Dreams

We all have them. I'm talking the aspirational kind. Not the wake up thinking what the fuck kind. I'm sure that mine aren't any more dazzling than yours. But I've been thinking a lot about them lately. What I want. What I don't want. What I don't know if I want.

Here's what I know that I want:

A job that I love, where I don't calculate tenths of hours per day and wake up excited and gung ho about what I get to do that day.

A husband whom I adore. (Before that, a relationship that doesn't require weekly travel. But it's good. We're working on it.)

Enough money where I don't have to worry about the bank taking an extra day to process something.

To still consider my best friends now my best friends in 10, 15, and 20 years.

Another dog. Although this seems like the easiest one to remedy at the moment, given the above problems of travel and billing, it's sadly not.

Reasonable health insurance. I've actually really started to use it at the time when it's become a hot topic. And jumping through 18,000 hoops to do something incredibly simple is, well, really annoying.

I'm not going to go through the things I don't want. They don't deserve to be mentioned.

So. It's been a long time.

That title has been sitting there for half an hour. I have everything and nothing to say. Good and bad.

Maybe tomorrow.

Staycations are boring.

I'm on my third day off from work and I'm bored. Being home during the day watching bad TV, while nice when you're sick or even on a random holiday, makes one feel listless and depressed when the rest of the world is being productive. Not that I want to spend a million dollars traveling, or, to be honest, go to work tomorrow, but being at home has just made me be productive in different ways and not really relax that much.

I paid bills.
I re-organized my closet.
I called five different doctors' offices (I need a new general doc) before finding one with an appointment available before October.

I think I'm going to scrub the kitchen.

You know you need a vacation when...

your dreams include visions of case citations woven into your bedspread, and you're upset because you know the citations are wrong, not because they're there in the first place.

you have to do deep breathing exercises in your office daily.

your boyfriend (!!) keeps emailing you comments about the things he's watching on TV while he takes a week off from work to just hang out at home.

you have to cross the street to get around the tourists just to go grab some lunch at your favorite variety deli.

there are more people in beach clothing than work clothing on the subway each morning.

__________________

I'm taking three days off next week. I could take more, but I want to save the rest for the holidays and random long weekends throughout the fall. I'm excited already.

Stolen Lines

You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?

It was that hazy, dark, half-asleep yet wide awake period of the night. The hum of the air conditioner almost drowned out the sounds of the late night revelers outside. His arm rested on my hip and I could tell he was almost asleep by the way he was breathing. But he didn't fall asleep. Because I couldn't.

"What's the matter?"

"Mmm? Nothing. Not tired I guess."

You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?

Fingers moved lightly across skin. How could I be so comfortable and so uncomfortable at the same time?

I sat up, twisting my mess of my hair into a knot on the top of my head.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah." I moved closer.

If I ever wanted to get some sleep, I had to say something.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Without freaking you out?"

There was a twitch. I think.

"Ok."

"I just...I need to know that we're on the same wavelength here. We haven't...talked about things really, at all, and I just...need to know how you feel. About...me. How things are going."

Pause. Too long for me. My head buried in between his arm and a pillow.

"I...well, I mean, it's kind of a hard question." WHY? "I really like spending time with you...I wish I could spend more time with you."

You like spending time with me? That's it? My head was swimming. What was I hoping for exactly? I'm crazy about you and can't get enough of you? Did I get the watered down lukewarm version of what I wanted?

I was quiet. So he prompted.

"How do you feel about it?"

Me, meekly: "The same."

"Ok. How does that make you feel?"

I didn't know what to say. Why would I start this conversation if I didn't know what to say? So I said something.

"Um. Maybe a little scared?"

"Why do you feel scared?"

I knew, but I couldn't say it. I couldn't say because it's a risk and I can't get invested more than I already am if I don't know that you're invested too.

So I lied. "Maybe scared is the wrong word." But it was the right word. So I rephrased. "I guess I don't want to get hurt?"

"Well, I don't think that's going to happen."

I was quiet. He had enveloped me with his arms.

He continued. "But somehow I don't think you believe me."

I want to. Really I do. I started the conversation. but I couldn't finish it.

You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?

-----------------

Line stolen from Kavita Daswani. Courtesy of Grace and Colby in the City.

Repugnant, you say?

So I have to draft a post-trial motion on why the jury's verdict to convict on some charges but not others was repugnant as a matter of law and therefore should be set aside. Whatever. (Aside: I'm a prosecutor at heart and sometimes it pains me to write these things.)

