Blonde Redhead

No, dearhearts, I am not speaking of myself.

I went to the Interpol concert Friday night and Blonde Redhead opened. They are amazing. If you do not own them, you should. Because owning's fun, and fun is good. I think I had a sorority shirt that said something like that once. Not the "ownership" bit. Something else...bleh.

I have decided that appellate briefs are created only to make law students psychotic. My friends now randomly cry in the halls; I stare at that damn Nathan Hale statue in the reading room and SWEAR he's checking out Bitty's boobs; in that last phrase, instead of "statue" I wrote "statute," that says it all.

So hear is a Top Ten List of Things I'd Rather Be Doing:

10. Anything
9. Eating steak with a straw. Blended steak. Yeah. In a blender. Liquified meat.
8. Ripping out my eyelashes
7. Reading McCulloch v. Maryland every hour, on the hour, for the rest of my life
6. Grinding diamonds to dust with my teeth
5. Hot glue gunning my toes to the floor
4. Licking the windows clean
3. Translating Ashley Simpson lyrics into Latin
2. Sleeping with a goat
1. Anything

Sigh. Yes, folks, it's that bad.

I am Physically Unable to Dress Like a Lawyer

Houston, we have a problem.

Yesterday I went shopping for interview clothing. Sigh. Why is everything so freakin' boring?? I tried on a dozen suits and each one made me want to scream. Is color SO evil? Can we not break out of this black and grey rut? I'm not asking for much, just a tiny bit of pop-bang-wow-oomph-yowza excitement.

I didn't buy a suit. I bought a sweet little silk skirt and a precious little lavendar top that I will wear under my brown blazer with my kicky new round-toed creamish plaid pumps. That's the outfit for interview number one. Interview number two, as it is with a big-wig firm, requires more corporate-ness. I'm still gonna go suit hunting Sunday but I will probably stick with my navy and cream dress with my oh-so-demure red cardigan and long red necklace. Sigh. WHY CAN'T I HAVE A JOB WHERE I CAN WEAR MY NEW URBAN OUTFITTERS SKIRT OR MY FAVORITE "greens-against-Bush" SHIRT??? WHY?????

Sigh. I hope I don't ever start LIKING to dress like a lawyer. That would be spooky. Maybe if I had gobs of money and could buy super fancy-shmancy suits with perfectly placed lapels and tiny little buttons and ridiculously sexy heels I could be content. I have always liked those pantyhose with the line up the back, a la Casablanca. I could work the menswear. I guess.

But today I just cannot envision myself in a pinstriped suit. I love my bright twirly skirts and my slightly offensive conversation tees. And I love my neon green heels and my orange snakeskin stilettos. And I love wearing flowers in my hair. Bleh.

I shall single-handedly overhaul female lawyer attire. My blue velvet kitten heels and my orange cat-eyed glasses will show no mercy. I am Fashionista J.D., hear me roar!

Ode to the Reading Room

Great vestibule of self-destruction;
Under whose watch was this madcap crucible created?
Wireless cordless electric power doom
I'd cry but that seems so dated
so lacking in precedent
so void of intent


I place my books in a semi-circle around me
Like some Druid circle of old
And my lipstick crusts on Diet Coke bottles
While the moan of Cardozo pulses, "And we hold..."

And I'm accepting 20 years of debt for this wooden chair?
Scalia, Ginsburg, Posner, Holmes, oh shit!
I used to be an actress, a volunteer, a woman
And now I am fingers and a keyboard and a contested circuit split...

At least Elizabeth is on the other side of the table,
eyes crossing, my comrade in arms, highlighters piled.
And Sarah is sleeping somewhere with visions of amendments
bruising her sexpot style

Katherine stares out her window and dreams of a boy
and assures us of high hopes, sometimes makes us tea
and Stephanie curses and calls me Miss W and reminds me
of a stronger woman I used to be

My girls, my fighters of fights I couldn't fight on my own,
Sit at this table and question it all, too.
So at least I'm not alone with my redbound books,
not alone in this home-hell-res-ipsa-loquitur Room.

Dedicated, quite obviously, to Miss P, Miss N, Miss V, and Miss M, with much love on this gloomy day.

Trolls, yes, Trolls

This is how I feel right now. I feel like my red hair (it would be cool if it was hot pink) is standing on end and in completely whoppyjawed (see translation below) fashion and my blue eyes are exploding out of their sockets (it would be cool if they were pupil-less...or are those sunglasses?) and the studious pencil of academia is shoved through my spleen. Today, I admit it, I hate law school...but those silly trolls do look rather happy. And there are three of them. That's it. I'm psychotic and am now suffering from multiple troll personalities. Yippee!!

