Justin's Jots

Studying. Estudiando.

2011-04-26T12:51:00.004-04:00

Sitting shirtless at my computer, working feverishly, and dripping sweat. A cup of strong, black coffee at hand. Birds singing raucously outside. Sunlight streaming through the window. Suddenly, I am transported back to Madrid.

Me siento en frente de mi ordenador, sin camisa, trabajando locamente. El sudor corre por la espalda y se gotea de las piernas. Una taza de cafe muy fuerte está lista para el trago ocasional. Afuera, los pájaros cantan ruidosamente. Los rayos de sol entran por la ventana abierta y rebotan por mi habitación. De repente, en mi espíritu, me traslado otra vez a Madrid.

Life in Ruin

2010-12-16T16:15:00.003-05:00

Ruin is the road to transformation.
Were we not occasionally to find our lives in shambles,
We would become far too comfortable in mediocre existence
To desperately take the chances that otherwise seem like lunacy,
But are in fact the means by which we grow,
The very oxygen that our minds breathe,
The very food by which our souls nourish themselves.

Glass

2010-10-19T23:01:00.003-04:00

El amor es difícil porque las emociones humanas son como el vidrio -- son delicadas, pero también se pueden cortar.

My spontaneous response when asked to write a thought about love at the beginning of Note to Self, a student production in UF's theatre department that consisted of monologues of the actors' varied experiences with love and relationships, which note then joined the hundreds of others on the studio wall that had been collected during the piece's run.

Translated:

Love is difficult because human emotions are like glass -- they're delicate, but they can also cut.

Thoughts in Yoga

2010-08-28T13:31:00.004-04:00

For the heart to beat requires no thought.
For the lungs to breathe requires no thought.
To be requires no thought.

Thoughts come into and go out from the mind.
Let them go.
Be.

People come into and go out from the heart.
Let them go.
Be.

Objects come into and go out from one's presence.
Let them go.
Be.

Let go.
Let go and be.

Inspired by my instructor, Jenne, whose words are paraphrased in the first two lines.

Summertime, and the livin’ is ... easy?

2010-06-19T17:42:00.005-04:00

Summer has been an emotional time for me for the past few years and the trend shows no sign of abating.

In the summer of 2007, I sold the historic bungalow that I had come to treasure as my home. I ruminated over whether I was doing the right thing to shed the responsibilities that come with home-ownership ahead of enrolling in law school, but when the time came to sign on the dotted line, I was ready.

I spent the rest of that summer tolerating my job and counting down the days until I could leave it behind and enroll in law school. Inasmuch as my job was something to be tolerated at that point, leaving was bitter-sweet event, to be sure. I had many wonderful memories of some colleagues and unbelievable stories about others, as anyone would after eighteen years in one place. My work had provided me with many opportunities for which I’m grateful. For better or for worse, however, when I left, the organizational culture had been undergoing a shift and I'd gone from being an insider looking out to an outsider looking in. When it came time for me to go, I was ready.

In the summer of 2008, I realized a years-long dream and enrolled in a summer study-abroad course in Spain. For two weeks after arriving in Madrid, I felt nothing but giddiness. After that, the one-two punch of being away from the Boyfriend whom I loved and of living in a foreign country where every day presented a new challenge, puzzle, or frustration hit me. I found some comfort in the romantic attentions of a handsome man whose acquaintance I made while in Madrid, but that brought with it more emotional turmoil. Every day was a cycle of missing the Boyfriend in the US, looking forward to going out with Madrid Man, feeling very much at home in Europe, and longing to be regarded by people in the street as something other than just another American tourist. I reveled in weekend trips to visit friends in France and Italy, which were emotional experiences of their own, and longed to stay in Europe, but when it came time to go home, I was ready.

After I returned to the US, my Boyfriend proposed to me on a weekend leave from his temporary work assignment in Maryland; we deepened our promises to one another and called ourselves married. Our newly-wedded bliss was short-lived, as he returned to Maryland and I temporarily installed myself with my grandparents in the small town where I grew up. By day, I interned for a district attorney and loved learning about criminal law. By night, I struggled with a paper that I was writing for school, missed my Boyfriend-Turned-Husband, fretted over how to disclose Madrid Man to him, and debated the nature of my recent nuptials with my grandmother. In the interstices, I renewed my relationship with my grandparents, who entertained me with their own antics and their doting over my dog.

In the summer of 2009, I went to Beijing for five weeks. I didn't pick up a romantic interest in Beijing, which made some things easier and some things harder, no pun intended. My emotional experience was otherwise similar to that of Madrid -- life in a foreign country can be grinding, regardless of how eager you are for the experience. Even now, however, I get nostalgic for both Madrid and Beijing.

I spent the second half of the summer in Charlotte, living with a close friend whom I've known for years and working for the public defender. Both experiences were fulfilling and edifying. I treasured both the quality time spent with my roommate, as well as his generous hospitality, and the experiences that I had at work, with an equally warm and generous cohort of colleagues. I found a career that I could do after law school, do well, and enjoy.

By the time the summer of 2010 came around, my Boyfriend-Turned-Husband and I had come to an impasse and amicably released one another from our vows. The summer started with a bang – law school graduation and my birthday on the same weekend! I was on an emotional high not only because of the events that were transpiring, but also because the guy that I had then been dating for a few weeks went out of his way to celebrate my accomplishments with me. This was tempered only slightly by the fact that, during many of my graduation festivities, my mother and father were in the same building together that wasn't a courthouse for the first time in perhaps thirty years. I was able to let go of my anxiety and let adults do as they would and, of course, everything turned out fine. I owe a big thank-you to my mom’s boyfriend for being instrumental in making everything go smoothly, to my family for rising to the occasion and being so proud of me, to Dating Man for generally making me feel special, and to my ex-Boyfriend-Turned-Husband for his support and understanding throughout law school.

