Sliding Down the Ladder of Success

My boss has been on jury duty and asked me at the last minute, if I could drive to Sacramento today to take over his client consultations. I LOVE doing client consults so I did a quick rolodex flip in my brain, saw no pressing issues on my agenda, and immediately said, "yes." I expected a long drive to and from, which I decided to view as refreshingly solitary rather than flat, hot and boring. I expected a few client meetings, resulting in some new cases and the usual underappreciation by my boss. When I looked at his schedule I saw that the day would be packed, morning to evening. No problem-o!

I left home 2 1/2 hours early so I could get to our Sacramento office with some extra time to settle in and prepare myself. It was not to be so. The 8 minute drive from my house to the freeway took 39 minutes because the San Mateo Bridge is broken/on fire/blocked by spilled concrete/jammed and basically, entirely shut down. I was starving, I had to pee, I was running late. I called my first client and set our appointment back a bit. By the time I finally got to Sacramento, having diligently followed my MapQuest directions, I realized that I was driving away from downtown and towards fields. Our office is not in the fields. I drove in a huge circle, finally realized I could just ask someone for directions, did so and made a u-turn and drove in a huge circle the other way. I ended up back where I started, when I stopped at a gas station because that's where all the cartographers gather, of course.

Turns out the High Street Bridge is closed. Uh huh. Lovely. So I was given an alternate set of directions, which finally took me downtown, and I was so late by this time that my first (rescheduled) client was sitting there waiting with my second client. I did a round of apologies and explanations, took the first client into the office, and got started. I was a bit harried from traveling and stressed about being late and I kept dropping my pen and papers as I was settling in.

As we discussed his case, I began to fidget with my boss' adjustable chair. The left arm rest was perfectly aligned but the right arm rest was far too low. I looked my client in the eye, continued our conversation and felt along the right side of the chair. Where there is usually a knob to adjust arm rest height was nothing. I leaned to the right a bit and reached lower. Aha! I hit upon a lever, and confidently pulled it up. As I did so, I heard the sound of air releasing and my seat steadily dropped several inches until I was barely chest level with the desk.

All this time I was talking case management strategies with the client, making eye contact and trying to impress him with our firm's professionalism. Sitting at a big boy's desk like a munchkin. And I dared not re-adjust my seat height as it would simply bring more attention to my faux pas. Instead, I pretended I was perfectly comfortable peering up at my notes and the client appeared unfazed. Inside, I was dying to laugh. So much of my life lately is about rearranging myself and trying to adjust to unexpected situations. It was so nice to get to do that in a way that allows me to laugh at myself.

Can I get some advice?

I was working on a documentary/oral family history about my grandmother's life (in short, she was engaged at 12 in Iran, had an arranged marriage a few years later, spoke 4 languages, and in many ways is a very modern woman who now lives in the U.S.).

I have some film footage already because I was desperate to record whatever I could before Alzheimer's got the best of her. Now she's had a stroke, can barely speak, and the memory loss is greater. :( I'm heartbroken, and I've since given up on the project.

But now I'm thinking about how it would be a nice tribute to her. But what do I do now? I don't have enough footage to create my documentary. Do I change it to a documentary about my trying to make this film about my grandmother and what she is dealing with at the end of her life? Do I make it a documentary about the various Persian Jewish women in my life, with my grandmother being one of them? That seems kind of directionless and I'm still in love with the idea of focusing on her.

I'm worried about disrespecting her because in Persian culture you do not share your moments of weakness with the world. She had a lot of pride and I know her dignity was always important to her. So I think she would not want to be seen this way. On the other hand, she has always been interested in sharing what she knows and what she has lived.

Anal-Retentives of the World, Unite and Take Over!

Morrissey had his thing for shoplifters, I have my thing for office supplies, and perhaps a confluence of the two would be shoplifting office supplies. Minor office supply cabinet pilfering aside (and really, it's barely a thing, maybe a highlighter pen here and there on my way to a field meeting, which I later put in my purse and forget to return to the office stash- though I admit I find binder clips fascinatingly tempting . . . but that doesn't mean one should assume I lay my sticky fingers on them for non-work purposes, ahem), I get a certain joy in buying office supplies.

