i like the socratic method. it is terrifying, strikes fear into the strongest of hearts being called on in front of the class to be harassed into answering any and every twisted question or hypothetical that the professor can muster. and, let me assure you, they can muster a lot. you are expected to have an answer and and an argument on the spot because that is what lawyers do. they think on the spot. they have answers for everything. they don't hesitate. they don't show fear. neither should we. the point of law school is to torture students into being brave.
it works. the socratic method makes me work really hard learn the law because 1) i don't want to look like an idiot, and 2) i don't want to let my professor down. when a professor cold-calls on me, it feels like they have entrusted me with the sacred task of teaching a concept. i want to rise to the calling, to show them that their spontaneous and voluntary trust has been well placed.
i don't feel this same symbiosis, teamwork, interdependence with teachers that don't call on me out of the blue, who give me fair and reasonable warning that they are planning on making an idiot out of me on a given day. when i am given time to prepare, i don't prepare as well. and i only prepare for when my preparation is necessary.
apparently i like hard knocks. does that make me self-destructive or gangster? is there a difference? jay-z probably knows.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
i love hope. i haven't always. i saw it as the lesser sister of faith. faith is power. faith is action. faith moves mountains. hope pales in comparison. or so i thought.
hope is a lot sneakier than i originally gave her credit for. hope has a dual identity. it can be a wish, a desire for far off and possibly undeserved, unrealistic somethings. it can be passive and dispassionate, as unassertive as "when you wish upon a star." not that i dislike wishing on stars. i love it. but i never expect those wishes to fall into my lap. i expect to work for the things that i want. saying a wish is not enough. having a hope is not enough.
but, hope can also be something much more powerful. it is a principle of strength. hope is that bright little light that gets you through, keeps you moving. it is the calm that inspires faith, trust, belief, and confidence in the promise of possibility, and the might to hold on when the other, bigger virtues fail you. this hope is not completely separate from the other. it gets its sweetness from its wishfulness, from its ability to believe, even if just a little, in something better.
"Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, but sure and steadfast..." Hebrews 6:19
i have been known to sing in the shower. and by sing i mean put on full concerts. like, sold-out-show-in-the-vienna-opera-house style, holding nothing back, belting it out like that famous fat lady.
today i sang for the first time in my new shower. i've been showering silently since we moved in, hesitant to give my roommates tangeable evidence that i am a weirdo. but today, i just couldn't help myself. i mean, the shower is huge and echo-y, and after humming a few notes to test the acoustics, i was a gonner. there was nothing for it but to sing.
here is my typical shower playlist:
only the most emotional and melodious songs make the cut for shower-time-singing. it is not the venue for hip-hop, and rap sounds ridiculous bouncing off the walls reminding me repeatedly that i am, in fact, not black. no, the shower a place where emotions run free.
my singing career started when i was 3 or 4. i made up my own songs then, though. my favorites were, "flowers grow and flowers die" and "you are precious, precious to me". not only are those the titles of the songs, they are the lyrics as well, repeated to taste. i later advanced to "somewhere out there" the reading rainbow theme. it has exploded from there.
it has recently come to my attention that i know next to no boyz II men. i'm pretty embarrassed admitting that. especially since they would make such an amazing addition to the playlist mentioned above. starting the day off with this song and a nice shower just feels right.
maybe i love watching downton abbey as much as i do because it feels like watching my life, or, at least, my grandmother. just look at them, violet and effie dean, empresses of their own domains:
one and the same. two peas in a pod. they would be best friends if the laws of physics and reality would permit. oh, the tea-parties that would be had, the jewelry that would be sported, the side-comments that would be made. my grandmother is living proof that the british aristocracy is not dead. not even in america. court is still held, lavish dinner parties still thrown, capes still worn, and right here on normandie circle.
this regal woman
has had a profound influence on my life. before you meet her you should know that she insists on being called grandmother. nothing else will do. believe me. i have tried using other names and on one such occasion, she informed me that i had one last chance before i was dead to her. i did get away with calling her "ganagome" when i was little, but that was only because i was so darling. however, her hearing isn't what it once was...
