Resume Writing Sucks.

Can I get an Amen?? I would SO much rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon than deal with resumes and cover letters right now. Fortunately/unfortunately, I just recently finished my first round of law school finals. I say fortunately because, duh, of course it’s great that finals are over—only a legitimately crazy person enjoys sitting through 3-4 hours of grueling exams (per class) after sitting for at least a month in dark caves of reading and outlining, surrounded by piles of books/papers, living by the light of harsh fluorescent lighting, eating God-knows-what from occasional vending machines, delivered fast food, and canned whatever, and worrying that all the studying in the world isn’t going to prepare you enough for the tsunami that is the exam. I may be speaking slightly in hyperbole, but everyone tells me that the first semester is always the worst, and that Spring semester you’re at least no longer walking through a thick cloud of uncertainty. You have a better idea of what to expect from your classes, professors, and classmates (let me tell you, the crazy can come out—and I’m sooo not an exception. Unfortunately. I mean, wait. Of course I am! I’m Superwoman.. Obvi.). Hopefully you do, anyway.

Anyway, the problem with finals ending (besides realizing that you’ve become entirely socially retarded—because, you know, books don’t have verbal conversations with you.. or at least, they shouldn’t) is that it’s almost as if we’ve all been pulled back into very tightly wound elastic knots, and the second we get out of our last final, it’s like one piece snaps, and the whole knot just explodes, causing our brains to fly into every direction. Or maybe that’s just me. Is it possible to develop ADD in your adulthood? Anyway, there’s instantly a pull of competing interests that comes with the sudden post-finals freedom. Do I want to eat a decent meal (i.e. something that couldn’t survive a nuclear attack)? Do I want to sleep for three days? Do I want to go out and drink away the memory of the past couple months? Make a Christmas wreath? Buy/wrap/send Christmas gifts for family members I’m not going to see when I go home? Go see a movie? Shower? Of course, the answer is yes to all of those things, but unless you have Hermione’s Time Turner, it’s impossible to satisfy all of those needs at once.

And then there’s the other part. The part you need to do. Like clean your awfully disgusting apartment. And do laundry. And finally finish your resume and cover letter. Because, technically, you should have had that done before December 1^st so you could start sending it out to employers as soon as NALP lifted that iron curtain between 1Ls and potential employers. Barf. Seriously, I just finished working!!! It sucks knowing that I’m “finished working” but not really finished working. I know, finishing a resume and a cover letter is not really that difficult, and bitching about it only makes it take longer, but I hate hate HATE working on my resume. I’m not entirely sure why.

It could possibly be because I’m a serial sandbagger. I’ve tried shirking that characteristic, but I don’t think it’s something I’m going to be very successful at. I recognize that sounds just like something a sandbagger would say, but ironically, when talking about getting rid of being a sandbagger, that could be one of the few times that I actually mean what I say. Well, I mean, I definitely mean it when I say, “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to run very quickly today,” and then surprise myself when I actually end up running a route in a decent time. I think I just like setting the bar low for myself.

And I think that’s why I hate writing a resume.

I can never quite figure out the line between my actual accomplishments and total puffery. I would hate for some employer to hire me and then come back and say, “wow, we really thought you were going to do much better..” But then, I also don’t want to look entirely unimpressive either. I wish I could just throw in some random characteristics and skills, accompanied by some witty comments, and then call it a day. Is carving a dance floor bubble in a bar (that definitely doesn’t have a designated dance floor) considered a skill? I highly doubt that any serious employer is going to take me seriously if I do that. Wop wop.

So instead of finishing my actual cover letter right now, I’ll just list some of my more impressive skills here and hope that something inspiring jumps out at me:

Solitary bar/car dancing

(specialties: polka, robot, happy feet, occasional Thriller/krumping)

Supreme accent mimicking

(specialties: Lithuanian, Italian, British, Cockney, French)

Reciting Ke$ha lyrics verbatim

List making

Checklist-cross-offing

Airport security rule-follower

Mail checking

Male checking

French braiding (that’s a new one!)

