Oceanic

Amsterdam is one of my favorite cities in the world. On my last trip there, I memorialized it by taking a picture on the street I stay on, Kloveniersburgwaal Straat (along the Kloveniersburgwaal Grachten - the Cavalier's canal.) In it, I can see a few bicyclists (cars are verboten in the city center), two of which are riding and holding hands. The street is lined with amsterdamers - knee-high metal posts designed for colliding with tourists. The picturesque bridge, and the canal itself complete the picture.

I used to keep that photo on my desk before law school (and, I might add, before the advent of digital photography.) Whenever I was stressed, I would pick up the picture. I would meditate on it until I could place myself on the street, feel the weight of my backpack, hear the guttural Dutch being spoken around me, smell the Bloomenmarket around the corner.

The picture above is of sunrise as seen from the beach on Key Biscayne. It was my last day in Miami, and I spent it doing "the circuit": ocean, pool, hot tub. The "photo op" found me curled up on a chaise lounge, wrapped up in a fluffy terry robe, and thinking deep thoughts. I've always had a thing for the beach, but not in that tan-tastic way. The ocean humbles me in an oddly comforting way. It existed before me, and will continue after me. My problems, fears, insecurities, anxieties, hang-ups, concerns, etc are but a drop in the ocean. With my feet firmly planted on the beach, I still feel absolved.

I think this picture may be my new Amsterdam

Can I get an encore?

I averaged 2 hours of sleep a night while I was in Miami (more on this later, I promise), but I still had the sense to stop at Trader Joe's on my way home from the airport. Imagine my surprise when the cashier carded me - HARD!

cashier: I.D.
maisnon: REALLY?!?!
cashier: Yeah, for the wine.
cashier [smirking subtext]: You're so busted
maisnon hands over the license
cashier: Vir-gin-ya.......Hmmm.... '85, you're okay
maisnon: Uh, SEVENTY-five. I'm THIRTY-one.

As if!

Peekaboo!

Recently, a spate of people have approached me to chat about law school. The teen director at the Boys and Girls Club was the first. (He is not, in fact, a teen - he's a college grad in charge of teens.) He told me that his friends were encouraging him to go to law school, but he thought that he would end up starting a non-profit. I gave him my contact info and offered to chat with him about lawschool whenever, and also put him in touch with a friend who started his own nonprofit: Sangati, the Community Center for South Asian music. (I know, right? How cool is that?)

The second person inquired indirectly. My fabulous eyebrow artiste asked me if her son could contact me and bounce some ideas off of me about law school. (Incidentally, she told me that he was very into music - and I passed on the Sangati information. Worlds intersecting - it's just crazy.)

The last person was a fellow associate's secretary's mom's nurse's daughter. "Old Lady Who Swallowed the Fly" enough for you? Basically, this nurse asked a legal secretary if she knew any South Asian attorneys who would talk to her daughter about law school, help her figure out what classes she should take (HA!), etc. When my fellow associate told me the requesting party was an Indian nurse, I told him that she was most likely Malayalee. He was incredulous that I could tell where in India she was from just from her occupation. When I told him she was probably Christian, he was beside himself. (We have money riding on this, so we'll see if I'm right. A N N A, Krusty - back me up on this one!)

It's been a few weeks now, and no one has contacted me to have the "should I or shouldn't I?" conversation, which is fine fine - I'm a leetle swamped at work as it is. So far, my "helpful chats" have talked one paralegal into going and one into not going (she's decided to try her hand at writing children's books - to which I say, write on! Ouch!)

I have a weird sort of luck: serendipity and knock-down randomness are old friends. Over the weekend, Tanya was workin' her magic on ze eyebrows, when she paused, looked at me in the mirror and said, "Oh, by the way, my son reads your blog." I, of course, shot right up and yelped, "WHAT?!" "Yes, he looked at your email address and said, 'Oh I know her, I read her blog all the time.'"