I had big plans to sign onto Westlaw once I got home and sip some wine and do some research, but um, sometimes plans fall through. We've all had that happen, right?

However, in an effort to maintain some consistency in thought, here are a few things I find particularly repugnant:

NYC subway platforms in August
Orly Taitz
David Ortiz (life in Boston in the fall of '04 is now tainted)
Most reality tv
This woman
Facebook turning into nothing but baby pictures (am I really at that age? really and truly? better get crackin')

More information needed

Yes, I can research an issue in my sleep, but if you don't tell me what exactly you want me to focus on and who you want me to persuade about what, I'm going to get cranky. I don't know the trial evidence like the back of my hand. I need specifics. And if you don't want to respond to my email request, have fun sifting through the fifty cases I give you.

"Grey's Anatomy" in space is probably too much of a compliment.

ABC's new summer series "Defying Gravity" is bad. Really, really bad. So bad that I'm mad I'm still watching it and that I will probably watch it next week as well.

I really am a girl. Fuck.

Grace is right that talking about relationships is a snoozefest. However, I have nothing else right now to talk about. And I've bothered my friends with this enough today. So.

The boy and I have been going strong for five months. We know each other's friends. We email multiple times per day. We see each other most weekends.

Last night, on the advice of numerous people who told me it was NO BIG DEAL, I casually, in the context and midst of various other things, asked him in an email if he had ever mentioned me to his parents. Who he lives about twenty miles from. And emails with "regularly".

I haven't heard from him all day. ALL DAY. (No, he's not just busy. People with iphones who email you sports articles you couldn't care less about are not that busy.)

Why. WHY did I do that? I was curious! It wasn't a big deal! Did I freak him out? Everything everything EVERYTHING points to us being in a real relationship.

I know that we both have strong feelings. Why would this freak him out?

I was watching He's Just Not That Into You a few weeks ago, and laughing (pitying) the sad girls who screw things up with men. Never ever have I been that girl. A few months ago I didn't even know if I really liked him. Well, I do. Clearly.

I'm having another glass of wine. I will not email him again. This is ridiculous.

Thanks to me being a girl, I billed about .2 hours today.

Check that. (Meaning everything above.) Now I'm just mad. mad mad mad. If he's this weirded out by a simple question like that I think we have bigger issues happening here.
___________________________________________________
Update:

At 8:51pm I received the following as part of a longer email:

"I have indeed mentioned you to my fam. I've talked to my mom, sister, and granddad about you. I don't talk to my dad about stuff and my grandmom is getting kind of senile."

Jesus Christ. I'm not cut out for this.

I don't even mind that it's Chris Brown*

If you haven't watched this yet, well, sad for you. Watch it. I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle someone today, and then I watched it again and was dancing barefoot around my office.

*Truth be told...I love that song.

Things I'm thinking about. In no particular order.

I am a bad blogger.

Summer reruns suck.

I miss the boy. It's been two weeks! He'll be here tomorrow night.

I'm sooooo happy it has yet to hit 90 degrees this summer in NYC. Joy.

Having the washing machine outside my apartment door broken for almost two weeks has made me realize that the day I own my own machines (NON-coin operated, thank you) will be one of the happiest days of my life.

Deadlines at work have somehow snuck up on me.

And I don't really care.

Because I am the master at getting things adjourned.

I still miss Chloe.

Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr. was probably in the right, but anyone who says "Do you know who I am?" deserves to be smacked.

First Post Ever From Work

I know. I KNOW. I shouldn't blog from work. But you know what? No one around here cares. We don't have an IT department (unless one guy who comes in randomly to fix network problems counts), I'm on other people's blogs, Gawker, and Facebook all freaking day anyway, and really, I get my shit done so no one is the wiser when it comes to my internet procrastination tools.

It's pouring rain and sunny outside right now. Wtf. I'll be in Philly for the long weekend, and will probably leave after I finish writing this even though my train isn't for another hour and a half. Sheryl Crow is playing before the fireworks at the Art Museum on Saturday. I really want to go, but I have a somewhat irrational fear of crowds. It's not crowds so much as, um, dirty people being too close to me, haha. I was at an Explosions in the Sky concert (they're so good) the other night and almost couldn't breathe from the mixture of BO and marijuana.

I digress.

I can't decide which one of these clips made me laugh the most.

