tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88419344767709116502024-02-07T22:05:54.478-08:00my slice of lifeAnhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.comBlogger288125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-40673129453666722982019-02-14T23:25:00.000-08:002019-05-14T16:34:52.300-07:00five years later<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Four years ago, I wrote a post called "one year later" on Valentine's Day, reflecting on a love lost (more accurately - a love relinquished). Later that year, I met the man I would marry.<br />
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It is cliche to say, but I knew right away that he would be the one. Perhaps I knew, because I had set my intentions into the world, and he materialized sooner than I anticipated. We married this past January, making today a one-month later, if we are to use beginnings rather than endings as markers. Either way, I am here, trying to capture the things I've learned about love in the last five years, and it feels too large to wrap my mind around.<br />
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First, I learned to love my life untethered by the expectations I imposed on myself. There were many times I wondered if I was a disappointment to my parents, because I chose to journey through life by myself. My favorite moments were getting on a plane, settling in for a long nap, and waking up on the other side of the world. When I was with K, I "saved" my trips for us to go on together. Without him, I spontaneously booked plane tickets - I rode ATVs in Santorini, stood in quiet awe of the Hagia Sophia, ate my way through Tsukiji market on Thanksgiving, and danced into the wee morning hours on Bourbon Street. I felt a little lost, a little off-script, but incredibly in love with the world. </div>
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Second, I learned to prioritize my feelings above what I thought was the "right" decision. I stopped being so wary of my feelings and trusted the wisdom that came with being older. I distrusted passionate love nine years ago, and I thought the most important thing was to just pick someone devoted to me and to the idea of a family. I put my feelings second, because I thought I couldn't have it all. But as I started to travel down that path of head over heart, I knew I couldn't make the wrong choices again. I couldn't pick someone that I wasn't 100% enthusiastic about. </div>
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And then came my husband, and four years later, I still feel the same burst of excitement seeing his (very handsome) face every day, same as I did in the beginning. I have known love to be deep, but I have not understood it to be this <i>big</i> - an inadequate word but how else do I scratch at the surface of all the admiration I have for him and the way he makes me want to be better and the way he makes my small space in this world better. But isn't that something that everyone already knows? That love is huge and consumes, and if you are lucky, it makes you want to be better.</div>
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So there it is, love with a happy ending (beginning). Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. </div>
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Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-36547378627097994272015-06-09T21:45:00.001-07:002015-06-09T21:47:08.612-07:00the third decade<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My friend and I are on either side of 30, close enough to appreciate each other's perspective. We had a talk the other day about how 20-30 was so easy, at least for us. We knew what we had to do. We studied. We applied to law school. We went, we graduated, we passed the bar, and we began to practice. Easy. The second decade was easy. By 30, we had our careers. That was the goal. The mark has been ticked.<br />
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Looking ahead to the third decade, we asked ourselves what we hoped to accomplished. For women who are outside of the mating game (at least I would like to think that it's secondary) what is there? Is this the decade where we find our partners, set down roots, and send our genes into the next generation? She doesn't want kids. I do, but not with the wrong person, not with just anyone in my desperation to procreate. So the decade stretches ahead, completely blank. I ask myself what I want to have accomplished by the time I reach 40- savings goals, career goals, life goals and the answers are complicated; it's harder because the script has ended.<br />
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"I just don't want to look back when I'm 40 and think, what do I have to show for it? Or man, I really blew it."<br />
