divine angst

Joy! Ana will be pleased to know that, in addition to the new “contoured fit” offerings at Banana, LOFT now has a “curvy fit” jean–yes, a JEAN–and it fits pretty much perfectly. (I say pretty much because my body is totally not standard and nothing that comes off rack is perfect on me.) The waist cuts in in the right place, the legs fit slim through the thighs, and they don’t show off my crack when I sit down. These things are all HUGE.

I’ll note that LOFT doesn’t have the curvy fit in petites, but that’s OK, because I think LOFT thinks that all short women wear pants with a 28″ inseam. That’s fine for highwaters, but if I want to wear even the slightest hint of a heel (which most short women do), I need at least a 31″ inseam. It’s all good, though–it’s much easier to have a pair of jeans hemmed (with the edge sown back on) than to have the waist taken in. And cheaper.

So, curvy women everywhere–REJOICE! The chains are getting it! Real women have curves!

What’s my favorite part about law school?

There are two answers to this question: the “right” answer and the “real” answer. I’ll start with the “right” answer.

My favorite thing about law school is the intellectual process. It’s a different kind of process, and it’s one I really enjoy. It’s a process that encourages you to dig into the ambiguities, into the nuances, and really dig around. It’s not so much about finding the right answer as it is about exploring the possibilities. I like that. And, as a law student, you can start doing that pretty much right away, as soon as you’ve figured out how to “think like a lawyer.”

I heard someone say recently that the great thing about teaching in law school is that, once the students have gotten through the first year and have started thinking like lawyers, they are less “students” and more “junior colleagues.” I think there’s a lot of truth in that, and it’s really cool. I can participate just as fully in a legal conversation as my professor. I might not have read as much as she has, but I can analyze the legal issues and contribute my ideas just as successfully as she can. It’s empowering, actually.

So that’s the “right” answer for my favorite thing about law school: it’s an intellectually rigorous process that encourages you to swim in the ambiguities and recognizes that you can contribute almost immediately.

The “real” answer? Law school is about four hundred million times better than work, and I go to school with some really cool people. I am also lucky to be in school in a really beautiful campus in a really vibrant city. Because, face it, all that stuff about intellectual rigor pretty much becomes worthless if you can’t enjoy yourself because you hate your classmates or feel opressed by your physical surroundings.

That was fun! Look for more request answers coming up soon!

Waaaa! I just spent thirty minutes composing a really good answer to one of the questions someone asked me. And it DISAPPEARED. Poof! Gone! (I did spill coffee on myself and I may have pushed a button, but I can’t figure out what button I might have pushed. And it went away.)

Boo. I’m sad now. It was a fun entry to write, and now I don’t have time to recompose it. Boo. Boo, boo, boo.

I guess I’ll try again later. Boo.

Apparently no one caught on to my ALL REQUEST WEEK thing I posted earlier this week. And now? THE WEEK IS OVER, BITCHES. No request-answering for YOU. Hah! (That’ll show you!)

Punchy, aren’t I? Maybe it’s because this week wasn’t really any better than last week, and I’ve been insanely busy and I don’t know what I’m doing with half the things I have to do, and I still don’t know where I’ll be working next summer, AND I’M HUNGRY.

All that being said, I am starting to sort of settle into the semester and I am feeling competent again. Not terribly competent, of course, but much more so than I was feeling last week–and for that matter, Monday. I’m getting back into the swing of things–but it’s not a good sign that it’s taken me four weeks of class to get there.

Since that’s about all I can come up with today, I’ve decided to extend my ALL REQUEST WEEK into an ALL REQUEST WEEKEND! That’s right–ask your burning questions–serious, funny, even rhetorical, and I’ll attempt to answer them. Don’t bother worrying if I’ve written about it before, either. If you don’t know, chances are no one else does, either, and who’s going to take the time to dig through the archives to find out, right?

Kids, I am officially OVER the Derek-Meredith plot line. SICK AND TIRED OF IT. It’s boring, it’s done to death, and Ellen Pompeo has about as much charisma as a carrot. Which, by the way, she should eat more of. Preferably smeared with some peanut butter.

Far more interesting is the Christina-Burke plot line, Callie in general, Addison in general, and, frankly, even Izzie’s baking frenzy.

So, Shonda, I think you do GREAT WORK. But the best thing you did for the show was bring Addison in so that Derek and Meredith would NOT be able to be together.

OK. /rant

Oh gag Federal Courts.

Oh gag Federal Courts.

Oh gag Federal Courts.

Oh gag Federal Courts.

