Friday has a vacation coming up.
Her mind devoured the forums, her eyes lingered on the photographs. She tried to store it all away: the best place to get faeda in Barcelona, the can’t miss site in Nairobi, which ferries to avoid in Nicaragua. Even if she couldn’t get there just yet, some small part of her could travel and experience.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Saturday, July 08, 2006
équilibre
I've often seen life as a juggling act (or, possibly, plate spinning.) At any time, there is the friends & family ball, the career/school ball, finances ball, mental/physical/emotional health ball, etc. You try to keep them all up in the air at the same time - but from time to time, one falls and needs extra attention. Maybe just dusting off, maybe KrazyGlue or more dramatic repairs.
And occasionally, they all fall down (and crank you in the noggin as they succumb to gravity's sweet seduction.) You're dazed, looking at all these balls rolling in different directions and wondering which one to pick up first. Should there be some kind of triage? Maybe deal with the one that would be easiest to repair? The one that is the most cracked?
With enough fire drills, you come up with a plan that works for you, a kick-start to getting the balls brushed off and back in the air. It becomes an almost familiar procedure, and comforting in its routine and its guaranteed results - return to juggle-mania. An auto-reset button.
Unfortunately, eventually, the kick-start button stops working.
Not surprisingly, that's where I am (and where I've been - hello, Lack of Posting - Population: ME!) The little tricks and manoeuvres I usually use to get things going again aren't working. My bag of tricks is still a bag, but it's not so much doing the trick. And when you're trying to cope with what you perceive as disappointments in a lot of different arenas, it's hard to be creative and open enough to come up with new ways to get back up to speed.
And occasionally, they all fall down (and crank you in the noggin as they succumb to gravity's sweet seduction.) You're dazed, looking at all these balls rolling in different directions and wondering which one to pick up first. Should there be some kind of triage? Maybe deal with the one that would be easiest to repair? The one that is the most cracked?
With enough fire drills, you come up with a plan that works for you, a kick-start to getting the balls brushed off and back in the air. It becomes an almost familiar procedure, and comforting in its routine and its guaranteed results - return to juggle-mania. An auto-reset button.
Unfortunately, eventually, the kick-start button stops working.
Not surprisingly, that's where I am (and where I've been - hello, Lack of Posting - Population: ME!) The little tricks and manoeuvres I usually use to get things going again aren't working. My bag of tricks is still a bag, but it's not so much doing the trick. And when you're trying to cope with what you perceive as disappointments in a lot of different arenas, it's hard to be creative and open enough to come up with new ways to get back up to speed.
Friday, July 07, 2006
55 Fiction Friday: Cosmo edition
Friday reads trashy "women's" mags, but will never admit it.
Thumbing through the magazine, she found the pattern: page 11- “Being Single is Fabulous”, page 15 - “Snag the Hottie of Your Dreams”, page 35 - “Improve your Body Image!”, page 72 - “10 Get Fit Quick Tips.” She flipped it closed in disgust – they really were trying to drive her crazy. At $5.99 an issue, no less.
Thumbing through the magazine, she found the pattern: page 11- “Being Single is Fabulous”, page 15 - “Snag the Hottie of Your Dreams”, page 35 - “Improve your Body Image!”, page 72 - “10 Get Fit Quick Tips.” She flipped it closed in disgust – they really were trying to drive her crazy. At $5.99 an issue, no less.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Note to self:
Janice Dickenson Modeling Agency is crack. I'm getting stupider by the second, but I can't stop.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Jiggity jig
It's funny how little things seem to change. I arrived in DC late last night. For whatever reason, my father turns airport pick-ups into some sort of Ocean's 11-type mission. He picks up at DEPARTURES, not Arrivals and sends one of the little brothers in to wait by the escalator between baggage claim and Departures. Last night, we had a three-person team on the mission. I have no idea why - many of his more recent peculiarities, I blame on retirement.
This week, every time I've told people that I'm going home to DC, I've indicated apprehension about the heat, humidity, recent flooding, and weather in general. However, I found myself rushing outside. Humidity at night retreats to something lush.
I opened the car door and was enveloped in the scent of jasmine - not the cheesy air freshner kind. My mother (staying up way past her bedtime) had come along and brought me a jasmine mala . In the car, my parents studiously only asked me questions about the flight. (I have complained, quite bitterly, about the Spanish Inquisition on the car ride home.) My mother started the smothering (notice how the word 'mother' is right in there?) on the topic of climate control. The smothering is like a physical entity - ivy growing, entwining itself around the victim. The worst part is that I find myself doing it too. There are times when my mother pries open my jaws and has her say: "You'll be cold without a sweater" (said to Neel Mehta at our Maverick dinner - more to come on this.)
We piled out of the car and I took my things up to the bedroom of my childhood (recently abandoned by LB2.) I slept in the twin bed I occupied from age 7 to 17 (canopy removed to "butch it up" for my little brother.)
And now, I'm watching the World Cup with my parents, just like I did in 2002, 1998, 1994, etc.
This week, every time I've told people that I'm going home to DC, I've indicated apprehension about the heat, humidity, recent flooding, and weather in general. However, I found myself rushing outside. Humidity at night retreats to something lush.
