New Year's Resolutions

I realize that many people abhor the idea of New Year's resolutions, and even fewer people keep them.  Regardless of the "keeping" element, I do think it's good to take time--whether it's once a year or each month--to evaluate how much you like your life, the direction it's going, and the choices you make.  For me, I try to take stock each season because it just feels right.  As the weather changes, I should take time to look at what I'm doing and determine if it's working for me.  So in honor of 2009 (the year I finish school FOREVER!) and the official coming of winter, here are my new goals:

1. Turn off the TV more often.  I did a pretty good job at this when I first got home from Chile, but I've been bad lately.  I am one of the few people who actually study better with noise than without--something about the action of tuning-out background noise helps me concentrate on the task as hand better.  However, I also have a habit of turning on the TV after 9 p.m., largely because Lucy-dog is comatose at that hour and the quietness unnerves me.  But also, there is nothing but bad reality shows on after 9, so I'm not really sure why I have the TV on in the first place.  Goal:  listen to iTunes instead of TV.  Let TV be a treat, and only watch when something I really want to see is on.  Exceptions for football and basketball games!

2. On the flip side, I want to spend less time on my computer.  While I love reading friends' blogs, doing online crossword puzzles, and reading the Times/Post/Idealist, I do NOT need to waste time checking J.Crew's sale page each day or on Facebook.  In fact, I am just flat-out irritated with the FB (and will reserve that issue for another post).  Once I leave school, there is really no reason to be on my computer unless I'm researching my Race & the Law paper or checking my e-mail once or twice.  That leaves extra time for 3, 4, & 5!

3. Choose outfits at night.  I am AWFUL at wasting time in the morning by throwing on one outfit, taking it off, and trying another.  On any given morning, there will be 2-4 cycles of outfits...and I usually return to the first option.  When I lived at home, this drove my mother crazy, and when I had a boyfriend (pick any one) they hated it too.  I am perpetually late and it often has to do with the outfit picking routine.  Goal:  Take 20 minutes at night to choose the next day's attire.  Try it on at night to make sure I like it.  I don't mind staying up 20 minutes later a night to do this, but I cannot keep being 20 minutes late in the morning.

4. Walk Lucy-dog EVERY DAY, no exceptions.  Ok, pouring rain is an exception, but she hates rain anyway.  Ms. Lucy does get walked about 5 times a week, but sometimes I leave at 8:30 a.m. and get home at 5 p.m. and I'm just too.darn.tired to muster up the energy to deal with squirrel stalking and muddy paws.  But on those days I do rally for the w-a-l-k, I usually end up feeling more energized afterwards, even if it's just for 20 minutes around the neighborhood.  And a walked Lucy-dog is a sweet, cuddly, baby.  A non-walked Lucy digs in trash cans and eats old Kleenex.  Point taken. 

5. Make a new dish each week.  First things to try:  CIA's honey-wheat bread, Ina's citrus roasted chicken, and Christopher's curry pork burgers.  

6. Ride my bike to school instead of driving.  I'm actually really excited about this one.  My sweet new bike, a birthday gift from S., arrived this week, and I can't wait to put my milk crate on the back, basket on the front, and start adventuring around Louisville.  I get so, so, so tired of dealing with traffic on the way to school, and I figure the ride will only take my an extra 5 minutes each way (and remember, I'm going to save more time in the morning because I won't be choosing 18 new outfits!).  I've wanted a nice bike for a long time, and I am ridiculously excited about my new wheels!  I've already named her (obviously) Jenny.  :)

7. Have a good rough draft of my Race & the Law paper by spring break.  This is non-negotiable.  I know this class is going to be a bear, and I really admire and respect the professor (and may or may not have a hopeless crush on him...) and want to turn in a piece of work I'm proud of.  I am a life-long procrastinator and doer-at-the-last-minute, so this will be a challenge but very worth it. 

8. This kills me to write, but I'm really trying:  Be the best Maid of Honor possible.  My very best friend is getting married in March, and it's a big ol' Southern affair.  I am NOT a wedding person and I generally just show up for the open bar and to check out what everyone else is wearing....but this is really, really important to her, and so I will plan showers and bachelorettes, I will wear a dress that matches my shoes (kill.me.now) & 7 other women, and I will do my best to make sure it's the happiest day possible.  Luckily, she's an amazing girl and non-bridezilla-esque, so this is more about me getting over my wedding disgust (5 years of working at a bridal shop will do that do you...) because she deserves to have everything she wants out of a wedding. 

9. Go to the gym (or the pool) 4 times a week.  Self-explanatory. 

10. This is the biggie:  Work on my self-confidence.  My lack of self-love is 26 years in the making, but I'm determined to see myself in a better light.  I will never be the tiniest girl in the room, but I'm going to celebrate my curves.  I have good hair & a decent shoe collection.  I'm nice (ahem, after 10 a.m.  I'll just never be a morning person...).  When someone compliments me, I'm going to say, "Why thank you!" instead of, "Whatever."  For some reason--perhaps my Midwestern upbringing--I've always associated self-confidence with arrogance, but I know that there's a dividing line.  Feeling good about myself isn't arrogant, it's enlightening.  

11.  And the second biggie:  Find a job I love.   I will have a law-related job before the bar exam.  I will.  I WILL.  I've got a killer cover letter & resume (my first step in self-confidence building was selling myself on paper) and I'm working on my interview skills (less giggling, more direct eye contact, etc.).  I will have a job before July 28th.  I just WILL.

So there it is--my over-zealousness in print form.  The good news is that I'm so close to accomplishing most of these goals already.  I tried very hard to not set realistic expectations for myself, and I believe I've set achievable standards.  Here's to new beginnings & happier times!

Happy 2009!  

Rejections & Realizations

I've said it 10,000 times:  Break ups suck.  There's no way to sugar coat it, folks.  The only thing worse than the break-up is getting back out into the dating world afterwards.  I successfully managed to put off this great job until this week.  

Let me just say, it was not good. 

Against all my better judgment, I agree to let my 36-and-single cousin fix me up with one of his 36-and-single frat brothers.  Who just happens to be a doctor.  A plastic surgeon, actually.  A plastic surgeon doctor who is so busy that e-mail was the "best" way to reliably get in touch with him.  Does anyone else see the flashing red lights???  Yeah, me too.

In short, I got rejected...in an e-mail.  Yup.  The jerk didn't even wait to meet me before blowing me off.  I'm not really bitter...yet.  More like irritated with a small side of bitter.  So first, here are my tips for the bum:  First, please take the time to get to know before you decide that you can't deal with my mild neuroses, untamable hair, and penchant for shoes I can't afford.  Don't give me the brush off just because you're 10 years older than me and my cousin set us up (which could be part of the issue).  Don't assume that just because I've never been to your office, I don't have boobs--I do!  Don't ignore be because I spent 20 minutes crafting the perfectly sweet-but-short introductory e-mail, which I sent to two friends for suggestions before ever sending to you.  And most of all, don't be a pretentious asshole and tell me you might have a "moment" to meet with me--have the balls to say "No thanks, I'd rather not," or be decent enough to lie and say that you'd love to meet me for a drink next week and just judge me after you meet me.  

No matter how many times my friends tell me that it's his loss, he's a freak/loser/jerk, I still can't help but feel inadequate.  Why doesn't he want to meet me?  Did he see a picture of me and decide I was a no-go?  Is the 10 year age gap too much for him?  Does he think I'm still a giggling sorority girl? Maybe it's my nose.  I hate my nose.  He's a plastic surgeon, so I bet he hated my nose too.  What if he just hates lawyers (entirely plausible)?

And then I realized:  A man I don't even know has made me question my self-worth.  More importantly, I realized that this isn't about him, it's about ME.  About my insecurity with dating again.  My unwillingness to "get back out there."  My refusal to meet my potential future husband at a bar.  After being rejected by a guy I spent almost 5 years with, I am still not ready for rejection by someone I don't even know.  Maybe I've been single for almost an entire year now, but the wounds are still pretty fresh.  Being rejected by a stranger stinks, but the worst part is that it brings back memories of being pushed away by someone you gave your heart to.

So maybe I'm just not ready to get back out there, and that is totally fine.  I've spent 5 years focusing on someone else, so maybe it's time to date myself.  To give myself the energy, attention, and effort I've been spending on men.  In 2009, I'll take care of myself.  I'll exfoliate more and stress less (umm, let's ignore the bar exam for the moment).  I'm going to spend the weekends doing things I like instead of wondering why I don't have a date.  I'm going to learn to sew and surf (yes, I'm going to surf!).  I'm going to make myself happy.  I'm going to fall in love with me.

I deleted Mr. Dr.'s e-mail this morning without any real hard feelings.  Without him, I might not have focused on my next relationship.

Christmas Meme

Here's yet another meme instead of something substantive, because 1) I'm still being subjected to silly final exams, and 2) I've got a death-cold that has me sneezing and coughing so much that even my dog is annoyed.  Here's to a happier holiday & the upcoming break from madness!

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?  PAPER!  Damn the trees, I want to rip open the paper and tear at ribbons!

2. Real tree or artificial?  I would love to have a real tree, but seeing that I'm allergic to everything on the planet, real trees just give me headaches and hives.  I've got 4 artificial trees & I'm not done yet!

3. When do you put up the tree?  Well that's a funny story...seeing as that my law school likes to start final exams the Monday after Thanksgiving, putting up a tree the day after Thanksgiving isn't really an option.  I've started putting mine up somewhere between my birthday and turkey day, but I'm hoping to go back to the ol' day-after routine next year. 

