The House That Built Me

I'm facing the last few days I may ever have in my childhood home.  In certain ways, I have already been forced to say goodbye, but in others, it still contains the memories I have of my family and friends in the house.  In the back room I can see how we first had it arranged with my mom's home office on one side and my play office on the other.  The back room was where my dad saw a spider on my leg, started screaming and told my mom, "it's got her!" as if the spider was the end of my existence and there was nothing they could do to save me.  It was the first room that was repainted when we moved in back in 1993.  It's where I made up dance routines because it held our stereo.

  The spare room was where the Nordic track was kept along with the pull-out couch for overnight visitors.  This spare room became my room at one point, then my mom's room later.  It's where I insisted on sleeping with the overnight visitors and apparently kicking most of them in the ribs as I did "donuts" in my sleep as a kid. When it was my room it was where I talked on the phone to my first boyfriend.  When it was my mom's room, I would sneak in there on rough nights just to snuggle. 

The kitchen holds memories of my dad making "Tom's Tacos," eggs benedict, and chicken marsala.  I remember baking cakes with my dad for my mom's birthday and making M&M cookies with my mom.  Thanksgivings were spent in the kitchen with my dad for the savory things and helping my mom with the sweets.  I climbed the doorways in the kitchen up to the top, a hand and foot on each side.  Countless hours were spent with my mom and my high school friends solving the problems of the world and rehashing school drama. 

The dining room was my craft room, the family dinner table, the laundry folding station, the packing center, the gift wrapping station, the birthday and Easter morning present presentation holder.  The wall had markings of when I was little until I stopped getting any taller.  I also measured my stuffed animals, just in case they grew, too.  They were measured with and without ears, of course.  These markings got painted over a few years ago when the boy who was living with us got angry at me.  This house also saw me grow stronger through my pain. 

The living room held our Christmas tree, the futon when I had friends stay over for sleep overs, Charger games vs. Rugrats TV time drag-outs between my dad and me.  The living room is where I learned to roller blade on the hard wood floors and where my American Girl Dolls learned how to ski.  It's where I learned how to do a front tuck and back-walkover. 

The front porch had my balance beam where I learned back-walkovers on a two by four supported by cinder blocks and cart-wheels on the same lumber.  It's where I occasionally set up my tent for "camping" with my friends.

The little room on the side started as my mom's sewing room but it wasn't insulated so it became a book storage room, then my dolls' room in the summer time.  Eventually it became a throw all for clothes, books, and dolls.  Anything we didn't know what to do with was piled in that room.

The stairs have the banister I wasn't supposed to slide down but did anyway.  It's where I sat and listened the one time I remember my parents yelling at each other.  I remember it started because my dad had undercooked my mom's meat, again.  I now understand that is clearly not all it was.  The one untouched thing in my home is the clock from the Hotel Del which I absolutely adore.  Some how, it survived and to me, represents what things were before things started to go wrong.  It's appropriately placed just before the turn to the upstairs.

The landing was where I decorated with rocks and shells to greet me and my parents as we went to our bedrooms.  The bathroom upstairs is where I sometimes laid when it was super cold during the winter because the vent there was warmer than in my bedroom.  I did this by choice, not because I couldn't just get another blanket.  Also, I could listen to what was happening in the kitchen when the vent was open. 

My bedroom was where I believed I saw Rudolph and the tooth fairy.  It was where I hid my treasures and created my sanctuary.  It's also the first room that was turned over to the boy who lived with us.  It was the first to receive the damage.  The antique door of my once special place has a hole through the bottom. 

My parents' room, I knew little about other than it had a small door at the back of their closet.  I rarely was able to sneak in but when I got to it, I was usually too afraid to actually go into the crawl space.  When I was little I would run into their room at night when I was afraid.  When my dad was away on business I would sleep in his spot with my mom.  We would read our bedtime stories together and tell funny stories.  She would tell me about the birds she used to have and I would make up some fairy tale to tell her.  A sign in their room said "Happiness is being married to your best friend." It's also the room that my dad shut himself away in when he was succumbing to alcoholism.  It became a room to avoid as if it was plagued with sickness. Somehow, the boy took over this room later, too.  Now, it feels haunted with what might have been, or rather, what should have been.

I learned to play ball in the yard and learned to ride my bike there as well.  I played with my first and last dog here.  I climbed trees, had adventures, dug holes, and discovered cement.  I made mud pies and grass pillows, did gymnastics on the swing set, and baptized my animals in the birdbath.  We buried our animals in the yard and had funerals for them, too.  I played hide and seek and made teepees.

This house built me, watched me grow, and stayed here even when I left.  It held such great hopes and dreams for me, watched me crumble, and yet, stood around me.  As I understand it now, it's also been crumbling as the family inside it crumbled.  It's still strong, and still holds the hopes and dreams, but requires a lot of work to get it back to where it once was.  It's damaged but still standing and I'm not ready to leave it behind for good.  It knows me, more than anyone or anything has ever known me.  It defined me and somehow, always will.  Packing everything inside to keep or sell is painful enough but also knowing I can't just take this poor house with me crushes me.  It deserves better.  It did nothing to deserve being deserted, being left behind with holes and damage.  All it ever did was give, and I guess we forgot to give back.  I'm not sure how to say goodbye to the house I love so much, the house that built me.

