Seeking Coherency

Reviewing my prior posts, I realized just how all over the place I am. It's like my blog suffers from multiple personality disorder. But then again, the schizophrenic approach kind of mirrors how my life has been. The times I get around to posting something are, clearly, few and far between, and usually spurred by either boredom or strong feelings. Looking at what feelings and event have moved me throughout the past years is interesting. I suppose that's the whole point of a journal or diary, and that's essentially what I have used this as. I apologize to all of you who have chosen to try to make any sense of what you read here. It's really not about you. It's all about me (at least in terms of this blog). Part of me thinks perhaps I should find a coherent theme to stick with. Primarily because I've been perusing so very many blogs in my obsession with recipes lately (more and more I've been wanting to go with a complete career change and just become a chef or baker). But really, there's no point in that. I don't want that. I don't post things for that reason. If I later feel the need to do something with more coherence, I'll start something new. But here, I think I'll stick with my random, sporadic, topic-jumping ramblings.

Speaking of topic jumping...

Part of me does want to create some sort of food blog. Partly due to my current obsession with them, and partly due to the fact that I've already got a ton of pictures of previously baked goodies that I kind of want to just put out there. But also part of me doesn't want to (mainly due to not really caring about photograph composition while taking previously mentioned photos...kind of an inferiority complex caused by all the pretty other blogs...but then again, that new blog would still likely be just for me). Hmmm.... Thoughts for further procrastination.

Dreaming

Dream interpretation is something that fascinates me. Not to say that I have to decode every dream I have, giving full credence to the interpretations and changing my life accordingly. I know that the interpretations are often vague and there are often multiple interpretations of one symbol, and sometimes it is not symbolic after all (one of the great examples from a dream dictionary: dreaming of sex can represent merging aspects of yourself...or it could just mean you need to have more sex). But I still feel there can be something to it. After all, there are many generally understood symbols or meanings associated with things (red can be anger, passion, or power; snakes can be a sign of evil; birth is a new beginning), so why can't these symbols represent themselves in various forms in our dreams? And often times the interpretations make sense. The other day, a friend had an odd dream, involving mountain climbing and unsquishable beetles. After looking at the symbolism of the important elements, the resulting meaning seemed to fit her situation to a T. Whenever I have a particularly vivid dream, one I'm still thinking about when I wake up, I always try to look up the elements, and it often makes sense. Sure, there are some elements that don't fit, but even those you can usually recognize where they come from and still decode the other elements.

The other night, my dream involved a friend's wedding, flying in an airplane over a marsh and a forest, two free-standing doors in the forest (one red, one beige) with rabbits on them, and grapefruit trees. The whole thing about the colored doors doesn't really make much sense. A closed door symbolized an opportunity denied, someone or something blocking your progress - that would be a bit of a stretch. I don't feel like I'm facing a lot of closed doors or obstacles right now, but I suppose it could fit. Beige refers to the basics, red is raw energy, passion, power, aggression - again, not terribly relevant, especially linked with the doors. Rabbits symbolize luck and success, a positive outlook on life - well, I did recently receive a newly positive outlook, but I haven't been having much luck or success lately. However, I have been watching Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland a lot. You know, the one where she enters Underland through a free-standing door,with nothing on the other side. Even in my dream, this is what I thought of when I saw these doors. So I think it's safe to say those elements weren't so much symbols, but rather just carryover from waking hours.

So what about the rest of my dream? Well, the wedding symbolizes a new beginning or transition in my current life. Hmmm... I'm sort of starting a new job, which will allow me to make a lot of changes, and feels like I'm getting life back on track, though I currently feel stuck in a transition period. Yup, that one fits. The wedding was of a childhood friend - symbolizing regression to the past, without responsibilities and carefree. Who doesn't wish for such a time when faced with a mountain of stressful adult responsibilities? Check again (also, looking this up would explain why I've dreamt of this friend's wedding so many times - lately it seems I'm often in transition, which leads to a longing to leave responsibility behind). The forest? Again symbolizes transition. The marsh: "To see or dream that you are at a marsh, suggests instability in your emotional realm. You may be feeling bogged down, insecure or unsure about the future or how to go about with achieving your goals." Anyone who actually knows me knows how dead on this one is. The grapefruit trees symbolize talents, belief system and good deeds. This is again not quite a direct fit, but given that I was looking at the trees from afar, doubting whether it really was a grapefruit tree, and feeling like it was beyond reach to verify - well, that again fits with my doubts about my talents. Finally, the airplane symbolizes overcoming obstacles and rising to a new level of status. Which is exactly what I hope the new job will help with.

So in all, the elements of my dream seem to be rather contradictory - positive outlook and changes, but regressing to childhood without responsibilities, instability and insecurity about the future, and rising above obstacles. However, my emotions lately have been going through a very similar roller coaster. One minute I'll be thinking everything is great and going to work out for the best, the next I'm feeling a crushing hopelessness that nearly brings me to tears. So yes, my dream pretty accurately reflected what is going on in my life. But what's the point of all of this? Why does it matter? Some of the information I've read regarding sleep has indicated that it's a time for your brain to reset, and in doing so, work through various issues. Clearly this is what my mind was doing last night. As for what the benefit of my knowing all of this... Well, this particular dream isn't that helpful. I'm already aware of all of these issues and emotions, as well as the cause of them. But this isn't always the case. Sometimes looking for meaning in dreams can provide insight into issues you haven't quite identified, only had a nebulous feeling that something wasn't right. Or, as in the case of my friend's dream, can provide encouragement. Walking over beetles while mountain climbing doesn't sound very inspiring, but pushing on without allowing negative influences to distract you from your goals is encouraging.

Dreams really are fascinating. Yes, sometimes a dream is just a dream. But often, it's a fascinating way for our subconscious to communicate in a way we can decipher, to see what issues we may need to address in our waking hours, or perhaps just a way to work through our emotions. Not to mention, sometimes it's just fun.