4. When do you take the tree down?  The week after new year's.  Any longer and it's just too depressing.  Plus, I like to start the new year with a clean and uncluttered home.

5. Do you like eggnog?  NO.

6. Favorite gift received as a child?  If 22 counts as a child, my Kitchen Aid mixer.  Hands down BEST.GIFT.EVER.  My parents did it perfectly:  it was completely unexpected & something I had wanted for at least a decade.  I squealed like a little girl!

7. Hardest person to buy for?  My brother-in-law.

8. Easiest person to buy for?  My dog. 

9. Do you have a nativity scene?  No.  I'm holding out until I inherit my mom's wooden set that rotates & plays Silent Night.  I used to watch it for hours as a kid.

10. Mail or e-mail Christmas cards?  Seriously, people e-mail holiday cards?  TACKY.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?  Anything from my Aunt Elizabeth.  I'm pretty sure I got a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt when I was 20.

12.  Favorite Christmas movie?  Tie between The Christmas Carol with George C. Scott (a Christmas Eve tradition at our house) and Prancer. 

13.  When do you start shopping for Christmas?  Post-finals.  I like the mad-dash.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?  I'm pretty sure all my girlfriends and I did that in elementary school...

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?  Umm.....I have to choose one???  Ribbon candy, chex mix, honey ham, any type of cookie, WINE,  meatballs....we have quite a spread on Christmas day!

16. Lights on the tree?  Surprisingly, I have all white lights because they match my ornament themes, but as a child I preferred colored lights.  I love them if they are done in a retro way. 

17. Favorite Christmas song?  "O Holy Night."  Anita Bryant has a great version, but nothing beats a guy at my parent's church who sings it a cappella at midnight.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?  HOME.  Every once in awhile, I am jealous of people who take ski vacations or go to the beach, but then I'm surrounded by my goofy family and I realize that NO ONE has a better holiday than we do.  

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeers?  Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blizen, Rudolph.  

20. Angel on the tree top or star?  I prefer a Star.  My grandma had one with lights and I thought she was rich. 

21. Open presents on Christmas Eve or morning?  Neither.  Our family opens them after lunch!

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?  Do I really need to answer this?  FINALS. They have ruined both my Thanksgiving and my Christmas for 3 years now.  

23.  Favorite ornament theme or color?  I love retro trees with old-school glass and metal ornaments and uber-bright colors.  My "fun" tree has lime green, bright red, turquiose blue, and silver.  I try not to play favorites, but I love that tree 10x more than my "classy" living room tree. 

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner?  As previously mentioned, my mom makes a great buffet of finger foods for Christmas lunch--soup, meatballs, ham and turkey sandwiches on silver dollar buns, and tons of cookies.  For supper, we eat the leftovers.  It's casual and perfect.

25. What do you want for Christmas this year?  For fluff, I need some work-appropriate clothes and I'd love the Southern Living cookbook.  For serious, I want my grandma back.

Happy Holidays!!!!  

Perspective

My dear friend Lu is truly super woman.   She is a law student, a fiancée, and a mother to the most adorable almost-one-year-old you'll ever see.  Not to mention the 10,000 extracurriculars she's involved in, and her adorable apartment, andandand.  She is every woman.  However, even Lu has those days where everything seems like a struggle just to keep treading the water.  She often tells me that the TLC show John & Kate Plus 8 is her "perspective show" for those days when she's at her wits end and feels terrible.  I could be worse, she could have 8 children under 6, right?!?!

Yesterday, I had a perspective day.  I experienced a series of events which reminded me that I am the luckiest person in the world, simply because I have a heated apartment, friends I can talk to about anything, and I will never truly go hungry.  No, this is not one of those self-righteous rants about being grateful for what you have (although you should...).  It's merely a reflection on my day, and perhaps even a call to take a moment for gratitude & reflection on how truly, deeply lucky we blog-readers/writers are.  

I woke up yesterday morning in a not-so-pleasant mood, largely because it was cold, I didn't have time to make coffee (SIN!), I couldn't get the pilot light on my oven lit, and I'm coming down with a cold.  While I spent 20 minutes fiddling with the pilot, I started obsessing about the impending finals, the fact that my dog hates me, missing my family, etc.  By 10 a.m., I had worked myself into a tizzy of worry & stress.  By 2 p.m., my entire viewpoint changed. 

Yesterday at work, we mediated the most heartbreaking case ever.  EVER.  Our client is a very young woman who has spent most of her life living in a refugee camp, so badly beaten that she still bears physical scars, and her parents are still overseas in the camp.  She is here in a foreign city, completely alone, trying to raise her children on virtually no income, and going through a horrible divorce.  There are so many more awful details to this case that I can't discuss, but believe you me, it was devastating.  Today was the only day I've ever cried at work.  In front of my boss.  And she was crying, too.

Lesson learned:  Whenever I miss my family, I need to stop and realize they are an hour away.  One hour.  That's it.  I can call them, I can drive to see them, and I do it often (in fact, I met my mom for dinner last night).  In fact, I have a home to go to, and it's lovely and warm and full of very happy memories.  I don't know what it's like to be forced out of the country I've always known & shoved in a crowded camp.  I don't know what it's like to never be able to go back home.  I have never known hunger and my parents won't ever let me, even if I'm too old to be turning to them.  If I need help, my parents are able to feed me, clothe me, and make sure my heat stays turned on and my dog has food.  They are always, ALWAYS there for me & support me with very few questions asked.  I don't even know the true meaning of homesick or alone.  

At dinner, my mom and I had a conversation about happy topics:  domestic violence and poverty.  We discussed the sad, hard truth that several of my clients go back to their abusive spouses because of financial reasons.  Without delving into the discussion at length, let me just say that we talked at length about the topic, and by the end of dinner, I was just whispering "thank you, God, thank you God..."

Lesson learned:  I am beyond lucky because I've never had to make a choice between someone who might hurt me and being warm and/or having a full belly.  Enough said.

After dinner with mama, I was doing my nightly routine of FBing/stalking, when a good friend from high school sent me a message--her grandmother has terminal cancer and they are stopping treatment.  My friend is dearly close to her grandmother, who is a wondering, spunky woman that doesn't quite realize that she's 85.  Naturally, my friend is floored.  I hardy knew what to say, because how do you tell someone it's going to be ok when you know that (at least for awhile) it's not?

Lesson learned:  I may still be mourning my own perfect, irreplaceable grandmother, but at least I'm through the worst.  She's not suffering at all now.  She passed so peaceably, we couldn't have wished more for her.  The initial "noooooooooooo" has worn off, and I'm (slowly) moving through my grief.  I'm still sad every single day, but I'm beginning to think of her and laugh more and cry less.  I have my mom and my sister to share stories with.  Most of all, I had her for 93 wonderful years.  She was the perfect, and I do mean perfect, grandmother.  I was lucky to have her.

So that's my perspective-check.  I've got it pretty damn good, folks.  When I think of all the things I DO have, it makes it much easier to forget about the things I "don't" have (those new J.Crew patent pumps, the yellow sweater from Anthropologie, etc.).  They just seem incredibly unimportant.  

What gives you perspective? 

Rebooted

I have my computer back!  

That's right, my dear little dud of a MacBook decided to join the illustrious legion of computers that crash 2 weeks before final exams.  How nice of it.

Alas, the good folks at the Mac store (thank you Will!!!!) brought my little machine back to life, complete with a new hard drive, keyboard, casing, and operating system.  It's virtually new without being new.  It's like if your best friend had massive plastic surgery:  you know it's the same person, but it looks 100% different.  

So I'm back, but I won't be around much.  Finals time is upon us, and I have to cram 3 months of Federal income tax laws into my brain so I can regurgitate them in a 3 hour span.  Fun times!

Oh Joy, A Meme!

But seriously, you know I love this stuff.  :)  It's insta-blog fodder!  Thanks, Kendall!

1. Were you named after anyone?  Unfortunately not.  My name was going to be Philip, but I turned out to be a girl (oops!).  Then it was Julia, but my mom couldn't think of a middle name, so I became Kathryn Marie.  I hated it as a child, but love it now.  Plain but classy, like me.

2. Do you still have your tonsils?  Nope.  I don't remember anything about it, just that I don't have to clean them out with a bobby pin like my mom (insert ewwww here).

3. Would you bungee jump?  Hmm.  Something about this really bothers me.  It's not the falling, it's the snapping back up part.  But I really, really, REALLY want to skydive!

4. What is your favorite cereal? I have to pick just one?  Cereal is my fall-back meal when I'm too tired to cook.  Warm oatmeal made with milk, cinnamon, and raisins is pretty hard to beat!

5. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?  Never.  The only shoes I even own with laces are my pink Roos.

6. What is your favorite ice cream?  Toss up between cinnamon and peppermint.

7. What is the first thing you notice about people?  Usually the way they speak.  Are they sweet, rude, arrogant, bubbly, etc.  Second?  Shoes.  I'm always staring at the shoes.

8. What is your least favorite thing about yourself?  Loaded question!  Physically, my nose.  Otherwise, my moodiness.  My Scorpio catches up with me a lot.  I should probably work on my self-esteem, too, but I've been doing that for almost 26 years now to no avail.

9. What was the last thing you ate?  Fruity Cheerios (delicious!) & a spoonful of peanut butter.  :)

10.  What are you listening too right now? A little mix of Etta James, Lauryn Hill, Nina Simone, & Joss Stone.  Retro-soul.

