my v card

... I lost it last week, and it was glorious.  I couldn't stop grinning.  Really, it was magical.  I had heard that once you know, you "know," but I didn't really know... until I knew.  Ya know?

The analogies could go on...  and on... and on.

I did my first vlookup last week (sorry to those who thought this post might be about something a little different).  Vlookup, in Excel, is the coolest thing I have learned in a really, really long time.  I am, without a doubt, a right-brainer - abhorrent to numbers, calculations, budgets, math, directions, formulas... you get the picture.  In college, I studied my butt off for a D in Accounting.  Those who know me, know that "D's" aren't really my thing (in more ways than one... What is going ON with this blog post?!?!) 

Anyway, I had always figured that Excel was better suited to left-brain people and found irony in the fact that I the only time I used Excel was to manage my personal budget (translation: I didn't use Excel very often at all).  Miraculously, my colleague is an Excel guru, and in the short time we've worked together, I've learned a boatload about what Excel could do for me, my client management and (perhaps most importantly) my sanity.  After sitting on the Excel sidelines for a few weeks watching magic happen, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands and give it a shot.

With some straightforward instruction, a little left-brain thinking and a few key strokes, I was able to isolate a small, detailed and specific group of people out of a file of hundreds.  It was incredible, and beat the heck out of ctrl-F for hours on end.  I was glowing for the rest of the afternoon.

I had no idea it could be so good.

trying my fictional hand

As I've mentioned, I recently signed myself up to write a serial fiction piece with some other writers from The Docket (a legal publication in Denver that tends to be less "legal" and more "publication," and never insists that I actually write about the law).  Anyway, I was writer number three in the series and hadn't read either of the pieces before me until about two days before my deadline.  As I've also mentioned, they say that in order to actually become a legit writer, you should drown yourself with hard-to-meet deadlines.  If on these deadlines, you can produce some decent work, you might have a shot at making writing more than just a hobby.  That's not, however, why I waited until the 11th hour to start my piece.  It had just been one of those weeks after one of those weeks after one of those weeks, and all of a sudden, my deadline was in my face and I was less than prepared.  To make matters worse, I wasn't thrilled about the topic: law school meets murder mystery - a somewhat cheesy whodunnit about cops, law students .... and mmmmuhrrr-der.  


So I did what I could do.  I set up shop at a really cute local wine bar that conveniently had a one-person table outside.  I ordered a great glass of wine, and I stopped thinking about it so much.

This piece isn't necessarily my greatest work.  But for my first published attempt at trying my hand at fiction, it worked out.  And more than anything, I learned an important lesson on this one (a lesson that I've also been learning recently in other areas of my life): Sometimes, it really is better to not have a plan.

Part I of the series can be found here.
Part II found here.

And now... Part III here. Ta da.

Murders final

the more things change...

…the more they sometimes actually really change.

My view of airports and airtime has shifted dramatically in the last 6 months.  It used to be that going to the airport was something I planned my entire day (or week) around.  Like, I have to go to the airport today for a flight, so I better make sure I don’t leave any dishes in the sink.  Or, I have to fly on Wednesday, so I better get a car wash tomorrow.  Or, I’m flying today, so I should really buy a pair of designer sunglasses at the airport.  I know, it doesn’t make any sense, but we do it.  Or, I used to do it, anyway. [OK, fine, in full disclosure, I may have purchased a pair of designer sunglasses at the airport yesterday on my way to Jacksonville.  An awesome, yet unnecessary, impulse buy.  I’ll also be honest and admit that the thought crossed my mind: If the plane goes down, this will have been a total waste of money.]  But for the most part, these thoughts rarely occur to me anymore.

Maybe it’s that, for the general population, flying is still a novelty, and for many, a nerve-inducing novelty.  I’m not the only person I know who thinks the more I fly, the less scary, the less out-of-the-ordinary, the less… justifying? it becomes.  All of a sudden, flying just became a part of the day-to-day, and 8 hours spent on two planes and in three airports (and that’s with everything being on schedule) trying to get home after a one day trip hardly seems like that big of a deal.  It’s an interesting paradigm shift for me. 

I spent a year living in Madrid and a summer living in Argentina.  During those times, I had the incredible opportunity to travel.  At the time I was doing it, I knew it was an incredible opportunity, but I didn’t, for one minute, think it might be my only opportunity to travel like that.  And, for the record, I’m beginning to resent my own lack of realistic-ness (realism?).  I often found it ironic that I had seen more of other continents than I had my own - traveled more in other countries than I had my own.  It feels like I’m chipping away at that dichotomy now week-by-week.  For better or worse.