"Yeah me too."</div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-2301519156146245472015-02-18T00:54:00.000-08:002015-02-18T00:59:28.024-08:00one year later<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I post photos and little updates here and there. I exchange hundreds of short messages a day, things that run through my mind, but I haven't been throwing my voice out to the wind in a long, long time. I suppose this is where I express some aspiration to blog more or write more, but only time will tell if I actually keep up. What I'm really hoping is that I will write about one topic at a time and then my life will become clearer to whoever cares to read.<br />
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In the spirit of Valentine's Day, the topic is love. </div>
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My last love ended. Three years, nine months, some odd days that I am sure I can calculate if I really care to. It ended in a parking lot. It ended in tears, and in the months that followed, it seemed like it ended a long time ago. The reasons were many. I picked a couple, simple reasons to articulate to new friends and dates. I've never articulated them in public, well online public, and it's simultaneously hard and simple to explain: we weren't compatible. Isn't that how all love stories end? That moment that builds on a hundred moments when the fissures become clear, and the separation is inevitable. We tried our hardest. We loved each other. For that, I will always be grateful.</div>
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Sometimes, I get someone who says "You couldn't tell? You didn't know? It took you four years to figure out you weren't compatible with someone?" This question assumes that I knew myself. And maybe it took me four years to figure myself out. </div>
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I have no bitterness. No regrets. Valentine's Day wasn't a big red letter day this year, but it prompted me to read that Steinbeck letter on love again. (<a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/01/john-steinbeck-on-falling-in-love-a-1958-letter/251375/">Steinbeck on Love</a>). </div>
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<i>"<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; line-height: 23.2000007629395px;">There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you -- of kindness and consideration and respect -- not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn't know you had."</span></i></div>
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The first time I read the letter, the quote that stuck out was to be patient and nothing good gets away. At this particular juncture in my life (this has nothing to do with the last boyfriend), that quote ^ really gets to me. I have been single for almost a year now, and as I open the door back up to love, I understand that some people will use love for self-importance and that I might fall in that trap too if I'm not cognizant of the difference. </div>
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Moving forward with hope.</div>
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Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-90383266779000746192014-02-15T02:45:00.000-08:002014-02-15T02:45:40.642-08:00Valentine's Day <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ever since I got my new phone, I've been obsessed with posting everything on Instagram and checking in everywhere. Tonight, I took no less than 10 shots of my dinner, trying to get the angle and lighting right. Then I had to select the right filter. When I didn't have a great camera on my phone, I was always thinking, I should take more pictures. Now that I have no excuse, I find picture taking exhausting. The grass is always greener I guess.<br />
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Now, I am going to post a bunch of pictures to distract from perhaps some personal reflections. I regret not taking pictures last year, but I was kind of rushed coming from work. I think we took like 2 grainy shots at Lawry's. Anyway, here are some snippets of my celebration this year.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPgUiFIqcpqG5zsBFS6oE7qwwz5HuzJ5j3GtUV2WVRzV37fZB2wefS8_-T9wnqBcaZZeIqLSbU9AVPSKg8lqxgBaeCCx9UKHGkRPqxSuWiRGHy7Zz3L-Z3NkQcFXmtNsBlYr9WtJEtvq1/s1600/IMG_20140213_094754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzPgUiFIqcpqG5zsBFS6oE7qwwz5HuzJ5j3GtUV2WVRzV37fZB2wefS8_-T9wnqBcaZZeIqLSbU9AVPSKg8lqxgBaeCCx9UKHGkRPqxSuWiRGHy7Zz3L-Z3NkQcFXmtNsBlYr9WtJEtvq1/s1600/IMG_20140213_094754.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valentine's Day Eve cookies</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiuIhT277YOWG3MBxAd_nvD_lHHiK8dcN4hE-6ZCfVJ0XFg_00Cjbps-_PE0RM1ECha0jYSRKNSV-mGdhT_U2EnDvd-vbEEg0xrA8MkZBXE7SLttFFbTQkoTKQS4kkpkxHasBaIZmF2nd/s1600/IMG_20140214_142544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiuIhT277YOWG3MBxAd_nvD_lHHiK8dcN4hE-6ZCfVJ0XFg_00Cjbps-_PE0RM1ECha0jYSRKNSV-mGdhT_U2EnDvd-vbEEg0xrA8MkZBXE7SLttFFbTQkoTKQS4kkpkxHasBaIZmF2nd/s1600/IMG_20140214_142544.