IN THIS VERY ROOM

Hmm, I've been posting quite a lot the past couple months. (For me.)

I was talking with my parents tonight about the redecorating and additions they are doing to the house. To my great sorrow they've torn out the spiral staircase that lead to our basement and don't intend to replace it. I mean, c'mon!!! How many kids can say they had a spiral staircase in their basement?? Although I'm not sure if it technically qualified as a spiral staircase since it didn't even make it a full 360 degrees around. I mean, it was only going down about 7 feet, so it only managed, oh, I dunno, 200 degrees or so.

My room, growing up, had pink wallpaper. With white flowers. Not that you could see it for most of my youth, because I collected posters. (Maybe because my room was pink flowers.) And I literally covered my walls in posters. I even rearranged my furniture so that my bed and my dresser were back to back in the middle of the room, not touching any walls, so that I could have more room for my posters. Also I just like rearranging my room. I prided myself on coming up with endless variations - no small feat, let me tell you, since the big corner desk with it's shelves all the way up to the ceiling was stuck in the same corner.

But anyway, over the years since leaving for college I have slowly taken some of the posters down, and the wallpaper is reappearing. But I haven't been able to quite make myself take them all down. (And not only because of the wallpaper, which everyone agrees has to go. It's days are numbered.) It's also because I like color. When I walk into that room, it's this explosion of life and color - but not so much in an assault on your sense type of way as it is it just feels really *alive*. I've always considered my room to be an expression of myself.

But I was talking with a friend recently who was discussing how his parents had redone his bedroom into a guest room, basically, but that they had tried to cater to his sensibilities by decorating it in an Asian style. And right then in the conversation it hit me, "You know, I'm really ready for that room to look different."

It's not a complete letting go of the past. I'm still not ready to turn it over to my parents, relinquish all claim to that room, and honestly say "I don't care what the heck happens to it." But I also recognize that I am not living there now, that my parents' lives are changing and the house is changing to accomodate them (for instance, there is a baby crib in my room now for the grandkids.)

And so I don't want all my posters up. I don't want to walk into that room and have it be basically the living dead. Because as it is, even though I've taken some stuff off the walls, it's a little piece of highschool frozen in time. It used to be I liked it that way - when I went home I was falling into all my old haunts, doing all the same things with all my old friends. But their lives have changed just as much as mine has in the past 6 years. We don't do the same things anymore when I go home. The dynamics are different. After all, they're doing things like marrying, having kids or at least a dog, buying houses and so on. That isn't a sad thing at all - I'm sure some will read it that way. It's happy - most of them are quite happy with their lives, and that's really great to see. And I'm happy with my life, so we're all just a bunch of happy people. (Yeah okay there's those pesky real world responsbilities, but I'm glossing here, okay? Let me gloss!)

My point is, I'm okay with how things have changed. And suddenly instead of being comforting, the idea of going home to that room, which is frozen in 1999, is just . . . limiting. My room has always been an expression of myself. And so somehow, I want that room to be an expression of the realities of my life as it is now.

Part of that reality is that it's not really my room anymore. It's the room where the babies sleep when they come. It's the only guest bedroom, since renovations are in progress. It's the second room in a house of a couple who's last kid has been out of the house for a few years now, and who have moved on to a new stage in their life, doing things like running for office and (yet again) redefining their business.

So it's weird . . . it's like . . . I don't want anyone to tell me I have to give up that room. (Even though some people have, rightly pointing out it's not mine yadda yadda.) I want to let go of my own free will, to say "Hey, I've moved past this." After all, my room has always been an expression of myself. This is possibly why I reacted very poorly when my sisters double teamed me telling me I needed to take my posters down. It's not that I disagree. But this is something so much more personal than just a room to me - it's about the possibility that I may never live near my family again, to cut down to the heart of it. That's why I've kept it frozen in time. So the best way I can think of to say I've moved on is to redecorate it myself - in accordance w/ what Mom and Dad want done with it.

So I offered to strip the wallpaper and redo the room while I'm home over the summer. For some reason just taking all my posters down doesn't satisfy me. I'm reluctant to take them down until Mom and Dad are ready to actually *do* something with the room (not just talk about doing something.) It would be so bare and forlorn and sad . . . like the shadow of myself or something, all lost and lonely. I'd rather just have the whole thing redone in one fell swoop. An new creation, instead of a shadow of the old.

Unfortunately, Mom and Dad are pretty preoccupied with afore mentioned major remodeling and building of additions. So they didn't jump at the idea of repapering the bedroom at the same time.

But maybe I can convince them.

So if I had to say there's one thing that I am a die-hard fan of, it wouldn't be Dark Angel, or Alias. It would be Country Music.

Many people do not understand this. So below are my comments on the CMA awards . . . if you read through them and follow some of the links you might begin to glimpse what country music is all about.

Comments on the Country music Music Awards:
(and upfront I'm giving credit to cowboylyrics.com and Amazon.com
Warning: ifyou're on IE cowboylyrics has a lot of pop ups. ON mozilla it's fine. Also I don't know / can't post direct links to open up the song snippets straight from here, so you'll have to select the track mentioned from Amazaon's list)

No mention so far of this year's Entertainer of the year (again) Kenny Chesney's unexpected wedding to Renee Zelleweger . . . guess that's the diff between country music and other forms of entertainment; there's still some respect for personal boundaries.

A number of the live performers have seemed a bit off key . . . I'm not sure if it's the influence of alcohol, the lack of the normal accompaniment that you hear on the radio, or a problem with the sound system . . . or nerves, since it's been some of the newbies so far.

Faith Hill, who's become a cross-over hit and has been one of the biggest of the "less country-ish country" type of music,(you probably know "This Kiss") had a role in Stepford Wives, and has an international following like Shania Twain, is decidedly changing her pace with the song "Y'all I'm still a Mississippi Girl!" Incidentally she seemed to largely avoid the pitch problems of previous singers.

Whoohooo!!! Tim McGraw!!! He won best song of the year for "Live Like You Were Dying" - an uplifting song about, essentially carpe diem. (A man recovered from something very serious but unnamed, like cancer, and found new meaning in life. This is country to the heart - some people would claim it's depressing, but any country fan would say it's uplifting, because it's about someone overcoming obstacles and gaining a new insight on life. That's what it's all about: sure hard things might happen, but human spirit triumphs!
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/mcgraw-tim/live-like-you-were-dying-13619.html

And now he's singing a song that really reminds me of Moberly in some ways. It's a song about "his" hometown, and how it's a town of extremes, "Drugs or Jesus". Moberly is around 14,000 people, but I counted the churches in the Sunday paper once; there's something like 75 area churches . . . I counted more than 90 actually but some of them are surrounding towns, so I'm downgrading it a bit. However there are also many many bars, and plenty of underage drinking. It's a song that's both sad and nostalgic, kind of about someone coming to terms in their own internal life with this struggle between religion and temptations.
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/mcgraw-tim/drugs-or-jesus-13620.html


But man, I really really wish Big & Rich would have won *something* this year!!! Two years in a row they've been snubbed both in the "Best New Artist" category and in the "Best Duo" category. (Country music has a lot of duos . . . dominated by Brooks and Dunn, of course, who won again. But anyway the point is there's enough to give it a category separate from Best Group.) If you aren't familiar with Big & Rich (and I expect you aren't) they broke onto the music charts with their song "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy", [thus my away message] and musically their stuff just sounds soo unique!! They've got some really interesting harmonies that take a bit to get used to, but are really cool. They've run their own open jam session in Nashville for years, dubbed Muzic Mafia, which is doing something really unique, really interesting, and really fun with country music! They've used their own fame to launch what could be country music's first African American star (if people go for it) Cowboy Troy, who is the leader of "hick hop" . . . i.e. country rap. It's interesting stuff . . . but while Big and Rich could make it, I think Hick Hop might not get so far. But for pete's sakes, B&R are great, Gretchen Wilson ("Here for the Party" and "Redneck woman") has won I think 3 awards in two years; she broke out at the same time as B&R. B&R have had a number of songs with lots of radio play:
(I'm not linking to the lyrics because with Big and Rich especially you have to experience the song, not just the lyrics, to really get how awesome they are.
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00020H916/qid=1116385485/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/103-5012971-4953401
That's the link for their CD on Amazon - go listen to them!! Save a Horse, Holy Water, Big Time, Wild West Show are their major radio songs so far)


*sigh* Whiskey Lullaby won best vocal event . . . Brad Paisley and Allison Krauss. Musically it's very good, very haunting but it's sooooo depressing. I mean, if you look at the links for the other country songs I've been talking about here you'll see they represent a mix, from Wilson's and B&R's get-down-and party songs, to McGraw's introspective songs, to Sugarland's upbeat overcoming the odds song (see below.) But this one is just depressing!!!
However, Paisley and Krauss are wonderful singers, and Paisley really does a wide variety of songs. For those who doubt country music has a sense of humor (which is dead wrong), I would point you to his song "Celebrity", an amusing song (and an amusing video in which Jason Alexander appeared)
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/paisley-brad/celebrity-2118.html
and listen
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00009YXGV/qid=1116386861/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/103-5012971-4953401

(btw, best musical event is loosely designed to honor performances which are unique to a time and place and often include special guest singers . . . for instance Nora Jones and Dolly Parton singing Creepin')


Whoohoo!! Sugarland singing "Baby Girl"!!!! I want to give this song to my parents somehow because it just sums up my relationship with them. And it sounds like they're having fun up there on the stage, and they're on key too! And again, it's one of those uplifting songs about going after your dreams and succeeding against odds.
to read:
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/sugarland/baby-girl-14081.html
and to listen:
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000640XPW/qid=1116386788/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/103-5012971-4953401



I eventually want to make a whole website dedicated to convincing people that country music expresses the full range of human emotion and does so spectacularly, but for the moment this blog entry will have to suffice.