11. Last movie you watched?  Love in the Time of Cholera.  I know, never watch the movie version of a book, but I just had to see how it was done.  Cinematography & music were beautiful, screenplay adaption was AWFUL.  But Javier Bardem made it well worth the $4.99 rental fee!  Every time he would talk about his broken heart, I would tell him (and my empty apartment) "It's ok, Javi, I'll comfort you..."  

12. What did you dream about last night?  That is for me to know!  Some things are best kept to oneself. :)   It's finals time, so I'm sure my recurring nightmare will start weaseling back into my life--you  know, the classic "I totally forgot about the exam until the day of" madness. 

13. What book are you reading? Another unfair question.  Currently, I am boring my way through "Immigration and Citizenship:  Process and Policy."  Sexy.

14. Summer or winter?  Summer weather, but winter food.  Don't get me wrong, summer has all the fresh veggies and fruits on it's side, but nothing is cozier than winter soups, braises, and pies.  But yet I can't function if the temperature is under 70 degrees.  Conundrum...

15. Do you have any special talents?  Absolutely not.  

Alright, your turn!  I tag Lauren & Heather, because they might actually do it.  :)  

Oh Shit.

When I told my dear Mama that I was cutting my hair, she cautioned, "Just keep it long enough to wear in a ponytail!"

So when I went to my hair appointment tonight, what's the one thing I forgot to say???

Thaaa's right.  I've got SHORT hair.  

I kind of like it.  :) 

The Great Divide

For the first time today, I had the experience of going to vote with both of my parents.  

In 2000, I was robbed of my chance to vote by the pesky fact that my birthday was mere days after the election.   In 2004, I voted absentee from my college dorm room.  This year, 2008, I stood between my parents as I showed my license and signed my name.  

What struck me more than seeing our names all in a row on the registration sheet was how much I have diverged from my parent's ideologies.  I'm no longer the little girl who hangs on every word said by her Mommy and I no longer like sports teams just because my Dad does (the Lions?  Seriously, Dad???).  As my parents began to grow more conservative with age, my sister and I have become increasingly liberal (S. once called me a "little Commie," and I had to politely reprimand him:  "No dear, I'm socialist.").  

 

However, I know that I hold my liberal views because of the values my parents impressed on me as a child.  If I only could remember the number of times my mom said, "Kate, you are no better than anyone else and no one is better than you."  I can remember my dad digging for dollars and change for the homeless as my sister and I tried to blaze on by.  Family vacations always had to be some form of compromise between a beach for mom and a battlefield/historical site for dad--so we could have fun but also never forget the sacrifices of others.  My whole life, I've been taught how incredibly blessed I am, and because of those gifts, I have a duty to give back to my community.  That those with more have an obligation to help those with less.  That everyone, EVERYONE, deserves a fair shot in life.  Just because you're born with more doesn't mean you deserve more, or that someone born with less doesn't deserve more.  And most importantly, sometimes you have to make personal sacrifice to ensure fairness & justice.

Sound like some rhetoric we've heard lately?  Read this.

So thank you, Mom & Dad, for making me who I am today, even if we don't always agree on politics.  In some ways, the apple still hasn't fallen far from the tree.  It just feel further to the left. 

I should know better...

Things that I am too old to do anymore:

1.  Spend 45 minutes yanking items from my closet in search of THE PERFECT OUTFIT, only to go back to the very first thing I had on.  And where was I going, you ask?  That's right, to a small dinner party.  My priorities are stellar.

2. Run around town dropping off my dry cleaning/paying rent/buying new lip gloss, and forget to eat lunch.  Remember that I only ate 140 calories of breakfast in the form of turkey bacon.  Decide that it's ok to start drinking wine because I'll be eating a massive dinner soon.  Proceed to eat a miniscule amount of dinner because my tummy is too full of wine.  

3. Consume 1.5 bottles of wine, solo.  On the aforementioned empty stomach.  Ugh.

4. Call S. and tell him that he MUST talk to me as I walk the loooong walk home from my friends (ahem, 2 blocks in sober eyes) because there might be ghosts out.  Force S. to talk to me for the next 45 minutes as I shout, "But S., the bed is SPINNING.  IN CIRCLES.  AND LUCY-DOG IS SPINNING, TOO!"

5. Spend this morning drinking water, eating wheat Saltines, and swearing that I'm never drinking again.  Like, ever.  Nevahvnevah again.

6. Crack open another bottle of wine at 7 p.m. because it's impossible to stay home and study on a Saturday night without drinking wine.  That makes me less loser-ish.  Or a law student.  One of those.  Or both.  I think I'll mention that on my Bar application when they ask me why I am qualified to be an attorney.  "Well, your Honor, I can pronounce words like 'heretofore,' and 'in limine' even when I'm hammered.  Ask anyone!"

And to think, I turn 26 in a little over week.  I have matured so much since those glory days at Vanderbilt....  

Things I Love About Fall

Once upon a time, someone described to me how our bodies and minds correlate to the seasons.  In fall, we begin to slow down and take stock of our lives, thinking about our next direction.  During winter, we take cold, hard evaluation of who we are, where we are, and what we want.  Spring is a time for putting those winter plans in action, and in Summer, we blossom in our new found path.  Rinse & repeat.  It's a cycle we continue our whole lives.  

From the I first heard that theory, I've appreciated each season a little bit more.  I really try to think about how the season relates to my own life--Am I celebrating how wonderful my life is?  Do I need to look more closely at my choices?  Do I need to slow down and make some plans?    

In the spirit of fall, here are a few of my favorite things about the season, and how they encourage me to slow down, relax, and prepare for the hard decisions ahead:  

1. Waking up in the morning, knowing that it's chilly outside, but being warm and snuggled under my 3 quilts, with Lucy-dog right next to me.  I'm so grateful that I have a safe haven--my home.

2. Watching Lucy-dog hop through piles of leaves.  Her little 3-inch long legs make it impossible for her to walk, so she bunny-hops.  This is quite possibly the cutest thing ever.  I could have ended up with any pound-hound, but I am so, so, so lucky that Lucy choose me to be her mommy. My life would be much emptier without her cuddles and wiggly butt.

3. Hot coffee in the morning, warm spicy chai in the afternoon, and piping hot anise tea at night.  I will remember to be grateful for the little pleasures in life.  

4. FOOTBALL--Go Dores! Last weekend, I got to see a Vandy game with my Dad, and it was quite possible one of the best days of my life.  I don't get to spend a lot of alone time with my Dad anymore, and I relish each time we have daddy-daughter days.

5.  My favorite holidays:  Halloween, my birthday, Turkey day, and CHRISTMAS (Ok, so maybe Christmas is in the winter, but I get to decorate for it in the fall!).  My dad used to walk us all over our little town trick-or-treating, and my plastic pumpkin was always overflowing.  Mom let us eat as much candy as we could manage when we got home, i.e. a little kid's dream.  I love, love, LOVE (one more time) LOVE being with my family, and fall holidays mean my whole family is together.  I am so lucky that the women in my family taught me how to cook, and holidays are my favorite times to be crammed in the kitchen with my mom & sister, asking for help with the gravy or making pies.  I will always remember my grandmother at the stove, stirring creamed corn, and I'll never forget the way her blackberry pies tasted.  

6.  Boots!  I finally get to drag my lovely Frye's out of the back of my closet.  Nothing reminds me of my glory days in Nashville more than pulling on my Harness boots and clomping around town.  I still remember the day (my birthday, actually) that my mom & dad bought them for me. 

So there you have it--Kate's preparation for the winter, little reminders of what makes me happy at this time of the year.  Just a little reflection on an underrated season.  I encourage you to use the falling leaves as a reminder to evaluate & remember the simple things that make you smile.  

Self-Soothing

Well, I knew it was coming:  my first breakdown of the semester.  A little early this semester, but, all things considered, I think I'm entitled to a little premature freak-out.  

On Sunday, everything reached a culmination point.  My seminar paper is due in a week and I haven't started.  I have no idea what is going on in my tax law class, and 0% motivation to study the Federal income tax code.  Things with S. are up-down-up-down-fake up-bottomless pit down, etc.  My friends all seem to have fallen off the face of the earth, as we're all under equal pressure this semester.  My hair looks like a version of Jenny Garth's stringy, rooty, mess circa 90210 (it's really hard to feel pretty with air-band hair).  In short, I was down about EVERYTHING. 

My mom has a favorite thing to say to me when I'm wallowing:  "Either live with it or do something about it."  So today, I engaged in a little self-therapy.  I made a list of everything that was contributing to my near-panic attack, and then made a second list of what I could do about those things.  I came to 2 conclusions:  they were all either things that I absolutely can't control--e.g. S's behavior--or things that I can take care of with a little hard work and preparation--work on paper NOW instead of writing this blog post.  I realize that sounds dangerously close to the AA serenity prayer (I know aaaalllll about this little ditty from several clients) but there is something incredibly calming about letting go of things that I can't change...and taking on the ones I can.  I know I can (and must) rock this paper, I will study my (Reuben-esque) rear off over the holiday, and I will get through this last year of law school.  I will.  

Those two little realizations have done a lot for my mental health.  Not to mention the two giant coolers of groceries and goodies my parents sent home with me.  Even thought I'm almost 26, still in school and brokedy-broke-broke, my parents still don't want me to starve.  In fact, they certainly don't want me to lose those last 5 Chilean pastry pounds, as evidenced by the amount of carbs I put up in my cabinet and fridge.   Mmm rice and pasta and homemade apple butter and peach rings!!!

