Sheezus

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?
Nope. 
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.

PLOT TWIST!
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,

Dobby is a Free Elf

Okay, so…

       

They announced during a meeting that I would be training for a new (harder) position, 

but never confirmed it with me first. 

In fact, we've spoken about this before

and I said no to changing jobs

(a bold move, I'm aware, but I really don't want this position). 

Apparently, my desires are no longer valid. 

They just decided to move me

and didn't say anything about a pay raise or whatnot.

Also, a coworker accidentally laughed when I told her how much they pay me. 

Also, six people quit or were fired last week.  

Also, I would be leaving soon anyway

because I'm moving home before law school.

Also, I've been trying to quit for months now.

Also, this job is the worst.  

So I'm out.

Being completely unable to make decisions by myself,

this has had me absolutely stressed.

 

I wrote this post

and then called my mom for the 5th time today (literally)

to ask if we were completely sure. 

She didn't answer (do you think she's getting annoyed?), 

so I'm making a unilateral decision, 

which is making my eye twitch and my stomach cramp. 

But I am relieved. 

How relieved, you ask?

This relieved:

I could go on, but I think you get it.

And I'm in a much better headspace than I was for the last period of unemployment. 

This one ends in law school and a path to money & security. 

Last time, there was no path. 

Only a scary forest of hopelessness and job applications

ending with the cliffs of despair. 

So while I didn't make it to the end of Lent, as was my intention, 

I survived 10 months. 

Is there a support group I can join?

Death and Taxes

If you're keeping up, I'm not very good at posting regularly. 

Real life gets in the way, man. 

Last week, it was the realest of life: taxes. 

In an effort to complete my FAFSA for school in the fall (WHAT), 

I realized that I needed my tax return. 

Which meant i needed to do my taxes. 

Mother suggested that I just get it done and over with right then. 

I laughed because I thought she was kidding. 

Aren't there people to do that for me?

But I put on my adult hat and psyched myself up--

and whined the entire time.

(And wined the entire time.)

 In all actuality, TurboTax is a Godsend

and made it pretty easy. 

But when you have 4 W-2s for the 2013 tax year, 

everything is stupid. 

If there were a contest for number of jobs held in one year, 

I would win. 

If there were a contest for longevity at one job, 

I would lose miserably. 

I don't want to talk about it. 

What made it even more difficult was the knowledge that

most of my clients at work haven't filed their taxes for the past 5+ years

simply because they don't want their money taken away. 

And those who do file, usually end up getting refunds of $2000+. 

Let's do the math:

~$454/week in unemployment

+

~$347/month in food stamps

+

~$2000/year in tax refund

=

ME BEING SO DONE WITH THEM.

Next year, instead of filing taxes, 

I'm filing bankruptcy. 

Apparently, it's the new get-rich-quick scheme. 

The Day the Internets Died

First they came for the cell phones, 

and I did not speak out--

Because I could sneak it in my pocket. 

Then they came for the purses,

and I did not speak out--

Because I could hide it in my desk.

Then they came for the internet, 

and I did not speak out--

Because I thought I could function without it.

Then they came for me--

and there was no one left to speak for me

because we all died of boredom. 

--a la Pastor Martin Niemoller

Boss Lady just announced that she will get notifications 

whenever we go to a website that's not approved for work. 

I could barely understand what I was reading, 

due to the blood rushing through my ears and the tightening of my chest. 

That email was like a death knell.

My first week of work, they told us that we couldn't carry our cell phones. 

It was "for our protection" because our clientele is trashy and steals stuff. 

They installed lockers during my first month. 

We were no longer allowed to keep our purses or any other personal items

with us in our offices. 

Again, they cited the "our own protection" reason. 

Now they have taken my internets. 

This is a step too far. 

As Obama would say, 

"I didn't set a red line. [My boss] set a red line."

That's how they get you. 

They gradually increase limitations "for your protection"

until one day, you wake up, and personal liberty is gone. 

MY LIFE IS A METAPHOR FOR THE CURRENT STATUS OF OUR COUNTRY.

Watch yourselves.

We can't even check our email. 

I lived for G-chat. 

Contact with the outside world was the only way I got through my day. 

I read the news. 

How is that a bad thing?

It's not my fault I'm an awesome multi-tasker. 

Also, it's a scientific fact that listening to background music

improves work/school performance. 

Taking these things away from me is detrimental to everyone involved.

And those of you who claim to be "too busy" at work to do personal things, 

I call bull. 

You at least pull up good ole FB on your phone a few times a day. 

Also, you probably have co-workers with whom you can hold a conversation. 

If I wanted to know the best place to buy hoop earrings I could fit my fist through, 

or hear a theory about how all humans are descended from different alien races, 

I would talk to my co-workers. 

