No, I Don't Speak German.

Ich hat 8 jahre in Deustchland gewohnen. Warum spreche ich Deutsch nicht? Scheiße!!!

This blog is a space where I've given myself permission to express my thoughts as they come to me without the pressure to clean them up, or translate them for anyone's benefit; just my naked thinking showing up as text on screen. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes poignant, sometimes absurd; kinda like me.

Three things you need to keep in mind as you read my posts:

1.) I have extremely sexy eyebrows.
2.) I didn't handpick all of those videos to the right. I love Adam Curtis, and this was my YouTube compromise.
3.) I like semicolons; I think they're fun!

Friday, January 30, 2009

I'm Not Jewish Anymore!!!

Thanks Belief-o-Matic!

This test was all the rage when I was in seminary; at least for a couple of months. I remember taking it and thinking meticulously through each question and what it really meant to respond to answers about the nature of god, divinity, humanity, and creation. Painstaking consideration went into every answer. The result: 100% Reform Judaism.

WHAT!?!? Uhm- I'm clergy. I don't think you get any more Christian than that belief-o-matic! But, at the same time I felt some strange sense of pride in my results. Who knows why? But, something about having realized that you could fully remove Jesus from the equation and my faith wouldn't be impacted just a few weeks prior to taking the quiz may have had something to do with it.

I woke up in bed with some woman, and I was uncomfortable, so we talked theology. (Seminarians are quirky...) So, at some point the conversation turned to our personal theologies, and why we still maintained our Christianity. It was a long chat, but I remember telling her that I could be fully convinced that this whole Jesus thing was a hoax, we could find definitive evidence that some guys got drunk a few centuries ago and decided to pull a prank that just got out of hand. The Jesus thing, big joke. My faith would remain unchanged.

Admittedly, by that point I had spent so many class hours discovering historical-critical redaction tools, ensuring that whatever I read I did my best to read it in context, that the Jesus I came in with had been so thoroughly demystified and recontextualized that it would be fair to say that Jesus had already been removed from my Christianity. So, that may be why I felt a sense of pride in my results. What's Christianity when you remove Jesus? Judaism. (kinda) I mean, we are just an overgrown sect of Judaism.

In any case, I retook the test a few times to get different results, kept coming up Jew. I laughed about it, asked some friends to come with me to the gay synagogue, and went on with my life.

A few years out of seminary, I retook the test, and came up as a mainline Protestant. OMG!! NOOOOoooooooo!!!!!!! Retook it a couple of times, and kept the same result. I felt so, I don't know... reabsorbed? And went on with my life. I don't think my religious views are mainline Protestant, but whatever.

So, today as I sat on my couch procrastinating I decided to check in with belief-o-matic. Where do I land these days, o magic 8-ball of faith interpretation. UU. Huh. You know, I think I am. Not the crunchy granola new agey, hippy-dippy, UU. Uhm, I'm a bit too pretentious for THAT bullshit! But, the "everyone must find their own path, whether that be straight, winding, organized, or clearly self-directed" kind of UU that has respect for a wide range of religious/spiritual experiences. Yeah, I think I'm a UU. I like how diverse UU is, and people with so many faith backgrounds, past and present, sit next to each other in a community of faith.

It's always been really important to me that my children were exposed to a wide range of faith experiences so that they could understand how to construct what they needed from religion. I guess if I went to a UU church, they could learn and do that while developing bonds and meaningful relationships.

UU huh? Yeah, for the first time, I think that's me. (Plus they're good with the queers.)

1. Unitarian Universalism (100%)
2. Neo-Pagan (94%)
3. Reform Judaism (89%)
4. Liberal Quakers (85%)
5. New Age (83%)
6. Mahayana Buddhism (81%)
7. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (81%)
8. Scientology (79%)
9. New Thought (77%)
10. Theravada Buddhism (76%)

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Chocolate Chex

Smells like toe-funk, tastes like chocolate. Well, "smells like toe-funk, and it turns your milk brown, too!" is probably a more honest descriptor.

Just opened up a box for some sugary breakfast, and thought that it smelled like toe funk..

I'm eating it right now.

Friday, January 16, 2009

I'm Getting Married!!

Probably not soon, but who knows? That depends on circumstances that I have decided to relinquish and give over to the universe.

