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Archive for July, 2008

Sorry for the drama

I apologize for leaving such a dramatic post up for so long.  I’ve taken the south carolina bar exam, my car has broken down, and I’m trying to recover.  I’m really tired, and I’m in hiding right now.  I have to go to work tomorrow.  Here I go again, being dramatic again. 


I’m actually so relieved.  I thought the bar was ridiculously hard.  Three days was a long time.  I really hope I passed. 


I love television.  Hopefully I’ll have something interesting to say sometime in the near future.  I’m making no promises, but I’ll keep you posted. 

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Would you like to send an error report?

If only there was some place to send the error report.  I’m losing it.  It isn’t just that I’m tired of studying.  I am tired of studying, but if my panic attacks were confined to studying, I would be coping much better.  But the stress of the bar sets off a chain reaction panic where I remember something at work I didn’t do that may end up ruining my life (this is honestly not in the realm of possibility, but that doesn’t change how I feel about it), or I remember something I said at the bar the other night, or how I never picked up that prescription, and how I never took that book on tape back to pilot gas station and how I can’t find a certain pair of pants and maybe I dropped them off at the dry cleaners long ago and never picked them up and now they are lost forever. 

Then I do coordinated things like pinching Briscoe’s fur under my chair (I didn’t know she was sitting DIRECTLY beneath me), and spent two hours feeling HORRIBLY guilty because my dog hates me.  She let out the most pathetic yelp.  To be fair, I don’t think I actually got any skin, but she moved to the other side of the room and chewed on the spot for twenty minutes.  What a drama queen. 

I’ve researched being a federal court translator (I don’t speak another language), getting pet insurance, how much cars cost (I have no intentions of buying a new car), gone through a case that is on appeal that I forgot to do something about on friday (the guy has already exhausted his rights in our court, he just likes to write letters demanding things), finishing the novel I was reading, played quite a few games of free cell, and I check the weather channel compulsively hoping it will rain just to have something interesting happen.  It looks like it is getting cloudy outside.  Maybe I’ll get lucky. 

I also spend a lot of time searching the internet for south carolina bar exam questions. 

Yesterday I watched batman begins in the morning, studied, then went and saw the dark knight with my dad.  It was really good.  I find stories to be such a great escape. 

I’m in my parents cottage, which was inhabited by a renter until about about a month ago, when she got married and moved out.  It has a window unit air conditioner which is blowing on my neck right now and about to drive me nuts. 

And the worst part?  I know what would make me feel better.  I would feel better if I would just focus and get though a lot more material.  All the procrastination just makes me feel worse, but for some reason it is paralyzing. 

Look at that, it is raining.  Yay. I don’t know why that makes me feel better but it does. 

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The neighborhood effect

Yesterday, on my way home from work, I stopped at the neighborhood liquor store.  Elizabeth and I had consumed a couple of my mom’s bottles of wine in the past few weeks and I thought it might be nice to at least replace one or two, and maybe buy a bottle for the weekend.  Or some beer.  I hadn’t really decided. I ended up getting wine and beer. 


As I pulled into the parking space, I noticed my 4th grade school teacher in the adjacent spot.  She and her husband are in the same crowd as my parents, and her kids, although not my age, are around my age.  We waived.  Once inside the store, we politely avoided each other as not to crowd the other’s decision making (it isn’t the largest store).


We both ended up at the register at the same time, we spoke, Hey, how are you, good to see you.  She asked me about the shoulder surgery my dad had undergone the day before, she had heard about it the day before at the vet’s office – the vet happens to be my dad’s best friend (his Ireland travel buddy).  We spoke of our dogs, and how we were glad it was the weekend.  One of the town drunks (who was purchasing his own weekend provisions) offered to help her carry her purchases to the car.  She declined. 


I got into my car before she did and I drove off before she got out of the parking spot.  As I pulled out onto the street, I saw my brother pulling into the liquor store.  He lives about two blocks away, and after all, it was 5 o’clock on Friday afternoon.  He made the hand motion of spinning his finger around – the TURN AROUND signal.  So I turned around immediately and was back in the parking lot as my former teacher was pulling out.  She stopped – rolled down her window and said –


LOOK AT THE PAINE CHILDREN -BOTH AT THE LIQUOR STORE!


I said – IMAGINE THAT!

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An interesting observation

(the title to this post is very ego-centric – since the observation is one that I made about myself, so I apologize for being shockingly self absorbed.)

I don’t like horror movies.  I don’t go see them.  I don’t watch the previews for them.  I don’t like being frightened.  I don’t like the graphic images.  They freak me out.  I’ve seen quite a few horror movies, and every one I’ve ever seen is burned in my brain for all eternity.  I don’t mind the stories.  Emily loves horror movies and I like it when she tells me the story.  She is a good story teller and I love stories.  I enjoy hearing the story, it is the mental images in horror movies that I can’t shake.  I read somewhere that men and women process images differently, and really graphic images disturb women much more than men, which is why men are more likely to enjoy shows like the Sopranos (not that women don’t like that show, but women are more likely to be disturbed by it). 