And my #1 pick me up:  My mom bought me this.  I don't care if it's gross, I've wanted one ever since I saw the informercial at 3:30 a.m. a year ago during an intense bout of insomnia.  God bless TV marketing!  

So here's to the light at the end of the tunnel, better days, and letting go.  I'm so lucky to have a family who picks me up when I'm down and makes sure I have a full pantry.  And by this weekend, with a little luck and lots of work, I'll have a rough draft.  I might even take control of my hair & make an appointment.  

Middle of the Night Freak Outs

I've had raging insomnia for a handful of years now.  It started during my senior year in college and steadily escalated to the point that I actually got an Rx for chemical sleep assistance.  Keep in mind, I abhor taking little magic pills to cure what ails me.  The last time I actually sang myself a chemical lullaby was on the 10 hour flight to Santiago.  

My usual M.O. for falling asleep involves me shifting into various positions, convinced that I will fall asleep as soon as I find that perfect "spot."  This annoys my dog to no end, to the point that she frequently jumps of my bed and sleepily stumbles to the couch.  I swear she mutters, "screw that crazy lady, messin' with my beauty sleep" under her breath.  

Lately, I have been tossing and turning more than usual, and even after I finally fall asleep, I wake up in cold sweats, freaked out of my mind about some to-do or the other.  Last night was an extreme example.  Lucy-dog had long since packed up for the couch by the time I feel asleep, sometime after 2:30 a.m.  I proceeded to wake up almost every hour with a new paranoia.  

At 3:30, I couldn't remember my grandmother's voice.  I willed myself to stop crying and concentrate.  I eventually could remember the way she said, "Well I'll be!" and that calmed me enough to doze off again.  

At 4:30, I realized my seminar paper is due in 2 weeks.  I almost hopped out of bed to start reading journal articles, but I somehow fell asleep before I actually put a foot on the floor.  

At 5:30, why hadn't S. called me last night?  Or had he?  I couldn't remember?  I talked myself out of calling him in the wee hours of the morning, but made a mental note to check my phone in the morning to see if he had called (he had, twice). 

At 7:00, Lucy had to potty.  As in, HAD TO GO RIGHT NOW.  I stumbled outside in THE purple sweatpants, a black t-shirt with no bra, and a pair of grandma's old fuzzy socks...only to find that it was pouring down rain.  Being a bad mother, I let go of Lucy's leash and let her wander into the ivy-covered front yard to figure it out on her own.  My logic was that she would come back because she's terrified of rain.  Check one for Kate!  Back in my bed, I replayed that irresponsible action over and over and freaked out over my fear of Lucy running away.  Mental note to never do that again.  

At 8:15, my morning wake-up call from S.  He sounds too perky.  I went back to sleep

At 8:45, did S. call?  Shit, I have to write a paper today.  I have to pack for mom and dad's.  Have I called my dad lately?  Did my sister really say he's voting for Obama?  Too much.  Back to sleep.  

9:45.  SHIT.  Overslept almost 2 hours.  Laid awake thinking for a few minutes and finally remembered grandma's voice.  Her laugh.  

Welcome to a night in the life of K.  Fun, yes?  I'm laughing too.  But seriously, these midnight freak-outs are an indication of ONE.VERY.BIG.THING:  Finals are coming.  Only 4 weeks.  Paper due in 2.  

The night sweats have commenced.  I won't sleep well for the next month.  

It's crunch time.  

Learning to live with it.

During a discussion over ex-boyfriends, my 19 year-old friend A. told me something that is still haunting me.  A. and her long-time high school boyfriend broke up over a year ago, but she still affectionately mentions her ex every now & again.  She told me that she was certain they would never be together again (in fact, she is dating a great new guy).  But she also made this profound statement:  "The hardest part is realizing that I'm always going to be in love with him, and I have to live with that." 

How amazingly accurate. 

I don't really want to dig into the deeper details of my personal life to the entire web community, but it's sufficient to say that I've got to learn to live with my feelings for S.  Even if we can't be together, a piece of me will always fiercely love him.  I know it can't go back to the way it was, but damn!  how I wish it could.  I wish we could have our weekly late Sunday morning breakfasts, where we take our greasy heads out to eat eat greasy-spoon food.  I wish we could be that couple holding hands (PDA!  My only exception) as we browse boutique-y shops & share coffee.  I want to go back to our routine of calling each other morning, noon, and night.  I want him to hold me.  I want to hold him.  I want it back the way it was.

But we can't.  Instead, I've got to live with it.

Song Lyric Survey (Stolen from Lauren!)

Normal questions, harder answers.  Only answer in song lyrics.

Current relationship status:  "I've never been so alone, And I've never been so alive." (Third Eye Blind, Motorcycle Driveby)

Your first love:  "Had to find some higher ground, had some fear to get around.  You can't say what you don't know, later on won't work no more."  (Tom Petty, Square One) 

Do you believe in love at first sight? "I don't know if I can do that."  (Luke Bryan, I Don't Know If I Can Do That)

Your most recent ex:  "I keep letting you back in, how can I explain myself.  As painful as this thing has been, I just can be with no one else.  See I know what we've got to do, you let go, and I'll let go too."  (Ex Factor, Lauryn Hill)

Your best friend:  "And I won't be far from where you are if ever you should call, you meant more to me than anyone I've ever loved at all.  But you taught me how to trust myself, and so I say to you, this is what I have to do."  (Missy Higgins, Where I Stood)

Sex:  "You keep me in a daydream, keep me going strong."  (Superstitious, Stevie Wonder) 

Marriage:  "I don't care for your fairytales.  You're so worried 'bout the maiden though you know she's only waiting on the next best thing."  (Fairytale, Sara Barellies)

Life:  "If you think time will change your ways, don't wait too long."  (Madeleine Peyroux, Don't Wait Too Long)

Death:  "When someone said count your blessings now, I guess I just didn't know how...I'll keep you locked in my head until we meet again...and I won't forget you."  (Pink, Who Knew)

Your regrets:  "Now I've made some mistakes, I've lost some friends a long the way.  But I don't carry it because it's made me a better chick...I may not be what I'm supposed to, but I can tell you right now I ain't what I used to be."  (Mary J. Blige, Reflections)

High School:  "She used to tie her hair up in ribbons and bows, sign her letters with X's and O's."  (She's An American Girl, Trisha Yearwood) 

Your worst enemy:  "There are people in your life who have come and gone, they let you down and they hurt your pride.  You better put it all behind you baby; life goes on.  You keep carrying that anger, it will eat you up inside."  (Don Henley, Heart of the Matter)

Authority:  "I opened my mouth and I heard myself, it can get pretty lonely when you show yourself, guess I could have made it easier on myself but I, I could never follow."  (Dixie Chicks, Long Way Around)

Politics:  Listen to all of Ray Lemontagne's "How Come."  But in particular:  "And justice can be a thief, and freedom can be an empty cup from which everybody wanna drink." 

Your religious stand/views:  "I hope that everybody can find a little flame.  Me, I say my prayers and then light myself on fire, walk out on a wire once again...." (Counting Crows, Goodnight Elizabeth)

Monday:  "Just another manic Monday..."  (The Bangles, Manic Monday.  Cliche and unoriginal, but soooo true.  Plus, this one was one of my favorite songs as a child and I would put this tape on repeat!)

Tuesday:  "The first sight of morning is grey and alarming, It's so disappointing the day has come so soon."  (Brandi Carlile, Late Morning Lullaby).  I HATE Tuesdays.

Wednesday:  "I'm halfway there...living on a prayer" (yup, that's some old school Bon Jovi for you!)  Did I mention I'm not a fan of the mid-week?  This is getting painfully unoriginal...

Thursday: "But what you've done here is put yourself between a bullet and a target, and it won't be long before you're pulling yourself away..."  (Bullet and A Target, Citizen Cope)

Friday:  "Heads California, Tails Carolinas, somewhere greener, somewhere warmer."  (Heads California, JoDee Messina)  Damn, but Fridays just make me want to hop in Gretta-Jetta and head...anywhere.  

Saturday:  OBVIOUSLY--"Worked hard all week, got a little jingle on a Tennessee Saturday night."  (Alabama, Dixieland Delight)  

Sunday:  "Although though now, most of my days are spent alone."  (Amos Lee, Arms of a Woman).  Loneliest day of the week.

Coffee:  "If the way you drank your coffee was the way you looked at me, I could take both my hands of the TV."  (Lisa Loeb, Lisa Listen)

Tea:  "And I'm weeping for honey and milk..." (Warm Whispers, Missy Higgins)

Alcohol:  "Bottle of red, bottle of white, ever kind of mood you're in tonight."  (Scenes from an Italian Restaurant, Billy Joel)

Cigarettes:  "I said no, no, no."  (Rehab, Amy Winehouse)

Lunch meat:  Hmm....don't eat it. 

Food:  "Love love love love love, Looove love love!!!"  (Bottle It Up, Sarah Barellies).

Color:  "When you have awoken, from all the dreams broken, come and dance with me, dance with, into the colors..."  (Ben Harper, Into the Colors)

Anything you'd like to add:  "She is young and she still has her confidence, and it's not too  late to tie up those loose ends." (Loose Ends, Rosie Thomas) 

When Did Women Stop Having Waists?

A burning question has been etched in my mind lately:

When did clothing companies stop designing for REAL women's bodies???

I know, I'm deep like that.  But let me just start this little rant with the fact that I have spent almost $150 in the past 2 months having my clothes tailored.  That's $150 I no longer get to spend on groceries.  I sure hope Thanksgiving produces lots and lot of leftovers...