Remember Cinderella? Ok, I don't. I mean, I think I do, but I'm fairly certain that I have something wrong. So, remember when Cinderella lost her glass slipper, and she put out the ad that said she would marry whoever could bring it to her, and the prince showed up...

Ahh... okay, no- it was princey. The prince was all mesmerized with the masked woman, and HE put out the add that he would marry whoever could fit into the glass slipper. Yeah, that makes more sense. Why would some pauper-girl be all, "Yes, yes, yes, I am prepared to marry you, but here's the contest." No haps

Maybe I remembered it that way because I feel more like Cinerella than a dashing prince at the moment. In any case- I'm getting married. And the premise is just as absured as "the first woman who shows up with a size 6.5

So, I remembered last night that I am a HUGE fan of spumoni. HUGE!! And I was looking at pictures of the delectable delight, when I came across THIS!!!!!

Is that a spumoni truffle? Why yes it is. YES IT IS!!!

The person who can bring me a case of these gets my hand in marriage. (Initially I was just thinking one, but why sell myself short?)

Spumoni truffle!! MMMMmmmmm!!!

I'm still lactose intolerant though. So, the honeymoon may not be as romantic as they'd envisioned.

And, actually now that I think about it. You could probably actually have me for good tiramisu.

And, I've been planning for awhile to have a black forest wedding cake.

Maybe I need to marry a pastry chef? Or someone who appreciates my devotion to flavored multi-textured sugars. (A fat chick?)

Alright, off to the gym, where all the other vain sugar addicts hang out!

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Lesbian Phrases I Hate:

10. Let's stay in and eat out.

9. I'm vegan.

8. Have you seen (insert obscure indie foreign film)?

7. I have a cat.

6. I don't care what anyone says, Tevas still look great!

5. What do you think of my new haircut?

4. I'm torn, should I get a Prius or an Outback?

3. Obama, blah, blah, blah...

2. My roommate (lease), blah, blah, blah... so I think it makes more sense to just move in with you.

1. You know I date men, right?

My Neighbor Rehabs Houses

And I need money. So, while he was jumping my battery for me, I told him that I can help him out from time to time.

"What can you do?"

[uhm...panic! think quick brains!!]

"Oh, I paint and lay tile."

[Nice work brains!!!]

It's true, actually. I have done those things. I've done them rehabbing houses even. I've ripped out and replaced sinks. I've hung doors. Laid down hardwood. I do it all sister.

Well, I did about 10 years ago. A few months ago, I painted my apartment. Uhm- let's just say, my skills have atrophied, and I now remember things like why it's important to wash your brushes completely, AND why it matters if there is "just a little" water left in the sponge.

So- standing outside with my neighbor helping me to bring life back to my dead car, I told him that I'm willing to help him out from time to time.

Note to self: Make sure that he pays me in advance.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Yeah- I Procrastinate. I'll Work On It Later

So- I didn't get much done today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. Or, ... It's been awhile since I've done anything.

I did learn that I need to buy a new car today. I learned that when my car wouldn't start. No big deal if your car won't start. No big whoop.

But, my car started just fine after being parked in the snow for a month; started right up. Sat there for a month, and a 8 inches of ice covered my car from bumper to bumper. And, it started up just fine thank you very much. Today? Today it doesn't start.

So, something strange happened to my trunk. The ice that covered my trunk worked its way into the crack between the car and the part of the trunk that opens. My trunk has 2 inches of daylight between the car and the trunk when it's closed. The seal in perfect near the latch, but the closer you get to the back windshield, the greater this gap grows. So, my trunk doesn't close properly.

I was talking to some folks about it today, and none of them had ever heard of such a thing. I left my car parked in the snow for a month, and now my trunk is broken. Odd.

So, blah, blah, blah, my trunk is hard to close, okay. I took my friend grocery shopping yesterday, and we put his groceries in the trunk. When I got home, I couldn't close my trunk no matter how had I slammed it.

"Okay, I'll just leave it like this and take care of it in the morning."

Funny thing. I get up to move my car (alternate side parking), and it won't start. Nothing. Completely dead. The only light that's on is the yellow icon on my dash indicating that my trunk is open. No way! No WAY! That little light being on all night has killed my battery? No way!

