No long philosophical ramblings today. Porsche turned 25 last week so she and Aristocat had a birthday cookout at their place. It was tons of fun, despite the shot of Henny she forced on me that made my lip go numb (true story). Sunny was there, along with Charles Marrero, my LB and his new fiancee, and several other members of our crew. It was crew love all around, LOL. It was just fun to let loose, chill out and forget about grades and jobs and family drama. A great way to start the summer!
The Doldrums
Quarterlife crisis in full effect.
I have reached a point in my life where I cannot plan my next move and I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
Tex has decided that if he doesn’t have a full time job by the end of the summer, he’ll start studying for the GRE and applying to grad school in Texas. So, I would be starting an out of state job search and hoping against hope that something pans out.
If he does get a full time job, then no worries. I’ll move in with Tex and volunteer at the legal aid clinic to make connections. If he gets a job by the end of October, I can even plan to take the bar wherever he is.
On top of that, I have no idea what I want to do. That’s a lie. TFA is a very attractive option because I have always had an interest in, and appreciation for, education. It buys me time, you get to choose your location and I really believe it would be a worthwhile, fun experience. I’d have summers off to network and find my way into my dream job. I think of my summers interning at Planned Parenthood and with the tax union and it was pure bliss. I didn’t want to leave. In fact, the tax union was hiring for an entry level position and had I not had a year of undergrad left, I would have interviewed for it. Mailing fundraising letters to potential donors, researching legislation, going to seminars, networking dinners and conferences…I loved it! I had a purpose when I woke up in the morning. Sure, there were boring parts, mostly because I worked faster than they could find things for me to do. Even so, I had more fun being bored the last 3hrs of the day at those internships than having a full plate in law school.
I was talking to my sister about how I’m dreading seeing my dad this weekend. I know he’ll grill me about my internship at the legal aid clinic and what I’m going to do. Since I’m technically a volunteer and not a real intern, I’ll be floating through the departments. “I’ll be doing lawyer stuff. What does he want me to say? I’ll go to the law library and look up some cases, interview a client, shadow the attorneys in court…sheesh. It’s not that exciting.” My sister replied, “But you’re supposed to sound excited.”
Ahhhh. I see now.
Although her tone was mocking and we had a good laugh poking fun at our father’s busybody tendencies, her comment stuck in my craw. I’ve been perusing career blogs looking up job hunting and interview tips (as much for Tex as for myself) and every time I came across tips like “sell yourself”, “ask questions so you seem interested”, my stomach churned. Sell myself how? By law school standards, my grades are aggressively mediocre. Why would I ask questions about what lawyers do? It’s boring and I don’t like it (pineapples). And the simple fact is that I just can’t get excited about the (traditional) practice of law. I want to be outside of the system where I have the flexibility to help people in creative ways. So while I’m sure my legal internship will be a worthwhile experience, and I that I will enjoy the office environment, at the end of the day that’s not where I want to end up after graduation. I could tolerate a job at a public interest law firm, and even have more good days than bad, but I suspect that I just wouldn’t LOVE it the way I would love working at a nonprofit.
So now that I know that…here’s hoping I can land a job within the next 12 months. Because moving back home with my parents would LITERALLY drive me crazy, but that’s a post for another day.
Peanut Gallery
Now that school is out for the summer, I’ve had some time to catch up on all the films I missed. One of them was just terrible beyond my lowest expectations, and that got me to thinking about other movies that were better and worse than expected. It would take too long to write out the plots so I’m assuming you’ve seen these movies, and if not Google is your friend 
WORSE
The Grey- Okay, so the previews came off as sort of a man vs. wild type idea, and Liam Neeson usually kicks ass in his moody way. ‘The Grey’ was not that movie. If you’re on the verge of killing yourself but not quite sure, DO NOT WATCH THIS FILM because it just may push you over the edge. In addition to being deeply depressing, it was like the adult version of that book “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” if Alexander had been on a plane that crashed in the Alaskan wilderness with a bunch of folks who had no clue how to survive. I spent the rest of the day holding on to Tex and making him promise he would never take me to Alaska.
Sucker Punch- I was skeptical, but it’s not often that a steampunk-ish movie hits theaters and even less often that said film has a female protagonist, so I gave it a chance. I didn’t like this movie because there was so much potential, but in the end chick was just straight up crazy. Props to the whole “insanity as freedom for the oppressed” but I just felt like the execution was lazy.