I opened the car door and was enveloped in the scent of jasmine - not the cheesy air freshner kind. My mother (staying up way past her bedtime) had come along and brought me a jasmine mala . In the car, my parents studiously only asked me questions about the flight. (I have complained, quite bitterly, about the Spanish Inquisition on the car ride home.) My mother started the smothering (notice how the word 'mother' is right in there?) on the topic of climate control. The smothering is like a physical entity - ivy growing, entwining itself around the victim. The worst part is that I find myself doing it too. There are times when my mother pries open my jaws and has her say: "You'll be cold without a sweater" (said to Neel Mehta at our Maverick dinner - more to come on this.)
We piled out of the car and I took my things up to the bedroom of my childhood (recently abandoned by LB2.) I slept in the twin bed I occupied from age 7 to 17 (canopy removed to "butch it up" for my little brother.)
And now, I'm watching the World Cup with my parents, just like I did in 2002, 1998, 1994, etc.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Nightgrinder
My favorite part: My dentist hovered over me, eyebrows creased with concern, announced that I had started grinding my teeth and asked, "Is there anything stressful in your life?"
It may not have been polite to laugh that heartily with his face only inches away. He started laughing too and said, "I love asking that question - everyone always responds the same way. Unless you're living in a small Mexican fishing village, everyone's life has stress."
The news that I'm grinding my teeth at night has left me feeling oddly....broken. I think it scares me that I may be so out of touch with myself that I am manifesting anxiety in this visceral, physical way. That there might be this whole cistern of unhappiness that only seeps out at night.
For now, I am popping anti-inflammatories (my cheeks are quite round enough without the puffiness, thank you!) and using a nightguard. (My rockstar dentist decided to just make one for me because sending it to the lab would take too long.)
I seem to have taken yet-another unplanned hiatus from ze blog. As usual, the hiatus does not indicate nothing to write about, but rather too much. I see myself as an old-time telephone operator, eyes scanning the switchboard for little pinpricks of light. My fingers are flying as fast as they can, and yet, that's the easy part. I am considering the unconsiderable - looking at the clay and asking it to speak to me. Will I be quiet enough to hear it?
It may not have been polite to laugh that heartily with his face only inches away. He started laughing too and said, "I love asking that question - everyone always responds the same way. Unless you're living in a small Mexican fishing village, everyone's life has stress."
.........
The news that I'm grinding my teeth at night has left me feeling oddly....broken. I think it scares me that I may be so out of touch with myself that I am manifesting anxiety in this visceral, physical way. That there might be this whole cistern of unhappiness that only seeps out at night.
For now, I am popping anti-inflammatories (my cheeks are quite round enough without the puffiness, thank you!) and using a nightguard. (My rockstar dentist decided to just make one for me because sending it to the lab would take too long.)
.........
I seem to have taken yet-another unplanned hiatus from ze blog. As usual, the hiatus does not indicate nothing to write about, but rather too much. I see myself as an old-time telephone operator, eyes scanning the switchboard for little pinpricks of light. My fingers are flying as fast as they can, and yet, that's the easy part. I am considering the unconsiderable - looking at the clay and asking it to speak to me. Will I be quiet enough to hear it?
Friday, June 23, 2006
55 Fiction Friday: Compendium
Friday makes a list and checks it twice, even though it's totally not seasonal.
“Make new friends.... Find new job where boss is not despotic idiot …. Take charge of finances …. Apply to grad school…. Plan a vacation …. Dump guy you never see anyway …. Clean and organize apartment.” With a heavy sigh, she drew a line through the whole list and neatly printed, “GET A LIFE.”
And...something I've been meaning to do - a reverse chron list of my FFF to date:
“Make new friends.... Find new job where boss is not despotic idiot …. Take charge of finances …. Apply to grad school…. Plan a vacation …. Dump guy you never see anyway …. Clean and organize apartment.” With a heavy sigh, she drew a line through the whole list and neatly printed, “GET A LIFE.”
.........
And...something I've been meaning to do - a reverse chron list of my FFF to date:
- Compendium (see how I did that? It's, like, so meta!)
- Nonfat latte
- Law School Sympathy
- Midnight Sun
- She's crafty
Monday, June 12, 2006
Least Complicated
I finally did it! I finally managed to lie about my dating status. Or at least, dissemble.
The delivery guy was clearly Indian (his compatriot called him Bapu - BAPU, for pete's sake!) , so I decided to try and circumvent the 20 questions by asking him where in India he was from. He replied, "India." This was going to go well, I could just tell. My first name (on all the delivery papers) couldn't be more Indian if I tried. (So is my last name, but only if you're familiar with our little neck of the woods.)
I was signing papers for the delivery guy when he said "So, you live alone." To anyone inside my apartment, it's beyond obvious that I live by myself - but why (WHY) would a delivery guy comment on it? It's creepy! Then he said, "You don't have boyFREN?" I managed to sputter "I didn't say THAT." Oddly, he had me totally pegged: "You just don't want to LIVE with him." I'm not sure if that was meant as a commentary on my domestic failings or a simple observation, but I couldn't have said it better myself.