Calling all Harry Potter fans, calling all Harry Potter fans. :-D

I've decided to go on record with my predictions, since I'm expecting that the 6th book, which comes out in July, will begin to give definite shape to certain quandries. For instance, who will Hermione end up with?

My first inclindation is to say that Rawlings is leading up to Harry / Ginny and Ron / Hermione pairings. After all, Ginny seems to pop up places where there isn't a real need for her to pop up unless Rawlings wants to keep her involved for some reason. And let's face it, Cho Chang just isn't up to Harry's standards!!! He needs a much stronger, more down to earth female. Ginny fits the bill there. As for Hermione, while the movies leave some room to think there might be some HP / HG tension, the books seem to make it pretty clear that Harry doesn't remotely think of Hermione that way, and given how pragmatic Hermione is about Harry's involvement with Cho (compared to her and Ron's fit about the ball) I think it's clear Hermione is not meant to be with Harry.

Now, who's the half blood prince? This is trickier - or else much simpler. It seems like Voldemort is the likely choice as he's half blood and makes claims to nobility. But then it seems one book too early . . . Voldemort and harry's final showdown just about has to be in the last book (unless we are to be surprised, and book 7 is a happy post-climatic here's how life goes view) so why name the 6th book after him and not the seventh? She could name both after voldemort, of course.

Will harry be quidditch captain this year? I'm kind of inclined to think not yet - there is still one senior member, Katie bell, who's on the team. And wouldn't it be crazy if Ron got quidditch captain his senior year? I actually think that would be a neat twist, a way of bringing Ron into his own instead of just being pure side kick. And Ron would be fanatic about it in much the same way that Oliver was!

That's about as far as I'll go tonight I think. I reread the books earlier this spring and am very hyped for the next one to come out.

So for the past two days I've been having weird chest / heart discomfort things. Over the weekend Rob's grandfather had emergency open heart surgery (triple bypass - he's doing well) and I guess that's gotten me a little stressed and a little sensitive to heart concerns. But at the same time I was going "Am I becoming a hypochondriac?"

Yesterday i was feeling a little light headed; today pretty much all afternoon I felt anxious - that physical feeling of nervousness / anxiousness that until this evening I thought everyone experienced. Apparently not everyone does. But you know, generally feeling like your heart is beating to fast.

The thing is, past post not withstanding, there isn't really anything in my life to justify a couple hours of anxiety I don't think.

So finally this evening I called my Mom. She's been to the ER twice in the past six months; the second time turned out to be gallstones, but the first time it was for heart stuff. After talking to her, I think that what I'm experiencing is probably the same as what she's been having.

She said that the time she went to the doctor her heart was pounding for two and a half hours like she was really anxious, but that she's experienced the sensation often over the course of her life - heart pounding in situations when it didn't really seem called for. Like sitting at home watching nothing in particular on TV. The doctor said that basically her heart was misfiring. The left side of your heart beats and then your right, but in her case, the timing was off and the two beats were running into each other. They hooked her up to the EKG or whatever to test her heart rate, and detected the irregular rhthym, but also determined that when she exercised it went away. So the doctor's solution was simple: exercise more. He gave her some blood pressure medication temporarily and now she's not even taking that. He said it was largely a stress induced phenomenon.

It was an interesting explanation actually. He said that in days of yore, when a human was feeling fear / anxiety / worry it was because there was some physical danger in front of him - say a hungry lion. The appropriate response to such a fear was a physical one - i.e. spear the lion. So the body produced adreneline, which helped it respond faster and stronger. These days, we sit at desks and worry about intangibles, but our reactions aren't physical, so the producing adreneline rush causes problems.

It was very interesting to hear her say that, because I've felt for some months now this feeling of heaviness on my chest . . . very very faint, nothing major, just something that generally provoked in me the desire to go run or burst into some major cardio activity, because when I was active the feeling went away. I spent 7 years becoming a strong athlete, and then spent the 7 following years slowly becoming more and more inactive. Last year I still went to the gym some, went and roller bladed some, and I was playing with little kids - definitely a physical activity! But this year I've hit rock bottom, as far of an extreme from the highschool basketball player that I was as I can possibly get. So since the doctor's main prognosis was "stress and lack of exercise" being the problem for my Mom, it seems reasonable that I, having similar symptoms with similar physical attributes, also suffering from "stress and lack of exercise", would be having the same problem.

Especially since I take after my mother in a number of ways which, as I've come to learn more about women's health at the coaxing of my sisters, are very important. We're the same physical build and both have similar blood sugar issues, two factors which are very important in determining risk for heart disease. And we both tend to have low blood pressure.

Anyway I realize it can be dangerous to do this whole self-prognosis thing; I need to get Cornell's health form filled out anyway to get back on their health plan, so I figure I'll schedule a regular check up with my doc to get that taken care of and I'll bring this issue up with her at the same time.

In the meantime, I think sleeping so I can exercise in the morning is a good first step. :-)

It's been a . . . sad week. Monday morning at work a friend from home, E, called me on my cell, and as I was in the middle of something, I flipped her over to voicemail, thinking she probably was just hoping to catch me on lunch break and chat, as I occassionally call her on my lunch break. 30-40 minutes later it occurred to me that I better check, though. It was obvious from her voicemail that something was wrong.

The short version is that the father of our mutual close friend W had killed himself over the weekend. Put a gun to his head an pulled the trigger . . . and W and her sister had essentially been the ones to find him. I mean, they had called the police to report him missing, and the police went into the apartment first and covered the body, but still . . . it wasn't a pretty sight . . .

Even though I'm not there, except when I'm thinking about work at work, this tragedy has dominated my thoughts. Probably because I'm not there. It's hard to explain how important this friend is to me. W is one of my oldest, closest friends . . . we've known each other since first grade and been close friends since about 7th. She, E, B, and I have the type of friendship they make movies about, like Steel Magnolias or Ya-Ya-Sisterhood. (I think, I've never seen the second one. And sorry about the stupid letter thing but on a topic like this . . . ) We're all very different personalities, and our friendships have had their rough spots, but somehow, despite time, distance, and changing lives, we always come back together. They are constants in my life like few other things . . . no matter what I can always come back and feel right at home with them. Not "as if I'd never left", just as if it didn't matter that I'd been gone.

So when this happened, E and B were right there w/in a few hours of finding out. They live close by of course, making it easier, but still, I've been dealing with this terrible guilt about not going back. I feel like I should be there. It's the hard times that really show the test of friendship.

And I guess that's the inner demons I'm struggling with come out. Mostly I'm feeling sad for W, but another reason this is so hard is because I'm struggling with a lot of guilt. It isn't just this - it's also my sister having her baby, my grandmother turning 90 and not going to be around long, my parents remodeling the house and struggling to keep up with all their responsibilities and me thinking I should be helping them and instead I'm still depending on them to help me.

It's frustrating, not being there.

I wrote this for W, and I think I want to put it on here, too . . . there are two lines I wish I could change but I haven't come up with something better that works as well yet . . . it won't mean much to the people who read this most often, but it's evocative of some of the best memories I have of times with this set of friends.

Lingering
Can you remember back to the days
Of wacky nail polish and Greenday?
When adventure was a 30 mile trip to the mall
And romance waiting for that guy to call?
Remember evenings at a cabin by the lake,
All of us talking just for talking's sake?
The smell of brat's cooking on the grill,
The queen of spades going in for the kill?
Remeber back to the days when we were young
And life was a song that was still unsung?
It really wasn't that long ago
When I didn't know what I didn't know.
Time has passed and lives have moved on
But I never really leave the places I've gone.
~CS, May 2, 2005

Since I'm on the nephew role, I figured I'd repost this link to my (pitiful) website, or rather a page on it which has pictures of Tamara's son and my first nephew Noah.

http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/cs234/Noah.html
the webpage is just
http://www.people.cornell.edu/pages/cs234/index.html

my sister and her newborn

Alexander Carl Basi (Russian - German - Italian name, I love it!)

Grandpa, Alexander Carl, and Mama

I'm an aunt! Again! And it's another nephew!!

But it's the first time we've done the whole pregnancy thing. "We" of course being a bit of stretch since I obviously had nothing to do with the whole pregnancy . . . despite my sister Andrea telling me that little Alex looked just like me because he had my flat eyebrows and dimpled chin. I had to remind her that lots of people in our family have the dimpled chin; we call "the Luth chin" because it's a dominant trait from my Mom's family, the Luths. Andrea however pointed out that I'm the only Sander girl to have inherited the Luth chin, a fact I hadn't ever thought about. But then the flat eyebrows, she admitted, could belong to Alex's father. ;-)

But yeah, I'm pysched! My nephew Noah (adopted from China) is adorable, but there's something about a brand new baby that just really brings out the maternal "oooh, ahhh, I want to hold him!!!" instinct - particularly since I'm a thousand miles away and missing out on all the family fun on this one. :-( I won't see little Alexander Carl until June. :-( My Mom, Dad, Grandma, and sister Andrea were all at the hospital when he was borng . . . they had to do an unplanned C-Section. "Little" Alex was 10 pounds 6 ounces when he was born last night - the size of a two month old!!!! Imagine that in your stomach - ouch!!