Not that we hadn't established it before, but the world is teeny, tiny. (Hi Jay! Leave me a comment already!)

This post could have been titled, I'm famous, Part IV. (Parts I, II, III.) Part I is the old chestnut of how Heather of Two Timig' the Cosmos and I met; it 110% proves my random serendipity assertion.

55 Fiction Friday: Nonfat latte edition

Friday needs caffeine.

What a terrific smile! Their kids wouldn’t need braces. And he’d remember that she preferred lilies, not roses, when he surprised her for “no reason at all.” She’d learn to make red sauce to rival his mother’s. “Tall macchiato extra-hot.” With that Mr. Thoughtful aimed his perfect smile at the barrista, turned, and was gone.

Drop it Like it's Hawt

maisnon17: i'm still not totally clear on what your job entails
MattC: hearings, gang taskforce meeting, and traveling with the AG
MattC: my life is consumed by gangs. which is cool, because i have an even BETTER insight into rap lyrics!!!
maisnon17: HA HA HA!
maisnon17: hmmm...i have to say, knowing more about fiber optic networks.... doesn't help decode the lyrics
MattC: don't worry, i'll share my gang textbooks with you
MattC: i actually had to use the "blue flag hanging out the left side, yeah that's the crip side" in a community presentation the other week
maisnon17: HA HA HA HA HA
MattC: i felt like i was betraying snoop and pharrell

Haiku Movie Review

Thank You for Smoking

Quick, black comedy
DC lobbying done “right”
Katie Holmes – why? WHY?

The Inside Man

Clive Owen hidden
That’s a travesty, I say
But – you GO, Spike Lee

Out of Africa

Michael Ondaatje:
You stole scenes from this film for
The English Patient

NB:

(1) See here for previous haiku movie review.

(2) Ondaatje is a fellow Queen's alum.

(3) The Katie Holmes (I mean... Kate Cruise) article is much more extensively footnoted than you'd expect!

Bidness/Bidnass

So. A financial planner called me out of the blue yesterday and suggested meeting me later that afternoon because she was dropping by a client in my office. Trying to turn back to my work, I asked her to give me a call when she was done with her client and I would see what my schedule looked like.

She called me that afternoon and I went downstairs to meet her hoping to pick up her business card, and maybe a shiny folder with useless, if colorful, brochures. Yeah, not so much. She clearly planned for us to have a sit-down, so I found two unoccupied chairs in a hallway. She started asking me about my background, where I grew up, how many siblings I have, etc. etc.

I think I'm an open person (hello! I have a blog where I share the various and sundry details of my life with the whole Internets!), but I found it really jarring and it made me massively uncomfortable. I have no poker face, unless I really, really focus, so it must have been blatantly obvious that I wasn't enjoying the process. I was also irritated that she wasn't respecting that I had told her that I had a full schedule.

Questions that really bothered me:

"Tell me what your father, the economist, and your mother, the accountant, taught you about saving."

Umm, what??? As you've summarized, my parents are all about the dollar, dollar bills, y'all. Like I'm going to be able to summarize what they spent 17+ years teaching me. As I ended up telling her, they are IMMIGRANTS! The saving mentality is basically "SAVE! Don't spend!" As my mother has told me a hundred times, you never know when circumstances may change. (My dad, being an economist, is a little more aggressive in terms of return on your money, but same basic idea.)

"Where do you see yourself 5 years from now....personally, professionally, financially?"

I don't think my best friend has a solid grasp on that question. Hell, I don't think I know what I want 5 years down the road - why would I want to share that with someone I just met who is horning in on my time? I told her that if someone told me 5 years ago that I'd go "cold turkey" on my software engineering career, go to law school, and end up moving to California - I would have called them crazy. I'm much less about medium to long-term planning now. I point myself towards a goal, but I check in often to make sure that it's what I really want.

And now for the kicker:

"So, it's just you then, is it? No kids? No husband?"

