Last week I had an appointment to go back to the hand surgeon to find out whether I'll ever be a hand model again. This appointment was to begin at 7:30AM. Naturally, I slept through the violent vibrations and honking of my phone's alarm until exactly 7:27. By 7:28 I had pulled on warm clothes and was making a mad-dash out the front door while screaming a few Mormon censored obscenities (wink wink). Unfortunately I had a text book that I needed to run to a friend before my appointment. At 7:29 I pulled up to the building she was in, ran in, threw the book at her and got back into my car (which was rolling backwards when I came back outside) and pulled away while my phone still said 7:29. Fortunately on my way to the clinic I hit only green, yellow, and recently yellow lights so I didn't have to stop (no worries--I checked the news that night and made sure there were no pedestrian hit-and-runs in Provo that day). Made it to the clinic and ran up the stairs and down the hall and to the receptionist. I pulled my phone out to check the time and I could not believe it. It was 7:32. I'm actually very serious. No exaggeration this time. I somehow made it to my appointment exactly five minutes after waking up in bed AND managed to run an errand on the way. I don't know how this happened and I don't know whether I'll ever be able to recreate it. But it turns out that when I'm in an absolute daze and a really big hurry, I can get a whole lot done in very little time. It is for this reason that I wish dazed-and-confused-Eli would teach a whole series of lessons to alert-and-ridiculously-distracted-daytime-Eli who spent 14 hours at school today but feels like he accomplished about 4 hours of work.
And by way of update: I seem to be getting healthy again despite the terrifying polluted air conditions that my apathetic friends don't seem to be taking nearly as seriously as they should. I've felt like Noah for much of this week, warning the world about the dangers of breathing air you can actually taste (and the taste is shockingly not that good. Sort of tastes like a running car that drove into Utah Lake).
Well I'm off to bed--big day tomorrow: we have our first full run-through of our trial advocacy case in front of a couple of federal court judges at a court in Salt Lake. This is for a competition in DC next week that I'll be going to if I don't die of black lung first. Fingers crossed.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Friday, January 15, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
2009
It's that time of year again when I really start thinking about what's happened in the last 12 months. How have I changed? What has made this year different? Was this year my best yet, as it always should be?
2009 was a hard year for me. Probably my hardest actually. Probably my most exciting too. Definitely my most life-changing. I can't believe how much I've been able to experience in such a short time. Some of it was really good. Some of it, not so good. But all of it is responsible for making me a different person than I was last December; all of it is responsible for making me a person that I like much more than I liked the person in my shoes last December.
In 2009 I left my bank job that I loved so much. I fell in love with school. I tried ten new flavors of vafly. I got a parasite. I made new life-long friends. I lost some friends that I thought were going to be life-long. I felt how hard it was to see people leave. I felt how great it was to see them unexpectedly come back. I went to a Russian banya. I learned about religious freedom. I competed in several gruelling legal competitions. I saw our nation's capital. I got swine flu. I broke my hand. Had some surgery too. I lost 18 pounds in six weeks. I finished a year and a half of law school. I applied to a thousand firms. I accepted zero jobs. I lost a great grandma. I learned how to party. I grew my hair. I started wearing ties more often. I learned how to parallel park. I visited 10,000 Russian Orthodox Church services. I bought an icon. I fainted twice. I saw my Ukrainian friends that I've missed for five years. I cried my eyes out at the train station when I had to say goodbye. I helped teach a contracts class. I started taking sleeping pills. I sort of started sleeping. I finally learned about the federal income tax system. I fell in love with Moscow. I got a tan and retained it for four whole weeks. I moved twice. I learned more about how strong my family is. I only ran two road races, but did better than expected in both. I was gifted a build-a-bear by a crazy person. I went through four phones. I learned a few new songs on the guitar. I forgot most of them. I bought a Wally Lamb book at an airport and didn't get past the third chapter. I got to know the US embassy in Moscow. I ate about forty gallons of borshch. I saw the Hermitage. I saw Lenin. I bought art from a guy underground in the middle of the night. I learned how to make cookie-fruit-salad. I lived at the law building. I got Adeno virus. I fell in love with Promethazine. I