people have very difficult, sad lives -- and not just old people, or ugly people, but real people. people like you and me, 22 year-olds whose stories make me want to cry, whose sobbing over the phone causes a lump to rise in my throat. it was a difficult day at work.
and it's tempting to be sad, but that's not the answer.
the answer is to be happy, to be grateful, and to spread the joy we have. the first step to that is to recognize how lucky we are, friends. we're so fortunate to feel safe inside our homes and neighborhoods, to have family members who love and support us, and to have one another.
today i'm grateful for:
-you, my friends, with whom i can share my joys and sorrows
-living in a city that, while filled with gun violence, is not generally hostile to unique people
-a family that allowed me to choose my own path in life and to travel and move wherever i desired
-my hair. i know that doesn't really fit with the theme of this journal entry, but it's been doing really good things lately.
"The daily practice of gratitude is one of the conduits by which your wealth will come to you."
Monday, January 28, 2008
the clinical diaries, day 5
Thursday, January 24, 2008
a not-so-funny thing happened on the way to class
i just witnessed a girl getting stabbed on the subway.
well, not actually "stabbed," like, in her body. just her dunkin donuts cup.
i was sitting a few rows away, quietly last-minute cramming/reading for class (i should be doing that now, but... this is more important, i feel) when suddenly a girl screams. coffee flies everywhere. with cream. sugar... maybe. the victim wasn't totally thin. cute, though.
everyone screams, runs to the next car. i get swept up in the mass of fleeing passengers, trying not to cry, my life and wardrobe flashing before my eyes...
the perp (as we call it in the law enforcement world) just sat there. head down. knife in his right hand. holding an open book in his left hand. the Bible, it was later confirmed.
and the crazy thing about it was, the girl totally did not deserve to be assaulted. i mean, she was very, very cute, with long curly hair covered by a cute little winter hat, and wearing a nice coat. i felt so bad as she stood among the mass of people (now in the adjacent train car) crying. i wanted to pull out her compact and powder over her tears.
needless to say, the train stopped. the perp just sat there, doing his daily devotional, and finally the septa police showed up to save the day, cuff the bad guy, and rescue us all from the insanity that is living in philadelphia -- if only for the day. who knows what will happen on the subway tomorrow.
and not to make it about me, but if i were that girl, i would have been so upset about my coffee. mostly because i'm exhausted. and i really need my coffee this week. not to make it about me... or anything.
well, not actually "stabbed," like, in her body. just her dunkin donuts cup.
i was sitting a few rows away, quietly last-minute cramming/reading for class (i should be doing that now, but... this is more important, i feel) when suddenly a girl screams. coffee flies everywhere. with cream. sugar... maybe. the victim wasn't totally thin. cute, though.
everyone screams, runs to the next car. i get swept up in the mass of fleeing passengers, trying not to cry, my life and wardrobe flashing before my eyes...
the perp (as we call it in the law enforcement world) just sat there. head down. knife in his right hand. holding an open book in his left hand. the Bible, it was later confirmed.
and the crazy thing about it was, the girl totally did not deserve to be assaulted. i mean, she was very, very cute, with long curly hair covered by a cute little winter hat, and wearing a nice coat. i felt so bad as she stood among the mass of people (now in the adjacent train car) crying. i wanted to pull out her compact and powder over her tears.
needless to say, the train stopped. the perp just sat there, doing his daily devotional, and finally the septa police showed up to save the day, cuff the bad guy, and rescue us all from the insanity that is living in philadelphia -- if only for the day. who knows what will happen on the subway tomorrow.
and not to make it about me, but if i were that girl, i would have been so upset about my coffee. mostly because i'm exhausted. and i really need my coffee this week. not to make it about me... or anything.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
his heart grew two sizes that day.
sitting in starbucks.
staring out the window.
suddenly smiling as i watch a lovely little family walking down the street.
two well-dressed dads, one on each end. both caucasian and graying. and in the middle, a small asian boy and a small black boy. all holding hands. all smiling against the cold wind.
i wonder what they were all up to today... maybe a show at the merriam. maybe out to get pizza for lunch.
i wonder how old i have to be to adopt...
maybe i'll just find a way to impregnate carey without any physical contact.
hmmm...
staring out the window.
suddenly smiling as i watch a lovely little family walking down the street.
two well-dressed dads, one on each end. both caucasian and graying. and in the middle, a small asian boy and a small black boy. all holding hands. all smiling against the cold wind.
i wonder what they were all up to today... maybe a show at the merriam. maybe out to get pizza for lunch.
i wonder how old i have to be to adopt...
maybe i'll just find a way to impregnate carey without any physical contact.
hmmm...
