14 dollar yoga and dinner at Whole Foods.
Namaste.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Docket
Today, I joined The Docket Committee - the group of lawyers who publish the monthly newsletter, The Docket. It's by lawyers, for lawyers. Most notorious for their April Fools editions (specifically, the mandatory marijuana testing from last year: State Mandates Drug Testing for Attorneys), The Docket provides a much-needed outlet from the stifling monotony and/or overwhelming stress of the every day job. In preparation for my new "hobby," I began reading articles from years past. Here are a few of my favorites:
Babel Fish Saves El Dia
For those who know me, it's obvious why I laughed out loud (not to be confused with "LOL," but really, truly laughed. out. loud.) at this article. After a summer in Argentina as a foreign summer associate (translation: American intern), I more than understand the necessity AND danger of babelfish and its counterparts in translating law. In fact, another intern and I turned in a project we had worked on all summer: a 200 page guide to microfinance lending, targeted to Argentine microfinance institutions (think Grameen Bank) to assist them in soliciting fund from United States investors (it's a mouthful, right...) Basically, we wrote about the benefits of obtaining non-profit (501c3) status in the U.S. But that's not the story. The story is that we busted our butts (ok not really... We slacked off all summer, only working 4 days a week, traveling all over South America, and generally taking advantage of the 3:1 ratio of Argentine Peso : US Dollar, typically at bars, restaurants and shoe stores all over town) to get this report done, staying very late on our last night of work (before each of us left the following morning on our respective vacations: me to Peru, Caitlin to Ushuia and Tierra del Fuego), and left the extensive report on the Partner's desk and having the taxi take us directly to our favorite restaurant for much needed wine and sushi. However, we only produced the report in English. We figured we had a couple days when we got back to "translate it" into Spanish... I mean, how hard could it be? We had be "translating" documents all summer...
Suffice it to say, our translations turned out pretty similar to the babelfish translations and our supervising partner was not pleased. I still feel guilty for how much work we created for the friends we left at the end of the summer, the not-so-foreign summer associates who spent over three months fixing out monstrosity.
Who Is Your Favorite Kid Lawyer
I love this article. Not only did the article's author write a novel himself (clearly my dream), but he covered other books with exceptional plot ideas. I'm left feeling overwhelmed again by those who have gone before me... This article and the story descriptions solidify that I need to incorporate law into my book. Stay tuned for that.
Brazilian What?...
Mostly the title and general subject matter of this article got me. I can certainly appreciate the so-called "feminine struggle:" whether it's with jiu jitsu (the comparison of martial arts to the study of law was especially humorous to me, although I'm not sure that was intent. Is "yoga" a martial art??), being an attorney in a male-dominated profession (or conversely, having your superiors be extremely insecure female attorneys who have battled the male-dominated profession and, in my opinion, lost), or well... the Brazilian myth (what TMI??). But recently, I had a female partner come into my office and matter-of-factly state: "We need to do something about your work attire." My jaw hit the floor. This only happens in movies... right? Wrong. It was perhaps the most cliche conversation I have ever been subjected to: "We want people to respect you for your intelligence. It really isn't a good idea to wear sleeveless shirts and you stay away from skirts." And on, and on and on. Yes, I'm serious.
Anyway, guess what my first article assignment is?? Lawyers Who Blog. Again, I'm serious :)
Babel Fish Saves El Dia
For those who know me, it's obvious why I laughed out loud (not to be confused with "LOL," but really, truly laughed. out. loud.) at this article. After a summer in Argentina as a foreign summer associate (translation: American intern), I more than understand the necessity AND danger of babelfish and its counterparts in translating law. In fact, another intern and I turned in a project we had worked on all summer: a 200 page guide to microfinance lending, targeted to Argentine microfinance institutions (think Grameen Bank) to assist them in soliciting fund from United States investors (it's a mouthful, right...) Basically, we wrote about the benefits of obtaining non-profit (501c3) status in the U.S. But that's not the story. The story is that we busted our butts (ok not really... We slacked off all summer, only working 4 days a week, traveling all over South America, and generally taking advantage of the 3:1 ratio of Argentine Peso : US Dollar, typically at bars, restaurants and shoe stores all over town) to get this report done, staying very late on our last night of work (before each of us left the following morning on our respective vacations: me to Peru, Caitlin to Ushuia and Tierra del Fuego), and left the extensive report on the Partner's desk and having the taxi take us directly to our favorite restaurant for much needed wine and sushi. However, we only produced the report in English. We figured we had a couple days when we got back to "translate it" into Spanish... I mean, how hard could it be? We had be "translating" documents all summer...