*sigh* Since Noah came around my family has been getting together as a group more often; it used to be we rarely got everyone together in the same room at the same time (a fact of life with 7 people with busy lives) but it seems that the grandchild - and now grandkids - are making people make the effort.

*shakes it off* but just focus on the good stuff. Like the adorable little baby in the family! You didn't think I'd not post pictures did you? Let's see if I can get this bloggerbot to work . . .

So I've really only posted rather serious thoughts and so forth, and I thought those of you who actually read this thing should be rewarded with some humor. :-) A joke first, and then a completely unrelated link . . . a computer programmer's unique resume.

The Pentagon announced today the formation of an ELITE FIGHTING GROUP called the U.S. REDNECK SPECIAL FORCES (USRSF) The boys of this unit, Cooter,
Bubba, BillyBob, Hoss, Buck and Boo, will be dropped behind enemy lines.

They will be given the following information about Iraqi Terrorists:

1. The season opened last weekend.
2. There is no limit.
3. They taste just like chicken.
4. They don't like beer, pickups, country music, or Jesus.
5. They are directly responsible for the death of Dale Earnhardt.

THE WAR SHOULD BE OVER IN A WEEK. 

And now the resume to appeal to a whole different type of humor . . .


http://213.186.36.10/~al/alstudio/cv/en.htm

[btw, I didn't mean to delete this previously, just amend the one truly embarrassing thing and omit the one single last name which might have given away any details. There are after all a million law firms around.]

So the screw up at work turned out to not be a big deal, really. To be slightly clearer than I was in the last post, we've been transcribing incriminating phone calls from this mutual fund, and entering them into a database. The only source of dating the individual wav files was a printout of the wav file names with their dates, and the to / from on them. We the paralegals didn't actually have access to the original database from which this printout came - it was sourced at another firm - we just had the hard copy. Many of the dates which I had listed as 1-xx-xx should have been 11-xx-xx, i.e. november not January. However the printout I was given had listed them as 1, not 11. The deal was that somebody had not adjusted the column widths appropriately, so that it could only handle 5 digits. so November 3, 2001 was listed correctly as 1-3-01, but Noveber 23 2001 was listed as 1-23-01. The attorney had accused me of making "all these dates wrong" (about 20 or 30) when after double checking, I had only made two typos in the whole thing.

She rather yelled at me, actually, and then stormed out, leaving me to double check my work, which was just as well. Because with time to think, I drafted a brief, to the point email that explained what had happened, pointedly apologized for the two typos I had made (pointedly not apologizing for the rest of incorrect dates because they were incorrect on the sheet I'd been given.) And this attorneys, who have the habit of getting quite frosty and grade-schoolish when they're dissatisfied with your work, have been perfectly normal to me ever since. I actually think they kind of respect me more for standing up to them. (This is the second time I've had to defend paralegal work to accusatory attorneys; the first time was on behalf of all three of us though rather than just me personally.)

The catch is that I sort of noticed the problem when I was originally going through the transcriptions because October 23 2001 showed up as 0-23-01 which told me that some of the numbers were being cut off. I meant to check up and verify the January dates to make sure they weren't November, but it wasn't actually my case, I was just helping out one of the other paras, and so I didn't pursue it as relentlessly as I would have otherwise. That was the mistake that I actually made, but I simply didn't mention that in the email - I would have owned up to it immediately had any of the attorneys pressed the issue with me, but they didn't bother. So I kind of got out of that. And now Scott is tasked with reverifying the dates anyway so even that's being taken care of. Lesson in carefullness learned for me w/o losing too much face with the attorneys or causing major case hiccups - best that can be asked for I guess.

Interestingly enough, the only times I've felt the wrath come down upon me have been when I'm working on one of the other paras cases to help them out. It's kind of galling, because I hate getting in trouble and I hate messing up, and when it's not your own case you have a lot less control over, well, everything.

However, for me the tension at work disappeared when John, one of the associates, screamed down the hall that our senior partner, Mr. Elsen, was a "fucking cocksucker".

Ah yes, see, if you got this far, you actually have something interesting to read. ;-)

John is my favorite attorney because he's very calm, willing to explain things to the paras w/o coming across as the slightest bit condescending or annoyed like we should already know everything w/o any training, takes the time to really fill you in on what's happening, and generally treats the paras like equals . . . well not quite like equals, but peers if you will . . . treats us with respect. I've heard virtually every other attorney in the office lose their temper before then, but John has never raised his voice in anger or excitment except for that day last week when he yelled "On top of all this I have to take this abuse? Mr. Elsen is a fucking cocksucker! There, now the whole firm heard it!" and slammed his door, knocking plaques off the wall, and stormed out for the rest of the day.

And we had a brief that we had to get fed-exed to Chicago that day so local counsel could file it. Guess who the attorney on the case was? John. Guess who the para was? Cecelia.

I thought John was fired for sure. Strangely enough the partner on the case actually seemed in a good mood that day. And he and John talked it out the next morning - didn't even take very long, honestly - and everything worked out fine.

I mean how many jobs can you get away with behaviour like that?????

On the upside, it put me in a position to make a good impression with Mr. Elsen, because with the associate gone, he turned to the para to do one or two things that normally he'd ask John to do. (Honestly they're more appropriate for paras anyway, but Mr. Elsen has been known to call paras into his office and dictate an email to us, which we then type, print, he edits, we retype, reprint, he edits, we retype, reprint, he edits . . . )

So basically, with half the attorneys I feel pretty good about my work and my position with them. With the other half, I'm on tentherhooks every time they ask me for something because I'm afraid I'm going to screw up!

So I fucked up at work today. Well, more accurately, the mistake happened over a month ago and is just now bearing its sour fruit, as it were, completely blindsiding me. Hindsite is 20/20 and all that. But it did lead me to a useful insight to law. In my opinion, law is a stressful career because it requires you to do things both quickly and absolutely perfectly.

This is somewhat a "well duh" statement, I know. And yet when you think about it, at least in the academic world, speed and perfection are usually trade-offs. If the report has to be done tomorrow you sacrifice a little bit of quality to just get it done. If it needs to be absolutely perfect, the (good) student knows she'd better plan ahead and give herself plenty of time to check and double check. In the legal world, you don't always have the luxury of double checking.

That wasn't exactly the case in this instance - after all the mistake happened a month ago, I had plenty of time to go back and look it over. But it was a long term project, so once I finished the "rough draft" if you will I set it aside and moved onto other things. It wasn't even my case to be honest - that's why I set it aside. It was something I was doing to help out one of the other paras, and then a large project came up in my own case, so I immersed myself in that project, and never got back to tidying up the original project. Then this morning they want to see what we've accomplished so far, and well, this afternoon, problems ensued.

That's the thing about this job - almost every time I've screwed up in any significant way, it hasn't been because of stupidity or carelessness / thoughtlessness. Well, actually, I guess it depends on what you call carelessness. The point is, each screw up has come down to problems in the details, and each time it wasn't that I didn't think about those details, it was just that I made a decision to do something the faster way, or the "good enough" way, and it came back and bit me on the ass.

In a way this is comforting, because if I was simply totally oblivious, then that would be a bigger problem. This is just a matter of learning not to opt for the "good enough" way. The reason why this thing blindsided me today was a matter of changing circumstances. I had done the project in a way which meant that the small errors which are inevitable in any "rough draft" of mine shouldn't have been a big issue, given the way I thought the attorneys would be using the data I was assembling. At least not in the initial phases - when we got down to using them as evidence that would be a different story, but that is probably over a year away. But they apparently decided at some point to do things differently than originally planned, without passing along that information to the paras. Had my data been 100% accurate it wouldn't have been a problem at all. But the change in method magnified the errors to a much greater importance.

Anyway, this job has been a good learning experience precisely because I can get screw ups like that out of the way now when it's relatively unimportant, rather than when I'm in my first internship after law school. I am slowly coming to terms with the high expectations that one encounters in this field, and learning how to adjust my thinking to meeting them.

Every other job I've had has involved a certain amount of fudging, now that I think about it. We taught our refs that if you're officiating an intramural game and you're uncertain about a call, go with your best judgement but be decisive about it even if you're not sure. In retail like at Bath and Body Works - if somebody asks you a question about a product that you aren't sure about, don't lie to them, but you're supposed to know your products, so you can't always say "let me look that up for you." So you fudge it.

Political science: weak points in your argument? Fudge them a bit and try to steer the emphasis elsewhere.

But when you're a paralegal? Fudging is a dangerous dangerous thing!

My parents are coming this weekend and I'm really excited. I just bought us tickets to see Fiddler on the Roof on Friday evening. My dad, who dislikes cities and therefore has been somewhat unenthusiastic about the location (although I know he's glad to see me), seemed a bit more enthused about the trips after I told him. :-) For myself there are a number of other musicals I'd rather see, but my parents really like Fiddler on the Roof. I hesitated because they've seen it performed by the local highschool and seen the movie plenty of times, they've sung the songs in choir and so forth, so it's very familiar to them. But this is the first time they're seeing something on Broadway. We're a very musical family and we enjoy musicals a lot, so I was remembering my thrill when I saw my first show on Broadway, and it had nothing to do with what I was seeing. Or actually - it was more that I was seeing something for real, in person that I'd heard the soundtrack to hundreds of times. (Miss Saigon) It was better that it was something I knew and loved. And when you add to that my parents' conservative ideas, (they walked out of Pippen at intermission, for instance) it was better to stick with something tried and true.