Nail painting

Drawing like a five-year-old

Coloring in Justice O.W. Holmes’ magical mustache*

Rainbowifying, aka making color-coordinated tabs for law school casebooks

Words with Friends player (currently 11-4 record, only going up)

Wouldn’t you want to hire me for a summer legal internship??

*In case you don’t know what the HM (Holmes Mustache) looks like.. 

Hi There.

Remember me? Me neither. Has it really been that long since I last posted? Doesn’t matter. This post is already boring. The point is, my last post was a million years ago, and life events have happened. I’ve driven halfway across the country to fly around and eventually settle in Texas, and am currently in my first year of law school. So that means I now have a slightly better ability to qualify everything I say, I know a couple Latin words, and am sprinkling just about every sentence with an indiscriminate amount of “y’all.” I don’t yet own cowboy boots, but I pretty much never turn down the opportunity to eat a brisket taco. Oh, and I’m broke. Still. I mean, I have some money, but it’s all borrowed from future fancy-pants lawyer me (that ideally can get a decently-paying job after I graduate). But basically, that’s about it. Broke. (What else is new?)

Anyway, I put the blog on the backburner while I once again radically changed my life in about a billion ways. As per usual, I put a gazillion things on my plate, got crazy busy, and “took a break” from blogging. Hopefully just temporarily. 

Last time I posted, there was a daily tennis match going on in my brain as I was trying to decide between spending the next three plus years in California or Texas. For undergrad, that wouldn’t have made a difference, but for professional school it can really determine where you get your first job, and then what network you end up relying on, where you end up settling down, yadda yadda.. Anyway, there were way more implications to this decision than to any other decision I had made ever before inmyentirelife, and being someone who has trouble choosing what to eat for lunch (have I ever told the story about the time when I couldn’t decide what to eat, and ended up eating nothing but an apple? For some reason my brother finds this story hilarious), something so huge as the REST OF MY LIFE was overwhelming—to say the least.

One minute, my brain would look like this:

The next minute, it was this:

But eventually, my brain just looked like this:

It was exhausting.

But finally, and amazingly, and by a twist of fate, I ended up in Texas, dropping “y’alls” everywhere, running with Texas-flag running shorts, jumping at every opportunity to get barbecue, and listening to country music. Am I really from California?? Now you might be like, “big whoop, Miss Law Student, you just spent last year living in South Carolina.” But there’s something about Texas that just feels like I am where I’m supposed to be. SoCar didn’t give me that so much.

Maybe it has to do with being in law school. I’ll regale y’all with stories of the, ahem, glitzy world of law school at some point (See?? Y’all!! I did it again!! Hah. Brilliant.), but for now suffice it say that I’ve spent a lot of time in class, in my books, in the library, on Facebook, and at Bar Review. No, not that Bar Review—actually the fun Bar Review (for the first half of the semester, anyway).  That pretty much sums it up! Oh, and cooking and baking every once in a while. And decorating my apartment to my liking. And having a roommate. And eating. And running. Yay. And trying to be funny. Most of the time. But succeeding very little. Which on its own is actually pretty funny. When it happens. Trust me on this.

And speaking of trying to be funny, in looking back, I think I was trying a little too hard. Maybe. Not sure how I feel about those posts. I’m going to try to post more often than I have recently (as in more than zero—setting the bar high here), although I’m not going to guarantee that I’m going to post every week. If it turns out that way, that’s fantastic! But I want to try more to have better quality posts.. Although now that I said that I feel like I just put more pressure on myself, and no one is going to find what I have to say remotely entertaining and/or funny, and I’m just going to look like an ass. Blerp. Ahh well!! At least it doesn’t.. harm?.. anyone?.. I think? Maybe I’ll just distract you with another drawing Nephew begged me to make forever ago.

Rawr.

Did it work? 

Things That Make Me Happy, Volume I: Y'All

I figured I had better post something of this nature because it occurred to me that I probably look like a very sad/angry biznatch right now who's jamming to the likes of Alanis Morrisette and Avril Lavigne. While I'm still dealing with the circumstances which led to my emo post of a couple weeks ago, I'm actually doing somewhat better. And thanks to everyone who has checked up on me since.

Eesh, that was sort of a mushy start.. maybe we try and pick up the tempo here? Fantastic!

