"YES"vember

Proving once again that sometimes all you have to do is ask, November became a month of "yes's" for me, both personally and professionally.

After several months of career-limbo, I decided to put my fate in my own hands. I had been straddling departments at work, part time foreclosure part time litigation. I knew that foreclosure work would pigeon hole me and potentially ruin my shot at ever getting a different job. I also knew, through the grapevine, that they were considering hiring a new litigation attorney. (Turns out they weren't "considering" - they already had the ad running). If I had waited any longer, this blog would certainly be different. I can't remember the exact date, but I do know that I had a game plan for that day and when I arrived at work, I put it into motion.

I first went to the office of the head litigation attorney, Nancy. She is not a partner at the firm, but she was my first choice because I had to make sure she would want me in her department before I started making waves elsewhere. Immediately I knew I had done the right thing. "Yes" she said "We would love to have you." Together we formulated a game plane of who to talk to next and what to say. At 9:15, Steve arrived at work, and he was the next partner on my list to talk to. "Yes" he said. "I think it makes perfect sense to let you switch. I'll change the ad we have running. We'll replace you in your current foreclosure position." It was all going so smoothly I could hardly believe I was nervous to ask! Finally, I had to talk to my current boss, Doug, the partner in charge of foreclosure. Notorious for dodging "uncomfortable" situations, Doug was both my most difficult meeting and the easiest. I knew he would never say "No" because he can't, but I also knew that I couldn't necessarily take that what he would say as a "yes."

I left Doug's office feeling like I did all I could. He had said that he thought that my move would be "fine" and that was the most I could hope for. After several follow ups with the attorneys I had met with, it seemed all was on track for my move. (A month later, it still does. I have seen them interview several potential candidates AND I have been informed I'll be interviewing several litigation assistants for MYSELF in the very near future!!!)

With my career on the right path I was happy to hear I had more "yes" moments on the way. Specifically, I had confirmed that Devin would be coming home for Thanksgiving. My happiness was bittersweet, as it is always my hope that the ENTIRE family will be together. Though Dylan, Brandon and Amy were missed dearly, I had a wonderful week spent with mom, dad and Devin. Pictures to follow, as mom and Devin have done a good job of describing our adventures!

A Sober October

The celebration of September spilled over into the early weeks of October, as two of our friends from law school decided to engage in silly behavior and get married. I was happy for it because it meant a mini-law school reunion (Amanda flew in for the weekend) complete with free alcohol and food.

After the weekend I had revolving around the wedding, I was ready for a change. And so was my liver. I spent the next two weeks upholding a vow of sobriety. I enjoyed it. My face was less puffy and I think I might have lost some weight. But most importantly, I proved to myself that it isn't hard to pass up a drink every now and again. This explains the lack of action photos for October.

My plan was to bust out of sobriety just in time for Halloween but the calendar was not on my side this year. Halloween fell on a Wednesday and though we all had big plans, our work-centered lives overshadowed the hope of having a great time. Thank goodness we celebrated at work, otherwise it would've been a very hollow Halloween. The view from outside my office:

A Month Worth Marvelling

I won't say who has hounded me all week to blog...but it worked. Here you go.

It's no secret that this is my favorite month. Twenty-nine days lead up to the best day of the year, September 30. Who cares if that sounds self-indulgent. Anyone who has ever met me or spent any amount of time with me knows how important my bday is for me. But this month gave me lots of reasons to celebrate.

On September 12th I awoke to nauseau and butterflies. Missouri bar results were scheduled for release - mid-morning we were told. As a treat for what could be either the worst or best day of our life (relatively speaking), Katie and I went to Starbucks before we left for work. I rarely spend money on coffee - so this was a big deal. We gave each other a supportive hug and went on our respective ways to work. Lucky for me, Katie's work is a mere 10 minutes away and she arrived in time to check if results were posted before I had even made it half way to work. So when my cell phone rang at 8:15 that morning - and identified Katie as the caller - I knew it could only be one thing. I was thankful she could deliver the news to me, that I had passed, that she had passed...in fact anyone I knew that I took the bar with had passed. It was time to celebrate. Oh wait. It was time to go to work.

Twelve hours later, the celebration was winding down. Our behavior had detiorated from that of the most recent addition to a profession of the highest integrity, to...well, you can see for yourself:

(We're eating wings)

Eight days later, and I found myself in a much more respectable celebration. On Thursday, September 20 I took the Oath of Admission in Jefferson City, Missouri to uphold the honor and integrity of the legal profession. I was more overcome with emotion than I thought I would be and when we were directed to give a moment of thanks to our family who supported us through the journey, I was unable to hold back the tears as I turned to look at mom. Thank you for being there then and every day before.

Left: signing the attorney register - Right: mom and I minutes before I swore in

Not to be forgotten- the highlight of my month. We started my birthday weekend by going to the LCD/Arcade Fire concert at Starlight. It couldn't have been better weather or a better time.

Saturday night my roommates through me a party to be remembered. Mom and dad were there early in the evening. They know better than to stay past the time when I might become embarassing. The party took flight to one of my new favorite bars, Jilly's, on 18th and Main. 80's dance music + birthday Adrienne = one good time. Thanks to everyone for another wonderful birthday!! Here are some relatively self-explanatory pics of my night:

This is what it sounds like

The 5:45 am alarm blasts too loudly to the first radio station I could find
It wakes me from a peaceful slumber of dreams I don't remember
(The 5:45 alarm is now the 6:45 alarm
I no longer need time to make coffee or watch tv.
The coffee at work is fine. The Today Show is for housewives.)

My bare feet shuffle on the cold hardwood floor to the fan in the corner
The fan switches click and suddenly the room is filled in an erie unsound
A few more shuffles to the shower and then water splashes on ceramic tile
An inaudible sigh escapes me. I'm awake.

Seven minutes later and the blow dryer seems to drones on. And on. And on.
I Tap tap tap at my makeup brush to remove the excess mineral powder
While I smudge my lower lid to blur the eyeliner line
This is as good as my face will look all day.