Law Students Say the Darndest Things

Over the next two weeks studying for finals, I know, in our delirium, we will say some completely random things.  Here, I will do my best to record these moments for your enjoyment as well as my own way to look back and wonder why that was funny.

5/1/2013
I have been watching the San Diego Zoo Koala Cam.  My friends informed me that they were going to have an intervention and one of them asked if I had fallen asleep with it on.  I said no but I did write them a goodnight letter.  Another friend asked, "really?"  I replied, "No, Koalas can't read."

5/1/2013
2L friend trying to help me review for Civ Pro even though our Civ Pro prof doesn't use labels, my friend asks, "What is safe harbor?" (Referring to the grace period allowed under Rule 11, however, I don't remember this being called safe harbor).  My response was "the opposite of Pearl Harbor?"

5/1/2013
I bit into a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup Miniature which did not contain any Peanut butter!  I wrote the Reeses company a letter informing them of this and analyzed the situation under Manufacturing Defect, a tort issue.

5/2/2013
I received an email from Reeses letting me know that they will be sending me coupons for the lack of peanut butter in my cups.

5/2/2013
In Personum jurisdiction outline -
Friend reads "Presence sufficient even if just passing food"
My reply "would you like fries with that?"

5/3/2013
Friend, very excited about her realization, "Wait, guys, nationwide means in the United States!"
The rest of us, "Yup. . . ."

5/6/2013
Friend asks other friend who appears to be deep in thought while doing Property Problems, "What are you thinking about?"
Thinking friend, "What tater tots would taste like with Thai food."

Later, me, to answer the question, "Tater tots are always a good idea."

5/6/2013
Why do TJSL students get so fat?
It's so cold we have to add insulation.

5/8/2013
I'm studying with two Yankee fans, prepping for the Property exam, comparing it to baseball and saying that we will do well.  One Yankee to the other, "do it for Jeter!"

5/12/2013
There is another person in our study group with the same name as me.  I asked another girl to send me her notes on one subject to double check them with mine.  She sends it to the other girl with my name.  Twice.

5/12/2013
This morning someone asked me how I like law school.  I got halfway through my typical, "I love it" answer when I had to stop, back track, and just let him know this was a bad time to ask.  Last week, I loved it, this week I hate it.  Ask me again in the fall.

5/12/2013
When we get nervous, we tend to play with our hair more often.  Friend, "I just keep playing with it.  I keep telling myself to stop touching myself!"

5/12/2013
You know it's time to stop studying for the night and go to bed when your Tort puns start merging with Torte puns.

5/14/2013
Friend and me, studying in odd chairs, staring at odd patterns in the carpet, I inform her that she looks like she is in a bucket, peering over the edge of it into the river.  We then discussed what kinds of "fish" were in the river.  I swear this only lasted about 5 minutes.

5/15/2013 (Pretty much still 5/14/2013 in my mind)

After the first two finals I walked out thinking that I failed them both and cried.  After the third final I walked out thinking I failed it and am thanking the Lord I only have one left!

From tears to angry giggles.

5/15/2013

I received the coupons from Reeses!

5/15/2013

Sunny day.  Friend has hood tied tightly around her head.  Other friend asks why.  First friend replies, "so it wouldn't fly off in the rain."  

More to come, I'm sure.

My 1L Year: Nothing Is More Powerful Than An Idea Whose Time Has Come

Today is my final day of class for my 1L year of law school. So much has happened in this year and it has all happened so quickly that it is sometimes difficult to realize that things have changed.  Even though classes are coming to an end, my heart is racing constantly and my brain won't take a break because finals are looming ahead. In an effort to slow the panic, I have decided to attempt to reflect on the past year, in both personal and academic lights.

My first day of orientation was in mid August.  I had just gotten back from a trip from Iowa, visiting my mom and making sure she was settled in with her cancer treatments.  She had begun to have seizure like tendencies which inhibited her speaking ability.  When I called my mom that morning to tell her about my nerves, hopes, expectations, she was unable to respond with more than a few mumblings.  I called my mom's best friend who gave me the words of support I know my mom was wishing she could share.  I had spent so much time on my initial assignments, making sure I did each of them to the best of my ability, that I was sure they were all wrong.  At the time, they were exactly what they should have been.  Looking at them now, I was right, they were all wrong.  

I was terrified but optimistic.  I had been told to meet up with a girl who was the daughter of my boyfriend's mom's friend.  As fate would have it, I met the closest thing I had to a familiar face in the elevator before we even made it out of the parking garage.  Though we ended up having different interests throughout the year and made other friends, it was so nice to have someone to talk to about the process and not walk into the classrooms alone.  I remember thinking about who would be in my section, whether my first impressions would last, and who my real professors would be.  