fell out of love with Lortab. I stopped caring about things that don't matter. I started the walk-America campaign and held to it for two straight months. I switched from only hating one political party to hating two political parties. I got only slightly closer to finishing Crime and Punishment. I visited an orphanage. I decorated for Halloween. I fought a couple of battles. I won them at a cost. I didn't regret it. I had dinner overlooking an ocean. I lost a flip-flop in the snow. I accidentally ran 13 miles with a friend. I emailed strangers thousands of miles away to beg them to let me come live with them. I slept on a communal train with my bag tied around my body. I drank out of a river. I got rescued by a Tajikistanian in a beat up Lada. I learned how to schedule three meetings at once, several times a day, without missing anything. I ate broccoli soup in the middle of the night in a new cafe. I gave a couch away. I had a sleepover with my six year old niece. We ate broccoli and ice cream. Vintage. I played spoons in a pool. I played what time is it Mr. Fox with some cute kids in their backyard. I ran in the mountains. I started eating chocolate a little bit. I took a wagon ride on Halloween. I was grossed out by a water park. I accidentally carried pepper spray onto a tiny plane. I became obsessed with a tv show about high school football. I almost ate a stuffed green pepper that looked like puke. I bought four dollar sunglasses and lost them in the ocean 24 hours later. I bought replacement sunglasses for five dollars that don't seem quite as good. I lost my voice because of pollution. I watched the movie "Taken" on the floor of an abandoned corner in a German airport. I learned how to Salsa dance. I edited a treatise. I took naps on the grass. I enjoyed life.
I'm not really sure what's going to happen in 2010. We never really know; and that unsurity for some reason seems to be much more obvious during this time of year, forging a tighter bond yet highlighting the difference between our future hopes and growing nostalgia for the past. I always find myself trying to balance my thoughts between that nostalgia and a focus on the future. It won't do much good to continue to obsess over things that came and went. But it would seem like a total waste to just ignore all the laughs and drama simply because their fifteen minutes are up. I guess as long as we figure out how to take the lessons from the past and use those as a part of the process of molding our future hopes, the nostalgia is justified and should even be encouraged. In any event, blogging world, I hope the lessons of 2009 help 2010 just get stranger for you all~
2009 was a hard year for me. Probably my hardest actually. Probably my most exciting too. Definitely my most life-changing. I can't believe how much I've been able to experience in such a short time. Some of it was really good. Some of it, not so good. But all of it is responsible for making me a different person than I was last December; all of it is responsible for making me a person that I like much more than I liked the person in my shoes last December.
In 2009 I left my bank job that I loved so much. I fell in love with school. I tried ten new flavors of vafly. I got a parasite. I made new life-long friends. I lost some friends that I thought were going to be life-long. I felt how hard it was to see people leave. I felt how great it was to see them unexpectedly come back. I went to a Russian banya. I learned about religious freedom. I competed in several gruelling legal competitions. I saw our nation's capital. I got swine flu. I broke my hand. Had some surgery too. I lost 18 pounds in six weeks. I finished a year and a half of law school. I applied to a thousand firms. I accepted zero jobs. I lost a great grandma. I learned how to party. I grew my hair. I started wearing ties more often. I learned how to parallel park. I visited 10,000 Russian Orthodox Church services. I bought an icon. I fainted twice. I saw my Ukrainian friends that I've missed for five years. I cried my eyes out at the train station when I had to say goodbye. I helped teach a contracts class. I started taking sleeping pills. I sort of started sleeping. I finally learned about the federal income tax system. I fell in love with Moscow. I got a tan and retained it for four whole weeks. I moved twice. I learned more about how strong my family is. I only ran two road races, but did better than expected in both. I was gifted a build-a-bear by a crazy person. I went through four phones. I learned a few new songs on the guitar. I forgot most of them. I bought a Wally Lamb book at an airport and didn't get past the third chapter. I got to know the US embassy in Moscow. I ate about forty gallons of borshch. I saw the Hermitage. I saw Lenin. I bought art from a guy underground in the middle of the night. I learned how to make cookie-fruit-salad. I lived at the law building. I got Adeno virus. I fell in love with Promethazine. I fell out of love with Lortab. I stopped caring about things that don't matter. I started