I'm not NYC expert by any means, but I have gotten used to working there. And while my grand total of 3 Broadway shows makes me a pretty novice theater goer, it's still just enough that the whole "it's Broadway" euphoria has chilled a little bit into just a "it's good theater / music." So I'm totally pysched to be giving my parents that first "woah, cool, once-in-a-lifetime experience" type feeling.

Especially my Dad. My mom actually visited NYC for the World's Fair in the 1960s. And she's been pretty excited to go see not all the museums but just the things New York is known for: Tiffany's, Bloomingdale's, Rockefeller Center, Central Park, etc. So I wasn't worried about her. But my parents work really really hard . . . they are two giant stressballs all the time because they work 7 days a week virtually all the time, and 10 hour days . . . although with their jobs (farmer and politician) you can't really define how many hours they work. I guess that's the thing - they don't have jobs, they have lifestyles. They live and breathe their work. Sure some people say that about people who work in office jobs, and I do not for a second intented to belittle what such professionals do or the effort they put in. But it's still different . . . a farmer never leaves his job, he lives there *literally* not just figuratively. That's not necessarily a bad thing. My Dad loves what he does, even though he doesn't love all the stress or the lack of money. But it's the only way he's ever lived his life. He grew up waking up in the wee hours of the morning to milk the cows before he went to school. And Mom, well, the whole State Representative thing is a relatively recent turn of events (sure she's in her 3rd year but wehn you consider that she is 55 years old, that's recent.) But it's a lifestyle too., a job that never goes away, that while it may technically have an "office" is really a job that happens everywhere she goes, be it the supermarket or the hog market.

So I guess knowing how hard they work, and knowing how stressed they are most of the time, I just really want this vacation to actually be a vacation for them. So it makes me feel good that I've given them something to look forward to.

So, I hit upon an interesting thought tonight that I feel like expounding. It occurs to me that this would be a particularly interesting conversation to have with my ex boyfriend, actually. But it comes down to the whole "question everything" philosophy.

People at times find me a real pain in the ass to try to teach something to. I come across as stubborn, willful, think I know it all, or something like that - even people who should know me well enough to understand me feel this way. It drives my sisters crazy. They are constantly talking about how I never want advice.

Example one: For some reason, one day, my uncle and I were messing around with some electronic equipment, and I wanted to plug the VCR or whatever into the wall, and he said "You can't do that." and I said "why not?" and he said "just trust me, you can't." and I said "why not?" and he said "okay fine if you don't believe me, try it yourself." and I said "I didn't say I didn't believe you, I just wanted to know why not?" and he said "because it's a three prong plug and a two prong hole." and I said "Okay." (I couldn't see the plug when I was asking this.)

Example two: Rob was trying to teach me how to do some simple maintenance thing on my car, I don't remember what. But I was questingin him as he showed me the steps, and he got really irritated with me. Afterward I said "But I just want to understand what you're doing" and he said something to the effect of that was fine but it was rude to ask all those questions when I had asked somebody for help, because it made it seem like after I asked them for help I was questioning their competence. So in his opinion I should wait to ask questions until after he was done.

Well that method of waiting to the end to ask has it's limitations. I believe part of Rob's point was that sometimes the answers become evident later in the process, and so one should wait to the end to see what one doesn't understand. I get that, but it doesn't work very well with the way my mind operates. If I don't understand a step in the process I won't remember that step.

And so this got me thinking that I guess this is just my general approach to life: question everything. It's not meant to be offensive to anyone . . . in my world view, if you're right, then you'll be able to put me in my place pretty quickly if I question you, and I'm the type of person who can usually admit it when someone else is right, so what's the big deal? But why should I take anything as gospel truth w/o at least thinking about it a bit?

But here's the key . . . it seems like a lot of people who wander around going "Question everything" usually end up believing that there aren't answers at all. I say "question everything", but I also believe there are answers.

If you're wondering why your Christmas card has stickers sealing it, its because the humidity in my Providence apartment ruined the seal on the Christmas cards last summer. Now, I wasn't scooping up bargain priced Christmas cards after New Years 2004. I just had cards left over. Being a pack rat is a tradition in my family. But holidays have their own special pack rat tradition: the wrapping paper box.

I have two whole boxes devoted to Christmas stuff now, one for the fake tree and one for the ormanements, wrapping paper, cards, etc. It makes me feel like I've really gone somewhere in the world, because I now have holiday boxes. ;-) Of course perhaps this only makes sense when you understand that nobody ever, ever ripped the paper in my household. Our restraint was not out of natural inclination for tidiness, but because all wrapping paper was carefully folded and placed in the wrapping paper box, to be pulled out again next year. There is one steadily shrinking piece of Mickey Mouse paper that came from an aunt when I was in grade school that still resides in the wrapping paper box. We treat it with reverence, cutting from it only for the most special of gifts, and making sure it gets a nice safe place between the stiff, folded up JCPenny's boxes that also live in the big wrapping paper box.

Little poll? Anybody else's family grow up with a wrapping paper box? I'm genuinely curious.

*turning to a less rosy memory and to a more somber note*
You know though it's occurred to me a number of times recently, when I have stories that almost but sometimes not quite come off the tip of my tongue, that I will really have that whole cackling "When I was young missy, we walked barefoot to school " routine down pat when I'm old. And the stories will even be true. I don't find it sad, I find it amusing. I like our wrapping paper box.

I did wear those crappy black plastic hightops to school for awhile with my big toe sticking out of them . . . . it rained one day . . . Adam Carter, or was it Nicholas Orscheln, teased me about them . . . and I finally told Mom it was time for new shoes, and she sighed that "I know" sigh . . . those guys were always teasing me in grade school . . . that's a true story, too.

Funny though, even that one doesn't really make me sad. Just kind of feels weird to realize that wasn't normal. My sister Tamara *HATED* being . . . poor. Poor-ish. Were we poor? Wearing shoes like that classifies as poor to me but I never felt poor. I just felt like we didn't have any money. Besides, it made me tough - not in that fake "I'm just putting up a front" way, but in a genuine "Hey I can survive anything that doesn't kill me" way.

And I'm rather fond of the wrapping paper box memory, after all. I'm even starting my own. :-)

okay, it's time for another confession. See, I sit around in the office all day, sit on the train to and from work, sit at home and watch TV . . . and so I finally gave in. Brenda (my housemate) has all these pilates videos . . . so I've started actually working out along with an exercise video.

Ugg. I feel kind of ashamed admitting that. ;-)

I mean it seems so cheesy. Good grief, I was a basketball player!!! None of the people likely reading this blog knew me back in the days when I could legitimately claim to be an athlete. It's sad - it's this whole part of my identity that I've completely lost. From fifth grade through high school, I played basketball competitively. Man, I miss how in shape I used to be. It felt so good . . . to feel your muscles stretched, exercised, the blood pounding through your body, tingling . . . awake, alive . . . that last part I think sums it up most. So ALIVE. I mean, when they say exercising gives you more energy, they really really mean it. And you feel so in control, so capable.

Actually I remember hearing that somewhere, a little snippet from . . . oh yeah, okay so it was from the book Sphere so who knows if the science was true . . . it was some pyschological study about something else. About people and how they react under stress. And one of the side effects they discovered was that people who were more athletic tended to do better under stress of all types, because they felt more in control, more confident of their own abilities, even when it wasn't a physical related task.

And now I watch these shows . . . Dark Angel, Alias, Buffy . . . some bad ass women that are as close to my heros as anything is and the thing is when I watch them I just groan about how much I'm *not* in shape. And I think about my "glory days" (at least as far as physical fitness goes) and I want it back, badly.

The gym membership for that brief amount of time last year helped. The ability to get outside and exercise helped. But now I'm heading into those dark winter months - no escaping to Groton to once in a blue moon at least get out bike riding.

Exercise videos always seemed kind of cheesy to me before. Like, that's not what real athletes did. And I was a "real athlete." *sigh*

But, I have to admit, I'm impressed . . . not with myself, I'm in pitiful physical shape, but with the video. It is a good work out . . . not so much aerobically but it's an ab video, it's not supposed to be all that aerobic. So until I can get around to getting certified to work as a basketball referee and start picking up extra cash that way, exercise videos it is. ;-)

Farmers and Tree Huggers Unite!
In 250 Words or Less
By Cecelia Sander
Yale Law School application

Missouri farmers tend to see environmentalists as the enemy. Yet despite undeniable differences, the two groups share some interests. Environmentalists basically want the earth to be healthy. Farmers depend on healthy soil and stable weather patterns for good crop yields. The two groups have different standards for a “healthy world” as the on-going conflict about pesticides demonstrates, but it is worth recognizing that on some fundamental level both groups have similar interests.
Whatever theoretical similarities the groups have, however, the practical issues on which they can agree are narrowly defined. Yet one of these, alternative energy sources, is an important topic in current American politics. Environmentalists want our economy to switch to “greener” energy sources. Missouri’s corn and soybean producers stand to gain economically from increased demand for ethanol.
Alone, environmentalists have trouble overcoming certain corporate business interests opposed to a radical new national energy policy. While farmers themselves are a numerically miniscule portion of the U.S. population, their intimate social and economic ties with small town America significantly enlarges the number of people who could be motivated to support an alternative energy resource plan if it promised to improve the lot of U.S. farmers. Even though ethanol would only be one of several alternatives in a comprehensive new national energy policy, both environmentalists and farmers stand to gain by prioritizing achieving a new energy policy over other fundamental differences in a temporary alliance.