Takers- *deep sigh* I probably shouldn’t have watched this since it was pitched like an urban Ocean’s 11, but I adore the Ocean’s film franchise and I couldn’t say no to an ensemble cast full of sexy men. Turns out that eye candy was the only good thing coming out of this movie.
Repo Men- This movie hurt my feelings because it was really good up until the last 30 minutes. The premise was a genius commentary on the adverse effects of privatization in the face of government inaction–in this case, a lack of universal health care. I mean, buying artificial organs to save your life, only to have them forcibly repossessed as you die on the ground when you can’t pay up? Mind = blown. I was disappointed, although not surprised, that Jude Law’s character didn’t beat the system. What really bothered me was that he got so close and didn’t even get rewarded with a good clean death. No, he’s being kept alive (heartless, mind you!!!!) on life support, dreaming that he did get away with it, even though subconsciously he knows it’s just a dream. BOOOOOOOO!!!
BETTER
John Carter- Just goes to show you that you shouldn’t bet against Disney. They only get wrong like once every decade, and they didn’t miss on this one. It was classic sci-fi with heart, and while the movie as a whole was rather predictable the actors really breathed life into it. Side note: thank you to Taylor Kitsch for delivering a credible southern accent!
Friends With Benefits- I knew this movie wouldn’t suck, but I still wasn’t sure how far your basic “friends with benefits turning into true love” premise could be elevated. Thanks to the casting, the jokes were actually funny. And Woody Harrelson’s completely macho portrayal of a gay man was great–it’s about time, they don’t all wear tight pants and love Broadway. But what really took this up a level for me was the way Justin Timberlake’s character got over his fear of commitment–by dealing with his father’s dementia and realizing that life is too short to waste pushing away someone you have a great connection with. Now THAT’S some real sh*t, and believable to boot.
Safe- I love watching Jason Statham kick ass but his movies have ranged from unique & memorable (The Transporter) to utterly ridiculous (Shoot ‘Em Up). This movie landed somewhere in between, and the writers resisted making the happy ending too sugary sweet. I don’t know if it’s something I’ll own on DVD, but it was great way to spend a lazy afternoon.
Haywire-I expected it to be good, but I was actually blown away. The mood was very much like The Italian Job, but darker. FINALLY, a kickass heroine who gets to be just as tough as the boys without compromising her femininity. She shows no mercy when it’s appropriate, but is never portrayed as “bitchy”. On top of all that she has a poker face to rival James Bond’s, a bangin’ athletic body that actually looks equipped to handle the numerous fights she gets into, two romantic entanglements, and a savvy father. My favorite scene–she relaxes by drinking wine and cleaning her gun, and rocks a head scarf. I can’t make this stuff up. See this movie, you will NOT regret it!!!
It’s a Celebration, Snitches
Today, after six years of hard work and dedication in the midst of struggle…Tex is OFFICIALLY a B.S. in Computer Engineering from the formidable, rigorous, illustrious, world-renowned Georgia Institute of Technology! *cue applause, strobe lights & confetti*
My man is finally free of his mistress (also known as homework, lab & senior design) and we are one step closer to our happy ending. Or beginning, more like. He is as yet unemployed, but he had some interviews over the past few weeks that went well and hiring cycles are slow, so I remain hopeful. Plus, he now has more time to dedicate to job hunting and engineering is an in-demand field and a growing industry, even in this economy. I’ve been steadily praying over it and I know God has something for him! Tex has worked really hard and he truly has a passion for computer engineering. This is what he’s wanted to do since he was a kid and I’m so excited to see him live out his dreams.
Of course that begs the question, what is my dream? To be happy, I suppose. Honestly, I’m one of those Renaissance folks who was born in the wrong era (or maybe just born too poor, lol). If I were a billionaire I’d spend my days mastering all kinds of different things. Musical instruments, jazz performance, gourmet cooking, writing, traveling, mentoring black youth, lobbying for various causes on Capitol Hill…but since I’m a regular person who has to work for a living, I have to settle on something. I find myself increasingly drawn to the idea of education and education reform. Up until I began studying law, school was my favorite thing in the world. I remember vehemently debating the merits (or lack thereof) of the No Child Left Behind Act when it was first passed–I had to have been in the 8th or 9th grade then, but it was big deal and I combed the newspapers after my parents were through for news of it. I was in the Talented and Gifted program from the fourth grade on, which provided some of my most memorable educational experiences to date. Still, it was an imperfect solution to the limitations of public school. I’d love to teach at a charter or private school (like the Paideia School in Atlanta).