Just Breathe

No, not like the song. I need to remind myself of this sometimes, when fear makes breathing feel impossible, like there's no light, no hope, nothing. But I need to remember that no matter what, things are still okay. True, they're not as secure or settled or where I want them. But at the same time, I still have plenty of reasons to be thankful. And even if something terrible does happen, again, I know it's temporary. Whatever it is, I can get through it. I remember a dear friend of mine who has been through far worse trials of this nature, and she's still alright, still able to keep her head up and remember to smile and to rise above, again and again. This is what I need to remember. And that I have faith. Faith that my path is in the hands of someone far greater and more powerful than myself. Faith that has let me along this path so far, which is almost entirely different than what I've ever imagined for myself, but it is still the best path. And I know it will continue. I simply need to keep my eyes and ears and mind open to see the signs directing me along that path. And I need to remember to breathe.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can

Isn't it amazing how everyone seems to have a higher opinion of your abilities than you do, except for potential employers? Does that mean that everyone else is just being nice and you're right after all? Or is everyone else right, you're being to hard on yourself, and the lack of employment is due to other causes? And it's not just prejudiced friends and relatives, but people with whom you have a more casual acquaintance with who seem to have full confidence in you. I try to tell myself that everyone else's confidence means that I am more competent than I think, but then that attitude starts to falter when I can't even get an interview, let alone a job. Perhaps it's just failings in my cover letter writing? I'd like to think so, as that means I can fix it. However, I've had interviews for two different jobs that I thought were perfect and that I really wanted to do, and neither hired me. I'm so tired of this. I just want a job.

Changes for a New Year

So it's official. I am a lawyer. Not only am I a lawyer, but I'm an unemployed lawyer. How did this happen? Life was going so smoothly, everything falling into place, and now...now I feel lost. I've come to realize that I've never really had to search for a real job. Even my first job as a waitress came to me because a friend worked there and suggested me when they needed another server. The jobs I had during college were equally as easy to get. Even my post-college job, my first "real job", was practically offered to me before I knew it was available. Now, as I try to search for the right job, it feels like such new and unfamiliar territory, I'm not sure what to do. I feel like I'm rather blindly sending out resume after resume, with no clue if the position is even remotely right for me. The two jobs that I did actually think were perfect, and that I did make it through several interviews for, didn't pan out. With both of those avenues shut down (though perhaps not for good), I'm feeling more lost than ever. So what now? After all the major decisions of my life essentially falling into my lap, how do I try to figure out my next step when nothing seems to be coming? It becomes rather depressing, but I know I need to avoid falling into that. I am well aware of how important a positive mental attitude and confidence are in this sort of situation, so I try to remain optimistic. It's hard, but I know I can do it. I recall back towards the beginning of law school, when I was constantly complaining on FB/gmail statuses about stress, studying, my apartment, the T, whatever, a friend of mine pointed out that I had nothing but negativity. I'm sure he didn't think I would take the comment to heart, but I did, and realized I needed to amend that. I strove to find things to be happy about, or at least more neutral, rather than just complaining. And it did help. The more I was able to look at the positive, the less the negative bothered me. Or at least I got better about ignoring unpleasantness, a habit that I'm not so sure was such a good one to develop. I feel like I need that friend to offer similar criticism/advice again to help me keep my focus on track. While I have so many wonderful friends who are supportive and helpful, there's something about talking with a friend who's close, but not too close, to really help you see things more clearly. Such a person lacks the prejudices of those closes to you, and can bring more of an outside perspective, one that you feel you can trust because you respect their opinions. Perhaps it's time for me to reach out to some of those people, and help get my head back on straight so that I can make this the wonderful year I know it is meant to be.

The Dish!

So I'm going to ignore everything that has happened since last posting (well, okay, here's a quick recap: I graduated law school, took the MA bar exam, went to Seattle and Mexico, moved to Malden, and I'm still waiting for the results of the exam)and jump straight into making my first submission to Ginger's The Dish! Sadly, I did not take a picture, as it didn't quite occur to me at the time. But that's really not such a problem because 1) I don't know how to add pics (yes, I'm sure it's quite simple, but whatever), and 2) Indian food, for the most part, is not the most attractive looking, no matter how freakin tasty it is. Yes, that is what I am reviewing: the Indian feast that somehow snowballed out of a small dinner with a friend. What started with plans for just B and myself (which was actually inspired by my randomly picking up a new Indian cookbook) ended up being a small dinner party also including my roommates, my old roommates, and B's boy (and was also supposed to include another couple, who were unable to make it). And as the guest list grew, so did the menu. At first, I was just planning on two dishes. But half of 2AM doesn't eat red meat, so I needed something chicken. And then I decided I also didn't have enough vegetables. And then I realized I had everything on hand for a dahl recipe, so I figured why not? So as I'm adding more dishes, I'm also thinking that I need to double most of these recipes, which say they serve either four or six. But as I did that, I failed to realize that these serving sizes refer to when that is the only dish, not one of five... Needless to say, my roommates and I have been eating Indian food all week. But at least it was good Indian food! And so now, enough rambling, and on to the menu:

Saag paneer
Wok-cooked chicken in tomato and fenugreek sauce
Peshawar-style beef curry
Cauliflower and sweet potato curry
Tarka dhal
Spiced basmati rice
Cucumber raita
Chile-cilantro naan
Tamarind vodka cocktails
Fresh fruit with rose water syrup
Spiced fresh orange and honey sorbet

I'm one of those odd people who actually enjoys spending the entire day in the kitchen cooking, so I really enjoyed creating all of this. Because yes, all of this was indeed made from scratch. The only shortcut was not making my own paneer, but instead buying it (which, based on the recipes for paneer I've seen, is really the best way to do it if at all possible...kind of like not bothering to make your own puff pastry, even though you can).

Nearly everything turned out perfectly. The only exceptions were the tarka dhal (oddly a little on the bland side) and the naan. I believe the naan is going to take a couple of tries to get the hang of. The dough itself was easy enough, but we had a hard time with the baking. First batch set of the smoke alarm because it cooked much faster than predicted, and while salvageable, was much more cracker-like than the proper soft, chewy bread. The rest, while they were not burned, I believe were too thick. They, too, lacked the proper texture, and were rather stiffer than they should have been. But I am by no means discouraged. I will try again, and hopefully get the hang of it!

