Usually, I do a good job of keeping my temper.
But not when I get behind the wheel. Today, the Chargers are at home against the Seahawks in a preseason (i.e., meaningless) game. I live near Qualcomm stadium, and given that I never have had to deal with Chargers traffic, I made a wrong turn into the stadium parking lot. The Chargers were pretty nice about it, actually. Even though they made me pay twenty bucks to get into the parking lot, they promised to give me my money back when I left. They even had a special "Made a wrong turn into the parking lot" ticket to give me so I could show I should get my money back.
Making it to the exit, however, was more involved and difficult than it should have been. They made me go to a special exit, and I had the most difficult time getting there. Ropes, cones, and highway medians blocked every way I wanted to go. Twenty minutes of driving around and around were enough to make a screaming banshee out of me. Eff this and eff that. When I finally found the appropriate exit, I literally burned rubber to get the eff out of there.
Driving is a big case of the yucks.
Showing posts with label customs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label customs. Show all posts
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Right back where I started from
After tomorrow, my adventure as a pretend attorney will be over; Summer Associate Summer Camp has come to a close. Just like any camper, I was homesick at the start, but now I am dreading my departure and trying not to cry.
And failing.
And failing.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Ocean
They lay it on thick here in southern California.
On Tuesday the Summers went kayaking at La Jolla Cove, where the water was so warm and so blue I could have melted into it. An intrepid Partner and his wife took us kayaking at sunset, when the sunlight leapt across the ocean. We paddled up to a pod of sea lions and witnessed other wildlife from afar. The water was still enough for rank beginners such as I not to feel afraid but to feel like we were experts. We paddled about the cove for about an hour and half, and when it was time to head back in, my partner and I rode a wave right back to shore. Rockin'.
Afterwards, we settled into a local restaurant where we racked up enough points on the Partner's credit card to fund his next round-trip flight home to the midwest. Better than the food, though, was the fellowship. We're nine weeks into our summer program, and we've grown together. We talked, we laughed, and we felt completely comfortable. Of course, Offers always are at the back of our minds, but each of us has come to know an exceptional group of people, and for that I am especially grateful. I expected to be friendly with my co-workers, but I never expected to be their friend.
On Tuesday the Summers went kayaking at La Jolla Cove, where the water was so warm and so blue I could have melted into it. An intrepid Partner and his wife took us kayaking at sunset, when the sunlight leapt across the ocean. We paddled up to a pod of sea lions and witnessed other wildlife from afar. The water was still enough for rank beginners such as I not to feel afraid but to feel like we were experts. We paddled about the cove for about an hour and half, and when it was time to head back in, my partner and I rode a wave right back to shore. Rockin'.
Afterwards, we settled into a local restaurant where we racked up enough points on the Partner's credit card to fund his next round-trip flight home to the midwest. Better than the food, though, was the fellowship. We're nine weeks into our summer program, and we've grown together. We talked, we laughed, and we felt completely comfortable. Of course, Offers always are at the back of our minds, but each of us has come to know an exceptional group of people, and for that I am especially grateful. I expected to be friendly with my co-workers, but I never expected to be their friend.
Friday, July 13, 2007
It's a small world after all
Today I started thinking that perhaps the world is too small.
Part of the appeal in coming to a place where I have no connections is simply that: I have no connections. But in the last week, I have discovered not one, but two, impossible connections that got me thinking that maybe even San Diego isn't far enough away.
The managing partner's daughter
My managing partner's daughter is a reporter at an online newspaper. The daughter's manager is a friend of mine from high school. This is spooky enough, given that the daughter grew up in San Diego and I grew up in the Junction. Spookier still, however, is that this online newspaper is based in New Delhi.
Buyer's counsel
My firm is seller's counsel in a somewhat complicated securities/real estate transaction. Today I discovered that buyer's counsel is my next-door neighbor from my first-year dorm. This is remarkable considering that I attended college in Rhode Island, and I now, might I remind you, LIVE IN SAN DIEGO. I consciously have tried something drastically new, but I keep on getting pulled right back.
So it makes we wonder if my world really is too small. Not in terms of geography, but in terms of networks. My parents gave me the best education they could afford, and I've worked hard to take advantage of those opportunities. But is running into, and dealing with, the same people over and over again really what education is all about? I thought I was supposed to be broadening my horizons.