I sigh my first heavy sigh as I begin the click clack paths with my high heels
Closet to mirror. Closet to mirror.
Do I wear this skirt with this shirt? Maybe this shirt with those heels...
Or those heels with that skirt...
Click clack. Click clack.

Eventually the Clicks follow the clacks out the door.
Reliably the engine of my Alero whirrs but does not purr.
And again another fan blasts away the heat of an Indian summer.
"Slowed traffic at the Grandview triangle; a wreck at I-435 and K-10"
One by one the traffic radio guys tell me the good news
I'm not on any of those roads. Ward Parkway has yet to fail me.

Twenty-five to twenty-nine minutes later I click and clack across the parking lot
I wait for the beep as I wave my security card by the backdoor
33 clicks and 33 more clacks up the three flights up stairs to my office
(The last clicks I make until lunch when I transcend the three flights to the first floor cafeteria)

"Good morning." "Good morning." "How are you?" "Fine. How are you?"
I am greeted and I greet as I swoosh by the three cubicles out in front of my office.
And finally, as if it is sighing along with me, the air escapes from my leather desk chair as I sit down.

I'm here. I'm at work. I'm an attorney.

And that is what it sounds like.

Goodbye L-town

Tonight is my official last night in Lawrence. It's pretty weird. Well, anti-climactic is a better word. After lastnight's shenanigans I guess it is for the better that I take it easy tonight. I spent the day packing up my house with my dear mother who slaved away right along with me. Dad came just in time for dinner. I'm delighted we chose Johnny's down the street. Though it may not serve the finest food or maintain a level of cleanliness required by city code, it's a Lawrence establishment and the first place I had a beer with Amanda just over three years ago.

I finished up the night with my neighbors, Jesse and Dilly, watching a little television. I forgot what watching television was like. I don't think I even miss it. But I will miss those boys. I will miss not being able to walk around the front of my duplex and walk into their side of the house. They always greet me in a way that makes me know they're actually glad I'm there.

Now I'm laying in my empty room wondering what I can wonder about. It's actually weird that for the first time in I really don't know how long, I don't have to think about something. Sure there are big changes to come, but tomorrow I'm going on vacation. I should be more specific - my body will be re-locating to Denver for the weekend; my brain's been on vacation since yesterday at 3:00pm.

Thank you to each of you for your support during all of this. You mean the world to me. I couldn't have done it without you.

Goodnight, Lawrence.

I'm over it

In one week this madness is going to be over.

I can't imagine the relief I'll feel. I'm sure those closest to me will feel the reverberations of relaxation -- even those of you so far away, I'm sure you'll feel it too.

Today I hit a wall. I think I've hit at least three brick walls in the last two weeks. It's painful when you hit them because each time I wasn't expecting them. Once it happened when I expended most of a day studying one rule-laden subject with little pay off in practice test performance. It happened today because...well, who knows. I'm tired. I can't memorize everything. I'm lonely. The law is my only companion and right now the law is my enemy. Makes for some interesting open-ended, explitive-filled conversations with myself. Wouldn't you all like to be a fly on the walls of mom and dad's house right now...?

I called my mommy and daddy to cry about it. Instant therapy. I took a shower and then I did what every blue girl does -- blasted the radio and danced around the house singing to silly pop music.

Thank you, Katherine McPhee for reminding me just how "over it" I am today.

It's so SKI-Z!

A day on the lake is EXACTLY what I needed. It reminded me of my deep-seeded goal to one day own a house on the lake with a boat! Thanks to our generous professor, Katie, Dan, Jesse and I headed out to Clinton Lake yesterday for a day far away from BarBri woes. Here we are, sans Jesse who refused to be in pictures. Don't we look happy as clams to be here?

Dan and Katie are funny. A very competitive couple. Dan thinks Katie sucks at skiing, as shown below.

Unfortunately I failed to capture the essence of Dan's complete yard sale (to borrow a word from the snow-skiing vernacular which is used to describe a very hard fall in which the skiier loses multiple items from their person, such as skiies, poles, gloves, snow hat, etc). Suffice it to say, he's no better than Katie.

Then it was my turn. Here I am, waiting in the water. Reminding myself to think positively and visualize nothing but me skiing beautifully on glassy water. Well, it wasn't exactly glass that day, but it was pretty darn nice.

And just like that...I was up!!!

You can clearly tell from this picture on the right that I was leaning back a little too far and keeping my legs too far apart. Inevitably, I fell very soon.

But don't worry folks, I got right back up. Two or three more times. The last time I was giding beautifully in the wake. After a minute or so, I finally got brave enough to attempt to get out of the wake but that's when I fell again. This time, for the last time. I was pretty happy with myself. And now I've got a goal for next time: get out of the wake and STAY out. And then maybe a jump...who knows?? :)

Here we are, on the way home. A trio who clearly had lots of fun! Thank you, Kansas, for one nice day on the lake!

Trying to catch a firefly

A few nights ago I found myself in the midst of one of those rare but amazing Kansas nights. No wind. No heat. Just wonderful. And mother nature's icing on the cake included a sky full of fireflies. As they illuminated the night, I found myself thinking fondly back to those days when I was just a little girl trying to catch a firefly.

Now I'm at a time in my life when the world is my oyster and I'm happy for that as much as one can be when the world is their oyster. Like the magic words from Reading Rainbow, I really can go anywhere and be anything. I know that. It is now up for me to decide what that anything is and where that anywhere is...and I realize that this process doesn't have to happen in a day or a month or a year. I can be 75 and still have an oyster or two out their waiting for me.

What troubles me the most in my quest at life is the nature of the lifestyles I've contemplated in these past days. They are nothing short of polar opposites. I cannot seem to find that "happy median." And if ever there was a term I used to hate ("happy median") I am certain I see the utility in it just now. The happy median is, after all, I believe where I could really find the most happiness -- right there in the middle of these two opposing lifestyles.

Let me be more specific. I want a successful career but I want to spend whole days and weeks working in the garden in my backyard. I want to know high profile people and have fabulous five-course dinners but I want to make homemade wood-fired pizza on the deck at my house on the farm for my kids and their dad. I want to make loads of money and wear expensive clothes and have my friends notice what I'm wearing but I want the people around me to care less about what I am wearing. I want a loft in the heart of all the happy hour action and gossip with my friends about work scandals but I want to pop open a bottle of wine and watch the sunset on a horizon full of nothing but open plains with my husband and hear how his day was.