I’ve made up my mind to apply to Teach For America and see where that goes. I also might go ahead and take the GACE anyway and see if I can get hired through the alternative teacher certification process. In most states, if you have a degree in a subject area and had a decent GPA, you can teach without an education degree. My sister teaches music, and I think she has some study materials leftover from when she had to take the test. I’m eligible to get certified for history and political science, and I love those subjects anyway so I know passing the test wouldn’t be a problem. Incidentally, both of those are WAY cheaper than the bar exam. Popular opinion is split on whether people who don’t want to practice should take the bar anyway–some say it’s not worth it, others say it’s an indication of your ability to finish what you started. Aside from the fact that including prep classes, that’s a $4500 investment in something I’ve pretty much established I don’t want to do, it’s a beast of an exam. It’s been such a struggle getting through law school, that I don’t know if I can muster up the motivation a mere week after graduating to 12 hour days of intensive study for eight whole weeks. In law school, at least you have time to do other things you love. In order to pass the bar, you must make it your life. Eat with, sleep with, heck, marry your study materials or else you will be doing it all over again in six months!
My dad offered to front me half the cost. As of today, he’s only given me $150 which I can easily give back–it’s been sitting in my savings account for going on three months now as I’ve been stalling on whether or not to make my official deposit with Kaplan for the prep class. And the clock keeps on ticking…
…but that’s a question I’ll deal with tomorrow. Today, I will bask in the joy of the moment, try not to look stupid in front of my future in-laws & their extended family, and make sure Tex knows I’m incredibly proud of him.
The next step
So I was reading a post at Sincerely, Jess and as usual she dropped some knowledge that really made me think. Jess doesn’t believe in coincidences and I’m starting to think maybe she has it right.
It’s finals week here at law school and as usual for this time of year, I hate my life. I did better at actually paying attention in class this semester, and while I’m studying as hard as I can given the circumstances, I remember immersing myself much more during 1L fall and before that, in undergrad. I just don’t care. The best part of law school, to me, is everything OUTSIDE of class–like getting elected president of the Black Law Students Association. So I study just as much as I need to get a decent grade. My apathy really hit me in my exam yesterday. Normally I read and re-read my outlines until I have them damn near memorized. I didn’t do that much for my Domestic Relations final and there were a couple of questions where I thought, If I had studied harder I’d know this pat, but I just shrugged it off. The professor allowed us a one page cheat sheet and mine had plenty of white space on it because I used margins and refused to go lower than 9.5pt font–I wasn’t interesting in working that hard for an answer. My classmates had eliminated all margins and crammed an entire outline on one page in 5pt font O_O I looked at their notes and thought, Clearly I’m doing this wrong.
I have my other two serious exams tomorrow morning and Friday (both open book, but curved, and the rest of my Type A+++++ peers always do the most up to and Including cheating). Have I spent every waking moment cramming? NOPE. I briefed IP cases and highlighted important sections of my outline last night. I will be reviewing an Evidence outline and doing an IP practice exam later this afternoon and this evening. Other than that, I’m chilling. I woke up at 10:30am, worked out, vacuumed, watched The Devil’s Advocate on tv, put in a load of laundry and poked around Facebook and Google Reader and now I’m blogging. I just don’t have it in me. And unlike everyone else who is filling their 3L schedule with bar exam subjects and practice electives, I’m signed up for stuff like Therapeutic Jurisprudence and Comparative Law. Oh, and a four hour practicum so that’s less time I have to spend at school and one less final.
I take solace in reading–Game of Thrones, currently. The written word holds a neverending fascination for me. Writing & reading & learning have always been the things I loved to do more than anything else, but the practical side of me thought, I can always do that on the side but I need a “real” career to make money. 2/3 done with law school and I’m realizing that while I would make a good lawyer, I’m not at all excited to be one. Last night I thought, I will NEVER again do something just because it makes sense. A law degree will no doubt help me in whatever I choose to do, and I’ve learned a lot that is useful, but I’m not sure that will outweigh the three years I spend doing something that bores me. makes me realize that maybe that’s why I had to go to law school…to be forced to see that I’m meant to do something else.