Okay, I get a certain joy in simply perusing the meticulous aisles of an office supply store, especially independently owned establishments that also carry a lot of caligraphy and art supplies, neither of which I have any use for, and Japanese stationary stores, with their variety of colored filing folders and colored notebooks and erasers in the shapes of hamburgers or maki rolls that send me into an over-stimulated, mouth-gaping trance. I have a love for things I do not need, and even after considering how I can find a way to need the object in order to justify it's purchase ("Hmmm...this graph lined notebook would be perfect for trigonometry class, but I don't take trigonometry class . . . But!! I could use it to practice perfecting my Hebrew script, each letter perfectly spaced, height and width . . . like Jewish serial killer handwriting . . ."), still do not need.

But the fantasy of a streamlined, organized life lures me in, so I am forever struggling with the inclination to buy versus the inclination not to add to my clutter, which, more than separation of Church and State, is the quintessential American struggle. And which is ironic, since the appeal of the stationary and office supplies, which add to my clutter, is the promise of a more organized, birthday-remembering, filing system wizard, everything-has-it's-place-and-is-exactly-there, Me.

But! There is nothing wrong with looking, right? And I found my new favorite place to peek. Under "Shop by Product," they actually list a category entitled "Life Organization" (cue angels singing). They sell punctuated page marks! What the hell are those?! Something I've never thought of in my life but suddenly am very desirous of, for Lord only knows what purpose. It's not only full of pretty office supplies, but it has all these great articles about getting organized that I plan to print out, read, and file away right on top of that mountain of paper on my desk.

Might as well start talking to myself, that way I'm guaranteed an audience.

A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Hottie and I were doing some shopping at Trader Joe's. We were meandering along each aisle, and when we reached the dried fruits and nuts (I feel like there should be a joke there, but nothing comes to mind just yet. Probably for the best.) I faced the shelves and commented, "I love cashews but I can't buy them because I never stop eating them." The inventory clerk who was standing next to me, restocking the dried peaches, paused and slowly turned to look at me, and said, "Uhh.....Oh."

Puzzled, I turned to the my right, looking for Mr. Hottie, who was nowhere to be found! I had inadvertently been talking to myself (Don't you hate when that happens, and doesn't it seem to happen most often in grocery stores?). I realized how strange my cashew nut announcement must have seemed in the absence of my intended audience, so I laughed and told the clerk that I was talking to my friend, who must have headed in another direction. He laughed in relief, and I said, "Oh, you must have thought that I just make random announcements in the grocery aisles!" We contemplated a visit to the dairy refrigerator, where I would stare straight ahead at the milk and announce, "I like the organic milk, but I never seem to finish it before the expiry date" and off to the sauces aisle where he would share his feelings on stocking glass jars.

For the Morning Lazies

I think I need this little guy.

Hearsay, Relevance, and Business Records

Well, after a hellish couple of months and some crazy interactions with my unprofessional boss who took his vacation while we had a couple of cases up for trial....I had my first trial today. I wasn't lead counsel, so I didn't present the opening argument, or ask the witness questions, or present the evidence, but I did most of the work and all of the research that lay the foundation for our argument. My crazy, newly-tanned boss, who just got back this weekend, wasn't even familiar with the underlying case or any of the case law that set precedent until two days ago, when he read my summaries.

Anyways, while it was not fun having to prep for trial with neither the proper support staff nor guidance, not to mention a lack of proper research tools, presenting the actual trial was invigorating and gave me a shot of much-needed inspiration to continue in my profession. It turned out fine because my first time in trial, I didn't actually have much pressure to perform so I was able to concentrate on everything that was going on and review the proceedings with a critical eye. And it was validating to see my research, arguments, and words make up a strong case. I was also waiting for my first chance to exclaim, "Objection!" but nothing came up that I needed to object to.

The Secret

A couple of months ago, I happened upon an Oprah episode that was actually an update show on a previous show she did on something called "The Secret." It seemed very interesting, and to have inspired quite a response from her viewers, so I watched and tried to figure out what this secret was. It turns out it is a movie, and a book, and an audio CD and a huge cash cow for those involved in disseminating it. ;) But it's also worth looking into, with a skeptical eye and an open mind.