I got nothin’.

I’d like to write something, I really would. It would help keep my page formatting from freaking out (stupid CSS), and it might actually be cathartic or enjoyable. But I don’t have anything to write about.

Or, rather, I have things I could write about but I’m not going to write about them. Despite my careful omission of Googleable details around here, I’m not stupid enough to think that I’m at all anoymous. So the things I’d write about are off the table. Ah well. I’m sure I’d drive off all of my readers if I were to wallow in all that self-indulgence.

So I guess I’ll do the lame thing–though I haven’t done it in a while–and make this a Milbarge-style All Request Week. Any questions you’re DYING to have me answer? Post ‘em in the comments and I’ll tackle them this week.

I really thought the week from hell was over Friday. I was wrong; it appears to be continuing into this week. See:

On deck, socially and pseudo-socially:

• dinner with my brother tomorrow night
• reception Wednesday night
• lunch Thursday
• dinner Thursday
• event-thing Friday

Also on my plate, academically and pseudo-academically:

• things to grade
• classes (not my usual classes) to attend
• people to call
• things to cancel
• research to do
• writing to do
• reading to do

And a house to clean, because we have overnight guests this coming Sunday.

:::headdesk::::

At least I have my dog back.

Welcome to the slightly-late-but-still-on-Sunday! Law School Roundup, the “Things that Make You Go Hmmmm” edition.

• Sociopathic instant messaging (the littlest tortfeasor)
• Unnecessary building construction (Cella Bellum)
• Public personal hygiene (Negligent Use of a Dangerous Mind)
• Clever pick-up routines (Chicks Dig Law Students)
• Others’ grocery lists (Purr Se)
• Care package contents (WIll Work for Favorable Dicta)
• Multiple exclamation points (Legally Certifiable)
• Becoming a spendthrift (katlet)
• Questionable self-defense (The Namby Pamby)
• Droopy face (Phocas and Francis)
• Great shoes (Kitten’s Scratching Post)

And that’s it for this week! Look for next week’s Roundup at Evan Schaeffer’s Legal Underground, and in two weeks, it’s back here!

What a total buzzkill.

Since we have our rent car until tomorrow morning, I took it to the grocery to stock up on stuff I don’t want to carry home from the grocery. And I drove home and got a SWEET spot on the street, just a few doors down from our apartment.

And then discovered that the idiot bagger at the grocery had neglected to put TWO of my items in my bags–and they are two items that are ENTREE items. So I can’t make dinner two nights this week because my chicken and my beef are in someone else’s bag. I called and they’re happy to refund my money or give me a credit the next time I’m in, but it was too late to put similar items in a bag and have the delivery driver bring them by. So sometime this week, I have to walk BACK to the grocery, find two more entree items, and deal with the whole customer service nonsense.

Sigh. Not the end to the weekend I was looking forward to.

So I JUST realized the Roundup is on my plate today. Hehe. Since I’ll be spending approximately 5 hours in a car later today, don’t expect the Roundup any time SOON. But I swear, it’ll get done. Why? Because that’s how I roll–even if it’s late at night, I’ll be getting the Roundup done. On Sunday.

In other news, I went over 24 hours without checking my email and, amazingly, did not die.

One of the funniest things we do with Himself is blow in his face. I know, it sounds mean. But it’s actually quite cute, because Himself smells whatever-he-smells on our breath and tries to BITE THE AIR. He licks and bites at the air and then stops and rubs his eyes because they’re getting dried out. And then he licks us all over, because he loves us.

In other words, I am so sad that we have to board him this weekend while we make a road trip to see some family (who don’t know we’re coming and therefore can’t give us permission to bring him to their house). I know he will make new friends (well, I hope he will make new friends), and will be loved on by new people, but it doesn’t make me any happier. I will miss my little man this weekend.

Sing the theme songs to 80s sitcoms, on demand.

I totally rock.

The week from hell is almost over. I have two big things due for journal this week; I have that job search thing happening; Mr. Angst and I are preparing to go out of town for the weekend; and I have some grading to do on Monday for which I have been preparing by, you know, actually reading the assignment. Sigh. Week. From. Hell.

So, yeah, that’s why posting has been super light this week. And it will continue to be pretty much super light over the weekend. And then maybe, maybe, next week I will have time to post about new TV shows (haven’t watched Grey’s Anatomy, don’t spoil it for me), my classes, the weather, Project Runway, and perhaps some food that I might have time to cook. Might. We’ll see. Don’t want to be too ambitious or anything.