I know their is a middle ground here. I know I will find it. But I'm painfully aware that going through the motions will probably get me more in the former than the latter.

When it comes to these kind of deep-rooted personal decisions, I'm always looking for a sign. I look for some odd little roadmap in the stars to lead me down the right path. And in that way, I'm very much like that little girl I once was, still just trying to catch a firefly...hoping I'll pick that something that illuminates my way when I'm not sure where to go and lights up my life in only the magical way a firefly can.

More than a Mother

I don't remember the exact moment when I realized that my mom was more than just a mom to me, but my best friend as well. I imagine it was a slow process...our relationship ever-evolving over time as I matured from an ungreatful teenager to the "woman" I am today. It's difficult, as I sit down on Mother's Day, to pick out one story that defines how much I love my mother. There have been many defining moments in our 25-year long friendship: hours spent together in the kitchen, the first trip out to LA to see my brothers, our trip to Chicago...the list goes on. I could write at length about any of these moments. But as I sit here, about to embark on a new chapter in my life, I am reminded of a a very fond time I spent with my mom.

Much like I expect this upcoming summer to be, I was in the midst of a very lonely summer in Manhattan in between my Sophomore and Junior years of college. I had decided to stay in Manhattan for the summer so I could keep my job at the mental health center and take a few classes. Expecting to have roommates for the summer, I subleased a room in an apartment with two friends from the dorms. Less than two weeks into the summer, however, they made better plans and headed for Kansas City, leaving me all alone in their apartment.

It was a grueling summer for me. I wasn't used to being alone. I sometimes felt like I literally had zero friends. I found myself looking forward to work so I would have someone to talk to -- something to take up time. I don't know how I found myself feeling so lonely. I did have a few friends in town, but somehow our schedules didn't meet up right and it left me with a lot of down time. A lot of down time.

It was during these moments that I began to lean on my mom more than I ever had before. I'm certain that a day didn't go by without me calling her and talking to her on the phone for as long as she would allot. In fact, I'm certain I might have called her more than once a day on the days I didn't work. I don't remember what we ever talked about. I'm sure the conversations often consisted of me reporting to her exactly what I did that day and her listening as though she really was interested in the fact that I washed my car or had done something else equally mundane.

I know my mom sensed my immense loneliness. Because it was summer, she had a relatively free schedule and offered to come stay with me for a weekend. Whether or not I outwardly jumped at the chance, I was extremely elated inside. I needed a friend and what a better friend to offer to spend time with me than the woman who shares half of everything that I am.

I don't remember what all we did that weekend. I have vague memories of taking walks around campus and having a few nice meals at my favorite restaurants. I remember she even sat at a laundromat and did my laundry while I went to work. (It goes without saying, my mother is an amazing woman). What I do remember is wishing she could stay and be my roommate for the rest of the summer, knowing all too well that I would be lonely Adrienne again when she left.

Ofcourse those lonely days dwindled down and before I knew it, I was back in the swing of my fast-paced college life. I had my friends back in town and I had a full load of classes and work that kept me busy...too busy to always answer my mom's calls. But as I learned that summer and am continually reminded of, my mom is never too busy to answer my calls. She is always there to answer life's easiest and hardest questions: "What temperature do I bake bread at?"..."When will I ever fall in love?"

Thank you, mom, for being there for me that summer. Thank you for being the very dearest friend I will ever have. I love you and Happy Mother's Day!

I'm flooded

After a weekend of heavy rains, many areas of Kansas are flooded or threatened with flooding. The Kansas River is my personal gem as I make my way around Lawrence. I have to cross the river to go just about everywhere in Lawrence and I look forward to it every time. I looked forward to it a little more today because I knew the water would be running high. I'm not sure where my fascination with flooding comes from. Knowing the devastation it caused over fifteen years ago to many parts of my life (the Ranch house, Lake Wilson, etc) you would think I wouldn't be the biggest fan of floods. Maybe the impact it had on me at such an early age gave me a great respect for the damage that massive amounts of water can cause. Who knows. I snapped these photos on my way to school this morning. It was pretty amazing and the photos don't do it justice -- especially if you're not familiar with the usual water level.

The one directly above on the left is the east side of the river bridge and there are usually gates up to control the flow of water. Today, the water is too high to block.

As I watched the river rage for nearly fifteen minutes, I couldn't help but address my feelings of being flooded lately. In every possible way. In less than two weeks, my dear older brothers and their plus ones will be travelling back to Kansas for my graduation. My extended siblings -- Andrea and Travis -- will be there as well. As I think about the time we'll be spending together, I am flooded with emotions of joy and excitement. I can't imagine ever looking forward to a time more in my life. Sometimes I forget the personal milestone I'll be reaching. Sometimes I am flooded in the sadness of knowing they will be leaving all too soon.

I am also flooded in my own world, with both "work" and relationships. As I near the end of the semester, and seemingly have very little to do (finish a paper), I make a checklist in my mind of everything I really have to do and I begin to feel a little overwhelmed. Flooded, if you will.

I've never felt so flooded with relationships either. At a time when myself and those around me are gearing up for big changes, we all sense the urgency to hang out and spend as much time together as possible. To soak up these moments before the drought that inevitably will follow our graduation. And I'm suddenly flooded in my relationships with two very important males in my life. One who you've all heard of by now - Casey - who happens to make it his personal mission to flood my life in every way possible -- with time spent together, with sappy text messages, with flowers, the list goes on. And while I've made room in my life to appreciate these things, it seems the one area he cannot flood me with is the one area I'm dying without: a little personality. I find myself starved for a joke or sarcastic comment when I'm with him. Like a dried out plant, when I find a source of laughter, I soak it up in overwhelming amounts. This weekend I recognized one of my biggest sources of laughter as my very dear friend, Dakota. A boy who has been in my life for several years, often playing many different roles as friend or maybe something more. But timing has never been right with him. He couldn't be more opposite of Casey, both physically and personally.