But we went through those conversations a while back

(Forever 21 & the alien thing gets uninteresting after the first time), 

so I sit in my office with nothing to do. 

I've been a month ahead in my work for 4 months now. 

That's as far forward as it's possible to work. 

I'm done. 

I finished. 

Is there a prize?

Web-savvy folk, is this a thing she can do?

Is there such technology?

Obvi, NSA has it, but does my boss?

At this point, I feel like my only option is to turn into V for Vendetta. 

Listen for the orchestra, people. 

I'm With Stupid

I am going to fail out of law school.

I haven't even started, but I know this to be true.

My brain does a weirdly good job of retaining trivia, 

but isn't so great at keeping all the smart stuff in. 

I won celebrity bankruptcy trivia at work

(exactly what it sounds like: trivia about celebrities who've gone bankrupt), 

and I did so well that my boss asked me if I cheated. 

But ask me about the historical novel I'm currently reading, 
and I got nothing. 
I can tell you the basic idea, but I don't remember any details. 
I can tell you, however, that George Clooney is starring in the movie version. 

I once vividly described an episode of Hart of Dixie

during a conversation with Tessabelle.
I can even picture what the main characters were wearing, 
mostly because everyone dresses super cute on that show.

Quiz me on philosophy. 
Actually, please don't. 
It would be embarrassing. 
I could probably muddle my way through a conversation, 
but only by way of that going-off-of-what-smarter-people-just-said thing. 
I hate myself for doing that, but it's a survival skill.

Frequently, I feign less trivial knowledge of Harry Potter

because I don't want to look like a creep.
In reality, my HP skillz could earn me a position as Hogwartz headmaster. 

My brain senses true knowledge coming towards it

and puts up a deflector shield.

But pointless trivia?

Soaks that stuff up like the vapid little sponge it is.

Thus, this sad, terrible bankruptcy firm is my hey-day. 
This is the last time I will feel superior to anyone. 
The last time I will be surrounded by comparatively stupider people. 
I do not treasure it while in the midst of it, 
but I will look back at these days with fondness. 

Mary Angela and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Today has been a day. 

I got to work and was immediately yelled at for not doing something

that I actually did a month ago. 

(My office is the definition of competent.)

 My time-off request still hadn't been approved after nearly two weeks.

Construction workers were simultaneously 

jack hammering and power-washing right outside my window.

My "sensitive" co-worker cried in her office and went home early.

I only had one cup of coffee this morning. 
AND I had to drink it with regular milk, instead of my usual hazelnut creamer. 
Just the worst. 

Days like this call for a survival kit:

A Nebuchadnezzar of wine // I don't want to sound greedy, but that's how much it would take to de-stress at this point. Also, these names are super cool. I only want to drink wine by the "Methuselah". 

Warby Parker Welty glasses // I adore my specs, especially after a long, headache-inducing day. The last thing I want to do is stress the ole eyeballs while viewing the latest Downton. 

Decision-making toolkit // Nobody wants to make difficult decisions after a hard day. I am notorious in my family for being unable to make even the smallest of decisions. On road trips, 

we would spend way too long in gas stations waiting for me to pick a snack. 

Chips & queso // Maybe it's being from San Antonio, but large quantities of melted cheese can solve most problems. 

Harry Potter // Any book, most movie. Although, I might get sad again when I come to the realization (for the millionth time) that HP isn't real life. 

Shoes // I insist that a beautiful pair of "shiny ponies" could be a panacea for all the world's problems. Hitler was probs just angry that his shoes were so ugly (kiddingggggg). 


The best I can do right now is a bag of honey mustard pretzels & 
a pirated copy of Order of the Phoenix + my glasses because my head already hurts. 
But let's be real, 
I am absolutely fine settling for that. 

8 Signs I'm the Most "Traditional" Person in My Office

I was going to entitle this something different, 
but both my editor (aka Tess who brainstorms with me) and my mother 
voiced some uncertainty. 
And because I was raised with those inconvenient traditional values, 
I still sometimes respect my mother, 
even when she's wrong. 
JKJK, Mamacita.

My standards of class in the workplace may not be yours.
Get over it.

1. I've never filed for bankruptcy with our bankruptcy firm

I harp on this a lot. 

But I find it ridiculous and kind of unbelievable 

that people came to file for bankruptcy

and left with a job AND having filed for bankruptcy.

WHAT.

2. I don't talk about sex

This blog administration is committed to complete transparency.
(Let's see if I can do better than Obama. The bar is loooooooow.)

As such, here's some embarrassment:

Remember that time I invented the fake boyfriend

to get that guy at work off my back?

Well, that lie has come back to bite me. 

Fairly often, someone asks about my sham beau 

and implies that they hope I'm doing "everything I can" to make him happy.

