We have birds living in our chimney so the apartment is filled with chirping right now as they all crowd in to escape the rain. It's somewhat amusing.
I am having trouble summoning the will to write a statement of interest for a clerkship recommendation. How should one reconcile the partial contradiction of applying to circuit and district judges without making direct reference to the looming specter of grades? What is the best way to explain that I want to work for a judge because I want to be a judge and thus need to know what they do, especially without sounding silly or self important? Ugh.
Tiffany and I went out for deeply mediocre Middle Eastern food for lunch. I must stop eating out. Cooking, however, would require going grocery shopping, and that's even more taxing than typing a page or so of nonsense. Oh well.
Monday, May 31, 2004
Public service announcement: my email has been giving me strange error messages through my antivirus program over the last couple of weeks and apparently some of the messages that Outlook claims were successfully sent did not actually go through. If you have emailed me about anything since exams and have not heard back, please send me another note and let me know; I probably wrote you back and my internet connection ate it.
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Shopping blogging, ignore if you please:
This weekend my roommate and I took our lives into our own hands and went shopping again, this time with the goal of using some gift cards we received as a promotion from Hecht's during our last trip. Perhaps I misremember, but it seems that in previous times the experience of going shopping at a large department store held more charm. For example, it's been years since I received helpful, much less cheerful, service from the shoe salespeople in a department store. Instead of asking if you need help and bringing out alternative sizes and styles in the event that your desired shoe is unavailable, the personnel in every recent instance have required a flag-down to summon, even if one has been waiting patiently with your selections and tried to make polite eye contact, and has informed me in a surly tone that they simply do not have the requested size without further suggestions. (It's things like this that make me doubt the economy has not recovered, but then I am cynical.) Is there any reason for the apparent slump in quality of mid-range department store service and selection? Is it competition from discount department stores like Kmart and Target? I'm baffled and have sworn off going back to any May's department store for the near future.
Fortunately, however, we happened upon the Press Building Shops and their Easy Spirit store, which not only brought out several sizes and widths but also checked with another store and ordered the much needed feminine white sandals and permitted me to evade the hated UPS by shipping them to the Metro Center store to pick up on my lunch break. Kudos to the helpful employee there and fie on the entire staff of Hecht's at Metro Center, with the exception of the cashier in the handbag department.
Speaking of handbags, another great store is Fornash Designs in Georgetown. The store permits you to select the shape, size, handles and accents, and inner and outer fabrics and then sews you a custom designed handbag. Mine will have poppies on the outside and leopard print with monkeys on the inside. Every time I'll open my purse to pay for something, that should make me smile. Hurrah for shopping!
This weekend my roommate and I took our lives into our own hands and went shopping again, this time with the goal of using some gift cards we received as a promotion from Hecht's during our last trip. Perhaps I misremember, but it seems that in previous times the experience of going shopping at a large department store held more charm. For example, it's been years since I received helpful, much less cheerful, service from the shoe salespeople in a department store. Instead of asking if you need help and bringing out alternative sizes and styles in the event that your desired shoe is unavailable, the personnel in every recent instance have required a flag-down to summon, even if one has been waiting patiently with your selections and tried to make polite eye contact, and has informed me in a surly tone that they simply do not have the requested size without further suggestions. (It's things like this that make me doubt the economy has not recovered, but then I am cynical.) Is there any reason for the apparent slump in quality of mid-range department store service and selection? Is it competition from discount department stores like Kmart and Target? I'm baffled and have sworn off going back to any May's department store for the near future.
Fortunately, however, we happened upon the Press Building Shops and their Easy Spirit store, which not only brought out several sizes and widths but also checked with another store and ordered the much needed feminine white sandals and permitted me to evade the hated UPS by shipping them to the Metro Center store to pick up on my lunch break. Kudos to the helpful employee there and fie on the entire staff of Hecht's at Metro Center, with the exception of the cashier in the handbag department.
Speaking of handbags, another great store is Fornash Designs in Georgetown. The store permits you to select the shape, size, handles and accents, and inner and outer fabrics and then sews you a custom designed handbag. Mine will have poppies on the outside and leopard print with monkeys on the inside. Every time I'll open my purse to pay for something, that should make me smile. Hurrah for shopping!
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Friday, May 28, 2004
Normally Wonkette bores me, but I am always happy to see someone tear a strip off Michelle Malkin, the Filipina Ann Coulter.
I am reminded of an exchange between Jay Mohr and Christopher Walken on the set of Suicide Kings regarding the benefits of having a tail.
"Jay, I noticed your dog - eh, your dog was in here a moment ago - that dog had no tail. What happened?"