As I sat with Dakota at a bar on Saturday night, doubled over in laughter, I couldn't help but think about my life 50 years from now when Casey's height and good looks mean nothing to me. Who will flood my life with joy? I feel like I'm at a crossroads - not wishing to hurt either's feelings but understanding I must consider my own. But there is no hurry, I cannot fight the heavy currents this early. For now, I'm being flooded and I think I like it.

Well, pink is my favorite color...

I've contemplated about whether to blog about this for a few days. But today I just couldn't help myself. This morning I woke up to Janie barking in my bed and seconds later, my alarm went off. Thinking that Janie just anticipated the alarm, I slowly crawled out of bed, in no hurry to get around. After putting on my robe, I heard Amanda close the front door and yell to me "something for you at the door, Adrienne!" I rushed out of my room and there in Amanda's hands were these:

So Casey has stepped up to bat (pardon the extremely cheesy pun, I couldn't help it). He got me a dozen pink roses for my last day of law school classes -- don't get me wrong, it is a momentous occasion, but not one that I ever thought would deserve a gesture of this magnitude. This was really just the icing on the top of one of the most bizarre two weeks ever. And now, in less than one week after breaking up with his girlfriend, he has attempted to spend time with me in just about every waking moment that he's not studying (which thankfully, he studies a lot). It has been extremely convenient for me to put him off, using the excuse that he shouldn't be rushing into something so quickly after a break up.

But the flowers got me thinking today. Why is it so hard to make space for somone like him in my life? I's not really about the ex. It's really about all this: It's scary, it's anxiety-causing, it's fun, it's wierd, it's everything that puts nausea-inducing butterflies in your stomach. And frankly, I'm about two seconds away from running and hiding in a corner.

And then I realize that's where I've really been for the last five years. In a corner. Where opportunities are hard to come by. So I'm moving out. I'm making my way into the big scary world. And if Casey wants to come along, I'm not going to discourage him. Not yet, at least.

bELATED

An early morning update of the three blogs I read urged me to write about my own well-wishes for my parent's 34th Anniversary. I have to admit, I have a poor record for remembering my parent's anniversary, let alone actually commemorating it with a gift or otherwise. This year was no different. I called my mom on the 18th to tell her something (unimportant, I'm sure) when she kindly reminded me of the significance of the following day. So instead of forgetting again like I would normally do, I decided to make this Anniversary the beginning of a new era in which I will make it my mission to ensure that every Anniversary from here on out is adequately recognized for the astonishing achievement that it is! (Or, in the alternative, I will remember to send a card every year...)

Thursday, April 19 was a beautiful day in this part of the country that mom, dad and I call home. I was in a good mood. I didn't have much going on. I decided to call dad and craft a plan to surprise mom for their Anniversary. Dad informed me that he and mom didn't really have any plans for the evening but that they'd probably go out for dinner. I told him I'd make it over to their house about the same time he would be returning home from golf practice...and most importantly, I ordered him not to tell mom that I was coming.

At 6:00 I headed out my door to make the 35 minute drive to my parents house. I called mom and wished her a "Happy Anniversary" and told her to have a nice evening with dad. She asked what I was doing, I said I was just driving home from school (lie). We talked a little longer and then I said I had to go because I was finally at home. Then I called dad to tell him I was on my way and would be arriving shortly.

The drive was short -- as it always is -- because I generally spend that time on the phone catching up with out of town friends. I talked to Chrisy almost the entire way. I pulled up to my parents house and parked across the street. I ran up to the front door and rang the door bell. I didn't know what was going on inside at the time, but dad found a way to make sure mom answered the door (something she apparently never does). When she opened the door it was a progression of emotions. Mom can go from zero to tears of joy in a matter of seconds. And she did. First, it was shock...a smile....a joyous giggle...tears.

We had a lovely dinner at a fish restaurant inside the newly opened Bass Pro Shop near my parents house. We had a lovely conversation. I'm sorry we don't do that more often.

I'll close with the picture I snapped of mom and dad as they sat across from me at the restaurant. Here's to their Happy 34th and wishes of 34+ more years of the partnership they have formed and maintained so effortlessly.

the UNholiday

My friend Chrisy and her husband, Tony, flew into Kansas City on Thursday evening. On their way to Hays Friday morning they stopped off in Lawrence and picked me up so I could spend time with them while they were in the state. (They live in Dallas, TX now, in case you didn't know). I am always happy to spend time with the her family, mostly because I know I'll be fed more food than I ever need to eat. This weekend was no different. In fact, I think the whole weekend was centered on the meals Pam had planned to make us. It reminded me of mom and how excited she gets for her boys (and their plus ones) to come home, making her menu weeks in advance. It's very endearing.

The ride to Hays was interesting. Our friend, Lana, drove her Honda Civic two-door with Chrisy, Tony and I as her passengers. We stopped in Salina to pick up Chrisy's sister, Michelle, (She says, "HI Brandon") and thus capacity in the honda was at its max. I include a picture of the SNOW we encountered in Salina. It was April 6 and apparently mother nature decided this was a good time for a blizzard. Note the blooming purple tree in the center.

Anyway, we had a great weekend. I was able to see my friend Tara who recently had her first baby, Carter. What a cutie. Though I was a little concerned with the onesy he was wearing: "Roe v. Wade Survivor." Things are very different in Hays...I often forget that. I also went to a wedding shower for my friend, Nicki. She was a member of the very exclusive "BBF" when we were in high school. A group of friends, consisting of Me, Chrisy, Tiona, Nicki, Angie and Tara. The name came from a drunken Tara who exclaimed to us one night that she loved her BBF when she really meant BFF which everyone knows stands for "Best friends forever." The name stuck. And now, seven years later, Nicki is the last of the BBF to get married...besides me.

We also spent several hours dying Easter Eggs, which is obviously a practice I usually don't partake in anymore, but when in Rome...The eggs were actually quite immaculate when Pam decided to get out her glitter and other bedazzling trinkets! Fred, Chrisy's dad, was worried about what all the glitter would do to these eggs he'd be eating the next day. I casually responded, "No worries, Fred. You'll just be shitting glitter." I k i d y o u n o t. It got a great response! Here Chrisy and I are with an easter basket of our prized eggs!