What never ceases to amaze me in my travels… is mankind.  The human race is truly unbelievable.  And I don’t mean this in an awe-inspired “wow, we’ve really done some amazing things [insert 'electricity, space travel and the iPhone' here] while on this planet” kind of way.  I mean that in a “sometimes I’m surprised at the failure of Darwinism” kind of way.  In other words, the human race is not unbelievable, it’s un-be-LIEV-able.  Like the woman at the Jacksonville airport, screaming at her two sons (who were running AMUCK) while also screaming into the phone at her husband (ex-husband? boyfriend? parole officer? whatever.) about how she really, REALLY needed a [explicative] cigarette, but “they’re gunna make her [explicative] go through security again to have one.”  Now, I don’t have a problem with the F-bomb, per se.  I just had a problem with that woman.  Seriously lady… get a handle on your life.

Or what about the man de-boarding the plane ahead of me, who realized that the one roll-aboard left in the overhead compartment was not his?  He pushed me, with both hands, and proceeded to get in the face of the flight attendant standing behind me and scream at her like the missing bag was not only her fault, but also contained the life-saving serum to cure his inoperable, flesh-eating disease.  It was ridiculous.  After hearing a few F-bombs from him and a couple of “sir, please calm down’s” from the flight attendant, I got off the plane and entered the jetway to see a gentle-looking woman holding a similar-looking bag, patiently waiting to clear up this mess.  Guess what.  She accidentally grabbed the wrong bag as she got off the plane.  Calm the F down… sir.

And don’t even get me started about the guy sitting next to us at O’Brien’s eating (slurping, slopping, licking, picking) his buffalo wings.  Or the woman pretending not to hear her (way too old for this) child screaming “MOOOOOMMMMMYYYY” incessantly at the top of his lungs.  Or the kid sitting in the aisle seat of our row on a virtually empty plane who absolutely refused to move to his own row. 

I met some of the coolest people in the world (literally) while living and traveling abroad.  Mankind continually surprised me – in a beautiful way.  Traveling within my own country, however, has shocked and awed me in a significantly less desirable way.

 

I started out this blog post going in a very different direction.  I actually intended to write about how surprised I am at the way travel doesn’t “affect me” like it used to.  However, what started out with good intentions has clearly turned into a rant… which convinces me that perhaps traveling is taking its toll.  At least for today.  I’m exhausted and irritable.  Can you tell?  Don’t interrupt me when I’m asking a rhetorical question.

Road Warrior: the hoedown

Our team got into Philly and drove two hours through rush hour, to arrive at what we thought was our hotel, exhausted and ready for a relaxing night.  But it was the wrong Holiday Inn.  So was the next Holiday Inn we tried.  It turned out that OUR Holiday Inn was at least 20 minutes outside the city (in BFE, PA).  Foiled by Priceline... again. 

We finally arrived at our location and walked into a rundown lobby, with carpet from 1984 and a surly receptionist.  Tired and a bit slap-happy after a couple margaritas with the client, I noticed the "Manager on Duty" plaque and immediately burst out laughing.  Mr. Daniel Morningwake? The hotel manager's name is Morningwake?!?  That's incredible.  My coworkers looked over and immediately started laughing too.  That's like having a dentist named Dr. Tooth.  You can't make that shit up.  The receptionist stared at us blankly, mouthing "Morningwake" to herself a couple times and shaking her head simultaneously.  She finally looked up at us, made a face that clearly said "I don't get it" and gave us our room keys.  Welcome to the Holiday Inn Grantville, PA.

We proceeded to our rooms to discover the most uncomfortable beds in the universe, but at that point, it didn't matter.  I was wiped.  They say going from west to east is easier with the time change, but I actually think it's worse.  There is no excuse to be falling asleep at the dinner table at 9 pm because on your time, it's really 7 pm, but that trick never seems to work for me.  Knowing I shouldn't be tired makes me more tired.  Anyway, we woke up the next morning to decent Pennsylvania weather that proved amazing compared to the foot of snow Denver was slated to get that day.  Our client-filled day went incredibly well and our team was in high spirits come 4 o'clock.  The client's suggestion of spending a couple hours at Hershey Park in Hershey, PA was the perfect end to a good day and the beginning of a night like none other.

We were kids in a candy shop.  Literally.  After the Chocolate Tour (with singing cows!), we could not get to the candy room fast enough to voraciously swipe our debit cards and shovel the treats into our mouths.  Whatever type of subliminal messaging was being used in that tour... it worked.  Between the milkshakes, cookies, T-shirts and chocolate bars, it was only a matter of minutes before we were fat, dumb and happy, snapping pictures with the Hershey bars and enjoying the bliss of the sugar high before the nausea set in.

