I must stay here. I must.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Paul Newman
I'm crying about Paul Newman's death at the age of 83. The death of an actor who lived a long and apparently happy life shouldn't strike me as a tragedy. But he was one of the gods of my personal pantheon.
Just to start out with, he was just about the most gorgeous, physically perfect men I have ever seen, and he stayed doable well into his 60s, at least. In a way, he was more doable in middle age, as age smudged his perfection in a way that made him seem more approachable.
There was the intelligence and good humor that shone through his acting. His charisma. His humbleness, the way he took on downtrodden characters and didn't depend on his looks. His famous loyalty to his wife. His family, the Newman's Own venture, his politics, the racecar driving, the way he seemed to be living well and fully for as long as possible. He seemed a man born with potential who did not squander it. I'm sorry to see his light flicker out.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Black dog, eating worms
It must be going around, because the outside news is almost all bad. Financial collapse and all its ramifications. The American fall from grace and prominence in this last administration. The ban on off-shore drilling lifted. The general dumbness of the electorate. Etc. Etc.
It was a bad time to go off the Wellbutrin. I am still unemployed and the contract work that was supposed to be my safety net is proving to be not so easy to get as was advertised. I just discovered my gas and water were cut off today. I have a pretty interesting internship at a nonprofit, but I'm getting paid about minimum wage. The Commonwealth of Virginia is facing its own budget crisis and I doubt it will be hiring me anytime soon. About three weeks till bar results come in. I don't know how I'm paying the October rent, and as of the end of this week I will be behind on several bills, thereby jeopardizing my credit and my ability to buy a house or a car even if I ever do get a job. If, a month from now, I find I didn't pass the bar and I still don't have work, I'll have to tuck tail and run back to my mom and dad. And I don't even want to think about what that will be like.
I will turn forty in less than two months. Also: nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms.
It was a bad time to go off the Wellbutrin. I am still unemployed and the contract work that was supposed to be my safety net is proving to be not so easy to get as was advertised. I just discovered my gas and water were cut off today. I have a pretty interesting internship at a nonprofit, but I'm getting paid about minimum wage. The Commonwealth of Virginia is facing its own budget crisis and I doubt it will be hiring me anytime soon. About three weeks till bar results come in. I don't know how I'm paying the October rent, and as of the end of this week I will be behind on several bills, thereby jeopardizing my credit and my ability to buy a house or a car even if I ever do get a job. If, a month from now, I find I didn't pass the bar and I still don't have work, I'll have to tuck tail and run back to my mom and dad. And I don't even want to think about what that will be like.
I will turn forty in less than two months. Also: nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Cape Charles, Virginia
The last summery day of the year, on the Chesapeake Bay with a certain someone...
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Planning school
It's kind of pathetic, but I'm actually thinking about going back to school -- in the planning program at VCU. The point would be to be better qualified and to not lose focus on the work I really want to do, and to make some kind of tangible connection to Richmond. Anyway, my "statement of purpose":
I’ve been interested in what makes a good place to live since I was old enough to think about anything at all. I grew up on the outskirts of a steel town in western Pennsylvania, and I was always bothered by how hard it was to reconcile the natural beauty of the area with its industrial ugliness. In the years before the Clean Air Act started to show some effect, I can remember having to wash the soot off the outside of our house. I remember piles of slag on the side of the road. I am a coal-miner’s granddaughter, and my grade-school classmates were mostly the children of steelworkers, so I understood that industry, however ugly, was necessary to our well-being. This was especially apparent as the 1970s wore on and the steel industry went deeper into decline.
When I was 13, my family moved to the suburbs of St. Louis. Before the move, I looked forward to going somewhere clean and new. It didn’t take long for me to realize, though, that the very worst of Midwestern sprawl was a worse place to live than a small rust-belt town in decline.
My aversion to both of those types of places eventually led me to New Orleans, where I lived for almost a decade and used to think I would live for the rest of my life. New Orleans was a fascinating puzzle. On the one hand it was vibrant and unique, a place where everyone seemed devoted to living well, a place with its own culture centered on street life, and seemingly invulnerable to American mass consumer culture—where the Rue de la Course coffee house was crowded past midnight every night, and where all three Starbucks struggled for customers. On the other hand, as the world saw in the great post-Katrina airing of the city’s dirty laundry, New Orleans was a hopelessly dysfunctional disaster even before the disaster. It was (and is) crippled by corruption, ineptitude, racial hostility, crime, hopelessly ineffective public education, and a shortage of economic opportunity for everyone from high school dropouts to college-educated would-be young professionals. On top of that, it’s located right in the middle of an ongoing environmental disaster and depends for its existence on a complicated but perhaps not well-thought-out system of environmental engineering.
