I am Sooooo Entertaining!

Tonight was the annual BLSA 3L banquet.  It's the last official BLSA event of the year, when the organization says good by to it's graduating 3Ls.  It was my third one.  I had been waiting for this particular banquet for quite a long time, especially for the slide show and the superlatives.  "Finally, I'll get to be in the pictures on that big screen!  Me and my friends, being silly and studious and pretty..."  There was no slide show. :(  Darn 2Ls (they plan the thing) dropped the ball.

There were however superlative awards.  The superlatives are these silly awards for things like 'Next Johnnie Cochran,' 'Best Dressed,' or 'Most Likely to Commit Malpractice.'  (Mr. Trizzle won two of those last year; I'll let you guess what two.)  All the 3Ls vote on their classmates. 

I was excited about seeing which of my friends would get what awards, but was pretty certain I wouldn't get any myself.  Some of the awards might have kinda fit me, but not better than they fit my classmates.  So, I was prepared to sit back and watch My Rhyming Twin get the award for 'Most Likely to Brighten Someone's Day,' and my newly married friends get 'Most Likely to Have Children First', etc.  Well, I was wrong. 

I did get an award.  And not just any award.  One of the most ridiculous awards (probably just behind 'Most Likely to Buy a Luxury Vehicle w/ 1st PayCheck' and the malpractice award - both of which went to the same person this year).  For some confounded reason, my classmates voted me "interesting enough to watch during prime time."  Yes, I got the 'Most Likely to be a Reality TV Star' award.  What?!

All I have to say to my classmates is, 'y'all better mean Top Model, cuz if you think I'm going on one of those Real-College-Trip-Bug Eating-Mud Wrestling-Find a Spouse shows, you've got another thing coming!  Geesh, I don't even have TV to watch reality TV, and if I did, I sure as heck wouldn't watch that stuff!  Excuse me, but can I please get the 'Most Likely to be Laura Petrie' award instead?   ... oh never mind, she wears flat shoes anyway.

Tutor Tuesday

I mentioned in an earlier post that we had an official BLSA event this week tutoring.  BLSA used to do a weekly event called Tutor Tuesdays, but I never went.  A 1L, not knowing we used to do this, organized it again, so I decided to go.

The tutoring is part of an after-school program called YES.  The elementary students do activities earlier in the afternoon, and by the pictures on the wall, I guess they go on field trips sometimes, too.  When we arrived they were getting ready for study time.  They each had a folder of special center work.  They're suposed to do a certain amount of work from the folder and then they get a treat of getting to read a story book from the bookshelves.

I sat at a table with My Rhyming Twin, which confused the heck out of the girls at our table, because of the whole rhyming thing.  One of them was convinced we were sisters.  (She also wouldn't believe my braids aren't my hair.)  That girl was in 5th grade, and despite being a bit of a bully and full of attitude, managed to do some work with My Rhyming Twin. 

My girl made me feel hopeless.  She was in third grade and just kept saying she couldn't do anything.  I tried to get her to read, but she couldn't read anything over 3 letters long.  We tried sounding out words, but she couldn't do that either.  Plus, she was constantly getting up, going to get a book, turning pages and putting check-marks on everything.  There were girls like that in my classes in grade school; by the time they were 16, they had kids and drug habits.

Despite her not wanting to work at all, the girl kept talking about how much she liked going to the center.  It made me wonder if she just didn't want to go home.  She was only one of two white children at the center, and she ran right up to my table when she got in the room.  I was kind of curious why she came right up to me, but I didn't ask.  Maybe it was because I was only one of two white volunteers (the other was a middle-aged man).  In any case, it made me feel, for once in my life, like my skin had something to offer.

Most of the time I was sitting there (trying to figure out what to do with this girl), I was thinking about The Legend.  They must have programs like this in the East Bay, and this seems like exactly what he needs.  A job doing anything that pays something, and then a place to volunteer and work with kids the rest of the time.  He would have known what to do with that girl.  I was completely at a loss.

Group Class

Earlier this week, The Prez (see Barrister's entry for pic) arranged for an un-official BLSA event, an exercise class at a local studio.   The classes can only hold five students each, so we had to split up into two classes.  I went to an official BLSA tutoring event with My Rhyming Twin earlier in the evening, so she and I went to the later class with her roommie.  (The Prez came to tutoring too, but left a lil early to go to class.)  Somehow - she must be a miracle worker - The Prez talked Mzzzz Jones into going, too.  But, she was in the earlier class.  Ironically, I think she had more fun than me, despite her strong resistance to going.

The class was ok, but like any other dance-style class, I spent most of it frustrated.  With no arm strength and even less abs muscles, I couldn't do much.  There was this one warm up push-up thing, I couldn't even get down to the ground to push back up again!  And when the teacher said stand up, bend over and touch the floor, I almost laughed.  My body never moves the way other people tell it to. 

In fact, the only move I could do was something my sister and I used to do  in our Sunday School classroom at Tippie  (there was some sort of structural pole in the room).  Apparently, it's called a sit-spin.  The class did make me miss ballet though.  With slower movements and a more rigid posture, I can handle that well enough to at least keep up in class.  And I love leaping :)  This class reminded me of when I tried to take hip hop dance lessons.  I'm better off sticking to dancing in my living room.  Less pressure, cheaper too.