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Valentine's Day cookies from work</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplqZi9aRfe4OGZKSjpvFYAiquvdRsHp4YVX6TijLgV0fdAjRWCJVSp3xGQ8kBkZ1IXgEXAsTOG_amd3Sw50YgRv9LAdybIjZ0Os5KqANm8OSpW-YhkHMlPaLm08b38Cjt43T2Xq3GrON8/s1600/IMG_20140214_222102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplqZi9aRfe4OGZKSjpvFYAiquvdRsHp4YVX6TijLgV0fdAjRWCJVSp3xGQ8kBkZ1IXgEXAsTOG_amd3Sw50YgRv9LAdybIjZ0Os5KqANm8OSpW-YhkHMlPaLm08b38Cjt43T2Xq3GrON8/s1600/IMG_20140214_222102.jpg" height="296" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sugar cookies from scratch. He also made a dulce de leche cheesecake, which is currently in my refrigerator.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7ETfVt5vM_8tpuygcnjtwK5TLnbXyA13D482gExwK3kgafsZs8bvYR7Pf3gvq94PKedKCSzYrRkghsd1-cGB_12gJfQkc94xZydNiRB8Rxc_dM0G3badGW0d5h9oIiyRHPvEzq24_yEp/s1600/IMG_20140214_221836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7ETfVt5vM_8tpuygcnjtwK5TLnbXyA13D482gExwK3kgafsZs8bvYR7Pf3gvq94PKedKCSzYrRkghsd1-cGB_12gJfQkc94xZydNiRB8Rxc_dM0G3badGW0d5h9oIiyRHPvEzq24_yEp/s1600/IMG_20140214_221836.jpg" height="358" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I made smothered filet mignon, quinoa stuffed bell pepper, and caesar salad.<br />
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Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-79862055443466628932014-01-26T22:18:00.002-08:002014-01-26T22:19:39.046-08:00Decisions decisions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18o4gMZjtIyoNHYix8F-Eu6rvzsbBvxQuBd9cz9qo85OBvBfR3SbRxFT6iOqzVXtf0v1HOVFYAMn7koaCaW0sYwaXz1F6KCfpBsxy2vnsD9cJ1RKEIdFwN-6dlG2bilNembGFeMdK8zgy/s1600/inspirational.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg18o4gMZjtIyoNHYix8F-Eu6rvzsbBvxQuBd9cz9qo85OBvBfR3SbRxFT6iOqzVXtf0v1HOVFYAMn7koaCaW0sYwaXz1F6KCfpBsxy2vnsD9cJ1RKEIdFwN-6dlG2bilNembGFeMdK8zgy/s1600/inspirational.jpg" height="640" width="456" /></a></div>
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Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-43924075549895914792014-01-21T23:33:00.000-08:002014-01-21T23:33:03.692-08:00Tunnel Vision<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The problem with locking myself down to specifics is that as soon as I figure out what I want, something comes along and causes a paradigm shift.<br /><br />
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Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-35984496329893920402014-01-06T01:50:00.001-08:002014-01-06T01:50:27.108-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;">"A good first kiss culminates a period of longing, but its true sweetness lies in the promise of a new beginning."- Michael Cunningham, <i>The Hours</i></span></div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-79725403871675751372013-12-25T01:33:00.003-08:002014-01-06T02:12:07.691-08:00"I didn't get any presents"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I lugged a Nordstrom's bag out to my cousin's car at the end of the night. "Can you pop open the trunk?" I asked. She had driven me to the family party.<br />
"What's that? Gifts?"<br />
"Oh no, it's just food, leftovers."<br />
"Oh, I was about to say, I didn't get any gifts!"<br />
"Me neither."<br />
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My cousin and I grew up like sisters. We were the only children in our age group for a long, long time, so naturally, when Christmas came around, <i>everyone</i> showered us with gifts. I remember leaving these annual Christmas Eve parties with piles and piles of gifts. We were allowed to open one on Christmas Eve and the rest in the morning. I never waited. I just stayed up until midnight and declared it to be Christmas based on a technicality.<br />
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We got older. The gifts got smaller. We were handed envelopes full of cash or gift cards and sometimes, expensive cosmetics. Our older cousin introduced me to Hello Kitty and Sephora, the loves of my life. We still received gifts in college. I may have gotten some Starbucks gift cards in law school. There was a time I lamented this transition in a high school diary. I felt sad that no one could tell what I wanted anymore, that I wasn't easy to predict anymore.<br />
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I don't even bother looking for gifts under the tree. No one presses envelopes in my hand after I started working. Last night, we drove off with full bellies and an empty trunk. I've never felt more like an adult. </div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-12269087225397761672013-12-22T00:56:00.001-08:002013-12-22T00:56:22.464-08:00Little Tokyo jaunt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-15597185202910802242013-09-13T00:18:00.000-07:002013-09-13T00:18:03.341-07:00Labyrinth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-51594262459617597692013-09-05T03:13:00.002-07:002013-09-05T03:13:46.109-07:00comfort food<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I feel like I should post this on "Hare-Brained Schemes," which is a blog that Yves and I share. The concept of that blog is that we would post our business ideas/ventures on it, the dumber the better, and you would get a laugh. There's been two entries, both written by Yves.<br />