As the current summer wears on, I top one emotional hill only to see more hills and valleys undulate infinitely toward the horizon. In my bar exam prep course, an "exceeds standard" mark on a practice essay one day gives way to "needs significant review" feedback on practice multiple choice questions; the next day, they invert themselves. My plans with Dating Man were cancelled one recent evening when his father fell ill; it was to be the last time that his father would fall ill. I struggled with whether I take time away from studying to go the funeral in an unfamiliar town hours away. I discussed the matter with a friend, ran through a cost-benefit analysis, analyzed the ramifications of each decision, made a rational decision not to go, and then went anyhow. It was SO worth it! I saw Dating Man in a new light. I think that we established a new connection, and my presence seemed to fulfill an emotional need in both of us.

As I type this, I feel like I'm in some sort of purgatory. I'm staying in Elon and studying for the bar exam for the entire summer, as if I've embarked on some sort of monastic vocation. To some extent, it hearkens back to Madrid and Beijing -- being unsure of what to do with myself in unfamiliar surroundings and having no one at hand to commandeer as an accomplice. This is the common thread runs through this summer and the three before it.

My ex-Boyfriend-Turned-Husband is caring for my dog and I return to Greensboro each weekend to give him a chance to visit family and friends out of town. I'm enjoying living in my own space during the week and don’t mind spending my weekends in Greensboro, but the transition between the two locales is emotionally draining. During the week, I feel independent and engaged in important self-actualization, but the weekends snap me back into an emotional spot that I didn't realize I was in and couldn't appreciate leaving until I'd gone back to it.

The fall lurks before me and my plans for that time are still unsettled. On the one hand, I look forward to finding a new routine in my own space. On the other hand, my summers have become times of profound feeling and thinking, of growth, and of enrichment. Maybe I should just move to Florida so I can experience summer year-'round!

Note to Self

2010-05-31T10:56:00.005-04:00

Almost three years ago, I embarked on an incredible voyage of learning when I entered law school. As I looked forward to the experience that then lay before me, I imagined that I would learn something about myself as well as something about the law and, indeed, I did. Anticipating such an outcome, our professor, Steve Friedland, had each of us in my class write a letter from ourselves in orientation to ourselves at graduation. August 2007 Justin wrote the following to May 2010 Justin:

Dear Justin,

Congratulations! You've made it through what would appear from this end to be three of the most challenging years of your life!

What do the past three years look like from where you are now? From here, they are nebulous, expansive, and overwhelming. I'm unsure if I'm up to the challenge, if I'll be able to give my best all of the way through. What friendships that I'm now making will survive? What new friendships will I make? I've already formed opinions about many of my classmates; how will those change?

When I first walked in the doors here, I had notions of forming an investing club, an LGBT legal issues group (out of which might even grow a law review journal), and even had the notion that I'd introduce a motion to rename the SBA to the Litigating Christians. But right now, just after orientation and boot camp, at the threshold of my actual 1L classes, I wonder how much of that, if any, I'll have time to do. I wonder how much of [it] I'll feel free to do; I already see cliques forming among my classmates and see at work the same social pressures that I felt in high school.

I wonder, too, what will become of my relationship with Chris, given the time commitment that I fear law school will require me to make. We briefly discussed the matter yesterday after church, when I asked him how he felt when he was in seminary and was the one who had such demands on this time. He said that he just did it; that he and [his ex-spouse] had made the decision for him to enter into this and he was going to do the best that he could. He busied himself all afternoon reading, cleaning, baking, folding a load of laundry that I'd brought to his place, and ordering diner in. Later, when I'd been studying on his sofa for eight or nine hours, I felt my GERD flaring up and he went to the grocery store to fetch medicine for me. I do need to dispose of this guilt somehow so that I feel free to do my best without being distracted too much with thoughts of what I'm neglecting.

I hope that I graduate in the top third of my class. Did I? I hope that I'm able to join law review or become involved in at least one student organization in which I can demonstrate my abilities. I hope that I will be able to go to Madrid in summer 2008 and engage in some law-oriented work for the remainder of that summer (in Europe?). I hope that I get a good internship with a desirable firm in NC, preferably Raleigh or Greensboro, Asheville or Wilmington, or even Charlotte, which has charmed me on recent visits. (Remember whitewater rafting with Chris, Jenny, and the Debbies; Harry Potter with Chris, Christopher, Vanessa, and Josh?)

Donna's mom, Jan, is recovering from cancer surgery and Papaw has recently learned that he needs a heart valve replacement. I wonder how these situations will play out and how I might be called on to balance school and family life.

All of this and more will be known by the time that I read this letter again. Hopefully, this letter will help me to reflect on what I've accomplished and give me strength to face the bar review and exam with confidence and determination. After that? Well, who cares!? I'll have passed the bar exam! From that point, I can accomplish anything that I wish!

Best to you, future self!

Love, Justin

I remember thinking, when I wrote this letter, that I had high hopes for my academic achievement, but that I also wanted to set realistic expectations for myself. I didn't get on law review or moot court, due to a variety of SNAFUs that had nothing to do with my academic ability. I did, indeed, graduate in the top third of my class and exceeded the expectations that I memorialized in this writing, actually performing more in line with the expectations that I kept unwritten. I did form OutLaw, a social/educational organization for LGBT and allied law students. Although I am known for my puckish sense of humor, I never did pay homage to Elon's former mascot by proposing that we rename our SBA to the Litigating Christians. (Elon changed its mascot from the Fighting Christians to the Phoenix at about the same time that it transformed itself from a college to a university around 2000.) I did go to Madrid (and Beijing the next year) and accepted legal internships in both summers, including one in Charlotte during my second summer.

I am still friends and friendly with the same folks with whom I began developing those relationships during orientation. The depth and breadth of those and other relationships developed naturally over the three years of school. Those to whom I was friendly were and still are friendly in return; those to whom I was civil were and still are civil in return. I don't feel rejected by any of the folks with whom I graduated.

My relationship with Chris did undergo a radical change during law school. The change didn't have so much to do with law school itself; he was always very understanding of my need to devote time to my studies and I think that I struck a good balance between spending time with my books and with my spouse. Our break-up was about the path that I am travelling, on which law school was a vehicle. Our paths were parallel for a while and we enjoyed that time a great deal. When it became clear that our paths would diverge, we dealt with the inevitable as best as we could and set each other free.

