except in those cases where the “persons” agree to a “settlement.” Those within corporations who commit crimes can avoid going to prison by paying large sums of money to the government while, according to this twisted judicial reasoning, not “admitting any wrongdoing.” There is a word for this. It is called corruption.Corporations have 35,000 lobbyists in Washington and thousands more in state capitals that dole out corporate money to shape and write legislation. They use their political action committees to solicit employees and shareholders for donations to fund pliable candidates. The financial sector, for example, spent more than $5 billion on political campaigns, influence peddling and lobbying during the past decade, which resulted in sweeping deregulation, the gouging of consumers, our global financial meltdown and the subsequent looting of the U.S. Treasury. The Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America spent $26 million last year and drug companies such as Pfizer, Amgen and Eli Lilly kicked in tens of millions more to buy off the two parties. These corporations have made sure our so-called health reform bill will force us to buy their predatory and defective products. The oil and gas industry, the coal industry, defense contractors and telecommunications companies have thwarted the drive for sustainable energy and orchestrated the steady erosion of civil liberties. Politicians do corporate bidding and stage hollow acts of political theater to keep the fiction of the democratic state alive.There is no national institution left that can accurately be described as democratic. Citizens, rather than participate in power, are allowed to have virtual opinions to preordained questions, a kind of participatory fascism as meaningless as voting on “American Idol.” Mass emotions are directed toward the raging culture wars. This allows us to take emotional stands on issues that are inconsequential to the power elite.Our transformation into an empire, as happened in ancient Athens and Rome, has seen the tyranny we practice abroad become the tyranny we practice at home. We, like all empires, have been eviscerated by our own expansionism. We utilize weapons of horrific destructive power, subsidize their development with billions in taxpayer dollars, and are the world’s largest arms dealer. And the Constitution, as Wolin notes, is “conscripted to serve as power’s apprentice rather than its conscience.”“Inverted totalitarianism reverses things,” Wolin writes. “It is politics all of the time but a politics largely untempered by the political. Party squabbles are occasionally on public display, and there is a frantic and continuous politics among factions of the party, interest groups, competing corporate powers, and rival media concerns. And there is, of course, the culminating moment of national elections when the attention of the nation is required to make a choice of personalities rather than a choice between alternatives. What is absent is the political, the commitment to finding where the common good lies amidst the welter of well-financed, highly organized, single-minded interests rabidly seeking governmental favors and overwhelming the practices of representative government and public administration by a sea of cash.”Hollywood, the news industry and television, all corporate controlled, have become instruments of inverted totalitarianism. They censor or ridicule those who critique or challenge corporate structures and assumptions. They saturate the airwaves with manufactured controversy, whether it is Tiger Woods or the dispute between Jay Leno and Conan O’Brien. They manipulate images to make us confuse how we are made to feel with knowledge, which is how Barack Obama became president. And the draconian internal control employed by the Department of Homeland Security, the military and the police over any form of popular dissent, coupled with the corporate media’s censorship, does for inverted totalitarianism what thugs and bonfires of books do in classical totalitarian regimes.“It seems a replay of historical experience that the bias displayed by today’s media should be aimed consistently at the shredded remains of liberalism,” Wolin writes. “Recall that an element common to most 20th century totalitarianism, whether Fascist or Stalinist, was hostility towards the left. In the United States, the left is assumed to consist solely of liberals, occasionally of ‘the left wing of the Democratic Party,’ never of democrats.”Liberals, socialists, trade unionists, independent journalists and intellectuals, many of whom were once important voices in our society, have been silenced or targeted for elimination within corporate-controlled academia, the media and government. Wolin, who taught at Berkeley and later at Princeton, is arguably the country’s foremost political philosopher. And yet his book was virtually ignored. This is also why Ralph Nader, Dennis Kucinich and Cynthia McKinney, along with intellectuals like Noam Chomsky, are not given a part in our national discourse.The uniformity of opinion is reinforced by the skillfully orchestrated mass emotions of nationalism and patriotism, which paints all dissidents as “soft” or “unpatriotic.” The “patriotic” citizen, plagued by fear of job losses and possible terrorist attacks, unfailingly supports widespread surveillance and the militarized state. This means no questioning of the $1 trillion in defense-related spending. It means that the military and intelligence agencies are held above government, as if somehow they are not part of government. The most powerful instruments of state power and control are effectively removed from public discussion. We, as imperial citizens, are taught to be contemptuous of government bureaucracy, yet we stand like sheep before Homeland Security agents in airports and are mute when Congress permits our private correspondence and conversations to be monitored and archived. We endure more state control than at any time in American history.The civic, patriotic and political language we use to describe ourselves remains unchanged. We pay fealty to the same national symbols and iconography. We find our collective identity in the same national myths. We continue to deify the Founding Fathers. But the America we celebrate is an illusion. It does not exist. Our government and judiciary have no real sovereignty. Our press provides diversion, not information. Our organs of security and power keep us as domesticated and as fearful as most Iraqis. Capitalism, as Karl Marx understood, when it emasculates government, becomes a revolutionary force. And this revolutionary force, best described as inverted totalitarianism, is plunging us into a state of neo-feudalism, perpetual war and severe repression. The Supreme Court decision is part of our transformation by the corporate state from citizens to prisoners.
