Life is a Mix Tape: One Year Anniversary

Here's to an entire year of Mandrew putting up with my blogging.

A big thank you to Narwhal who tipped me off to this song, "Find My Way Back Home," by the enchanting Priscilla Ahn. HALFIES CLUB!

Pioneer Craft Hour: A Telephone Conversation Juxtaposed with B&W Photographs

I worked with a job placement specialist a little more than a year ago when I was trying to find a job that would keep me in DC. She and I talked again last week. The doubt produced by that conversation stands in reassuring contrast to the determined first photographs I took with my BlackBird Fly in New York.

Telephone Conversation with Job Placement Specialist

Specialist: You’re not really going to UDC, are you?
Me: I really am. I did apply to other schools but only as a plan B, C & D.

Specialist: We throw away resumes that list UDC as an educational institution.
Me: Do you mean the University or the Law School?

Specialist: They’re not one and the same?
Me: The University may not have a good reputation, but the Law School has an amazing clinical program. It’s perfect for the kind of public interest work I want to do.

Specialist: I dunno. It’d be a waste of your talent and dynamic personality.
Me: Thanks, but I’ll find a way to make it work.

Gemini: Wearing Down Fate

The stars effing give up—if you want another slice of blueberry pie, just go ahead and have another slice of blueberry pie.

(Photo: thebittenword.com)

Remember: That Time You Got Into Lawyer School

Applying to law school is like competing to be America's Next Top Model, writing an epitaph and appealing an approaching death sentence. Only you have do it all while being chased by angry bulls, AND munchkin goblins are shooting you with rubber bands. (Photo: gnackgnackgnack)

I apply first to my #1 school, The University of the District of Columbia, David A. Clark School of Law. This school is devoted to generating lawyers committed to serving the public interest. Tuition is relatively inexpensive, so students can actually afford to work for non-profits after graduation. And all students perform a minimum of 700 hours of faculty-supervised representation of low-income DC residents. Whoo!

ALSO, the bus that goes to the school stops at my FRONT DOOR.

Preparing my resume and writing the personal statement takes three weeks; it also takes a village. In addition to getting comments from people I actually know, I solicit comments from Oprah, Obama and the Dalai Lama.

My Mom: "Honey, just be yourself. You haven't turned it in yet!? The earlier..."

Mandrew: "Calm Down."

Friend Nikki: "Dude, TAKE your mission off your resume!"

Oprah, Obama and the Dalai Lama: No Response. (Gerks)

I finally get all the application materials together and send them in the week before Christmas. I hold my breath. I smile. I pretend that my entire future doesn't rest on 1373 words and a bad LSAT score.

After a few weeks, anxiety overpowers reason, and I start furiously applying to backup schools I have no great interest in. (Note: Applying to random law schools is an expensive habit. Next time, try smoking instead.)

The day after paying a few million dollars in application fees, I get mail from the University of DC. The envelope looks like it contains more than a single rejection letter (Had a letter from the school arrived in a regular sized envelope, I might have imploded). Luckily Mandrew is spared my dramatics, because it's an acceptance letter to the only school I really wanted to attend!

THANK YOU ADMISSIONS GODS!

and THANK YOU VILLAGE OF HELPFUL FRIENDS!

Gemini: Adopt Dog. Buy Samurai Battle Armor.

Don't spend the rest of your life wondering "what if?" Dress the dog in full military regalia before it's too late.

(Photo: gizzypooh)

Pioneer Craft Hour: Redscale Film

If I wasn't lazy, I would just make it myself, but Urban Outfitters sells redscale film which is just too convenient. I bought a pack before Mandrew and I headed to Chicago, and it was worth all seventeen sacajaweas.

We stayed with a few friends in Wicker Park, which is a lot like walking into a ReadyMade magazine. All the kids are hip, artsy and eco-friendly. When we got off the elevated train, I had two thoughts. First, "I'm gonna take photos of EVERY SINGLE PERSON we pass", and second, "where are all the adults?"

On Monday while our friends were working their day jobs, Mandrew and I headed out to see Chicago's art district. We had quite the time walking there in a foot of snow, in the bitter cold

(Note: Boat shoes--deceiving as they may be--are not snow appropriate).

Although EVERY single gallery was closed and the trip was incredibly disappointing (Monday, I HATE you), we did cross a bright red bridge which was worth photographing (more here) .

Underage: Below the Poverty Level

What a naive 3rd grader I was. While my peers were talking about becoming freelance grant writers, community outreach coordinators and part-time office managers, I was dreaming about becoming a sea studyer, farm owner and the goodest person EVER.

What little me didn't realize at the time is that there's little funding for sea studyers in times of recession. Farms are your worst enemies if you suffer from hay fever. And you can't finance a single 20-something lifestyle on the below-minimum wage they're paying good persons (only in select cities).

And that is why I am becoming a pickpocket. I hear applications are in high demand in the weeks before inauguration.

When I grow up I want to

make a living by being a good

person and being a

peron who is a Sea studyer.

I want to own a farm