STACITA.

I've been a little absent lately.  Ok, three months AWOL.  Fine.  Sorry.  I'm back.

Lots has happened in the life of Stacita, perhaps that explains the absence and transition from detailing the lives of an alter-drunk-ego, to an almost-30-living-in-the-city-with-a-boy Stacita.  In other words, blogging about making out with Woodsmen on the roof of rental cars seems really long ago (although still awesomely funny.)  And not that I would ever admit that I've changed or outgrown Stacita, because I haven't, but I'm just searching for how to best unleash her.

Aren't we always?  Or do we just digress.  Maybe we should regress!

So here's a quick update:

1.) I'm still a HOT DAG.  For now.

2.) I do not like Britney Spears anymore.  Or Lindsay Lohan.  Or Paris Hilton.  

3.) I do like Hillary Rodham Clinton.

4.) I'm kinda hot for Fucker.  Oops.  

5.) I'm always hot for Pearl Jam.

I guess more things change, the more they stay the same. 

And here's a bit of Stacita too:  One week ago, fellow NJ-badass Bruce Springsteen and the BA E Street Band were in town.  I went.  With a Fucker.  And it was awesome -- great show  EXCEPT for these BAGADOUCHES in front of us who talked. The. Whole. Time.  Assholes.  Finally, when they left, I couldn't contain myself.  They broke the Rockstar Code (WESTLAW 1992.)  

Yeah, I opened my mouth and said, Thanks for talking the whole time, assholes while they left the show.  Last DB turned around and all he could stammerout was "Bitch."  [Author's Note: creative.] 

Fucker puffed up and man-jousting-pushing began.  Being the HOT DAG Badass I am, I jumped in and screamed ...

I'M A COP!!

And the DB believed me.  Moron.  And Fucker just turned to look at me with confusion.

But whatever, Stacita stopped the fight.  And the looks of those silly fighting boys (not excluding le Fucker) were awesome.  

Rock on, lawyer girl.  Rock on.

So, I joined the Lawyer's Softball League and officially play with my hard-working colleagues every Tuesday.  Really, it's an excuse to see how lawyers are incredibly awful athletes and to shit-talk endlessly to the other team, telling them to go back and bill, etc. etc., you know, real painful stuff.  I even renamed our team "Jerry's Kids" after this guy. 

But last night, my biting tongue struck me in the ass (HOT!).  I have creative names for most of my friends on the team - "Bring Me Home" "Grand Slama Tama" - you know - positive, reaffirming, even-if-totally-false.

Yeah, my team gave me a name. "Slow-Mo."

I am so not too happy about it.  Is it supposed to be flattery?  Hmph!! 

I would like to call your attention to the final paragraph of Ms. Givhan's piece. She salutes and celebrates Ms. Clinton's confidence and assertiveness, in both her politics and her fashion.  Why is this outrageous? Sure, maybe the Post will never publish an article on how big Edwards' muscles are or how Obama's butt looks in tight jeans - but Ms. Givhan is making a statement about Ms. Clinton's femininity and her feminism.  In a time when we want to support more press about women, this isn't the type of outrageous press we should be condemning.

Again, I think Ms. Givhan speaks to me.  She speaks about Ms. Clinton in complimentary ways and honestly, she is drawing attention to the history of oppression women have faced when they weren't allowed to express themselves through fashion or alternatively, when they were judged for fashion in a negative way.   Her article wasn't about turning Ms. Clinton into a sex symbol or sexualizing her  image, but about noticing and affirming Ms. Clinton's bold statements and framing the debate in a POSITIVE way before the antis can claim it in the most literal, unintelligent, backwards sense. 

Please, let's choose our battles carefully and make a conscious effort to support all women together.