Jan continues to fight and to survive and travelled from Kansas to North Carolina to visit friends and family at Christmas. Papaw has since had two heart surgeries and is doing well in that arena, though other health challenges have emerged.

This process of learning and growing isn't over yet. This summer and even the coming year promise many more challenges as well as opportunities. All I can do is stay positive, expect from the universe the goodness that I know that I deserve, and do something every day to move me closer to my goals.

"He's at the forty, the thirty, the twenty ... score!"

Ni hao!

2009-05-27T08:33:00.003-04:00

Greetings from Beijing, where I'm doing another study-abroad. I'm at the Law School of Renmin University of China, studying Chinese business law through a program sponsored by Indiana U/Purdue U-Indianapolis. I arrived on 20 May and will be abroad until 30 June.

Unfortunately, I can't access my blog from China, except through Elon's VPN, which is a bit of a cumbersome process. Never fear, though! I've been keeping a blog/journal by posting notes on my Facebook profile, so have a look over there. As always, photos are on Flickr, at the following URL.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jrervin/

Huitou jian!

Juxtaposition du jour

2008-09-19T14:03:00.003-04:00

The following is the actual title and subtitle of an item in the Monthly Update that I receive today in e-mail from the American Bar Association Law Student Division.

Commission on Homelessness and Poverty
Welcome Law Students

What a great Friday chuckle! :J

Lay (off) the guy already!

2008-08-26T22:06:00.005-04:00

Since John Edward's extra-marital affair was revealed some weeks ago, he has endured much criticism -- anew from critics and afresh from former allies. I thought the whole discussion tacky and irrelevant and tried to ignore the whole controversy. However, I will remain silent no longer now that Elizabeth Edwards, wife of the former Tarheel Senator, is suffering criticism for what's described has her "complicity" in the cover-up of the affair from the time John confessed it to her in 2006 until it hit the fan this year. (See this article in the 26 August 2008 edition of the Raleigh News and Observer.)

Enough, already! This whole business is not worthy of discussion! Edward's affair has no relevance in the political sphere. The fact that this man was unfaithful to his wife is the business of no one but the people directly involved -- John, Elizabeth, Rielle Hunter, and their immediate families. We, the general public, have no business delving into such matters.

"But he deceived us!" "We believed in him!" "We thought he was such a good man!" So what if he lied! Given all of this reaction, wouldn't you have? It's not like he stole money and lied about it. It's not like he was actively questioned about an affair in front of Congress and actively lied about it! (Don't get me started on the Clinton-Lewinsky debacle.) If one believed in Edwards' political message before news of the affair came to light, why shouldn't one believe in it now? If Edwards was a good man before, he still is. The point is that he's a man -- a human -- like all of us. :J

The Mother-in-Law

2008-07-19T10:38:00.003-04:00

No, not mine... his. With marriage comes in-laws and all of the stereotypical baggage that that relationship implicates. In this case, things have gotten off to a good start, as my Mum left a quite positive comment on the entry in Chris' blog about our marriage. It made me very happy and very proud to read it! :J

Believe It or Not!

2008-07-10T21:32:00.006-04:00

I can’t believe that I spent nearly two months in Spain and wrote only one entry for this blog. It’s true that I was busy enough experiencing living in a foreign country and documenting that experience through photos, not to mention the commitment required for my two Spanish courses in Madrid and the independent study that I’m doing for law school! It took a couple of weeks to adjust emotionally and physically to being abroad. It was quite an adventure living in a cosmopolitan city of six million people in a foreign country where I had to use my foreign language skills on ~~a daily~~ an hourly basis to survive. In the end, I not only survived, but flourished, and came to love my temporary home! I made many wonderful friends of classmates, my señora and her family, and other madrileños. I learned a great deal about myself, too, by finding the assertive part of myself, by pushing the limits of my tolerance for daily annoyances, by pressing myself to persevere in difficult tasks, and by stretching to communicate with people with a completely different perspective and approach than I.

I can’t believe that I finally met Enrico, my Italian pen-friend of seventeen years! After my Spanish courses ended, I flew to Italy and spent a few days in Modena getting to know Enrico, his family, and his hometown. After Italy, I went to France to spend a long weekend with friends who live south of Lyon, near Montélimar; they live in a fairy tale – a medieval village with a castle towering over and surrounded by mountains and vineyards. In both France and Italy I had to pull out and dust off my French in order to talk with my friends, find my way about, and get along in daily life.

I can’t believe that I’m already back in the States and working in my internship in the District Attorney’s office and living with my grandparents. Pepper and I have installed ourselves in Rockingham with Mamaw and Papaw. I awaken early, put on a suit, and head to the courthouse, where I observe in court and do research to help the prosecutors to prepare for upcoming cases. Deputies, jurors, defendants, defense counsel, and even judges have all addressed me as if I were already a lawyer; at least I look the part!

I can’t believe that on 4 July, the day after I returned from Spain, Chris, my boyfriend of two-and-a-half years, proposed to me over lunch in the restaurant where we rekindled the friendship that we initiated fifteen years ago. I was dumbfounded and couldn’t speak for a moment, but I eventually gathered enough wits to accept! After some discussion of what to do next (set a date for a ceremony, elope, plan a reception), we went on to purchase the rings that we’d chosen before I went to Spain, said vows to one another in private, and are now married – husband and husband. Chris wrote about this event in his blog far more eloquently than I did here!

I can’t believe what an amazing man I have in my life. Chris is intelligent (especially so in ways that I’m not), gifted in dealing with children, a great cook, disarmingly handsome, a gentle lover, and has a seemingly unending capacity to love. He is a good friend, was a great boyfriend, and will certainly be a wonderful husband and father.