I am a very averaged sized girl--5'3 and a size 4.  My body is proportional, i.e. my bottom half matches my top half just fine.  I even got all techie and posted a picture so you can see for yourself.  However, I can't find one damn thing that fits!  I have been blessed/cursed with a "woman's shape," i.e. I have breasts and hips and a small waist LIKE A NORMAL WOMAN.  Apparently, this makes me ineligible for 90% of the clothing on today's racks.  

I recently bought the cutest little suit--black tweed with tiny hints of bright colors, fitted skirt with big buttons, and the most darling little swing jacket with 3/4 sleeves.  It screams "wear me to interviews at non-profits!!!"  I love it.  However, it was a large part of that $150 tailoring bill.  Some women would have just passed on the little suit, claiming it didn't fit (C. is like this--if it doesn't fit off the rack she won't buy it.  C. is also shaped like those girls on ANTM).  What bothers me is that the suit DID fit, minus the fact that the waist was as wide as the hemline.  I hope you're thinking, "WTF?" because I certainly did.  In fact, EVERY SINGLE SUIT I tried on had the same problem.  And it wasn't that I was looking at cheap suits.  We're talking lawyer-sized budget (with a little help from Mom) priced ensembles for my first year of big-girl work.  For the past few years, almost every pair of pants, skirts, or especially dresses I've tried on have been the same size from bust to hips--straight.  Now how many women are actually shaped like a deck of cards?!  I would love to know how much money I've spent in the past year alone getting pants/skirts/dresses nipped in at the waist (we won't even go into hemming...).

However, any time I try on a vintage dress or skirt, it almost always fits perfectly.  It's nipped at the waist but allows room for my bosom and hips.  Vintage dresses are generally well-proportioned for my shape.  I've always said that I was born 50 years too late, and maybe this is the proof in the pudding.  Have women's bodies changed shape over the decades?  Or are designers just getting lazy and selling the same stuff they slap on their models?  Why can't I find ONE DRESS that is fitted at the waist???

I can only draw 2 conclusions from my little rant:

1. I'm so glad my mom just bought a nice sewing machine so she can start doing the dirty work!

2. Clothing companies only want to design for the "tall-skinnies."  My shape is "out" and boy-like bodies are in.  For women. 

Not trying to enact systemic change in the fashion industry, just try to blow off some steam and find some good work attire.  I have always been proud of my curves, and I've never had complaints from the fellas.  I wish designers would take a survey of what real women are shaped like and design for the rest of us.  

Tagged by H.

Yup, it's a meme.  Whoo hoo!  No, seriously, thanks to H. for allowing me to share 7 random things you don't know about me:

1. I had a serious problem with compound words as a child.  My favorite color was "pinkhot" and my dog lived in a "housedog."  I was a hot mess.  My mom notified the learning disability teacher to prepare a seat for me in his class.  I have no idea how I outgrew this.

2. I frequently daydream about throwing my law degree out a window and opening a small bakery/pie/coffee shop.  Nothing too big, but just my own little enterprise.  I will never actually do this because I have a huge fear that it will flop & I will be in debt and out of work. 

3. My dog truly is my alter ego.  We have the same weird habits, we are stubborn, we love to be outside but hate humidity or temperatures over 90 degrees, we like the warm spot left on the bed after someone gets up (for her, it's when I get up; for me, I used to do this with S.).  Sometimes I am freaked out by how similar we are.  Could my "soul mate" (ick, boo) be a dog???  (Further evidence that I will never again have a date.) 

4. Among the random chores I LOATHE are:  filling the Brita pitcher, taking out the recyclables, organizing my Sherman-tank sized jewelry box, and yes, replacing the roll of toilet paper.  I will go to great & ridiculous lengths to avoid these tasks.   

5. Although I have given almost $80K to the University of Louisville, I feel zero allegiance to the school.  On the other hand, I will be so terribly disappointed if my hypothetical children don't want to go to Vanderbilt. 

6. I spent the past 25 years worrying that I wasn't good enough & everyone else was more worthy than me.  This is the first time in my life I have been comfortable with my body, hair, face, opinions, intellect, and who I am as a person...and I am single, unemployed, and in massive debt.  Hmm...

7. Once I love someone, I will love them forever.  Even people I have sworn I will never speak to again.

So there you go.  It's like my own version of Post Secret!  I am tagging Bagel, Lauren, Victoria, Jessica, and what the hell, Lucie, you can do this twice!  ;)

Dear Employer With Dental & Eye Insurance, Please Hire Me.

DISCLAIMER to potential employers: We all need a laugh, right? Please hire me despite this post. Please. PLEASE.

It's no secret that these are scary times to be looking for a job. Especially scary when you want to enter the law-meets-public-service field and a certain "Maverick" says that it's time to suspend and/or cut the public service sector. The job hunt is freaking me out. Therefore, in my best effort to sell myself, I've created the PERFECT cover letter:

Dear Non-firm, Kumbayah-loving, low-paying Public Service Employer,


If you do not provide eye or dental insurance, go ahead and stop reading. I'm going to need to get this cavity filled eventually, and I certainly can't fix it on the measly salary you listed on your website. And my special contact lenses that aren't special enough to fall under my current insurance plan are cutting into my budget for apartment decorating and shoes. So if you can't give me some good benefits, throw this one in the can now. But please take note of my tasteful and expensive resume paper first--I spent at least $40 and 40 minutes picking it out.

My name is painfully common, but let me show you how uncommon and non-WASPy I am. I mean, I am a middle-class white girl from the Midwest with ancestors from Western Europe and was raised in a protestant church, but I'm different, I swear! I took a few "cultural perspectives" classes in college so I know about diversity. Also, I can speak Spanish, so that means I can totally relate to the underprivileged, underpaid Latino immigrants who came to our country to find a better life but really just find discrimination and heartbreak and lower-than-minimum-wage jobs. But I'm blonde, so I also relate to their sense of discrimination. Those blonde jokes are rough!

My resume lists lots of skills and experiences which sound really, really good on paper but which didn't teach me all that much. My former job? Hogwash. I spent most of my time avoiding my control-freak boss and disciplining college students against my will. And that coveted research position? I mostly just check legal citations while watching episodes of "Forensic Files" or Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations." Granted, I've had some great summer legal positions, so please ask me a lot about those experiences so I can go off about our foster care system or how much better produce is in Chile.

Wait, what? You want to know about my grades? I'm not prepared to talk about my grades! Ok, here's the thing--first year was really, really rough. I just couldn't handle all the arrogance and self-importance and bitchiness...and yes, I'm talking about the professors. How am I supposed to care about res judica when the Prof is distracting me with her Soul Glo hair and nasty stares? Not to mention that I took my spring semester finals with a 48-hour migraine and walking pneumonia. But never fear, I've now figured out the system! I borrow prior students' outlines & archived past exams from the law school and memorize them in time for the exam. Now I'm doing just fine! See how much I've learned?

I have also spent considerable time researching the proper code of conduct for attorneys. I can consume mulitple glasses of wine during a business lunch and still assume an air of professionalism. I also have considerable practice drinking entire bottles of wine at home while I "work." Do not worry, I never ever drive after drinking, and I don't make a habit of participating in illegal activity (unless it involves jaywalking or parking tickets). But I am well-versed in judicial schmoozing and sucking up to those in positions of authority in general. I have perfected my "yes-ma'am-whatever-you-say" smile as I secretly scream profanities in my head. Additionally, I look good in a suit and can walk easily in 4-inch heels.

Above all, I am an excellent baker and frequently make cookies and pastries for my co-workers and office events. Even if I have no idea what I should be doing at my desk, I will guarntee that you will never go hungry!

If the above information didn't make you want to hire me, let me try one last tactic: PLEASE PLEASE give me a job because my student loan debt is astronomical. PLEASE.

I promise to be the best attorney you've ever had and only check my personal e-mail 10x a day at work. And no more Facebook (unless it's an emergency, of course).

Looove,
Katie, your soon-to-be-new-hire, as long as you have dental.

Lazy Sunday

After a law school week from you-know-where, I decided to today today off.  My own version of Lazy Sunday.  I have done absolutely no law school related work today. 

FYI, typing that sentence was amazingly gratifying.  

Here's what I have done today:

1. Read the papers (L'ville Courier Journal and Washington Post), attempted the crossword

2. Had catch-up phone conversations with S. and my good friend H. 

3. Went to the grocery and planned my meals for the week. 

4. Made broth for vegetable soup

5. Made applesauce

6. Made challah--a long and tedious process but the result is sooo worth it! 

7. Made the infamous jam cookies

8. Completed my laundry, folded clothes, dusted/vacuumed my apartment

9. Planned my outfits for the week, including my interview suit for Wednesday 

10. Spent some extra cuddle time with Lulu.

Just my own little version of a lazy Sunday.  :)  

Touch

A funny thing happen at my internship this week....A co-worker hugged me.  

As most of my friends know, I'm not a touchy-feely type.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my friends and family.  Probably more than they realize.  Maybe even to stalker-esque capacity.  I love the wonderful people I am lucky enough to have in my life.  I'm just not so crazy about touching them.  

I should re-state that.  I don't touch the people in my life.  It's not that I am opposed to touching/hugging my friends and family, I just don't do it on a regular basis. 