Nah, don't worry about me. I have my appellate brief to keep me company. We're good friends, the appellate brief and I. I call him Alfie. If only he looked like Jude Law. Alas, he is a wreck of papers, some of which are decorated with curse words and blue highlighter drawings of puppy dogs. Alfie and I have bonded recently over outline formation. We argued briefly about which should come first, Annoying Issue #1 or Annoying Issue #2. I argued that since Annoying Issue #2 was the MOST annoying, I definitely wanted to get it out of the way first. But noooOOOOoooo, Alfie put his foot down and made me go with Annoying Issue #1 in the beginner slot. He's such a jerk.

But aside from organizational arguments we really do get along swimmingly. He thinks the whole blog idea is horribly de trop but he lets me post here while he hangs out with the other briefs in the student lounge. He has a special place in my apartment (no, to answer your question, we are NOT sleeping together) and I feed him bonbons and grapes whenever he's hungry. And occassionally he lets me go for walks in the park alone.

Well, Alfie is back from his smoke break and he's rolling his eyes so I guess that means I have to sign off for now. We have to hammer out Super-Ridiculous Sub-Issues #1-4 before he'll let me go home to watch Scrubs.

He insisted his name be highlighted in red. A Biblical reference I'm sure.

Pete and a Girl I Don't Know

This is my friend Pete. Pete is fabulous. See that smile? How can you not LOVE that face? He's one of my favorite people in the world. On my list of favorite people he's only slightly below Clive Owen on the hotness scale and slightly above Snoopy for cuteness and loyalty. And yes, I consider Snoopy to be a "person."

Yummy and Easy Recipe

Cilantro-Lime Rice Salad

White rice (sushi rice works best)
2 teaspoons fresh cilantro
half a lime
1 pat butter
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon sugar

Mix all ingredients into cooked rice when rice is still very hot. Place in fridge once it's mixed well.

Salad base: 2 chopped cucumbers mixed with 1 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon sugar, 1/2 teaspoon black pepper, 1 teaspoon olive oil

Place chilled rice mixture on top of cucumber salad.

YAY!!!!!

I want to go fishing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Things I Learned Today

1. "Patently Obvious" is redundant.

2. My rice cooker is very, very slow and makes rice taste mildly of iron.

3. My friend Sarah is going to the birthday party of a police officer tonite and I am cordially invited.

4. I prefer the company of fish to several members of my law class.

5. The reason people put up with New Orleans in the summer is that they get to live in New Orleans in the "winter" (read: 80 degrees and not a cloud in the sky).

6. I have a subscription to Entertainment Weekly.

7. I don't like Entertainment Weekly.

8. I am looking forward to watching Scrubs more than 24 hours in advance.

Books You Should be Reading and Why

Since I hold a very prestigious B.A. in the very prestigious field of English, I feel it is my right, no, my DUTY, to enlighten you lesser mortals with the intellectual fodder that will make you worthy of my consideration. This is a beginner's list:

The Flounder Gunter Grass: You must read this. Today. Is it poetry? Is it prose? Is it history? Is it sciene? Is it romance? Is it philosophy? Oh my land! It's EVERYTHING, all wrapped up into a soul-splitting morsel of perfection. Own it, sleep with it, lick it for good luck, this baby is a winner.

Anne of Green Gables Lucy Maude Montgomery: Anne has red hair just like me.

Their Eyes were Watching God Nora Zeale Hurston: I have wept (and I mean truly wept) reading 3 books. This is one of them.

The Screwtape Letters C.S. Lewis: I'm a Christian so I have very personal reasons for loving this book/essay. But even if you are not a Christian, this is a remarkable examination of temptation and at the very least the author's style and intelligence will leave you scrambling for those boxes in the attic to unearth those childhood masterpieces, The Chronicles of Narnia (which, if anyone is asking, my favorite is Voyage of the Dawn Treader).

Frankenstein Mary Shelley: The most brilliant comment on the birth of feminism and the rise of the industrial age ever. Ever ever ever ever. And the story's cool and creepy, too. Yay!

Women in White Wilkie Collins: I groaned in agony when I saw I had to read this book for a Victorian Gothic class (gross gross gross). But this and Frankenstein changed my view of that period in literature forever. It's amazing, really. In a period of immense change and discovery, when you would expect optimism to ring out in every bit of literature, instead you find works like these that are desperately trying to illuminate the innocence that is likely lost in the midst of such expansion.

The Lexus and the Olive Tree Thomas Friedman: I lived in a "globalization is da bomb" bubble until I read this book. Everything has risks.

The Hunger Artist Kafka: This is the best short story. No qualifiers. No "ever" or "that I've read since college" or "written by a European." It is, quite simply, perfect.

Of Human Bondage and The Razor's Edge Somerset Maugham: I came to Maugham only recently. I read Razor in two days and then reread it. Human Bondage is even better. But start with Razor, to get a feel for his style and his sense of people and narration.

