Category Archives: Uncategorized

Bones, Thugs & Harmony time, kids.

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You know what is the tits? Being at a crossroads.

Now, you may find yourself scratching your head as a reaction to confusion. What do I mean with this ‘tits’ business? That’s the funny thing, I don’t know either. Change always has the same potential as a coin flip – It can either go well, or it can go bad.

(sidenote: Timm told me that ‘tits’ meant good. I disagree. Maybe it’s because I have ‘em.)

My LSAT score was terrible. The worst. It was lower than any of the gazillion practice tests I took at home. And I can’t decide what to do, beyond trying to rebuild my pride. Is this a sign? Should I take it again? Do I want to invest $2,000 in a prep course? Time will tell, kittens.

As graduation looms ahead, what is my game plan? Those damn crossroads are just ahead, waving like heat rays from a black, deserted highway. I can see it, I can feel it, I can even taste it: the panic, the fear, the hope.

All in all, life will work out. It always does. In the meantime, I have to learn how to sit tight and not mentally box myself into PANICHOLYSHIT mode. I’m no fun to be around when my thoughts are looped on how much life sucks and how it will never work out right unless you beat all options into a figurative bloody pulp. Look at me, maturing and shit.

To ensure this post does not get dismissed with cacophonous yawns and eye rolling, here is a video that made me cry those perfect, giant,  streaming tears of laughter.

M@ was right…

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30 isn’t scary at all. In fact, I actually think it’ll grow on me. My birthday was awesome, mostly because Drew entertained all my whims of the day. This included breakfast at Roxy’s, getting amazing Trophy Cupcakes, driving out to Golden Gardens Park in Ballard, and finishing with Death Cab for Cutie and The New Pornographers out at Marymoor Park. Seattle kept the festive mood going by giving me the perfect high 70’s sunshine to warm my soon-to-be-leathery old lady skin.

Kidding.

In other news, my official LSAT studying begins at the end of this month. The big day is September 26, so I’ll have two months of intensive, hair-pulling study sessions. Or my preparation will be a last-minute rush to figure out all the stupid logic games because I was too lazy to discipline myself to pouring over the study guide. Who am I kidding, it will most likely be the latter.

So how are your summers going? And why have we not hung out yet? Yes, I’m looking at you.

Panic at the Workplace

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I have this knot in my throat. The kind of knot that makes it hurt to swallow. I feel like I’m in the belly of the proverbial beast; my heart is racing and my breath is labored.

Oh, these damn butterflies – the unrelenting fluttering and quake in my stomach – make me want to curl up under my desk and wish this biochemical psychological shitstorm away.

This high level of anxiousness makes me ready for battle. But, for what? Why am I in this state today?

I think this is my body’s way of craving adventure. I’ve been hiding under rocks, under blankets, and under books. Perhaps this sudden wave of tension is my brain telling me to get out and experience that scary, weird world out there.

Invisibility cloak

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I’ve been quiet lately.

It’s not for lack of things to say. It’s almost as if I’ve forgotten how to say the things that are on my mind. I’ve been wrapped up in my head. Is it the looming 3-0 in July? Is it contentment? I’m not sure.

I’ve been obsessed with my future. School knocked my confidence this quarter. I signed up for a logic class to prepare for the LSAT. NOTHING has made me feel so dumb and so inadequate in all my life. My epic failure made me wonder if I’m even cut out for the cut-throat world of law. And what the hell makes me so damn confident that I’ll be able to right the wrongs in the world? Blind optimism? No, that’s not my style. Stubbornness? Most likely.

So now, faced with graduation hoovering in the near future and a summer filled with GRE and LSAT preparations, I’m having a crisis of faith. Faith in my abilities, faith in the economy, faith in success. What does it all mean, anyway?

Existential ponderings aside, I’m happy. Like, really really happy. Unfortunately this has resulted in a decreased need for friends. All of a sudden I’ve looked around and realized that I have stopped fostering and nuturing my friendships. I’m not sure what this means, or how it makes me feel. Lonely, disenfranchised, disappointed, or pleased? Who knows – probably all of the above.