the walk-America campaign and held to it for two straight months. I switched from only hating one political party to hating two political parties. I got only slightly closer to finishing Crime and Punishment. I visited an orphanage. I decorated for Halloween. I fought a couple of battles. I won them at a cost. I didn't regret it. I had dinner overlooking an ocean. I lost a flip-flop in the snow. I accidentally ran 13 miles with a friend. I emailed strangers thousands of miles away to beg them to let me come live with them. I slept on a communal train with my bag tied around my body. I drank out of a river. I got rescued by a Tajikistanian in a beat up Lada. I learned how to schedule three meetings at once, several times a day, without missing anything. I ate broccoli soup in the middle of the night in a new cafe. I gave a couch away. I had a sleepover with my six year old niece. We ate broccoli and ice cream. Vintage. I played spoons in a pool. I played what time is it Mr. Fox with some cute kids in their backyard. I ran in the mountains. I started eating chocolate a little bit. I took a wagon ride on Halloween. I was grossed out by a water park. I accidentally carried pepper spray onto a tiny plane. I became obsessed with a tv show about high school football. I almost ate a stuffed green pepper that looked like puke. I bought four dollar sunglasses and lost them in the ocean 24 hours later. I bought replacement sunglasses for five dollars that don't seem quite as good. I lost my voice because of pollution. I watched the movie "Taken" on the floor of an abandoned corner in a German airport. I learned how to Salsa dance. I edited a treatise. I took naps on the grass. I enjoyed life.
I'm not really sure what's going to happen in 2010. We never really know; and that unsurity for some reason seems to be much more obvious during this time of year, forging a tighter bond yet highlighting the difference between our future hopes and growing nostalgia for the past. I always find myself trying to balance my thoughts between that nostalgia and a focus on the future. It won't do much good to continue to obsess over things that came and went. But it would seem like a total waste to just ignore all the laughs and drama simply because their fifteen minutes are up. I guess as long as we figure out how to take the lessons from the past and use those as a part of the process of molding our future hopes, the nostalgia is justified and should even be encouraged. In any event, blogging world, I hope the lessons of 2009 help 2010 just get stranger for you all~
Sunday, December 13, 2009
One Final Done: Tax Shmax
I can't believe how quickly it sprung up on me. Finals started on Monday and I finished my first on Thursday afternoon. I was supposed to take it on Wednesday with the rest of my class but thanks to November throwing a few extra surprises at me, particularly at my right hand, accommodations were made. I was scheduled to take the final on Thursday instead, all by myself with some extra time to make up for my recent handicap as well as having spent the last four weeks completely wasted on a concoction of medications that I'm quite positive I wasn't supposed to take together (I met a lot of people that probably don't really exist during the month of November). These additional accommodations were very appreciated although they did not come without drama unfortunately; another topic for another day.
The first final was Federal Income Tax Law (several of you just fell asleep). I was crammed into a conference room all by myself for six straight hours with nothing but my laptop, a bag of granola bars, an apple, vitamin water, and every piece of paper I could find that had any information about tax law on it. I spread out and went at it . . . and at it . . . and at it, until it started to feel like I was going into a different day. The most depressing point was when I started worrying about time and I looked up at the clock and saw that I still had a good four hours to finish. The good news is that my hand seemed to hold up pretty well; minimal pain and decent accuracy--one day I will be whole again.
I started physical therapy this week, or as I like to call it "therapy." I was really excited to go in and talk about my problems with someone while they massaged my hand. I would be lying if I said I didn't picture physical therapy to take place in a white robe, cucumbers in my eyes, laying back while someone asked me "and how does that make you feel" as I complained about all my trials. Sort of a mixture between a spa, psychologist, and church I guess. Unfortunately physical therapy was painful and not very social. Plus it was earlier in the morning than I cared for. Not to mention, it was bizarrely cold in there. Quite the disappointment. Not at all the moral boost I was hoping to send me into my tax final.
And now here we are. My study group and I spent the last couple of days crammed into a small study room frantically attempting to learn an entire semester's worth of Evidence for our final tomorrow. Fingers crossed.