like lady violet, grandmother is a strong woman with a strong personality, a strong will, and a knack for surviving. ever since my granddad died 16 years ago, she has presided over our family. but i am willing to bet that even when granddad was alive grandmother still manned the helm. that's just who she is. that's just what she does. she has taught me much of the power that determined, tough, spirited women have. she often tells me that i am capable of anything and she believes it enough to make it true.
i used to think that my grandmother was like a female dumbledore. now i know that she is really violet, dowager countess of grantham.
since i graduated from high school i have moved no less than 15 times. i admit, part of that is because i bounced back and forth between utah and arizona in the summers, but i still had to pack and unpack and repack all of my junk.
this year has been no exception to the moving trend in my life. i moved back to salt lake from provo and into a little place in sugar house where i lived until the end of december. at that point, i thought i should move back home with the parents for a bit, so i sold my contract and that's what i did. but last week, my cousin melindie and i decided we should probably rent the taj mahal which, contrary to popular belief, is not located in india, but on 1300 east 522 south, salt lake city, utah.
i wish that i had pictures to back my claims of grandeur. but since i don't i will list the home's greatest features in a tidy list. (since starting law school, i have started to LOVE lists and outlines.)
1) a pool
2) a slide into said pool
3) a waterfall next to said slide into said pool
4) a wrap around deck complete with posh lawn furniture and fire bowl
a) as if my cravings for summer weren't bad enough, now summer taunts me from my own back yard as salt lake's weather grows evermore dismal
5) a floating staircase
6) oversized leather couches
7) a HUGE laundry room with built in study counter
8) a shower that feels lonely with 3 people in it
9) a window seat/niche in my bedroom
10) no tv
ok, 10 might not be an attribute, but i am telling myself that it is because it will make it so much easier to do cool law school homework.
i have never been more excited to move than i am about this one. the house is a beaut. but more than that, melinda and i have been talking about living together since we were just wee ones. dreams are coming true. good, good dreams are coming true.
and here's a good song to top it all off:
and here is a rap that i have almost completely learned:
megan and i went to our first jazz game of the season a few weeks ago. it's exciting for so many reasons, not the least of which is finding 2012's jazz crushes. mine remains the same: paul e. millsap. megan, however, traded in cj for a rookie: alec m. burks. both have proved their worth in salt, to the team and to us.
while both of our boys have been adding beautifully to the game, megs and i came up with some game plans of our own so that when we meet them (i for the first time, and meg for the second...lucky dog) they will fall in love with us forever. this is what we have so far:
katie's game plan to win and keep paul millsap
when i meet paul millsap he will obviously ask me who my favorite jazz player is. i will say, "john stockton," with a certain gleam in my eye that will tell him that the only way for him to convince me otherwise is with a kiss. so, he'll obviously give me a kiss. and then he will ask me again, "who is your favorite jazz player?" and i will say, with gleaming eye, "karl malone." another kiss will ensue and so on and so forth until i've gone through all of the russels, boozers, harprings, baileys, even ostertags, that i can muster until we finally land on, "paul millsap." this is what it will look like at that moment, complete with smiling and supportive d-will in the back:
and then we'll be together forever.
megan's plan to win and keep alec burks
in november when the nba season was looking grim at best, megs went a charity game that the jazz had. and she met everyone who matters afterward, including little baby boy burks. she loved him immediately and welcomed him to utah by having him sign her brand new i-pod. humble alec was bemused at the request, but acquiesced nonetheless. so, when they meet again, megan will say, "hey alec. i just want to welcome you to utah." alec will say, "didn't you already welcome me to utah by having me sign your ipod?" and she'll say, "i did. but now i'm gonna give you a proper welcome." and she'll kiss him. and then he'll do this:
basketball-court-love-dance-party! they'll be inseparable from then on.
i can't wait to carry this out. basketball season never looked so fine.
utah is being especially tricksy with her weather this year. today is a balmy 46 degrees fahrenheit (not celsius or our faces would melt off). that's march/april weather. not december. as a result, my appetites are askew. this is what i have been craving:
1) doing this here,
2) getting really this here,
3) mucho de esto de aqui,
4) smelling this,
5) wearing these,
6) watching a little bit o' this,
7) and listening to some of this.
but, alas, it is january. and the snow is sure to come and last through half of june to make up for wasted time. somehow i need to get myself to crave things like this:
