New Layout

Today I procrastinated homework by making a new blog layout. I think it was time well spent, don't you?

Not that there was anything particularly bad about the old one, but really the best thing I could say about it was that it wasn't too obnoxious. On kind days, I thought of the blog as sweet and simple, but most of the time it was just dull.


After meaning to change things up for months, I finally made a new one. All by myself (and several online tutorials). Sure, the banner may have been made in Microsoft Paint because I don't have a more sophisticated program, and I probably wouldn't know how to use it even if I did. And I may be alone in my belief that teal and purple look smashing together. But did I mention the all by myself thing? Yah, I'm probably a little too proud of my blog baby, I just can't help but love it .

Rock your body

Just got done watching this weeks Netflixed movie, Whip It. I loved every sweet bit. But, as I sat there, butt glued to the coach watching these awesome women with their wonderful pun names (Smashley Simpson, Smother Theresa, Jabba the Slut!) skate and jump and smash and move, I was oh so painfully aware that I use my body to type and sit and walk from the coach to the fridge.

I take no joy in the physical. My world has always been full of books and ideas played out in my mind, not the thrill of a good run or a killer jumpshot. Gym class was something to be avoided, team sports weren't even up for consideration.

The only thing I ever loved was judo. When I was about 8 my Dad signed me up for judo (I wanted ballet). Best choice my parents ever made for me. For a kid, I was good. Really good. And I really loved flipping people twice my size over my head. My last judo class was when I was 11, and I still miss that feeling of pushing myself until my body would just flow without a thought.

I want to do something with my body. Forget exercise. For me, exercise is the thing you make yourself do because you don't want to die young, and you can't afford to buy new jeans if you start to bulge beyond the constrains of your old ones. I want that feeling, that joy, that rush, that power. I want to make my body a part of me, not just the thing that hauls around my thinking bits.

You don't know what you've got til it's gone

Our power was out for most of the day today.  It sucked.

In these situations I'm supposed to say how great it was to focus on the simple things in life. To rediscover the joy of a good book or simple conversation. To discover how technology can interfere with really living.

Nope. I whined almost the whole time. I tried reading, but books just aren't as enjoyable when you have to read them. I was bored, my shower was ice cold and I was so paranoid about food going bad that I only allowed us to open the fridge once so the cold air could stay in better. While it was a little unerving to hear our appliances slowly lurch back to life when they finally got things up and running again, mostly I was too distracted by lunging towards my computer and reconnecting the life line.

You know why they invented things like electricity, computers and water heaters? Because they're usually better in some way than whatever they had before. Being able to flip a switch and have light appear like magic is better than worrying about whether the dozen or so tealights are going to burn your apartment down (not this time, but those suckers will singe your hair if your silly and forget that bending over a candle when your hair is loose is stupid). The internet is better than whatever people did before the internet (I have vague memories of playing outside, but I can't be certain).

Now sure, some if it is an issue of dependency. I don't have an ice box, because I depend on my refrigerator to keep my food from spoiling. I am overly addicted to my computer. I don't care. I like that most of the time these wonderful things are thoroughly interwoven with my life. If there ever is some sort of electricity ending apocalypse, I hope I'm eaten by zombies towards the beginning.

Videogamage of law school

In some ways, WCL (my law school) can be a little like a video game. You wander around semi-aimlessly trying to get all the required credits. At any moment you can be attacked by the Socratic method. Fortunately, some classes have cheat manuals passed around amongst the student containing the professor's script and warning you what combination can keep you out of danger. Little resume trinkets can be earned with side-quests like joining a law journal or moot court. Like any good gamers, law students can be found wide-awake and red eyed at ungodly hours trying to make it through one more level. The game ends with one last fight with the big boss - the bar exam.

And like any self-respecting video game, WCL has little nourishment packets just lying around for the replenishment of life points. WCL (which some surmise stands for will cater lunch) just leaves food lying around (theoretically its for meetings and conferences, but I don't buy into such crazy talk). Today I turned a corner and found a table full of hamburgers. Last week sandwiches appeared out of thin air.

All this school needs are some sound effects and tinny theme music start showing up, maybe a few crazy characters for extra pizzaz. Although, some guy dressed up as a crab was singing about "textual healing" in the lobby yesterday, so WCL is apparently heading in that direction.