My friends and I spent a lot of time talking about how one might improve New Orleans and fix its most pressing problems without destroying its essence, and debating whether such a thing was even possible. After Katrina, these questions became more urgent. Since the hurricane, it’s been disheartening to see the city squander its chance at a new start. I hope I am mistaken in my pessimism, but to me it seems the city’s problems are rapidly compounding while its better qualities erode.
I began my first semester at Tulane Law School one week before Katrina. After the storm, I came back to New Orleans and Tulane. During law school, I focused on environmental law. I found that I was particularly interested in land use, where environmental issues intersected community and economic concerns. I became more focused on questions of what makes a city or town a good place to live.
If I were a better person, perhaps I would have stayed in New Orleans to fight to make it a better place. However, I’m sorry to say I have lost faith in New Orleans’ future. Instead, I spent a great deal of time thinking about the kind of city I wanted to live in. I looked around a bit, and last year I was delighted to discover Richmond. I moved here after graduation, took the Virginia bar exam this summer, and have a temporary job at the Chesapeake Bay Foundation.
I am applying to VCU’s MURP program for two reasons. The first is that the kind of work I want to do requires a strong background in planning, but my planning education has been a bit random and hit-or-miss. I think I would have a better chance of finding the work I want if I had formal education in planning. The second reason is that I recognize that I have no obvious connection or reason to be in Richmond, which in some ways is an insular small southern city, similar to New Orleans. I think some employers might be scratching their heads as they contemplate my application. An education at VCU would provide me with a more tangible connection to this city. I envision myself working in city government, probably as a city attorney, although there are other settings where I could find the kind of work I am interested in—a federal agency such as HUD, in state government, with a nonprofit or in specialized private practice.
I’ve been interested in what makes a good place to live since I was old enough to think about anything at all. I grew up on the outskirts of a steel town in western Pennsylvania, and I was always bothered by how hard it was to reconcile the natural beauty of the area with its industrial ugliness. In the years before the Clean Air Act started to show some effect, I can remember having to wash the soot off the outside of our house. I remember piles of slag on the side of the road. I am a coal-miner’s granddaughter, and my grade-school classmates were mostly the children of steelworkers, so I understood that industry, however ugly, was necessary to our well-being. This was especially apparent as the 1970s wore on and the steel industry went deeper into decline.
When I was 13, my family moved to the suburbs of St. Louis. Before the move, I looked forward to going somewhere clean and new. It didn’t take long for me to realize, though, that the very worst of Midwestern sprawl was a worse place to live than a small rust-belt town in decline.
My aversion to both of those types of places eventually led me to New Orleans, where I lived for almost a decade and used to think I would live for the rest of my life. New Orleans was a fascinating puzzle. On the one hand it was vibrant and unique, a place where everyone seemed devoted to living well, a place with its own culture centered on street life, and seemingly invulnerable to American mass consumer culture—where the Rue de la Course coffee house was crowded past midnight every night, and where all three Starbucks struggled for customers. On the other hand, as the world saw in the great post-Katrina airing of the city’s dirty laundry, New Orleans was a hopelessly dysfunctional disaster even before the disaster. It was (and is) crippled by corruption, ineptitude, racial hostility, crime, hopelessly ineffective public education, and a shortage of economic opportunity for everyone from high school dropouts to college-educated would-be young professionals. On top of that, it’s located right in the middle of an ongoing environmental disaster and depends for its existence on a complicated but perhaps not well-thought-out system of environmental engineering.
My friends and I spent a lot of time talking about how one might improve New Orleans and fix its most pressing problems without destroying its essence, and debating whether such a thing was even possible. After Katrina, these questions became more urgent. Since the hurricane, it’s been disheartening to see the city squander its chance at a new start. I hope I am mistaken in my pessimism, but to me it seems the city’s problems are rapidly compounding while its better qualities erode.
I began my first semester at Tulane Law School one week before Katrina. After the storm, I came back to New Orleans and Tulane. During law school, I focused on environmental law. I found that I was particularly interested in land use, where environmental issues intersected community and economic concerns. I became more focused on questions of what makes a city or town a good place to live.
