It’s that time of year again: time to figure out what I want to take next semester.
Typically, all the classes I’m intellectually interested in are classes I’d be insane to take in a single semester. Admin, Constutional Criminal Procedure, a couple of seminars, a clinic, maybe Business Associations…And, typically, the times are just not great. The two classes I know I want to take are several hours apart, and there aren’t any classes in the hole I really want to take. And the seminar I want to take is on the same day as Mr. Angst’s one night class next quarter. Which means we’d need a dog walker that day.
Sigh. I keep telling myself it’s more important to decide what topics I am interested in than to fret about times and such. But it’s hard for me to not worry about the scheduling of everything. And it’s hard for me not to worry that I’m going to be overloaded…AGAIN.
I just read in the news that a woman was sexually assaulted getting off the train one stop up from my stop. Some guy followed her off the train to a side street, put a knife to her throat, took her stuff, and assaulted her. Notably, the stop where this occurred is not in a bad or sketchy neighborhood–though it’s urban, it’s also in the middle of a long string of bars and clubs which is well-lit and generally crowded till the after-hours places close at 4 am. (The assault happened at 3 am.)* The clientele of those bars and clubs is what I would kindly call “fratty” but not what I would call “really scary.” But someone got off the train at this particular stop, followed a woman, presumably towards her home in a not-inexpensive neighborhood, and assaulted her at knifepoint.
In other words, just because the people around you are spending a fortune on rent and mortgages doesn’t mean the area is antiseptic. Also, if this whole event isn’t a good reason for cab vouchers, I don’t know what is. Until I have access to cab vouchers (next summer), I think I’ll be throwing all of my loose change in a “cab fare jar.”
Update: The police have arrested a suspect. They tracked him down through his frequent-buyer card, which was attached to a set of keys he dropped at the scene. I’m still not taking the train that late at night, though.
*I NEVER take public transportation alone after about 10:30; I would definitely not do so at 3 am on a weekend. But I can understand feeling complacent, getting comfortable with your area, and deciding to go ahead and take the train. The tragedy is that, for this woman, this time, things didn’t turn out OK.
I’m having an out-of-context day. I keep seeing people and recognizing them, and wondering where I know them from. The problem is, the people I am seeing are my classmates, and I am seeing them at school, and yet am still finding myself wondering where I know that girl from.
I have five pages on my comment.
I figure if I can crank out five pages every day for 10 days, I’ll be done! Wow! I can totally not work on this for two-and-a-half more weeks!
Mr. Angst and I just had the best meal.
I had received a gift certificate to this particular establishment several weeks ago, and didn’t really know what to make of it. I hadn’t heard of it, didn’t know anything about it, and actually didn’t notice the (very generous) amount until an hour or so after I’d received it. After looking it up online and seeing what it Was All About, we decided we’d go for Mr. Angst’s birthday. (As it turns out, it was also a celebration of my knowing where I’m going to work next summer.)
People. I have eaten some good foods. I have MADE some good foods. I have even spent some serious money on some good foods.
But none of that holds a candle to the foods I ate tonight. And not just the food! The service, the ambience, the wine list, all of it–what a completely WHOLE dining experience. Every bite, I enjoyed. Every sip, I enjoyed. Every minute, I enjoyed. I thought I had eaten well; I was wrong. I thought I was a “mini-foodie”; having not eaten at more restaurants like this one, I don’t think I am. I was too impressed/amazed/delighted by all of it to be able to criticize any of it–and isn’t that, after all, what foodies do?
[For those of you interested, we enjoyed an Australian pinot noir with a French prix fixe menu including such classics as salad Lyonnaise, and such non-classics as the BEST bleu cheese I have EVER had--I think from Italy. There were scallops and quail, veal and lobster, and a very nice tarte tatin to finish things off. Not to mention the two amuses bouches, compliments of the chef, and the muscato, gratis, in celebration of Mr. Angst's birthday. Written out like that, it doesn't seem like we could have been there for close to three hours, but we were. And every minute was outstanding. Sigh. Happiness is burbling up inside me.]
Sigh. I am full–but not overfull, a critical distinction–and happy, and actually really buoyant. Ready, I think, to attack a little thing called my comment tomorrow.
My complaints were obviously made before I got a dog and assumed the morning walk responsibilities. I am so glad that next week, 7:00 am won’t be pitch black anymore
Seriously. You try finding poop on a bed of leaves with only the yellow streetlights to guide you.
Well, kids, I am gainfully employed for next summer. Yep, you heard me. I accepted an offer and I am happy about it. Today I am also a little wistful for What Might Have Been–picking between Firm A and Firm B was tough. In the end, though, I made the only decision I could have made–of all the places I went to, my firm was the only one I immediately could see myself at. And that never changed, not once. So I’m pretty excited to know that I’ll be working in a place where I really feel like I fit.
Also? That’s the last thing you’ll read from me about my firm. Because, you know, I’m not stupid.
A 1L snapped at me in the library, standing up, glaring at me, and saying, “Can you keep it down?”
I wanted to respond, “Can you sit down?”
Really, honestly, it is WAY too early to be so stressed, especially when you’re studying in an open area with 30 or so other students.
My dog is licking my pants. Specifically, the leg of my jeans. This reminds me of a friend of mine from college who used to get drunk and tell people to lick her pants. She also had this t-shirt which she purchased in some second-hand store that had Chinese characters on it. Since she did not know what the characters meant, she decided one night that they must mean, “Lick my pants!” After that, instead of screaming at people to lick her pants, she’d just point to the t-shirt.
Lick my pants!
Yep, still makes me laugh.