03-26-09

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One late March day Drew and I got married. At the King County Courthouse. With three people as witnesses.

No, you aren’t the only one who didn’t know about it.

We want to get married for intensely personal reasons, but rest assured they are born out of deep love and commitment (see: I’m not pregnant, no one needs a Green Card, etc.). We started talking about this step a while back – while we were in Berlin for his birthday in October, specifically. No date was chosen, no ring was exchanged, but an idea was hatched.

A little backstory is due, I suppose. I’ve been opposed to the idea of marriage for a while. I wondered to myself what was the point of it anyway – it doesn’t prevent heartache, or dissolution of relationships, or guarantee security in this fluid and unpredictable world. Plus, I’ve considered it an institution which privileges heterosexuals, and I can’t really get behind such a discriminatory notion.

Two things changed, forcing me to reconsider my position: Prop 8 and falling in love. Yes, I know Prop 8 wasn’t a win in California. But it did get me wondering what all the fuss was about (beyond the idea that *gasp* everyone should have equal access to state-sanctioned unions, if they choose to). It made me reconsider what marriage really is and why it was worth the fight. I have since concluded that it essentially a demarcation and symbol of a bond between two people. Whether it is love-driven, tradition-driven, situation-driven, etc., it is a way of shaking your collective fists to the world and saying “Fuck you, we’re stronger than you. I double-dog dare you to hurt my partner. I will knife you, so say we all.” That’s my take, anyway.

The falling in love part needs no explanation.

Oh, here’s a photo. It is intentionally unprofessional and casual, as we felt this was ultimately about us (we are, in every sense of being, casual and laidback), but it oozes the happiness we felt and the solidarity we exhibited in that courtroom to our families, to our friends, and to each other. That is why on a cold October night in Berlin, after three months of long-distance dating, we knew this is where our lives were heading. And it wasn’t scary at all.

(peeps: Zach, Drew, me, Justin, and Kat [sister-in-law has a weirdly awesome ring to it]. Photo by Judge Kato, the most awesome and personable Judge I’ve ever met. Not that I’ve met a lot, but you get the gist.)

The next day was my Grandpa’s birthday. I drove down to Gig Harbor to visit him in the aftercare facility* and answered his casual “What have you been up to during Spring Break” question with a nonchalant “I got married and went to the Space Needle.” It was priceless.

* This merits an entirely different post. It’s emotional, so it may take me a while. Apologies.

Too lazy and too cold

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So, I made it back to Seattle just in time to witness an epic snowstorm. Apparently Capitol Hill doesn’t rank highly on important neighborhoods to the city because it’s still a giant pain in the ass to get off of my street. As I trekked out to Gig Harbor yesterday to spend Christmas with the family, I managed to get stuck going DOWNHILL. Thankfully someone pitied me trying to dig the tires out with an ice scraper and pushed me out.

As always, the holidays have been a bit dicey. I found out that while I was in Denmark my Grandpa was diagnosed with stage IIIa lung cancer and had his second chemo treatment on Christmas eve. Cancer is always a bitch to deal with, but when it rains down on a man who has basically been a father to you, it feels like a sucker punch. He’s dealing with it like a trooper, so I guess I have to as well.

New Years Eve should be a lot better, ushering in a new chapter of my life. Drew and I will be making the harrowing drive up from the Bay Area with some of his stuff in a van, so think happy thoughts for us. Also, think happy thoughts for clear roads as I have to be back in class the morning of January 5th.

Anyway, I would’ve hoped for a more eloquent and thought-proving update, but my feet are a bit numb and my mind is currently a bit blown by a very welcomed blast from the past, so I’ll post more when I come down.

I tried to take a break from the internet but failed.

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Prague, oh Prague.

It’s good for me to be in a country that isn’t super accessible to English speakers. I have Denmark and Berlin to thank for warping my fragile mind into thinking every EU country is cool with it. It’s arrogant, and I’m glad to have that notion challenged. It’s a difficult city to navigate because of this language barrier (and even character barrier – I can’t quite grasp what all the letters sound like), but sometimes being lost and confused is a good thing.