"You know, they cut it off when they're puppies. It's called docking the tail."
"That's too bad, you know. Think about it; it would be so great to have a tail. People could tell when you were angry. They'd go, 'Get back! Look out! Don't fuck with Chris today; look at his tail.'"
"I think you mean happy, Chris. Dogs wag their tails when they're happy."
"Oh well, maybe you. But if I had a tail, you have to be expressive with that tail, otherwise, what's the point, right. They'd know, they'd know. They'd go, 'Get back, don't bother Chris today. He's having a bad day.' 'How do you know?' "Well, did you look at his tail?'"
(Hours later, it comes up again. Mohr asks Walken a question.)
"What would you rather do: have a tail or the gift of flight?"
Walken responds immediately. "Oh, have a tail! Come on, that's the dumbest thing I ever heard. You can always get on an airplane, but a tail . . ."
"Jay, I noticed your dog - eh, your dog was in here a moment ago - that dog had no tail. What happened?"
"You know, they cut it off when they're puppies. It's called docking the tail."
"That's too bad, you know. Think about it; it would be so great to have a tail. People could tell when you were angry. They'd go, 'Get back! Look out! Don't fuck with Chris today; look at his tail.'"
"I think you mean happy, Chris. Dogs wag their tails when they're happy."
"Oh well, maybe you. But if I had a tail, you have to be expressive with that tail, otherwise, what's the point, right. They'd know, they'd know. They'd go, 'Get back, don't bother Chris today. He's having a bad day.' 'How do you know?' "Well, did you look at his tail?'"
(Hours later, it comes up again. Mohr asks Walken a question.)
"What would you rather do: have a tail or the gift of flight?"
Walken responds immediately. "Oh, have a tail! Come on, that's the dumbest thing I ever heard. You can always get on an airplane, but a tail . . ."
Okay, so now I have worked at a law firm for one week. I like it, and it is not as intense as I thought it would be, but this may be because I am not working hard enough. In fact, that is almost certainly the case. My officemate informed me that we are supposed to "shoot for" 7.5 hours of billable and non-billable time. Now the latter category only includes things like official training sessions and adding up your time for the week (yes, they have a special non-billable number just for the time you use to tot up your time!), not staring at the wall, eating lunch, or checking email, so I am in a world of hurt and did not even realize it.
It's a horrible experience to be confronted with how amazingly unproductive you are for most of the day. I can't keep to one task for more than a couple of minutes unless I am totally engrossed by the subject matter. Since that's not always the case with things I don't choose to read myself, I stop a lot in mid page to check email or tidy my desk just to keep my brain alert. If I am not multi-tasking, I drift, but that's not conducive to billing. I am used to being able to do the assigned work in less time than I'm alloted and then being able to relax for the rest of the time. That is not the way this job works. There is always more to do, or more to ask for. And what *did* I do for the three hours or so today that weren't billed? Eat lunch? Surf the web? Walk around the building looking for the associate's office where I was suppose to pick up my new assignment? Should I bill for that? Is it "travel?" (I know it's not.)
This leads to the ugly realization that I only do a few hours of work each day and that the firm is going to think this is bad. I've never had an office job before where they actually expected you to do 7.5 hours of work every day. All my previous employment seemed to acknowledge that a significant portion of time is spent doing things like checking email, printing documents and going to get them, waiting for phone calls, and the like. Of course, maybe the real message is that firms think this also and that's why the typical day is more like twelve hours than eight - to allow for the staring into space and daydreaming and still squeeze a full day's work out of you.
Jeremy's humorous musings aside, this billing thing is no fun.
It's a horrible experience to be confronted with how amazingly unproductive you are for most of the day. I can't keep to one task for more than a couple of minutes unless I am totally engrossed by the subject matter. Since that's not always the case with things I don't choose to read myself, I stop a lot in mid page to check email or tidy my desk just to keep my brain alert. If I am not multi-tasking, I drift, but that's not conducive to billing. I am used to being able to do the assigned work in less time than I'm alloted and then being able to relax for the rest of the time. That is not the way this job works. There is always more to do, or more to ask for. And what *did* I do for the three hours or so today that weren't billed? Eat lunch? Surf the web? Walk around the building looking for the associate's office where I was suppose to pick up my new assignment? Should I bill for that? Is it "travel?" (I know it's not.)
This leads to the ugly realization that I only do a few hours of work each day and that the firm is going to think this is bad. I've never had an office job before where they actually expected you to do 7.5 hours of work every day. All my previous employment seemed to acknowledge that a significant portion of time is spent doing things like checking email, printing documents and going to get them, waiting for phone calls, and the like. Of course, maybe the real message is that firms think this also and that's why the typical day is more like twelve hours than eight - to allow for the staring into space and daydreaming and still squeeze a full day's work out of you.