So yes, I will finish law school but I’m not sure I even want to take the bar. I really want to apply to Teach for America. Education is something I really care about and I love to impart knowledge. And one day (sooner rather than later, I hope) I want to complete an MA program in creative writing. I know I have talent, but I’ve always wanted to immerse myself in creating poems, short stories, even novels. And writing is a craft you have to train for just like anything else. I know that everybody is going to look at me crazy, especially my father, but I don’t want to waste any more time than I have to being unhappy. YOLO.
Burdens
I love my mother. It’s important that I lead with that, lest you think the following contents of this post mean that I hate her. I most definitely do not. Once upon a time, my mother and I were as close as night and day.
Then my parents got divorced.
My mother has struggled with depression for some time. I know she was raped by the church pastor when she was a teen, and assaulted again in college (though that man, fortunately, had a conscience and changed his mind). Her first pregnancy was a miscarriage, and she suffered post-partum depression after she had my siblings and I. However, in my childhood I remember my mother as extremely loving and attentive. She was wildly creative–one year I had a Barbie birthday cake where the cake formed the skirt of the doll’s ballgown. My mom had a garden, and imbued us with an appreciation for and a curiosity about nature.
Still, my parents were prone to arguments. They didn’t happen often, but when they did, my father shouted and my mother cried and they were both moody for days afterward. Once, my mom asked me if they should get divorced, and with a child’s honesty I replied, “Maybe.” My parents are polar opposites, and my best friend, whose parents were divorced, seemed happy. She got twice the presents at every holiday and she went to her dad’s house every weekend, even when her mother remarried. I figured if that was what divorce meant, it wasn’t so terrible.
When I was 13, it actually happened. We went through family therapy in which I found out my dad had cheated on my mom, more than once. I was upset, but he was still my father. I still wanted him to come to my recitals and award ceremonies, but soon realized that this desire was seen by mother as a slight. She took to ask us who we loved more, and when my dad came to pick us up, he didn’t come in the house. From that point on, my sister took on a lot of the work of raising me–she was the one who talked to me about college, taught me how to drive and took me to get my license, lectured me when I stayed out past curfew, got me up for church on Sundays, hugged me when my mom came home from work and spent the rest of the night in bed.
Over the last decade my mother has become even more depressed and emotional. She is a hoarder–always has been, but my dad is a neat freak and threw stuff out with enough regularity to keep our house at a tolerable level of clutter. Post divorce, the house was/is literally bursting at the seams with clothes and papers and knickknacks. It makes me feel claustrophobic so my visits tend to be brief. On summers home from college, I stayed with my dad because there LITERALLY was no place to stay even though my mother lived in a 2 bedroom apartment. She now lives in a 3 bedroom house and it’s still the same. She’s been in and out of therapy and doesn’t take her medication–at times because she couldn’t afford it, at times because she just didn’t feel like it.
My mother was a homemaker up until the divorce, although she has a Bachelor’s degree in business administration. Still, she hasn’t had a full time job. Part of this is because she isn’t technologically savvy. We have tried to help her, but she gets frustrated and gives up. The local library has free tech classes for seniors but she doesn’t go to those either. She is also notoriously absentminded, and has been known to lose her rent money. She’s terrible with money in general because she is an emotional shopper the way some people are emotional eaters. Lately, she keeps having accidents and other health problems, several of which she just revealed to us, that she has yet to seek treatment for. She can’t pay her bills and I don’t even want to know what her debt situation is like. And the icing on the cake is that she’s been dating the most obnoxious, distasteful man on the planet for eight years who can only see her 2 days a week, has no intention of proposing and says they can’t move in together unless he wins the lottery.
I am tired. Tired of not being able to talk to my mother like a rational adult. Tired of the emergencies. Tired of the guilt trips. Tired of being reminded that she gave her best years to take care of us and now it’s our turn to return the favor. Tired of all five of her siblings turning a blind eye as she self-destructs. Tired of my father being blamed for everything that is wrong in her life. Tired of her inability to see that she can do better. Tired of trying to convince her that I still love her. Tired of her refusal to take responsibility for any of her choices.