The tarka dhal, red lentils with some tomatoes, onions and spices, was, as I mentioned, oddly rather bland. It was simple to make and contained many spices, but, oddly did not taste as such. It was so very disappointing that I will likely not bother with it again, even trying to amend it. (Don't get me wrong, it was by no means inedible, but given the wide array of options, it's not really worth it). It was actually able to serve almost as a starch type to soak up some of the tasty sauces from the other dishes.

By far my favorite was the saag paneer. (For anyone not familiar with the dish, it's the pureed spinach with chunks of cheese [paneer]) Oddly, my cookbook did not have a recipe for it. So instead, I found one from a fabulous blog that I stumbled across a year or so ago, and can be found here. I had used fresh spinach instead of frozen, and I may have drained a bit too much water from it, as the resulting dish was rather dry. So I decided to thin it down with a bit of yogurt (based on other recipes I looked at), and it worked wonderfully, giving it a subtle tang. As I was doubling the recipe, I also discovered that I did not have enough paneer, and the Indian market was not open on Sunday. However, I did happen to have some extra-firm tofu on hand, and so after draining and pressing that, cooked it like the paneer. I don't think anyone noticed. Indeed, I could hardly tell the difference between the two once it was all assembled.

The peshawar-style beef curry was also quite delicious, with a rich, creamy, spiced sauce. And the best part? The creaminess did not come from cream, but instead Greek yogurt, which I used the non-fat Fage kind. An extremely decadent tasting dish that was actually quite good for you. It was also rather easy to make, just needed quite a bit of time to simmer and let all the spices fully infuse the meat with flavor. The biggest thing that helped everything go smoothly is that before I started with the actual cooking, I measured out all the spices and had them ready in little dishes with labels of what they were for. With so many spices, it really helped keep me organized.

The chicken dish had a light tomato based sauce, which provided a nice contrast and did not overpower the chicken. The odd thing with cooking it, though, was that the juices, which were supposed to evaporate and cook down into a bit of a thicker sauce, did not. Instead, there seemed to be more and more juices as I let it simmer. Not quite sure what to do about that. Perhaps it was because I doubled the recipe? Perhaps I should have left out the juices of the canned tomatoes? Not sure, but definitely will be making again, and can figure it out then.

The cauliflower and sweet potato curry was quite delicious, and, to my mind, rather surprising. I guess I don't really associate sweet potatoes with Indian food. But the spicy curry sauce was a lovely complement to them. I'm really glad that one in particular turned out so well, because that's what we ended up with the most of. And somewhat surprisingly, none of the veggies ended up soggy after sitting in the sauce and being reheated as we ate leftovers. Again, another successful recipe.

Finally, dessert was something on the lighter side, after so much food (a change from my original plan of cardamom ice cream). The sorbet (made possible by the use of 2AM's ice cream maker...I really need one of those!) was delicious, spiced with cinnamon, cloves, cardamom and a bay leaf (of all things). The fruit was a mixture of strawberries, blackberries, black grapes, pear and orange, and the rosewater syrup (also flavored with cinnamon) was a new and interesting accompaniment. Luckily, no one seemed to think it too odd...

Though speaking of too odd, I'm wondering about the tamarind cocktail. It is basically a juice made from tamarind concentrate, water, sugar and lime juice, then shaken with vodka. It wasn't as tart as I was expecting, with a slightly richer flavor. However, it was still rather tasty, though definitely a bit out of the ordinary.

Overall, quite a successful meal. While I will definitely be using most of those recipes again, I probably won't for a while, because, well, having the same thing for that many days in a row results in needing a bit of a break. But if anyone else would like any of the recipes, let me know, and I'll be happy to share!

Can't I have a magic wand and just make it all better?

It's been FOREVER since I've posted. I know that. So what has caused me to come back after so long? That's simple. I'm angry. At what, you might ask? At people. Not at any individual in particular, but at nearly everyone generally. The overwhelming levels of hate and racism and us vs. them just makes me want to scream. Yes, I know this is nothing new. But what really screamed this point to me at this moment was a wonderfully written post by Tim Wise, entitled "Imagine if the Tea Party was Black". If you have not already read this, please read it. It will help put words to what so many of us have felt. And it really makes me wonder how people who deny the truth of it can continue to lie to themselves.

As those of you who have known me are already aware, I've been a registered member of the Republican party. However, even my most staunchly Democratic friends have always given me a pass, because as one put it, "You're a Republican with a brain." Well, no more. No, I have not had a lobotomy. Far from it. But no, nor have I become a Democrat. I simply cannot stand to be associated with either party. I've spent enough years surrounded by Republicans to be aware of just how absurd the leftist extremists can be, and now the right-wing extremists are proving themselves even worse. It's honestly terrifying. How can people express so much anger and hatred and violent tendencies, especially when so many claim to be Christians? News flash: Jesus is about love, not hatred. He is the one who commanded that when an enemy strikes you on one cheek, you are to turn the other. He is the one who said to pray for your enemies (and he was NOT referring to praying for their death). He is the one who commanded up to love our neighbors as ourselves. And yet, what is it that we've been hearing from the supposed Christians of the Tea Party and general right-wing extremists? Nothing but hatred, fear, and death threats. My own aunt had joined a FB group that basically said they were asking God to kill President Obama. How can anyone say such things? In spite of the allegations hurled without thought, Obama is nowhere near any of the horrifying dictators he has been likened to. If you don't support his policies, so what? Does that really mean he should die? No, it does not. Especially when the results are not bringing about physical harm.

When Bush was president, a very good friend, who is very much a democrat, would never spout the general anti-Bush mantras that were so commonly heard. The reason why? He said that no matter who the president was, he respected the office of the presidency, and he reserved his criticisms to logical points related to the actual issues. Now why can't more people be so level headed? Oh, right. A person is rational, people are irrational.