Thursday, January 17, 2008
and i know that it's not a party...
if it happens every night
* * *
burn it down till the embers smoke on the ground
and start new when your heart is an empty room, with walls of the deepest blue
spring blooms and you find the love that's true, but you don't know what now to do, 'cause the chase is all you know, and she stopped running months ago
and all you see is where else you could be when you're at home
out on the street are so many possibilities to not be alone
the flames and smoke climbed out of every window and disappeared with everything that you held dear
and you shed not a single tear for the things that you didn't need
'cause you knew you were finally free
* * *
burn it down till the embers smoke on the ground
and start new when your heart is an empty room, with walls of the deepest blue
spring blooms and you find the love that's true, but you don't know what now to do, 'cause the chase is all you know, and she stopped running months ago
and all you see is where else you could be when you're at home
out on the street are so many possibilities to not be alone
the flames and smoke climbed out of every window and disappeared with everything that you held dear
and you shed not a single tear for the things that you didn't need
'cause you knew you were finally free
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
*POOF!* you’re poor but happy.
today was my first day working at my clinical -- a type of public interest internship, for those of you nonlegisparlantes. i will be working 10 hours a week at a center for gay and lesbian civil rights. i'm excited about it; i think it will be a fantastic experience. i guess i think it wil be beneficial in that "this will be good for you" sort of way. "this is going to really open your eyes."
it already has, but not in the way you might imagine. not yet, at least.
today i was introduced to a new type of lawyer. over the past few years, i've met a LOT of lawyers. a lllotttt. impatient, stressed out, hurriedly friendly, overpaid, often well-dressed lawyers. that's not the kind of lawyer that i'll be working with through my clinical.
the men and women i spent my day with were not the best-dressed professionals you might meet. in fact, they were all in jeans. not even expensive jeans! just...jeans. the office isn't nice. they're remodeling, but i doubt the final product will be very posh. the carpet is NOT pretty. no one there gets paid much, as you might imagine at an organization funded by donations from the public and government grants. our government isn't extremely generous with the lgbt community.
and these people deal with real problems -- life and death, losing my home, harrassed at work, victim of domestic violence, losing custody of my children kind of problems. real problems. real stress.
and i have to say i've never met a happier group of people. they are fun -- and funny! they make real jokes and don't worry about offending anyone. they talk about their lesbian lovers and adopted children as if they've known you for years, but really it's been a few hours. they were all very welcoming, and very normal. most of all, though, like i said: they were happy.
i'm not sure how this will affect my goal of becoming luxuriously wealthy and outfitting myself in only the finest threads and real estate investments.
i just don't know what to do with this epiphany.
don't tell anyone. i don't want to appear vulnerable.
it already has, but not in the way you might imagine. not yet, at least.
today i was introduced to a new type of lawyer. over the past few years, i've met a LOT of lawyers. a lllotttt. impatient, stressed out, hurriedly friendly, overpaid, often well-dressed lawyers. that's not the kind of lawyer that i'll be working with through my clinical.
the men and women i spent my day with were not the best-dressed professionals you might meet. in fact, they were all in jeans. not even expensive jeans! just...jeans. the office isn't nice. they're remodeling, but i doubt the final product will be very posh. the carpet is NOT pretty. no one there gets paid much, as you might imagine at an organization funded by donations from the public and government grants. our government isn't extremely generous with the lgbt community.
and these people deal with real problems -- life and death, losing my home, harrassed at work, victim of domestic violence, losing custody of my children kind of problems. real problems. real stress.
and i have to say i've never met a happier group of people. they are fun -- and funny! they make real jokes and don't worry about offending anyone. they talk about their lesbian lovers and adopted children as if they've known you for years, but really it's been a few hours. they were all very welcoming, and very normal. most of all, though, like i said: they were happy.
i'm not sure how this will affect my goal of becoming luxuriously wealthy and outfitting myself in only the finest threads and real estate investments.
i just don't know what to do with this epiphany.
don't tell anyone. i don't want to appear vulnerable.
Friday, January 11, 2008
please apply within
a full-time position has opened up at our organization, and applications are being accepted.
qualifications:
the ideal candidate is, above all, socially awkward: hates saying hello to people around the office, refuses to chat about anything except complaints about the work, dislikes attending social events when there is other work to be done, would rather use extra time to double-check research and re-dot all i's and re-cross all t's. the ideal candidate is "book smart" while being generally clueless about the important things in life, such as friendship and weekends and sleep. the ideal candidate will hate his or her personal life so much that all weekends and holidays will be spent in the office doing work.
requirements:
to be considered, one must meet an academic performance threshold , and he or she must be able to both write sentences and understand how to robotically conform citations to a step-by-step manual which describes how to create citations. no other requirements will be expected of you.
work environment:
all work will take place in a poorly-ventilated and extremely warm allergen hot-bed in the far corners of the law building. while work could be done from any location using the unstable medium called "the world-wide web," such behavior is explicitly prohibited, as everything on the internet is new and, ipso facto, should be distrusted.
opportunity for advancement:
if, after one year of what most mentally healthy individuals would consider to be frustrating, thankless hell, you are interested, for some reason beyond sane comprehension, in continuing with this organization, you may apply for an even more torturous position overseeing new recruits. that anyone would desire one of these positions (and the prolonged suffering attendant thereto) is baffling.
