The terrible horrible no good very bad day.

By the numbers:

2am time I woke up with the world's fastest landing supercold
6:45 time this morning my sister's flight arrived from SF
8:20 time my sister got to my apartment because of traffic and a crazy cabbie
9:30 time I was supposed to be in court
9:50 time I got to court
50 number of tissues I went through before 10 am
90 degrees in New York City
25 number of lbs my head feels like it weighs b/c of all the snot
3 number of times the tears began to flow at work
2 number of times I passed those tears off as sinus related
1 number of times I was thankfully outside when the tears flowed
5 number of different subway rides I had to take today
2 number of subways that actually moved for more than a minute at a time
7 days for extension to file habeas brief (the only good thing today)
3 hours in which I have to write another reply memo tomorrow
1 box of tissues I went through today at my desk
6 times my sister called me because she couldn't find something in the apartment
3 number of emails from Boss #1 from court where he's on trial within the span of an hour regarding research needed asap
50 copay at doctor's office
10 days to take Zithromax to kill the sickness

1 day left in the week. Thank God.

I've broken a new barrier.

I left work at 9pm.

The habeas brief is due on Friday. I barely have a draft done.

Bosses are still on trial. Which means phone calls from both the highly important and utterly idiotic are falling to me.

I don't get paid enough for this shit.

I really want some pie.

Waitress was one of the sweetest movies I've seen in quite some time. A quiet, simple, human story with no pretense. Just smiles with tinges of sadness.

Didn't do any work today either.

Breathing.

For what feels like the first time in weeks.

Some research needs to get done this weekend for a habeas brief, but it's not happening today. Today, I went running in the hot hot sun, bought some overpriced produce and scandalously good dark chocolate at Whole Foods, and am now vegging out 110% in front of the TV and air conditioner.

I made tentative plans for tonight, but I think I'm gonna be a hermit and continue the status quo. My couch has missed me.

Oh, I DID chat with some of the L&O crew last night when I got home from work at frickin 8:30, but alas, Detective Stabler et al. had already moved to a different area. If I had gotten home earlier I would have seen them. Curses.

I really need a hair cut. It's been about 5 months, which is clearly ridiculous. Too bad Manhattan salons charge nearly a down payment on a condo for snipping off a bunch of dead follicles.

One more bit of randomness. I find it completely infuckingcredible that I've been out of school for a year. Seriously. Being an adult is not so much fun as...well, laborious and confusing and hilarious and worrisome and thrilling and claustrophobic and uncertain and lonely and smothering and ludicrous, all at the same time. There, I'm done.

Dun dun.

Ya'll. I'm so excited. I came home bleary eyed and pissy with my mind racing a hundred miles an hour, and what do I find in my mailbox and posted on the lobby wall?

"Attention Residents: On Friday May 25, 2007 between 12pm and 4am, the 9th season of Law and Order: SVU will be filming outside of our building and in the surrounding area. Parking bans will be in effect beginning Thursday at 8am in order to allow NBC Universal crew vehicles to set up their equipment."

Ok, it sucks for people who have to move their cars, but who has a car in Manhattan? Stupid people, so I don't care. I've seen them filming downtown outside the courthouses (although those steps you always see McCoy & Co. walking down are the steps to federal court or state civil court because the Manhattan criminal court building is, let's just say, old). I don't know exactly how I'm gonna pull it off, but I WILL somehow interject myself into this event.

"I'm a criminal defense lawyer in case you need any technical advisors."

"Who wouldn't want this adorable pup on camera?"

"My place is right in there..."

Ok, not the last one, but something's gonna happen. I can feel it. This could be my big break. Why wouldn't they want a Winnie Cooper/Angie Harmon look-alike who's a real lawyer??

In other life-meets-TV happenings, I literally ran into three unbelievably attractive sailors (dressed in uniform) on my way out of my office building. I was, as noted above, pissy and fumbling with my bag, Ipod, and files, and hit one of them smack in the chest. He was oh-so-gracious and flirty and charming, but after a few minutes of chatting, they failed to invite me to a big Fleet Week party like they invited Carrie Bradshaw in the episode where she danced to that awesome Al Green version of Can't Get Next To You. Sigh. I'm hoping they didn't invite me because they were gay. They were definitely too pretty to be straight.

And now, after my requisite glass of wine, should I turn to my old friend Westlaw or watch the season finale of Lost? They'll both be there tomorrow. Although the judge's deadline won't have budged. A conundrum indeed.

Blogging instead of working...

Andy chose Tessa! Wohoo!