If only I had a magic wand, I could make everyone rational. Then there would be no more irrational hatred or racism or discrimination or stereotypes. People would stop shouting long enough to listen. People wouldn't let fear and bigotry dictate their actions. I'm talking to you, Arizona.

That's another thing that has been making me angry lately. Arizonans in support of the bill claim that they feel unsafe due to the amount of crime committed by illegal immigrants. News flash: The most heinous criminals in our history, including the rampant serial killers, are citizens. And most immigrants, whether here legally or illegally, do indeed fear the police, and therefore don't risk attracting their attention. They merely want to work and live their lives. They are contributing members of society, whether the whites admit it or not. They spend money and provide services that support out economy, many of them pay taxes (yes, even many of the undocumented ones...I've seen it), they live here and raise their families here. And yet they get stereotyped as evil, criminal, trying to play the system, and a threat to our American culture. Funny. What is American culture after all? What was our country built on? Oh yeah, immigrants, a "melting pot". And fear of outsiders. The Chinese, the Irish, the Italians, the Mexicans... All have been feared as a threat to our "culture". Today, we think it absurd that the Irish and Italians would be so reviled. However, the same is not entirely true when it comes to the Chinese and other Asians. Why? Oh yeah, because they're not white. It's disgusting. And yet people use stereotypes to justify it all. Mexicans are criminals, so they deserve to be targeted. But lets look at why. Why are they committing crimes? Generally, the answer is to survive. Stealing to provide basic needs. Joining gangs for protection against the threat they face as a group that is discriminated against. Selling drugs because they cannot get legitimate work to support themselves. Even crimes that are routinely committed by "good" American citizens, such as drunk driving, suddenly are facing much harsher penalties because they don't have a valid drivers license, because they can't obtain one. I'm not trying to defend drunk driving by any stretch, but it does seem inherently unfair that the white guy gets off so much lighter for the same crime. Hell, even things like DV and sex assault are forgiven when white people do them, because it's seen as a mistake, something that was a result of the stress they were under, or was a misunderstanding, but they would never actually do it again so they shouldn't be punished too harshly... But anyone with a brown skin tone? Well, what else would you expect from someone like "that"?

....

This level of anger is exhausting. I would think that level of hatred would likewise be exhausting. Aren't people ever going to get tired of it? I really want that magic wand...

Srevotfel Night!

Okay, so just have to share the fact that Srevotfel (leftovers backwards) Night is amazing, especially after Thanksgiving. We have developed a habit of turning everything into a pizza. Yes, we made a Thanksgiving pizza. More than one, actually. The one that got a repeat was the stuffing, cranberry sauce, turkey and caramelized onions, topped with provolone. Another was mashed potatoes, turkey, roasted root vegetables, a balsamic reduction, and fresh mozzarella. Final one was barbecued pulled turkey (another form of leftovers), sweet potatoes, oil and garlic, pepper jack cheese and jalapenos. All of them were amazing! Great new way to use Thanksgiving leftovers!

Oh, and you know what else is awesome? My new co-op! I'm finally working with the prosecutors, in the child abuse unit, and it's already awesome (today was my first day). I get sit in on a trial tomorrow, and so today as spent meeting with the witnesses. And everyone there is just awesome. Spent about about an extra half hour there just talking to the other attorneys, who of course also have the requisite twisted sense of humor for doing that kind work. It kind of feels like V/WS, back when it was good. I'm totally excited to spending my quarter there! And now it's time for bed... Have to be there early for the trial in the morning!

Yeah, yeah, yeah....

Clearly I'm back to my procrastinating ways. On so many levels. And this time it may really be getting ready to bite me in the ass. Whatever. Moving on.

So changes. Lots of changes since the last time. I now have roommates. Two human, two feline and one canine. Thankfully, allergies are nearly gone by now, especially since one of the felines likes to practically sit on my shoulder when I study. It's kind of nice having roommates again, but I'm guessing that's only because they are really awesome roommates. Like helping me move, paint (my room was a monstrosity, including one poo colored wall...yes, you read that right, and yes, sadly I was serious), cook, everything. The down side: major distraction from doing homework at home.

And that's another odd change. I actually do homework at home now. My locker is barely used, I carry my books back and forth, and I can't study at school. And after two years, I can't seem to get up early any more, and am never at school before 9:30 (I used to be there at 7am). Seriously, what's up with that? I thought as you get older, you get up earlier... I guess I'm just getting to the point of being done with school. I don't want to be there any more than I have to. And I won't be there much longer! I actually graduate this year. And that is beyond terrifying. Even more so because as the bar exam results have come out, I found out that a friend did not pass. That means it's possible that a smart person may not pass the bar. That means it's possible for me to not pass the bar. You have no idea how much this scares me.

Moving and Memories

So as I'm packing to move YET AGAIN (I had sworn up and down that I wasn't moving again in Boston for at least several years, and yet, here I am moving after only one year in my fabulously cute little apartment, thus failing to break my record of one year and three months as the longest I've lived in one place as an adult). I keep finding things that are rarely used, but still have so many memories attached (which, in some cases, is why I can't get rid of things, in spite of the fact that they have sat unused, unpacked, unnoticed for two years). One such item was my creme brulee torch, which made me laugh immediately, remembering my drunken meltdown over my attempt to use it for the first time. Because of course, it's best to caramelize the sugar right before it's served. Well, at our dinner parties, that means after several bottles of wine. (No judgement, there were about six of us there). And THAT is when I'm trying to figure out how to use this thing for the first time. It just wasn't working. It would light, then go out. And I was becoming unreasonably upset over this. And I was about the just chuck the thing in the trash, but one of my wonderful roommates gently reminded me that I would probably regret that when I was sober. And then it took another friend to discover the problem: I had no clue how to fill the damn thing, so it was essentially trying to run on fumes. No wonder I couldn't keep it lit. Well, by that time, most of the creme brulee had already been consumed sans sugar. And I haven't gotten around to using it since. So it gets moved from apartment to apartment, waiting for that day when I will make another valiant (and hopefully successful) attempt at creme brulee. And mocking me with my drunken meltdown every time I see it. When am I going to learn that making dessert whilst intoxicated is NEVER a good idea? (Anyone else remember the drunken cake? No? Good...)