Now I have been informed by my sister that we are just around the corner from worst case scenario; that we have to find her a new place to live; that we have to take control of her finances; that if she can’t work I may have to quit school and help take care of her full time, and Tex and I will not be able to start our lives together.
It shouldn’t be my burden. But it is.
I Feel Pretty
As I get older, my political views about societal oppression have extended beyond racism into sexism. And although I don’t believe that traditional gender roles are incontrovertibly evil, I do chafe at the unrealistic expectations that patriarchy imposes on women. I reject the idea that in order to be successful at womanhood, I must be all things to the man in my life and physically perfect in every way. I love clothes, shoes and purses. I have enough magazines to create a dozen poster size collages. I love stepping out in a cheery shade of nail polish. But I don’t need any of those things to feel pretty.
In some ways, I’m a bit of an anomaly. I have no piercings (not even my ears!). I don’t wear makeup. I don’t wear jewelry (although that’s mostly because I hate the look of anything fake, am allergic to costume jewelry and can’t afford the real stuff). But sometimes when I admit this to other young ladies, they look at me funny. “You don’t get your eyebrows done? I mean, you could just get them arched and keep it up yourself” or “Makeup is great, you just have to know how to use it!” I’ve never had a Brazilian wax (and don’t plan to). I dare not admit the frequency of which I shave my legs for fear of being stoned!
Okay, that’s an exaggeration. But I’ve never had a guy tell me I needed to touch up my nail polish, that my legs offended his delicate sensibilities, or that I should consider getting a weave. Nothing is wrong with any of those things, and I’m sure most women do them because it makes them feel good. Still, there’s often an undertone in these conversations that these are things you MUST do as a women. I feel just fine walking out the house with nothing on my face but Olay moisturizer and Burt’s Bees lip balm. Jewelry annoys me because I don’t like to clink all day or constantly fish my necklace out of my cleavage (#BATCproblems). Unshaven legs aren’t unhygienic to me; my mom doesn’t shave hers and she was my very first role model of glamour.
I’m not against any of the things that women do to feel more attractive. But for right now, I have an extremely minimal beauty regimen and I’m even more comfortable with that now that I’m relaxer-free. Tex never really noticed my hair before, no matter what I did to it, but now he’s always touching it and telling me that he likes it. I just look at cosmetic advertisements and it’s clear to me now, in a way thatit wasn’t before, that a lot of these products and services are pushed on us in a way that implies “You’re not beautiful without this.” Men walk around with nose hair, beer belliies, five o’clock shadows and gnarly toenails without shame. Why do I have to be primped and plucked and shaved to within an inch of my life?
I suppose this topic is intensely personal to me because I’ve never felt like I fit in. And i spent most of my childhood and teenage years wishing I could just be like everybody else. I’m finally at a place where, even on my bad days I can say “This is me and if that’s not enough for you, too bad.” So for me, putting on makeup or getting a manicure just because that’s what’s acceptable feels like hiding. And I refuse to hide.
That Old Time Religion pt. 2
I was watching Four Weddings last weekend, and one of the couples didn’t kiss until they got engaged. Their second kiss was at the altar after saying “I do” because they wanted to remain chaste until marriage.
That terrified me. Kissing can tell you a lot about your chemistry and sexual compatibility with someone. I’ve been on a date with a guy who was really attractive to me right up until we kissed. I mean, we liked the same things, he made me laugh, he was witty, all that good stuff. But the kiss was completely bad. It was lips touching lips and nothing more than that. We’re still good friends to this day, but I shudder to think what would have happened if we were the extreme wait until marriage types!
If you’re a longtime reader of the blog, you know that I’m not down with promiscuity. I believe that sex is both a physical and spiritual act–if your body is a temple, you ought not to let just any old body up in there. I believe in God, but as I get older I have a harder time calling myself a Christian. I think the Bible has a lot of wisdom to offer, but it’s God’s words as filtered through the imperfect mind of man and so I think a lot of those rules are restrictive ideas of what man thinks is appropriate.