Perhaps that is an odd thing, but not if you come from my clan.  Actually, I am the most touchy person in my family.  Other than hugging my parents when we say goodbye, which are usually initiated by me, I can't really think of an instance in which my family hugs.  It's just not our thing.  That is absolutely no reflection  of how we feel about each other--we are incredibly close.  We're just rather reserved folks, I suppose.  True WASPs.

The first time I met my friend C's mom, she enveloped me in one of the biggest hugs I've ever received.  I have to admit, I was freaked out.  Those are the types of hugs I reserve for friends I haven't seen in years or my Lucy-dog (yes, I hug my dog more than my family.  So what? She loves it).  I received a similar hug from a co-worker, whom I've only known for a month, after I delivered a bag of baked goodies to her office.  I was completely taken aback.  

However, the reason I was throw off was not because the hug wasn't welcome.  It was because it was so very welcome.  That hug made me realize how infrequently I touch or am touched by other people.  Ignoring the recent funeral (which ranks right up there with weddings for hug-giving), I cannot even remember the last time I hugged someone (although I'm sure C. hugged me last time I saw her!).  

As a single girl, maybe this is just a fact of life:  no man, no hugging.  Touch is a metaphor for intimacy--as Americans, we generally only touch those people who we care about and are close to (Note:  Other cultures seem to avoid this pitfall).   Hugging is amazingly restorative and healing--the literal reaching out and giving of comfort.  It's a simple way to say, "Hey, I care about you enough to risk smelling your unwashed hair and stale perfume."  And it's so damn simple.  So simple, in fact, that I didn't even realize I missed it.  

Sans man, I suppose I'll have to rely upon random co-workers and C. to give me a little bit of feel-good lovin' every once in awhile.  Even for a girl of my WASPy background, that's a depressing little reality.  So I'll be grateful for those random hugs I receive, even when they come from unexpected sources.  

 

Locker Room Etiquette

We've all been here before:  After a workout, you're trying to wrestle out of a sweaty sports-bra or swimsuit and doing your best to keep the girly parts covered, when you turn around, there she is--The Naked Woman.  

As someone who has spent a vast amount of hours in women's locker rooms, most of them before the age of 18, I have often found myself wondering what the proper etiquette is for changing in a locker room.  Should you wiggle yourself into a stall, writhing in and out of your clothing while trying not to drop you clean underpants in the toilet?  Note:  if you're in a locker room with few stalls, this will also garner some pretty evil glares from the ladies who just want to go potty but were forced to wait on you for over five minutes.  Or is it better to do some version of the towel-t-shirt swap while staying as physically close to your locker as possible?  I always end up flashing my derriere at someone anyway, but this is generally the one I try.  I ust say, I've got it down to an art at this point.  But then...we have the naked ladies who just put it all out there.  

Today, I had just finished drying my hair in the bathroom portion of the locker room, and when I walked back to the changing/locker area, there were not one but TWO naked ladies.  One was slathering on lotion, and the other was brushing her hair.  Ok...please tell me WHY you cannot do those things AFTER you at least put on your undies and bra?  I'm no prude, and I prance around all day in my undies...in the privacy of my own home.  However, I grew up in a modest-enough house to expect NOT to see some random woman's who-ha in the middle of the day.  To top it off, these 2 ladies in particular continued their entire getting-ready routine (lotion, hair-fixing, make-up) sans any type of garment.  Totally comfortable and completely oblivious. 

Don't get me wrong, you have the right to be comfortable.  If I could get away with it, I'd wear my dirty, ugly, old-as-hell, size XL Vandy sweatpants to work every day.  And I understand that putting on clothes after a locker-room shower is miserable (still sweating, etc). But there is also something to be said for respecting the comfort of those around you.  If you are doing the naked-walk all over the locker room, I feel like I'm being ambushed--don't look over there!  Shit, she moved, don't look left!  Ahh!  

Maybe I just have some random hang-up or eerily repressed feelings.  Am I just being a prude?Maybe I need to join the sexual revolution Part Deux.   So please tell me, what's a girl to do post-workout?  I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions!

It's Over, But I'm Not Supposed To Talk To You.

Lately, I have had the great joy of rediscovering something I never even realized I'd lost:  My very best friend.  Otherwise known as the Ex (whom I'll call S). 

Why is it that, after a break-up, all of our friends tell us to stay away, not talk to the bastard, to act strong and happy and carefree?  Good riddance to him.  Stay away.  And above all, don't you DARE call him crying and asking what went wrong and askingwhy can't we be together and saying I still love you. DO NOT DO THIS.

But what if blowing off the recent ex means that you also have to say goodbye and break ties with your best friend?  Yes, I lost a boyfriend--a relationship, a companion, a person I could envision growing old with--but losing the friendship?  To me, that's the unbearable part.  I just cannot say a forever goodbye to the person who has been my confidant for the past five years and who knows the real, true Kate. 

I've received a lot of slack from friends for my continued relationship with S.  We still talk almost every day--I call him when I'm upset, I ask him about his job, we talk about the election, etc.  All the same things we used to talk about, but without the pressure of trying to make a relationship work.  And somehow, with that big, fat stress-bomb out of the picture, we've regained our friendship.  I could not be happier.  After all the drama, we finally found our way back to us.  S & K:  secret junk food eaters, nature lovers, travelers, amateur chefs, long drives with great conversations, best friends.  

So why do people keep telling me to cut him out of my life?  I realize that S and I's past track record doesn't make us overly trustworthy (on, of, on, off, but i still love him, never again, etc.).  But no worries, dear friends.  I'm not crawling back to him.  I am not delusional enough to think that it just-maybe-might-work-again-just-one-more-time.  I realize that it is over.  What I cannot realize, or accept, is that I am "supposed" to not want to talk to him or turn to him.  

This is the only way I know how to explain it:  He's my person.  

Soul-mate, schmoul-mate, but S is the one person who truly, 100% gets me.  And I can predict his every move before he even thinks about it.  I can truly tell him anything, whether it's that I think Mike Rowe is really hot or that I'm out of clean underwear or that I miss him.  No judgments.  Just understanding.  

It's no secret that the past month has been a rough one for me.  Through it all, one person was consistently and unfaltering there for me:  S.  He was there at 7 a.m. and 2 a.m. and 5 p.m.  He let me babble about anything.  He let me cry, whine, bitch, yell, sob, curse, and cry even more.  Not only was he there, but he was supportive.   He suffered a similar loss while we were in college, and it is beyond comforting to talk to someone who understands what happens when emotional roller coaster meets 2 papers, 1 research job, 1 internship, 5 classes, job searching, and Lucy-dog's attitude.  When most of my other friends flaked out (admittedly, I'm not big on asking for help), he was there.

Pardon me while I break the break-up taboo.  I will not hate him, I will not call him names, and I will not bash him to my friends.  I haven't forgotten why we broke up, but I do remember why we were great friends before we ever dated.  I realize that not all break ups are this amicable, but I am so grateful that ours is.  I'm so incredibly grateful to have my best friend back.

I realize that things will change once we start dating other people, but for now I'm relishing the return of S & K, the BFF edition.

Mood swings

I won't even pretend that my emotions haven't been all over the place lately.  

I DO NOT recommend (or wish upon my very worst enemy) the experience of being in your final year of law school with more work to do than hours in the day, looking for a job in a miserable economy...and then simultaneously losing your boyfriend of four and a half years and your perfect, wise, irreplaceable grandmother.  It's flat-out miserable.  

Now, I realize how very lucky I am.  In 8 months, I will possess a law degree.  I still have both my of parents, with whom I am very, very close, and the best sister on earth.  My dog is practically perfect in every way.  I've got great, funny, and clever friends. I have a (very nice) roof over my head, a car, a computer, etc. etc.  I am super healthy.  Heck, my football team is even doing great this year (Go 'Dores!).  While I generally despise this term, there is no denying that I have a very blessed life.  I am one lucky girl. 

But I can't seem to stop myself from bursting into tears in the baking aisle at the grocery.  Or staring into space instead of listening in class.  Or seeing a disheveled-looking couple getting breakfast at Panera on Sunday morning, and thinking, "that used to be us."  And then I feel guilty for being sad because I have so many good things in my life.  I have never been allowed to feel sorry for myself, and now is not the time to start.  

My grief over the loss of my grandmother is understandable to me.  It's ok to cry over the fact that I never learned how to can apple butter.  That seems normal, right?  I know I have the right to be sad about her passing, and I know it will take time to get used to missing her.  But it's the sadness over the break-up that's really getting under my skin.  Why do I get so sad about those couples at Panera when I have zero desire to hop back on the relationship bandwagon?  Why is it so painfully obvious that (literally) all my friends a getting married?  And why do I care so much that the only people who hit on me are 16 year-olds and scary old men???

I would be lying if I said I didn't have a fear of being that old women with too many cats (err, bassets) and an over-sized garden, who spends Christmas at the soup kitchen because she's got nowhere else to go.  So perhaps I'm just freaked out by the possibility of perpetual singledom.  Or maybe I'm slightly jealous when my friends throw around terms like "We're going to..." or "I get so mad at insert-significant-other's-name-here when he forgets to..."  I mean, who doesn't want someone else around to take out the trash and tell you that it's ok when you screw up at work?  Not to mention the benefits of having a built-in date to the inevitable glut of weddings/parties/alumni events which require attendance. 

However, someone recently pointed out to me that perhaps I'm having a overload of loss lately.  I will never be a student again, I will forever call the Ex "my ex," and I am slowly learning to say "My grandmother was" instead of "my grandmother is."  A loss of one thing tends to magnify the loss of another thing, and the only way to get over those losses are to embrace them, acknowledge them, and then find a way to push through and move on. 