And when I say "implies", I mean

they directly ask me if I need to go to Victoria's Secret for my man.

EW.

I regret everything. Lesson learned, God. 

And everyone talks about hooking up and whatnot.
Sorry that I have an active imagination
and your comments leave me visualizing your 38-year old naked body.
If you ever see me grimace for no reason, 
that is why.

 

3. My workwear doesn't show any tattoos
I don't have any tattoos. 
But if I were to get one, 
it would be in a discreet location 
that would make no one the wiser. 
Wrist, calf/shin, back of the neck, bicep, forearm...
there is an endless list of all the stupid places these people have tattooed. 

4. I'm one of the few who doesn't have a baby daddy + out-of-wedlock child(ren)

Yes, I applaud them for having the baby.

And, personally, I am against birth control

so I don't use it and behave like a rational human being

(what up, Aristotle).
Obviously, I wish that everyone would agree with me on this, 
but, despite my belief in the Loch Ness Monster & a second season of Firefly, 
I'm a realist.
What's that old saying?
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, maybe I should get my tubes tied.
I know it's difficult, but mabes practice some self-control
or visit a clinic or something.
Figure it out.

Also, I know people who have gotten themselves into this sort of situation.
I don't fault them anything.
But they exhibited the proper "my bad" emotion
& changed their behavior
& most even married the guy.
These lovely ladies at work didn't learn their lesson
& still find themselves experiencing that "late" panic every few months.
And they talk about it with me.
Ugh. 

5. I have never said anything about "using it" in reference to going to the ladiez room
No explanation needed. 
I don't talk about this. 
Ever. 

6. I don't have 3-inch fake nails covered in glitter

Yikes. 

7. I don't walk around the office with an e-cigarette

Everyone in my office smokes. 
Having gone to a university in which people feel fancy
smoking while discussing Descartes, 
it didn't reeeeally bother me.
The e-cigs do. 
They're stupid as hell. 
Also, most of my co-workers use the e-cig to smoke in the office
and still go outside for real smoke breaks.
THAT'S DEFEATING THE PURPOSE.

8. I don't make everyone uncomfortable by talking about my personal affairs
I am extremely sympathetic to your plight, 
but talking about the miscarriage you are suffering RIGHT NOW
in a crowded office is absolutely not okay.
Especially when you have no significant other
and haven't for a few months now.
It makes me all judgmental.

The royal side-eye x 3. Did the person they were judging just crumple into dust?

Also, any mention of your abusive ex-husband is uncomfortable.
Even talking about your current "soul search" is weird for me.
You're 40+ years old. 
If you haven't found yourself by now, you never will.
And if you tell me one more time that you cried the whole way home
because of an "argument" we had, 
I will make you cry right here in the office.
Also, please don't confide in me that you think you're pregnant. 
You're not. 
That's called "the change" and I won't have any talk of it. 

Is it too much to ask for an office environment
where I know the bare minimum about my co-workers
(name, general age, job title maybe) 
and nothing else?

Bless me, Mother, for I have shopped.

What the what. 

I woke up to snow today.

Except it's really malicious ice masquerading as pleasantly soft snow.

But still. 

Work at the law firm was canceled, 

so I had one choice:

stay inside like a sane person or venture out onto the frozen tundra?

Obviously, there was adventure to be had.

Becca and I planned on DARTing to Mockingbird Station, 

but after we skidded & stomped all the way to the nearest DART stop, 

we realized the trains weren't going today. 

We were not happy campers. 

Like the stupid girls we are, we didn't let a silly thing like

black ice covering all the roads stop us from our shopping.

Becca drove.

We got there in one piece, 

but our bravery made us foolhardy and we then drove to NorthPark. 

Again, we're fine,

other than our ability to make rational decision. 

But

I might be nearing the end of my tenure at Anthro. 

It's taking such a toll on me, physically & budgetally, 

that I just need to stop. 

The thought of losing my discount frightened me, 

and I panic-shopped. 

Also, I had had some whiskey, so I was tipsy-shopping, as well.

The combination was both ruinous and fantastic.

I have a habit of calling my mom after I spend (what I think is) a lot of money.

I can be pretty cheap, but every now and again I go crazy.

Anthro brings out the crazy in me. 

Today, my mom said that she feels like my confessor. 

Except instead of giving me penance, my mother only gives absolution. 

She's a terrible influence.

Hopefully, with the end of Anthro comes a return to my frugal ways. 

I kind of don't have any other option.

Pray for my soul/bank account?

I've already made plans to pull my life together tomorrow, if work is canceled. 

If it's not canceled, then I guess I have an excuse for my life still being a mess?

The title of this blog post is sacrilegious. 

I apologize.