To which I said, "I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate me having a husband." Actually, that's what I wish I had said. I experienced a mix of "Mom, is that you?"; "if you just had to ask, why would you phrase the question that way in the BAY AREA?"; and "how does someone younger than me manage to sound so Aunt Bee?"

I go through phases: once a year for a month or so, I suddenly experience a lot of interest in my personal life. (I'm not counting trips to the nail salon - happens every time I go.) Individually, these episodes are really funny (ex. owner of the "bridal shoppe"where I purchased my maid of honor gown, "Sometimes you need to hit someone over the head." Good to know) - but, overall, it leaves me a little anxious. Should I be concerned? Am I so outside the norm? Do I really care if I am? Ultimately, I decide "no, maybe, not really." Aside from the pure humor value (woman at the doctor's office taking a blood sample, "You're not married?! At your age?! But you're INDIAN! You need a plan!" Important to note - she was not Indian), maybe I should be happy with the (externally-inforced) yearly opportunity to consider what is important to me, and the way I'm living my life.

55 Fiction "Friday": Law School Sympathy Edition

Last year, I would have spent this Friday studying (as opposed to this year: frantically trying to make a filing.)

Study hair: for women, the inventive use of Bic pens and hair elastics, swirls and plaits of nervous energy incidentally highlighting the furrowed brow. Anxiety radiating through the joggling knee, the tapping finger, the constant lip balm application. Returning to caveman-like territoriality, complete with glowering looks, over a particular chair or table in the library.

We can work it out

Ode to 12-hour work days

I picked up my cell

Hit '9' for an outside line

Too much time at work

I've lived at work this week, and as far as I can tell, this will be my reality for the foreseeable future. I'm on a case that is heating up (boiling over may be more accurate!) The part that really surprises me is that, not only do I not mind, I'm actually enjoying it. I keep checking in with myself, "Do I feel put upon? Taken advantage of? Am I feeling mope-y?" And the answer is consistently "no." Part of it is that everyone on the team is putting in the same kind of hours, including the partner (and I respect him for it.) Part of it is that the work is really engaging me: I'm learning about a technology I know nothing about, and experiencing litigation from the inside.

Litigation reminds me of Austen-era social dancing: now you clap, then turn to the left: a complex etiquette guided by the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, as well as local rules, and the particular judge's standing orders in true reverse pyramid style. Notices, motions, briefs in support of, certificates of service, exhibits, appendices - it's a little Brazil-ian in its worship at the altar of "paper."

Those are the mechanics, archane and esoteric - baseball statistics traded between paralegals, secretaries, and associates. But, what I really like is the hustle. People are surprisingly efficient when time-pressed. Like an excited electron, we can suddenly operate on a higher level: more decisive and incisive, more straight-forward. Deadlines force a clarity of thought and purpose.

Knowing that I will be spending the next few weeks/months in Bauer-like intensity, I've started changing my life. You can go all-out for a week, but not for 6: I need to find ways to take care of myself. I'm spring cleaning so that I can minimize messiness at home and create a sanctuary. Because I'm now dedicated to one project, my schedule is, oddly, more flexible. I will work later in order to have an hour driving around with the sunroof open, or a quality date with the gym, or a really stellar glass of wine.

On guilt

... and my brazen refusal to be guilted.


From: the Star
Sent: Thursday, April 27, 2006 7:41 PM
To: maisnon

dinner?

From: maisnon
Sent: Thursday, April 27, 2006 7:53 PM
To: the Star

Dude, we JUST ordered Pizza from Applewood's. :(

Sorry, I should have asked you.


From: the Star
Sent: Thursday, April 27, 2006 8:00 PM
To: maisnon

Nah, no prob...I'll go out all by my lonesome self.

Thanks, thanks anyways...

boo hoo hoo...whoa is me...


From: maisnon
Sent: Thursday, April 27, 2006 8:03 PM
To: the Star

Have fun!

And, btw, it's woe...WOE is me. Or, in this case, woe is you.