Saturday night was a hit! We attended "New Beer's Eve" at Gella's; a celebration for a new beer they were releasing. I've included a picture of the new beer here. (Ok, that's a lie. This is actually the Lemon Ale which is much better than the new beer. Sorry, Gella's).

Originally, my weekend in Hays was to end on Saturday evening. I had convinced mom and dad to come to Hays as well so we could leave Saturday, as opposed to Sunday afternoon when I could catch a ride with Chrisy, etc. But Chrisy begged me to stay so I let mom and dad off the hook. The main reason I didn't want to stay in Hays was to avoid "Easter Sunday." I knew it was going to be a big deal at Chrisy's house -- they were expecting 20 some family members. But, I put my foot down and did not go to church, instead I just partook in the elaborate brunch buffet prepared by Pam and other family members.

Odd is in the Air

I love living in Lawrence (sorry Dad). On any given day, you can take a walk down Mass Street and experience all arrays of human behavior: a young couple, walking hand in hand basking in the glory of their newfound undergraduate love; the crack addict begging for change; and ofcourse, the Lawrence hippie reeking of Patchuli (sp) and unwashed, dreaded hair.

Today, however, as I sit in the Borders Café typing a paper, I am privy to one of the most bizarre scenes I’ve witnessed in my three years here. Across the street, outside of the Java Break Café, are a group of four dancers, three females and one male. All dressed in black, each donning a black mustache reminiscent of the Charlie Chaplin (thanks, Brandon) style mustache. They are dancing about in an almost trance-like style, some clutching paper coffee cups as though they are in worship. At times, the pace picks up as though they are seizing, yet in a controlled manner.

I’ve been watching this scene now for almost fifteen minutes and I am completely in awe. I can’t stop watching. And I’m not the only one. The twenty-some other patrons of the Borders Café are also watching in awe and attempting to understand the scene going on just a mere streets’ width away. A lady just exclaimed that it is probably part of some dance spotlight going on in the city. I’m doubtful. I mean, this is weird.

I’ve attempted to capture the scene with my trusty razor cell phone camera but ofcourse it falls short of giving you any idea of just how bizarre this is. Nonetheless, here is the photo, so you can at least get an idea...the blur of people across the street are those other observors watching in awe. You are maybe able to see one of the dancers dressed in black. Perhaps even more exciting are the budding trees. Yay for spring!!

WNN0438

My next door neighbor, Jesse, and I enjoy reminiscing about our farm childhoods. Only those who were lucky enough to spend their youth in rural Kansas can exchange the unique stories that accompany such a lifestyle: hour long drives to get warm pizza, burning the trash, walking for miles in any direction before finding your nearest neighbor, a gas station in your own back yard (or in our case, an ice skating rink), any relative in a 30-mile radius was your "best friend" and so on...

This particular evening, Jesse and I were talking about the technology of farm living. He was actually admitting that he recognizes the utility of cell phones in the farm setting and didn't know what they ever did without them. Which quickly led us both to laugh about the days of radios and walkie-talkies. And before I even realized the random sequence of numbers and letters that were entering my head, I blurted them out: WNN0438. And there they were. The numbers of my childhood. Those numbers flooded back memories of me radio'ing back to the house because I had stalled the four-wheeler somewhere and couldn't restart it; taking a call from dad who was in a hot tractor somewhere letting us know he'd be home soon; Brandon and Devin getting into walkie-talkie fights about who knows what...I even remember a time when we took the walkie-talkies on vacation and I got in trouble for spouting out the code. To this day I'm not sure why that was bad. Maybe someone can fill me in?

Aww farm life. I wouldn't trade that upbringing for the most privileged childhood in the world. And I mean that (just in case mom or dad wants to challenge me on that statement...)

Seventh Year Senior Syndrome

Never one to let go of my psychology roots, I recently diagnosed myself with a very serious disorder: Seventh Year Senior Syndrome (SYSS). Though the incident rate of SYSS is high amongst my fellow law school classmates, SYSS is a rather rare syndrome. At it's earliest stage, fifth-year senior syndrome, it affects those few (or slacker) college students who choose to stretch out their undegraduate to a fifth year. However, if further schooling must be pursued, there is a 99.9% chance the syndrome will develop into full-blown SYSS.

SYSS manifests itself in many different ways. Its effects are most prominent whenever an SYSS sufferer must enter the law school, talk about law school, or attempt to find a legal job. Most SYSS sufferers cope with its effects by limiting appearances at law school to as few as possible(note this does not mean class-skipping), frequent outbursts damning the law school to a fiery place, frequent party-planning/attending, day drinking at the crossing and late-night partying with other SYSS sufferers. SYSS sufferers do not limit their coping mechanisms to alcohol, however. In fact, being the perfectionists that most SYSS sufferers are, many turn to exercise. Yoga classes are over-crowded with eager SYSS sufferers who are ready to sweat out the law school toxins in their bodies. Sunny days in Lawrence equals crowds of SYSS sufferers walking/running around downtown, soaking up the sun in order to burn away more toxins. Nonetheless, many of these activities may soon turn ugly. After any given yoga class, you may find an SYSS sufferer peer-pressuring others to blow off their school responsibilities and go to dinner on Mass street...followed by a few beers at a random bar... 'til passouts do you part.

The treatment, ofcourse, is relatively simple: stop going to school. Thankfully, my treatment is on it's way. By May 20 of this year, they say I'll virtually be cured of my SYSS. And it really couldn't come at a more fortunate time.

So these...these are the best years of our lives

Friday, March 2 was a blustery and chilly day. I sprung out of bed and headed to the law school to do some last minute work on the finishing touches of that evening's Barrister's Ball (aka Law Prom). Giddy with excitement, I smiled everyone I passed on my walk into the building and followed that up with "Hey, you coming to the Ball tonight?" The response was usually in the affirmative. To which I'd say, "Great. It's going to be such a good time."

