Monday, January 16, 2017

"Am I Even Allowed Here?" Is the Title of My Biography

So...hi. It's been awhile. Weird how that happened. Am I even allowed back?
Let's all blame it on Obama and have a moment of silence for his failed presidency & final days in office (not that we're counting down or anything). 

And now let's refocus on me:
I start my final day of law school tomorrow. 
Remember when I went to law school - on a whim - just to avoid having to be an adult?
Nobody told me it would go so quickly and adulthood would once again loom menacingly on the horizon!

Quick recap of the minuscule, teeny, so-slight-you-must-have-imagined-it time during which I neglected dear old blog (and the reason for the title of this post):
I spent a fair amount of the spring semester secluded in my journal office studying into the wee hours of the morning, repeatedly asking the security guard if it was okay for me to be there at such weird times. 
For the first half of the summer, I worked as a law clerk at a small firm, where I was treated horribly and given far more responsibility than I felt ready for. Weekly happy hour was spent checking that everyone else felt just as inadequate and not-at-all-prepared-for-real-life (misery loves company and whatnot.)
I interned in a court during the second half of the summer, and I got to sit with the bailiff during a capital murder trial. Naturally, I asked anyone who even remotely appeared to be a responsible adult if I should be there because aRE YOU KIDDING ME THERE WAS A MURDERER IN THE ROOM WITH ME I PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE CALLED MY MOM FOR PERMISSION.
In the fall, I took on far too many responsibilities and people kept coming to me for advice, so I learned the fine art of inwardly asking if I should even be here ("here" being law school, in a position of authority, adulthood, etc.). I also learned exactly how quickly I can finish an entire bottle of wine and still wake up in time to fight downtown Houston traffic. 

And now we are here. 
The start of my final semester. 
If you are wondering what spring semester of 3L looks like:
 And if you are wondering what spring semester of 3L feels like, it's a combination of:
The next few months of this blog will likely look eerily similar to the first few months of this blog - a desperate search for a job, figuring out what I want to do in life (this time focused on lawyerly stuff), and a lot of feigned-but-often-very-real apathy. 

My saving grace: remembering some of the folks who failed even harder than I did for even longer than I did. 

  • Kristen Wiig: job-hopped (probably a barista, TBH) until SNL found her at age 32
  • JK Rowling: unemployed & super depressed before HP was published when she was 31
  • Andrea Bocelli: went to law school & worked as a lawyer for a year before being discovered AND LEFT THE LEGAL FIELD BEHIND TO JUST SING HIS LITTLE HEART OUT (obviously my personal fave)
Wish me luck! Or send wine. Whatever. 

Except now I'm 26. EXCEPT NOW I'M 26. 

Thursday, June 9, 2016


Accidental hiatus over? We'll see. 
I don't know that anything's really changed; I've just learned to navigate the darkness. (Let that depressing statement linger for a while.)

On that happy note...

I don't fancy myself a feminist. 

And maybe it's just the effect of law school. Or being alone again for the first time in a little while and all the overthinking that comes of that. 
But my newfound feminista is also born of experience. 

My pre-law career didn't prepare me for any sort of sexism. 
Miss Honey, Ms. Frizzle, Ms. Krabappel, Miss Bliss (bless her heart for holding on to that "Miss" as long as possible). 
The image of the female elementary teacher is prevalent in pop culture.
If a potential employer was expecting something else, that was really their fault. 

And then I went to law school.
I spent the last month of school in desperation, studying for finals while going on interview after interview in search of summer employment.
One interview in particular had me so unsettled that I mentioned it to several friends:

During this interview, I was asked what my sister and mother do for a living. Odd, irrelevant question, right?
Upon hearing that they both chose the arduous and never-ending career of stay-at-home mothering, the conversation took a turn. I was told that I should ascertain whether the legal field was right for me because it is incredibly time consuming. 
My interviewer also inquired as to my relationship status. He oh-so-helpfully advised that, if I have a significant other who will be put off by my working late in the evening, I need to choose my relationship over my career.
I walked away absolutely certain that they would be offering the position to literally anyone else who happened to possess a Y chromosome.
I walked away also doubting myself - was I reading too much into that?
The question I kept coming back to was: Would he have said any of that to a man?

This type of thing - not this exact situation, but little comments or situations that are ever-so-slightly discriminatory -  is not at all uncommon. 
Stories get passed around at our weekly happy hours. I won't be so audacious as to call them war stories, but for privileged white girls who (fingers crossed) won't have to face the draft, office buildings and law firms are our Yorktown in the revolution against crusty old men who just need to die or retire already.