We continued the night of decadence with an incredible dinner (which included fabulous wine and lobster mac and cheese) and over-the-top witty banter.  The indulgence and laughter left everyone with side cramps as we hobbled to our cars.  Team Holiday Inn BFE loaded into the Santa Fe to begin the trek back to our hotel.  When we pulled in, one of my coworkers suggested a nightcap at The Saloon - the hotel bar.  We agreed and figured The Saloon would have a total of about three patrons, who, collectively, would have 7 teeth.  Au contraire.


The place was packed - not a seat to be had.  Not only that, it was HUGE, which was surprising because it was very unassuming from the front.  Clearly, The Saloon was the reason Holiday Inn BFE stayed in business because it certainly wasn't the comfort of the beds or the politeness of the staff.  Wide-eyed and jaws gaping, we turned the corner to find a stage with a live band and a massive dance floor filled with line-dancers.  It was incredible.  We somehow found a table on the other side of bar and ordered $2 beers.  I had never seen line-dancing before, at least not up close like this.  Holy cow,  that is some impressive stuff.  There's a different dance for every song (or, as Beans adamantly argued, a different song for every dance), and they all knew all the steps.  People partnered with anyone and everyone - couples of all different shapes, sizes and ages, everyone smiling and laughing and having a grand old time.  It was like nothing I had ever seen, and it totally put the electric slide to shame.  I've never been in the presence of so much dancing and sat so idly on the sidelines watching in awe.  It was a new experience for me.  And the band... they rocked.  One beer easily turned into three and nine o'clock slipped away to midnight before we reminded ourselves that we had meetings in the morning and a long trip back to Denver.  I was sad to call it a night, but amazed at what an incredible night it had turned out to be.

Priceline, thank you.  I owe you an apology and perhaps an extra $50 a night. #chillinattheholidayinn

Finding out your crappy hotel is home to the greatest hoedown this side of the Mississippi (or Ohio?) River.  AWESOME.

truth in educating

For awhile now, I've been comparing the student loan crisis to mortgage crisis and calling for some form of "truth in lending" practices when it comes to student loans.  I feel like I'm a pretty good snapshot of the American public - they just announced that student loan debt now exceed credit card debt in the U.S.  This has been true for me for years.  I can't decide if that should make me feel good about my credit card debt or feel terrible about my loans.  But considering no one should ever feel good about credit card debt, I should probably go with the latter.  Besides, I blame the latter for the former.  That's probably not good either.

Anyway, the newest news (is that redundant?) is that student loan debt now exceeds $1 Trillion in the United States.  One. Trillion. Dollars.  And no one is paying it back.  That's the stick.  I think we need to start focusing on the stick.  No one is actually paying these loans back.  And while some people are living for free in brownstones, most of us are just doing the best we can with what we've got.  And the best we can doesn't include an extra $1000 to throw at student loans.  I mean, the chocolate lab needs to eat, people (NOT to be confused with "the chocolate lab needs to eat people."  That would be terrible).

I digress.  The reason I sat down to write was because USA Today published a good article yesterday:  Lairs, Liars Pants on Fires (or whatever the plural would be).  My coworker pointed out the real title as some guy was reading the article on the plane yesterday, and I knew I had to write about it.

The reality is - people need to know the truth about law school - the lack of post-education jobs, the low salaries, the DEBT.  If, after all that, people are still going to law school and are somehow thinking they'll be "different" (translation: they'll actually come out of law with a job they like that can pay the ginormous bill of law debt), then they have no one to blame but themselves.

and now the stick

Student Loan Bailout.  This is brilliant.   And it just might be crazy enough to work.

It appears I never actually published this post... so I will publish it now because I have nothing more to say.

a fresh perspective

The other night, it was late... very late, and I was still at the office with a deadline.  There are a few important things to note with this, however:  (1) I had a deadline because I was the one who created the deadline, (2) my dog was at the office with me, and (3) I was thoroughly enjoying what I was working on.  None of these things would have happened in law.  It would have been a late night because of someone else's (probably pointless) deadline, and I would have been doing work I hated with no trusty chocolate lab sidekick.  The other positive: I was there with my new AWESOME coworker, who is basically the beans to my rice.

At 11:30 pm or so, just as the wheels were starting to come off and columns were blending into rows, Beans decided we needed a 5 minute breather and sent me the website 1000 Awesome Things.  Go there.  See if you can read it for just 2 minutes.  You can't.  It's smart, funny, and most importantly, it's a really AWESOME perspective on everyday things that we take for granted.  The guy who writes this blog must be so happy, and I found myself saying, "Yeah!  TOTALLY!!" about every three posts.

We've decided to start writing down our Awesome Things.  As Tim would say, "It's important to make the invisible, visible."  Something about actually writing out a great thing when it happens makes it officially "Awesome."

So here's my first:  Bringing tomato soup to work for lunch and finding out there's a huge box of Goldfish in the office.  AWESOME.