Now, while the people who actually choose to read the word vomit I like to call a blog (especially the crazies who actually find it funny!) are more than special to me, the "y'all" I'm talking about in this case is actually the term itself.

Let me just say that I grew up in California, where there was no "y'all" to speak of. In fact, I would tease people who said "y'all" (as well as anyone with any form of regional accent--and it was totally endearing; I love accents! Promise). However, since I started living in the South, I've noticed the term slipping itself gradually into my daily vocabulary.

I'll admit, the first time I used it, it was totally forced. I was determined to try it out after about a week of living here, and was trying to get directions on a college campus.

For whatever reason, I was irrationally nervous about this, as if it was my first time on a pair of skis or something. I could feel my heart beating in my closing throat as I felt fresh forehead shine that had nothing to do with the smothering heat and humidity. As a result, and as I said, it was totally forced. It probably sounded something like a dying seagull.

The people from whom I was trying to get directions looked at me like an alien (duh, they knew I wasn't from around here if I was asking for directions). But I also felt totally awkward, as if I just rolled over land mines made of missed social cues.

In retrospect, I probably just felt that way because I just forced "y'all" to come out of my throat. I only learned later that you have to ease into it. So, instead of trying to hurl "y'alls" around, I started saying "you all" in lieu of "you guys,” and eventually worked my way down to “y’all.” And once I heard that "you guys" is actually grammatically less correct than "you all," I became officially hooked. (What can I say? I'm a rules chick.) And can you believe it? I now actually have an aversion to the phrase "you guys." Insane! I never would have seen that one coming.

The thing that's so great about "y'all" (other than it being grammatically correct) is its ability to be slipped out very quickly in conversation. Instead of wasting an entire syllable on the word “guys,” “girls,” or “all,” you can speed right through whatever it is you’re saying.

Also, who couldn't love a phrase that comes up in the lyrics of a song made by a fake Australian band, part of which gets stuck on a mysterious moving island packed with polar bears, smoke monsters, and buttons that save the world? Seriously, every time I hear “you all” I have the urge to finish the phrase with “everybody!” And then I have Charlie’s high falsetto stuck in my head for HOURS. It’s great!



I’m pretty sure I’m going to continue to say “y’all,” even after I leave South Carolina.

Things that Make Me Angry, Volume I: Purses

We’re supposed to think that they’re helpful, but have you ever noticed that the bigger the purse, the more crap you tend to carry? It’s as if they’re innate black holes that pull all manner of things easily into a vortex of junk. Typically, this is how it’ll happen:

But then it doesn’t take too long before you find more unnecessary things filling up the space, either to carry them for yourself or for someone else (usually a man). It’ll start with the essentials: keys, wallet, cell phone.

But then you start thinking of difference scenarios, and you want to be prepared in any situation:

It might be sunny: sunglasses!

Going to work? Better bring that key card that lets you into the building.

Have a smart phone? All those apps probably run down your battery, sooo you’d better bring you charger, because losing your connection to the cyberworld would be all-out DEVASTATING.

You also might want to listen to music at some point. Earbuds!

Afraid you might get hungry? Nutrition bar!

What if your lips start getting chapped? Chapstick!

What if you can’t find your first chapstick? Chapstick #2!

What if you randomly decide to go shopping? Bring the gift cards that you’ve been saving for forever in your “second wallet” (which of course is bigger than your main go-to wallet).

Seriously. A second wallet.

I literally have all of these things in my purse right now—as well as littered receipts, a digital camera I don’t even use now that I have a smart phone, a book about law school (I try to read when I have spare minutes in my week), a blank book in which I write my blog thoughts when I’m away from my laptop, hand sanitizer (for obvious reasons), about FIVE sticky notepads (seriously?? Why do I need so many?? That’s ridiculous!!), and an empty bag that used to hold Starbucks coffee grinds—because I’m so cheap that I’ll let my purse smell like coffee (which actually isn’t so bad) for months (well, ok, that’s bad) just so I an be ready to use it for a free tall drink when I make the opportunity to do so.