I'm working at that law firm because F*** Bitches, Get Money, amiright?
But really, I needed some income. #paycheck>principles

So this one goes out to some of my favorite lady lawyers:
>>Ainsley Hayes
In the first of her far-too-few appearances on the West Wing, Ainsley is shown absolutely owning the cute boy (on live TV, no less) after being wholly underestimated by his entire political party. 
A brainy, conservative, socially awkward blonde? HI, KINDRED SPIRIT.
Ainsley would agree with me: the feminist movement is inane and embarrassing, but we (occasionally) still need to wave that banner.

>>Elle Woods
Elle did it for a boy. And then she did it for herself. That is realistic & inspiring.

There are lots of lessons to be learned from Legally Blonde:
Don't write people off based on first impressions. Or second impressions. 
Get your motivation from yourself.
Exercise prevents prison sentences. 

And a lesson I'm in the process of learning:
>>Margaret Thatcher
Asses kicked by the Iron Lady: communism, inflation, government spending, Argentina. 
All while raising twins. 
>>Honorable Mention: C.J. Cregg & Donna (from Suits)
While not a lawyer, C.J. Cregg was close enough to the law to count. She handled being White House Press Secretary with wit and stood up to the President a time or two. I support it.

And Donna is my lady love.
For the record: I am nothing like Miranda. Gross. 
To summarize: 

May we all become the lawyers our parents hoped we'd marry,

Sunday, March 6, 2016

We Found [No] Love in a Hopeless Place

It's been a while...again. I've been going through some shit. I normally try not to gratuitously curse, but it's not gratuitous. Everything is awful, terrible, cry-your-eyes-out shit.

But it's made my sense of humor darker (if possible) so there's always a silver lining, right?

I never wanted to blog about my relationship. It seemed too jinx-y and intimate. But luckily, I'm not in a relationship anymore. 😐
Note: This may seem inappropriately soon and make it appear like the relationship didn't mean anything to me. If only you knew. Humor is Stages 1-5 of my 5-stage grief management process. So shut your stupid mouth.
Breakups are hard. Breakups in law school defy description. This is how I've been surviving: 

Law School Breakup Survival Kit
>> Seating Charts
All the law school prep books recommend against sitting next to your significant other in class. I understand that now. On the bright side, it gives us a chance to chat that we probably wouldn't take otherwise + forced interaction may be the best way to push past this and be friends. (Like, actual friends. It's possible, damnit.)

As Donna Meagle says, "Wine is crying juice." And she is far from wrong. 

>> Terrible-wonderful food
There's an ancient San Antonian remedy that is said to cure nearly anything: chips and salsa. One of the few exceptions to this panacea: obesity. I've been doing a lot of emotional eating recently. Like...too much. I'm basically ensuring that I will never find anyone else unless I go on one of those gross fetish dating sites for chubby chasers. But it's helping to numb the pain in my heart...unless that's just the feeling of my arteries clogging. 

>> Distractions
To attempt to counteract the assault I've been launching on my bod via grief grub, I've maintained my gym schedule. I've also doubled down on work for school, requested extra tasks for journal, and started some recreational reading. I spend a lot of time in the sub-basement at school (which is just as cheery as it sounds) because I get more accomplished when my surroundings reflect my mood + there are people nearby. Literally anything to keep my mind off of the tragic void that is my life.

>> Television
Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Video. Another distraction technique. I'm now involved in approximately 18 television shows. I'm living vicariously through fictional characters. I think I'm handling this breakup in a completely healthy manner, right?

>> Really fantastic friends who let you cry in public without judgment
Or if they are judging, they don't say anything. And that's just as nice. Nail salons, bars, restaurants, the parking lot of the law school--there really isn't a place that is off-limits to my emotions. But really, my friends have been great. I'm working harder on socializing, so that can be the good thing that comes out of this...I guess. 

In all honesty, I'm going to be okay. Don't read this as a cry for help. I'm currently wallowing in my sorrows with relish. It turns out I'm super good at mourning. We all have our skill set. 