Jeremy's humorous musings aside, this billing thing is no fun.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
To add to my list of reunions in DC, my former Rose coworker Lovely Sarah just called me. It looks like we're going to an Aimee Mann concert later this summer. Whee! She's been working as a paralegal and now hates all lawyers. I can't imagine the absolute drudgery of being a paralegal. As I understand it, you get the scut work and horribly long hours of a first year associate, but with a tiny fraction of the paycheck and potential abuse from angry attorneys. (Then again, associates aren't safe from that either; one of my classmates worked at an L.A. firm and saw a partner chuck a stapler at an associate's head in the middle of a tirade. The associate just stood there. If someone threw a stapler at my head there would be a fight, but then I am not trying to keep my head down and pay off student loans of an amount sufficient to buy a large house in Red America.)
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
I just finished the first (and certainly not the last) lunch at my desk. The firm dining room has a pretty wide variety of food for extremely reasonable prices. Last summer in New York I brought my lunch quite frequently because there was almost nowhere except fast food places that could provide a meal for less than five dollars. Today's lunch: $3.18 (drink provided from training session earlier in the day). Every penny I save is one more left over to spend on decadent pampering and end of summer travel.
While I did not lose my shoe today, I did forget that the beach sandals I cunningly decided to wear on the way to work rub my toes, so my feet are even more sore than they would have been if I'd just worn heels. Bah.
While I did not lose my shoe today, I did forget that the beach sandals I cunningly decided to wear on the way to work rub my toes, so my feet are even more sore than they would have been if I'd just worn heels. Bah.
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
I am getting a good sense of the office layout and have only become lost twice today. It helps that the building is a trapezoid and thus enables one to orient more easily than a square or rectangular shape. The artwork in the hallways helps, too; it's all extremely weird and thus makes for memorable landmarks. I know I'm close to my office when I see the giant "Silence is Golden/Talk or Die" poster. The conference room where we did most of yesterday's training is helpfully pointed out by a life-sized charcoal sketch of a man contorted in a back spasm.
I just got a giant stack of papers that must be read tonight. Take them home or stay late? It's only the second day and already these decisions present themselves.
I just got a giant stack of papers that must be read tonight. Take them home or stay late? It's only the second day and already these decisions present themselves.
Monday, May 24, 2004
After carefully perusing the firm's policy on computer usage, it appears that I can blog from work as long as I do not disparage or defame the firm, its staff, or its clients. I am also prohibited from posting illicit sexual content, but the closest I think I've come to that was the Graves poem about nakedness, so the blog is safe on that score as well.
I really like my firm. They do have a not-very-well concealed plan to make me into a tax attorney (evidently I was one of two summer associates to not put tax last on my interest list, so they have put me in office block with the tax attorneys, given me a tax associate as a senior mentor, and have me sharing an office with the only other non-tax-averse summer), but I can overlook this. I went to my first firm lunch today with my senior and junior associate mentors. I asked the junior associate how she knew the firm was right for her. She said that at the other firm where she'd worked, they had social events practically every night which you were expected to attend and all the attorneys were friends with each other. At this firm, people have a life and friends outside of work and aren't expected to go to frou-frou parties and bar nights all the time; she liked that. So do I. Yay for relatively antisocial professionalism! We do get a Supreme Court tour from one of the justices, horseback riding and a winery tour, and some kind of Monte Carlo night gambling party, so they are not all business all the time, though.
The only downsides: they have put me on an international arbitration project, which I know nothing about, and my officemate can see everything I do on my computer monitor. That will keep me in strict compliance with the firm computing policy (or at least discourage solitaire). I think he is peeved to not have the entire office to himself anymore. Oh well. Life's tough all over.
I really like my firm. They do have a not-very-well concealed plan to make me into a tax attorney (evidently I was one of two summer associates to not put tax last on my interest list, so they have put me in office block with the tax attorneys, given me a tax associate as a senior mentor, and have me sharing an office with the only other non-tax-averse summer), but I can overlook this. I went to my first firm lunch today with my senior and junior associate mentors. I asked the junior associate how she knew the firm was right for her. She said that at the other firm where she'd worked, they had social events practically every night which you were expected to attend and all the attorneys were friends with each other. At this firm, people have a life and friends outside of work and aren't expected to go to frou-frou parties and bar nights all the time; she liked that. So do I. Yay for relatively antisocial professionalism! We do get a Supreme Court tour from one of the justices, horseback riding and a winery tour, and some kind of Monte Carlo night gambling party, so they are not all business all the time, though.