Edited to add:
For a celebrity's opinion on roughly the same matters, see this thoughtful piece on social networks in this week's SundayBusiness. Apparently, Ben Stein and I are on the same wavelength. How about that.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/15/business/yourmoney/
15every.html?ex=1342152000&en=aa8016d0980e2982&
ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Part of the appeal in coming to a place where I have no connections is simply that: I have no connections. But in the last week, I have discovered not one, but two, impossible connections that got me thinking that maybe even San Diego isn't far enough away.
The managing partner's daughter
My managing partner's daughter is a reporter at an online newspaper. The daughter's manager is a friend of mine from high school. This is spooky enough, given that the daughter grew up in San Diego and I grew up in the Junction. Spookier still, however, is that this online newspaper is based in New Delhi.
Buyer's counsel
My firm is seller's counsel in a somewhat complicated securities/real estate transaction. Today I discovered that buyer's counsel is my next-door neighbor from my first-year dorm. This is remarkable considering that I attended college in Rhode Island, and I now, might I remind you, LIVE IN SAN DIEGO. I consciously have tried something drastically new, but I keep on getting pulled right back.
So it makes we wonder if my world really is too small. Not in terms of geography, but in terms of networks. My parents gave me the best education they could afford, and I've worked hard to take advantage of those opportunities. But is running into, and dealing with, the same people over and over again really what education is all about? I thought I was supposed to be broadening my horizons.
Edited to add:
For a celebrity's opinion on roughly the same matters, see this thoughtful piece on social networks in this week's SundayBusiness. Apparently, Ben Stein and I are on the same wavelength. How about that.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/15/business/yourmoney/
15every.html?ex=1342152000&en=aa8016d0980e2982&
ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalink
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Asian
This summer, I've gotten back in touch with my Asian side. My two roommates are Asian, and so, predictably, are many of their friends. Why "predictably," you say? Well, do you have eyes?
Neither my sister nor I ever has run with the Asian crowd. There was a while back in high school when I thought I ran with them, but boy did they let me know I was mistaken. So ever since then, I've been happy with my friends of many races, not content to confine myself to a mono-ethnicity clique. Sometimes I question myself, and wonder if I've done myself a disservice by not having more Asian friends.
So that's why this summer I've been happy to get acquainted with APALSA-San Diego. They are a fun-loving bunch, inviting me whenever they go out, and trying to coax stodgy old me into going with them to parties in Hollywood. (Bless their hearts.)
But best of all, they cook. Friends, APALSA can cook. I was treated to a tropical feast on Independence Day, a veritable smorgasbord of Guamanian, Filipino, and other Polynesian food. I ate, and ate, and then I ate some more, and the best part - I didn't even feel guilty about it. APALSA must be magic.
At one point in the evening, though, I did notice something awry. My roommate's half-Mexican, half-white boyfriend was there, the only non-Asian. I felt awkward for him, wondering if he felt awkward, too. My old habits came flooding back, "Oh why can't the Asians be friends with other races?" I thought. But then I had another thought - I am often the only Asian in the room, and only rarely do I feel awkward about it. Not because I'm incredibly self-confident or self-aware, but because I've learned to deal. I've toughed it out. And maybe I shouldn't be the only person to have to do so.
Neither my sister nor I ever has run with the Asian crowd. There was a while back in high school when I thought I ran with them, but boy did they let me know I was mistaken. So ever since then, I've been happy with my friends of many races, not content to confine myself to a mono-ethnicity clique. Sometimes I question myself, and wonder if I've done myself a disservice by not having more Asian friends.
So that's why this summer I've been happy to get acquainted with APALSA-San Diego. They are a fun-loving bunch, inviting me whenever they go out, and trying to coax stodgy old me into going with them to parties in Hollywood. (Bless their hearts.)
But best of all, they cook. Friends, APALSA can cook. I was treated to a tropical feast on Independence Day, a veritable smorgasbord of Guamanian, Filipino, and other Polynesian food. I ate, and ate, and then I ate some more, and the best part - I didn't even feel guilty about it. APALSA must be magic.
At one point in the evening, though, I did notice something awry. My roommate's half-Mexican, half-white boyfriend was there, the only non-Asian. I felt awkward for him, wondering if he felt awkward, too. My old habits came flooding back, "Oh why can't the Asians be friends with other races?" I thought. But then I had another thought - I am often the only Asian in the room, and only rarely do I feel awkward about it. Not because I'm incredibly self-confident or self-aware, but because I've learned to deal. I've toughed it out. And maybe I shouldn't be the only person to have to do so.
