"Too many good docs are getting out of the business. Too many OB/GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across the country."
"Free societies are hopeful societies. And free societies will be allies against these hateful few who have no conscience, who kill at the whim of a hat."
"If they pre-decease or die early, there's an asset base to be able to pass on to a loved one."
-GW Bush
"I would not say that the future is necessarily less predictable than the past. I think the past was not predictable when it started."
"Things will not be necessarily continuous. The fact that they are something other htan perfectly continuous ought not to be characterized as a pause. There will be some things that people will see. There will be some things that people won't see. And life goes on."
-Rumsfeld
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
It's about time.
Well, at least I gave my blog a new name. It's a bit of a legal theme, considering my LSAT preparations and other such prelaw nightmares. Thankfully I got rid of the practice book that was riddled with mistakes. At least I was able to spot the mistakes. I guess.
Since writing last, I have been to England. Whilst there, I labored in libraries, and said "hello" and "yes, it's me again" to the assembled family members. I wandered the streets of Covent Garden, pretending I was an independent spirit, and peered into the deep depths of the Egyptian cholera epidemic of 1883, surfacing with nothing especially interesting. I witnessed an arrested on the rocky shores of Brighton Beach, and the cringe-worthy attempts of my gossipy (but nice) Aunt sidling up to the police officers and just standing there, hoping to hear something exciting. For three minutes, I sat across from Minnie Driver at the Bar Italia, who was not-eating with her flamboyant, slightly ridiculous ex-model mother. I heard my Nonna comment inappropriately about my cousin's ass, visited a pair of bereaved parents, and even swung by Birmingham. I went to Rosh Hashana services at the Golders Green Synagogue and observed the ladies in their fancy hats. The notice on the back of the synagogue newsletter said, "You may carry this newsletter home on Shabbat if you live within the eruv." Jews can't do work on Shabbat - that includes carrying outside the home, even a newsletter - and an "eruv" is an officially-designated extention of "home." used in neighborhoods with a high density of Jews, and marked by little flags. Golders Green is one such neighborhood.
Since getting home, I have missed three Friday-night events I wanted to attend because of lack of transportation home, and I know I need to move to Seattle, but I feel this horrible sense of inertia. I get up and go to class, yes, but I can't make decisions anymore, or get things done. I miss deadlines, even fail to reply to emails, and feel completely passive. Signs of depression, I know, but I don't feel depressed. I probably need help, but I can't find the energy to change anything or to confront what I haven't done. I'm in a bit of a pickle. Because I'm not doing what I should be doing, not only can I not concentrate, I have a pervasive feeling of guilt, tickling at my brain, even painfully squeezing at my consciousness when I remember a particularly notable failure to act. Acting class is still fun, but it's also not demanding. Well, maybe it's demanding in the sense of "reconnect with your body and control your actions," but not demanding in the way I've become accustomed to. I need some way to be able to concentrate again, to rewire my brain somehow.
Since writing last, I have been to England. Whilst there, I labored in libraries, and said "hello" and "yes, it's me again" to the assembled family members. I wandered the streets of Covent Garden, pretending I was an independent spirit, and peered into the deep depths of the Egyptian cholera epidemic of 1883, surfacing with nothing especially interesting. I witnessed an arrested on the rocky shores of Brighton Beach, and the cringe-worthy attempts of my gossipy (but nice) Aunt sidling up to the police officers and just standing there, hoping to hear something exciting. For three minutes, I sat across from Minnie Driver at the Bar Italia, who was not-eating with her flamboyant, slightly ridiculous ex-model mother. I heard my Nonna comment inappropriately about my cousin's ass, visited a pair of bereaved parents, and even swung by Birmingham. I went to Rosh Hashana services at the Golders Green Synagogue and observed the ladies in their fancy hats. The notice on the back of the synagogue newsletter said, "You may carry this newsletter home on Shabbat if you live within the eruv." Jews can't do work on Shabbat - that includes carrying outside the home, even a newsletter - and an "eruv" is an officially-designated extention of "home." used in neighborhoods with a high density of Jews, and marked by little flags. Golders Green is one such neighborhood.
Since getting home, I have missed three Friday-night events I wanted to attend because of lack of transportation home, and I know I need to move to Seattle, but I feel this horrible sense of inertia. I get up and go to class, yes, but I can't make decisions anymore, or get things done. I miss deadlines, even fail to reply to emails, and feel completely passive. Signs of depression, I know, but I don't feel depressed. I probably need help, but I can't find the energy to change anything or to confront what I haven't done. I'm in a bit of a pickle. Because I'm not doing what I should be doing, not only can I not concentrate, I have a pervasive feeling of guilt, tickling at my brain, even painfully squeezing at my consciousness when I remember a particularly notable failure to act. Acting class is still fun, but it's also not demanding. Well, maybe it's demanding in the sense of "reconnect with your body and control your actions," but not demanding in the way I've become accustomed to. I need some way to be able to concentrate again, to rewire my brain somehow.
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