Oh well, guess I better find a new back-up plan for if this whole law thing doesn't work out ;)
(just kidding)

The Ball

I returned to an almost empty house.  Just me and the shadows of a house-guest who's gone home.  A greasy bacon pan in the sink, blow pop wrappers scattered here and there, extra towel in the bathroom, the little things that just aren't quite right.  It's quiet here tonight; quiet and a little bit lonely.  But also, in a strange way, refreshing.  I can breath a little more; my routine and schedule can return.

Now, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade anything for this past weekend.  It was wonderful, and Mr. Trizzle and I had a lot of fun.  I was really happy to see him again and am excited about going to Cali on Friday for Spring Break.  But, it's hard to sort of throw aside your whole life for a few days, trying to squeeze in school work in other places, staying up later, sleeping longer, eating at different times, all that sort of stuff.  In any case, I have all sorts of random stuff going on this week, so I probably won't really have my schedule back until sometime after Spring Break.  Oh well.

Now, for what you guys are all really dying to hear about: The Suit.

Yes, it fit.  Sort of.  The shirt sleeves were a bit short, and the tie was too long.  Good thing I decided to put the French cuffs on the shirt.  He just left them unfolded, the same way I wear my French cuff shirts (cuz the sleeves are too short.)  And we safety-pinned the tie so no one could see it was too long.  The important stuff fit fine.  Here's some pictures.  (Fyi, these were taken near the end of the night, so it's a little more wrinkled than when he first put it on.)

 

The Ball was a lot of fun, despite the crappy DJ.  And happily, many of my friends who said they weren't going showed up anyway!  Here's some pics:

Me and two of those friends who changed their minds at the last minute, the Prez and Chas.

 

Me and Mr. Trizzle, our full outfits.  Don't you just love my shoes?!  They lace up but that part's sort of hidden by my skirt.I was so concerned with Mr. Trizzle's suit that I didn't really know what I was going to wear until the night before.  I pulled the corset and skirt out of my closest.  I threw the skirt together in an hour or so for a college formal, and it was obvious.  I spent the morning before the ball removing pink basting from the waist line, re-tacking down the bias tape "waist band" and putting a hook and eye on the skirt.

More pictures with friends, My Rhyming Twin and the Giant Jamaican.

  

Th is is one my favorite photos of the night.  (Taken by Tarik Downey.)

And... two more nice photos:  (it was going to be one more, but I couldn't make up my mind.)

Hell ...on earth

Hell is supposed to be this horrible place. But the traditional notion of Hell as just really hot doesn't seem that terrible. I like heat, a lot. If Hell is really as unbearable as it's supposed to be, climate should only be a small part of it. To me, Hell is a place filled with the most selfish people, with no empathy, no thoughts or concerns for others, no love for mankind or the earth or God's creation. Those are the people who supposedly wind up there anyway, right?

Well, I've found that Hell, right here on earth. It's called law school. Not the exams, nor the Socratic method, nor the sheer amount of work make this place Hell. It's the people. I have never before in my life met such self-centered people. Every conflict or decision a person has to make, the answer from so-called supportive friends is "you have to protect yourself first". It's always self before others, always. And every gesture, every movement, every action is thus assumed to be in self-interest with some underlying motive or hidden gain for yourself. It's horrible. It's impossible to do anything nice for anyone without being suspected of being up to something.

Anything done that someone disagrees with, or for which they doubt the professed intent, is compared to what someone else has done. With a simple, "if so-and-so could do A and B, there is no reason you can't either." Completely disregarding relevant differences in the situations or, most importantly, the feelings and experiences of the person involved. Trying to get people to do group work, even when they've already agreed, is like pulling teeth. "Well I have this and this and this to do." As if no one else has work either. An assumption laid out as fact, "MY work is more important than whatever you are doing or any of the commitments I have made to participate in what you are doing."

And it's not just the school; apparently it's the profession, too. Most days, I leave my professional responsibility class hating the entire system and its concept of ethics. Do I really have to lower my standards to become part of this drudgery? Am I really no longer allowed to show compassion or concern for others because it's assumed I am only doing so for money? Can I really not just try to be a good person? Am I forced to believe no one in the world has a kind heart, myself included?

When I was growing up, I was struck by the dichotomy between my parents. Mommy is always so kind and giving, and Daddy often seemed so selfish to me. Now I realize, it's not his fault, it's the profession. And in fact, for being part of that profession, he actually is extremely good-hearted and generous. I couldn't see it because I was comparing him to Mommy, and not to other lawyers. Even if sometimes his generosity can only extend far enough to let Mommy and his daughters give, that is more than of what many people here are capable. Here, they try to stop you, to make you feel foolish and stupid, to make you feel it is wrong to give of yourself, to care.

I must note, not everyone here is self-focused. I can think of one exception. My friend Cornelia is one of the kindest, most considerate people I have ever met. But there is a sort of consensus that she does not belong here. She is better than this place. She has so many other talents that go beyond what law can offer her. Somehow, she holds onto her goodness in this sea of selfishness. More than that, she works relentlessly to try to pull out the good that is left in others. Frustrating work to say the least.

The "I" mentality permeates the air. Every breath is suffocated by it. It seeps in through the skin. Powerful enough to convert any "other" focused activity into a suspect, "must be I serving" action in the eyes of all around, it slowly destroys the inner good. If this is the real world, I want to go back to Wisconsin.

(Original Post)

A desk

Disappointed

Metallica - Where the Wild Things Are