The only downsides: they have put me on an international arbitration project, which I know nothing about, and my officemate can see everything I do on my computer monitor. That will keep me in strict compliance with the firm computing policy (or at least discourage solitaire). I think he is peeved to not have the entire office to himself anymore. Oh well. Life's tough all over.
Sunday, May 23, 2004
Tomorrow is the first day of my summer job. After selecting an appropriate outfit, assembling the necessary paperwork to prove I am legally able to work, and ransacking the apartment and my email for the letter telling me the initial place and time to assemble, all is ready.
I was pretty confident that this firm will be a particularly good place for me to work - as I have mentioned, my interviewing strategy involved minimal concealment of my actual manner, so it might be argued that any firm that didn't give me an offer was a bad fit in some way, personality-wise. But then I read things like this and realize it's all a crapshoot; for all I know, I blew it with a firm that might have perfectly complemented my career ambitions because I crossed my legs temporarily at the knee instead of the ankle or pulled a silly face while thinking about a question. Bah.
(I do not consider someone thoughtlessly leaning on his hand a datum from which one can reasonably extrapolate carelessness or poor social skills. I'm sure if the interviewer in question were as closely observed as her subject during the same period, she would have made some awkward gesture or poor choice of words at some point. Maybe the person really was twitchy and strange in a way not conveyed here. As it stands, this is prime paranoia fodder.)
I was pretty confident that this firm will be a particularly good place for me to work - as I have mentioned, my interviewing strategy involved minimal concealment of my actual manner, so it might be argued that any firm that didn't give me an offer was a bad fit in some way, personality-wise. But then I read things like this and realize it's all a crapshoot; for all I know, I blew it with a firm that might have perfectly complemented my career ambitions because I crossed my legs temporarily at the knee instead of the ankle or pulled a silly face while thinking about a question. Bah.
(I do not consider someone thoughtlessly leaning on his hand a datum from which one can reasonably extrapolate carelessness or poor social skills. I'm sure if the interviewer in question were as closely observed as her subject during the same period, she would have made some awkward gesture or poor choice of words at some point. Maybe the person really was twitchy and strange in a way not conveyed here. As it stands, this is prime paranoia fodder.)
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Starting to get antsy about the new job. Today was a shopping odyssey with my roommate and another HLSer from her firm to buy work clothes. They got to buy suits while I was diverted to sassy skirts and dresses. Hmph. However, there was also good news today; both boxes of stuff that I mailed to myself arrived, if in extremely battered condition. Now I have cookbooks and board games. We just need a third for Settlers of Catan (Tiffany and I are cutthroats).
Random cool thing about my apartment: the loft bed is located under the peaked roof in an alcove. In a thunderstorm like we had last night, the cupola becomes a cone of sound, booming and rattling. It's excellent.
Random cool thing about my apartment: the loft bed is located under the peaked roof in an alcove. In a thunderstorm like we had last night, the cupola becomes a cone of sound, booming and rattling. It's excellent.
Bars: why do I hate them? Is it because I don't drink much? Because paying ten bucks for a drink galls when you know the bottle only costs twenty? Because bars are full of loud, drunken, obnoxious people blowing smoke in your face and bumping into you every ten seconds? Maybe it's because it is impossible to carry on a conversation in one without yelling at the other person because at some point in the evening some inebriated fellow decided that using his inside voice was unnecessary, starting a vocal arms race that ends in mutual eardrum destruction.
All I ask for in an evening spot:
- You should be able to hear the person you are with if she is speaking in a normal tone of voice.
- There should be a place to sit down; this may be in a quieter part of the establishment. It should not be covered with unidentifiable liquids or piled with handbags.
- The degree of crowding should not be such that you are constantly being body-checked if you are standing.
- Mixed drinks should not cost ten dollars. There should be a professional and knowledgeable bartender on staff who will not look at you like you have two heads if you order an obscure but delicious drink. Absent these things, have some cider.
- Smokiness in the main space should be minimized, although a separate cigar area is encouraged.
- The other patrons should be a mix of professionals and young people.
- Music, if any, should not be too loud, and must never be by request (drunks have no judgment).
- Easy access to taxis or transit for the trip home.
Is this so much to ask?
All I ask for in an evening spot:
- You should be able to hear the person you are with if she is speaking in a normal tone of voice.
- There should be a place to sit down; this may be in a quieter part of the establishment. It should not be covered with unidentifiable liquids or piled with handbags.
- The degree of crowding should not be such that you are constantly being body-checked if you are standing.