"Fine, I'll close it."

Oh that it were so simple. So, the trunk that I couldn't close, now is frozen closed, and I can't get it open. Pull the latch, use the key, whatever you like- it's not locked, but it will NOT open.

Uhm- grrrrr?

So, I flag down my neighbor, get a jump, and drive around for an hour trying to charge my battery. (I would have just replaced the battery, but any service shops were closed, and I was nervous about driving too far from my house and having a car that may not start.) So, I drive around for an hour, check a few gas stations to buy jumper cables, and come back home. All of this was suppose to be a trip to a coffee shop to get some work done.

I drove to a coffee shop. Sat in the parking lot for a few minutes trying to decide if I thought my car would start when I got out, and decided not to risk it. Drove home, parked on the other side of the street, and turned off my car.

Would it restart? Uhm- not even close.

So, here I sit in my living room, and I think I'm going to buy a new car:

It's due for the $1,200 service.

I need new tires.

I need new windshield wipers.

There's something kinda off with my electrical system-- well, my clock doesn't keep time.

I listen to my music so loud that I've blown out a speaker.

The rear-window defogger actually COLLECTS snow when I drive.

I feel like I'm driving a death trap every time it snows.

The battery for my key is dead.

Oh! There's a hairline crack in my windshield that I'm just waiting to grow now that I have winters.

On the other side, I LOVE MY CAR!!!!! I LOOOOVVVVVEEEEEE MY CARRRRRRRR!!!! It just drives for shit in the winter. She's made for the beaches, not this snow shit! Moon roof and sunroof? Yes! That means swimming and sandpit volleyball.

So- I didn't get much work done today, but I think I'm gonna buy a Saab.

(Also, I learned from watching the History Channel that a "jiffy" is the amount of time that it takes a beam of light to travel the circumference of an electron.)

Friday, January 9, 2009

I'm Becoming One of THOSE People!!

You know, the gross ones! The "nasty-asses" of the world. The ones that you tell stories about, that leave you with a grimace on your face, as everyone around you stands aghast and says,"Eww, why the fuck would anyone DO that!?!?" THAT person is me.

Now, let me tell you. I never intended to be that person. I've been just as grossed out by them as the next person. In fact, I have an incredibly weak stomach, so sometimes these people have made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. These people are gross. They are disgusting. They make me sick-- literally, and I am slowly morphing into one of them. It's disturbing, to say the least.

So-I'm hanging out at a coffee shop.

Hmmm... I think this Ph.d. program has something to do with it. I enjoyed the slow descent into "bum". There's something kinda alluring about neglecting my personal appearance, and not sacrificing anything as a consequence. No "looks" from other people at work. No impact on my self-esteem when people aren't initially responding to me in the way that I'm accustomed to. They ask me what I do, and suddenly all of the judgement in their faces melts away, and I get a "bum-pass."

"Ahh... I was going to clutch my purse with a death-grip, but you're a Ph.D student. Hmmm... let's chat politics."

So- I'm morphing into a person that I don't recognize. But, not just physically. I'm becoming gross. Really fucking gross. Gross doesn't convey the full meaning, because it's become cliche. I'm am kinda disgusting. (At least I feel that way right now.) Here's why:

So, I'm hanging out in a coffee shop. And, I'm feeling a little humiliated. I just took a crap in the bathroom. Yeah, it's the only bathroom here, blah, blah, blah, but that's not why I feel humiliated. Although a few months ago, that would have been more than enough to do it.

So, I went to pee, and HAD to take a crap. Bada-bing! Bada-bang! DONE! And then I realized that what appeared to be toilet paper on the roll was 4 squares. FOUR squares!!!

"Uhm shit!" (literally)

So- now panic sets in. I can't very well, walk out ask for toilet paper, and then head back into the bathroom to finish up. (SHIT!!)

So, I panic a bit more, and realize the longer I stay in the worse this situation becomes (at least in my own mind). Oh, did I mention that I'm at the coffee shop with the barista who always gives me free shit? No more free snickerdoodle cookies, or "hey try this" feels like it's imminent.

OK- so the amplified shame of shitting up the bathroom with the extra-nice barista on the job is running through my mind, when it hits me.

Paper towels are my only option. AY ME!!!