Also, there is something to be said for a city that was untouched by WWII. There is a definite aged quality to Prague, something markedly different than the other European cities. Both the people and the buildings have a distinctive weathered and charming character. I’m staying in a cool little hostel 20 meters away from Kostel Matky Boží před Týnem which is an incredible sight and sound to wake up to in the morning. This afternoon I will go frolic in Malá Strana to blow some time before the Prague Royal Orchestra performance.

As I bid farewell to Europe in such a grand, epic way, I’m grateful for all the steps that got me here: deciding to go back to school, deciding to study abroad, all my friends who helped me edit my essay to apply for the Denmark program, and to myself for being a brave and somewhat reckless person who never thinks risks through all the way. I’m worried about going home to such poor economic conditions while racking up more student loan debt, but fuck it – this has been worth it.

Anyway, off I go. Besitos to you all.

Hot damn

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My last week here in Europe is shaping up to be an intense one.

First, I wasn’t aware/spaced out/totally forgot that I have an oral exam on Friday. And this ORAL EXAM (egads) is in front of more than one person. I am guessing that this project really does resemble a Masters thesis with each passing day. I’m not sure what to expect, but here’s to hoping that it isn’t a total disaster. I need any luck you can spare, as I’m woefully unprepared.

Second, I booked tickets to go to the Prague Royal Orchestra next Tuesday. It seems like one of the ways to mesh two loves: cellos and castles. The concert is in St. George’s Basilica, which is located in Prague Castle. Beyond the concert, I have no plans for Prague, so any suggestions are welcome. Plus, I’ll be traveling alone so I have no ones agenda holding me down.

Third, I’ll be back in Seattle on Thursday, so let’s meet up for coffee or something. I’m really excited to be back, and am a bit surprised it’s already time to come home.

Lastly, while it’s something I don’t really talk about here (or with anyone, really) I just wanted to brag for a minute that December is my 5th month of sobriety. Being in Europe without drinking has been really difficult, but totally worth the struggle. I know the holidays are really rough on me and typically a time to get blackout-drunk. Since I know other folks have a similar distaste for these days, I’d like to try to make it a more positive time for me and my people. Cookie and tea parties, anyone?

Finals, DK style

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Imagine this: you walk around a room talking to all kinds of people about various issues on your mind, like gender and sex politics, the Third World (or Global South if you are a leftie like me), post-colonization Europe, etc. And out of this ‘conversation’ you start to find people who think a bit like you, or who at least are interested in the same shit you are. And out of this experience, you commit to doing a project together to explore some question. This is the foundation of the Roskilde University group project.

My group consisted of all Communication and Journalism folks, and this isn’t coincidental. I proposed a project before this group formation process. My proposal was focused on newspapers, so other people into journalism gravitated in my general direction so we could sniff each other out. And we found that we had similar views. Shortly thereafter, my group was born and we dove right into research.

The university learning model here is almost explicitly theory driven. While at UW we obviously use theory, it is used in a supportive cast role than a central figurehead way. So throughout the project formation process people kept asking me which theorists I’d be using, I shrugged and said it’d come with time. To me working with theory didn’t seem as interesting as doing the research, seeing what we could uncover, and only then find some theorists to help explain the results. This small divide in approach to group work soon became a bigger and bigger issue.

I came up with some theorists to satisfy my group. I figured since we were doing image and text analysis, we’d use Norman Fairclough’s Critical Discourse Analysis. Someone else recommended we use Brigette Frello’s (a Roskilde University professor) work on homeland and nation identity as the other central piece. And armed with these two central theories as a starting point to dive in to our project in early October.

Oh, our project? Well thankfully for me, it remained intact from my original proposal. I wanted to take a look at articles on immigration from U.S. and Danish newspapers and see if there were any similarities between the ways immigrants are talked about. It’s a simple project formed out of the parallels between proposed immigration reforms in both countries, and since the whole point of my study abroad program is to study immigration and race and gender why not look to newspapers as a site of analysis? Plus, I have a long history with newspaper production and I wanted to explore how powerful they are in contributing to how people talk and think. And equally as awesome was the fact we had Danish speakers in our group, so we could do untranslated discourse analysis, adding some fuel to our claims.