I love my Boston friends!

And all my other friends too, of course. But today was the first day I REALLY felt back in the Boston I know and love. First off, it was finally a cooler, rather dry day, with a slight breeze, but still sunny and bright. So perfect! Almost Flagstaff weather... So I spent the morning slowly getting into my day (I've had this horrific sleep schedule since I've been back when I'm up until 2-4am and sleep till 10am), then met a good friend for a movie downtown. By the way, "Julia and Julia" is an amazing movie, you should go see it! Then we got a late lunch at this little market that I've noticed before and was always curious about. Again, a good choice! It was such a beautiful day, being down at the commons, people watching (we saw a woman dressed head to toe in gold, and realized she was one of the living statue performers, and also randomly saw our former LF walk by...even a big city is still part of a small world!), and just enjoying the sun and the bustle of downtown Boston. We parted to get on our respective trains just in time to miss rush hour, and on the way home, I suddenly feel a tap on my shoulder. And of all coincidences, it's my friend, soon to be roommate, heading home from her law school. So I go with her, spend the late afternoon at her place, and then her boyfriend/my other roommate comes home and we have a fabulous evening together, grabbing drinks and appetizers for dinner at a local restaurant. I've missed this part of Boston... It really is so nice to spend time with good friends in a great city. Ahhh, it's good to be home!

P.S.~ Quick update on the getting home: After trying unsuccessfully to get on two flights from Seattle to Boston, I considered going to Portland Tuesday night, spending the night in the airport (well, six hours really), and getting the Portland to Boston flight, which looked much more promising. However, as the day wore on, not only did the PDX/BOS flight fill up, but so did the SEA/PDX flight. WTF??? So I caved and just bought a ticket for Tuesday night. Which took me through Portland AND San Francisco, before finally on a red-eye flight to Boston (which got in late). And my lovely new roommates were so very, very kind as to pick me up from the airport (thankfully all my luggage was there!), and the one who had to work wasn't even late! It was a long journey, but I finally made it!

P.P.S~ I wrote this after the kick-ass Mai Thais from Golden Temple, and managed to write the entire post without a spelling mistake (I make no claims regarding grammatical mistakes, this program doesn't check for those)... Is it wrong to be proud of myself?

Travel (the continuing saga)

So, in spite of all my optimism about being able to make it onto the Sunday night flight to Boston, I did not. The flight, which was oversold by five, went completely full. I almost thought I would get on, because there was one passenger who hadn't boarded when they were about to close the doors, but she came running up at the last minute. So I spent the night in Seattle with my sister, and we went back to try again in the morning. That flight was only oversold by three, and yet EVERYONE actually showed up, and so they had to ask for volunteers for a later flights, as well as offering another flight through Houston (which, my sister informed me, costs the airlines quite a bit of money, so props to them for being willing to lose money rather than piss off customers by forcefully bumping them). So by this time, I had slept about nine hours total the last two nights together, and was rather delirious. And felt rather dirty, still wearing the same clothes. Because the bag with all my clothing went on the flight the night before, and my bag with all my makeup and toiletries was somewhere between Flagstaff, AZ and Seattle, WA. Did I mention that a bag had gotten lost? I actually just found it quite funny, because that bag has gotten lost several times. It's my only piece of luggage that has ever gotten lost. It began when I was coming back from Thailand, and it made it with me as far as LAX, and then it went to Beirut while I went to Phoenix. Really? How does that happen? And how did it get lost on a direct flight from Phoenix to Seattle, with no transfers? I don't know why I even try checking it any more. But I do. At first I was a little worried that maybe someone else had picked it up (it had come to Seattle three flights before me), but then I realized that wouldn't have happened because that would mean it would have been scanned in at Seattle, which it wasn't. So I knew they would find it eventually, and I just laughed about the fact that my bag seems to be cursed. Figures.
So wait, where was I? Oh yes, just got shot down for another flight, and told that the flight that evening was oversold by seven. Yikes. But all I cared about at the moment was sleeping. But first with a quick stop at Ross so that I could have some clean clothing.
After a fabulous nap, I began considering my options. Well, there's a direct Portland-Boston flight. But the leaves at 7:20am. Which is before the earliest Seattle-Portland flight gets in. So I decided that I would show up to try to get on the Seattle-Boston flight that night, and if not, then I would get on the last flight to Portland and spend the night in the airport (I know that Bridgete lives there, but with coming in at midnight and having to be back at the airport at 6am, it would be more trouble than it would be worth to leave). But then, as the evening goes on, the numbers get worse and worse. It begins looking doubtful whether I would get on the Boston flight, and then doubtful whether I would get on the Portland flight. And the flights out of Seattle didn't show any possibility until Thursday, and who knows what would happen between now and then. So I decided to just buy a one way ticket. Which goes through Portland and San Fransisco, getting into Boston about 7:15 the next morning. Oh joy. But I was sick of the standby game. First time ever I've had this hard of a time. I wonder if that's a sign of the improving economy that so many people are buying last minute tickets, which are in the $1,000 range. I mean really? Well, sucks for me, but good for Alaska Airlines and my sister. Job security.
So another thing I've realized during all of this is just how rude and self-centered many travellers are. I mean, I understand that flying these days generally sucks, but that's no surprise. Quit acting like you were expecting to be treated like royalty. And don't be an ass about it when you realized that the airport does not revolve around you. If you would chill out, everyone would be much nicer and all would be happier. Some simple things to remember:
1) You are told to arrive outrageously early for your flight for a reason. Security is a bitch. Again, this is no surprise. So don't get there 45 minutes before your flight leaves (leaves, not boards), and then complain when they didn't hold the plane even though you were checked in but stuck in security. It's called planning. The airlines does it. You should to.
2) Another airline's delay does not mean that your next flight is going to be held for you. Time tables are tight for airlines. If they wait for you, they throw off the rest of the day. Blame the other airline that got you in late and made you miss the connection, not the flight that didn't wait. Especially when they have another flight to put you on in an hour.
3) If you're flying stand-by, don't bitch at the gate agents when you don't get on the flight. It's the nature of stand-by. The gate agents have no control over it. If you want a guaranteed seat, pay for one. (Yes, I know I complain, but I don't do it to the agents, and I do it with the understanding that my ability to fly standby is a privilege I don't have to be granted).
4) Wait at the gate for the 45 minutes before your flight. It's a pain in the ass for everyone involved when they have to page you over and over again to show up and get on the plane because you're too intent on getting your Burger King to pay attention. You are told exactly when you're able to board, so you should be at the gate. When you're not, you're holding everyone up.
5) Finally, be understanding that things happen. Planes are late, flights get overbooked, luggage gets lost, but life goes on. Luggage is found, you'll eventually get where you're going, and bitching at the people who are not responsible is not going to do anyone any good. (And for those of you who take issue with flights regularly being overbooked, it's because people generally don't show up. The flight Sunday night was overbooked by five seats, but five people didn't show up. I bet those last five tickets sold were glad they did overbook, because that means they got seats that ended up being available. It's a small percentage of overbooked flights that actually need to ask for volunteers to take another flight.)
Okay, done ranting now. And finally going to get back to Boston! Yay! Just hoping my bag (yes, I had to check it AGAIN) gets there...