William Butler Yeats: All of his poetry. All of it. I wrote my senior thesis on Yeats so anyone who thinks he isn't amazing cannot possibly be my friend. I took his collected poems with me when I left for the Peace Corps and that book has the sand, blood, and tears of Morocco in its pages now. If you must be choosey, here are some of my favorites: No Second Troy, Wild Swans at Coole, The Stolen Child, Prayer for my Daughter, The Black Tower, Leda and the Swan, The Three Beggars, The Second Coming, To a Young Girl, Two Trees, The Lake Isle of Innisfree, Sailing to Byzantium, Easter 1916... Edit: How, how, how did I forget "An Irish Airman Foresees His Death"?? How? Law school is sucking out my soul, one well-loved poem at a time. I shall have to keep you with me, dear, to remind me of such things.

That will start you off.

I am an Adult

Today I went to a cafe to study and eat soup. After doing laundry I will get gussied up (see Southern dictionary below for exact translation) and attend an art opening with my friends. After this I will go to a bar to celebrate a colleague's birthday. All of these activities will occur before midnight and I will likely be asleep by 1am. When did I become so mature?

I did have peanut butter for dinner last night so at least my sense of fun hasn't totally evapoarted. Yes, I know, eating peanut butter isn't exactly a hoot for most people but I like to rage against the dietary machine and last night I took no prisoners.

Tipitinas,etc.

Tipitinas is one of my favorite places in the entire world. Tipitinas, a certain hotel in Marrakech, my backyard in Little Rock, the brick path that leads to Lee Chapel, stage left of the Johnson Theatre: little places that make me believe in Heaven.

Tipitinas is a bar and music venue about five minutes (by car) from my house in Uptown. I went tonite and thought of what my favorite places will be next year or five years from now. I expect that hotel in Marrakech will always be in the top five, but I'm sure the others will fade. Tipitinas has that aura of fade already and it's only been in the top five for 3 months. I think it's odd, how the mind/heart works, how you can enjoy something (even love it) and at the same time recognize that it's fleeting. Seems like a chore sometimes, or at the very least it is a massive waste of emotional energy. But I guess I'd be a little less happy if I did not have favorite places, songs, prayers, people, movements, skirts, lipsticks, books, words, fish, and fruits.

Curlers and Other Tomfoolery

Many of my law school friends are not Southerners. I know, I know, but it can't be helped. The poor dears didn't have any say on what side of the Mason-Dixon they'd be born on. We shouldn't fault them for their misfortune. The following is a guide for said friends who occassionally stop and ask me what the hell I just said.

Curlers: some people call these "rollers," they are the round objects that make my hair wavy

Fiddlesticks: another way to say, "aw, shucks"

The Sticks/The Boonies/The Boondocks: way out there in the middle of nowhere

My land: I have no idea where this came from, I only know the females on my Mom's side of the family say it when they are shocked by something. Maybe it's a genetic phrase. Maybe I was born with a predisposition for bizarre phrasing.

Heavens to Betsy: another weird phrase that means, "My land!"

Bloomin: A word used to emphasize another word (either an adjective or an adverb depending on my whim at the moment); example: I have no bloomin idea what we're supposed to read tomorrow (I don't know if this is from my family, actually. I may have picked this one up elsewhere.)

Dagnammit: Self-explanatory. I use this and shoot, dang, and darn interchangeably

My word: Similar to "my land" but usually used in a shocked-sorry context. "My word" would be used if someone broke their arm and this was a shock to you. "My land" would be used if you found out a friend who said she'd never get hitched finally agreed to take the plunge.

Gussied Up: Dressed up. Fancy. This is not the terminology used for dressing nicely in the corporate sense. This is definitely more in the "I feel like wearing high heels, curling my hair, and wearing red lipstick" vein.

Whoppyjawed: Messed up. Totally crazy. A wreck. Think of a wreck involving a train carrying ice cream and a Mac truck carrying a tank of butane. Ice cream. On fire. That would be messed up. Or, if you know me, think of my room. Yup, that's whoppyjawed.

Alright, I'm sure others will come to me but for now these are the phrases that have proved to be the most confusing to my Yankee friends.

If I were a Victorian caricature...this would be me. Redheaded, with a flower on my boob. And insane pigtails. But I do not believe my nose is that pointy. And my nostrils aren't that messed up. And I definitely wouldn't do my hair like that with that outfit. Totally clashes. But otherwise, she's definitely me.

Jemaa L'Fna, home away from home

Zoom Zoom Zoom (like the commercial)

And it begins

I decided to make a blog because I need another way to procrastinate. I'm a law student in New Orleans and it's very important to manifest creative means by which I can ignore my appellate brief and the number of light bulbs in my apartment that need to be replaced.