Disoriented
Having a four day week is nice, but having the middle day off is disorienting. Tomorrow is Friday, which is usually my favorite day of the work week, and not because it's the weekend. No, Friday is my favorite day because it's Breakfast Club Friday on the 24th floor, where my office just happens to be. Every Friday morning, someone from the 24th floor brings in breakfast for the entire floor, and boy, do they get competitive. People have brought in their own toasters just so the rest of us can enjoy the maximum flavor of breakfast. This is the kind of competition even a Communist could love.
Thing is, half the reason why Breakfast Club Friday is so great is because by the time we've hit Friday, we've earned it. We break bread together but we also break pressure. We hold at bay the demands of work as we gather for a little bit and share a kind of communion. We chat. We enjoy ourselves. When breakfast comes only the second day after a holiday, though, the meal loses a little bit of its luster. There's something to be said for deserving what you get.
No? Some of you are shaking your heads.
Thing is, half the reason why Breakfast Club Friday is so great is because by the time we've hit Friday, we've earned it. We break bread together but we also break pressure. We hold at bay the demands of work as we gather for a little bit and share a kind of communion. We chat. We enjoy ourselves. When breakfast comes only the second day after a holiday, though, the meal loses a little bit of its luster. There's something to be said for deserving what you get.
No? Some of you are shaking your heads.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Midsummer Day's Dream
Happy Independence Day.
Today not only marks the day, 231 years ago, that a bunch of renegades took government into their own hands, but it also marks the mid-point of my adventure as a pretend attorney. It ought to be all downhill from here.
I have a hunch it's not, though.
Mid-summer review's next week and I can see it now: "Everyone really likes your work, KHC, but you can be a little slow with the memos and, for the love of God, remember to attach your attachments!"
It's also to time to start thinking seriously about whether San Diego is the place for me. And I'm just as surprised as you are. Had you told me six months ago I would be seriously considering a move to San Diego, I would have changed the subject. "East Coast" is written all over me. I subscribe to The New York Times. I carry an L.L. Bean tote bag. I wear pearl studs on my days off. I am a snob. None of these traits is particularly Southern California, and yet I'm enjoying it here. It has its downsides (no fall or winter wardrobe!), but it has so many upsides. Beautiful produce. Delicious fish. Pandas.
Of course, I could be getting ahead of myself. I need to get an offer before I can think about moving, and after Attachment-Gate, who knows about that. In which case, it's time to go look at the resume.
Today not only marks the day, 231 years ago, that a bunch of renegades took government into their own hands, but it also marks the mid-point of my adventure as a pretend attorney. It ought to be all downhill from here.
I have a hunch it's not, though.
Mid-summer review's next week and I can see it now: "Everyone really likes your work, KHC, but you can be a little slow with the memos and, for the love of God, remember to attach your attachments!"
It's also to time to start thinking seriously about whether San Diego is the place for me. And I'm just as surprised as you are. Had you told me six months ago I would be seriously considering a move to San Diego, I would have changed the subject. "East Coast" is written all over me. I subscribe to The New York Times. I carry an L.L. Bean tote bag. I wear pearl studs on my days off. I am a snob. None of these traits is particularly Southern California, and yet I'm enjoying it here. It has its downsides (no fall or winter wardrobe!), but it has so many upsides. Beautiful produce. Delicious fish. Pandas.
Of course, I could be getting ahead of myself. I need to get an offer before I can think about moving, and after Attachment-Gate, who knows about that. In which case, it's time to go look at the resume.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Pooky gets a pass
Californians like their dogs.
Yesterday I read a case in which two homeowners got to keep their dog, Pooky, in spite of the by-laws of their homeowners' association. The homeowners, who suffered from depression, said that Pooky helped with their symptoms, and therefore should be admitted as a medical service animal. The association didn't buy it, saying that Pooky was just a dog and wasn't trained as a service animal, and so he should go.
The court said, "Bah! Who needs training? The dog makes the people happy, let it in!"
Okay, so the court didn't say those words exactly, but it did say this, "[I]t was the innate qualities of a dog, in particular a dog's friendliness and ability to interact with humans, that made it therapeutic here." (citation omitted)
Your tax dollars hard at work, folks.
Yesterday I read a case in which two homeowners got to keep their dog, Pooky, in spite of the by-laws of their homeowners' association. The homeowners, who suffered from depression, said that Pooky helped with their symptoms, and therefore should be admitted as a medical service animal. The association didn't buy it, saying that Pooky was just a dog and wasn't trained as a service animal, and so he should go.
The court said, "Bah! Who needs training? The dog makes the people happy, let it in!"