The basic premise is that there is a universal "law of attraction" at work in the world, and the energy you emit directly influences the energy that returns to you. The friendly metaphysicians who bring you "The Secret" focus a bit too much on the direct impact of our thoughts, instead of explaining more that our thoughts drive our actions, and our actions are also key in bringing about the results we hope for in our lives.

I do recommend the movie, however, because there is value in any kind of philosophy that leads us to question our own approaches to our lives and our attitudes. There is also, in my opinion and my experience, some truth to what is being taught in "The Secret." It's interesting to me how spiritual truths are arrived at by different paths, and that common answer points to a universality that cannot be denied.

The Hasidim teach that G-d is a mirror, and the face with which you look upon G-d is the face with which G-d will look upon you. Not only your perception, but your actual life experiences are impacted by your attitude.

There is a story in Native American history that teaches the importance of recognizing the power of our thoughts as well. An Indian chief was talking to his tribe one night and told them there were two dogs inside his mind. One was a white dog who was good and courageous, the other a black dog who was vengeful and spiteful. He told the tribe the dogs were fighting to the death. A brave, not able to wait for the end of the story, asked, "Which one of them will win?" The chief responded, "The one I feed."

Rilke and Cookies

"Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live with them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, some day far in time, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

~ Rilke

I'll Tumble 4 Ya

Last night, I literally tumbled into Hot Date. He came to pick me up for our second date of the weekend (and ever!) and when I came downstairs, I walked towards him to give him a hug, and I must have been over-excited or something because I tripped over nothing and landed in his chest. Very goofy.

"Love and marriage, love and marriage"

"It is wrong to think that love comes from a long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity, and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created in years or even generations."
- Kahlil Gibran

i don't completely agree that the love that is developed over time is not a true love, but i understand that spiritual affinity he is describing and it is a very special type of love. i think because he came from a culture in which arranged marriages were the norm, he felt very strongly about the love that springs organically. i read some persian poetry and i've noticed that the idea of love that is celebrated in poetry and art is removed from the idea of the perfect marriage and mate, at least traditionally. persians are very romantic but more in the tragic sense, since what is good is what is good for the community, not what is good for the individual (very little notion of individuality, in fact), so marriage is based on pragmatic concerns and love either occupied other spheres or hopefully grew in the marriage.

What the World Needs Now

Did you know about the International Day of Possibility? It's on June 21, 2007, and you can register your intention to ignore "thoughts of impossibility!" Ready, set, go!

G-d kissed her on the cheek and there she was

Sometimes we make things too complicated. Since I am not a morning person and ignore my alarm until that point where I have no choice but to leap out of bed and rush to work, out of necessity, I have become very adept at a streamlined routine. I put on basic makeup, make an attempt at restraining the wild hair, and throw on coordinating professional pieces, which I purchased to match with several other pieces in my wardrobe.

Yes, it works, but my haphazard morning routine leaves a bit to be desired, and I sometimes wonder if my routine is too simple, if I should make more of an effort....Maybe I have part of the formula correct, though, as it pertains to simplicity, and have to approach it differently. Less harried, less frazzled, more calm, more polished. Simple.

I love this summation of Audrey Hepburn's style, by her son, Sean Ferrer:

"Style is a word we use often and for a multitude of purposes. In the case of my mother, Audrey Hepburn, it was the extension of an inner beauty held up by a life of discipline, respect for the other and hope in humanity. lf the lines were pure and elegant it was because she believed in the power of simplicity. lf there was timelessness it was because she believed in quality and if she still is an icon of style today it is because once she found her look she stayed with it throughout her life. She didn't go with the trends, didn't reinvent herself every season. She loved fashion but kept it as a tool to compliment her look.

In effect she used the same unspoken dress codes, if there are any, that an English Gentleman would use. Better always to be underdressed than overdressed. Don't attract attention.