So, I use a couple of paper towels, and I realize that I can't flush it down the toilet... That's right! Garbage can. I just took a shit, wiped myself with paper towels, and then threw them in the garbage.

AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

That's right. Preserved it, for posterity sake.

So, I wash my hands, and realize that as I walk out- there's no toilet paper. I don't want to walk out and ask for more toilet paper after I wiped and threw my shit away in the garbage can!! The barista won't give up the toilet paper- she HAS to go in and change the roll herself. FUCK!

So, I walk out, and can't decide how long to wait before I tell her that I used up all the toilet paper. 5 minutes? "Oh! I just remembered..." after 10 minutes?

So, as I sat here writing, someone else came in and went to use the bathroom, and of course noticed that there was no toilet paper. And of course the super nice barista went in to change it- even though the woman protested. And, of course thought whatever thought you think when someone takes a shit, but doesn't tell you that they used up all the toilet paper.

"What the fuck?"

So, now, hours from now, when she has to take out the garbage, and it wreaks of shit when she gathers the sides of the bag, she will know that it was me.

"Why on earth would someone DO that!?!"

Today that someone is me.

Actually, she probably won't even notice. My shit smells refreshing, like beets. It is still completely embarrassing though. What has become of me?

Now I have to find somewhere else to have coffee.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Uhm...

I don't want to read a book with moldy pages.

I don't even want to touch it!

Won't I die from inhaling the spores or something? I think I saw that on the Discovery Channel.

My Weekend:

This needs to be recorded somewhere so that I can look back years from now and, with help, piece together where my sanity went.

So, this weekend? I went to a conference. Perhaps better said, I decided not to go to a conference because I had pressing deadlines that I may not meet, so I decided to stay. Then was told that the demands on my time would be reduced to accommodate my needs, so with an hour's notice I came home packed up my shit (by "shit" I mean most, but certainly not all of what I needed for weekend. Small things like a change of clothes escaped me... I had two pairs of pants though!) and hoped in a car to ride out for 5 hours.

Now, riding in a car for five hours isn't really a big deal, because you can just read the whole way there, so no time lost, right? Guess who suddenly developed reading-specific car sickness? WTF?!? Now? Really? Now? -sigh-

So, then I went to the conference, learned that there were still some expectations on my time that I didn't realize, including a "quick" dinner that stretched into 4 hours...

So, I managed to read and review 6 articles, write 15 pages of a paper, and I still have the energy to scan the 200 pages that we're discussing in seminar tomorrow morning (I managed to leave that book at home!)

Oh, and that book, the one on the chair next to me. I thought I would save money by checking it out from the library rather than buying it. Apparently, it has seen so little circulation over the last 50 years that it has mold growing up its pages.

Sometimes, all you can do is laugh.

Life is good.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Things I Learned in College (or at the University?)

1.) Women in the sciences have small breasts. I don't know why it is, I just know that it is. Women in the sciences that require them to do math and work with equations all day long- small breasts. I think it's a developmental capacity problem. During during pubescent stages, our pituitary gland can either funnel breast fat production, or the complex neural networks required for higher order math computations. I do not fully understand the causal relationship, I just know that women in the sciences have small breasts. Every now and again you may see an undergrad with large breasts. She won't last.

2.) If you go to a college on a hill, all of the women on campus will have enormous and well defined thighs. I thought I was a badass by riding a bike up a hill. Nope. The requirements of having to walk up and down hills to get across campus makes these women all look like the 4x1 alternates for the Olympics.

3.) Women who wear Tevas have low self-esteem. Again, I don't know the causal link here; can't tell you why. But, in 2008, any woman walking around with Teva sandals on is telling you that she feels bad about herself on the inside, especially if they are so worn along the heels that the shoe leans. The lesby-savvy woman may have moved on to some variant of Keen or Merrel, but a woman walking around today in Tevas. Low self-esteem. All of them.

Now that that's settled, hopefully I can get something done on this fucking paper!!

Thanks Amazon, I Think.

I just got an e-mail from Amazon. I didn't realize that they did that.

They had some recommendations for me.

and a book on economics.

OMG! You're worse than my dad, Amazon! I'll dress better and figure out how to make money. Christ!