Oy...

Okay, have I mentioned before how much I HATE travelling? Yes, I realize it wouldn't be quite so bad if I didn't fly stand-by, but really, when my choice s having flexible options (it took me to the end of July to decide when my last day at work was going to be) and flying for free, with the chance I will get bumped, or having to plan well in advance and pay $600-700, what choice is there? Do you know how much other fun I can have with that money? Or more realistically, what other bills I can pay... So needless to say, it's standby for me. And this is how my day has gone so far:
4:30am - Wake up
5:00am - Leave for the airport
6:00am - Leave Flagstaff
8:10am - Arrive at LAX
12:10pm - Learn that there's no room on the 12:30 flight to Seattle (the flight my luggage was going on, with or without me... I hope it's here waiting)
1:10pm - Find out there is no room on the 1:30 flight
3:10pm - Find out there is no room on the 3:30 flight
4:20pm - Manage to get one of the last two seats on the 4:30 flight
7:20pm - Arrive in Seattle
7:30pm - Get an overpriced cocktail and sandwich, and debate whether to try to make the overnight flight to Boston (which is currently oversold by 5) at 10:20pm, or staying in Seattle, which would require waiting for my sister to get off work at 11:00pm, only to be back here tomorrow to try to catch that overnight flight.

Okay, not really much of a debate there. I have to be here either way. I'm going to try it. However, that nearly guarantees a nearly $50 cab ride home in Boston, and no certainty whether I can even get into my apartment because the friend who has my keys hasn't been returning my phone calls... I hate travelling. I just want to be home. In my own bed. In my own space. Sigh...

Rain

THIS is how rain is supposed to be. A nice cool drizzle, flashes of lighting, rolling thunder, and a nice cool, gentle breeze bringing the fresh air into the house. Its a lovely monsoon storm tonight. It's so peaceful. Even if Moby is rather frightened... It's just such a lovely night, and, I must confess, it's wonderful having the house to myself for a bit. I was able to clean up the kitchen, and keep it clean as I cooked (something my roommates don't seem to believe in). So now I'm just able to relax and watch the storm as I wait for the aloo gobi to finish cooking.
On a side note, this is only the second time I've tried making Indian food. Like many people, I'm rather intimidated by Indian cooking, but I think that there's no real reason for that. I had some cauliflower waiting to be used, and a bunch of potatoes, so I decided to give it a go... I'll let you know how it turns out!

Ouch...

So day two of pain, which I'm told may still get worse yet. What, may you ask, has caused this pain? A very long hike on Sunday, resulting in sore legs and even more sore back, thanks to a lovely sunburn I obtained on the hike down. My very dear friend suggested that we hike up Mt. Eldon, something I had never done before. We had been standing in the parking lot of Salsa Brava when she suggested it, and I looked up at the mountain and said, "Sure! Sounds like fun!" So we agreed to meet up about 7am on Sunday morning with snacks and water and I would borrow some hiking boots from her and we would be on our way. Clearly, I did not fully think this through. Which is perhaps a good thing, because I had I done so, I may not have been so quick to agree. But in spite of it all, I am glad I did it. So Sunday comes, we find ourselves running a little late, but by 7:45 we're ready to start out. It wasn't supposed to be too hot that day, and it began as a rather cool morning. We start the hike with her dog, who guilted her into being brought along, and found the first mile went rather quickly. Only at that time did I think to ask how long it was. I found out it was a five mile hike total, if we made it all the way to the very top. Even then, I didn't think much of it. After all, walking five miles isn't bad. What I failed to take into consideration, however, was the incline. It turns out that the two and a half miles up the mountain include gaining nearly 3,000 feet in elevation. And about 2/3 of the way up, I began realizing what exactly I had gotten myself into. As we turn another corner and see yet another steep switch-back, the only things that kept me going were stubbornness (I had come more than half-way, damn it, I wasn't giving up!) and, when that failed, the knowledge that by that point, it was closer to go up than back down. And every time my friend pointed out the top as we got closer and said, "See? It's not that much further," I countered with, "That still looks like a long way away..." Which it was. In spite of the people we passed who said we weren't far from the top. And who said, "Once you get to the saddle, it's pretty gentle grade the rest of the way up." Gentle my ass! (Yes, there was also a lot of swearing to get me up to the top as well... I had read an article that said a scientific study found that swearing helps you deal with pain, and I certainly believe it). I had never before done a hike that intense. I've hiked before, even fairly long distances before, but never anything that far up. And I haven't done any hiking of any kind in the past two years. Boston is pretty much flat, and I hadn't been out of the city much. So needless to say, convincing my legs to keep climbing became a bit of a challenge. It wasn't so much that they hurt then, or even necessarily felt tired. It just felt as if they were refusing to move. My slight consolation is that as we met people on the way up, they did admit that it was a difficult hike. But somehow I had it in my head that it was supposed to be no big deal. Now, however, I know better. Once we reached the top (okay, so once I reached the top, as my friend was already up there waiting for me), I was so thankful to be able to sit and recover a bit. However, the view of the city from there is actually pretty ugly. Oh well, at least on the other side we had a nice view of other mountains. The way down was better, but going down a steep, narrow path with loose dirt and rocks in many places presented its own set of challenges. And by that time, we were already into the hottest part of the day (which turned out hotter than anticipated), with most of the trail in the direct sun. And I hadn't brought the sunscreen with to re-apply. Somehow I forgot that it doesn't last forever. So now I have a lovely burn line in the shape of the Camelback I had on. Oh, and we ran out of water on the way down. Needless to say, I was thankful to finally see the car. We all were. Probably the dog most of all. He was panting so hard the entire car shook. When I got home, I was only able to stagger in, wash the thick layer of dirt off my face, and fall into bed, not to move for about an hour. That evening, I was pleasantly surprised by the lack of pain, and thought it may have been more just an energy draining hike than an ass-kicking hike. Yesterday morning I found out how wrong I was. Ouch. And it's hard to say which was a worse pain, the legs or the sunburn. (For those of you who don't know, I'm normally extremely pale, so I burn quickly and badly.) Even having the burn covered, it still hurts to have the heat of the sun on it, which makes going outside during the day difficult. It hurts to even have it covered, because that means something is touching it. It hurts to lay down, which makes sleeping rather difficult. It hurts to move my arms because that means the burnt skin is being stretched and it rubs against the fabric covering it. But I suppose it wouldn't be a summer spent in Arizona without at least one burn...
Okay, I think I'm done whining about this now.

