Another Brick In The Wall

i turned 26 this weekend, but i'm really not any different than i was at 10 years old. as a kid, my parents' standard response to "it's not fair" was always "well sorry, life's not fair." this answer incensed me; maybe life ISN'T fair, but it SHOULD be. and instead of blaming injustice on their perceived inevitabilities of life, my parents should've done their part to make it fair. (as a caveat, i'm sure that this response was more of a quick way to end an unwanted discussion than the result of any desire on their part to avoid doing the right thing.) even though i'm a public defender and incredibly overly protective of my perfect little delinquents, my ultimate goal is still to do what's right. kids deserve consequences for their actions. however, all crimes are only alleged to have occurred until proven beyond a reasonable doubt by the county attorney or until admitted to on the record. even if my client is guilty as sin, admitted his wrongdoing to the police, and handed over the evidence in a monogrammed bag, it's only fair to make the state do its job in convincing the judge.

at 26, "life's not fair" becomes even worse. because now i feel like i should be able to do something about it. i mean, i have a couple college degrees and a good credit score and shiny pointy-toed shoes. i should be able to use the influence of my goofy smile and professional appearance to gently herd people in the right direction. but in reality, i'm not any more useful in procuring world peace than i was at age 10. there is still a mile-high brick wall in the form of apathy and bureaucratic bullshit. the people in charge aren't the ones rotting away in detention. which i suppose makes it easy for them to make excuses to sit on their hands in disregard of the constitution. it also means they have plenty of time to sit around in designer suits sipping lattes and planning their rise to the top of the political food chain on the backs of little angst-ridden 14-year-old girls with crackhead moms.

just let it go, my boss says -- there's nothing you can do. thanks lady, but turning a blind eye isn't going to help me sleep at night either. six months with a bar card and i'm questioning my faith in the justice system. or more accurately, the integrity of the morons who man it.

i thought understanding was something i was growing into (however slowly) but i was wrong. and i don't want to understand how to justify inequity or alienate myself or to go down without a fight.

Good-bye Sequins, Good-bye Elvis

so i went to vegas for the first time a couple weeks ago. what a freak show. i'm not really into gambling -- i think because i don't understand why it's fun ... i like to play UNO with my sister and that's FREE -- but i do enjoy sparkly things and people-watching. so i wandered around wide-eyed in my sequins and dark eyeliner, drinking 52-oz strawberry daiquiris in football-shaped containers, marveling at the lights and energy and craziness ... and checking out the late-night wedding chapels. i had fun, but it was a bit overwhelming for this little country girl, and i didn't last much into the second night before i didn't care if i ever saw another neon light, slot machine, transvestite, deuce bus, 99-cent shrimp cocktail, etc. ever again and marched myself up to bed.

it also did not take long for me to decide that i no longer want to get married in las vegas (in the presence of elvis and with all guests clad in sequins), even though this has been my dream for as long as i can remember. it will still be an event with as little annoying planning of minute details as i can get away with, and everyone is still welcome to wear sequins, but there is no way i would marry someone that i actually like amid such schmaltz and imprudence. and i plan to marry someone that i actually like. a lot.

in response to my last post, tiger pointed me towards this article, marry him! the case for settling for mr. good enough, which advises women to forget about passion and start thinking about developing a good family infrastructure. because if you marry with great expectations, you are more likely to become disillusioned and resentful.

this article makes me squint my eyes and purse my lips -- a look generally reserved for the judge when she's being uncooperative with my monday morning demands -- perhaps because my entire life goal is not to procreate. this is one of many reasons that mormons make me nervous (a fact that i recently discovered, having moved to the southwest where they are found in abundance.) i don't have anything against kids, but feel like i am capable of living a productive, meaningful life without recreating myself in miniature, and then spending 18+ years trying to make sure it doesn't turn out like me.

there IS a reason people become disillusioned and resentful in marriage -- it's because they don't want to put any effort into it. relationships are work. romantic relationships especially, but it still takes a considerable amount of time and effort, mainly in the form of listening and talking, to maintain close friendships and family ties and even amicability with co-workers. the real trick is finding someone who understands that and who isn't going to give up on you. why bother putting all that work into someone who only makes you marginally happy? that, people, is bad economics. if i am going to devote my energy to some boy, he'd better inspire me to answer the door for him in just my apron every once in a while.

and why do you have to overlook the poor movie etiquette and abysmal fashion sense? i dated a guy in college whose whole life goal at the time was to achieve immortality. literally. he wanted to live forever. it's easy to admit that this is weird -- less easy to admit that i didn't love him in spite of this oddity, but because of it. i date a guy now who constantly questions my motivation, my authenticity and my thought process. (he also insists on taking a whiz outside -- usually from a high perch -- anytime there is an appreciable breeze and yells "OH shit" anytime we pass a law enforcement officer, usually leading me to believe i'm about to plow through a javelina in the middle road until i notice there are red-and-blues flashing 100 miles off in the distance.) these things drive me crazy, but i don't overlook them. instead, every time they happen i roll my eyes and smile. on the inside at least.

i've got 3 words for lori gottlieb and her theory on settling: fuck that shit. i don't want to be "relatively content" with a "stable, reliable life companion." i can be "relatively content" by myself, eating frozen thin mints, watching futurama, dancing around in my underwear on friday nights, and hanging out with other people's kids. and in fact, i can be a whole step higher at "actually content" doing these things and knowing that i don't have to wonder what i may have passed up in marrying the first good ol' reliable joe-schmoe to buy me a (probably sensibly modest) diamond ring after my 35th birthday. i've got bigger plans than sensibility and complacency.

so, while i may have a more conventional wedding than i had originally planned, i will never, ever settle for a conventional husband. there will still be big old sequins behind my eyes.