I sometimes regret that I did or said something at a particular moment, but I can think of nothing right now in my life that I regret. Meaning it's one thing to say "oops, I shouldn't have said that mean thing, and I'm sorry" and another to beat yourself up about it for twenty years. I don't go for the self-scourging thing . . . a strength and a weakness, because it makes me confident and sort of a "full speed ahead" kind a gal generally speaking, but then again I'm sure I could be doing a better job fixing my faults if I had a little guilt on my conscience. But Guilt isn't really my thing.

I meant this as a deeper reflection than all that though. Because I was talking with a friend again, about how lately I've been sort of consumed if you will by my latest TV obsession, Buffy the Vampire Slayer series. And how I've tried to remind myself of late, "this is real - this is your life - don't waste it w/ your head in some imaginary realm - pay attention and live it".

There are two parts to not living with regret. The first, the obvious one that everybody knows, is not being afraid to *do* things, to take a few risks, to not put life on hold, but really live it, in this moment. The second, well maybe it's obvious as well, who knows. And that is, to not second guess about what could have been. Sure, it sounds like the definition of not regretting - but it's an active choice, and a shade different. We'll never be able to do everything in life. We take one path and turn down another, and that's all part of what life is. This bugs the hell out of some people . . . some people even let it chew at them until they are incapable of making any major decisions with their life because heaven forbid it might be the wrong one. But even the most adventerous life, or even the life that's the best blend of risk and sensibility possible, will have some "might have beens". The trick is being happy with where you are, happy with the places you've been - even some of the less fun places you've been, because those teach you something.

I guess it's the chicken and the egg. If you're happy with where you are, with where you've been, and believe in yourself and where you are going, well, it should be easy to say "hey, so what if I could have done something different? I like the way the choices I've made turned out." And I'm trying to say it works in reverse too . . . that even after you've screwed up, even if you know you could have done something better, you can still say "Hey, it's not ideal, but it's okay. I learned from it. I came out okay in the end. I'm going to come out okay in the end."

As I think about it, this is a point of continuing misunderstanding between my boyfriend and I. It's not the way he thinks, so when I try to put the best face on some problem he's having, some fear he has for the future . . . in short, when I play my favorite cheer up game, the "how to survive the worst case scenario", he often gets upset with me because it seems like I'm belittling his concerns. (Even though we've had this discussion several times, but our thought processes are just naturally different on this point.) That's not the purpose at all though . . . my purpose is to try to show him how to live life w/o regrets.

I wonder if this is a technique that works for everybody?

I suppose it's a developed by-Cecelia for-Cecelia piece of pyschological pep rally.

That's probably one of the first times I've admitted that my way of solving things may not work for everybody w/o secretly thinking "but it would dammit if you would just see things my way . . ." ;-)

"Nice to see she's grown as a person." (Angel, Ep. 1-1)

Last night I went out to dinner with a friend, and as we were walking to the subway stop afterwards we suddenly realized, "Hey, that's Bloomingdale's!" Being two girls, of course, there was clearly nothing to do but walk in.

Yeesh! What must it be like to be one of those people who shop at places like that on a regular basis? It had a very strange feel to it, like ritzy boutique meets department store. Probably it was the space thing. You can tell how expensive a clothes store is by how closely packed their product is. The more expensive the store, the more space in the aisles, the fewer items on a given rack. Department stores are generally pretty packed but Bloomingdale's had the same sort of spaciousness that I've experienced at, um, the Banana Republic in Providence Place is the only thing that comes to mind. Sorry not much of ritzy shopper. ;-) But they had on sale freaking diamond picture frames!!!! Yeesh!

Working in New York is definitely a unique experience. I just wish I made a little more money so I could taste more of the pleasures as it were, since *everything* in New York is expensive. Unless you're buying it from a vendor on the street who wheels it in every morning, of course . . .

Jason and I were having another one of our quasi-political quasi-philosophical arguments tonight, and I think I finally found a way to express one of my frustrations w/ people and their disparagement of the legal profession. Most particularly, self-proclaimed tech geeks who bitch about legal interpretation of IP law.

Okay, so let's get something straight: I'm not making an argument that IP law as it currently stands is in good shape. I think there is a lot of overhaul that needs to be done to our statutes, our Acts of Congress, our bureaucratic policies, to better reflect the more technologically complex world.

But let's put the blame where it (mostly) belongs. You wouldn't like it if I, a complete novice where computers are concerned, came up and started telling you how that line of code was wrong. That's your area of expertise. The judges area of expertise is to interpret the law *as it is*, not the way he or you thinks it *should be*. He may *hate* his ruling - but if that's the way the law stands, that's what he has to give . . . because that's what rule of law is all about. If the people who enforce the law could change it at their own whim, well, this would be China. I studied Chinese politics, and I don't want that. So first of all, isn't it pretty damn arrogant of all you people to sit there and think that with a layman's understanding of law you are better capable of interpreting it than a judge is? I didn't say you had to like it - I didn't say you had to think it was right. But despite what people think, law *in a courtroom* is not about what is right and wrong. It's just about what it is.

Law in the halls of Congress, however, or in any of the other bodies that are empowered to create law out of thin air, probaby should be about right and wrong a lot of the time. (And even the US Supreme Court doesn't get to create law whole new law. All it can do is give us a new interpretation . . . and that doesn't amount to the same thing. Despite all the jabs about "soft science" and what not, "room for interpretation" does not mean "room to decided what you think is wrong or right." It means "it's possible to make what appear to be logical, reasonable arguments in favor of both sides of this issue, and we need to hear those arguments to decide which one more logically follows from the law as it is written." But this is a separate point.)

How many people in this country vote? How many people in this country write or call their elected officials to say how they feel? How many people in this country actively participate in the democratic process? And sitting on the sidelines saying "Bush/Kerry sucks" doesn't count.

And yet, all those same people who don't vote, and don't tell their elected officials how they feel, are some of the same people who sit there and bitch about the way the law gets interpreted by the judges. It's the lazy way out. If they really cared they'd stop ragging the lawyers and judges and go on to the people who actually write the laws.

It's like the girls on my basketball team who used to say after every game we lost (which was a lot of them) that "it was the ref's fault". Stop blaming the damn refs and start looking where the action is.

New York is very foggy this morning. We're in our new offices, the 28th floor (out of 29) only a short distance from the U.N., so normally the view out the conference window is of the U.N., Trump Tower, and the East River. But this morning it is like living in a cloud. It's a little surreal . . . a curtain hiding us from reality.

The worst of the chaos associated with moving to new offices (two weeks after I started) has passed, and this week it seems like the job has settled down a bit. That's good for me - last week I was so stressed! But I'm beginning to feel like I'm getting the hang of this place. And getting the hang of New York - the subways, the crush of people, even the traffic! I drove into Manhattan this past weekend with Rob to see my cousin Eric. He lives waaaaay at the top of Manhattan's west side, so I figured on a Sunday traffic wouldn't be that bad and I might as well just drive in. I checked the metro channel - NYC and Hudson Valley traffic and weather, repeated on a two minute cycle, all day. It was fine. So in we went. Unfortunately, somehow we managed to miss the bridge that would have taken us across the river on the island, and wandered around the Bronx for a few minutes, driving right by Yankee Stadium. Actually not that bad, considering the horror stories people usually tell of the Yankee Stadium area. I guess it's all perspective.

That's the the thing. Somehow, after having lived in the not so great part of Providence and traveling to the projects to work with the Head Start kids, I'm not nearly as intimidated by poorer parts of cities as I used to be. Sure, you need to be careful, and they aren't places I frequent at night. But it's not like there's random guys running around going "I'm going to jump the first white girl I see." If you look scared, then you just piss people off, because then they start thinking "oh she's scared, she assumes I'm going to hurt her just because," yadda yadda. If you consider yourself to be among equals and peers, you're less likely to get hurt, because the attitude you project will be different.

Okay gotta start working.

Well, it's official: MacGyver has survived the test of time! It has entered into the realm of cultural references. The McDonald's commercial just had this woman trying to figure out to get her kids to leave the playground, and in the little ditty she thought "What would MacGyver do?"

You know I loved that show growing up, but I saw an episode of it last year, and was pretty disappointed. It was MacGyver against the red ants. Still, I think it was just a bad episode.

Speaking of which, I'm definitely enjoying this cable TV thing. It's a darn good thing that I like my living situation. I have cable TV in my room so I can lay in bed and watch TV. And even if I didn't my roommated and I have pretty similar tastes in movies and shows, apparently. And I'm definitely glad to get out of the rush of the city every evening. I don't think I could handle it if I was living there.

Morning in New York:

I've created quite a routine, catching the 8:19 train out of Port Chester, arriving at Grand Central about 9 . . . then I have to walk three blocks west and 5 blocks north to Rockefeller Plaza and my office. I purposely take a different route every morning just to see different sites; because Manhatten is mostly laid out in a grid (especially midtown like this) it's pretty easy to switch things up.