Ah, summer...

Okay, so that didn't take too long before I was willing to re-write...

So for those of you who were unaware, I have spent my summer in beautiful Flagstaff, Arizona, working for a private defense attorney and living with my occasionally crazy, though always fun, friend and three giant dogs. I had a few misgivings about being away from Boston for so long, but soon learned to readjust to the completely different pace of life in Flag. I've learned to come to terms with doing defense work, mainly by the comforting realization that most of these people are complete idiots and have voluntarily confessed so they're going to jail (and before anyone who does defense work takes issue with this, I'm talking about specific cases here, not defendants in general, and these guys have done some pretty heinous things). I've enjoyed working in downtown Flagstaff, where I make the daily mid-morning trip to Late for the Train for some tasty caffeine concoction or another (totally hooked on Retro-Metros and Mate Lattes). I've enjoyed being able to have lunch out on the patio on Heritage Square, where I see a myriad of entertaining people pass, and listen in to the mayor talk about her birthday party, playing Monopoly, and Twittering about something they laughed at on the square but making it sound very official. I've enjoyed wandering downtown after work or on the weekends, stopping in for a drink at the Wine Loft or with a bunch of attorneys at Rendezvous, finding random music festivals down on the Square, and of course, trying on nearly every hat at the Theatrikos rummage sale before parading around downtown with friends on a Saturday night wearing hats and very odd other costume pieces (which, by the way, we only received about two odd looks for and one question...did we really not stand out? Scary...). I've enjoyed taking the doggies on a walk up on the mesa. I've enjoyed taking the yoga classes in the morning before work (in spite of all my internal swearing by the last sun salutation and my hands are slipping off my mat during downward dog, which is not yet a "restful" pose for me) and in the evenings for deep-stretching yin. I've enjoyed the Sunday morning Farmer's Market, with the fresh, local vegetables, bread, cheese, and yummy breakfast sandwiches from NJ Pizza. I've enjoyed the mountains, the sunshine, the trees, the monsoons, the slower pace. I've enjoyed seeing friends that I haven't seen in years. I've enjoyed the summer dinner parties on the patio with amazing friends, amazing food, and amazing wine. I've enjoyed taking Argentine Tango lessons, even if I never could quite get the hang of the motion. I've enjoyed the serenity of not living right on Comm Ave, even if the stillness of the night is often interrupted by the train. In short, I've enjoyed my summer. But now it is coming to an end. In less than a week, I will be leaving Flagstaff, heading back to Boston and classes and the crazy pace of life in the city. Back to waiting for the T, walking to school, studying... But also back to the good part of Boston, the friends there, the fun we have, the city I've come to love. I'll miss Flagstaff summer, but I'm looking forward to being back!

Really freakin long time...

But as I was half-way through a really long update, this computer (which I have determined hates me) decided to, of it's own volition, erase it all and reload the page. I so don't want to re-write all that now, since this is basically for my own need to write rather than anyone to read, and I've already written it once (even if it was lost). Another time then. Hopefully when the computer is being less of a pain in the ass.

International Law Today!

Okay, first exam today! By 4pm, I will be officially done with International Law. It actually doesn't scare me nearly as much as it did a couple of weeks ago. Believe it or not, it is pretty straight forward. The hardest thing is remembering which treaty is which (Is it the 3rd Geneva Convention or the 4th that details standards of treatment of POWs? Third, I think...). There are ten thousand Geneva Conventions, Vienna Conventions, Hague Conventions... And of course, as we learned about the provisions in class, it was merely "Article 5 says...", not "3rd GC, Article 5 says..." Oh well. We get our notes for the essays, as well as all the other materials from class. Hopefully this exam will be a success. Wish me luck!

Crim Pro or Kitchen Experiments?