Here's a somewhat blurry X-ray of my hand. You can see the four screws going down my bone: the latest additions to my body.
~It Just Gets Stranger
The first final was Federal Income Tax Law (several of you just fell asleep). I was crammed into a conference room all by myself for six straight hours with nothing but my laptop, a bag of granola bars, an apple, vitamin water, and every piece of paper I could find that had any information about tax law on it. I spread out and went at it . . . and at it . . . and at it, until it started to feel like I was going into a different day. The most depressing point was when I started worrying about time and I looked up at the clock and saw that I still had a good four hours to finish. The good news is that my hand seemed to hold up pretty well; minimal pain and decent accuracy--one day I will be whole again.
I started physical therapy this week, or as I like to call it "therapy." I was really excited to go in and talk about my problems with someone while they massaged my hand. I would be lying if I said I didn't picture physical therapy to take place in a white robe, cucumbers in my eyes, laying back while someone asked me "and how does that make you feel" as I complained about all my trials. Sort of a mixture between a spa, psychologist, and church I guess. Unfortunately physical therapy was painful and not very social. Plus it was earlier in the morning than I cared for. Not to mention, it was bizarrely cold in there. Quite the disappointment. Not at all the moral boost I was hoping to send me into my tax final.
And now here we are. My study group and I spent the last couple of days crammed into a small study room frantically attempting to learn an entire semester's worth of Evidence for our final tomorrow. Fingers crossed.
This was the room I took my tax final in. You'll notice I had my stuff spread all down the table. I stood for most of the test, walking around so I could consult every source known to man before responding to any questions.
Here's a somewhat blurry X-ray of my hand. You can see the four screws going down my bone: the latest additions to my body.
~It Just Gets StrangerMonday, November 30, 2009
Just Another Surgery
By way of update . . .
Just when you thought things couldn't get any better, a few days after my last post I went to a hand specialist (they actually exist) so he could assess the injury. I had already come to find during the few days since the break had occurred that losing your dominant hand functions creates an entirely new lifestyle. In ways that I never imagined life suddenly became difficult and/or humiliating while attempting various tasks. I was relieved to find that an informal support group had formed in the hand specialist waiting room where patients with wrapped hands talked about the trials they face and the support they need. One guy talked about how he can't play baseball with his son anymore. A lady said how embarrassed she was every time she had to sign a receipt with her left hand at a store. One girl spoke up timidly and told the group that she was hesitant to say anything at all because her break happened on her non-dominant hand, to which an older southern woman loudly replied, "Oh honey! We don't judge here! Infirmities come in all shapes and sizes!" Luckily I was called back before they started singing girls camp songs together.
Unluckily the doctor told me that if we didn't do surgery soon, my ring finger would be permanently stuck pointing to the side, which would be great for my circus job, but bad for everything else.
48 hours later I was going under the knife. They drilled four screws into my bone and wrapped it up tight. Tomorrow they'll remove the cast to look at it. Hopefully by then my hand won't look like the Hulk anymore.
9 days until finals . . . anyone got an extra hand I can borrow? (warning: I have been known to break them).
~It Just Gets Stranger
Just when you thought things couldn't get any better, a few days after my last post I went to a hand specialist (they actually exist) so he could assess the injury. I had already come to find during the few days since the break had occurred that losing your dominant hand functions creates an entirely new lifestyle. In ways that I never imagined life suddenly became difficult and/or humiliating while attempting various tasks. I was relieved to find that an informal support group had formed in the hand specialist waiting room where patients with wrapped hands talked about the trials they face and the support they need. One guy talked about how he can't play baseball with his son anymore. A lady said how embarrassed she was every time she had to sign a receipt with her left hand at a store. One girl spoke up timidly and told the group that she was hesitant to say anything at all because her break happened on her non-dominant hand, to which an older southern woman loudly replied, "Oh honey! We don't judge here! Infirmities come in all shapes and sizes!" Luckily I was called back before they started singing girls camp songs together.
Unluckily the doctor told me that if we didn't do surgery soon, my ring finger would be permanently stuck pointing to the side, which would be great for my circus job, but bad for everything else.