Suffice it to say, our translations turned out pretty similar to the babelfish translations and our supervising partner was not pleased. I still feel guilty for how much work we created for the friends we left at the end of the summer, the not-so-foreign summer associates who spent over three months fixing out monstrosity.
Who Is Your Favorite Kid Lawyer
I love this article. Not only did the article's author write a novel himself (clearly my dream), but he covered other books with exceptional plot ideas. I'm left feeling overwhelmed again by those who have gone before me... This article and the story descriptions solidify that I need to incorporate law into my book. Stay tuned for that.
Brazilian What?...
Mostly the title and general subject matter of this article got me. I can certainly appreciate the so-called "feminine struggle:" whether it's with jiu jitsu (the comparison of martial arts to the study of law was especially humorous to me, although I'm not sure that was intent. Is "yoga" a martial art??), being an attorney in a male-dominated profession (or conversely, having your superiors be extremely insecure female attorneys who have battled the male-dominated profession and, in my opinion, lost), or well... the Brazilian myth (what TMI??). But recently, I had a female partner come into my office and matter-of-factly state: "We need to do something about your work attire." My jaw hit the floor. This only happens in movies... right? Wrong. It was perhaps the most cliche conversation I have ever been subjected to: "We want people to respect you for your intelligence. It really isn't a good idea to wear sleeveless shirts and you stay away from skirts." And on, and on and on. Yes, I'm serious.
Anyway, guess what my first article assignment is?? Lawyers Who Blog. Again, I'm serious :)
Monday, October 4, 2010
rant for a monday.
I hate bumper stickers. The occasional clever and funny ones are probably an exception to my general rule, but for the most part, bumper stickers make me cringe. Now, it's one thing to buy a bumper sticker and put it on your car, or to get a bumper sticker for free and put it on your car. It's even "ok" (relatively speaking) to create your own bumper sticker and have it printed or produced ("professionally") and put it on your car. It is ENTIRELY another thing to cut a picture out of a magazine and use packing tape to adhere it to the back of your car.
The general public never ceases to amaze (appall?) me.
The general public never ceases to amaze (appall?) me.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
FOMO
FOMO = “Fear Of Missing Out” (credit: Yoni Mekuria)
My plan has recently become to forego buying a ski pass this year and use that time to work on the book. It really is the perfect plan: I don’t like things I’m not good at, and skiing is certainly one of those things. For the last three years, I have tried (really, really tried) to get into skiing, but it’s not for me. Actually, I have always wanted to make T-shirts and bumper stickers that said “I ski for après” because I do. I ski for as long as I have to ski to be able to justify spending the rest of the afternoon and evening in the hot tub drinking beer and eating expensive cheese (because that’s what you do in the mountains). I don’t actually enjoy skiing. I am just a little risk averse (ha), and skiing is not my passion. Sorry “brah.” And then you throw in that a ski pass is going to cost me at least $700 and I haven’t won the lottery yet… I just don’t think I can do it. I am perfectly happy snowshoeing for a couple hours in the morning (to justify that beer and expensive cheese of course), and then writing for the rest of the day. Or so I thought.
Last night we came up to the mountains to stay at a friend's parents' amazing house in Edwards for his birthday weekend. Within the first 15 minutes of arriving, all anyone could talk about was ski season. Seasons gone by and the season to come... and for a minute, I worried about breaking the news to my skiing buddies and considered bailing on this whole book thing. I could be a sheep - spend the winter "skiing" (yes, those are necessary quotation marks, as opposed to "unnecessary quotation marks", because I am THAT bad at skiing) because that's what athletic people do in the winter in Colorado.