I can’t believe the reactions of our families. Chris’ family comes from a religious background, but most of them root their faith in love and choose to express that emotion over others. Chris’ sister voiced her delight at the prospect of my being her brother-in-law several weeks ago. Chris sat down with his parents just a couple of days after our exchange of rings and was pleasantly surprised by their reaction and their willingness to engage in dialogue. My own mother expressed unabashed pleasure at the news, exclaiming “You picked a good one!” My dad was surprised at the quick turn of events, but was delighted and wished us much happiness. My grandmother was also caught off-guard by the surprise news and I was caught equally off-guard by her reaction. My mother had apparently told her that someone had gotten married and that she should phone me for details; she did and when I revealed the newlyweds’ identity, I was met with silence. When I saw her in person the next day, a disrespectful comment on her part resulted in a confrontation between us which ended only with ruffled feathers being smoothed, rather than any meeting of the minds, or, for that matter, any congratulations.

Having covered what I can’t believe, you might be wondering what I can believe. I can and do believe that life is a series of challenges to which we must rise and that the greatest injustice that we can commit against ourselves is to think that we aren’t good enough to achieve great things or that we don’t deserve to have great things happen to us. :J

Madrid 1: Journey and Arrival

2008-05-16T18:17:00.005-04:00

After a whirlwind of studying, exams that felt like one punch after another, and seeing to countless details, I boarded a plane at noon EDT on Thursday and headed for Madrid. Despite connections in Detroit and Amsterdam, the trip felt short. Heck, after that 19-hour flight to Manila, almost any non-inter-planetary trip would feel short!

Dutch security tried to throw a monkey-wrench into my travel plans. I was trotting through the terminal of Schiphol airport, following the signs to the gate for the final leg of my trip when -- Bam! -- I ran right into a crowd of people sifting VERY slowly through passport control and customs. I stood in one line for about ten minutes without moving before deciding to head over to the "quick connections" line. Despite its name, it wasn't moving much faster than the other lines. Tempers flared. People shouted at the Passport agents in French and Dutch and with Australian, British, and totally foreign accents that they were missing their connections. I was in danger of missing my own connection! I watched as flights leaving at the same time as mine showed "boarding" and then "gate closing". I tried to not panic. At the x-ray belt, people flung things trough, disregarding admonishments to remove liquids, gels, shoes, belts, laptops, etc. I grabbed my bags and started to run as I fed my belt through the loops on my pants, then stopped short, realizing that I'd left my wallet, passport, and onward ticket at the x-ray! I dropped my bags right there in the middle of the airport and went back for my other things! Granted, it was only about 15 feet, but in the pressing crowd, Jimmy Hoffa could've disappeared.

I did make it to my flight to Madrid. As I approached the gate, I heard my name announced over the public address system. The gate agents and flight crew were very friendly and welcomed me warmly; they expressed genuine concern that I had to rush and told me to relax on the flight and let them take care of me. No problem! KLM treated us all well with good food and extremely friendly staff, so the flight from Amsterdam to Madrid was awesome. There was no passport control or customs to speak of in Madrid; I just walked past a lone Guardia Civil that ignored me. Cash. Change. Phone call ("Hola, Marlí ¡he llegado!"). Taxi. Apartment. Exhale. Relief!

I have eaten and slept a good bit since my arrival this morning. I was hoping to lose some weight in Madrid with all of the extra walking and none of the fast food, but if my señora keeps feeding me like this, those hopes will be dashed. I have already had a pan-fried chicken breast with garlic, green salad, and a huge tortilla. Of course, a Spanish tortilla is what we'd call an omelette -- chopped potatoes and onions mixed with a few eggs and baked on the stovetop in a pan so that it looks a bit like a stout cake of cornbread. Yum!

I have taken some photos of the apartment where I'm staying, as well as the little bit of Madrid that I can see from my windows. I walked around the neighborhood after dinner, but it was too dark to take photos then. BTW, it didn't get completely dark until 10.30 PM! I plan to go out tomorrow to take photos of the neighborhood, scope out the route to school, and see Retiro Park. Retiro Park was once a wilderness preserve and royal retreat, so it is to Madrid as Central Park is to New York or Bosque Chapultepec is to Mexico City.

I have discovered just how much energy it takes to concentrate on what people are saying so that I can understand them. I am blessed with a good accent, so people can understand me easily when I speak Spanish, but that leads my listener to assume that I'm gonna understand him/her when s/he talks back! Not always the case at present. I'm confident, however, that if I maintain throughout my trip the level of interaction that I've had today, I'll have made a big improvement in my skills!

For now, I'm off to dream-land! Er, I mean... el país de los sueños. :J

Four Dollars

2008-03-26T18:48:00.004-04:00

Ugh. I saw this horrid sight for the first time in my life, but probably not the last.

It's kinda funny -- last week, a classmate and I were fussing about fuel prices when I speculated, "I'd be that diesel will be up to four dollars per gallon by Labor Day (beginning of September), maybe even Memorial Day (end of May)." Or... tomorrow! This followed a fifty-cent rise in the price of diesel over a two week period. Ugh. :J

Get Out, already!

2008-03-14T10:21:00.002-04:00

Wow... nothing for nearly two months and now two posts in one day! What's next, parity of the dollar with the euro?

I'm Founding President of OutLaw, an organization of students at Elon University School of Law who are interested in legal issues affecting the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender community. OutLaw is open to all Elon Law students.

On Wendesday of this week, OutLaw hosted its inaugural programming event, the Out Lawyer Forum. Three local attorneys came to the law school and spoke to about two dozen students, faculty, and staff about practicing law as an openly-gay or -lesbian lawyer in Greensboro. Panelists included Ron Johnson (partner in the law firm of Johnson, Peddrick, and McDonald who has practiced in Greensboro since 1974 and is a Board Certified Specialist in estate planning and probate law), Rebecca Perry (who has practiced family law as a solo practitioner in Greensboro since 2002, is a Board Certified Specialist in family law, and is an active member of the State Bars of North Carolina and Texas), and Andrew Spainhour (who worked as a lobbyist's assistant in Washington DC before turning down job offers in New York to become corporate counsel of Replacements Ltd). Law school Dean Leary Davis and his guest, David Campbell, a scholar of the role that diversity plays in leadership, welcomed the panelists and audience as the program began.