Black Republicans

I'm not one. But, I was amused by how many I saw during Palin's speech. Well, I saw one. But, I saw him over and over again! Then at the end I saw the other one in the dome. I was most amused by the Black man who was all geeked up over the country music entertainment that followed her speech.

More could be said, but it's the same old same old.

(I think that she looks a little like Tina Fey.)

7 Glorious Days!

I'm no fan of alternate side parking. No fan! As a student living on 5 figures (it's in the teens, but it's a solid 5), I prefer to drive as little as possible. For now, I like to ride my bike; later it will have to be public trans.

What that means though is that I'm tied to my car, as though it's a weight around my neck. Every day at 6pm I need to move my car from one side of the street to the other. Even days of the week you park on the east side of the street, and odd days you park on the west side. You certainly don't have to move your car, you can just pay the tickets and pick your car up from the impound lot.

But, for seven days, seven glorious days, I don't have to dance this dance. Seven days during the year; those months with 31 days I don't have to rush home and move my car!! As the 31st becomes the 1st we have an odd day becoming another odd day. Thank you, Ashref!

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Southern

You can't be serious. Are you serious? Are you using "Southern" pejoratively, as though it were a slur? Are you serious? You have disdain for Southerners? REALLY?

That is so absurd. Why? Why do people think Southerners are... whatever the hell they think we are? No one yet has said what it is; the source and nature of the frustration is implied through the sardonic tone. I mean "Southern" is dripping with disdain as it rolls off the lips of folks up here. It's quite curious. There is no need to elaborate, or to specify what the nature of your frustration is; your listener simply infers exactly what you mean by saying Southern.

"I'm so frustrated with my insurance company. I called in about a claim, and I had to deal with this Southern woman!"

"Ugh!"

What the fuck are you people talking about? I'm serious, not indignant. What the fuck are you talking about? Are you thinking that Southerners are dumb? Do we speak with an accent that is hard to understand? Do we appear uninterested in moving with the efficiency that you want when you want your problems resolved the way you want them resolved, particularly when you're frustrated?

So, was this call center worker unable to solve your complex problem, and only capable of giving you scripted responses? What does being Southern have to do with anything? I'm not being pedantic, I really don't get it.

I mean, that may be because I'm a Southerner, but not because Southerners are dumb, but because this is a new experience to live somewhere that disdain for the South permeates the culture. It's brand new to live with this. It's a real oddity. And, when I tell people that I'm Southern, perhaps with my nondescript atypical "Southern" accent, they expect me to accept an invitation to disparage the South.

It's the craziest shit!

So, being reasonable, and "fair" with their prejudice:

What is there to dislike about the South? Racial prejudice? Oooh, honeychile! Folks above the Mason-Dixon line have NOT figured out racism. They are just as constrained by white guilt, blackaphobia, and a willingness to economically and legislatively segregate people of color. White folks in America are comfortable with some really heinous racist shit. The South has no monopoly on the absurdities of interpersonal and institutional racism. So, that's kinda dumb.

I don't think that Southerners are dumb. But, moreover, I don't think that Northerners are impressively intelligent. We're all about the same; kinda average. So, that's not it.

My best guess is that the disdain stems from the cultural distinctions that arise from an agrarian-based society versus and industry-based society, accumulated over generations of time and progress. We are culturally distinct. I think the agrarian basis of Southern life, as well as the oppressive heat that meant a pace of life that enabled you to slow down enough to notice and connect with other human beings- simply because it's good to slow down and connect with other human beings, has meant that Southerners have been able to hold onto our humanity in a way that industrialization and efficiency/productivity have droned out of Northerners.

We have porches!! We sit on them and expect other people to pass time with us. We say "hello" to people, even as we drive by in our cars. They may be people that we've never seen in our neighborhood before. The response is the same, slow down the car slightly and wave hello.

What is there to dislike about Southerners? Oh! Also, I've learned that many folks up here have never been to the South. Are you serious!?! Yeah- never been there.

So, what you know of the South is from the rehearsal of prejudice, and what you see on TV? It's like living in Germany and asking young people why they had prejudices against African-Americans.

"They're violent."

"What makes you think we are violent?"

"Boyz in the Hood."

"This is not a conversation worth having..."

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Am I Adopted?