Chris Hedges, a Pulitzer Prize-winning correspondent, writes a column published every Monday on Truthdig. His latest book is “Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle.”
Saturday, January 9, 2010
You complete me
I'm in love! I'm in love! And I don't care who knows it! Yesterday the newest member of our family arrived and already I find myself wondering how we ever got along without him. Allow me to provide some context. There are few things in this world that make me happier than having a clean house. I am definitely a ridiculously huge neat freak, but I also have a full time job, so when I come home at the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is pick up a second shift as a maid in my own house. The pay for that job is worse than terrible. Therein lies my dilemma. Vacuuming the floors is the quickest way to get the house looking presentable, but at the same time, vacuuming leaves me annoyed and bitter because it is such a waste of my already scarce time. However, the alternative is living with dirty floors, and that is not acceptable either. So this year for Christmas, Scott and I decided to pool the money we received from my grandma (who rocks, by the way), and invest in a little something to make our collective life easier. After some serious shopping around, the all important purchase was made and seven days later, Sonny made his debut at our house. I didn't even have to show him around; I just set him in the living room and he knew exactly what to do. I was a little nervous to leave him alone, so for a little while, I supervised. It was actually quite fascinating to watch him, roaming around in a seemingly aimless manner, blasting dust bunnies and teasing dirt out of long neglected corners. He passed from carpet to tile with ease, and not once did he get stuck on the area rugs. He looped around table legs and swirled by baseboards. While he was busily tidying up the floor, I was free to use my time to do other, more important things, like go to the gym, or as the case was yesterday, watch the Daily Show and check Facebook. After an hour of meandering through each room in our apartment, Sonny strolled right on up to his charging station without any prodding on my part, and settled in to recharge his battery. After a quick quality control inspection, I was oh so happy to discover that our floors have never been so clean (as evidenced by the easy to empty, but shockingly disgusting dirt receptacle). The solution to the clean house conundrum has arrived, and it is awesome. Where, oh where have you been all my life?
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Now what?
As one year has given way to another, not too many people were terribly broken up about the passing of 2009. After all, it was a year marred with dismal economic news, all too familiar political bickering, terrorist scares, and a general sense of malaise permeated the country. But I was extremely sad to see 2009 end, mostly because, for me, 2010 is little more than a giant question mark. There are no more academic milestones on the horizon, no major hurdles to overcome, no "next big thing." Looking back at a post from one year ago, it's obvious that there was so very much going on in 2009, all of it amazing. Law school graduation, check. Passing the bar exam, check. Getting licensed to practice, check. Living accommodations upgrade, check. Europe trip, check. Not going back to school in September, double check. Moving? Yes. New car? Absolutely. I'm starting to worry that I crammed too much awesomeness into the past year, if that is even possible. In this season of resolution making, I've been thinking a lot lately about my 5 year plan. It doesn't really exist anymore because I did everything on the list, but somehow neglected to update it as I went. So here and now, new five year plan. In the next five years I will be out of private practice and back in public service. I will be out of student debt. I will own a home. And I will to go back to the east coast, even if it's just for a visit. That's the big picture. Little picture goals include more time spent studying Spanish, continuing to stay in shape, more reading for fun, and more diligence in journal keeping. Things have been amazing up to this point, and 2010 is my blank slate. Bring on the new year!