All in all, the program was a great success. Read all about it!

http://www.elon.edu/e-web/academics/law/outlaw_forum_3_08.xhtml

My Day in Court

2008-03-14T09:35:00.004-04:00

Well, it had to happen sooner or later. Everyone has their day in court for one reason or another and yesterday was mine. I emptied my pockets and walked through the metal detector and into the court house. I took the elevator up to the fourth floor and checked with the prosecutor's office to find out where I should go. Down two floors and into the packed criminal court room. A second-year classmate interning with the prosecutor's office saw me come in; her mouth flew open and she grabbed the docket sheet to see where my name was on it. I found a seat and took it quietly, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

I had had enough continuances and it was time to face the fact that I had to spend a day observing criminal court for my criminal law class. The prosecutor's office told me where I should go to see the most action. Luckily and to her relief, my classmate didn't find my name on the docket sheet. There were plenty of others, though! It took about twenty minutes just for docket call--reading all of the names from the list of cases to be heard. Probably one-third to one-half of the cases were continued to another day. Probably a fifth were dismissed and another third were deferred pending payment of restitution or completion of an alternative sentencing program. Several people plead guilty, so I saw the process that follows that. A few people were released after time served in the county jail since arrest and agreeing to pay court costs. It looked as if there would be two or three bench trials that afternoon, but I couldn't stick around that long. My accompanying classmate, Jon, and I left at lunch recess. It was, indeed, an interesting experience and one that excites me for what's to come this summer.

So... this summer. It looks like I'll be interning in the prosecutor's office in the county where my grandparents live during the second half of the summer! It's an unpaid position, but I look forward to soaking up some rich experiences in the courtroom and spending some quality time with my grandparents during my six weeks there. I came to law school with the thought of practicing estate planning; I never imagined that I'd go into criminal law and I'm still not committing myself to anything. However, my IT career put me nearly half-way through the thirty years of State service required to retire with full benefits, so the thought of going back into State service after law school, finishing my thirty years, and walking out the door with pension and health insurance at age 55 is very attractive. I wouldn't be limited to working as a prosecutor, either. Several (but not all) of NC's judicial districts have public defenders. All of NC's public universities have a University Counsel, and tons of attorneys work in the NC Department of Justice, as that department handles litigation for all state agencies. It's quite likely that a return to State service is in my future.

My internship is the second half of the summer. During the first half, I'm going to Europe to take UNCG's culture and conversation course in Madrid for a month and then spend a couple of weeks visiting friends in France and Italy. Of course, I'm looking forward to my trip to Europe, but I also can't wait to return to my internship!

For better or worse, Chris will be working in Maryland all summer. That'll be good because he'll be away from home himself, which might keep his mind off of the fact that I'm away, too. He'll also be able to spend time with and become better acquainted with some of our friends in that area and the area itself, which has always held some appeal for me. His being away could be bad because he might get bored living in a hotel room for months. But, we've survived his previous travels for work and it has real benefits, so we'll get through it this summer, too.

So, there's a nutshell update. There's no rest for the weary, as I have a 15-page Motion for Summary Judgment to crank out this weekend. For those not in the law, summary judgment is a decision about the case based on the facts as presented to the court in pre-trial documents; the facts are undisputed and so clear that a trial is not necessary. (It's the job of the jury in a jury trial or of the judge in a bench trial to decide the facts -- basically, who has the more compelling story or who's telling the truth.) The movant (party making the motion) is asking the court to rule as a matter of law; the only question to be resolved is how the law applies to the facts, which is always the job of the judge. Summary judgment is much quicker and much less expensive than a trial, so is often viewed as a preferred method of resolving cases. Woo-hoo!

So, I'm off to summary judgment land! Don't worry; I won't send a postcard. :J

Computer Blue

2008-01-19T12:30:00.000-05:00

Note: I wrote this entry shortly before Christmas, but waited until now (a month later) to post it so that revealing the details of my computer SNAFU during exams wouldn't violate my school's honor code, which requires anonymity in exam grading. :J

Exams actually got off to a quite exciting start. As I rebooted my computer to take my very first law school exam, Windows flaked out on me and I had to hand-write my exam! For some unknown reason, Windows Vista had suddenly decided that my license was no longer valid and locked me out of most functionality, generously allowing me into my Web browser where I could buy a new license for $215. After four hours on the phone with Costco and HP, a crying fit, several nights of fitful sleep, and worrying at least an hour or two off of the end of my life, I was no closer to a solution. With a functional browser, I was able to send my crucial documents to myself in e-mail and download them onto a flash drive via my desktop computer, which allowed me to continue studying at home and in the lab at school. I borrowed a computer from school for my second exam. I finally faced reality and hit the virtual reset button, restoring my hard drive to its factory condition. I took my other exams on my own computer, but spent two full days reinstalling all of my software and readjusting my configurations.

Through all of this trauma, Costco (which offers limited support for computers that it sells and whose staff was great) and HP were very helpful. I got bubkes from Miscrosoft, though. Even HP got from Microsoft the same run-around as I and I never spoke to anyone at Miscrosoft whom I felt could have helped me with my problem, if they understood what it was. To add insult to injury, I would have had to pay $59 to speak to anyone beyond the guy that could only take my credit card information in exchange for a new license key.

All's well now, but I wonder... when it comes time for me to buy a new computer, will I join the ranks of the millions of Mac users and housekeeper that declare, "I don't do Windows?" :J

And That's Final!

2007-12-18T12:17:00.000-05:00

Exams are over, at last, and my first semester of law school is history, but a relaxing winter break is hardly in the cards for me.

To celebrate the end of exams, Chris and I went to Asheville for the weekend, dined at one of the restaurants on Biltmore Estate (The Bistro), and took a candle-light tour of Biltmore House. The food was excellent and it was fun to see the House in its full holiday finery, but I had car trouble on the trip. My car, Diego, decided to help me to develop an appreciation for irony and chose one of the coldest days of the year, in Asheville, in the snow even, to fry his water pump and overheat. He is now convalescing at the mechanic's while I get a work-out on the bus.