Thursday, December 24, 2015

My Grown-Up Christmas List

Sorry for my absence, once again. 1L year I liked to distract myself from my misery by blogging, and (surprise, surprise) that had a negative affect on my grades. So, much to the detriment of anyone who still reads this nonsense, le blog took a backseat to school (ugh) and it looks like it's paying off! Yay me! And now I've finally recovered enough from finals fever to actually appreciate Christmas and whatnot. (Fear not; I'm still somewhat of a humbug. Why else would you be reading?)
In high school, I was super into choir, and went so far as to do show choir and take voice lessons with a private instructor. Every Christmas, my voice teacher would have a little concert for her private students, and every Christmas, someone would sing "My Grown Up Christmas List." I apologize to anyone who feels differently, but that song is one of the worst Christmas songs ever written. It ranks up there with Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas", Justin Bieber's "Mistletoe", and any version of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus."

Exhibit A: The Chorus

No more lives torn apart,
And wars would never start,
And time would heal all hearts.
And every one would have a friend,
And right would always win,
And love would never end
This is my grown-up Christmas list.

I mean, seriously...

At least I'm honest about my materialism and Scrooginess in My Grown-up Christmas List:
>>Infinite Wine
Shouldn't this be on everybody's Christmas list, though? Don't act like you're better than me. 

>>A Job After Lawl School
Life is expensive, and the only way I get through it is by telling myself that I'll be able to buy all of the pretty things after law school. I've built it up so much that I can't really afford (ha!) to think about the depression spiral I'll go through if I don't actually get a job for a while. 

>>Time and Energy 
Adulting is stressful and tiring. You all feel me on this one. 

>>Fewer People in Existence
While I feel this way about 90% of the time, I fully realize it at Christmastime. People are everywhere, and they are rude. They're all carrying a million bags and are too stupid and oblivious and mean to worry about not hitting people with them. Or they stop in the middle of a walkway without considering the people they may be blocking. Or they walk so slowly that they're basically going backward. 

A large woman shoved me in Sephora yesterday. I'm done with everyone. 

>>The End of the Kardashians and Everything that Came From Them: Contouring, Waist Trainers, STDs Probably
They are the literal worst. 

Contouring is basically paint-by-number camouflage. It is the push-up bra of makeup. My boyfriend can't tell the difference between me with and without makeup. Which makes me simultaneously sad and gratified, but mostly gratified. 

Didn't feminists decide that corsets are woman-hating and patriarchal and conforming to a man-centered idea of desirability? Not to mention all of the spine and organ problems associated with corsets. WHY HAS THIS COME BACK?

And now they've released those stupid Kimojis and I just don't know why they're trying to ruin everything for me. 

Also, I don't think I'm too off-base by wondering if the Kardashians have evolved their own strain of crabs. 

>> And the Usual, Obviously

And now I have to start blowing up a giant gold swan because what else do you get to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior?

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Not a Thing

They weren't lying about 2L year; I'm feeling worked to death. 
My motto for this year: Those who can't do, teach. Those who tried teaching and hated it, volunteer for everything. So I may have signed up for a few too many things and now I'm overwhelmed. In addition to making me super busy and stressed, participating in a lot of things means interacting with a lot of people. 

And we know how I feel about that. 
I have found myself saying under my breath, with more and more frequency, "That's not a thing." By which I mean: whatever you are saying is not real life. Or at least it shouldn't be. 

A few things that are not actually things:

>> Turning on your hazards whenever you please

A couple of weeks ago, I was in court in a suburb of Houston and it conveniently started epic-flooding just in time for me to drive home. The highway was flooding, so everyone was going slower than slow. But one fellow traveler was going even slower and thought that putting his hazards on would excuse this fact. Like no one else was aware of the torrential downpour. 
I've seen this in even less permissible situations, too. I watched someone answer their phone while driving on the highway, slow down to 40 mph, and switch on their hazards. Nope. Not a thing. 

>> "Sexy" Halloween costumes
I've been perusing the Halloween costume sites looking for inspiration for the mermaid costume I'm making, so the slutty costumes are all starting to run together. But a few stick out in my mind. 

Sexy Gnome: like, why? Gnomes are unsexy, by nature. Who saw a garden gnome and thought that anything sexy could come of it?
Sexy Minion: This was a children's movie. You need therapy and Jesus. 

Sexy Checkered Flag: This must be a joke. The description says something along the lines of, "Watch the men race to get to you first!" Watch me lap everyone on my way to vomit from the stupidity. 
As creeped out and curious I am about this whole thing, Men of the Internet, please do not explain your awful fetishes to me in an attempt to mitigate the situation. Please. 

Side Note: Also not a thing? Paying more for what equates to Halloween lingerie.
$75 for underwear?? I sound like a grandmother right now. Whatever. The real costume (as in, more fabric. as in, more product) costs $68. Still too much, in my opinion, but still. BUT STILL. Yikes.