Untitled

today my day started with a phone call from a client. you know you're in for trouble when the first thing out of her mouth is "you can't tell my parents what i'm about to tell you, right?" and you especially know when the next thing out of her mouth is "i'm pregnant and i want to be emancipated so i can marry my boyfriend."

at first i was flattered that my little delinquent trusted me enough to tell me this kind of information. (and honestly, i knew it was coming. the kids i represent are not the most ... well adjusted ... responsible ... risk averse ... of a group of people that is already generally irrational and ill-equipped to deal with life: teenagers. nor do they generally have the most supportive of parents.) then, panic set in. how the hell did i end up here, in this job, offering to shuttle kids to pregnancy crisis centers and having heart-to-heart conversations about teenage relationships?

on a somewhat unrelated note, i started thinking yesterday about a conversation i had with my mom (i guess almost two years ago now) about the difference between what you need in a relationship when you're 50 versus when you're 25. at 50, being comfortable with another person might be enough. but i would never let my sisters marry someone "comfortable" -- just a nice guy with a plan and a future and a life insurance policy.

of course this begs the question of what is missing from the aforementioned nice guy that makes him unworthy of the affections of a young person such as myself or my sisters... and i think the missing link is some measure of discomfort. nobody ever says "hey, i want to be in a relationship that makes me squirm, look over my shoulder, think twice, reevaluate." but maybe love is having no idea what is going to happen next but not being able to contain your anticipation that it go ahead and happen. maybe love is being OK with committing yourself to having no idea what is going to happen next. regardless, i am sure love is NOT being 100% sure that you'll always have a good dental plan.

in other news, i had a successful easter holiday -- spent splashing around in the sunshine in a cold cold cold snowmelt creek and decorating easter eggs for aaron's mom almost entirely in fun beavis-and-butthead phrases such as dumbass and bunghole. she appeared to be amused. and that's the extent of my mental capacity after days like today.

Public Defender, Day 128

i dealt with my first irate parent today. it's always good to walk into a child-family-team meeting and have your client's mother yell, "what are YOU doing here?" like you carry some highly-contagious debilitating disease. well, ma'am, i'm here to look out for your daughter's best interest, which obviously you have failed to take care of, else we would not find ourselves spending a thursday morning at the guidance clinic discussing an appropriate placement for your severely traumatized daughter whom you refuse to allow back in your house. i understand that this line is probably hard to swallow coming from me, but c'mon lady -- i'm the best thing your daughter's got going for her right now. not to mention her constitutional right to an attorney ...

people just really hate lawyers and think that nothing good can come from one. i'm used to this and do not get offended that 90% of people i meet find it necessary to tell me their favorite lawyer joke immediately upon learning of my profession. after all, when i was in third grade, i wrote a paper about how i wanted to be an accountant when i grew up -- but anyway definitely NOT a lawyer since i didn't want to be someone that my dad makes fun of at the dinner table every night. side note: praise the lord i'm not an accountant. i do find it unfortunate though, since i try really really hard to do what's best for my clients and make a difference in their lives. even if it's just by being the only adult who will listen to them or sharing a story from my own youth.

i think my parent felt better after the CFT was over and she realized that i really was only in attendance to raise hell to make sure my client doesn't spend a single extra unnecessary moment in detention. i apologized to her afterwards for being defensive (a peril of being a defense attorney i suppose) and she actually shook my hand.

in the past 9 months or so i have become increasingly and uncharacteristically tolerant of others. although i definitely still have a problem relating to WHY people do things that they do, i am convinced that they have their reasons and that these reasons probably make perfect sense to them. and that's good economics -- even if it seems ridiculous to me. all bitchy people are probably just having a bad day. all people who fail to return my phone calls are probably just really busy. all white trash are probably just inevitable products of their upbringing. anyone who knew me in high school would be shocked to hear this, since back then every misstep was a personal affront to me and deserved an ass-kicking (even if in the form of a silent battle).

i'm definitely getting old(er) and mellow(er). i'm sure i'm still a huge pain in the ass, but i've learned to pick my battles. at age 25, woot.

Dear Diary

this morning i read someone else's journal before breakfast. that's pretty early in the morning for most people to be nosing around in the private lives of others, but it's important to take advantage of the opportunities you are given, even when they do not conveniently fit into your preferred schedule. and any writing left lying on a bedside table is begging to be explored.

there's a certain amount of risk involved in delving into the bemusings of another, even, as in this case, when they belong to someone you don't know. it's almost like reading someone's mind -- and i've spent a lot of time in my own mind, enough to be sure that i would never wish it on anybody else. however, i read the journal eagerly, at least until i got cut off around mid-february. even with a blank of the past month, i'm confident as to what came next. people are generally the same. maybe it takes a peek at the deepest level of someone else's thought to recognize that.

do i feel bad about it? no. should i? maybe. but as my dad likes to remind me: don't put anything in writing that you don't want coming out at your senate confirmation hearings. i suppose i should keep that in mind while i continue to exchange flirtatious emails with the JPO...

this past weekend i went to a 6-year-old's high-school-musical-themed birthday party -- you know, as adult supervision. 6-year-olds are fun. just throw some glitter and sunglasses on them and let them run wild with charades & helium-filled balloons and they'll start partying like rock stars & yelling about what beautiful beasts they are (as seen below). i left with one hand of hot pink fingernails and one hand of glittery blue fingernails, sticky with glitter and smelling like a sugar cookie. a successful day to be sure.