The truth was, I didn't actually know if it would be a good time. For months, the five brave soles spearheading this event (Dan, Katie, Lindsey, Christel and I) had been focusing all of our efforts on making this an event that people would look back on and say it was one of their best times in law school. But whenever you take on the responsibility for planning a "good time," it's inevitable you'll worry it will be anything but that. Not to mention, we weren't putting on this event for the normal population. Law students are notorious for being hard to please. I guess it's the competitive nature in all of us that makes them think "I could have done this better."

I had to put my anxiety to the side as I checked the office messages, paid some bills and set off to purchase wrist bands. Besides, in less than an hour, I'd be leaving for Manhattan, KS to see Prez Bill speak. (Great time, btw. Such a brilliant man).

Fast forward to 6:45 pm as I sprint back into my house, returning from Manhattan. I was supposed to be ready and at the ball by 7:30. As I sprinted through my get ready routine, I was aware that the focal point for the night would have to be the shoes and dress I purchased rather than hair and makeup. I walked out the door a little passed 7:30, anxious to imbibe in the good time I had promised so many people.

And boy was it ever. Three hours later, I was swimming in a sea of law students plus one all dressed to the nines. (One girl was even wearing her pageant dress...wow!) The floor was coated in beer, wine and chunks of wine glass. And the dj was playing hip hop's finest selection. Though it started classy it ended just like we wanted. I couldn't have been more proud and with every turn I took that night there was someone there greating me with "this is so fun!" It wasn't a thank-you, but it was better than that. It was sincere.

Sweat Fest

Another weekend has come and gone. Sunday night blues have set in, but I've managed to accomplish something this weekend that has left me feeling a little better than I normally would at 10:30 pm on a Sunday night. Thanks to my roommate I discovered the world of hot yoga today (otherwise known as Bikram yoga). Hot yoga is a series of poses totalling a 90-minute workout, done in a room that is normally around 105 degrees. Though I had heard of it before, I really had no clue what to expect.

Today was Amanda's third trip and she had made several recruits beyond me: our friends Dan, Katie, Christel and Jessie went along as well and all were also first-timers like me. I was glad to know that even though I'd be doing yoga with a veteran group of Lawrence hippies I would at least have a few rookies on my side.

Upon arrival, the instructor explained the few rules: no talking during class, no drinking water until we are told to do so and absolutely NO LEAVING THE ROOM during class -- if you get light-headed or worse, just sit down on your yoga mat. That had me worried, but I've been training for a half-marathon for a solid month now and figured I could probably handle whatever he threw at us.

Was I ever wrong. We took our positions on our mats and towels in the very hot room. I don't know if it was 105 degrees, but it was hot enough to be uncomfortable. Sweating like a pig was inevitable. Fifteen minutes into the series we had managed to accomplish the warm-up breathing exercise. WARM-UP?!? I was already exhausted. My eyes were on fire from the sweat that I couldn't stop from rolling down my forehead. (Side note: apparently the other yoga teacher has another rule: absolutely no wiping off the sweat from your body).

There were many times during the first 45 minutes that even though my body might have been capable of performing the desired position I was so physically drained I could do no more than bend over and stare at the floor so as not to pass out. Just when I was thinking I was in over my head (sometimes literally...) the instructor explained that we had finished the standing part of the series and would now move to the floor. I had never been so relieved in my life. I didn't care what crazy poses we'd be doing on the floor, there was NO WAY it would be as difficult as the standing poses we'd been doing for 45 minutes.

I wasn't completely wrong. It was still harder than anything I'd done and I still couldn't perform half of the moves but the Shavasana pose was the key difference for the floor exercises. After every difficult pose, we would be released into the Shavasana (the corpse pose): lying on our backs, heels touching and toes pointing up at 45 degree angles with arms at our sides and palms up. Possibly the most relaxing position I've ever encountered -- and I intend to sleep that way tonight though I'm extremely aware of how difficult it is for me to sleep this way.

The end of the 90-minute yoga series brought with it much happiness for me and relief. I was proud of myself for making it through and excited about the opportunity to do it again...even though I had to wash every last item of clothing I was wearing immediately upon returning home because each piece was soaked in my sweat!

I have the cake and I get to eat it too!

I woke up to a very important phone call this morning at 8:15 am. I didn't answer...I was nervous for what the caller had to say and I didn't want to have groggy morning voice either.

Wednesday afternoon I had an interview with the head of Medicaid Appeals at Legal Aid. The interview was somewhat intense and I had to answer such questions as how much my student loans were and if I could live on $34,500 salary. All in all, I thought I took the interview in stride and had the right answers for at least 90% of the questions. At the end of the interview, Gregg asked me if I'd be available for a second interview next week. (He wasn't promising the interview, but wanted to make sure of my availability in case they selected me for a second). I eagerly said yes and spouted off that I'd be available Thursday afternoon and all day Friday, March 2. I didn't think about it again until Gregg e-mailed the following day (Thursday) asking for a second interview and detailing the interview schedule for all of Friday afternoon, March 2. And that's when it dawned on me what else I had scheduled for Friday, March 2.

Two weeks ago I found out that the man, Prez. Bill C, was giving a lecture in Manhattan at 3:30 Friday, March 2. I was ecstatic. I made it my mission to get tickets to go. Using my own resources, I would have never gotten those tickets, but luckily I've got friends in high places. My friend's dad is the head of the KS Dem Party and Tuesday night (the night before my interview) I received the call that we all had tickets. Woo hooo.

Fast forward to the e-mail detailing my interview schedule for Friday, March 2. The ball dropped. I really did start crying. I couldn't believe that I might miss Bill because I had to do a three-hour interview for a place that wasn't even going to pay me in one year as much as Bill charges for one appearance. I frantically drafted an e-mail asking for a reschedule. I had to consult several friends before I finalized the e-mail and sent it. It was about one hour into sending the e-mail out (into the wild blue yonder) that I started to panic. What had I done? I was certain that I'd receive the following reply e-mail:

"Dear Adrienne, You have demonstrated that you are not interested in this job. We no longer need you to come in for a second interview."

I know I'm crazy. But for about two hours, I had a permanent I'm-going-to-throw-up-feeling. But the reality is I received a reply e-mail several hours later saying that it was understandable and an attempt to reschedule was under way.