But the weird thing is – I LOVE crime shows.  Like, Love them.  I think I’ve seen every single CSI Las Vegas and 90% of the CSI miami.  I know I’ve seen every NCSI and Numb3rs.  Not to mention the thousands of Law and Orders.  I love the original, SVU, Criminal Intent – I even loved the spin off show Conviction.  I’ve seen every Bones.  I feel like I’m leaving out a show.  I don’t watch CSI new york or cold case.  I watch them on DVD from netflix, I tivo them, and I watch them when they just happen to come on.  Recently I’ve become obsessed with Criminal Minds.  OBSESSED. 

So here is what I find interesting.  Horror movies are not real.  And most of the time the things that happen are not even close to reality.  And they scare me slap silly.

Crime shows?  Crime shows are much closer to the truth.  Not the forensic or legal nature of them, but the stories.  The crimes.  Crimes like that actually happen.  Serial killers are real.  Rapist are real.  Random Acts of violence are REAL.  People kill other people for money and power and sports equipment.  And I can sit up late into the night watching crazy people hack up innocent victims then fall directly to sleep with no residual effect.  And most of these shows are pretty graphic. 

Emily says Drew thinks there is something wrong with her because she loves crime shows.  But that must mean there is obviously something wrong with me too.  Although we both agree, If we weren’t ourselves, we would wish we were.  Hehe. 

On that same note, Jennifer and Emily used to think there was something bad wrong with me because I love depressing music.  They think I’m too upbeat and happy of a person to listen to so much Patty Griffin and Amos Lee and sad county songs.  I find them uplifting.  They are my poets. 

I remember being really upset when I found out that my favorite Susan Tedeschi song was actually a Bob Dylan cover.  Of COURSE it was.  She’s an amazing musician, but Bob Dylan was a poet – and the words are what I really identify with. 

I REALLY hate studying for the bar.  REALLY.  REALLY hate. 

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I love soft drinks

Especially diet coke.  And Dr. Pepper.  I like diet DP and I like regular coke too – but diet coke and regular dr pepper are my fav.  Right now I am drinking a diet coke out of an aluminum can, which is the best way to drink diet coke, and it is seriously increasing my quality of life. 

I had a dream last night that I was in a triathlon of sorts – I had to run and bike and kayak.  Random.  And I didn’t train for it.  And right before it started I had to buy a water bottle for the event, and the one I picked out ended up costing $80 – and I almost choked, but I HAD to have the water bottle and I didn’t have time to find a cheaper one and I really loved the one I’d picked out.  It was a gray sigg bottle with a carabiner on the top.  I was very concerned I was going to drown during the kayaking part. 

I also dreamed that I had a party at my parents house where we grilled out hamburgers and fed like 50 people.  It was fun, but I didn’t know a lot of the people very well, and I hadn’t exactly cleared it with my parents that the party was going to be that big, so I was a little nervous. 

But those are just dreams.  The reality is that I’m going to Aspen tomorrow for Allison’s wedding!  I am so excited.  There are lots of people I haven’t seen in a long time that I’m really looking forward to hanging out with. 

Plus I really miss my mountains! 

I read this article the other day by Judith Warner – and it reminded me of some things I’ve been thinking of a lot recently.  Namely, how our friends define us.  Take Jessica for instance.  She’s a great friend of mine, and when we met – we immediately clicked and wanted to hang out all the time.  I definitely had a big crush on her.  We now live in different cities and I don’t see her as much as I would like to – but when another friend says – I hung out with Jessica the other day and I really think she is the funniest person in the world – I take that as a compliment.  Because, well, SHE’S MY FRIEND!  My special friend.  Not that I don’t have other equally as special friends, but Jessica thinks I’M FUNNY.  We laugh at each other!  So if someone else thinks she is hilarious, that means I might be sort of hilarious too.  At least when I’m with her.  In addition to taking it as a compliment, I feel like, wow, I’m special to have such a funny and great person as a friend.  And you know what?  The person who told me they think Jessica is hilarious had no intention of boosting my self esteem.  He was just commenting on a fact. 

And I know this can go the other way as well.  I’ve had friends that I’ve introduced that served as a catalyst for disaster, where one person was definitely in the wrong.  And I’ve felt responsible.  For subjecting the victim to such disaster.  Or the friends who meet randomly and find that I’m the mutual friend, and a strong dislike develops between the two people which has nothing to do with me and I find myself trying to convince both sides that the other isn’t as terrible as they think.  Which is silly, not everyone has to love everyone else.  Or the friend who just ends up not being a friend at all and stabs you in the back.  That friend makes you question your judgment.  Makes you wonder why you didn’t see it, especially if everyone else in your life saw it clearly. 

I think this is also why we take insults to our friends so personally.  I can handle being insulted.  I don’t like it, but I can handle it.  But when someone insults or mistreats one of my special friends, it really ticks me off.  And I see how when I’ve been mistreated, I recover from the slight much quicker than my close friends recover from it. For some reason it is much easier for me to forgive someone for hurting me than for hurting my friend.  I’m not sure exactly how this all relates back to how your friends validate you, but it is just what I have been thinking about lately. 

I hope you all have a spectacular 4th of July – Yay AMERICA!  Let me know if you are going to be in aspen this week!  Wish me luck, it could be a big weekend!  Kisses!

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