If I were a better person, perhaps I would have stayed in New Orleans to fight to make it a better place. However, I’m sorry to say I have lost faith in New Orleans’ future. Instead, I spent a great deal of time thinking about the kind of city I wanted to live in. I looked around a bit, and last year I was delighted to discover Richmond. I moved here after graduation, took the Virginia bar exam this summer, and have a temporary job at the Chesapeake Bay Foundation.
I am applying to VCU’s MURP program for two reasons. The first is that the kind of work I want to do requires a strong background in planning, but my planning education has been a bit random and hit-or-miss. I think I would have a better chance of finding the work I want if I had formal education in planning. The second reason is that I recognize that I have no obvious connection or reason to be in Richmond, which in some ways is an insular small southern city, similar to New Orleans. I think some employers might be scratching their heads as they contemplate my application. An education at VCU would provide me with a more tangible connection to this city. I envision myself working in city government, probably as a city attorney, although there are other settings where I could find the kind of work I am interested in—a federal agency such as HUD, in state government, with a nonprofit or in specialized private practice.
The Hot 8 Brass Band
On the street, on a wet, humid night with a tropical storm moving in..... in Richmond, Virginia
Monday, September 01, 2008
Inventory
• Food—I eat too much, especially sugary food. I eat for emotional comfort and for distraction, to kill time, to avoid what I should deal with.
• Money—I don’t pay attention to money and am careless and irresponsible with it. I spend what I don’t have and avoid thinking of the reality of my situation. I don’t want to deal with the fact that I don’t make enough to really take care of myself. I spent all of my little bit of savings in law school. I’m in 6 figures of student loan debt and I owe about eight thousand dollars on my credit card. I’m as broke as I’ve every been. I’m almost 40, and I’ve never owned my home or bought a new car—or even a car that was less than 10 years old. I don’t want to do what I have to do to deal with my situation—find work that pays well and be careful and responsible with what I make. Pay attention to what I’m paying in interest, etc.
• I avoid work and lack focus. I don’t want to do anything hard or challenge my self. I’m physically and intellectually lazy. I don’t want to pay attention or concentrate on anything challenging and distract myself with things like surfing the internet and playing computer solitaire. Because of this I haven’t lived up to my potential, and this is related to my financial problems—which are also about now wanting to pay attention.
• I’m socially isolated. I push people away and then feel unloved and sorry for myself. I want to be loved without being burdened by other people. I’m not highly compassionate. I’m judgmental and self-absorbed
• I have a dishonest streak. I steal little things when I can get away with it. I have sometimes used men to get things. I sleep with married men and don’t feel guilty about it. If I was married, I would probably cheat if I could. I don’t want long term monogamy, which is legitimate, but I still have to behave with integrity
On the plus side
• I know myself pretty well, I’m basically true to myself and comfortable with myself
• I’m willing to take risks
• I’m level-headed and can deal with a crisis
• I admit my shortcomings and even though instinctively want to avoid a challenge, I also deliberately put myself in situations where I will have to face hard things (law school)
• Money—I don’t pay attention to money and am careless and irresponsible with it. I spend what I don’t have and avoid thinking of the reality of my situation. I don’t want to deal with the fact that I don’t make enough to really take care of myself. I spent all of my little bit of savings in law school. I’m in 6 figures of student loan debt and I owe about eight thousand dollars on my credit card. I’m as broke as I’ve every been. I’m almost 40, and I’ve never owned my home or bought a new car—or even a car that was less than 10 years old. I don’t want to do what I have to do to deal with my situation—find work that pays well and be careful and responsible with what I make. Pay attention to what I’m paying in interest, etc.
• I avoid work and lack focus. I don’t want to do anything hard or challenge my self. I’m physically and intellectually lazy. I don’t want to pay attention or concentrate on anything challenging and distract myself with things like surfing the internet and playing computer solitaire. Because of this I haven’t lived up to my potential, and this is related to my financial problems—which are also about now wanting to pay attention.
• I’m socially isolated. I push people away and then feel unloved and sorry for myself. I want to be loved without being burdened by other people. I’m not highly compassionate. I’m judgmental and self-absorbed
• I have a dishonest streak. I steal little things when I can get away with it. I have sometimes used men to get things. I sleep with married men and don’t feel guilty about it. If I was married, I would probably cheat if I could. I don’t want long term monogamy, which is legitimate, but I still have to behave with integrity
On the plus side
• I know myself pretty well, I’m basically true to myself and comfortable with myself
• I’m willing to take risks
• I’m level-headed and can deal with a crisis
• I admit my shortcomings and even though instinctively want to avoid a challenge, I also deliberately put myself in situations where I will have to face hard things (law school)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)