Again, fast forward to this morning and the phone call. I anxiously awaited the voicemail notification. And there it was: the interview had been rescheduled for this Monday. I GET TO GO SEE BILL AND DO THE INTERVIEW.

Thank you, karma. I knew I deserved one in my favor!

Invasion of the Elderly

Everywhere you turn in the Capital today there are old people wearing bright yellow t-shirts with AARP written across the chest. It's kind of fun. I love old people. Except they are sort of clogging up the hallways and areas near elevators with their slow walking and absolute refusal to take the stairs. (I took the four flights of stairs all the way up to the 5th floor this morning, I'll have you know, to deliver the Senator her limeade in exchange for her laptop).

I was sitting at my little desk when a man walked in to give the Senator one of these bright yellow tees and to my surprise, it was someone I knew: my aunt Lisa's father, Jerry. I tried to explain to him who I was, but I don't think he really understood -- and he also couldn't hear me very well. So although he said he'd tell Lisa he saw me, I doubt that really ever happens. Oh well.

Other than that, I'm somewhat bored and distracted today. As always, I'm in a constant state of anxiety about what lays ahead for me career-wise. I have a second interview tomorrow with Legal Aid in the Medicaid Appeals Department. I'm excited about it, though I'd rather work in the domestic division, I'm not going to be too choosy at this point. Anyway, having a second interview has given me some hope that this might work out. Inevitably, I am prematurely planning how life will be if I get this job...where I'll live (Rivermarket, KC), how I'll budget my money (financial planning?) -- more importantly, how I'll afford the warddrobe I always pictured myself wearing as a successful attorney.

It's hard to explain how planning for the future consumes me...but here's an example. About six weeks into every semester, the law school posts the class schedules and final exam schedules for the following semester. Enrollment isn't until about another month later, but literally the first day the schedules are posted I have already determined what classes I will take and made sure that I will have a good finals schedule, etc. I get a lot of shit for this from my friends.

This type of behavior applies to almost any situation in my life. I'm a planner. I want to know the schedule, I want to have a path, I want to know what I'll wear on that path. Maybe soon I'll finally know what that path is after law school because as you can imagine, this not knowing stuff is driving me crazy!

Crude Awakening

Valentine's Day isn't a problem for me. I'm not a single "bitter" girl who has a hard time with this day and until about an hour ago, I didn't expect to spend any part of my day crying over past loves or wishing I had one right now. I woke up and began my usual routine. Bathroom, coffee, couch to check e-mail. E-mail is a routine in itself. Yahoo (where I rarely receive any important or personal e-mails) then my KU account which will signal me to any e-mails I might have on Facebook or MySpace. Today I didn't make it past the Yahoo account for quite some time.

There in my in-box, one new e-mail, From: Adrian ******, Subject: Hola.

Typical. It's always something so lame never giving me any warning as to what the message inside my hold.

I took a deep breath. And pondered whether to even open it.

Two months and twenty-seven days ago (yes I remember it to the day), Adrian was in town for the K-State v KU game. His brother lives next door to me...not just next door-I-can-walk-across-my-yard-to-ring-your-doorbell-next door but next-door-we-share-a-common-wall, duplex-next-door. Needless to say, that little arrangement has given me enough problems to begin with, let alone having Adrian actually here.

Inevitably, we hung out. We have many mutual friends and ofcourse the mutual and, rare for Lawrence, allegiance to K-State. Because I'm a girl, I assumed any affection he showed for me that weekend was us "re-kindling" our past relationship and allowed myself to indulge in what would come even though I should have known better by now. We didn't talk about "us" that weekend, though I felt for sure we were on the same page...until I didn't hear from him for almost two weeks when he then sent me one of those damn "Hola" e-mails apologizing for not talking to me sooner ("I was busy with the Holiday" -- Thanksgiving) but wanted me to know he had a great time hanging out with me. It was a short e-mail. I knew from the e-mail that whatever I thought was going on was all in my head. But unlike everytiime before, I wasn't letting him off that easy.

This time, I pushed him to tell me he didn't want a relationship with me. And though the final e-mail I received from him was less than even I expected (and I always expect him to say as little as possible), he still managed to get it out that he didn't "want" any kind of relationship. (He put the quotes around "want", not me...imagine the girl-analyzing that went into that one.)

Regardless of how disappointing this e-mail was to me, I had one good, stiff cry that night and then I put it behind me. I did not write back and I have not called him since and though he texted me once (Christmas Day: "Merry Christmas") and has been here in Lawrence once (Last week for the K-State v. KU basketball game) I have had absolutely no contact with him. I'm proud of myself for that. I'm not proud of the fact that the day I saw his car next door last week I immediately cried -- because that obviously means I still have some lingering feelings. But I didn't get drunk and call him or "accidentally" bump into him next door.

Which brings me to this lame e-mail he sent me today. And it was lame. Aside from the usual niceties, he did wonder if we were still on speaking terms ("I haven't heard from you since November...") and wants to hear from me.

Blogging about this has really made me feel better. I think I have two options for the return e-mail. #1. No e-mail at all. The inference would then be that indeed, we are NOT on speaking terms or #2. The body of the e-mail would consist entirely of "No."

We'll see how feisty I feel...

The road I've always traveled...

This morning I had an interview with a former KU Law student who was a 3L when I was a 1L. I was interviewing for a position with Legal Aid of Western Missouri. As their website explains: "Legal Aid of Western Missouri (LAWMo) has been providing essential legal services to low-income citizens since 1964. LAWMo staff attorneys, paralegals and volunteers assist over 20,000 people each year with problems that seriously affect their ability to provide for themselves and their families."

I know what you're thinking...and it is a great job. The pay is what has made me pause: $33,000 plus benefits (what, I'm not sure). And again...not horrible...I mean, it is a paying job of which I seem to have a hard time coming by these days. But I paid twice as much for my legal education as that, so I guess I have higher expectations.

During the interview, it donned on me that whether I get this job or not, this is really my lot in life. And is it such a bad one? In fact, maybe it's the best option yet. To help others who cannot help themselves. Isn't that why I went to law school? I mean, I literally wrote in my "personal statement" to KU Law Admissions that the reason I was coming to school here was so that I could help those domestic violence victims and mentally ill people when I knew they couldn't do things for themselves. And here I am, interviewing for a job in which the main job description is providing legal service to domestic violence victims.