On the first day of class, my boyfriend took my picture on our doorstep and drove me to school.  All over again, walking into the front doors of the school, I wanted to cry and run away as much as I wanted to jump up and down with excitement.  I had waited my entire life for this day.  It's strange now, how little I remember about that day when I had spent most of my life dreaming about what it would be like.  It went so quickly that I'm not entirely sure what classes I had that day.  I think it was Torts and Crim but I could be wrong.

Soon, our class started to settle into a routine.  We started to figure out our professors and expand our friend groups and interactions.  We found that our Contracts professor had some ups and our Civ Pro professor showed his passion like the Lorax.  On Thursdays, we had both of these classes so they became known as Passion Thursdays.  

We started Word of the Day and tried in each class to work the Word of the Day into the class conversations without the professor knowing.  My favorites were probably "groovy" and "vinyl." I ran for and won the position of 1L Representative for our class section on the Student Bar Association, which is essentially the student government.  I started a Facebook page for our section and, despite the inevitable vying for grades that would happen at the end of the term, everyone banded together to tackle our first semester.  

As midterms approached, we were given a template for our final exams.  As much as I was terrified and focused for those exams, I had no idea how little a role they played in our final grades.  Realistically, if I had done better on a few midterms, perhaps my final grade would have been higher, but it gave us an inkling of what was to come for finals and I was able to prepare so much better for final exams.  Judging how each professor graded was at least as important as actually knowing the material.  This is something that is haunting me and terrifying me for this semester.

I got the opportunity to spend Thanksgiving in the San Francisco area with my dad's side of the family. Getting out of town and just taking some time to see family that I hardly get to see was so refreshing and helped me to get my head focused for the last few weeks of school before finals.  

I was able to meet many area lawyers and get involved in a legal community I had little knowledge of before beginning school.  

Winter break somehow flew by and was still littered with concerns about school as our grades trickled out over the four weeks we had "off."  Despite one class crushing my heart and shattering my self-definition, I made honor-roll.

Coming back second semester, dynamics had changed a bit.  Each person had a different outlook.  Some became more welcoming, now used to the law school game; others gripped more tightly to their friend groups.  Others couldn't adhere to those tight grips and so became a "free agent" on the study group market.  

Barrister's Ball allowed us to feel fancy for an evening, connect with some professors outside of the classroom, and connect with each other.  Barristers became a defining evening for me this year.  I decided at that point what school groups I wanted to be involved in, what level of commitment I was prepared to offer those groups, and what I needed to do to get there.  In some cases, this meant simply finding social situations that made me happier and reminded me of my passions.  I needed to surround myself with people who understood those passions and who had similar ones.  Despite everyone being in law school, hopes, dreams, personalities, and goals are as diverse as any undergraduate institution could offer.  Just as my English major occasionally gathered snickers from my Bio major friends, not everyone has the ability to be supportive of my Crim law and litigation goals when their goals are so undecided or decided to the point where they know that what I want is definitely not what they want.  Just as after the first few weeks of school in the fall friend groups reshuffled, it happened a bit in the spring as well, all for the best.  We all grew into our 1L selves.  We had all changed from the first few weeks of school, created new goals, and new paranoias.  

Over spring break, I volunteered as a witness for the mock trial team.  After sitting in on two of their practices, I knew that that was what I wanted to do with my life all day every day.  Fortunately, I realized, this is why I am going to law school.  As obvious as it seems, something finally clicked in my mind as to why I was truly here.  I realized that my five year plan includes a real career, not an educational career.

Somehow, Midterms came quickly, Spring Break flew by, and all of a sudden, we were faced with a few fingers worth of weeks until finals.  Professors taught differently this semester.  I am not sure whether it is because we had one semester under our belts and they wanted us to up our game or whether it was simply because the information was different but we had more detailed work to do outside of class and gained less information in the classes themselves.  My family found out that my mom's cancer had returned and she is continually going through new treatments.  Despite it weighing on my mind, that mind needs to be focused on my upcoming finals.

All the while, I had my animals and family and boyfriend supporting me from outside the school realm. God bless each of them for putting up with my psycho habits that I have developed.  Requiring certain things to be clean on certain days and time to myself before I ripped someone's head off were all things that everyone dealt with and yet, they still talk to me.  I can't thank them enough for that.  

Next year I will face new challenges.  I will be serving as the Treasurer for SBA, the President for the Women's Law Association, and, hopefully, I will be participating in Mock Trial.  In the next two weeks my challenges will include keeping dry eyes when I want to curl up in a ball and quit, keeping my cats off my butcher paper as I wallpaper my home with charts, outlines, and diagrams, and not letting the terror of defeat overcome my hopes to succeed.

My favorite quote which seems to apply to every point in my life still motivates me today.  

"I wanted a perfect ending.  Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end.  Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next.  Delicious Ambiguity." - Gilda Radner.