Happy Independence Day everyone. God save the Queen.

Wait. That's not right. Damnit.

I almost didn't make it out alive.

There was pushing. Yelling. Shoving. Death stares.

It was scary. Beware.

Of what, you ask?

The Victoria's Secret sale at 86th and Broadway.

*Shudder*

This may be a stupid question.

But since when has that stopped me?

I'm not a huge police procedural fan (L&O reruns while cleaning/cooking notwithstanding), but I occasionally enjoy an episode of Without a Trace. It's good, right? Except, here's the thing. Doesn't a person have to be missing for at least 24 hours before the police start looking for him/her? Why is it in this show that "Missing 10 hours" will flash across the screen while a team of supercops/investigators swarm all over someone's home/office looking for clues? I'm not talking Amber Alerts here - these are adults who are potentially playing hooky for the day. Why the fuss? That being said, it's still good. And Poppy Montgomery is pretty. The end.

It gets rid of icky spiders - what are you complaining about?

The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out.
Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.
And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.

Rainiest June on record, huh? Bring it on! I love it. Running in it, curling up listening to it, dashing through it, losing three umbrellas in a matter of weeks in it, etc. I should really live in Seattle.

I feel like my blog is drying up. I don't mean for that to happen, but every time I start a post, it's lame and I delete it. I just didn't delete this one.

Also, does anyone know what's going on with Thinking Fool? The site has been eerily blank for days! Did he leave us?

I'm rocking out to MJ's greatest hits while cooking spaghetti and drinking wine after a frustratingly long day. And I have a 9am dentist appointment. Funnnnnnn.

Things I Don't Understand

Why it takes me an hour to fall asleep every night.

Why a certain very large bureaucratic financially stupid client expects that a complicated summary judgment motion can be completed in 8 hours.

The Duggar Family.

Spending money to have another woman paint my toenails. (Sorry. I just don't like it.)

Iran's "free" elections.

CNN's obsession with Facebook and Twitter.

Why people in my building do laundry (the machines are 10 feet from my door) at 2am.

People who have cars in Manhattan.

Why Season 3 of "Once and Again" isn't on dvd.

My dad.

Hoda Kotbe's decision that the fourth hour of Today would be good for her career.

Why I love Edward Cullen.

Water to Wine. And other things.

It wasn't too long ago when a cup of tea after a long day would (temporarily) solve all my problems. A glass of wine has replaced the cup of tea. Is this a problem? (Aside from the extra 120 calories per day?)

I ran in a downpour this morning. Cats, dogs, birds, and snakes. (Or at least worms. Ew. I hate the post-rain wormy ground.)

I miss Chloe resting her head on my ankle and snoring.

I can't get enough quality time with the boy. Which consists of spooning, watching movies, cooking dinner, and forcing myself to keep up with him on a run.

I'm on auto-pilot at work. I'm doing it. I'm doing a lot. But I don't care about it. Shouldn't I care about it? Am I $150K in debt (principle balances never to decrease) for something where I don't care about the outcome of a case as long as my work product was up to par?

John and Kate and the Octomom? They should all fall off a cliff. What about the kids, you say? Well, I was never one for the importance of biology.

Heidi and Spencer should also fall off a cliff. Into a river of crocodiles. And acid.

I'm usually ready for winter by July 4th. It happened about a month early this year. Fuck.

September 29, 1993 - May 21, 2009

We will always love you and miss you. Have fun jumping up on kitchen countertops and over baby gates in doggy heaven. (Yes, she really used to do that. Most useless purchase of a babygate ever.)




Chloe went to sleep in our arms, in our home, where the wonderful vet came to make it easier for all. It was terribly difficult, but she's ok now. And I will be too.

I can't sleep.

I got about 4 hours last night. I've never had sleep problems before, so I'm a little worried. Because the not sleeping leads to feeling terrible which leads to not getting work done and barely being able to work out which leads to anxiety which leads to more trouble sleeping.

Tylenol PM? Doesn't work. But I'm gonna try it again right now.

I guess I just have a lot going on, and change, whether good or bad, is still change. And I suck at change. Like, big time suckage.

The boy is coming to visit for the long weekend. We'll get some sleep. *Maybe*

Dear Carrie Prejean,

Go the fuck away. Seriously.

Thanks.

Well Judge, that's because because plaintiff's counsel can't count.