So no, I don’t think premarital sex is a sin. I think a sin is something that hurts you and/or someone else–lying, cheating, and killing definitely. Addictions and abuse (even to something as benign as food), yes. I think sex is only a sin if coercion, force, or obligation is involved. If you have to lie to a girl to get her to sleep with you–that sex is sinful. If you have sex with your boyfriend because you think he’ll leave you otherwise–that sex is sinful. But if you both are doing it freely, out of care for the other person–how is that a bad thing?
I don’t say this to bash anyone who believes in saving their virginity for marriage. I get it, sex comes with a lot of responsibility and potential consequences. Shoot, people can get addicted to it! So I totally respect that some people feel the need to protect themselves from all of that. At the same time, I think there’s a middle ground between total abstinence and the sex free-for-all that popular culture subscribes to. I’m glad my parents were open minded about it–they made it clear that sex wasn’t dirty or shameful, but they also made it clear that sex wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
That’s something I hope to pass on to my children–an open-mindedness and curiosity about life in general. Religion is supposed to lift us up, not tear us down, and there’s nothing to be gained by wracking ourselves with guilt over a perfectly natural act.
Justice for Trayvon
I haven’t been blogging very much lately, but I wanted to add my voice to the outcry about the Trayvon Martin case.
Trayvon was a happy, well-adjusted 17 year old boy walking home from the convenience store with some candy and a drink. George Zimmerman, a 28 year old vigilante, followed him in his car and called 911 to report a “suspicious” figure walking through the neighborhood. The operator said the police were on their way. Zimmerman said he was following the figure and the operator replied, “we don’t need you to do that.” Zimmerman ignored their advice, got out of his car and approached Trayvon anyway.
A few minutes later, Trayvon was dead. Shot through the chest at close range.
Even though the FBI and the US Department of Justice are investigating, and the case is going to a grand jury, Zimmerman still has not been arrested. Why?
Because Trayvon is black, and Zimmerman is not. Point blank period. There are still far too many people in this country who believe that black people, aren’t really people at all. Don’t believe me? Check out the evidence below. The police only need “probable cause” to make an arrest. Probable cause is the lowest evidentiary standard (the highest being “beyond a reasonable doubt”). Read the facts below. If you think that isn’t probable cause, then you might be racist or a sociopath or both.
Zimmerman did not belong to a registered neighborhood watch group, and violated neighborhood watch guidelines by carrying a weapon.
Several neighbors called in to 911 to report the shooting and said that they heard “a boy” screaming and crying for help.
Zimmerman has previously been reported by neighbors for his overly aggressive tactics.
Travyon weighed 140 pounds to Zimmerman’s 250.
The senators who created Florida’s self-defense law believe Zimmerman is in violation. (Any first year law student can tell you that self-defense is no defense if you are the aggressor.)
Trayvon called his girlfriend on the way home to say that someone was following him. She heard him get approached by Zimmerman.
(Click here, here, here, and here for source info)
That only scratches the surface. If you click through the links, there is a mountain of evidence indicating that Zimmerman, far from being in fear for his life, was a racist murderer. As much progress as African-Americans have made in this country, we still have a long way to go. Zimmerman wasn’t some old white man who remembers the glory days of segregation. He was 26. Some articles have pointed out that Zimmerman speaks Spanish–what of it? Spain is a European country and most of its denizens don’t look much different from Greeks or Italians. It’s only the brown-skinned Spanish speakers (Mexicans, Dominicans, etc) that white folks don’t care for. Zimmerman could easily pass for your average white man on the street.
This really hit home for me because Travyon looks a lot like my big brother did when he was 17. Tall, slender, with a baby face and a big smile. It’s only by the grace of God that my brother didn’t get gunned down by a racist lunatic, as clearly it could happen to anybody. Trayvon wasn’t in the projects (although that’s no excuse even if he had been). He was in a nice neighborhood that apparently, Zimmerman couldn’t believe he belonged in because he was black.
I want justice for Trayvon, so that his parents can sleep a little better at night knowing that their son’s death wasn’t completely meaningless to the world. So that black kids everywhere can feel safer knowing that their lives have the same value as a Jon Benet Ramsey or a Kaylee Anthony. So that I don’t have to tell my son always to wear khakis and button ups instead of jeans and hoodies, lest he be deemed “suspicious” and gunned down. So that America can come one step closer to the ideal of democracy, equality and freedom that all of us deserve for it to be. So that Trayvon Martin’s death will not be in vain.
Justice.