I have just decided that I am addicted to banana peppers and feta cheese. Banana peppers I've snacked on for a long time, but feta? I haven't had need to have it in my house until this week. I NEED feta! I think it goes well with anything:

Boca Burger
Chicken Patty
Omelet
Sausage & Peppers
Chicken Salads
Soups

The list goes on ad infinitum! No one in my family likes either banana peppers or feta cheese. Makes me wonder if I'm adopted. I know that when we are fetuses en utero (in utero?) that we can taste the spices and seasonings of the foods that our mothers eat. One of the postulated benefits to this is that we develop a preference for the foods that our mother's eat (or those in the environment in which we will most likely live) before we are even born.

No one even in my extended family likes these staples of good eatery. I think I may be adopted.

Now, I possess the capacity to go on and build the strength of this argument, and move it into something that may even be plausible. However, I realize that at it's heart arguing that I may be adopted because of my addiction to foods that the rest of my family doesn't eat is just about as plausible as, "Nobody else in my family seems to be a crack fiend... Hmm... You think I'm adopted?"

Mostly though, I'm just procrastinating, and taking a break from the grueling rigors of shit I don't want to read.

Back at it!!

I'm Insured!!!!

I got health insurance today!!!

Ooo yeah! ooOH yeah!

Now I can finally go to the doctor to make sure that I'm not dying of cancer. I don't think I am. i mean, I don't feel at all cancery, but I've got a "rapid proliferation of cells" that's got me nervous. I learned that phrase in Freshman biology; it makes cancer so much more discussable.

"We'll ma'am, you have some fast-growing cells... well, also, they may kill you."

I really hope that once I go to the doctor and find out that I'm not dying in 6-8 months that I'll be able to sleep better at night. Cuz uhm- these school demands are already kinda kicking my ass.

Wondering if you're dying must certainly take its toll on your energy and attention reserves, no?

Well, back to learning about the limitations inherent in public education systems...

Monday, September 1, 2008

Sometimes I Think I Feel Lonely

And, I may in fact be lonely from time to time. But, this loneliness is new. I woke up this morning and felt utterly alone, as though I hadn't seen people in weeks; holed up in some office reading papers and writing my responses to them for class discussions.

But, the reality is that I have seen people. And, not just in my classes either. In the last two weeks, I've gone out dancing 4 times (with different groups of people each time). I've gone to three different BBQ's. I had dinner with a couple of people. In fact, I missed a dinner because i was studying and forgot about the time, so without my phone- I no showed. And, I've turned down several coffee invitations, a couple of offers for meals, and I've met a ton of people that I like. I even went to a street festival and met a woman that I thought was attractive.

So, I'm not devoid of human contact, not even purely social contact. I'm surprised by just how easy it has been to meet and connect with people; even "important" people. But, sometimes I get this abyss of loneliness that engulfs my heart; it's a desperation to be with and around people.

I realized just now that it's not actually loneliness, it's the expectation of loneliness. I have a TON of reading to do, and the one word that I have heard more than "the" is "isolation" in characterizing the graduate experience. Ph.D. students are isolated!!!

So, when I'm faced with a mound of reading that I don't want to tear into, like someone's thinking about someone else's perspectives, on some other guy's criticism, of an interpretation of a philosophy from 1652, as that impacts some social construction in 1852- uhm YAWN!

So, a pit of despair surfaces as though it actually characterizes my existence. It doesn't. But when it surfaces, I take on the expectation that this is what graduate school is like, and from this moment forward I will be totally and utterly alone. The reality is that I just met 5 or 6 people today that I'm excited about getting to know better, including a pretentious med student who is gonna be my roller blading buddy. The fact is that I'm not lonely. I just don't want to read this shit.

Well, back to it...

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Satisficing not Optimizing

I like it.

I have one more class to select for this term. I've been agonizing over this decision; I suppose in the same way I agonized over ...

Wait a minute! Joe Biden???

He selected Joe Biden!!!

What the fuck?

Hmmm... I've got a few things to think about.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Blogette VIII

Let's say you go to church, and they're giving out ice cream and fudgesicles:

You're still lactose intolerant.

When am I gonna learn?

My stomach...

Thursday, August 21, 2008

I Used To Want To Be A Lawyer.