how to apply:
the application process has been thoughtfully designed to be as painful as possible. it is purposefully scheduled to occur at the end of what will likely be the worst two or three weeks of applicants' entire year. the application process lasts for ten (10) long days and nights, culminating in a written work product based upon which applicants will be judged, scrutinized, and potentially mocked.
please apply within. if you have any questions or comments, please contact us at the law review. we look forward to ruining your second (and potentially your third) year of law school. buh-bye now.
qualifications:
the ideal candidate is, above all, socially awkward: hates saying hello to people around the office, refuses to chat about anything except complaints about the work, dislikes attending social events when there is other work to be done, would rather use extra time to double-check research and re-dot all i's and re-cross all t's. the ideal candidate is "book smart" while being generally clueless about the important things in life, such as friendship and weekends and sleep. the ideal candidate will hate his or her personal life so much that all weekends and holidays will be spent in the office doing work.
requirements:
to be considered, one must meet an academic performance threshold , and he or she must be able to both write sentences and understand how to robotically conform citations to a step-by-step manual which describes how to create citations. no other requirements will be expected of you.
work environment:
all work will take place in a poorly-ventilated and extremely warm allergen hot-bed in the far corners of the law building. while work could be done from any location using the unstable medium called "the world-wide web," such behavior is explicitly prohibited, as everything on the internet is new and, ipso facto, should be distrusted.
opportunity for advancement:
if, after one year of what most mentally healthy individuals would consider to be frustrating, thankless hell, you are interested, for some reason beyond sane comprehension, in continuing with this organization, you may apply for an even more torturous position overseeing new recruits. that anyone would desire one of these positions (and the prolonged suffering attendant thereto) is baffling.
how to apply:
the application process has been thoughtfully designed to be as painful as possible. it is purposefully scheduled to occur at the end of what will likely be the worst two or three weeks of applicants' entire year. the application process lasts for ten (10) long days and nights, culminating in a written work product based upon which applicants will be judged, scrutinized, and potentially mocked.
please apply within. if you have any questions or comments, please contact us at the law review. we look forward to ruining your second (and potentially your third) year of law school. buh-bye now.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
i'm mister bad gym karma
another day, another drama
when i'm in the weight room and i sense that a potential bencher needs a spot, i will go to great lengths to avoid helping, such as:
a) generally refusing to make eye contact with anyone working on or near a bench
b) if i see someone potentially approaching me to ask for a spot, by walking away (to the water fountain or otherwise) while looking down at my iPod
or
c) if, to my chagrin, i have failed to dodge a spotter's request for aid, and i spot someone - which occasionally happens, such as when i am distracted and someone asks me before i can run away - then after the first set, i disappear. i will even cut short my own workout just to avoid being asked to spot another set.
this occurred last night. before i could escape his eye contact, some skinny indian (like, from india... because that confuses some people. i'm not naming names, but a few weeks ago, a friend asked me, "what else would you call indians like the navajo?" and i replied, "they're native americans." i'm not naming names, because i don't want to embarrass anyone.) was up in my face asking if i could spot him. i sighed heavily, followed him to his breath, and had to stand over his bad breath for almost a whole minute while he heaved up what looked to be about 20 pounds. then i ran away and never came back. considering that there weren't many people in the gym, that indian boy with no one to spot him may have had to cut his workout short as well. i genuinely do not care.
i realize this is poor gym etiquette.
even worse, it is poor karmic behavior. and, ladies and gentlemen, i do believe in karma.
that is why i refuse to do any exercise for which i could potentially need a spotter. so no one can ever treat me the way i treated the little indian boy and anyone else who has EVER asked me for help in the gym.
HA! take THAT, karma!
when i'm in the weight room and i sense that a potential bencher needs a spot, i will go to great lengths to avoid helping, such as:
a) generally refusing to make eye contact with anyone working on or near a bench
b) if i see someone potentially approaching me to ask for a spot, by walking away (to the water fountain or otherwise) while looking down at my iPod
or
c) if, to my chagrin, i have failed to dodge a spotter's request for aid, and i spot someone - which occasionally happens, such as when i am distracted and someone asks me before i can run away - then after the first set, i disappear. i will even cut short my own workout just to avoid being asked to spot another set.
this occurred last night. before i could escape his eye contact, some skinny indian (like, from india... because that confuses some people. i'm not naming names, but a few weeks ago, a friend asked me, "what else would you call indians like the navajo?" and i replied, "they're native americans." i'm not naming names, because i don't want to embarrass anyone.) was up in my face asking if i could spot him. i sighed heavily, followed him to his breath, and had to stand over his bad breath for almost a whole minute while he heaved up what looked to be about 20 pounds. then i ran away and never came back. considering that there weren't many people in the gym, that indian boy with no one to spot him may have had to cut his workout short as well. i genuinely do not care.
i realize this is poor gym etiquette.
even worse, it is poor karmic behavior. and, ladies and gentlemen, i do believe in karma.
that is why i refuse to do any exercise for which i could potentially need a spotter. so no one can ever treat me the way i treated the little indian boy and anyone else who has EVER asked me for help in the gym.
HA! take THAT, karma!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