48 hours later I was going under the knife. They drilled four screws into my bone and wrapped it up tight. Tomorrow they'll remove the cast to look at it. Hopefully by then my hand won't look like the Hulk anymore.
9 days until finals . . . anyone got an extra hand I can borrow? (warning: I have been known to break them).
~It Just Gets Stranger
Monday, November 16, 2009
Friday the 13th
So I got Swine Flu last Wednesday. On Friday, in the middle of the night, I got up while violently shaking, and passed out cold on the floor. This woke up my roommate who woke up our other roommate for help. Roommate number three then passed out (for reasons that are still a mystery to us all). Thankfully Annette came over several hours later to sanitize the apartment, force-feed me, and take me to the doctor for the second time in 24 hours so he could tell me I broke my hand when I fainted. Apart from being freaked out about this news, I was very interested in convincing the doctor that I wasn't a drug seeker while still ensuring the maximum amount of drug prescriptions. Because I was successful in this, I haven't been sober in four days (including now).
Overall a pretty crappy weekend. And yes, I did just type all that with my left hand. Good thing finals aren't coming up. Oh wait . . .
~It Just Gets Stranger
Overall a pretty crappy weekend. And yes, I did just type all that with my left hand. Good thing finals aren't coming up. Oh wait . . .
~It Just Gets Stranger
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Catching Up
Miss me?
I apologize for the hiatus. Life has been jetting like a runaway train lately and something had to give. Of course I chose blogging and health. I'll tell you I've been busy despite the declaration from a friend who recently expressed via Facebook (the social network that tears people apart) that, essentially, those who don't have a wife and kids don't have a right to complain about being busy, as though wife and kids were thrust upon him as a curse from the heavens, rendering family the only legitimate use of time. No, I have been busy. And just like all of my married AND non-married friends, I have chosen the things that have kept me busy.
School is going well. I recently competed in two big competitions at the school and made it to finals of both (brag brag brag). The first was a trial advocacy competition similar to the one I did last year. It went five long rounds over a two week period and ended in utter defeat when we went up against a couple of 3Ls. The next week or two (ending just last Friday) I was doing appellate moot court arguments for a thirty page brief we had to write and submit in early October. This was also five grueling rounds that, also, ended in defeat. Nonetheless, I was proud of how I did. Both competitions were draining and dramatic (like most aspects of my life) and a really cool experience. Friday's judges were terrifying and intimidating; each of the three were appellate court judges, one from the Colorado Supreme Court.
So now I'm trying to catch Swine Flu and get caught up in my actual classes. Yes, I said "trying to catch Swine Flu." As you are well aware, there is a great incentivizing phenomenon accompanying the latest H1N1 strain. Recently the school sent out an email informing us all that Swine Flu was in our midst and that if anyone shows any flu-like symptoms, they should stay home in bed for several days. Additionally, the email let us know that the school has our backs and if anyone gets Swine Flu, the administration will do all in their power to take care us (as though they're the mafia) by talking to our professors and making sure we have everything we need.
So, now, we are all faced with two options: Option one: stay healthy and run yourself into mental insanity, or Option Two: catch Swine Flu and stay in bed for several days while the administration "takes care of you."
I understand that we are all interested in preventing the spread of this thing but I'm not exactly sure why. If the school really wanted us to stay away from each other, thus effectively quashing this undesired epidemic, they would start threatening each of us by requiring anyone who gets the virus to take failing grades in all their classes. I guarantee that this kind of tactic would have killed this thing when employers and administrations started incentivizing the flu earlier this summer. If only I were in charge.
~It Just Gets Stranger
I apologize for the hiatus. Life has been jetting like a runaway train lately and something had to give. Of course I chose blogging and health. I'll tell you I've been busy despite the declaration from a friend who recently expressed via Facebook (the social network that tears people apart) that, essentially, those who don't have a wife and kids don't have a right to complain about being busy, as though wife and kids were thrust upon him as a curse from the heavens, rendering family the only legitimate use of time. No, I have been busy. And just like all of my married AND non-married friends, I have chosen the things that have kept me busy.