Okay, so the court didn't say those words exactly, but it did say this, "[I]t was the innate qualities of a dog, in particular a dog's friendliness and ability to interact with humans, that made it therapeutic here." (citation omitted)
Your tax dollars hard at work, folks.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Bring it on
Whatever the work week brings, I am rested and I am ready. I am ready to work and to bill. I am ready to Contribute Something Interesting to the Discussion for the three-billionth time this summer. Yahoo.
I can't say enough about getting a good night's sleep, several nights in a row. It's better than ice cream. I should do it more often.
It all began Friday night, when San Diego Gas & Electric turned off my power. Even though I knew it was coming, there was something very final about "lights out" at 10pm. There was nothing to do but go to bed. It rocked. San Diego Gas & Electric should shut off my lights at 10pm every night. But only my lights, because I wouldn't want the food in the fridge to go bad.
Then on Saturday, I declined a social invitation. To an event I actually would have enjoyed. Whenever have I done that before? And this morning, I went back to crazy leftist South Park for breakfast at the Big Kitchen. God bless crazy leftists. They feed my soul.
I think my serenity was catching. On Saturday, I had lunch at a French bistro where the owner gave me an enormous oatmeal chocolate cookie for free. Later on, I stopped by See's Candies [FN1] where they gave me not one, but two, free samples.
Calories don't count when they're gifted to you.
-----
FN1. For the uninitiated, See's Candies is one of the most delicious reasons to live in California. Ask the Captain, he knows.
I can't say enough about getting a good night's sleep, several nights in a row. It's better than ice cream. I should do it more often.
It all began Friday night, when San Diego Gas & Electric turned off my power. Even though I knew it was coming, there was something very final about "lights out" at 10pm. There was nothing to do but go to bed. It rocked. San Diego Gas & Electric should shut off my lights at 10pm every night. But only my lights, because I wouldn't want the food in the fridge to go bad.
Then on Saturday, I declined a social invitation. To an event I actually would have enjoyed. Whenever have I done that before? And this morning, I went back to crazy leftist South Park for breakfast at the Big Kitchen. God bless crazy leftists. They feed my soul.
I think my serenity was catching. On Saturday, I had lunch at a French bistro where the owner gave me an enormous oatmeal chocolate cookie for free. Later on, I stopped by See's Candies [FN1] where they gave me not one, but two, free samples.
Calories don't count when they're gifted to you.
-----
FN1. For the uninitiated, See's Candies is one of the most delicious reasons to live in California. Ask the Captain, he knows.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Fans
One more post about the Red Sox and then I'll be quiet about them. For a little bit, at least.
Petco Park was packed with Red Sox fans all weekend. Everywhere you looked, the Fenway Faithful were in full force. When they started chanting "Let's go Red Sox!", I almost believed I was back in Boston.
On Sunday, I was seated a few rows behind a man with the Boston 'B' tattooed on his arm. The couple behind me was horrified. "Get a life, man," they said.
And that's when I knew I wasn't in Boston. Apparently, Padres fans - even the season ticket holders - have interests aside from baseball.
How about that.
Petco Park was packed with Red Sox fans all weekend. Everywhere you looked, the Fenway Faithful were in full force. When they started chanting "Let's go Red Sox!", I almost believed I was back in Boston.
On Sunday, I was seated a few rows behind a man with the Boston 'B' tattooed on his arm. The couple behind me was horrified. "Get a life, man," they said.
And that's when I knew I wasn't in Boston. Apparently, Padres fans - even the season ticket holders - have interests aside from baseball.
How about that.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Notes from the Road
A running list of tidbits from my cross-country trip (think of it as a blog in a blog):
1. Next to the baggage claim at Dulles International Airport, an insurance company has advertised, "What's lost can now be found." Clever. But disturbing, because who wants to think her luggage is lost?
2. On the drive to Charlottesville, I passed a restaurant which advertised, "We have crabs."
3. Things move slowly in the south. In San Diego, I'm usually getting out of others' way. But on my drive from Washington to Charlottesville, people were getting out of my way. Who knew that 75mph is speeding?
4. At the rehearsal dinner last night, Kaz asked me who "the panda" was. Well, duh.
5. After making this trip, I now know what love is. Love is taking the red-eye across the country, braving two hours' worth of morning rush hour in D.C., wending my way through rural roads to get to the church, staying coherent during the rehearsal in which I played a very small part, and talking at the rehearsal dinner with the ex-boyfriend who broke my heart. That is what love is. Needless to say, I love both the Bride and the Groom very much.
But I'm totally getting back at them.
1. Next to the baggage claim at Dulles International Airport, an insurance company has advertised, "What's lost can now be found." Clever. But disturbing, because who wants to think her luggage is lost?