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I (and maybe some others) have been kicking around the idea of a restaurant that serves food you can only get at home. Home, in this case, is a concept, not your actual home. Restaurants tend to serve roughly the same fare. For example, I can get bowl of <i>pho</i> anywhere in the city, but when the craving for chicken <i>ro-ti</i> strikes, I have to call my mom. Then I have to wait until Sunday and drive 35 miles to my parents' house. Or I have to make it myself, like I made some meat stuffed tomatoes the other day. My friend was coincidentally eating the same thing all the way across the country, except hers was from a frozen batch made by her mom during her last visit to NYC.<br />
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I wouldn't limit it to just Vietnamese food; it's a cross-cultural thing. During lunch at LAFLA (a non-profit where I used to work), my Taiwanese coworker would share her food, things I wouldn't even know how to order. My ex-boyfriend loved this souffle egg thing his mom made. It didn't appear on any of the menus of the three Thai restaurants she owned. She had just the basics, stir fries and noodle dishes, while at home, we ate home Thai food.<br />
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Clearly, there is an underlayer of regional cuisine that hasn't been explored. Since this is just the germ of a hare-brained scheme, I don't know what the demand would be for such a restaurant, but it <i>is</i> LA--plenty of foodie appetites to fuel a burgeoning concept. If I build it, will you come? Or better yet, if I pitch it, will you Kickstart it?</div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-39995908417186642802013-08-24T01:50:00.002-07:002013-08-24T01:50:16.627-07:00Reality Show Pitches by my friends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<u>This Is How You Spend Your Money</u>. Patience is going to find people with money and spend it for them.<br />
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It's as simple as it sounds. Patience came up with this when she noticed that a lot of rich people spend their money on tasteless things or not spend it at all. She is going to show them how to live it up.<br />
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<u>Surprise Wedding</u>. Instead of proposing, a guy (or girl) will plan the whole wedding and ask his/her significant other to show up. The significant other says yes or no at the surprise wedding. Credits to Ray for coming up with this one. </div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-29113891410082320742013-08-11T23:43:00.002-07:002013-08-11T23:43:34.393-07:00family time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Spent some time with the fam over the weekend. I gave the kiddies my business card. Their mom (my cousin) advised, "If you ever owe anyone money, give them this card, and say 'Call my auntie. She will pay you.'" -___-<br />
<br />
Me (to the 13 year old): If you want a car, start asking now. It's going to take 3 years to get one.<br />Rachel: Yeah, and if they say no, you can ask for a cellphone and it won't seem so bad in comparison.<br />
<br />
I added the 13 year old on facebook. His mom is my facebook friend. She found out and made him deactivate. He was not that mad about it. They still have Xbox. </div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-66419655793118861472013-08-07T01:20:00.000-07:002013-08-07T01:20:03.706-07:00lawyer jail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My friend Mercy had her first hearing in federal court last year. Her name wasn't on the pleadings. I've never appeared in federal court (even though I am admitted), but apparently, appearing when your name isn't on the pleadings is a big no-no. She came back from her hearing and we asked her how it went. "They didn't send me to lawyer jail!" she exclaimed.<br />
<br />
And thus the term "lawyer jail" was coined.*<br />
<br />
Today, another friend (let's leave her anonymous for now) asked me, "Hey, is it okay if someone else contacts a party represented by counsel? As long as it's not me, right?"<br />
"Yeah, as long as it's not you or at your direction."<br />
"I don't like that answer."<br />
"Fine, then make up your own rules!"<br />
"No, I don't want to wake up next to [sleazy lawyer name omitted] in lawyer jail!"<br />
<br />
<br />
*<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm still not sure what lawyer jail actually is, but my understanding is that there is a special jail for lawyers when you act in contempt of the court.</span></div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-40287888852163884192013-08-04T22:14:00.002-07:002013-08-04T22:16:50.397-07:00night runs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Drake and I have had a long history. I first met Drake first year of college, when I could barely run a mile. I jogged/walked with my roommate and floormates. It was bad times.<br />
<br />