Right after all the family visits and festivities, I'll be consumed with packing and moving, since my roommate bought a new house a few weeks ago and will close the deal just before New Year. My cat, Cilantro, displeased with my scarcity around the house since I entered law school, has taken to urinating in a few choice spots around our current house. He can't do that in the new house, so as part of the move, he's going to Virginia to live with Jeff. I'm sure that I'll enjoy the brief visit with Jeff and his family, but I'll for sure miss Cilantro's rich personality and his antics. (Yes, it was just over a year ago that my other cat, Curry, passed away of complications from diabetes.)

On the brighter side, Chris has kitted out his condo with a doggie bed, kennel, and bowls in anticipation of my dog, Pepper, spending more time there. The ability to bring Pepper with me to Chris' along with Cilantro's move will give me a lot more flexibility with regard to traveling with Pepper and staying in Greensboro without feeling guilty about leaving her behind and imposing on my roommate to look after her.

I'm keeping my spirits up during all of this with feeling good about exams (grades in February), thinking about how much worse some of these scenarios could have turned out, and looking forward to my trip to Spain this summer!

Let's wrap things up with a random thought... Is it any wonder that two-thirds of personal bankruptcies in the United States are because of medical bills? My grandpa had heart surgery to replace a valve a few months ago and the bills have started to roll in. The first one was an eye-popper. For two weeks of hospitalization, two days of which were in intensive care, the bill was $110,000. Where I live, that's a modest house! Yes, his insurance will pay much of that, but can you imagine his reaction if he didn't have insurance? I dare say that his heart surgery would have been for naught at that point.

¡Feliz Navidad y prospero año nuevo! :J

Black's Friday

2007-11-30T17:19:00.000-05:00

If I were more conscientious, I'd probably write in my blog more often. Then again, since I'm in law school, if I were more conscientious, I might have put my blog on hiatus while classes were in session. As with most anything, both perspectives are equally valid and could be convincingly argued by a skilled orator (or oratrix). Classes ended yesterday, I handed in the last project for my skills classes today, and the two-week final exam period for my substantive law classes begins Monday!

I have learned much cool vocabulary in my first semester of law school, some of which I will endeavor to incorporate in a more or less puckish way into my daily patois, including the following.

vexatious delay:: Black's Law Dictionary (8th edition, 2004) defines this as "An insurance company's unjustifiable refusal to satisfy an insurance claim, esp. based on a mere suspicion but no hard facts that the claim is ill-founded." I define this as spiteful dawdling.
prolixity (n.):: Black's defines this as "The unnecessary and superfluous stating of facts and arguments in pleading or evidence." I define it as argumentative, redundant, and irrelevant. The adjective form is prolix, which sounds like a medication for sexual dysfunction or a mechanical aid for such a condition.
frolic:: Black's calls this an employee's significant deviation from the employer's business for personal reasons; a frolic is outside the scope of employment, and thus the employer is not vicariously liable for the employee's actions.
detour:: Blacks' says that this is an employee's minor deviation from the employer's business for personal reasons; because a detour falls within the scope of employment, the employer is still vicariously liable for the employee's actions.
frolic and detour:: going off-course to do something unrelated to the original errand

So, in an effort to avoid the vexatious delay of my studies, I shall avoid prolixity and defer any frolic and detour until after my exams conclude on 13 December. :J

Fall Break

2007-10-19T13:04:00.000-04:00

Oh, merde! I forgot that I have a blog!

No, I didn't really forget, but sometimes it would seem that way. The truth is that a combination of school and what many bloggers suffer (call it burnout, block, or what have you) have conspired to both prevent me from writing and keep me unmotivated to write.

I will note that law school is going well. It is certainly challenging, but I feel that I have a hold on things. (We'll see if that feeling lasts past Thanksgiving or, for that matter, very far into November.) There is endless reading, but it's not like reading a novel or even reading a college textbook, it's like reading a refrigerator warranty, a credit card agreement, or a mortgage promissory note. It's dense, detailed, and, quite often, dull. To continue the alliteration, it requires a good dose of diligence, too. I often get a page or two into my nightly reading and begin to think about how dry it is and how much of it yet lies ahead. My mind drifts and suddenly it's two pages later and I can't recall a word from from those two pages, so I have to go back to what I do remember and pick it up there. Right on cue, my brain drifts at the same point as if triggered to do so by a particular word (no doubt a Latin word). I repeat the process, staying alert for the trigger word, and force myself past the blockade.

Not all of the reading is dull. Earlier this week, I knew that things were going to be interesting when a case began, "An unfortunate combination of gasoline, matches, and a seven-year-old boy resulted in the lawsuit which underlies this appeal." (Peterson v. Taylor, 316 NW 2d 869, Iowa 1982). Then there was the case that even my case book referred to as "The Nitroglycerin Case" (Parrot v. Wells-Fargo, 82 US 524, 21 L Ed 206, 1872). Ahh, if only all of life were as blazingly gratifying as torts class!

Fortunately, fall break gave me a reprieve from school earlier this week and I was able to enjoy a bit of life as I once knew it. Chris and I rented a cabin in Grayson County, Virginia, and spent a weekend on the side of a mountain, 20 miles from the nearest grocery store, in the middle of the pasture of a sanctuary farm for rescued animals. Rugby Creek Farm is home to horses, goats, dogs, cats, chickens, donkeys, and guinea hens that have been rescued from a variety of sad situations. Cabin rentals help to fund their full-time animal rescue operation, which recently achieved 501(c)3 non-profit status. We toured the farm and met all of the animals, enjoyed a short but scenic hike in Grayson Highlands State Park, and attended a molasses festival at the Mount Rogers Volunteer Fire Department and Rescue Squad. I also seized the opportunity to do something that I've not had the time to do since I've been in school -- I cooked! Bringing some ingredients from home and gathering more provisions from the Food City in Independence (where the local newspaper is called The Declaration), I made a pot of vegetarian chili on Saturday evening. See photos from the weekend in my Flickr.