Less is more. What is cheap, ends up being expensive and what is expensive ends being cheap; better to buy one good pair of shoes that will last and that fit (always a half size larger) than several pairs that won't last. Take good care of your clothes because they are the first impression of you. So when she appeared it didn't scream out "look at me" but "this is me . no better than you". And she truly believed in that. She didn't see herself as anything special or unusual. Which is why she worked so hard and was always pleasant and professional. Her style was just an extension of who she was. The person we all admired because down deep we knew that we saw was not just clever packaging but an honest and 100% genuine human being.

Billy Wilder, her great friend and extraordinary director, said it best, 'G-d kissed her on the cheek and there she was.'"

All the Hemispheres - Hafiz

All the Hemispheres

Leave the familiar for a while.

Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season

Onto the meadows and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.

Make a new water-mark on your excitement

And love.

Like a blooming night flower,

Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness

And giving

Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

All the hemispheres in existence

Lie beside an equator

In your heart.

Greet Yourself

In your thousand other forms

As you mount the hidden tide and travel

Back home.

All the hemispheres in heaven

Are sitting around a fire

Chatting

While stitching themselves together

Into the Great Circle inside of

You.

~Hafiz

Pillow Porn

I can't believe I missed it again! My crazy city by the bay had a public pillow fight on Valentine's Day and sadly, I was elsewhere. I don't even remember where, so clearly it was not a hot date. Judging by the pictures I've posted (from the Laughing Squid website), I missed quite a partay. You probably did, too, loser. Man, next year in Justin Herman Plaza!

"I'm from the Bay where we hyphy"

I thought I was over hip hop for a while, until something new and less materialistic, less misogynistic, less self-aggrandizing comes along in the scene. And that was okay with me, because I have enough Common, Mos Def, Roots, Black Eyed Peas, Missy and dancehall to listen and dance to for a bit, until the music scene shifts and comes back with something more inspired again.

But then I noticed props given to the Bay Area on slate.com for the best new style of hip hop. USA Today even gave the Bay some love. I was going to tell you all about Peter, Bjorn & John, but I got all distracted and stupid over hyphy, yarrimean?

Thank Goodness for Progress

My housemate is doing Weight Watchers. She has lost about 9 pounds in 4 weeks or so, and while I am inspired, I don't know if it's worth getting up at 5:30 a.m. every morning. I need 8 hours of sleep, and I mean, how early can one go to bed, anyways? I vote for chubby and well-rested.

Weight Watchers has a point system and I don't fully understand it but my housemate chose the flex plan so she can eat whatever she wants as long as they are within the correct point parameters. Good thing it's 2007, not 1974, when she would have been encouraged to eat Hot Wrap Ups, Bean and Mushroom Salad, and a curious little delicacy called Fluffy Mackerel Pudding. No wonder people lost weight.

Definitely check out Wendy McClure's collection of Weight Watcher's recipe cards and clever comments. And stay away from the bong water.

This Explains It All

According to extraordinary horoscope writer (is he an astrologist? I don't know, but he is certainly a writer) Rob Brezny, there have been obstructions interfering with my love flow! And I will remove them, but damn, homey, I wish you had informed me about this before. I don't know if I can handle the flood that will result from unplugging the stoppage, but Mr. Brezny promises a libidinous thrill.

"Happy Valentine Daze, Leo! I predict that more love will flow into your life in the future. Why? Because beginning now, you will remove the obstructions that have been interfering with that flow. That's not all. More love will flow into your life because you'll decide that you are actually very lovable--more lovable than you've previously acknowledged. That's not all. More love will flow into your life because you will vow to invoke in yourself a tremendous surge of willpower that will make you hungry to give love, to bestow blessings, and to extend favors. You'll derive deep pleasure, a real libidinous thrill, from radiating generous emotions in all directions."

P.S. Those who know me in real life might see the connection between this and the meaning of my name. Yay!