2. On the drive to Charlottesville, I passed a restaurant which advertised, "We have crabs."
3. Things move slowly in the south. In San Diego, I'm usually getting out of others' way. But on my drive from Washington to Charlottesville, people were getting out of my way. Who knew that 75mph is speeding?
4. At the rehearsal dinner last night, Kaz asked me who "the panda" was. Well, duh.
5. After making this trip, I now know what love is. Love is taking the red-eye across the country, braving two hours' worth of morning rush hour in D.C., wending my way through rural roads to get to the church, staying coherent during the rehearsal in which I played a very small part, and talking at the rehearsal dinner with the ex-boyfriend who broke my heart. That is what love is. Needless to say, I love both the Bride and the Groom very much.
But I'm totally getting back at them.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
On my way to Virginia
I'm going to a wedding! And I'm not bringing my laptop.
Until I get back, think about this: the San Diego Transit Police (i.e., the people who check whether I have a valid ticket on the trolley) carry guns.
Is that really necessary?
Until I get back, think about this: the San Diego Transit Police (i.e., the people who check whether I have a valid ticket on the trolley) carry guns.
Is that really necessary?
Monday, June 4, 2007
Thinking
San Diego is a border town. It's not right on the border, but considering that the trolley I take to work is the same trolley that goes to Tijuana, San Diego is close enough.
Living in this border town, I see a few things I don't usually see in Boston. For one, the men who line up outside the Home Depot every morning are actual people, as opposed to the pictures I usually see in The New York Times. The line makes me sad. The Captain pointed out that the line isn't all bad, because people who need work are getting it and people who need work done are accomplishing it. What makes me sad, though, is when the well runs dry. When do the workers stop waiting? How long do they wait? How often do they wait for nothing? What are they thinking about?
On my way back from the trolley station tonight, a man in his car stopped to ask me about the trolley schedule. He wanted to know if his passenger, a Mexican worker, would be able to ride the trolley back to Tijuana. I told the driver how often the trolley ran in the morning, and where the worker would have to change trains in order to get back to Mexico. It struck me as odd; if the man were willing to drive the worker to the train station, then why not just drive him to the border? It's not that far.
The worker sat silently in the car, watching us privileged Americans discuss how best to deliver him back, away from here.
Photo credit: L. M. Otero/Associated Press
Living in this border town, I see a few things I don't usually see in Boston. For one, the men who line up outside the Home Depot every morning are actual people, as opposed to the pictures I usually see in The New York Times. The line makes me sad. The Captain pointed out that the line isn't all bad, because people who need work are getting it and people who need work done are accomplishing it. What makes me sad, though, is when the well runs dry. When do the workers stop waiting? How long do they wait? How often do they wait for nothing? What are they thinking about?
On my way back from the trolley station tonight, a man in his car stopped to ask me about the trolley schedule. He wanted to know if his passenger, a Mexican worker, would be able to ride the trolley back to Tijuana. I told the driver how often the trolley ran in the morning, and where the worker would have to change trains in order to get back to Mexico. It struck me as odd; if the man were willing to drive the worker to the train station, then why not just drive him to the border? It's not that far.
The worker sat silently in the car, watching us privileged Americans discuss how best to deliver him back, away from here.
Photo credit: L. M. Otero/Associated Press
Saturday, June 2, 2007
Goopy
Today I got a massage. It was...okay. I went to the guy's house, which probably wasn't the smartest thing, given that I am a single woman in a new city. But it turned out fine, except for the two Chinese Cresteds that kept jumping up and down and onto the table - even while I was on it. I was too polite to ask the guy to put the dogs in another room, but I probably won't be going back to him. (Second Roomie, the one who's into jiu jitsu, found him through her gym.) During the massage, the guy slathered on so much lotion that when everything was said and done, I was goopy. It is now on the insides of my clothes. Yuck.
Later on, I went to get a mani/pedi, because hey, the Bride and Groom are getting married next week. The manicurist also slathered on gobs of lotion. She put so much on one arm I thought she was going to move half to the other arm. Nope. All that goop was just for one arm. When she went to the second arm, I cut her off after an initial squirt, but even then, that was goopy.
Are San Diegans just a goopy people?
Later on, I went to get a mani/pedi, because hey, the Bride and Groom are getting married next week. The manicurist also slathered on gobs of lotion. She put so much on one arm I thought she was going to move half to the other arm. Nope. All that goop was just for one arm. When she went to the second arm, I cut her off after an initial squirt, but even then, that was goopy.
Are San Diegans just a goopy people?
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