We returned home on Sunday evening. I had grand plans to catch up and get ahead by reading supplements and getting my outlines in order, but so much stuff that I've put off during school (filing, laundry, software updates, etc) stood up and demanded attention and it was all that I could do on Tuesday evening to finish my reading for Wednesday. Ugh.

I'm already looking forward to the summer and how I'm going to fill my time without school. I'd like to get an internship in a law office or working for a judge for part of the summer, but I'm making plans to go to Madrid for another part of the summer to work on my language skills. I've applied to UNCG's program in Madrid (which focuses on language and culture) and am looking at William and Mary's program (which focuses on European law).

For now, I'm paddling along until Christmas, by which time I'll be looking festive with my red eyes and green complexion. :J

I Heart Papaw

2007-09-25T12:42:00.000-04:00

Papaw's surgery went well on Friday. The doctor did replace one of his valves, but decided against also performing a bypass; this, after removing the vein from his leg and cleaning it in preparation for attaching it around a partial blockage of one of his cardiac arteries. That decision gave me pause -- I mean, the doctor's already in there and at Papaw's age, it's not like the doctor will likely ever go back in there! I learned, however, that doing the bypass carries with it the risk of dislodging calcium deposits in the artery that could travel and lodge themselves elsewhere and potentially block the flow of blood to a crucial area. This combined with the fact that other arteries had taken on some of the job of the partially-blocked artery tipped the risk-benefit analysis against doing the bypass.

I visited Papaw in the hospital on Sunday and found that he continues to recover quickly. He was predictably feeble and a bit foggy because of his pain medication, but considering that he'll soon be 84 years old and had just had this chest sawed open two days before, he's doing darn well! I'm very thankful for that, because I heart my Papaw! :J

Life Happens

2007-09-20T09:13:00.000-04:00

Yep, life goes on, even when you've built a fort of Aspen case books around yourself. I found out yesterday that Papaw will have open-heart surgery tomorrow (Fri, 21 Sep) to replace a faulty valve. I knew from a doctor visit that he had several weeks ago that the procedure was inevitable, but found out just yesterday that the blackouts that he's been having are a result of this faulty valve and that the next blackout could be his last. So, he and Mamaw are headed to Charlotte today for pre-operative tests. He'll likely be in the hospital for a week and could have another week in a rehabilitation center after that. Though it's a major event, I'm not unduly concerned about the procedure itself; it's the recovery that concerns me. I'm afraid that Papaw will go stir-crazy not being able to move about freely and that the added responsibility of intensely caring for someone will wear on Mamaw. I hope that their financial situation and their pride will allow them to hire a home health-care worker.

It's been almost a month since my last blog entry. Some topics have crossed my mind, but I've not had time to develop my thoughts on them or commit them to writing. I miss my daily walks around UNCG; I occasionally walk around downtown, but it's not as enjoyable. There are many conservative people around me, but I have found that most of them are quite cool; "conservative" seems to have different implications for my many classmates who are 12-14 years younger than me. When I've visited UNCG, I've experienced something akin to culture shock at observing how people dress on that campus (hip, trendy, casual) compared to how folks dress at Elon Law (stylish, dressy, casually/comfortably conservative). Those are just a few of the things that have been crossing my mind lately (besides elements of intent, personal jurisdiction, bargain for consideration, and adverse possession). :J

WWAFD?

2007-08-23T15:30:00.000-04:00

Forget those trite WWJD bumper stickers and bracelets. Here's a contemporary example of ethical behavior and fairness with which many of us could more easily identify -- Atticus Finch, one of the main characters in Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. So, the next time that an ethical dilemma confronts you, just ask yourself...

"What would Atticus Finch do?"

Here's your sign.

2007-08-22T16:47:00.000-04:00

The more astute among you might have noticed that I've been curiously inactive here and on Flickr since I entered law school. It's true; I've been incredibly busy and, though things have happened on which I'd like to comment, I just haven't had time to write anything.

The title here is a tip-o-the-tuque to Bill Engvall, but has nothing to do with common stupidity. Often, when at an important crossroads in our lives, we might ask God for a sign of what action we should take or for affirmation that we're on the right path. Though I'm unsure of what God was signaling, a sign came through LOUDLY and CLEARLY two Sundays ago.

Chris and I went to church at College Park Baptist Church in Greensboro and sat near the back (Though American rather than Southern, it's still a Baptist church.), next to the aisle. A few minutes into the service, as we were settling in for the sermon, I heard a VERY loud crash and a womon's scream. I don't think that I realized what happened because I don't remember jumping or being startled; I think that I had one of those moments where your hearing goes out for just a split second and you miss a syllable of a conversation. I noticed what looked like bird's feathers drifting down from the ceiling into the aisle next to me, looked down to see the little, grey bits covering the men in the aisle across from me, and then looked on the floor to see the vent diffuser from the ceiling now lying on the floor. This 3-feet-across hunk of metal had somehow become dislodged from the vent and dropped 25 feet to the floor in the middle of worship! What's more, it had missed me by about 6 feet and the gentlemen across from me (who were now covered by bits of insulation and compacted dust) by only 2-3 feet!

Everyone in the sanctuary just sat quietly for a couple of minutes, stunned, wondering what to do. The Pastor paused, conferred with the worship leader, then announced that we were moving worship to the smaller chapel. We made our way out of the sanctuary, filed the much smaller chapel, and finished our worship. (Ironically and, perhaps, foolishly, I sat directly beneath a brass and glass chandelier in the chapel.) I shared this event with several church-going friends and discussed the shared experience with a staff member at school who also attends church there, but mostly got on with the week and just enjoyed the shock value in telling the story.

Chris and I returned to College Park this past Sunday and, upon entering the sanctuary, looked up to see what had become of the gravitationally-challenged diffuser. It had been reinstalled in its proper place. During worship, the pastor reassured us by sharing the news that a professional had reinstalled the diffuser and checked the others to ensure that they were secure in their spots.