Ok. In other news, today went relatively well. Could have been much worse. Could have been a little better. The judge kept hurrying us along, not really wanting to listen to some of the testimony that I thought was key. But I got a fair amount of testimony out from the witnesses, so it's ok. The judge will mail his written decision, so I just have to wait. But I'm nervous.

But then, at the end of the day, when I was leaving the office at 7:15 after non-stop mini-crises all day, I got it. Praise! The gist of which was: "We're just so busy right now, and I know we're putting a lot of stuff on you. We're really pleased with your work, so thank you. Now go home and take your dog out."

Um, phew.

Cheers

Congrats to all law school grads out there this weekend. The hard part's over.

(Actually, that's a lie, but you'll realize that soon enough. Or, as soon as BarBri starts.)

Just think, in a year, you could be like me: drafting direct and cross outlines in her apartment on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon worrying about whether certain hearsay exceptions apply to so-called "less formal" arbitration proceedings and how to not look like an inexperienced buffoon.

In the meantime, enjoy the graduation gifts (hopefully fat checks from relatives who couldn't make it to the ceremony), dinners with family, inappropriate or boring speeches, introducing your favorite professors to your parents, and, if you happen to be so lucky, free cheap champagne at the post-ceremony reception.

Detox Runs

6 miles later, I think I sweated it all out. That last champagne toast was the kicker. You know you're dehydrated when you wake up twice during middle of the night with cramps in your calves so disarmingly painful you have to bite your pillow.

Now, starting later than I had planned (not surprisingly at all), it's time to work. I have witnesses to cross-examine and an arbitrator to convince on Tuesday. Eeeek.

Cynics Unite

I was devastated after the 1989 Exxon Valdez oil spill. I remember crying at the pictures of the dying seagulls drowning in black sludge on TV. Our class "adopted a whale" to save - we raised money, sent letters, and spread awareness, at least as much as a second grade class could.

I have a distinct memory of sitting in school, listening to Mrs. Rouche explain what happened to make all of these animals die. I raised my hand and asked, "Why wasn't the company more careful? This is serious!"

Yeah, I was an old soul.

Anyway, this article brought this memory to mind today. Things are still serious! And the people in charge need to stop behaving like alcoholic ship captains.

Thank you, Palladinos.

Who cried as the camera panned out on our girls in Luke's diner in the same way as the pilot episode? Me. I cried.

Even though you weren't around for the last (somewhat crappy) season, The Gilmore Girls was in fact one of the best and most under-rated shows on television. Lauren Graham's lack of Emmys will be an eternal scandal. And we all wished we lived in Stars Hollow. Even the most cynical and jaded among us. Actually, especially us.

Thank goodness for reruns.

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This deserves its own post, but it's late and there's no way it's eclipsing the importance of the series finale of GG, but here it is. To quote one of my peeps:

"With a few exceptions, I mourn the loss of all human life. This is one of those exceptions."

RIP motherfucker.

The OH CRAP Email

We've all done it. Fine, maybe you haven't. But as of today, I have. And it was kinda bad.

I hit the "send" button, and a milisecond later, the Oh crap surfaced upon my lips. See, I simply forgot that although I was sending this email to two individuals, I had been forwarded the previous string of emails by one of those people, and her forwarded message to me had included some...ahem...not entirely flattering or appropriate for public discussion (even though still within the confines of our family) details about the other person. Yet, I was expected to email them both regarding an upcoming event for which my travel schedule was needed, and so...I simply replied to the email and cc'd the other person! And now she is free to read what was not meant for her eyes. Although, whatever, it just says that she's doing BETTER because she's been in THERAPY and has been less SELFISH lately and really wants me to COME to this surprise party. So there. It's positive. I'm sure she'll be happy.

Yeah. Oops.

May Day.

Remember how I said today wouldn't be fun? It's not fun.

But yesterday was. I got a tan, an awesome little sun dress, and a six hour buzz.

And now I'm lying disheveled on my couch surrounded by papers with the blue and white glow of Westlaw guiding me through the day and probably night.

P.S. Call your mom.

Halleluja.

I screamed a little at my desk yesterday when I read this. It absolutely made my week.

Boss #1 is starting a huge trial starting this coming week, and I have been buried with last minute research questions to get certain testimony in, keep certain testimony out, make experts look bad, make other experts look good, and I'm no where near done with any of it. And I still haven't begun working on the case for which I'm handling an arbitration hearing on May 22.

So, I really have to work this weekend. Which translates into waking up at 9:30, going for a run now, and meeting friends at 1:30 for window shopping and al fresce drinking at a wine bar in the East Village.

Tomorrow is gonna be so fun.

Still? Really?