In fact, it's the earliest career that I recall having my heart fixed upon. For years I wanted to be a lawyer. From second or third grade I was fairly committed to being a lawyer. Then, all of a sudden one day I came home as a fifth grader and told my parents that I didn't want to be a lawyer anymore.

My dad took it kinda hard. In fact, from time to time he still reminds me of the days when I wanted to be a lawyer, and asks me what happened.

"Remember the good old days when you would have been done with school by now, and most assuredly would have been gainfully employed and out of my pocket? Remember those days? What happened to those days back in 1984?"

He doesn't actually say that, but that's what I hear. He says, with a light and wistful tone, almost as if he were prompting a flash-back sequence on a made-for-tv-movie, "Remember when you wanted to be a lawyer... [eyes glaze]...What ever happened to that?"

I've stopped telling him, and I just say "I don't know" these days. But, the truth of the matter is that I finally got to talk to an honest to goodness lawyer, and ask him questions about what his workday really was like. And, he answered me honestly when I asked him questions about scruples and ethics when they came into conflict with client obligations, and how that impacted job security/job satisfaction.

I didn't want a job where I would have to argue in support of things I didn't agree with, even if it was only from time to time; just felt like too high of a price to pay. And, the more I talked to him the more it became clear to me that there didn't seem to be a way to structure my career to circumvent these moral crises. The pay didn't seem worth it. I didn't want to be a lawyer anymore.

Oddly, from that day to this, I've always had people in my life who have been convinced that I would make a great lawyer, and have attempted to persuade me to "at least consider" law. I'm old enough to be jaded at this point, and I'm far from an idealist, but today I don't want to be a lawyer because I don't like conflict, I don't like breaking down other people, I don't like calling upon my abilities to be a disruptive and dominating force in order to conquer my opponent.

I think I ascribe to practices of intellectual non-violence. Huh. I guess that's where non-violence landed...

Anyway, it's been years since I've made the decision to dominate and conquer someone else's thinking in order to create room for myself. I don't like how it feels to "defeat" someone.

But, from time to time I think about law school; typically after someone has fucked me over, and I wish I were better positioned to defend myself.

Yesterday I got a call from my new dentist's office manager. She informed me that the $40 I paid to have a tooth fixed was charged incorrectly, and I now am responsible for an additional $279. At the end of a very heated discussion, she left me with the options to pay it or have it sit on my credit.

You BITCH!!

In that moment I wished to God that I was a lawyer. But, then I found a lawyer who would represent on this menial bullshit. At the end of our meeting I realized that I have absolutely NO interest in the practice of law. The shit is so unappealing across a spectrum of absurdities (Uhm... ACLU!)

I don't want to be a lawyer. I want to have a lawyer, especially when people run bullshit on me.

It was a wonderful revelation to finally understand that I don't actually want to take care of the shit myself when I'm mistreated, and learn all aspects of the law in order to protect myself and my loved ones; hawkishly protect us. Nah! I just want enough money to pay someone who specializes in that shit so that I can live the life I want to live, and not be disrupted because of someone else's stupidity.

The downside to this liberative realization, however, is that I know way down deep in the recesses of my memory that I never wanted to go to school. I never wanted to go to college; at least not when I went. Graduate school? Not really. Meh.

All of this shit is because I'm convinced that the world needs to be better for me and people like me. So, where can I contribute to creating the resources and support that I would have needed? It's not how I think about it, but my actions are thoroughly rooted in "being the change I want to see in the world". "We are the ones we've been waiting for." Inside my mind it sounds far more pessimistic, like "If I don't do it, no one will," or, "No one else gives a shit," or, "No one else can (wants to) do it, so I guess I have to." You know, shit like that.

I don't actually want to be an academic with 30 years of schooling under my belt. (I SO wish that number were a hyperbole!) If the world were safe for and supportive of little black girls, I don't know that I ever would have applied to anyone's graduate program.

I would have been a professional soccer player. I would travel around the country on a bus with 30 other women who love sport and athleticism, and give each other shit, and revel in camaraderie and the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. And at least once in my life, at least once, I would score a goal with a bicycle kick! At the end of the day you go to sleep and you start over again.

Why am I getting a Ph.D? Because the world is too fucked up for me to be a professional soccer player. Any questions?

Would I have made it? Yeah, I was damn good!!