I probably shouldn't even be writing about this yet because I always have a fear of "jinxing" myself and now I'll think that if I don't get this job it's because I blogged about it. But the bottom line is, this is truely a job I could sleep at night doing. And while it may not be on 800 threadcount sheets on a sleep number King size bed, it'll be a bed nonetheless.

HPV Update

Just in case anyone cares...today as I was at the Senator's office a call came in and the secretary took it. The guy said he was calling in regards the HPV Bill and wanted to make known his position. He then began to quote from the book of Jeremiah and told Julia that "God will protect 6th grade girls from cancer...they don't need the shot."

It's times like these I wish I didn't live in Kansas :(

Edward 40 Hands

Last year playing Edward 40 Hands

Lastnight, my friend Dan thought it would be good to resurrect the fun we all had playing Edward 40 Hands the fall of our 2L year. And by "fun" I mean 60 minutes of good times followed by blackouts and passouts for the rest of the night. Edward 40 Hands is a simple game in which you duct tape two 40 ounce beers of your choice onto your hands so that you are unable to do much of anything except drink the beer. If you're really ghetto, your 40's will be of the malt variety: Mickey's, Olde English, etc. If you're me then you just try to get something you think you can pound 80 ounces worth in as short of time as possibe = Bud Light. I learned my lesson after the first round of Edward 40 Hands and chose to respectfully bow out this time around...mostly because I barely remember what happened that night, other than waking up in my own bed that next morning with a headache that wouldn't go away. Instead, I thought it would be much more fun to observe the madness. Amanda and I arrived at Dan's just as the first few people had taped on the 40's after having dinner and drinks at the Yacht Club for our next door neighbor's birthday. Dan's house is sort of the gathering place. He lives in a huge old house two blocks from Mass Street. Four boys live there and all date girls that are in law school (Amanda being one of those girls). I explain this because we always refer to the house as "1029" because that's the address: 1029 Kentucky Street. So for future reference, I'll probably call it 1029 and I didn't want anyone thinking that it was some cool new club :)

After all those participating had finished taping on their respective 40's the games began. It was like paparazzi had exploded at 1029. Anyone not playing was walking around fulfilling the wishes of all those with the 40 hands: "Oh take a picture of me and Katie -- wait, let me put my hands out like this so it's funnier..." You get the picture (no pun intended but what a nice surprise).

Whatever the case may be, this round of Edward 40 Hands was much more successful -- while there was the one case of girl crying for no reason, there really were no other problems and peole stayed up and out at the bars until closing, amazingly enough! Though I witnessed this phenomenon of incredible drinking, I still am happy I chose to go my own way and drink small quantities of beer and alcohol at a time, with the ability to set down that bottle at any time and do such things as go to the bathroom, eat food, take a picture and frolic about to the great playlist of 90's music Dan had procured for the evening's festivities.

Merck continued

I made it back to the Capital on Thursday afternoon to see the continued hearings on House Bill 2227 (the HPV shot bill). I made sure to leave with ample time and upon arriving to the 5th floor meeting room, found myself in quite the cluster fuck: one group trying to exit the room and simultaneously another group trying to enter (who incidentally had all been there the day before, understood there were few seats and were therefore pushing and shoving like school kids trying to get off the bus). As soon as I got into the room, I wasted no time taking the chair positioned in front of the Rep's desks and slightly in front of and away from all the other chairs. I figured people would think that chair was meant for someone who actually worked there and since I do have the name badge, why not let people think I was supposed to sit there :)

I heard testimony from a few more proponents but nothign exciting. Then the opponents. The first represented "Concerned Women of America" and though they have a silly name, she was a smart woman who made great points. If the State of Kansas mandates a shot, the residents of Kansas think that shot must be 100% effective, when it's not. She stressed caution, and I was beginning to feel cautious. The second opponent represented "Catholics for Kansas" and I just didn't really understand her argument but assume it's all about "abstinence is best" and this shot equals kids doin' it in the bathroom at school.

And that was it. The hearing was over. I wished I had heard some more heated arguments, but reality is that even the most controversial topics don't translate into the stuff that television is made of. I don't really know what I think about the mandate...but I guess it's probably a good idea. Until 10 years from now all these girls start having mutant babies, then I guess we all might have been wrong.

Merck saves the world!

Yesterday afternoon I sat in on a hearing before the House Committee on Health and Human Services in which people testified in favor of a bill requiring 6th grade girls to get the HPV shot. (And if you don't know about this shot you must not watch television, read magazines, etc. It is a vaccine for HPV, an STD that causes cervical cancer). WOOOO HOOOO! Nothing like a hearing about STD's to really get the day going! Minutes before the hearing, I'm sitting at my intern desk talking to the Senator's secretary about it -- she's for it, I'm not sure. I expected to go and hear corporate Merck people feed us all a bunch of propaganda about why this is so necessary when really they just want to make their dolla dolla billz ya'll. But no. I made the mistake of waiting until about 5 minutes before the meeting to go. Our office is on the first floor, east side and the hearing was on the fifth floor, south side. There are two, just two, elevators in the Cappy (that I know of). One is a historical "cage" elevator -- very popular with guests of the capital. At this particular moment, a line of 20 elementary school kids was waiting to get on so they could then take the rotunda tour. Elevator #2 wasn't much better, but I stood a chance of getting a ride within the next half hour. I ended up getting on with a Freshmen Rep who chatted about his nerves his first day on the floor and a random mix of lobbyists who I presume were going to the same hearing I was going to: Catholics for Kansas, National Organization for Women...you get the picture. It goes without saying that there was little bit of tension in the elevator but not nearly as much as what I experienced as I walked into the hearing room. Standing room only. Television cameras everywhere. I mean I thought this was goign to be interesting, but had I known I might make a television debut, I would've considered a look in a mirror before I walked in!

There is much more to this post but I lost the second half when the internet crashed on me. I'm too tired to write more now, but hopefully sometime soon.