I even had all of this (and more, if you can believe it) in my purse when I flew to California for vacation. I even went to Starbucks—and the only reason why it didn’t get used was this: I was so frustrated with my gigantor purse that I even brought a SECOND purse to take what I absolutely needed from my big purse to use in a smaller, more manageable one.

I think that officially makes a bag lady. Gross.

I’m going to stop just short of suggesting that purses are really part of a larger conspiracy and that they are, in fact, covert torture tools designed by men to slow women down (ladies, don’t tell me you’ve never had a man suggest you hold a sandwich for him in your bag! Or is that just my experience?). I mean, really. It’s “socially unacceptable” for men to have purses, and therefore out of sheer “practicality” they carry less than we do...??

And God forbid you should actually try to find something in the cramped-yet-somehow-seemingly-ever-expanding-abyss that is your purse. It’s bad when you get to the checkout of a grocery store and have to take out all manner of random objects just to find your wallet, which is, after all, bright bleeping pink.

I think my grandmother was onto something when she declined carrying one around in her later years, calling it a “balastas,” or ballast in Lithuanian (you know, those bags of sand that keep hot air balloons on the ground? Similar concept here). And every time I start noticing myself becoming a packed mule, walking around like Quasimodo, I start wondering how I got here. And so I try to de-junk my purse and opt for a small one—again.

Can you see the vicious cycle here?

I really should give up purses for Lent one year. Or maybe just try to be less prepared for random events that could hypothetically happen… or not happen. Also probably say “no” when cashiers ask me if I want a receipt. Also probably just use that free Starbucks tall coffee already. Maybe even give in to the fact that unless I plan a time to go shopping, it’s prooobably not going to happen.

Warning: Emo Post Ahead

I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in about two weeks now. I took a week-long vacation in Calfornia to visit with family and look at law schools, and had an amazing time. I even managed to take some time to make a bunch of drawings for what was going to be a pretty funny story (at least I thought, anyway). Unfortunately, sometimes Life likes to throw a huge, ugly wrench in your plans, and you find yourself caught up in the more dramatic and saddening aspects of life.. So I never quite got around to finishing that post.

I won't go into details, but I basically have had the worst week of my life. I know that sounds dramatic. And I feel somewhat guilty saying that, considering how much heartache is going in on in other parts of the world right now, like Libya and Japan. But it seems like as soon as the Ball of Disaster and Drama got rolling, each day I lost something new. And it sucks. And I've had a hard time sleeping as a result. And I definitely don't feel like being funny. I'm sorry. Hopefully I'll get back to it soon.

Seeing that this is a drawing blog, I tried to express myself in pictures. So here's a metaphor for how my week was:

Whenever I'm going through a difficult time, I try to look around me for meaning, as well as something to learn. As always, going to Sunday Mass helps. The perfection of how the homily fits in my life pretty consistently reaffirms my faith. I know not all of you are Catholic, and I'm not trying to evangelize. I'm just saying what works for me.

I'm also probably going to be listening to Jack's Mannequin and John Mayer on repeat, as I have this past week. Especially John Mayer's Heart of Life:

I hate to see you cry
Lying there in that position
There's things you need to hear
So turn off your tears
And listen

[Chorus]
Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No, it won't all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good.

You know it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing.
But then the circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining.

[Chorus]

I know it's good.

That and I plan to get a daily dose of Jonathan Adler. He's so fabulous, and makes me so happy. And his interior designs are amazing. And then he goes and writes things like this about Love and Hate on his blog: http://www.jonathanadler.com/blog/?p=296 

True, so true, Mr. Adler. He also makes me want to redecorate my entire living space with bright yellow--something I never would have considered six months ago, before Sister introduced me to his fabulosity. If I had an expendable income (not to mention a place of my own), I would totally be doing that in a heartbeat.

Ok, enough emo-ness. I'm going to give myself a few more days to wallow, and after that I'm going to try to reintroduce some Happy back into my life. Hopefully Funny will follow.

Like a Champ

Ok, I really don't have much to show for myself this week. Given the fact that I usually only update this blog once a week, I feel like a total failure because I got all the way to today, and had absolutely nothing to post. And that's not to say that I didn't have something planned out, because I definitely did. I just was so swamped this week that I didn't have the time/motivation to actually write something out semi-worth reading. Normally, I'm really busy as it is (hence, why I'm only writing once a week on a normal basis; otherwise, I would tooootally be writing/drawing more). But this week, my coworker was out of the country for the whole five days, and as a result, I had to cover her position as well as mine.