School is going well. I recently competed in two big competitions at the school and made it to finals of both (brag brag brag). The first was a trial advocacy competition similar to the one I did last year. It went five long rounds over a two week period and ended in utter defeat when we went up against a couple of 3Ls. The next week or two (ending just last Friday) I was doing appellate moot court arguments for a thirty page brief we had to write and submit in early October. This was also five grueling rounds that, also, ended in defeat. Nonetheless, I was proud of how I did. Both competitions were draining and dramatic (like most aspects of my life) and a really cool experience. Friday's judges were terrifying and intimidating; each of the three were appellate court judges, one from the Colorado Supreme Court.
So now I'm trying to catch Swine Flu and get caught up in my actual classes. Yes, I said "trying to catch Swine Flu." As you are well aware, there is a great incentivizing phenomenon accompanying the latest H1N1 strain. Recently the school sent out an email informing us all that Swine Flu was in our midst and that if anyone shows any flu-like symptoms, they should stay home in bed for several days. Additionally, the email let us know that the school has our backs and if anyone gets Swine Flu, the administration will do all in their power to take care us (as though they're the mafia) by talking to our professors and making sure we have everything we need.
So, now, we are all faced with two options: Option one: stay healthy and run yourself into mental insanity, or Option Two: catch Swine Flu and stay in bed for several days while the administration "takes care of you."
I understand that we are all interested in preventing the spread of this thing but I'm not exactly sure why. If the school really wanted us to stay away from each other, thus effectively quashing this undesired epidemic, they would start threatening each of us by requiring anyone who gets the virus to take failing grades in all their classes. I guarantee that this kind of tactic would have killed this thing when employers and administrations started incentivizing the flu earlier this summer. If only I were in charge.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Monday, September 28, 2009
Rejected?
The most dreaded part of my day anymore is when it's time to get the mail. This is because every day I have one or two rejection letters from firms I've applied to telling me that they would just die to have me even drive by their office and they are so impressed with my resume and unbelievable credentials, "However . . . blah blah blah . . . high number of applicants . . . blah blah blah . . . lowering the amount of summer associates . . . blah blah blah . . . you aren't nearly as impressive as all five million people that applied before you . . . blah blah blah . . . you should die . . . blah blah blah."
I always look forward to holidays now when mail is not delivered. I'm also usually relieved on the days when I don't get rejected from the firms whose names I've been doodling in my notebook with hearts and whose buildings I do drive-bys at nights just to see who's there. When those rejections come I usually spend the rest of my day having dramatic meltdowns and "my life is over speeches" that any 13 year old girl would be proud of. The comparison to middle school relationships is pretty accurate except instead of giving your giggly friends the "check-yes-or-no" note to pass along, you give it to the firms' recruiters to relay it to attorneys who then return their answer through the US postal service. And the meltdowns and rebounds that follow require just as much attention. Thank heavens for my friend Annette who was willing to bring me cheesecake during my worst episode last week.
But today something unusual happened; a firm that I applied to about a month ago sent a letter to my apartment addressed to "Ms. Eli McCann." I checked with my roommates who assured me that the BYU honor code prevents us from having any females live in the apartment. They also said they didn't know any Ms. Eli McCanns. So, despite the potential for committing a serious federal offense, I opened the letter. Unfortunately it seems that this California firm is not interested in Ms. McCann, "However, [they] are taking the liberty of keeping [her] resume in [their] file."
I feel really badly for this girl. But should I call the firm and see whether they're still interested in me? It's been a month and I haven't heard a single word.
~It Just Gets Stranger
I always look forward to holidays now when mail is not delivered. I'm also usually relieved on the days when I don't get rejected from the firms whose names I've been doodling in my notebook with hearts and whose buildings I do drive-bys at nights just to see who's there. When those rejections come I usually spend the rest of my day having dramatic meltdowns and "my life is over speeches" that any 13 year old girl would be proud of. The comparison to middle school relationships is pretty accurate except instead of giving your giggly friends the "check-yes-or-no" note to pass along, you give it to the firms' recruiters to relay it to attorneys who then return their answer through the US postal service. And the meltdowns and rebounds that follow require just as much attention. Thank heavens for my friend Annette who was willing to bring me cheesecake during my worst episode last week.