With respect,
Stacita

Take Action! Protest the Washington Post's sexist coverage of Senator Hillary Clinton. The Post's recent article analyzing Clinton's cleavage is a new low! Read Post article Dear Stacey, Mainstream media coverage of women politicians has hit a new, unbelievable low. On Friday, the Washington Post ran a prominent article analyzing Senator Hillary Clinton's cleavage. Let the Post know that this kind of demeaning coverage will not be tolerated. Senator Clinton is a distinguished member of the Senate and quite possibly the next president of the United States. Instead of writing about her strategy to end the war in Iraq or her plans to reform the health care system in this country, the Post devoted a feature story to analyzing her breasts. Let's stop this ridiculous coverage now, in the early stages of the campaign, and demand that Senator Clinton is treated with the same dignity and respect as her male competitors. In her article in the Style section of the Post, staff writer Robin Givhan calls Clinton's décolletage "a provocation" and declares that "showing cleavage is a request to be engaged in a particular way." Never does she consider that Clinton's minimally revealing neckline might have been the result of the 90 degree Washington, D.C. heat. Unfortunately, this is not an isolated incident. The media has rabidly attacked Sen. Clinton for years for her appearance. For example, in his April 26 coverage of the first Democratic presidential debate, MSNBC host Chris Matthews commented repeatedly on Clinton's jewelry and outfit, saying he believed viewers "like the fact that Hillary was demure, lady-like in appearance." In early June, speculation on whether or not Hillary had gotten botox injections rippled through prominent newspapers and television programs. Women politicians' clothes, hairdos, weight, and other physical characteristics have been the obsessive focus of journalists ever since women first began holding public office in this country. We've had it! Let the Washington Post know that sexist coverage of Hillary Clinton or any women politician is unacceptable. For Equality, Katherine Spillar Executive Editor

What a year will do.  Today, a year ago, I was on the verge of puking, crying, and running four miles a day. The bar was in the coming week and I was sort of ready but petrified.  I passed, and it's all good.

I also just saw a PJ show and Fucker for the first time. Weird. 

This weekend, I'm about to go to a wedding with my suitor.  I will look fabulous and have a great time, dance, drink and be merry.  Don't worry - I don't have marriage on the brain yet. But my wedding will be fucking fantastic.

It's amazing where a year will lead you. Or take you.

Good luck Class of 2007.  Work that shit.

I saw my friend Seems for a 90-minute catch-up this weekend. We met over a keg the first semester of 1L talking about how cool Jersey and organizing was.  She rocks my world.

Anyway, she is helping to organize the HELL out of the South Asian community for her friend Vinay who was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia and is in need of a bone marrow transplant.  His odds are not good because a South Asian diagnosed with leukemia has a 1 in 20,000 chance of finding a bone marrow donor match.  So Seems does what she does best and is organizing nationwide drives to help him find a match.

Organizers help people move when they feel a connection. Those moments are few and far in between because it's not often that we care or care enough to think that we can cause change. Change can be so small... merely registering 20,000 to swab their mouth and try to build a greater database of donor matches. Five seconds of their life to change another's.

If you can help, move it. 

So much has happened this past week:

• Cheney insists he's above the law
• We're still at war
  
• Gavin Newsome is unopposed for mayor of SF and my street has major potholes and human feces
• South Lake Tahoe experienced awful fires
• Ann Coulter and Elizabeth Edwards had a throw-down and Coulter ate shit
• And yes, Paris Hilton is free.

And yet, all I could motivate to link to was THIS AWESOMENESS. Because it's really funny and random and makes me want to learn guitar to make my own versions. 

I promise to go deeper. 

My day started this morning like most.  Orders from the court. Conversations with my client. Frustration. Question. Denial.

Tonight, I came home exhausted. Didn't sleep last night. So I finally watched the NetFlix waiting for me. Freedom Writers. And for the first few minutes, i thought this would be a modern day version of Higher Learning. I was so wrong.

Erin Gruwell was who I wanted to be. Want to be. She is social justice. She is progress. She changed people's paths. Permanently.

I wonder all the time -- where am I going? where are we all going? All of us feel some form of shackles... debt, commitment, inexperience, lack of opportunity or choice, no possibility of movement.  We came from the most progressive places and yet in six quick months, maybe more or less, we've realized how easy it is to stagnate, to forget how to make change, to lose our drive to challenge. We become obedient, in the box, forget how to rise and engage.

We have small victories - a publication, a return of property, a bit of pro bono. But we have to figure out how to get more... Make bigger change, bigger waves, stop caring about the politics of ParisLindsayBritney and realize what's going on around.

There's a War going on and there are wars going on.  We need to stop waiting, fucking wake up, and figure out where we could go to make change.