Himself is a funny guy. He is totally unfazed by the super-loud neighbors (I should say “was” since those guys are long moved out). He barely reacts to the train going by. He doesn’t seem to mind how loud our floors are (squeaky AND clicky-clacky from shoes).

But one thing he does freak out about: whenever I go into the lower cabinets to get my big saute pan out, he runs out of the kitchen. And then he stands about four feet out of the kitchen, watching me, while I pull out the pan (or lid or whatever). I don’t know if it’s the noise, but he doesn’t seem to react until the pans make noise, not when I just open the cabinet door.

So he’s a strange fellow, Himself is. Absolutely adorable. But a strange fellow.

I had a dream about shoes.

Basically, I had all these shoes that I don’t actually own–shiny green patent leather ankle boots, camel leather oxfords, something in a pretty matte red–and for some reason, my having these shoes was going to save the day. (I don’t remember the actual context of the dream.)

So how appropriate is it that the first email I saw this morning after getting up was from Banana Republic, with prominently featured shoes?

I may have to go buy some shoes.

I just want to say that, right now, that whole “second year, they work you to death” thing seems pretty spot on. There were times last year when I felt overwhelmed, but that wasn’t because I had too much work to do–it was because I didn’t know HOW to do the work. This year, though, I know how to do the work, and I have more of it than there are hours in the day to do.

I feel weak. I spent the entire day in front of my computer, working on a hellacious task. And when I was done with everything I could do from home, I took a look at how much I had left, thinking it would be only a small slice.

Nope. I have, easily, a third of this task left to do. And I’ve already invested a good 15 hours into it over the last week or so. I have potentially 5 or 6 more hours of work to do on this thing, and the very prospect of it is making me weak, nauseous, and angry.

If I live through this week, I promise never again to complain about my regular workload. Or at least not for a godo while. Like, a couple of weeks.

My life would be so much easier right now if every legal scholar in the world would learn what a pincite is–and then make sure all their citations that need them have them.

So, um, if you’re an author, please write down page numbers. And then put those page numbers in your citations. It’s sort of important.

Mr. Angst and I went out for a nice dinner last night, since we hadn’t celebrated my birthday–and it was our nanniversary, too. So we went to a moderately priced restaurant we like, that has good food, good wine, and good service.

And it was a disaster. Our waiter ignored us most of the night. It took me ten minutes to ASK FOR a second glass of wine. TEN MINUTES! Then the waiter picked up my empty glass, took it with him, stood at another table and explained the ENTIRE menu to them, before coming back by to clarify exactly what I wanted. By the time my wine came around, our food had already arrived, and I had only ordered it because I wanted wine with my food.

Also, Mr. Angst’s steak came out overcooked and when he pointed it out to the waiter, the waiter came back and said, “The kitchen says this was medium rare, so next time, try to order it ‘rare to medium rare’ to get what you want.” Mr. Angst replied, “That is EXACTLY how I DID order it.” The waiter says, “Oh, well, maybe I wrote it down wrong.” In other words, he ARGUED with Mr. Angst over whether or not his steak was made the way it was ordered. That is NOT COOL.

All the while, I was watching another table in our waiter’s section, where a couple had had their plates cleared, their leftovers boxed up, and were just sitting there, waiting for someone to bring by the dessert tray so they could say no, ask for their check, and leave. And I wondered what the hell was going on with our waiter. He was just plain awful.

So this morning I’m a little annoyed that we spent all that money on an evening that was not very enjoyable. Usually we have very good waistaff there–people who will chat with us, recommend wines or specials, or tell us about off-the-menu options. Last night was all the more disappointing in comparison to our previous experiences.

I’m sure we’ll go back sometime, but I don’t think it will be anytime soon. And that’s too bad, because I like their food.

Six years ago today, which was also a Friday, Mr. Angst and I had our first date. I wore a red shirt and tall black boots; he wore a gray shirt and shiny black shoes. We had Mexican martinis at a local restaurant, then stopped at the grocery store for beer and bread to take a mutual friend’s birthday dinner. At the end of the night, he took me back to my car and I kissed him on the cheek. I knew I wanted to talk to him again, and soon.

We’ve come a long way in six years–including geographically. And every year, around this time, I am so glad all the circumstances aligned just right that summer because I can’t imagine my life without him.

Wondering about God? Opinion Journal’s Best of the Web shares a plethora of conceptions of God. (Scroll down the page; it’s the last item. You may need to give them an email address.)

My personal favorite?

Common-law God. Since the beginning of time has assumed sole responsibility for Godlike acts, but has not legally been established as “God.”