I get out of bed every morning and go through the motions of my day.  I go to work and enjoy my job.  Every once and awhile, I hear something interesting in class.  I go to the gym and feel elated after a good workout.  I even laugh.  I am not unhappy in a general sense.  Amazingly, I feel like I've got my shit together more than I ever have.  I know that I'm going to be ok.  And even if I am that woman with the 20 dogs and a dusty old house, I'll be happy.  I know that.  

I just have to get through this hard time of grief and loss.  I have to push through it and remember how lucky I am.  I have to find some way to remember the things I once had, to know that I am a better person for having them, and to remember that I am still whole even without them.  I have to find a way to get up in the morning and feel okay again.

And you know where I think I'll start?  By canning some apple butter.  By myself.  

    

Sideways

The only way I know how to sum up my feelings lately is from a song:

You know it ain't easy

For these thoughts to leave me

There's not words to describe it

In French or in English

Well, diamonds they fade

Flowers they bloom

And I'm telling you

These feelings won't go away

They've been knocking me sideways

They've been knocking me out lately

Whenever you come around me

These feelings won't go away

I keep thinking in a moment that

Time will take them away

But these feelings won't go away. 

Sideways, Citzen Cope

What's in a Thing?

Lately, "things" have taken on a whole new meaning.  

Once you lose someone you love, things become very important.  A grocery list isn't just a layout of items, it's a way to remember that person's handwriting.  A ring isn't just a ring, it's a symbol of that person you can carry with you every day.  A snapshot becomes a precious commodity.  Even little things like spoons (my grandmother had very particular attitudes toward regular spoons and soup spoons) and fuzzy socks (we shared a mutual love of fuzzy house socks) and games (Scrabble) become a source of memories and rumination. 

For my family in particular, certain foods are now sacred.  My grandmother's love of jelly became a joke in our family:  If you came to visit grandma, you were probably going home with a jar of jelly.  I always had one jar in my refrigerator and another ready and waiting in the freezer.  In the recent power outage (which still hasn't been restored....), I lost the entire contents of my fridge, including my last jar of jelly made by my grandmother.  This was enough to send me into a fit of racking sobs for 15 minutes.  

Other things will cause me to stop in my tracks and reflect upon her:  red roses (while she loved all flowers, these were her favorite), hummingbirds (she could watch them for hours), boxes of chocolates (a necessary luxury...she could savor a box for a month), making and eating pie (a shared hobby...we loved fruit pies and hated pumpkin), going to the beauty parlor, vegetable soup...and on and on and on....

I have been staying at my grandmother's house, spending time with my grandpa and pretending to do schoolwork.  And something about being surrounded by her things is so incredibly comforting to me.  Sleeping in her bed, wearing her pajamas, seeing her pictures and handwritten address book, the knick-knacks she loved....all of those things make me feel like she's still here, at least a little bit.  I constantly remember her because her memory is literally everywhere.  Maybe that's morbid, but it comforts me.

But I know tomorrow I will have to go back to my big, empty, powerless apartment in Louisville.   Normally, I love returning to my apartment because it truly has become my home.  But this time, I don't want to leave.  I want to be here, with her things.  It sounds ridiculous, but I feel close to her if I'm surrounded by everything she loved.  Going back to Louisville will be a reality check--she's not here anymore.  I can't just pick up the phone and call her, I can't just hop in the car and drive to her house.  And as I sit in that big and empty apartment, there won't be as many reminders of her.  

My mom and I had planned to make jelly tomorrow at my grandma's house...until we learned that she had made jelly this past summer while we were on vacation.  She was going to give it to us at Christmas.  

So maybe it's just a few jars of jelly.  But you had better bet that I will cherish every last bite, just as she would have. 

The Best Teacher I Ever Had

It's taken me several days to figure out what to say here.  On Monday, I lost my true role model, my grandma.   

Suffice to say, I have nothing witty or cute to say right now.  I just want to share the lessons I learned from her that I will always carry with me.

1. Be confident, but humble.  My grandmother was not one to take praise, and she would shrug off most compliments she received.  And yet, she had a quite confidence and anyone who met her knew that she was comfortable in her skin and knew her capabilities.  I hope to find this balance.

2. Be selfless.  If I had to choose one word to describe my grandmother, this would be it.  After she turned 90, she finally started to let me people help her, even if it was more out of necessity than willingness.  She would do anything to help another person.  Anything.  Even in her last days, when she was in the hospital and struggling, she was concerned about my Mom getting enough sleep, my schoolwork, and my sister's comfort.  Down to the last moment she was worried about others. 

3. Be strong.  No one can ever compare to the amount of strength my grandma had.  She raised her brothers and sisters, worked during WWII, raised a family, worked, raised her grandchildren, and never once complained.  She showed her strength the most during times of grief.  When her youngest brother (who was almost like a child to her) passed away, she held her family together.  We often called her "command central" because she was the glue in the family.  She kept us going.  She was stronger than all of us put together and then some. 

4. You are better than no one else, and no one is better than you.  She truly lived as her brother's keeper...and yet she had the quiet confidence.  She constantly told my sister and I how we could do anything we wanted to, as long as we didn't step on toes along the way.  She wanted us to believe that we could be successful, but she also wanted us to reach that success with integrity. 

5. Family first.  A job is just a job, money doesn't make you happy.  He who has the most stuff...just has a lot of stuff.  Rich people aren't any happier than we are.  Family and friends are the things that really bring happiness and support.  Whenever I needed to be brought back down to earth (especially during my Vandy days), she could do it.  From her, I have learned to live more simply. 

6. Don't cuss, and don't talk badly about others.  I can truly say that I never heard her say a curse word...or a bad word about someone else.  To her, there was no reason for either.  The worst thing I ever heard her say was about Giada de Laurenis:  "I don't think think that smile is genuine."  

7. If all else fails, eat some dessert.  Until her very last day, she was cheered by the prospect of dessert.  Even if it is the worst day, a sweet will make it better.  She really didn't care if she was a 10 instead of an 8, she was going to eat her pie and ice cream (as long as it wasn't pumpkin).  Life really was sweet for her. 

She was truly the best teacher I've ever had.  I miss her already.  

Time for some dessert...

Bad Attitude...

...and I don't freaking care.  

Short version:  I've spent the weekend watching my dear, sweet, strong-as-hell grandmother become helpless and miserable.  Meanwhile, I'm watching those who love her fall apart.  I don't even have anything astute or poetic to say about it other that it's awful.  

There is no point to this post other that to warn my friends to steer far, far away from me.  I wouldn't touch me with a 39 1/2 ft. pole.  I oscillate between crying, grouchy, fine, hungry, not hungry, flat-out bitchy, needy, stand-offish, and more crying.  As Xtopher would say, I'm a hot mess.

So....Don't try to talk to me.  It's a mixed bag:  I may burst into tears at a word...or I may bite your head off and tell you to f*&^ off.   I'm worried that I will be kicked out of my tax class for throwing my textbook at my tough-as-nails prof...or I might just cry...in class...in front of my peers.  Fabulous.

If you see me, RUN.  Save yourself.  You know, like Jenny told Forrest.  

Inspiration-less

I have tried to write this blog post about 20 times, and each time I delete and start over.  So I'm just going to say it plain and simple:

I'm stressed.

The weekend began with 2 voicemails from my mother informing me that my 93-year old grandmother, and hero, was admitted to hospital and in the intensive care unit.  Needless to say, I ran out of work, went home to get my dog, some clean underwear, and a toothbrush, and drove home as fast as I dared.  The rest of the weekend was filled with heart monitors, oxygen levels, ordering food with no salt, and occasionally playing supervisor for my 91 year-old grandfather with dementia.  In total,  missed 3 classes and got very little school work done.  In short, I'm sleep deprived and screwed for my classes, and yet I still feel guilty that I left home to come back to school. 

As if school wasn't bad enough, I HATE my income tax class.  The professor has an attitude that I despise and I flat-out don't understand it.  So it takes me hours each week to do the reading and homework problems (I know...homework + law school = illegal)...and then I still have my other classes to worry about.  As of today, I still have not read one word for my international law class, and I think we're on page 300.  Oops.  That pretty much sums it up about school.

To add to school stress, I am supposed to spend every waking second looking for a job.  Considering that I sometimes do not have time to eat (but still am 10 lbs. overweight), I'm not sure how that's going to happen.  But each time I get my student loan statement, I am again reminded that I NEED A JOB.

I do have an internship that I love, and I really have no complaints other that it's been a big learning experience as I figure out how to balance school and work.  The only downside is that I'm the only law student enough to voluntarily work for free.  This does not help my other major stress-out factor...

MONEY.  Fixed income + mounting debt = Nuff said.

I have no clothes that fit because I apparently cannot stop putting carbs in my mouth.   Which makes my self esteem oh-so high!

Really, I could go on and on and on.  Admittedly, I am somewhat whining.  I do realize that everyone has similar problems.  I do.   And I realize that there are much larger issues in the world which are much more important than my measly existence.   But I just needed to put it out there that this is not one of my better weeks....

Here's looking forward to a bottle of wine and a better week next week!

Back in the Swim

For anyone who knows me, you've probably hear my horror stories/glory days about my former life as a swimmer.  However, 10 years of chlorination was enough, and I abruptly stopped swimming (at all) when I went to college.  I think I could count the number of times I've been in a pool (for fitness only purposes) since I was 19 on one hand.