But really, THIS is what I want to do. I want to write a book a whole lot more than I want to be a good skier. I want it to be winter so I can write... and really, what an awesome environment to write in...[blogger won't upload my photos of the aspens turning out the window... bummer. Trust me, they're beautiful].
Going to bike Vail Pass! Cheers!
But really, THIS is what I want to do. I want to write a book a whole lot more than I want to be a good skier. I want it to be winter so I can write... and really, what an awesome environment to write in...[blogger won't upload my photos of the aspens turning out the window... bummer. Trust me, they're beautiful].
Going to bike Vail Pass! Cheers!
Friday, October 1, 2010
patience is a virtue...that I don't have.
I am not a patient person. Generally, when I decide to do something, I want it done yesterday. As a result of being impatient, I am sometimes also impulsive (see my 3-year-old chocolate lab --> who was purchased as an 8 week old puppy following a nasty break-up). I have recognized that my impatience is both a blessing (see same dog), but also a curse. It motivates me to get things done, while also allowing me to procrastinate because I know that once I put my mind to doing something, it'll get done. I've always said that if I could see a snapshot of my future self and know that everything works out, I could be a lot more patient.This endeavor is no different. I've had to visit a couple bookstores recently looking for my book club book... and I've found myself both totally inspired and completely intimidated by the quantity and quality of books out there. Inspiration combined with intimidation is a powerful force. I just want to know how my book turns out before I take all this time to write it. Is that so bad? I mean, what if it sucks? What if it's really terrible... and everyone reads it because they have to, and then they tell me it's great (because they have to)... but really, it sucks? Then what? So I ask this: Please people, if my first book sucks, please, please don't let me write a second one.
i see a theme.
I'm doing a little housekeeping by finishing the blogs I had started over the last couple weeks and, for whatever reason, didn't finish. I'm struck by how funny this one is given the "dolla dolla bills ya'll" post (started a week or so ago and also finished today... can you tell it's Friday afternoon?).
The original title for this post was "Sunday afternoon sesh," and I had planned on writing about how easily the characters were developing themselves. Instead, I wrote about the lottery:
Sunday Afternoon Sesh
"... I just sat down to (finally) write for the weekend... and the first thing I did was check the clock, because that's what we lawyers do before we begin working on project. Maybe for comparison's sake, I should keep track of the time I spend writing a book. That way I can do an actual cost-benefit analysis when the time actually (hopefully) comes to transition from being a lawyer into being a writer.
So, I didn't win the Powerball last night. I've only recently started playing the lottery. That's how I know I need a change in my life. I'm playing the lottery. Regularly. And what's worse... I can't check the winning numbers without having a couple glasses of wine first. Now, I'm a very rational, reasonable person. I know the odds. I know I'm probably not going to win. (What's funny here is that I originally wrote "I know I'm not going to win," but then I deleted that, and added "probably.") But for some reason, when it comes to actually checking the winning numbers, there's a part of me that allows myself to be convinced that I won. You know why? Because something's gotta give. So it might as well be winning the lottery. Right? Well, I didn't win. But I did get two of the numbers, which was enough to make my heart stop momentarily and also ensure that I buy two tickets again next week."
The original title for this post was "Sunday afternoon sesh," and I had planned on writing about how easily the characters were developing themselves. Instead, I wrote about the lottery:
Sunday Afternoon Sesh
"... I just sat down to (finally) write for the weekend... and the first thing I did was check the clock, because that's what we lawyers do before we begin working on project. Maybe for comparison's sake, I should keep track of the time I spend writing a book. That way I can do an actual cost-benefit analysis when the time actually (hopefully) comes to transition from being a lawyer into being a writer.