A motion to dismiss based on failure to commence before the statute of limitations expired is not a complicated one. Yes, there are procedural loopholes which may save an action, but 9 times of out 10, Mr. Plaintiff is simply screwed. When you represent a large entity which is unfortunately often mistaken for a similar but different large entity with a longer statute of limitations, you can make these motions in your sleep and calculate expiration dates in your head.

So it's amusing when you get opposition papers which yell! and taunt! and threaten! And which make it clear that opposing counsel is, well, an idiot who not only doesn't do the proper research and investigation prior to commencing an action, but who simply. can't. count. Time to go back to 2nd grade.

The very good and the very bad.

Crickets. Yes, I know. Have I been missed? For my ego I'll assume that's a yes.

Why the lull? Well, lotsa things happening around these parts. The highs and lows, people. I've been a bit bipolar lately.

Let's start with the good, shall we? For the past month, I have maybe been dating a real live boy. I say maybe because, well, I am 28 but feel about 18 when it comes to this crap. It took me a while to get comfortable saying this, but I like him! I do! Hooray! The fact that he has liked me for years at this point is icing on the cake. He is the childhood friend of one of my best friends from college, and lives in Philadelphia. Not too far. We're running the Broad Street Run together this weekend. Ten miles of fun.

And now the bad. My beloved perfect wonderful cherished dog, Chloe, very likely has (hopefully early stage) lymphoma. She is a rocking 15 1/2 year old pup. She came down with an eye infection last week, and, not thinking much of it, we (I was visiting the parents for the weekend) took her to a vet to have it checked out. It turned out her lymph nodes were enlarged, and the vet did a needle aspiration, and told us she was pretty sure it was cancer. Obviously, the rest of the weekend consisted of crying. Chloe is doing better, and the antibiotic is clearing up her eye, which may have been a stress reaction to whatever else is going on. However, the pathology reports came back as "inconclusive", and now the vet wants to do another aspiration next week. It is still likely lymphoma, and while we don't know the prognosis/possible treatment options yet, it appears to be an early stage, for which we are grateful. I am trying to be realistic and realize that she was born during Clinton's first term. However, when you've had a pet since you were 12 years old, things get rough.

So. Yeah. Excitement and romance! (He made sure he has Equal on hand because he knows I don't like Splenda. Good lord.) And then, sadness and uncertainty and fear.

There' s a lot going on at work too, but that takes a back seat as far as I am concerned right now. Life. It's happening.

Why unlikely?

The title of the article says it all. If you haven't already watched the clip, it is embedded in the article. Here's what bothers me. Why is Susan Boyle an "unlikely singer"? An unlikely celebrity? Maybe. An unlikely pop star? Sure.

Now, I love Britney and her very mediocre voice as much as the next red blooded westerner, and I'm not trying to get all "oh the media is so unfair and we're all ageist and superficial, etc." I buy $25 face lotion just like the next girl and obsess over my looks just like the rest of us. (Actually, $25 is probably on the low end of the spectrum, but it's still kind of a lot.)

There's just something highly disturbing about the unquestioned notion that youth and beauty automatically mean someone is talented, and that not being young and beautiful means you are dog poo. Haven't we all known so called beautiful people who we want to spear in the eye with a fork after spending five minutes with them? Susan Boyle, even before she sang, seemed like a sweet kinda goofy lady who probably never harmed a fly and yet people were already grimacing.

There is nothing unlikely about her being a singer. Simply by looking at her, is she an unlikely neurosurgeon? An unlikely astrophysicist? An unlikely serial killer? How the hell are we supposed to know?

End rant.

TAXES BLOW.

The end. Yes, I owed. Apparently because I filled out my W4 as "single 1" when I should be "single zero." Yeah. Let's ponder that one.

I am Derek Jeter.

"You're like the Derek Jeter of the firm." - Partner

"Um, what?"

"You know, the go-to person. The MVP."

"Isn't he supposed to be kind of an asshole?"

"Well, maybe sometimes I guess."

"Gee, thanks."

County General's doors are closing.

*tear*

I know, I know. You stopped watching when Dr. Ross left. Or when Dr. Benton left. Or when Dr. Green died. Or when Carter left. Or when Luka almost died in Africa. Or...

It's been on for 15 years, people! More than half my life! I was 13 years old when this damn thing started. Clinton was in his first term! And I've seen every episode. Many episodes MANY times. Remember when Carter and Lucy got stabbed?!