We added more theorists as we moved along, because we started looking at power structures and how discourse contributes to truth (Michel Foucault), and to explain how immigration and remittances and gender and neoliberalism all are intertwined we applied transnational feminism, we brought in some more specific discourse analysis theory to apply to newspapers, with then threw a little image analysis theory on top.

Needless to say, our project turned into a beast. Sure, a tamable beast, but a beast nonetheless. As the end of November came, the six of us in the group started spending 12 hours a day together. We’d meet up at an apartment in Copenhagen, armed with shitty snack food, our laptops, headphones and iPods, loads of caffeine, and our snarky selves. These intense academic days drove me nuts. I’d work on these same pages for hours at a time, trying to figure out why Foucault changed his mind on discursive power so many times, or how the World Bank could use such obvious gender stereotypes to form worldwide economic policies on folks sending money to the Global South. It was tough – but that’s what I came here for.

The final stretch about killed me. I’m not even kidding. By 7:30 pm last Thursday I was crippled with pain radiating from the top of my head to the bottom of my shoulder blades. My vision was shot, I was nauseous, and I could not form coherent sentences any more. I left my group to finish the conclusion without me, laid in bed in the fetal position with all my lights off, and cried myself to sleep. It was horrible, and most likely the result of 8 weeks of intense writing and academic research, shitty eating, and inadequate sleep.

As I took all our printed pages to a copy shop yesterday morning, I watched a man poke holes in the pages we worked so hard on, and in that rhythm of the hole punching I started to let it go: all that tension in my body, the frustration I had with myself and my group at various points during the project, and the guilt that I had about leaving my group to wrap things up at the last minute. When I finally dropped off the project and started to walk away, the emotional weight melted off. I was left with unadulterated pride. We did it. I did it.

I approached this project, and Denmark in general, as a test to myself. Am I going to get something out of being back in school (again) this time? Do I have the gusto to actually make a difference in the world? Can I be disciplined and tough on myself? I think I proved I am and I can and I did. And now I have this 119 page project to prove it.

MEMEMEMEMEMEME

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I am desperate for a break from Norman Fairclough and Critical Discourse Analysis. Plus, two of my favorite bloggers did it, and this bandwagon is winking mighty flirtatiously with me.

1. My uncle once: took me out dancing with his boyfriend, their friends, my friends, and my Grandfather.

2. Never in my life: have I craved pho so much.

3. When I was five: my mom passed away.

4. High school was: confusing. My identity was always in flux. Was I an academic? Was I political? Was I gay? Was I straight? Oy, I’m so glad that is all over with.

5. I will never forget: the feeling of warm sand between my toes.

6. Once I met: Kate Hudson at Slim’s in San Francisco during Chris Robinson’s set.

7. There’s this girl I know: who is so amazing and inspiring and makes me think motherhood is totally doable. (This applies to a couple amazing people, actually)

8. Once, at a bar: in Paris I started smoking after a two year break. Thankfully, I quit again.

9. By noon, I’m usually: antsy from too much coffee.

10. Last night: I fell asleep listening to Mogwai.

11. If only I had: an ability to secure a rad, cheap apartment before returning to Seattle.

12. Next time I go to church: I will probably shift uncomfortably and mock everyone in the safe recesses of my mind.

13. What worries me most: is making sure I find a decent apartment to accommodate my partner-in-crime.

14. When I turn my head left I see: a small wooden stool.

15. When I turn my head right I see: my portable hard drive of DOOOOOOOM.

16. You know I’m lying when: I say “uh” a lot.

17. What I miss most about the Eighties is: my bright pink and neon green striped polo shirt. It was rad.

18. If I were a character in Shakespeare I’d be: Mercutio. I can be a long-winded prankster, and someone mucking things up for others. Plus, I like being a background player.

19. I have a hard time understanding: pedagogy at RUC.

20. If I ever go back to school: Tough titters, I’m already there.