So, I didn't win the Powerball last night. I've only recently started playing the lottery. That's how I know I need a change in my life. I'm playing the lottery. Regularly. And what's worse... I can't check the winning numbers without having a couple glasses of wine first. Now, I'm a very rational, reasonable person. I know the odds. I know I'm probably not going to win. (What's funny here is that I originally wrote "I know I'm not going to win," but then I deleted that, and added "probably.") But for some reason, when it comes to actually checking the winning numbers, there's a part of me that allows myself to be convinced that I won. You know why? Because something's gotta give. So it might as well be winning the lottery. Right? Well, I didn't win. But I did get two of the numbers, which was enough to make my heart stop momentarily and also ensure that I buy two tickets again next week."
dolla dolla bills y'all
I want to begin by saying I voted for Obama, and if I had to do it over again, I would, if for no reason other than the Income Based Repayment program (http://www.ibrinfo.org/what.vp.html#eligible). However, when it comes to other fiscal matters (ie. taxes), I often find myself agreeing more "conservative/right-wing/republican" individuals (note: I did not use the term "politicians.").
As such, I thoroughly enjoyed this article:
http://abovethelaw.com/2010/09/earning-250000-does-not-make-you-rich-not-in-my-town/
I laughed out loud at the line: "We're middle class. That's what middle class people do: live as far above their means as possible until it becomes impossible. And then we play the lotto like everyone else."
This comment rang especially true for me. A co-worker (another lawyer... with 9 years of experience and resentment more than I have) and I regularly leave the office to go downstairs to the 7-Eleven (yes, there's a 7-Eleven in our building... don't judge) and buy lottery tickets. He always tell me it's the best five minutes of his week because for that time, he lets his mind run away with the possibility of never having to worry about money ever again. When he first let me in on his secret getaways, I laughed and suggested he try yoga instead. But now, a year into my "occupation" (see side bar), we go together.
I can't help but relate to Ben Affleck's character in Good Will Hunting:
Chuckie: Every day I come by your house and I pick you up. And we go out. We have a few drinks, and a few laughs, and it's great. But you know what the best part of my day is? For about ten seconds, from when I pull up to the curb and when I get to your door, 'cause I think, maybe I'll get up there and I'll knock on the door and you won't be there. No goodbye. No see you later. No nothing. You just left. I don't know much, but I know that.
It turns out, my co-worker was right. We take the elevator down to the 7-Eleven. We quietly wait in line to buy our tickets. We scan our issued tickets, taking note of the powerball number. We let ourselves get carried away in the "what if's," and for those five exhilarating minutes, all is right with the world.
As such, I thoroughly enjoyed this article:
http://abovethelaw.com/2010/09/earning-250000-does-not-make-you-rich-not-in-my-town/
I laughed out loud at the line: "We're middle class. That's what middle class people do: live as far above their means as possible until it becomes impossible. And then we play the lotto like everyone else."
This comment rang especially true for me. A co-worker (another lawyer... with 9 years of experience and resentment more than I have) and I regularly leave the office to go downstairs to the 7-Eleven (yes, there's a 7-Eleven in our building... don't judge) and buy lottery tickets. He always tell me it's the best five minutes of his week because for that time, he lets his mind run away with the possibility of never having to worry about money ever again. When he first let me in on his secret getaways, I laughed and suggested he try yoga instead. But now, a year into my "occupation" (see side bar), we go together.
I can't help but relate to Ben Affleck's character in Good Will Hunting:
Chuckie: Every day I come by your house and I pick you up. And we go out. We have a few drinks, and a few laughs, and it's great. But you know what the best part of my day is? For about ten seconds, from when I pull up to the curb and when I get to your door, 'cause I think, maybe I'll get up there and I'll knock on the door and you won't be there. No goodbye. No see you later. No nothing. You just left. I don't know much, but I know that.
It turns out, my co-worker was right. We take the elevator down to the 7-Eleven. We quietly wait in line to buy our tickets. We scan our issued tickets, taking note of the powerball number. We let ourselves get carried away in the "what if's," and for those five exhilarating minutes, all is right with the world.
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