That morning walk pretty much is all the exposure I've gotten to New York so far, but even just glancing at the shops is kind of interesting. For instance, the awning with the big red sign "99cent dreams" - I haven't gotten close enough to that one yet to tell what it's all about. And then there's "Daffy's - Bargains for Millionaires" which I also haven't quite figured out. I mean perhaps it's meaning is obvious, but my sense of reality keeps rebeling against the obvious. I keep trying to make it more complicated, like maybe they're trying to say "You'll feel like a millionaire if you shop here but it's really cheap" or something. Taking that sign literally just seems so audacious that I can't quite believe it!

And then, for my excitement, there's a Bank of China just a couple blocks from my office building, and the "China Trust" building just down the way, and the people on the 22nd (or is it 23rd) floor all speak Chinese - Mandarin, at that, because I often end up in the elevator with a few of them, struggling to keep up with what they're saying, trying to understand. I really need to get back in practice with my Chinese!!

But it's time to start actually working now.

I'm in New York! With a fantastic view out of my window . . . unfortunately the office is moving in just a week or so and I probably won't have quite as cool of a view. Ah well, c'est la vie.

You know, whenever I emerge out of Grand Central station onto Manhatten's streets, I get this little thrill and a smile creeps onto my face. I didn't expect to feel this way, but I have to say I'm just really excited about working in New York! I mean, all I've done this week (my first week) is get off the train, walk the 15 minutes or so to my building, go to work, and book it back to Grand Central for my train. I haven't really started trying to enjoy all the cool stuff this city (purportedly) has to offer. But all the same, it's a thrill.

Okay that's all for now. Lunch break is almost up.

So I'm moving on September 1st. This happens to be a Wednesday. Everybody keeps asking me when I'm moving though, multiple times - as if I wasn't actually going to be moving on the first. It's sort of funny . . . the lease starts the first so that's when I'm moving. Mostly because I have plans the weekend prior to the first and the weekend after. But I like this comment from a friend:

"you a woman of the west like patti, got to get full use of that lease, if it starts on sept 1, u move on sept 1 :-P"

You know my Aunt Aggie lived in D.C. for about five years and has been in Massachussetts for about the last 15 . . . she's been "out east" for 20+ years now. My whole life practically. I never thought of her as "from Missouri" because I was 3 when she moved away, but since I'm living close to her, I've discovered two decades after having left the state, she still thinks of herself that way. Oh, not that she hasn't changed - she has and she knows it. But it's like in two decades, she still hasn't come to think of herself as an East Coaster. She still comments on things to this day that surprise her in the way they are different from home.

Yeeesh!!! What does that say for me?? I guess I better accept the fact that if I don't go home, I'm just going to be a stranger in a strange land forever.

Incidentally, why is the laundry lint always blue? I take that back. In college I used to do one load of lights, one of darks, and one of reds, because I had that much red crap. When I did the red load, it came out red. Every other time, light or dark, it comes out that steel blue color. Why?

So, I have to say, I really regret the fact that my home state made the news today as the first state to ratify a constitional amendment defining marraige as between a man and a woman. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about homosexuality. But regardless, I don't feel like it's the type of thing that merits a constitutional amendment. Somehow I feel like constitutions are supposed to be there to protect people's rights, not limit them.

Do we limit them specifically by defining them? Not really. The U.S. Constitution indicates that all rights responsibilites etc. not specifically allotted to the federal government are reserved for the states. Therefore lack of inclusion in the constitution does not mean a right does not exist. It's up to the states.

So my state decided to come down against it.

See this is where I run into difficulty. I can agree with the conservative side of the fence in saying that I wish we had a more moral country. But at the same time, I do NOT believe in legislating morality into existance. But isn't that what we do with almost all laws? Aren't laws in this country really based on Judeo-Christian morality, like it or not?

Somewhere in a poli sci class the idea was suggested to us young 'uns that "One man's rights end where another man's begin", and that was the basis for law. I really like that definition of law. Unfortunately, you have to stretch it a lot to make it cover much of what our government does, unless you beginning handing out "rights" like candy, and I have to say we need to be careful about declaring everything to be our "right."

*sigh* maybe law school will help me make more sense of all of this

I don't really have anything new to post but I figure i better write something if i'm going to remain a respectable blogger. ;-)

So, Christian and I pulled off a really kick ass activity today with the kiddies.  The activity was all about animal habitats, so we got all this green and blue fabric and made a 12 foot by 6 foot floor covering that looked like a stream and a pond with grass on either side of it, and then made this tree that was about 5 and 1/2 feet tall.   We used animal puppets to introduce the idea of animal habitats ("where does the squirrel live? Okay I'll put him there. Where does the frog live? Okay." etc.) and then we did the chant "We're going on a bear hunt" which is common enough to be familiar to some preschool teachers but not so common to be stale.  And the kids got to act it out, going around the tree, and over the stones, and "swimming" through the pond, and finding the bear at the end under this big cloth we set up.  It may not sound like much in that brief description, but the kids LOVED it.  And we spent so much time last week making that large scale habitat!!!! I sewed the floor covering and the tree covering by hand.  But it was magical, and they loved it.

It's a doubley good feeling: one knowing that something you were responsible for went well, and two knowing that it did so directly because of the effort that you put into it.

I got told today by one of my supervisors, in the nicest manner possible, that I talk like someone who graduated from Cornell.  She stated matter of factly, saying that that probably was one cause of a bit of difference between me and my coworkers.  Apparently as soon as I open my mouth they realize that I'm "different."  It reminded me of how cousin Amae (when she was still Amy) used to tell me that I used too many big words.  I never knew which words were the ones she thought were big. 
 
lol 
yowza  (in Tam's words, to be interpreted however you feel. ^_~  )
 
Hmm, a short post to offset the increasingly long ones.

Impressions, remembered things, changes and no changes . . .

The dust. I forgot how the dust covers everything. Not really forgot that it did, but forgot what it felt like . . . we finally turned on the AC yesterday. Central air - something rarely found in the Northeast but fairly standard here.

The heat . . . still I love the heat. To be able to walk out of the movie theater at 11:30 and it's still warm enough that my sleeveless shirt feels comfortable. And it is still staying fairly reasonable during the day . . . high 80s. Quite comfortable, especially out here in the country where there is so much grass around. So much pavement makes heat more unbearable.

And speaking of that, the evening noises! Oh how I've missed that! Not quiet the way the deck at Rob's apartment seems quiet. In fact the evening noises are quite loud: crickets and locusts and bullfrogs in deafening numbers, and the lightening bugs across the road in the cornfield. The lights from town light up the southern sky, but I climbed on my roof the other night to catch the last of a gorgeous sunset out across the pond, and in the deepening twilight a deer came to drink.

And the strange little things that say small town. Westlakes is the Ace Hardware store, Coach Light the Hallmark store, only they both sell more than just Ace hardware and Hallmark stuff, respectively. Coach Light, where every current or former Moberly girl must register for her bridal gifts no matter where she is now or will be having the weddings. Because any friends or relatives from Moberly that are invited to the wedding will expect to go to Coach Light to look for gifts. We went to register Brandy. They don't even have an electronic system. The woman walked around the store with us, writing down things on paper. Then they'll make up an index card for each item Brandy wants and set a table up for her in their Bridal Center with the index cards and samples of some of the gifts. It's fun to peruse the tables of the other brides, too, sometimes exclaiming "Wow, Kinder Vanderburg is getting married!" "Yes, July 24th."

And the movie theater is located right across from a cornfield. The drive in is open and I'd like to go this weekend; I enjoy drive-ins. Dodgeball is playing; maybe Em, Bruce, Wendy and I will grab some lawn chairs and homemade popcorn and head out there. We might skip the second feature: Day After Tomorrow. Though probably not.

And the smell of Mom's homemade bread, fresh out of the oven! For that matter, the taste of mom's homemade bread fresh out of the oven! *Groans with pleasure* wow how I've missed that!

I went through culture shock though when Em and I went to the grocery store today to shop for bridal shower stuff. I've been in the city so long - and Ithaca had city grocery stores, even if it was just a small town. I was shocked at how little the store offered. It had strawberries but not blueberries. About 4 or 5 different meats only in the deli: a ham, a balogne, a turkey or two, and I'm not sure what else.

For that matter Moberly is down to 2.5 grocery stores. Save More on the south side of town where Em and I shopped, because I wouldn't shop for groceries at the WalMart supercenter on the north side of town. And then there's an Aldi's - the 0.5 grocery store cuz it doesn't have a fresh produce section, among a lot of other things. I like Walmarts but I won't buy gas or groceries there if I can at all help it. I have this sneaking suspicion though that if I lived here I'd have to, one because we live north of town and it's a hassle to drive through town to Save More, and more importantly because Save More's selection was so shockingly poor. Emily assures me that Walmart has much greater selection.

That's the direction the town is growing in, actually: east along highway 24 to catch all the people traveling back and forth to WalMart. It's an institution. What would we do without it? Everybody in town practically goes there at least once a week. When Pizza Hut built it's new building it relocated past the Walmart. A whole new strip mall with a dollar store, a dress store, and a sporting goods store have gone in across the street from Walmart. Walmart knew what it was doing when it was building where it did though. It's just off Highway 63, just past the 63 and 24 junction. Everybody else is figuring out that's a great spot too. They have blue "at this exit . . " signs for that Moberly exit now, telling what fast food restaurants and hotels and gas stations you can find. It's the last Moberly exit heading north - there are three. They built an overpass on hwy 63 to well, pass over hwy 24, and it's quite a sight from the top of that bridge-hill to see everything that's grown up to catch the Hwy traffic. We were always a hwy town, but now . . .