Nothing like trying to study all day to make my mind wander in three thousand directions... So in between answering questions for the 1Ls, trying to get my Lexis account to work again and listening to the Barbri lecture, I decided something sweet would be really kind of yummy (anyone else get that urge when faced with hours upon hours of studying?). As I have a tendency to not normally have sweet stuff on hand (aside from dried Turkish figs...but they weren't quite going to cut it at the moment), I began trying to think of what I could make. This was even more of a problem, because I've been trying to use things up (I'm leaving way too soon), and therefore have an extreme shortage of flour. So my fabulous thought for lemon poppy seed bread went nowhere. Instead, I decided to go for peanut butter cookies, based on the simplest recipe I've ever come across, as it does not include flour. However, either I remembered the recipe wrong, or it just doesn't quite work the same with natural peanut butter. So I decided to throw a few more things in, and wound up with some fabulous PB&J cookies, with a little banana. First time I've actually made up my own recipe for baking (somehow that always frightens me more than cooking without a recipe), and I have to say it was a total success! And now as the last pan is about to come out of the oven, it's back to crim pro. The warm cookie helps take the sting out.

Oh Scalia...

I love the humor of Scalia, even when it is unintentional...

How Do You Solve the Problem of Scalia?
The razor-thin line between obscenity and bad judgment.
By Dahlia Lithwick


Leave it to Justice Antonin Scalia to trigger a nationwide debate about the hermeneutics of chin flips.

But first, a brief glance at the procedural history: It's undisputed that a newspaper reporter approached Scalia as he left a special Red Mass for lawyers and politicians at Boston's Cathedral of the Holy Cross. It's also not disputed that when the reporter, Laurel Sweet, asked what Scalia had to say to critics who question his impartiality in light of his Roman Catholic beliefs, he offered a familiar hand gesture, adding, "You know what I say to those people?" and, evidently by way of explanation, "That's Sicilian."

Where the parties differ is regarding the meaning of the gesture in question. The Boston Herald initially characterized it as "obscene." Supreme Court spokeswoman Kathy Arberg carefully described it, by contrast, as "a hand off the chin gesture that was meant to be dismissive," but not obscene.

The lower courts immediately issued conflicting opinions: Evidently in some jurisdictions, the chin flick "is a gesture of contempt, somewhat less rude than giving a person 'the finger.' When used in the United States, it usually means 'Bug off, I've had enough of you.' Not a polite gesture, but not a particularly hostile one, either," according to one blog. A concurrence by Wonkette (complete with an illustrated appendix) reached a similarly benign conclusion: "Justice Scalia's gesture wasn't a full-fledged flipping of the proverbial bird. But it still wasn't exactly the most polite of actions; in some quarters, it could be interpreted as pretty darn close to giving someone the middle finger." Dissenters disagreed, finding that the gesture, whether chin flip, finger, or otherwise, is improper. The "thought of flipping somebody off in church, minutes after receiving the Eucharist, is just, well, beyond shocking, insulting, infuriating."

The issue might have died there—with a largely amused nation in good-natured agreement that the equivocal gesture was par for the course for Scalia's usual belligerence and bombast—were it not for his interlocutory appeal, filed yesterday with the Boston Herald. In a surprising (though not unprecedented) letter to the editor, Scalia disputes the finding that the alleged gesture was "obscene." Dismissing the reporter as "an up-and-coming 'gotcha' star" (and inserting some trademark Scalia wordplay involving her name—"o-so-sweetly") the justice clarified that the gesture was limited to "fanning the fingers of my right hand under my chin."

Fanning. Not flipping. Please take note of the significant legal distinction.

Scalia goes on to cite Luigi Barzini's book The Italians (query whether this constitutes the citation of foreign law) and pleads that "The extended fingers of one hand moving slowly back and forth under the raised chin means: 'I couldn't care less. It's no business of mine. Count me out.' This is the gesture made in 1860 by the grandfather of Signor O.O. of Messina as an answer to Garibaldi."

Scalia goes on to accuse Sweet of leaping to ethnic-slur conclusions: "From watching too many episodes of the Sopranos, your staff seems to have acquired the belief that any Sicilian gesture is obscene—especially when made by an 'Italian jurist.' " This in turn led to the Herald's decision to empanel a grand jury of Sopranos actors in order to shed further light on the meaning of the hand flip in question. Again, however, unanimity was impossible to achieve: "It's an obscenity," Joseph Gannascoli, who plays capo Vito Spatafore, opined. "It's not like grabbing your crotch, not that bad an obscenity. … But it's an obscenity. It's something you would do after paying a bookie, to your bookie, but not something you would do in church."

Not so, said John Fiore, who played Sopranos capo Gigi Cestone. "It's not that bad, but I wouldn't do it to my mother. No way. Would I do it in church? These days, maybe. It depends if the priest was giving me the hairy eyeball." Black's Law Dictionary contains no definition of "the hairy eyeball," nor does Title 18 of the U.S. Code.

Concurring in Fiore's result, but offering a separate opinion, was Steve Schirripa, who plays Bobby "Bacala" Baccalieri: "Ah, I think he meant 'to hell with ya.' " Frank Santorelli, who plays Bada Bing bartender Georgie, joined with the plurality: "It's kind of a light gesture … not a vicious one. It's not as bad as the (middle) finger."

The editors at the Boston Herald then tried to amend their pleading, styling the late filing as within their right to "get the last word." Obliquely referencing the Fiore dissent, the Herald conceded that the gesture at issue may not have been obscene, but added—in what is surely dicta—"Maybe so, but it's still not something you'd do to your mother." They appended to the record the photographic evidence of the gesture in question and the testimony of the photojournalist who snapped the shot, to wit: "The judge paused for a second, then looked directly into my lens and said, 'To my critics, I say, 'Vaffanculo.' " The Herald helpfully translates, "(expletive) you."

Some folks on the political right are already in raptures about Scalia's "rare clarity." His kiss-off is even being spun, amazingly, as a justified response to an insulting attack on his religious beliefs. Scalia is once again the victim, it seems, of cunning liberal attempts "to make him into news." He is being stalked and baited by the liberal media in the hopes that he will say something that will result in a demand for his recusal in future cases. My God, but we liberal journalists are cunning bastards. We just won't stop hitting poor Scalia's fist with our enormous, spiteful chins.

Dahlia Lithwick is a Slate senior editor.

Article URL: http://www.slate.com/id/2138117/