I kept at it though, and by second year of college, I could run four miles without collapsing. I used to come to Drake late at night, after the lights have gone off, and run until I was too exhausted to think about my problems. Second year was kind of tough on me. My grades weren't where I wanted them to be. The freshman 15 made me feel self-conscious about my body. I was mentally recovering from a death of a friend. I didn't realize how depressed I was until I emerged on the other side during senior year of college. Drake was there, with its open inviting lanes, giving me peace of mind in the darkness.<br />
<br />
By senior year, Drake and I were regular buddies. I turned to Drake to clear my mind. I didn't really have problems, just the occasional boy drama. Whenever I was frustrated or angry, I would just leave my phone at home and hit the track with my mp3 player. By the time I got back to my apartment, I had a bit of clarity, new resolve, and a couple of new text messages (sometimes).<br />
<br />
I met up with Drake again tonight. Ran the 3.7 miles from my apartment, felt the familiar rubber under my feet. Hello old lover, I've missed you.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-26172884420758306222013-08-03T01:47:00.001-07:002013-08-03T01:47:14.831-07:00#donttellsteve<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We have an unofficial General Counsel at the firm. I say this because the first time he found out he was the GC was during a firm presentation when the managing partner announced that he was the new GC (in addition to being a new partner) and everyone clapped. No one questioned it from that point, not even Steve.<br />
<br />
As our GC, he has to counsel us when potential liabilities arise, so the associates have taken to tagging our emails with donttellsteve whenever something remotely scandalous is mentioned in an email. (We still do it even though hashtags don't work in Outlook.) I have the distinction of being the only person to ever say it out loud in front of Steve.<br />
<br />
Today, Steve came in my office to tell me that he told our client about #donttellsteve and he received an email from an employee of the client who had included #donttellsteve at the end. Love it. </div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-4794412516422395942013-08-02T01:53:00.001-07:002013-08-03T01:48:16.684-07:00California Bar exam nostalgia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Write, I tell myself. Write something. Write anything. No one reads this blog anyhow.<br />
<br />
The California Bar ended today. It's been two years since I took the bar, and I'm starting to feel nostalgic? My friend's boyfriend is taking it this year, so it seems more real to me than it did last year. Last year was too soon for me to feel any nostalgia about the bar. It was just this terrible thing that happened to me once. The memories have dulled, and now it doesn't seem that bad? (I am seriously questioning my own memories. Did I imagine how terrible it was?)<br />
<br />
By far the worst part about the bar was the possibility of failing. During bar prep classes, urban legends began to surface. Everyone knows someone who went to Harvard/Yale/Stanford who <i>failed</i>. The word failed is delivered in the most ominous way possible by the storyteller while the rapt listener chugged some more Red Bull, grabbed a highlighter, and furiously attacked the Conviser guide. What about that guy who suffered a minor concussion and still passed? The legends span both sides of the extremes.<br />
<br />
What made studying so difficult was the fact that no one knew how much was enough. You're never done studying. It's impossible to master all 16 or so topics, so you try to learn maybe 70% of each topic, or maybe master 11 and hope that the 5 that you don't know don't come up. I think I tried to master all the topics in three months. That was prob not the best strategy for my health, but it made me feel better going into the exam.<br />
<br />
I miss the comraderie of having a ton of friends going through the same hell. I miss making up stupid acronyms and teaching them to each other. I miss spending way too much time in coffee shops, not really getting much work done, then coming home and actually doing work. That summer just flew by, just like this one. The end of summer always feels a little sad to me, because it seems like we steamroll right into the new year, and all these changes start to unfurl.<br />
<br />
I guess all this nostalgia isn't really for the bar exam itself, but for that part of my life that ended with the bar exam. </div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-26931018751667723482013-07-31T01:48:00.001-07:002013-08-03T01:48:34.759-07:00that time plaintiff's counsel walked away with no money<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was scheduled for a trial which was supposed to start today. It was pushed back to next week-ish. Plaintiff's lawyer kept calling with lower demands until finally, today, he was willing to just give up and dismiss the case with prejudice and our client doesn't have to pay a penny! Say what? Not very common, but this is the second time I've seen it at my firm. </div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-45496739613140358282013-07-29T22:22:00.003-07:002013-07-29T22:24:59.001-07:00wisdom from younger me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I used to believe that strength meant steeling yourself and not letting anyone hurt you. It was shutting yourself off, walling yourself up, making yourself impermeable and impervious to everything around you.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