Normally, I'm just a filing clerk. But this week I had to do soooo much more because I had to cover all of the incoming and outgoing mail for our department, AND file all of the paperwork as well. As it is, I'm usually pretty busy with filing, file updating, and assignments I'm given from people higher up on the work food chain. But this last week felt like I was parasailing in a tornado--rather, like I was WINNING parasailing in a tornado (I was determined to come out on top). Actually, this is really what my daily highlights would look like:



Rinse, and repeat. Five times. It was insane.

By the end of the week, I was able to accomplish all of my work goals, and *hopefully* didn't make any egregious errors with the mail (we'll find out within the next couple weeks, I suppose). I'm not going to lie, I was pretty proud of myself, but I was also exhausted. And so this is about all I could do for this week's installment, because by Friday, when it occurred to me that I had nothing finished for P.C., this is how I felt:

I hope y'all still love me!..?

Beating the Sun

This week, I’ve become one of those morning runners. You know, those people you see getting back from what you imagine was a long run, as you look out your front window in some mix of envy, admiration, and judgment for their apparent insanity, seeing as you’re just starting to roast your coffee pot? Yeah, I decided to become one of those crazies—at least for now, until newborn Niece decides to change her sleeping schedule, which currently keeps Sister and Brother-in-Law up at all hours of the early morning. Otherwise, my pre-dawn footsteps would be easily heard by sleeping ears through the paper this house calls walls. But until then, I’m a morning runner.

The hardest part about running at an ungodly hour (other than actually rolling out of bed) is the very beginning of the run, when I first walk out the door. Not only is it eyeball-piercingly cold, but it’s also dark as my morning coffee for the first ten or fifteen minutes. And despite my better judgment, this lack of light invariably calls to mind three things that could possibly attack me:

1. Werewolves
2. Vampires
3. R-people (aka rapists)

Obviously, those three are all terrifying prospects (especially R-people), and it always scares the hell out of me for a minute. But that’s when I use my magic weapon. No, not pepper spray. Although I should definitely start bringing that. I mean Pandora! On my phone! Through my earbuds!

Then again, I recognize that in listening to music I’m making myself less aware of what’s going on around me, and therefore am probably more vulnerable to a real attack of some sort, but that’s not what matters.

“So then what really does matter?”

Glad you asked, hypothetical reader! The answer is obviously vampires. And werewolves. And The Thing. Do you remember that live-action show from like the 1990s? It was awesome! At least, it was to my vaguely remembered very-very-very young child-brain, anyway. I don’t remember much, other than thinking that a gigantor swamp monster was way cool, especially when you got to play with Older Brothers’ Thing toy out in the muddy backyard while they were at school (they may or may not have known).

I also might be making that last part up. Wasn’t there a show about a swamp monster called The Thing? I’m too lazy to look it up online right now. I’d rather draw.

But anyway, in the early morning, The Thing (which may or may not really be completely in my mind) is still a very scary prospect. Would you really want to run into him when you’re still waking up? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Oh and Pandora also works to scare away the R-people. Because contrary to popular opinion, Ke$ha is actually the Patronus Charm form that works specifically on R-people/dementors. Because R-people obviously derive from dementors. Little known fact. *The more you know!*

The most awesome part about running suuuuuuper early in the morning is that there are barely any people out, which means you can get away with all manner of embarrassing behavior. Most notable is visibly jamming to your Pandora playlist while scaring away all the morning monsters that immediately vanish when the sun comes up. During the day, if you’re really feeling the music, at most you can generally put an extra bounce in your step; beyond that would be less socially acceptable. But in the morning, you can all-out dance/air guitar while waiting for the crosswalk to let you go (if there’s even any traffic keeping you from crossing on your own).

I have to say, air-guitaring definitely helps you wake up; and knowing that you’re not as likely to be seen only aids that wake-up process. And I mean, really, what kind of people are up at this hour, anyway? They’re probably just as crazy as I am!