But today something unusual happened; a firm that I applied to about a month ago sent a letter to my apartment addressed to "Ms. Eli McCann." I checked with my roommates who assured me that the BYU honor code prevents us from having any females live in the apartment. They also said they didn't know any Ms. Eli McCanns. So, despite the potential for committing a serious federal offense, I opened the letter. Unfortunately it seems that this California firm is not interested in Ms. McCann, "However, [they] are taking the liberty of keeping [her] resume in [their] file."
I feel really badly for this girl. But should I call the firm and see whether they're still interested in me? It's been a month and I haven't heard a single word.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Friday, September 18, 2009
Four Weeks In
Wrapping up my fourth week of school today . . . It's strange to think that I've only been back in school for four weeks. The double-scheduled meetings, the 30-pound case books, the journal editing, the classes, the paper writing, the relentless and often frustrating interviewing, the pressure to somehow retain some form of a social life, the competition, the tutoring . . . it all sort of makes four weeks seem like something much different.
And all of the pressure and anxiety lately has only made me think more about how different life was just a few months ago, hanging out on the streets in Moscow, comfortable, and relatively care-free. Every once in a while I get this flash-back of Kimberly, Acia, and I walking down this narrow street through the thick trees and concrete 20 story apartment complexes just outside of our office building. We've just finished work for the day and we have hours and hours of sunlight in a gorgeous, vibrant city. The possibilities are endless. We walk fast to get to metro because we have about 80 things we're trying to cram into our evening and we want to be able to do them all. Kimberly and I are teasing Acia about all the Russian boys we're going to find for her. She blushes and tells us in her cute Slavic accent to leave her alone. Eventually our conversation turns to vafly, which we've already eaten once or twice during the day. We pass the cheese roll stand where I buy my breakfast just after getting out of the metro every morning. And while that scene happened day-in, day-out for weeks, I never got tired of how happy I felt. I was somewhere that I really loved, experiencing something that I really loved.
Now my life looks quite a bit different. It's not really better or worse, just different. Amid all the stress, I get to be with great friends with whom I share the opportunity to get an invaluable education. It comes at a cost of course; all good things do. Most of the time I'm convinced that I love it despite all the aspects that sometimes aren't so lovable. Sometimes I have to convince myself to love those not so lovable aspects in order to stay productive.
There's always this little battle going on. Do I learn to love what I'm doing because I know it's right or do I change what I'm doing, cued in that not loving it is evidence that it's not right? How much of it am I supposed to love to make the sacrifice all worth it?
I'm not about to dramatically change course. Law school has been good for me in a lot of ways. Occasionally, however, I have to stop and ask myself where it is I'm trying to get. I have to ask myself what kind of realistic destinations actually exist for me. Am I working 100 hours a week to get somewhere I'll hate being? Is working 100 hours a week just to keep my head above water keeping me from doing a thousand things that are much more fulfilling? Who knows? For now I'll just keep trucking along, barely keeping up, throwing more mediocre accomplishments onto my resume, believing that eventually everything will work itself out. It always does in our charmed lives.
~It Just Gets Stranger
And all of the pressure and anxiety lately has only made me think more about how different life was just a few months ago, hanging out on the streets in Moscow, comfortable, and relatively care-free. Every once in a while I get this flash-back of Kimberly, Acia, and I walking down this narrow street through the thick trees and concrete 20 story apartment complexes just outside of our office building. We've just finished work for the day and we have hours and hours of sunlight in a gorgeous, vibrant city. The possibilities are endless. We walk fast to get to metro because we have about 80 things we're trying to cram into our evening and we want to be able to do them all. Kimberly and I are teasing Acia about all the Russian boys we're going to find for her. She blushes and tells us in her cute Slavic accent to leave her alone. Eventually our conversation turns to vafly, which we've already eaten once or twice during the day. We pass the cheese roll stand where I buy my breakfast just after getting out of the metro every morning. And while that scene happened day-in, day-out for weeks, I never got tired of how happy I felt. I was somewhere that I really loved, experiencing something that I really loved.
