STACITA.

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.

I am a moron. After months of having my completed Bar/Bri Class Action Certification documents SIT ON MY OFFICE FLOOR, I mailed it on Friday. 

Or so I thought.  The brilliant lawyer I am didn't realize that the pre-printed address was addressed to ME.  Even though I folded up what I thought was the self-contained envelope, the address information now had the return address to the Claims Administrator and me as the recipient.  In neglecting to look at where the docs were going, I put a stamp on it and sent it right back to myself.  IDIOT. Now I have to re-send to the CORRECT address.

Hmph.  Here's to making the September deadline for class certification.

Holy. Shit. I just got home from seeing Knocked Up and it is the funniest movie ever. Go see it. Right now.  Go see it with your best friend, your boyfriend, your girlfriend, your one-night-stand, fuck - even your parents. Or not.

Just go see it. And be prepared - my face hurts STILL from laughing so hard. 

Funny email from my suitor -- what kind of man OFFERS to take dance lessons? 

I tried a new razor that I bought for the trip and it seems to do a better job than the ones I had been using. My dad tried one and he agrees too.

Maybe now we can dance cheek to cheek for at least a day before I start irritating your sensitive facial epidermis.

You now have so much to look forward to.

I say we dance the tango!

Seriously though, when we live together we should take dance lessons. I think it would be fun. Plus I think it's important to do couples activities besides dining out together.

First dancing, later scuba diving!

 

I'm in such trouble!!