Housing prices in Columbia are getting too high and the college kids are overrunning Columbia, and between that and the expansion of Hwy 63 to 4 lanes the Moberly's definitely headed toward more businesses and more population I think. Easy enough commuting distance to Columbia now.

But the highschool kids still hang out in the McDonald's parking lot at night. Walmart and the movie theater are still the cultural center of the town. They've put in a YMCA though so maybe Moberlians will start being in better shape. The place is changing alright, though. The things that stay the same are the small things, but this town is a town in motion. Strange.

Here I am, home again. :-) I was ridiculously giddy last night upon arriving in KC; I don't think I've been that hyper in years!!! I got stuck in Chicago with a delayed flight for awhile, but it was okay. I looked at the newspaper stand and saw a front page article about the Cubs and the "Sox", and after a moment realized that it was referring to the White Sox not the Red Sox. That's when the grin started - hurrah no longer in New Enland wheee!!!!!!!!! Unfortunately the down side of leaving New England is that Sam Adams is no longer available in such a great variety . . . but I had a Bud Light tonight like a good Missouri girl. Anheiser Bush being based in St. Louis and all. :-) Seriously, Bud dominates the beer scene around here.

Tonight I hosted a BBQ for my highschool crowd, since this was supposed to be our 5 year class reunion. The official reunion got canceled anyway, but that we had more fun tonight than we probably would have at the country club anyway.

It's nice, actually . . . my summer BBQ has become not quite a tradition but definitely a sort of established thing. I've done it 4 out of the past 5 summers. The first one was a big going away party for all of us right before freshmen year of college. I think last summer was the only summer I didn't do it, because most of us got together at Kara's wedding anyway. But this time around literally *everyone* came. I think the whole doing it in place of the 5 year reunion was part of the great attendance.

The male female ratio has balanced out quite nicely in the years since highschool. David and Josh used to be badly outnumbered but now that so many of my friends are married we had a great balance. It was nice too how much better people mixed . . . it didn't seem like anyone was left out in the cold too much except Dave's wife who sort of resisted attempts to engage in conversation by most people. We played washers, a new game for me, which is basically a portable version of horshoes. Some of the gals exchanged wedding stories. We played "the name game on crack" as Leo jokingly dubbed it - we had three frisbees and one football flying around all at the same time.

And of course we shot off some fireworks, although the fare was tamer than usual because my usual supplier has dropped off the face of the planet!! Actually it shouldn't be *too* hard to track him down, I just haven't had the time to do it yet. I'm a little surprised; Bruce knew I was coming into town and always makes it a point to claim a few prime slices of my time when I'm here. ;-) But the fireworks were fun anyway; instead of sitting back and enjoying the show Bruce usually puts on for my parties, almost everyone got involved in lighting the fireworks, which made up for the lack of spectacular bursts. We had a lot of bottle rockets and roman candles to set off. I held the roman candles in my hand for the first time while they went off; in fact at one point we had a line of five of us holding them while the balls shot out. We did have a few bigger flower bursts (artillary shells), but no fountains!! I'll have to get a couple for the fourth; the fountains are the most beautiful home-based fireworks I think.

It's funny how sometimes people can seem so old but then something happens, and you catch a glimpse inside them to see just how vulnerable they really can be. Like my housemate Zac. He's traveled the world, he has this life plan set in place, he's experimented and liberalized his mind, he has this air of confidence that could be somewhat arrogant if he wasn't such a chill guy. And yet tonight, he was so jumpy and nervous because he has a job interview tomorrow. A serious job too, an internship for his medical school stuff. That's understandable in and of itself - job interviews are nerve racking. But we all get through them. So I didn't think too much of it and said something about how interviews get easier the more of them you do. And then he asked me if I had any interview tips.

I didn't want to insult him, figuring he probably knew the standard interview prep drill, so I just relayed a bit of info I read/heard somewhere. Namely, that interviewers biggest complaint was that people came into the job knowing so little about the company or what they would be doing. So I told him to know a little bit about the organization and to have some good questions prepared to demonstrate some in-depth knowledge. Pretty standard fair, I thought. He said something about having asked most of those questions when he was on the phone with them - but something in his tone told me he could use some advice instead of me just backing off. So I said "Well, a pretty standard question for this type of job where they know it is a step on the way to something else for you, is to ask what skills you'll gain or experiences that you'll have that will be valuable to you in the future." He liked that one. Then he started talking again, expressing his concern about this interview and how much he wanted to nail it because he really wanted the job. Now I tend to interview pretty well, so I felt comfortable with this topic, and sensing his nervousness, figured I'd keep talking/asking questions of him.

As it turns out, he wasn't prepared at all for the interview tomorrow - he hadn't thought through answers to possible questions they might ask at all, or thought about what skills the job would require that he might have and how to explain that he had those skills, or about how to explain why he wanted the job (although he has sincere reasons beyond "I need a job".) Just throughout the whole conversation I was a little taken aback . . . he really has been this sauve confident guy up to know, unwittingly making me feel a bit sheltered and naive, simply because I haven't gone the places he has, or had the range of . . . "experimental" experiences he has. He's a good guy, so I never resented it or anything - I just was careful about what I said in order to try not to display my own innocence, as it were. So it was a little surprising tonight to talk to him and find this vulnerability in him. He graduated last month from college . . . I guess I just thought that by this age, with college and what not, he would have gotten some interview skills tips somewhere along the way.

Interestingly, when I had dinner the other night with him and his two friends who also went to Brown for undergrad and are starting Brown for medical school in the fall, I remember being struck then at how young they seemed in certain ways. They had lived on campus all the way through college, so now they were just starting to have the whole "living in your first apartment" experience. They talked about their sexual exploits in this real experienced way, but when taken as a whole with all the other things they were talking about, well, it was a bit like a twelve year old telling you in detail about his last drag car race. A little incongruent.

I don't know that it necessarily makes me feel good or bad, particularly. Mostly I think it just made me recognize that I do have this wealth of real-world experiences to draw on that apparently not everybody has. And I think actually that a lot of that real-world knowledge has solidified in the past year since coming out of school. It's hard to explain, but it's like right after graduation this whole real world seemed like a big mystery to me - how does it work and why the hell do I want to be in it?

But now . . . I don't have it all figured out, but I know I can do it. I've seen a little bit of how it works, and I'm comfortable with what I don't know yet because I think when I'm faced with something I'll know how to figure it out. And it's more than just all the facts they stuff you with in college. Somehow being out on your own, no safety net from the parents, and making it all work . . . you figure it out.

Gah. I can't explain it. And since most of my friends either still live with their parents or are going to school, you probably can't understand. So I give up. :-P

So I'm definitely intoxicated, non doubt about that. After four partial glasses of wine (how much liquid classifies as 1 glass, for instance? I mean you never fill a glass of wine more than half way full, and often not even that full) and the Kalua in the desert there's no chance I'm not, and since there is definitely concentration required in not weaving when I walk, I think that qualifies. This is I think the second time I've reached this level of intoxication - the other time being my 21rst birthday - and I have to say all in all I'm a little disappointed/proud of myself. I can remember the entire conversation at dinner, (although possibly not in as minute of detail as I can often relate) and I know at what point I started getting slightly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation (although I don't remember quite how we got there, since conversations do tend to ramble and I *have* been drinking.) And I would never in a million years try to drive in this condition. So all in all I think I'm drunk.

But really, is this all there is to it? I mean, after all the stories about what people do when they're drunk, it really seems like I ought to be more intoxicated than this. I'm still exercising control over what I'm saying. I know this because there are definitely points in the conversation where I thought "Now would be a really bad time to say such-and-such" and didn't say it. Perhaps that is a reflection of my over all improvement this year in the things that pass out of my mouth. (Which is a bit sad in one way, because it really was my only humor value, the things that just flew out of my mouth sometimes w/o thinking, and certainly it still happens, but trust me I'm more aware than I used to be about not doing it.)

And I was still able to dry the dishes in the dishwasher and put them away w/o breaking anything or anything, although I did stumble a bit when I turned too quickly. I haven't gone wild dancing on table tops or anything. Really, seriously, for as drunk as I am, why haven't more of my inhibitions flown out the window?

Not that I'm lamenting this. I suppose it's kind of a good thing. On my 21rst birthday I determined somewhere in the middle of my 3rd white russian that I was drunk. My sister didn't realize it though and as we were talking about it later she said I really didn't seem drunk because I wasn't acting any differently. I said "well, considering the way I was feeling physically i think I was drunk."

But at what point are you considered "drunk"?

Alright, I know this topic is distasteful to virtually everyone reading this blog, so I'll stop now.

So I'm beginning to get the hang of this socializing thing again. It's amazing how rusty one can get after not doing it for months at a time. And amazing how easy it is to pick back up, in some ways.

I've been organizing a big reunion with my friends from home for a couple weeks from now. I'll be back in Missouri, and we're supposed to have been having this highschool reunion only nobody is going to go. This is kind of my role, organizing things . . . only I haven't been doing it!! But I got all these emails today of people saying "yup we're coming" and that made me feel incredibly good. I'm hosting, see, so "yes" responses are a nice feeling.

And then when I got home from work Anne was in the kitchen putting things away. So I decided to be sociable and put a few of my own kitchen things away while I chatted. And we got a nice laugh out of the *THREE* bottles of syrup that I have . . . I just kept forgetting to check before I went to the grocery store!! And I joked that I needed to have a pancake party to get rid of the syrup. And it was funny, cuz after I said it I was sitting there thinking "You know, that would be a great idea. I should do that." And then Anne said "You know, we should do that."