- Mixed drinks should not cost ten dollars. There should be a professional and knowledgeable bartender on staff who will not look at you like you have two heads if you order an obscure but delicious drink. Absent these things, have some cider.
- Smokiness in the main space should be minimized, although a separate cigar area is encouraged.
- The other patrons should be a mix of professionals and young people.
- Music, if any, should not be too loud, and must never be by request (drunks have no judgment).
- Easy access to taxis or transit for the trip home.
Is this so much to ask?
Friday, May 21, 2004
Weird DC bar encounter 1: my roommate's friend introduces me to a drunk guy who looks very familiar. We shout at each other and figure out that we worked at the same office in New York last summer. He asks me where I am working.
Me: "I start at [my firm] on Monday."
Him: "That's a Jewish firm."
Me: (relevance, counselor?) "Really? Er, I'm not Jewish."
Him: "Oh, all the lawyers who work there are Jewish. But it's good to know who you're working for - you've gotta work for somebody, and there are worse people to work for." (in sort of chummy co-conspirator tone)
Me: "hmm, ah, sure." (backs away slowly)
Weird DC bar encounter 2: I see a young woman as we are leaving the bar. Now normally I just ignore people who look sort-of-but-not-really like people I know, because chances are it's a coincidence. However, this time I shout the name of a girl I knew in high school (so much shouting! I hate loud bars). She turns. It is Lori, who once helped me make a flying pig out of papier mache. We trade numbers. She, too, is drunk. I am in full sober-girl anthropologist mode and can appreciate how weird this all is. It's time to go home. I stop at a bookstore full of hipsters and buy a book to curl up with in the loft.
Me: "I start at [my firm] on Monday."
Him: "That's a Jewish firm."
Me: (relevance, counselor?) "Really? Er, I'm not Jewish."
Him: "Oh, all the lawyers who work there are Jewish. But it's good to know who you're working for - you've gotta work for somebody, and there are worse people to work for." (in sort of chummy co-conspirator tone)
Me: "hmm, ah, sure." (backs away slowly)
Weird DC bar encounter 2: I see a young woman as we are leaving the bar. Now normally I just ignore people who look sort-of-but-not-really like people I know, because chances are it's a coincidence. However, this time I shout the name of a girl I knew in high school (so much shouting! I hate loud bars). She turns. It is Lori, who once helped me make a flying pig out of papier mache. We trade numbers. She, too, is drunk. I am in full sober-girl anthropologist mode and can appreciate how weird this all is. It's time to go home. I stop at a bookstore full of hipsters and buy a book to curl up with in the loft.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Things our apartment has:
A piano
A stereo
Two fireplaces
Spices galore
A large Modigliani print, which is staring at me right now (its presence makes me indescribably happy)
A living room and a sitting room
A rockin' loft (where I sleep!)
Air conditioning (aah)
A whirlpool bath
An eclectic assortment of art all over the walls
Things our apartment mysteriously lacks:
Towel racks
A medicine cabinet
More than one set of sheets for the small bed in the loft
A television (we shipped one from Boston, but my laptop screen is bigger)
More than one phone jack
High speed internet (sob!)
Closets in the bedroom or loft
Food (partially rectified now)
Books that are not about dance
It's a strange place. I meant to go out exploring the neighborhood today, but it was overcast and gloomy, so I ended up staying in and finalizing my clerkship application list. Work starts on Monday, at which point I may blog about law again - that is unless they won't let me blog from work. If blogging is at night only, I'll probably forget half the funny things by the time quitting time rolls around.
A piano
A stereo
Two fireplaces
Spices galore
A large Modigliani print, which is staring at me right now (its presence makes me indescribably happy)
A living room and a sitting room
A rockin' loft (where I sleep!)
Air conditioning (aah)
A whirlpool bath
An eclectic assortment of art all over the walls
Things our apartment mysteriously lacks:
Towel racks
A medicine cabinet
More than one set of sheets for the small bed in the loft
A television (we shipped one from Boston, but my laptop screen is bigger)
More than one phone jack
High speed internet (sob!)
Closets in the bedroom or loft
Food (partially rectified now)
Books that are not about dance
It's a strange place. I meant to go out exploring the neighborhood today, but it was overcast and gloomy, so I ended up staying in and finalizing my clerkship application list. Work starts on Monday, at which point I may blog about law again - that is unless they won't let me blog from work. If blogging is at night only, I'll probably forget half the funny things by the time quitting time rolls around.
Maria at Crooked Timber is rereading George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series in preparation for the release of Book 4, A Feast for Crows. Like everyone who reads these books in isolation, she is formulating theories about where Martin is going. The central source for all your ASOIAF needs, however, is here.
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