When I was younger, and The Wonder Years was big, perfect strangers (remember that show?! Balkie!!) always used to tell me I looked like Winnie Cooper. Hair dressers, checkout people, etc. At least once a week between the ages of 8 and 14 I got a Winnie Cooper reference.

Eventually the name-calling stopped (half the people who signed my 8th grade year book wrote "Dear Winnie") and I thought I was in the clear. I never knew what to say about the comments because I always thought she was just a normal looking girl, and while most early adolescent girls want to be considered "normal", I was sure I was far more special than boring little Winnie Cooper.

And so today, more than a decade since the last Winnie Cooper reference (unless you count the period when my sister's friend dated Fred Savage at Stanford for about 5 minutes), I got hit with it. By a court reporter. Who was giving me odd looks throughout the three hour deposition we were in today. At its conclusion, when everyone was packing up to leave, Mr. Court Reporter snapped his fingers exclaiming, "I got it! Winnie Cooper! That's who you remind me of!"

I guess we can't escape our destiny.

Summer in the city.

It hit 82 degrees in New York City today, and yet somehow, the good people who maintain at least one of the courthouses thought it wise to KEEP THE HEAT ON. Needless to say, hotheaded criminal defendants were not the only ones who had to be told multiple times to calm down and control their tempers. I was a little surprised there were no lawyer-on-lawyer riots.

Work. Untitled.

I didn't actually do any work today. I wasn't hungover. But my brain power on always seems to be pretty much sapped once I get about midway through the Sunday Times. I spent the rest of the day on the couch, watching TV and dozing periodically.

It's gonna be another week of 10 hour days. I know that's not much for a lot of lawyers, but I'm far from making six figures, and I just don't have the drive to work so hard without without (and here's what I've been struggling with the last few weeks) some acknowledgment from my bosses that I'm doing a good job.

My workload is increasing by the day. I have a motion due on Wednesday, numerous discovery responses to get out by Thursday, and depositions Thursday and Friday. And when it's all done and I'm staring blankly out of my window on Friday afternoon, I hope to start work on what needs to be done for my first "mini-trial" on May 22 (the file for which I haven't looked at yet).

It sounds like I'm complaining about the work itself. I'm not - most, of course not all, of it is interesting and complex. What I'm complaining about is that I barely get any praise. Positive feedback is important. Especially for a young person in a competitive career field. I'm not asking for confetti and balloons. Just "nice job on X" would suffice.

I didn't realize this was why I've been feeling so crappy lately until I read this. I don't agree with everything she says, but the part about desiring specific content-based feedback rings true. I don't know if lawyers are bad managers in general, or if because I work in a small firm my bosses aren't as experienced in mentoring people as they should be.

I've come to realize a job is like a relationship (not that I'm any sort of expert on those either). You put in a lot of work, time, energy, etc. You get some amount of reward - money and otherwise. But at some point, you may begin to feel like what you're putting in isn't being appreciated. And then you sit down with the other side, and talk about it. That's where I am. I just don't know what the hell to say without sounding like a needy little girl.

In happier employment news, a big shout out to Grace, who landed her dream job. Yay!

It's 3am. I had two glasses of wine before we got to the bar, a gin and tonic and another glass of wine at the bar, and am now downing water and munching on cereal. Good time overall, some flirting and semi-inappropriate groping by a friend's co-worker occurred, and business cards were exchanged. Although knowing my track record, nothing will come of it.

I'm gonna hate myself tomorrow when I have to do work for staying up this late.

Very occasionally, justice really is served.

I will post more later (I've had a week full of reflection and epiphanies), but for now, I had to widen the awareness of the awesomeness. No I'm sorry, no rehab stints, no probation, no fines. Just pure old fashioned orange jumpsuits for the world's biggest waste of oxygen.

Tick tock.

It's 8:45pm. I just got home from the gym (could barely get up in time for work this morning for some reason), showered, am heating up some leftovers, and have poured myself a glass of wine. I'll likely have a second glass, seeing as it was a rough day and all. The thing is, I'm waiting for Boss #2 to call to tell me what the deal is for a case I'm appearing on tomorrow about which I know nothing. He better call soon. As in, before I pour the second glass.

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UPDATE. 9:50pm.

He just called. I get to make a super-fun argument tomorrow. Yay!

In other news, I'm watching tonight's episode of the Gilmore Girls. For those who still watch, Rory, the most perfect student ever, is getting rejected from all of her job possibilities. I know it's a show, and she's graduating from college and not law school, but it's bringing back all sorts of horrid self-pity memories of being an over-achieving smartypants who had a hell of a time finding a decent job after finishing school. To those of you going through this now, chin up. If Rory Gilmore is having problems, you know the employment world has fallen off its axis.