So there you have it. Unfortunately I don't know too many people in Providence, so it will take a bit of thinking - who can I invite to come over for pancakes?

And right before I started getting ready for bed, I had another wild idea. Rob's coming up tomorrow. Why not ask Anne if she and her guy wanted to do something tomorrow night?

I think I was a bit awkward on the "hey let's hang out" thing. Yikes, you'd think I was asking for a first date or something. ;-) That's how out of practice I am at being social!!! Anyway I left it kind of open to give her an out. Said we could figure it out tomorrow. Bit odd. Definitely rusty.

But my spirits are picking up. Because you know, it's not me. My work environment is crappy, my fellow AmeriCorps members and I don't particularly mesh, but I should realize that all the negative energy going on there is not directed at me. It's almost the end of our service year, and almsot no-one wants to be there. The negative energy is unbelievable!!!!

So screw it. Forget it if I don't mesh with my coworkers.

It's like I forgot for about 8 months who I really was, and I'm suddenly waking up to it again. Feels good.

You know, if there was some tactful way to tell my old roommate "Christy, I am SOOO glad you decided to move out and make me find a new place because I am infinitely happier now" I would, because I am genuinely thrilled with my new apartment.

I live on the third floor of a spacious, relatively well kept house. There are supposedly 5 housemates but so far only 2 or 3 of us have ever been here at the same time. And I like my housemates a lot. Billy is just amusing, even though the first thing he did when my friend Christian walked up to the house was ask if he smoked weed.;-) But so far his partying has all been outside the house, and he's like overly anxious to be all respectful and everything of all us Grad students/working people who have real responsibility. As opposed to him - he has an internship for the summer with a beer company going to bars and taking pictures of people drinking. Zac is a well-traveled Brown med student orignially from Australia and then from Madison Wisconsin.

And then the newest housemate, Anne, arrived yesterday evening. My first chance to talk with her was this evening. First off, I love the way she spells her name. Then as I poked my head in to say hello we just kind of naturaly fell into conversation. I thought "Wow, this girl is cool. i can totally be myself around her." She went to NYU, and she even dates a computer geek and everything. ;-) And then, part way into the conversation, guess what I discover? She's from Arkansas. DUDE!!! No wonder I get along with her!!!

Er, well, um, actually there is the minor little detail that no proper true blood Missourian would claim *ANY* association with Arkansas beyond redneck jokes. To put it in perspective, Missourians joke about Arkansas the way New Yorkers joke about New Jersey. But then again, Anne did say that she really didn't want to go back to Arkansas, but she's "All about Iowa". :-D

Yeah, she's my kind of girl.

(Never mind that Missourians make fun of Iowa too - "Idiots Out Wandering Around" we say when seeing an IOWA license plate.)

But as I think i have connected wirelessly to somebody else's network that lives in a surrounding house, I am going to post this before I get kicked off.

I just wanted to let you know that file cabinets are a beautiful thing. I got a two drawer file cabinet free from a coworker who upgraded to four cabinets - complete with a bunch of hanging folders. I've had it for a couple weeks but hadn't started using it until today as I was packing. All this random paperwork crap that I need to keep that's existed in stacks and piles prior to this.

And suddenly BAM! into the file cabinet with the instructions for putting together my desk! Into the cabinet my old bank statements! Into the cabinet all the random tourist brochures for New England spots that I've picked up!!!

A file cabinet is a wonderful way for a pack rat to feel organized. :-D

So much packing to do . . . but I have a headache so I think I'll blog instead. :-D

I've been feeling like I should post something short and upbeat, as I've been rather stressed at length recently.

I finished my independent project today. It was also the annual awards banquet for the Head Start parent volunteers - they rent out Rhodes over Pawtuxet, huge hall, for 1000 people all affiliated with Head Start. Teachers and the parents who volunteer. The PCM AmeriCorps team got tickets. Loud music. All these teachers letting their hair down and dressing up. I gave my coworkers a bit of a surprise by showing up in a skirt. Not just any skirt, but actually, the whole outfit was rather sexy, as Nancy said. Black and red, clingy in just the right places for my figure w/o emphasizing the wrong places. Highly impractical strappy black velvet shoes. Make-up and curled hair. The whole nine yards.

I generally wear jeans, no make up, and bandanas or ponytails at work, so it caught them off gaurd. I rather enjoy turning people's opinions of me topsy turvy. :-) Of course, it might be nice if people really made the effort to dig in deep and get to know me . . . but then you really have to know me for awhile to see all my various sides. That's true of pretty much everybody, I guess.

Okay I'm done.

Well, so I think I've found housing, and the situation should be pretty good. Nicer neighborhood (which makes Rob unbelievably happier) and actually a cheaper price, and just as nice of a house and room - perhaps even slightly better. And I'll be living with 4 other people that I don't work with.

When I left college I thought it would be nice to live with at most just one other person; I thought it would be good to have a place of my own and so on. I've changed my mind. I'm looking forward to 4 new people that I can talk with and get to know; chances are there's got to be at least one of them that I can hold a conversation with. Living with just 1 other person that you don't really know is a particularly bad gamble - if you don't hit it off, then there's nobody else to buffer you guys, and nobody else to distract you, etc. And just fyi, living with somebody you work with is a particularly bad idea. If anything goes wrong, there's no escaping it . . . and if both people aren't professional enough to leave personal difficulties out of work, well, then you're really in for it.

But that's my spiel. Almost graduation time for those lovely folks still at Cornell; hmm that means I've been out in the real world for about a year. I'd like to say it wasn't so bad, but I'd be lying. It's been rough. Still I think that it's a different experience for everyone, and I can see choices that I could have made differently that would have made it easier.

In any case, I'm very much looking forward to being in NYC next year. I'll be close to several people who are already living in the greater NYC area, and a shorter traveling distance to Philly, and Baltimore, and wherever else people are. And more money - I just have to keep remembering that.

I've also learned my lesson on housing . . . if there's one budgeting tip that I picked up this year, it's that housing should never be greater than 1/3 of your income. Man did I ever learn the value of that bit of wisdom!!

Just get through the summer . . .I just have to get through the summer. And really once May is over, the worst will be passed by. By the end of the first week of June I'll be done with the independent project that's making me work extra hours, I'll be in my new apartment. So I can then turn my attention to bigger concerns - like figuring out where I want to apply to law school and where I'm going to live for my NYC job. Yikes!

Transitions are tough. There's no pulling the punches on that one . . . it's an adjustment, life after college. But even if things aren't so great for me, I can look at Rob and see how things could go pretty well. Life seems to be looking up for him, overall, I think . . . summer is always nice because we can get outside, and he's making friends to hang out with . . . something I haven't managed yet. :-( And time to explore hobbies, and the money to pursue them. That's definitely a positive picture of what life after college could be like. Most of the stress in his life comes from me, probably. ;-)

I've been floundering, but I've managed to keep my head above water, just barely, and I think that's important. I feel like I'm catching a glimmer of the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm learning how to swim by being thrown in the water, to go back to the previous analogy. But now that I'm starting to figure out how to swim, I can start to do more than just manage not to drown. I can start heading out into open water and *going* somewhere. And it's always a good feeling to feel like I'm moving again, instead of just flailing. Moving forward.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

*sigh* I'm alternating between resignation and frustration. I had a wonderful weekend in Ithaca; I came back feeling refreshed, ready to take on life again, even feeling like attempting to be social with my fellow AmeriCorps members. And then tonight my roommate tells me she's moving out at the end of the month, leaving me in a bit of a lurch.

Sure, there's a lot of sublets going to be opening up; it shouldn't be too difficult to find another place to live. But I like my apartment, and I'm going to have to be moving again at the end of the summer. I wasn't prepared for this.

And I suppose everyone is going to tell me to be flexible. It's funny what people's definitions of flexible is. Necessity dictates that I be flexible. I will find another apartment, and you know, I might even end up better off because it's possible that I could find some place just as nice for cheaper through roommates.com or whatever. I can definitely use a little money saving. And sure, it's not much different than what a fair number of people do in college. And we're supposed to roll with the punches and what not.

Well, I'll find another place, I'm sure - I'm not going to live in a box. And I'll find somewhere in CT. And I'm not going to dwell on this, once I've found a place. Had my roommate given me some notice that she was considering moving out, instead of just dropping it on me so that I basically have to tell my landlord tonight if I'm going to move out as well (because of the 30 day notice clause), it would still be a hassle but I'd say all's fair, I'll deal. But why the hell shouldn't I be a little bit upset right when I find out?

For all that these "south" personalities are supposed to be soooo understanding, I find their understanding symphatheticness to be limited to their own kind. I feel this way about Christy and about Nancy at work - both people considered to be extremely sympathetic, and caring about other peoples feelings, and what not. And they are, as a general rule - but they don't understand me, or the way I think, and will look at me with this "What are you talking about?" look sometimes.

I know I shouldn't stress as much about this as I am. I'll find more housing, it really shouldn't be a problem. This is the way I react though in such situations - I take the news calmly at first, and then in about 1/2 an hours time I start freaking out somewhat out of proportion, but the freak out period usually passes (only after I've vented to a # of people who are like "woah, chill") and then I settle down to doing what needs to be done.

Grant me my freak out period, okay? It bugs me that people think I should skip it. Trying to talk myself out of it doesn't help - it just prolongs the matter. So it's not like I'm buying anything if I tried.