>> Anything from American Apparel
This is a skirt, guys. A SKIRT. Never has there been a more ridiculous company. Their stupidity is suggested by the clothing they manufacture, and cemented by the inclusion of pubic hair on their mannequins. The fact that people shop there in real life is mind-boggling. Reevaluate yourselves. 

>> Personality tests
Literally all science ever shows that these mean nothing. But I remain an INTJ, forever and always. I just found a new one (ironically called the DOPE test) that tells you what bird you are, based on Myers-Briggs-type questions. White girls eat this stuff up.

We might as well give up on trying to make an all-inclusive, classless society, because white girls will continue taking Buzzfeed quizzes that tell us which Chanel-from-Scream-Queens we are (I'm #5, duh). Sorry, socialism, but if I'm more Taylor Swift and she's more Ed Sheeran, she can't sit with me. 

Things that are definitely things:
ABC Family's upcoming 13 Days of Halloween, acoustic covers of rap songs (I'm going through a phase), and my inability to care about classes this year. 

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Welcome to Law-Law-Land

I don't know why this one has been so hard to write. Wrapping up 1L year, starting an internship, and filling my weekends with travel + training has wiped me of all creativity and comedy. I'm currently laid up in bed, covered in the most heinous-looking mosquito bites ever seen, high on my own special type of purple drank (Benadryl + red wine because a girl's gotta get her Peeno Noir Midsize Car on), so I figured now is as good a time as any to overcome my writer's block.

Finishing 1L, I finally feel like this whole law school thing is actually happening. As we all know, I don't have the greatest track record with sticking with real life decisions. (If I ever say that I'm going to teach at a law school, shoot me.) A year down and $50,000 of Uncle Sam's Monopoly money, and I guess I will fully commit to this thing. So here are some things I learned from my first year in this hellhole:

>> Be afraid. Be very afraid. 
There are too many reasons to be afraid of law school. (1) Lawyers are terrible. Future lawyers are even worse. These people are just asshats. Asshats who will wield a fair amount of power in the future. (2) Doing poorly is bad, but doing well is also kinda sucky because then you have all sorts of commitments like Law Review and whatnot. I wouldn't know. (3) At the end of this, there's THE BAR.

>> Summertime sadness.
Class is finished, exams are over, and now you get 3 long months of relaxation. 
Apparently, law school summers mean working full-time (often for free or academic credit, which you can't even exchange for wine WTH AMERICA) and also probably taking a class because who needs free time after 9 months of terrible?? You spent a good portion of spring semester searching for a summer internship and you got one! Yay! Rest on those laurels, right? Except now you have to spend your summer searching for a fall internship. It never ends.

>> Hydrate.
Shout out to the one who's been there for me through all the tough times: WINE.
But water has been my savior this past year. Bored at work? Drink a ton of water and then you have an excuse to get up and walk around every so often. Don't want to get called on in class? Drink a ton of water and you have an excuse to get up and walk around every so often.

>> I am way underqualified. for everything. but so is everyone else.
I have zero skillz to offer law firms. I don't really think that feeling goes away. As someone who constantly underestimates herself, I anticipate feeling ill-prepared and unqualified until the day I die. If you are ever a future client of mine, I apologize.

But having taken classes all year with a bunch of future lawyers, let me tell you: avoid legal trouble. at least I only think that I'm un(der)qualified; I know for a fact that many of these people (who will eventually pass THE BAR) are stupid as hell. so seriously, avoid having to hire one of these idiots.

>> professional school =/= professionalism
Oh, how I miss the "drama" at UD. I thought that was bad. law school is what I imagine high school was like for people who peaked in high school. except with a ton more stress and a lot less parental supervision. 

These people don't seem to understand how judgmental I am and how long my memory is. You may think that, 10 years from now, I'll be able to see you at happy hour and not recall your drunken lesbian hook-up with a section-mate on Halloween, but think again. Think again.

>> Embrace the douche
Law students are the absolute worst. I include myself in that. But let us have this. Because the job market sucks, we'll be slaving away for the next 50 years to pay off loans, and everybody already hates us. Embracing the douche ("climbing down" as Jack Donaghy would say) just makes us feel better about these super-iffy choices we've made in our lives.

I had a bunch more things I learned. I promise. But I just finished a super hard workout + it's a million degrees outside + lots and lots of wine. My brain is done.
P.S. My mom has been repeatedly requesting another blog post, so I'm hoping that this will spur her to deposit a little something-something into my bank account. Preferably before I have to pay rent again. Because I may not be able to. #nomoneymoproblems