You Are Really Good

Something really cute happened yesterday. My adorable (and when I say “adorable,” she really is and I really do adooooore this kid) 7 year old cousin brought her felt-tipped color pens and paper to a family event. Bored by the grown-ups, I started playing around with her pens. I love art supplies but unfortunately, my artistic abilities never graduated past the elementary school level. The height of my artistic collection took place in the 7^th and 8^th grades, when I created cartoon characters called Woogles or something like that, who had spiky hair (like Lisa Simpson mixed with Sideshow Bob, but this was before I ever saw the Simpsons) and lived on the beach near palm trees topped with fronds that looked exactly like their hair. The Woogles’ universe was populated by Airwalk and Quicksilver stickers in addition to other surf/skate logos and they lived carefree lives that had nothing to do with boring Ms. Kavalnes’ literature class that never kept up with my devouring of books (she finally began supplying me with books the class would get to 2 months later and impacted my romantic imagination by handing over a copy of “Jane Eyre”) and confusing Mr. Arney’s beginning Algebra class that I could never keep up with (“x?” When did “x” become a number?!).

Anyways, yesterday Miss Adorable came up to see what I was doodling, which was nothing in particular. I am the type that yearns to draw, paint, sing, play doumbek, and whose actual attempts are painfully, disappointingly light years away from the beauty I envision in my mind. But with Miss Adorable peering so curiously onto the page, I felt I owed it to her to make a real effort to draw something entertaining. So I asked her if she would like it if I drew her. I was a bit nervous, as Miss Adorable is already a Certified Perfectionist, and I did not want to insult her standards nor her ego with my miserable abilities. I very carefully drew two big brown eyes, to which Miss Adorable astutely observed, “You start with the eyes,” and I realized, yes I do, I always do that. I carefully added eyelashes, eyebrows, and nose, explaining that the little spaces I left open were nostrils. “I have round nostrils,” she said in agreeance with my illustration, and noted the differences between our nostrils. After we analyzed our respective nostrils, Miss Adorable became the first person ever, well, since the time my artwork was refrigerator-worthy, to say, with a hint of awe, “You’re a good drawer!”

If it’s possible to beam on the inside, I surely did. I tend to be the type that is deaf to compliments and magnifies insults. But this compliment welled up inside me and swirled around in ribbons of happiness. I remembered to demurely insist, “No, I can’t really draw.” “Noooo,” Miss Adorable insisted with the authority of someone who spends a good half of her academic life focused intently with a colored pen or pencil in hand, “You are good! You’re really good!”

I then remembered to insert two little lines for divets underneath the nose, and first I touched the corresponding indentation between her nose and upper lip to show her and then she touched it to check. I explained apologetically that I didn’t know what that was called (I've since educated myself) but she seemed happy enough to know I was being thorough in my replication. As I drew her lips in hot pink, Miss Adorable again praised my skills.

Filled with confidence, I tried to draw in each little baby tooth individually instead of making a line across and separating the teeth with little vertical lines. This over-confident attempt was a complete failure and I was feeling rather deflated because I had turned her gorgeous smile into a collection of Chiclets. Yet, Miss Adorable continued to express how impressed she was by my skills. I felt like I was the eager child hoping to please and Miss Adorable was the encouraging adult convinced she was witnessing genius potential. I finished the portrait with generous sweeps of brown curliques on her head (“I don’t have hair growing from the sides of my ears!” she commented as her sole critique. “That’s the hair from behind your ears,” I assured her). I asked Miss Adorable if she would like to help me draw her hair, and she consented, confidently drawing tighter curls across her face and shortening her forehead significantly. When she was done, I signed the portrait and handed it back to her, feeling prouder of this little drawing than I have felt of recent, more grown-up accomplishments. She assessed the portrait again, nodding her little head in satisfaction and saying as she walked away, “Yeah, you are really good.” And I sat there thinking, no matter how accomplished or how much money we make or how much we are loved, we all need to hear somebody say that to us sometimes.

I am so busy at work and have taken up the lovely habit of waking up in the middle of the night thinking about cases, and waking up in the morning trying to convince myself that it will be a good day despite having to spend the bulk of my waking hours at the office.

Mr. Bossman really knows how to kill morale. It's amazing. I need to find the antidote to his extraodinary powers.

Anyways, I'm keeping afloat, knowing that all this will simply make my upcoming vacation even more delectable.