It's the end. THE END. I haven't begun watching the clip show yet. I can't start it because I don't want it to end! A friend is starting the whole series from the beginning (I also record the reruns on TNT) and he's so excited and enthralled and I LOVE it.

Ok. I'm gonna have a glass of wine and order some takeout because I just got home (let's not even talk about work and the fact that I HATE EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING) and start watching. Let the meltdown begin.

Claustrophobia

I've been feeling it lately. In the subway. On the street. In bars and restaurants. In the courts. The fact is simple: there are too many freaking people in this city. I snapped at a crazy bag lady on the subway yesterday because she kept telling people to move into the train (usually a sentiment I agree with) except there was nowhere to move. Usually you just roll your eyes and plug your earphones in against crazy bag ladies. But I couldn't take it.

Maybe it's spring fever and I need to just get away for a few days. Do people really take vacations by themselves? I'd love a spa weekend with girlfriends but totally can't afford it. My loan payments are going up by $76 this month. Awesome.

I saw Duplicity yesterday. Disappointing. Maybe I was expecting too much after reading a few glowing reviews. Despite the witty banter and star chemistry, I think I just can't get into things that are all about money. It's everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You can't turn on the news without being bombarded with dire predictions about how we're all financial idiots, and yet, the next segment is about recession-priced vacation packages.

Haven't done my taxes yet. Gah. Clearly I'm not as Type A as I pretend to be.

On a random positive note, who knew that Grey's Anatomy still had the ability to churn out a damn fine episode?

Dear law students on the #2 train:

I may be in sweaty workout clothes with my hair in a ponytail, but I'm still a lawyer. And I will still snicker and roll my eyes at you when you talk about how so-and-so TOTALLY didn't know the answer in Trusts and Estates the other day because she was TOTALLY on facebook when the professor called on her. Also, yes, you may have gotten free drinks at a law firm event (where you will probably not be hired in this economy) and now you're TOTALLY going to be hungover for moot court tomorrow, but you know what? It's good practice for rocking motion arguments while hungover like I did last Friday.

Keep studying. Just shut up about it, because the rest of us don't want to hear it.

Xoxo,

HE

P.S. You, with the bad dye job, you TOTALLY had a run in your stockings.

Blogging from my phone during CLE.

I hate CLE requirements. They are useless and stupid and solely moneymaking entities. I'm a lawyer. The whole point is I'm educated enough to look up what to do if I don't already know what to do.

Oh. My. God. Has anyone ever died from boredom? I would review cases I have shoved in my bag right now but I think if I billed for the time I was in CLE my boss might get concerned that I wasn't paying attention in the overpriced class he paid for. Not that I didn't have to practically threaten to quit to get them to pay for this crap. Jeez.

I am definitely not the only one glued to his or her phone right now...

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

I was ten years old and packing up my room in the house I was born in. We were moving from the countryside of Connecticut to the suburbs of New Jersey, and I was not happy about it. I loved our house. It was roomy and roamy and airy and light. And old. Very, very old. A few years earlier my mother had seen a ghost in the window in the living room. I was a realist/cynic even as a kid, but I believed her.

"What was it Mommy?"

"She was nursing her baby before they had to leave and keep moving."

"Where were they going?"

"Wherever they could I guess."

Our farmhouse was a bona fide stop on the underground railroad. It's included in the town records as a place where "the coloreds gathered" in the 1850s. Seriously.

When I was packing that last day, bitter and teary over leaving my house and my friends and my roaming backyard and field, I saw him. A little boy in the window, for the briefest of seconds. He flashed me a smile and disappeared, and I ran downstairs in fear and exhilaration.

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

___________________________________

The above is a wholeheartedly true story, and I stole the first line of this post from "You'll Never Eat Lunch in This town Again," by Julia Phillips, as part of Grace's awesome series. Aside from the obvious, it's awesome because there is no deadline and I can do it a month later than everyone else.

Taking A (Slightly) Sick Day

This is my second sick day in over two years of work. Not bad, right? There have probably been some times where I should have stayed home and didn't, so the fact that today I really COULD go to work and am not...balances out. I do feel like crap - overly tired, three day old dull headache, stuffy, but it's probably not enough to truly take a sick day. And yet I do not care, because, seriously, one sick day in 2+ years, remember? And on the rare day where I have no court appearances and would just sit in my office staring at the brief on my computer screen, billing 8 hours of "administrative time" for a sick day is surely the better choice.