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It took me some time to learn that strength starts with your own open, hopeful heart. It's being able to handle the pain that comes from being vulnerable. It's being strong enough to handle disappointment with grace and humility.</div>
</div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-64860937081186282482013-07-24T23:00:00.002-07:002013-07-24T23:00:28.604-07:00Be a woman.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My guy friend sent me this link today: <a href="http://justmytype.ca/11-differences-between-dating-a-boy-vs-a-man/">http://justmytype.ca/11-differences-between-dating-a-boy-vs-a-man/</a>. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I thought he was giving me some brotherly advice about men, but turns out he was trying to tell me to stop being a girl and start being a woman. Thanks dude. Worth a read.</div>
</div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-87658187470077123342013-07-18T23:46:00.001-07:002013-07-19T09:57:33.323-07:00non sequiturs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
me: This opposing counsel was such a jerk.<br />
CK: He might be hot. Was there tension?<br />
me: This is not like that movie with the family law attorneys, you know with George Clooney and Catherine Zeta-Jones?<br />
CK: Intolerable Cruelty?<br />
me: I can't believe you know the name of that!<br />
<br />
[minutes later]<br />
<br />
CK: The worst thing you can do is rob a man of his time.<br />
me: Okay now you're just talking about the Justin Timberlake movie, you know, the one with Amanda Siegfried?<br />
CK: Life is not a movie. These situations are not movies!<br />
me: Out of Time! That's what it was.<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
Clearly I cannot have a normal conversation without linking it to movies.</div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-67364497949646016952013-07-14T10:39:00.001-07:002013-07-14T10:40:16.874-07:00catch-up post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was scheduled for three trials in July. They were scheduled for July 15, July 22, and July 31. Pretty much I was certain I was going to die.<br />
<br />
The July 15 one settled in late June. Right before 4th of July weekend, we won on MSJ for the July 22 trial. The only one pending is the one going forward on July 31. It's strange to so busy with trial prep and then being told to abruptly "lay down your tools" (partner's words). It happens so quickly. My last case settled right before I was going to take plaintiff's deposition. I was excited to do it too.<br />
<br />
I've been obsessed with looking for the cronut; more bakeries have them now. Semi-Sweet Bakery in LA was the first to have it, and I went that next at lunch time, but of course, they were all sold out.<br />
<br />
Vanessa and I went to the Bay the day after 4th of July. We spent 4th of July at a friend's bbq where there was a ton of grilled meat, guys, and a huge ole pie. Then illegal fireworks exploded everywhere, because we were purportedly in the 'hood. Vanessa repeatedly attempted to take pictures with her camera phone, but the shutter was too slow and all she got was blurred smudges of light. I can't tell you how many times she tried that night. Jake and his brother Nate decided to twerk in the kitchen at our behest. I hope someone has a video of that.<br />
<br />
We went to Escape from the Mysterious Room in SF while we were in the Bay. I bought some tickets from a guy off of Craigslist and made Jared and Matt come with me to get them. When the guy came out, he looked at Jared and asked, "Are you the muscle?" Jared laughed and I replied, "No, he's the guy who's going to run away and call the police if you try to murder me."<br />
<br />
The escape game was really fun; it spurred Yves and me to start playing online escape games. We would gchat each other for answers even though walk-throughs are easily available online. More fun to problem-solve with a friend, even though it is online. That place also had Japanese toilets, which had a water rinsing option. Yves was in the stall next to me and told me the front option felt like the back option and she told me to try it too. I didn't. I kind of wish I had, but I think it would have been too invigorating.<br />
<br />
Melissa delivered my bridesmaid dress yesterday. We went to UniqueLA and then HomeGoods. It kind of felt nice to have an afternoon shopping, something I don't do much anymore.<br />
<br />