Until today!  Thanks to my wonderful friend Becca, I hopped back in the swim of things this morning.  As I write this, my hair is wet, my skin is itchy-dry, and my entire apartment smells like chlorine, my left ear is full of water, and my shoulders hurt.  Good Lord I have MISSED THIS FEELING!

Considering that I'm still carrying around those extra 10 lbs. from my Chile excursion (damn bread and potatoes!) I plan on making it a regular event at least a few times a week.  

Let's just hope my hair doesn't turn green.  And I really don't want back those giant shoulders either.....

Milk vs. Organic Milk

A while back, my amazing friend Heather was stuck in a dead-end job with a psychotic boss (to say the least).  When she finally took her self-respect and left, she had the best leaving line I've ever heard...when the boss begged her not to leave, she retorted, "Honey, this job is the difference between me putting milk and organic milk on the table."  

Amazing, right?  Right!

Lately I've been thinking about those little quality of life differences:  Whole Goods vs. Kroger, Macy's clearance rack v. Ann Taylor, Z-Spa manicure vs. painting my nails at home.  More importantly, I've been asking myself how much they really matter.

This year, I have a major decision to make:  Firm or Non-Profit/Public Advocacy group?  And does choosing one mean the end of any type of career in the other?  To hear the law school gods speak is to think the answer is yes.  Whether that's true or not isn't really even relevant to my decision...I'm more concerned with the salary choice.  Choosing what makes me happy--working for a group dedicated to bettering the lives of others--means choosing milk over organic milk.  Actually, when my student loans are factored in, it might mean choosing milk every-other week instead of every week.  And no more half-and-half either. 

Two things are pointing me toward a definitive decision:

1. When I read job descriptions for firms, I am overwhelmingly bored and have to tell myself, "You could do it for a few years.  Really, you can handle 3 or 4 painful, boring, miserable, self-defeating years."  But when I read job descriptions at places such as the Southern Poverty Law Center, or at my internship at Legal Aid, I get really excited.  I am motivated to work.  When I think about the long hours I will inevitably be working, they seem less painful when I have a cause to fight for.  Those job descriptions make my eyes light up.  Firm descriptions make me look at my bank account and say, "Well, I should...."

2. In Chile, I really learned that living with less is better all around--less complicated, less stressful, less guilt.  Do I really need 5 variations of what is essentially the same black pencil skirt?  And moreover, does it make me any less of who I am if I have less material things?  I think the answer is absolutely not.  It's so easy for we women to be swept up in fashion and makeup and good haircuts and having the best party dress.  Or at least for me it is.  Maybe that's a character flaw of mine.  But I'm learning that those things really don't reflect who I am.  In Chile, I often went around sans-makeup (ok, ok, I can't give up my mascara) and wearing the same sweater all week.  I brought 2 pairs of pants and 6 dress shirts for 5 weeks of work, and  the thought, "oh my god!  I wore this last week!" never really crossed my mind.   In short, my appearance became much less important than the experience I was having.  (I could write an entire separate post on this...and just might!)

Those two things should speak volumes to me.  Sometimes you just have to take the road that works best for you, even if that road is filled with bumps and devoid of organic milk.  

Like all recent law school graduates, I'm positive my first few working years will be full of stress, long hours, and nights spent crying into my wine glass (note:  two things are certain in law school--you will drink, and you will cry).  But at least I will (hopefully) be able to wake up each morning and be proud of the work I'm doing....Even if I have to wear the same skirt and drink black coffee.

Flaky like a biscuit...

Well, well, well, the native son (ahem, daughter) returns!  Ok, so I've technically been back in the U.S. for 3 weeks now, but I've been trying to straighten out my real life before fixing my blog life.  

So much has passed since my last post, and I honestly have no direction for what I want to say right now.  There is so much to say about the trip, returning, and getting back in the swing of law school.  I think I will be proud just to upload a post at all.  :) 

Returning home was an adjustment, to say the least.  I am still saying "permiso" and "disculpe" to random (American) folks.  I even freaked out a woman at Whole Foods on my first day back because I opened my mouth to say something and Spanish accidentally came out.  Things like that happened several times during my first week back.  Also, I made major trouble re-adjusting to the lovely Kentucky heat and humidity.  I don't even need to mention the major body work my winter-weary skin needed, but let's just say that I've been blowing through a bottle of lotion and a razor every week!

The hardest change has been getting back in the law-school swing of things.  I was in denial about the start of classes until I was actually sitting in a classroom listening to my Crim Pro professor welcome us back.  Even then, I was out of it.  It was a surreal experience in that it was completely familar--same ol' classroom, same face, same heavy books--but yet I felt like it had been years since I last took a law school class.  Somehow, my 3 months in Chile felt like 2 years of my life.  In those 3 months, I think I grew up a little bit.  I stopped being so concerned about the law school "game" and realized that it's up to me to blaze my own path.  And that path can take any form I want it to.  I honestly, truly don't care about being caught up in the rat race or competing with my high-strung classmates (FYI, my law school friends who are reading this blog are mercifully NOT part of that group).  

On that note, two major changes have happened in my legal career:  I am now working at Legal Aid (!!!) and I am also doing research on immigration law.  Two things that make this gringa very happy!

And the final major life occurrence for me...The REB and I ended our relationship forever.  Like Mary J., there will be no more drama.  And for now, that's all I care to say about that. 

Ok, so that's it for my first post post-Chile.  Not very exciting, I know, but this election, my new job,  and other recent events are giving me fuel for the fire, folks.  No worries...I still need something to entertain me during class!  

An apology (to my 3 loyal readers) about the absence...

...but I just can't seem to find the motivation to sit in front of my computer when there is so much to do in CHILE!!!

I promise to be better about updating this measly little blog...when law school resumes.  I'll be daydreaming of Chile, so I can post memories of my adventures then.

A few short updates:

1. My Spanish has GREATLY improved!  I am nowhere near fluent (you would have to live abroad at least a year, or more, to achieve that) but I definitely hold my own.  I've finally mastered the art of understanding the frustrating Chilean accent (they constantly drop the last syllable of almost all words, and have different vocabulary for almost everything).  I truly feel like I could have some sort of intelligible conversation in Spanish with almost anyone now.

2. I still haven't figured out where I'm going to travel on my last week here.  Options include:  San Pedro de Atacama, Chile; Cuzco/Macchu Picchu, Peru; northern Brazil (BEACH); or Mendoza, Argentina with a little skiing in Portillo mixed in.  Sounds lazy, but after experiencing almost ZERO summer this year, I thing I would prefer anywhere with a beach.  However, money + safety = ????  Any thoughts?

3. My job is fairly unremarkable--some things I like, some things I really don't like.  But overall, it has been incredibly interesting and I feel like I have a leg-up on comparative and international law.  My "jefe" is a conundrum, to say the least, and keeps me very busy.  At least he's taking my to the Supreme Court and to see a session of Congress next week!  Yay (or boo) for Chilean lawyers and politicians!

4. I LOVE LOVE LOVE it here.  I love the lifestyle, the focus on family, the food (healthy!), and most of all, the deep respect for enjoying life.  Chileans are hard-working, no doubt, but they appreciate the small things:  taking time out of a work day to have coffee with a friend, taking the time to walk places, etc.  Chileans ENJOY life, rather than push through it like most Americans I know.  If anything, I hope I incorporate some of that vision into my own life when I return.

5. And speaking of returning...I am starting the process of alllll those mixed feelings.  Can't wait to see my dog/Mom/friends, but I will mourn this place for certain.  This is going to take up an entire post...more later.

I have 2 more weeks left to live/work in Viña del Mar, 1 week of traveling with my family (should be SUPER interesting...), and 1 week of traveling on my own.  Only a month left in Chile....que triste!

Hasta luego!!!  

I Should Join the Heavy Hitter

...because I seem to have a knack for witnessing accidents.

Today was rather exceptional, though. I have been terrified of cars and the crazy Chilean drivers since I got here, and today reconfirmed my fears. No lie: I watched a child get hit by a car.

Yup, you read that correctly. I watched as a green sedan came barreling down a residential street and then slammed on its brakes for a short second before hitting a kid. I heard the mother scream, I heard the child cry, and then I watched as the driver sped away. A chileano and I ran after the car trying to get the license number but we couldn't catch the car.

A hit-and-run, in Chile, right in front of my face.

Now I am even more paranoid about crossing the streets and walking near the road. Not only are these drivers CRAZY, impatient, selfish, and careless, but they get away with it. I have never seen a single speed limit sign here, and I've never seen a car pulled over (even though I've seen SEVERAL crazy drivers do incredibly stupid things). My bus ride each morning is like playing Russian Roulette: will we hit the car in front of us, or won't we? It makes me wish I was Catholic so I could say Hail Marys or at least take comfort in some rosary beads.

I know we gripe about getting tickets in the U.S., but at least we have someone keeping an eye on drivers. Another another thing: It took the ambulance at least 10 minutes to arrive, so I truly hope I don't have an accident with serious injuries because I'd probably kick it before I get any help. Luckily, the kid wasn't bleeding, but I'm pretty sure his legs were broken. Not really a pleasant thing to witness. Sorry to be such a Debbie-Downer in this post, but I am shaken and stirred, and not in the good way.

I have very few complaints about the way things work in Chile, but now I have something add to the (albeit, short) list: CRAZY ASS PSYCHO DRIVERS.

Thanks to an asshole in a green sedan, I will now have nightmares about getting hit by a car. And when I wake up, I get to take the bus-ride-of-death.