In Celebration

• The snow has finally begun to melt. No longer are there giant snow banks to hop over, or mountains of snow to scale just to get to the bus stop. I step outside, and just walk. Pretending to be a grand arctic explorer was fun for a day, but being able to walk unencumbered is a great joy.
• I have a rough draft of a 30pg paper due in a week. For once, I have a professor who believes that a rough draft can and should be rough - not a perfectly polished masterpiece that will only be slightly tweaked. Hello weekend where I can do more than fight with Westlaw and gaze at the blank space of my word processor.
• I take back my cursing of Zach's brownie aversion. I still have 1/3 of a pan left, and sneaking into the kitchen for a slice feels so good. Even better was just sitting down, eating 1/4 of the pan in one delicious sitting - just basking in the sublime chocolaty richness of it all. No guilt, just pure pleasure. 
• I had my first seizure that required me to miss class of the semester. I can't believe I went so long without one, and that my body had the good sense to time it so I missed my ethics class (I hate every bit of its trite pretentiousness). Personally, I think this is my bodies way of rewarding me for feeding it brownies.

The Brownie Injustice

In general, Zach and I are fairly evenly matched. We're similarly intelligent, have similar senses of humor and the like. But in one very important area, he fully surpasses me. The man has a crazy high metabolism. I eat something non green and leafy, and suddenly my pants don't button up anymore. Zach eats the same meal, only twice as much, and somehow has to move his belt down a notch. It is in no way, shape, or form fair.

And he does not appreciate this gift. At all. He doesn't need to, but he prefers to eat like a 16 year old girl dreaming of the size 2 prom dress. He prefers that everything, even nice, normal baked goods like cinnamon roles be made with wheat flour. He doesn't like red meat - just lean chicken and fish. He eats fruit for dessert! He doesn't really like ice cream, cookies, cake or any of your basic sweets. It just isn't right.

It drives me crazy. At the very least, I should be able to use his metabolism for my own benefit. I should be able to make a delicious tray of whatever I'm craving, eat enough to satisfy me, and count on him to eat the rest and save me from myself. Instead, I have to face up to the fact that any and all sweet things are only in the house to satisfy my own cravings - usually the guilt and shame is just too much, and I won't even bother making whatever I'm craving.

But not today. Today, I needed brownies. I needed rich, chocolaty goodness. And heaven help me, nothing, especially not something as ridiculous as metabolism injustices was going to stop me. Not even my own guilt.

Which is why, whether he likes in or not, he is eating at least 1/3 of these brownies. And if there is any justice at all in the world, he will gain some weight. Seriously, that pan is like 5000 calories. This is why people make brownies from mixes - when you know that brownies are really fat, chocolate and sugar with a little bit of flour, its almost gross. Almost.

Don't look behind you!

Our bathroom is a little like a horror movie. It's always been a little dank and depressing, with its chipped tile and permanently foggy mirror. Not to mention the other worldly groans coming from the plumbing. It doesn't help that to get in or out of the bathroom you have to go through the closet, and the thought of what might be lurking in the clothes is not a comforting thought. But with the recent addition of an eerily flickering light, the horror factor has been pushed over the top. I now say a little prayer of protection every time I enter, and look heavenward in gratitude when I leave alive.

The worst part is when you bend over and look downwards into the sink. I'm familiar enough with the basic tenants of horror movie to know with an absolute surety that when you look away from a mirror and look back, something horrifying will be in the mirror. In the best of circumstances I try to maintain eye contact with the mirror at all times, bit with the addition of the flickering light, I've found myself forced to stay extra vigilant. A few times, I've been so scared, that I kept my eyes shut until I felt my way out of the bathroom and away from whatever may have been lurking therein. This lasted until I accidentally touched a towel, thought it was another person in the room with me, and freaked out. My fist wailed against the assailant who had melded into the hard surfaces of the wall and I shrieked with all the power and fear I could muster. I swear the mirror cracked a little bit, but all this really accomplished was annoyed bangs on the wall from my oh so concerned neighbors, and a sore hand.

The sad thing is, I almost never watch horror movies. When I tried watching What Lies Beneath, I ended up making the person I was watching it with change the DVD so it was going at 16x speed forward, and they would sum up what was happening. I still had nightmares. Most of the time when I find myself peer pressured into one, I can rely on the tried and true method of keeping my hands over my eyes. Unfortunatly, as part of the curse of being a curious person, I do have a tendency to read summaries of horror movies on wikipedia. I know that actually watching them will destroy my ability to function like a normal human being after dark, but surely just finding out what happens can't be bad? If anything, with my ample imagination I probably come up with worse scenarios than I would get if I just let the directors do the work for me. Zach made the mistake of once asking exactly what I was so afraid of. I told him in great detail exactly what might have happened to me. He's a rational, scoffing kind of guy, but even so I don't think he slept much that night. I'm a very effective imaginary fear evangelist.

So what I'm saying is that if you come to visit and the bathroom is a little messy, its only because I've been unable to clean in order to avoid a horrific death. That is all.