I felt kind of inspired to write this post, because I went back to my old xanga, and I had a ton of these snippets of life with friends, which I haven't been keeping track of anymore. I guess adults don't narrate their lives the way college kids did back in my day. I'm kind weary of pithy FB updates and relying on photographs and check-ins to tell the story of where I've been. So here it is, an entry for later-me, with all the blanks filled in. </div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-19155615200063301392013-05-21T16:44:00.001-07:002013-05-21T16:44:21.761-07:00Vegas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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No stories. Just my fave pics. </div>
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Even Jerry came out to Hakkasan.</div>
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Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-8687471053890351602013-05-11T16:03:00.000-07:002013-05-11T16:03:56.233-07:00being "soft"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I bought cupcakes for the assistants for no reason. My coworker pointed out that I had a "soft" side. Several days ago, I sent a package with some thoughtful things to a friend, also with no occasion attached. That word came up again. "Soft."<br />
<br />
Wtf does that mean?<br />
<br />
The word tugged at me as I read cases, started outlines, and went through my daily tasks. I started to unpack it in my head.<br />
<br />
At my work, there are no female partners. All the men are younger (early 40s), so there's kind of this informal, relaxed, aggressive culture to work. Since everyone is relatively young and male, I kind of act like them. I say "dude" a lot to my bosses. Everyone wears jeans and the one time I wore a pencil skirt, one of the partners asked me if I went to court earlier that day. Against this backdrop, I come off as kind of a tomboy, which is not really something that I ever thought of about myself. I accepted this designation without much thought.<br />
<br />
Then this "soft" business came up. I just hated how smug she seemed, as if she discovered some great secret about me. She acted as if being a tomboy (which I still don't think I am) meant that I was trying to hide the fact that I am nice to others. I balked at this fundamental misunderstanding of my nature. I often share food, buy gifts just because, and am generally amiable around my colleagues. Why is that being conflated with "soft?" If I were a man who showed the same kind of generosity, would anyone jump on it and think that it was a telltale sign of femininity?<br />
<br />
Further, I am not trying to hide my femininity at work. I just don't think about it. I don't think about being anything but a smart and aggressive advocate, and somehow that translated into not being feminine. You can be aggressive and bullish without being a miser. You can be generous and kind to people on your team, and still be a fierce litigator when the time comes to be strategically aggressive. I don't understand what being "soft" has to do with any of it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8841934476770911650.post-33453211913325312272013-05-03T01:10:00.001-07:002013-05-03T01:13:11.199-07:00I'm a real person now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I celebrated my work anniversary two weeks ago. I've been a second-year ever since I started getting paid like a second-year, but I never really stopped to think about it until now. There was a barrage of work, which thankfully let up recently, so now that the dust has settled, I can type some words of reflection.<br />
<br />
I spent most of my first year prepping for arbitration on a big case. We actually went to arbitration, which was exciting to see. My first year of practice was mainly spent just learning how to do things. It's true that you don't really learn the mechanics of practicing law in law school. We practiced writing memos and briefs, but I never learned all the possible pleadings and how to use them. Legal strategy never came up either. That's the exciting part, picturing the ways a case can go, but I wonder if the novelty will wear off.<br />
<br />
The most valuable thing I learned this past year was how to write a clean brief. In law school, all our prompts kind of had a close universe of facts. In practice, the universe of facts ends up being closed after awhile, but at first, there are just so many facts out there for the culling. It's a challenge not to get lost in the thicket, but when you're around experienced, talented attorneys, you get to see how they keep their head straight when so many things are going on.<br />
<br />
I've been to court a bunch of times for hearings, getting used to being addressed as "Counselor." I still kind of hate suits, but my most recent purchase actually feels comfortable to me now. I love running into friends in court; it's happened quite a bit. I was really nervous before a hearing, but having my friend around before having to go in front of the judge for oral arguments soothed my nerves. (I won that one btw. Woot.) I'm still trying to figure out where I want my career to go---working on that 5-year plan. So far though, everything seems to be falling into place.</div>
Anhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12638557163313417091noreply@blogger.com1