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.