The delivery guy was clearly Indian (his compatriot called him Bapu - BAPU, for pete's sake!) , so I decided to try and circumvent the 20 questions by asking him where in India he was from. He replied, "India." This was going to go well, I could just tell. My first name (on all the delivery papers) couldn't be more Indian if I tried. (So is my last name, but only if you're familiar with our little neck of the woods.)
I was signing papers for the delivery guy when he said "So, you live alone." To anyone inside my apartment, it's beyond obvious that I live by myself - but why (WHY) would a delivery guy comment on it? It's creepy! Then he said, "You don't have boyFREN?" I managed to sputter "I didn't say THAT." Oddly, he had me totally pegged: "You just don't want to LIVE with him." I'm not sure if that was meant as a commentary on my domestic failings or a simple observation, but I couldn't have said it better myself.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Olé, Ola, Allez
In honor of the World Cup, a story about my mother:
Our family has always been into sports. I remember watching tennis when we lived in France. (Aside: when I asked my father about the scoring, in time-honored paternal fashion, he told me to figure it out. I’m sure I wasn’t the first 5 year old to not be able to decipher “love-15-30-40” not to mention deuce, add-in, add-out, tiebreakers, etc. Sometimes, Pops, you should explain what’s going on.) After we moved to the U.S., we watched (American) football and were solid Redskins fans. At some point while I was in college, Mom turned into a raging basketball fan (but that’s a story for another day.)
All the kids in my family started playing soccer at a young age. Saturday morning games were a large part of my childhood. The parents thronging the sidelines reflected one of my favorite aspects of D.C. – it’s cultural and linguistic diversity. Cantonese, Bahasa Indonesia, Hindi, a smattering of West African languages, Portuguese, Spanish, French – I’ve heard it all at youth soccer games. (I remember listening to an Argentinean dad and realizing that he was yelling at his son in a language other than Spanish. When I asked him about he said “Yes, I’m speaking Italian – that’s where our family moved from.” For some reason, this blew my mind – I guess I just assumed, based on our family, that people moved to English speaking countries.)
The year was 1994 – World Cup Fever was sweeping the U.S. (More accurately, it was sweeping a certain segment of the American population.) This coincided with what was probably the nadir of my relationship with my parents. They just didn’t know what to do with me and were trying to clamp down tighter and tighter, and I was reacting (predictably) unfavorably. Thankfully, our family was able to agree on watching soccer games.
We had watched most of the Round of 16, and we were all arrayed in our preferred seats. The final was between Brazil and Italy. I’ve been a Brazilian soccer fan for a long time, so I was perturbed that my mother was supporting Italy. When asked why, she said (try and follow the logic), “Roberto Baggio is a Buddhist, and that’s sort of like being Hindu.” Not surprisingly, I pointed out that the rest of the Italian team was most likely Roman Catholic. She said, “Still – one is better than none. And I’m sure the Brazilian team is all Christian.”
One is better than none, indeed.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
DTG does the Bar
(May not make sense to non-law types)
DTG: VA civ pro blows
maisnon17: :-)
maisnon17: I remember Conrad asking me about CA civ pro
maisnon17: and I had to tell him that we only need to know FRCP
maisnon17: no Cali specific-stuff. He was irate
DTG: yeah, I resent people who are taking the truly easy bars like jersey and ct
maisnon17: dude, NO ONE would call the California bar easy
maisnon17: I think NY is harder, but people often put Cali ahead b/c of its dismal pass rate
DTG: yeah, Cali has it's own issue with the third day
maisnon17: THE THIRD DAY
DTG: duh duh duh
maisnon17: man, I think we could make it a movie:
maisnon17: THE THIRD DAY: The Widowmaker
DTG: today I was contemplating how much i would pay to get automatically barred
DTG: I think I came up with 25k
maisnon17: dude, when I was studying for the Bar
maisnon17: I considered whether I'd do an extra semester of law school
maisnon17: b/c - studying is like 2 months, and a semester is 4
DTG: this is more studying than I've done in law school in total
DTG: my brain is pissed at me
DTG: VA civ pro blows
maisnon17: :-)
maisnon17: I remember Conrad asking me about CA civ pro
maisnon17: and I had to tell him that we only need to know FRCP
maisnon17: no Cali specific-stuff. He was irate
DTG: yeah, I resent people who are taking the truly easy bars like jersey and ct
maisnon17: dude, NO ONE would call the California bar easy
maisnon17: I think NY is harder, but people often put Cali ahead b/c of its dismal pass rate
DTG: yeah, Cali has it's own issue with the third day
maisnon17: THE THIRD DAY
DTG: duh duh duh
maisnon17: man, I think we could make it a movie:
maisnon17: THE THIRD DAY: The Widowmaker
DTG: today I was contemplating how much i would pay to get automatically barred
DTG: I think I came up with 25k
maisnon17: dude, when I was studying for the Bar
maisnon17: I considered whether I'd do an extra semester of law school
maisnon17: b/c - studying is like 2 months, and a semester is 4
DTG: this is more studying than I've done in law school in total
DTG: my brain is pissed at me
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