Now my life looks quite a bit different. It's not really better or worse, just different. Amid all the stress, I get to be with great friends with whom I share the opportunity to get an invaluable education. It comes at a cost of course; all good things do. Most of the time I'm convinced that I love it despite all the aspects that sometimes aren't so lovable. Sometimes I have to convince myself to love those not so lovable aspects in order to stay productive.
There's always this little battle going on. Do I learn to love what I'm doing because I know it's right or do I change what I'm doing, cued in that not loving it is evidence that it's not right? How much of it am I supposed to love to make the sacrifice all worth it?
I'm not about to dramatically change course. Law school has been good for me in a lot of ways. Occasionally, however, I have to stop and ask myself where it is I'm trying to get. I have to ask myself what kind of realistic destinations actually exist for me. Am I working 100 hours a week to get somewhere I'll hate being? Is working 100 hours a week just to keep my head above water keeping me from doing a thousand things that are much more fulfilling? Who knows? For now I'll just keep trucking along, barely keeping up, throwing more mediocre accomplishments onto my resume, believing that eventually everything will work itself out. It always does in our charmed lives.
~It Just Gets Stranger
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Losing Friends Fast
This should probably be documented.
Every year the law school has an Olympic-themed event in the large moot court room at BYU where the members of the three different classes participate in three events, evaluated by judges from each of the classes and then awarded with gold, silver and bronze medals (in case you've never heard of the Olympics before). As exciting as this all sounds, I'm quite sure that whatever respect you had for law students would immediately and quickly go right out the window if you witnessed any piece of the glorious event.
Annette hosted it this year, looking totally trashy dressed up as Tonya Harding (Annette is the 2L class pres this year and probably the most popular girl in school!). Because of my connection with law school royalty, I was recruited to somehow involve myself in one of the three events.
My involvement was not in the first event, the javelin throw, done by spitting cotton swabs through straws at the audience (classy).
Losing friends fast.
I think this was one of the more inspiring parts of the performance.
Practicing in the hall right before going on.
Seconds before the final pose. I can't figure out what my favorite part about this picture is. Probably the girl on the right.
Every year the law school has an Olympic-themed event in the large moot court room at BYU where the members of the three different classes participate in three events, evaluated by judges from each of the classes and then awarded with gold, silver and bronze medals (in case you've never heard of the Olympics before). As exciting as this all sounds, I'm quite sure that whatever respect you had for law students would immediately and quickly go right out the window if you witnessed any piece of the glorious event.
Annette hosted it this year, looking totally trashy dressed up as Tonya Harding (Annette is the 2L class pres this year and probably the most popular girl in school!). Because of my connection with law school royalty, I was recruited to somehow involve myself in one of the three events.
My involvement was not in the first event, the javelin throw, done by spitting cotton swabs through straws at the audience (classy).
My involvement was not in the second event either, which was a hoola-hoop contest, completely owned by a 2L in high hills.
No no, my involvement was all about the third and final event. The synchronized swimming. Three girls in my class layed behind the bench in the moot court room with their legs up in the air, running through some ridiculous routine to the song "The Final Countdown" while I sprayed them with water and impromptu danced like an idiot wearing a swimming cap in front of several hundred people. The performance climaxed with me climbing on top of the bench and doing some odd and equally dramatic spins and poses while the girls did Jazz hands and other moves that any interpretive dancer would be proud of. When the final pose took place (I was on one foot, arms in the air, standing high on the judge's bench overlooking a crowd of impressed spectators, the sounds of motivational '80's rock music ringing in my ears, Annette several feet away in shiny gray pants and the world's trashiest blond wig), I looked to the back and spotted my conservative 60 year old Contracts professor (who I now work for), and I thought "Other than the banya, this might be the strangest moment of my life."
Taking one for the team paid back big time; we totally took the gold.
I'm so glad I feel like I have an hour to spend doing stuff like this.
Accepting the award. That's Annette on the very left.
Losing friends fast.
I think this was one of the more inspiring parts of the performance.
Practicing in the hall right before going on.
Seconds before the final pose. I can't figure out what my favorite part about this picture is. Probably the girl on the right.
On a side note, here are the same people one week earlier, looking professional as always.
~It Just Gets Stranger
~It Just Gets Stranger
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