Sunday, November 1, 2015

a little sunday night rambling

I’m eating a lot of chocolate. I thought I was going to have trick or treaters last night, but no one came. So now it’s me, homework, and peanut M&Ms. I am not allowed to get more candy otherwise my jeans won’t make it to January.

I’m sitting here shoveling these delights in thinking. I just finished Philadelphia, the movie Tom Hanks won an Oscar for about the lawyer who got fired with AIDS. It was referenced in one of classes this past week and even though I own it and have seen it before, I thought I should watch it again. It’s a fine movie. My favorite scene is when Tom Hanks is on the witness stand and he is talking about being an excellent lawyer, about loving the law, about being able to, on the rare occasion, witness justice. It can give you chills.

So, I’m sitting here, in the dim silence of my room eating peanut M&Ms thinking about all of that. Because it’s Sunday and the crazy week of law school looms ahead and sometimes I really try to think about whether I love it or not.

My major philosophy is to say no to shit you hate. Life’s too short and I’m too old to play the let’s please everyone game. Ain’t no one got time for that. But that doesn’t mean it’s all roses and daisies and netflix all the time.

Starting a conversation with “I go to law school” leads into warped responses. Most people are impressed/think I’m crazy/ think I’m some kind of salvant. (I always feel the need to correct those people and be like, lawyers are people too.) A majority of the time people want to talk about how hard it is, about the soul sucking, time sucking, terror of it all.

Maybe I should be knocking on wood. I did just fail two sets of multiple choice practice exams for criminal law (that goes back to not a savant and you don’t have to be a genius), but I refuse to acknowledge all the gibberish.

Is law school hard? Sure. I mean, it should be. It’s a professional training ground for people that are going to be politicians, judges, policy makers, professors, and litigators. I’d like to think we were prepared for that. Do I think that the 1L experience is made to be drive us all slightly mad? Debatable. I think everyone doing anything for the first time goes a little crazy.

I’ve had the immense pleasure of spending three years raising teenagers. Have you ever had to watch someone fall out of love with their high school romance and try to put the pieces back together? Have you ever tried to explain the complexities of teen suicide or self harm to those it hit hardest? Divorce. School violence. The tears haunt you, the “I need yous,” the moments they curled right next you and you just prayed you didn’t have to move, that should they decide to talk you would find the words.

That. That was hard. The ER visits. The calls from parents wondering if life was ok. The reassurance. We were babies raising babies.

That was 24/7 and immediate. The conversations that are now done I still play in my mind.

I decided to take a chance on law school because I want to be a diplomat. A player on the international policy scene. I am passionate at being at the (head) of the table and ensuring that no girl will ever have to wonder about breaking a glass ceiling.

I believe in conversation. I believe in conversation interpersonally. I believe in conversation on a micro level. And I want to see if conversation, with the right people, can change the world on the biggest platform, the largest stage.

So, yeah, law school is hard.
When is the good stuff ever easy?

(And those conversations...the ones with the teens...some of the best, ever.)

because what's Philadelphia without bruce?

Monday, May 11, 2015

soundtracks

I'm sitting here, curled up on the corner of my couch with Netflix on silent (really it's just taking forever because the internet cannot handle the tab requirements of teenagers). It's a rare moment of being in my room with nothing to hold my attention, so I drift into my own thoughts, and then I hear it. The soundtrack of the last three years.

There are muffled voices and shrieking hysterics and the running of feet down a hallway of upperclassmen girls, my babies. They close doors and drop down bags and turn on music. They laugh and tell stories with loud voices and I'm imagining big hand gestures, to further the drama no doubt. They move on, from one room to the next in an ongoing of homework procrastination. Music gets turned up a little higher, showers turn on, make up comes off. I imagine book bags sitting on the ends of beds and windows opening to let in the night breeze with no mind to the incoming mosquitos. They too want to hear the hustle of the outside as others rush to sign in, mindlessly laughing and skipping, already late, already not caring.

They take up so much life, my teenagers. They feel everything all the time and they exhaust me. But, man, are they wonderful. Their future scares and exhilarates them. They are embracing it arms wide open, jumping off the edge with full faith that the parachute will appear.

But right now, they are savoring all of the finales. The final tech week, the last project. The last time their boyfriend will wait for them in that secret spot that we all know about. The last whispers before they part from each other.

So they scurry and they run. They begin to lessen their focus on how much they may (or may not) need me and focus on their longing for each other. For simple, for predictable, for routine.

I sit and let it all circle around me. The beautiful wonder of it all. I sit here and know that downstairs sits a woman not too different from me who is trying to decide if this is a job for her. And I silently hope that she is in awe of us-- the people who know the names and the backstories, who call them "honey" and "love" because we can and they let us -- I hope that she is dizzy keeping up with it all. More, however, I fear that she will easily replace us, those of us leaving, and our memory will dwindle.

I sit and let the soundtrack swirl. And then Netflix loads. And my night off calls and I let go. I let go of the strings and the noise quiets.

For now, they are the soundtrack of my life. And soon, we will part. But not now. Now we dance together, blind to any interloper.

19 days left. Nineteen.

Don't blink.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

lessons from mamma c

Me and Mamma C // May 2014
There has been endless mother's day love on Facebook today. And it's delightful. More because our mother's make the eighties look so awesome and I really wish I could raid those closets for some real winning outfits (seriously).

I have a number of very good photos with my mother. But what makes her so awesome are those tidbits of knowledge she spouts in the middle of regular life. Bonding with my mom happened late nights, during the commercials of Gilmore Girls and Lifetime movies, and on the ride to and from school. That was our world. And now we text all the time. With emoticons. I LOVE emoticons. Anyway, it's only been about a million years since I wrote something on this little blog of mine and while there is a lot to catch you batch of people up on, nothing is quite as inspiring as the relationship between mothers and daughters. So, here are some nuggets of wisdom from the great and lovely Mamma C. Long may she reign. (And probably find a multitude of grammatical errors in this post.)

words of wisdom from mamma c:
make a decision. good or bad, at least the decision will be made.
just because no one sees your socks doesn't mean you can't like them.
never doubt for a single moment that whatever you're worrying or thinking about isn't important. if you're thinking about it, that makes it important.
running sucks. what sucks worse is not being able to.
always laugh loudly.
talking about nothing means everything to someone.
you will never regret eating chocolate.
target has it. if it doesn't go to anthropologie.
never expect someone else to make you happy.
everyone has the one got away. the cool thing is what you learn from that person.
people go to bed angry. that's ok.
always have your own money.
many women have worked so that you have been independent. that is a privilege use it wisely.
"motherhood was my dream. you existing is all i've ever wanted. that certainly doesn't mean you have to want to be a mother. you get to be you. that's enough for me"

yeah...she's the coolest. but don't worry. i share her :)

Mamma C, the Target dog Spot, Me #selfie style // Seattle WA, 2015