The funniest part of all this happened during the offering this past Sunday. As the ushers approached the altar in preparation to collect the offering, we noticed that they were wearing hard hats, which they then used instead of collection plates to collect the offering! Ha! A congregation with a wry sense of humor--I could make it my church home! :J

Bollywood Balderdash

2007-08-11T23:39:00.000-04:00

This weekend was Chris' birthday and in his honor, some friends came over on Saturday for a cook-out. After eating burgers, hot dogs, cake, and ice cream, we ended up playing Beyond Balderdash. The original Balderdash involves coming up with definitions for unusual words and tricking your opponents into picking the wrong one (hopefully your own), while trying to figure out for yourself which is the correct definition. Beyond Balderdash find the players bluffing movie plots and the significance of dates, abbreviations, and then names of famous people. Among the terms for which we made up explanations were two movie titles for which we came up with a group of plots that were so creative that I had to share them here.

New Pastures

A businesswoman from Los Angeles moves to the country to make a new life after losing her husband in an earthquake.
Documentary about triple-crown winners after retirement.
Czechoslovakian production with subtitles about three jailbirds who get into trouble when they arrive in their hometown.
Cutting-edge research scientists attempt to publicize a cure for the Hanta virus in the face of government opposition.
Aliens, dissatisfied with life in outer space, disguise themselves and take up residence in rural Iowa.

The Mysterious Mr Wong

A small production about a Chinese immigrant cooking homeless people from the streets of New York in Chinatown.
Foreign comedy about a case of mistaken identity between a jewel thief and a dentist.
Bela Lugosi stars as a Chinese crook trying to capture twelve coins that will make him powerful.
The last Charlie Chan novel committed to film, noted for a cameo appearance by Vincent Price.
Hong Kong police seek a mafia figure.

What a hoot! This was a fun game, one that I look forward to playing again, perhaps with some of my new law school classmates! You'll have to cut me some slack on the title of this entry; I couldn't think of any other B word related to cinema with which to achieve alliteration with Balderdash. By the way, in both cases, the third plot outline is the true one. :J

Whitewater, take me away!

2007-08-05T23:26:00.000-04:00

Shorty entry tonight.

Roomie Leslie heard about a man-made white-water facility in Charlotte, so on Saturday, several of us headed down to the US National Whitewater Center. Chris; my cousin, Jenny; two of Leslie's work friends, both named Debbie; and I piled into a rubber boat with helmets and flotation vests with a guide and two other tourists and spent two hours on rapids in classes 2-4. It was awesome! I was quite anxious about the whole affair, not knowing what to expect and wondering what I'd do if I went overboard. Fortunately, the facility gave us a good run-down of basic paddling techniques and safety procedures, so I felt fairly well prepared before I got in the boat. Our boat did tip twice, but my feet stayed wedged fast under the inflated cross-braces, so I stayed in, though the womon in front of me went for a dip. Our biggest mishap was arriving a few minutes late for our appointed time and having to wait for 90 minutes until they could squeeze us in. If you go, DO make a reservation and DO check-in at the training pavilions early! Leslie; Christopher; and another of Leslie's work friends, also named Debbie (I'm beginning to think that all of Leslie's work friends are named Debbie, even the guys.) went flat-water kayaking due to Christopher's age. Debbie's boyfriend elected to bring his bike and he enjoyed the several miles of trails that meander around the facility. We'd entertained notions of stopping at Northlake Mall or Concord Mills on the way home, but we were so beat that we headed directly home, stopping only after we arrived in Kernersville for a yummy dinner at Don Juan's.

Law school orientation starts Thursday, just 3.5 days from now. I'm excited, but I'm also a bit bummed because I've scarcely made a dent in the list of projects that I wanted to work on between leaving work and starting school. I'm going to Rockingham to visit Mamaw and Papaw for a few days this week, but I'd also like to visit Mum if only I had a bit more time. If I were to be realistic about it, I could lay out until Christmas and still not get everything done! You'll recall that I have to wear a suit to the first two days of orientation (the first day for photos and the second day to look presentable for big-wigs). Well, I had a look at the forecast for Thursday and it's calling for a high temperature of ONE HUNDRED degrees F (38 C)! Yikes! I guess it's all in a day's work. Er... :J

Last Hurrah

2007-08-02T19:51:00.000-04:00

Just before my final days at work this past Monday and Tuesday (30 and 31 July), Chris and I headed out of town for a brief get-away. We had wanted to go to New York and see Fantasia Barrino play Miss Celie in the Broadway version of The Color Purple, but that trip fell apart as we studied our respective budgets. We scaled back our plans and decided on a couple of road trips instead of one big, fantastic voyage.

So, last Friday, Chris and I piled into the car and headed north to Lynchburg. Chris lived in Lynchburg for a few years and I had visited Lynchburg often over the previous several years, as it's the hometown of my ex, Jeff, and his family sstill lives there. Upon arrival in Lynchburg, I met Jeff's mom to exchange some of his and my possessions that had gotten shuffled in the moves. I brought her some of her favorite candy treats and Chris and I both enjoyed chatting with her. We then met a friend of Chris' for lunch at a Lynchburg-style Chinese buffet (complete with all of the normal, Americanized Chinese fare, plus french fries, pigs in blankets, pizza, cheese and seafood tartlets, and an array of dishes made by combining the same six ingredients in different proportions; kinda like Taco Bell, but "Chinese" instead of "Mexican"). As much as I deride it, I enjoy an occasional dose of Lynchburg-style Chinese food. After Lunch, I paid homage to tradition by hitting the J.Crew outlet (J.Crew is based in Lynchburg and this is a real outlet attached to the warehouse!) and the outlet of the Old Virginia Candle Factory, which is always a good place to find Christmas and birthday gifts.

I'd planned a surprise for Chris on Saturday, who organized and surprised me with several adventures when I visited him in the Philippines. (I'd have no idea where I was going and end up on a donkey headed up a volcano or on a plane to Fantasy Island.) We were planning to go to church at Pullen Memorial Baptist Church in Raleigh on Sunday and I wanted to find a hotel near Raleigh so that we wouldn't miss church like we did the last time that we tried to attend Pullen when we ended up too hungover to go! So, I was poking around on Google Earth to find a nice hotel with a spa and spotted the Carnivore Preservation Trust, an animal rescue facility near Pittsboro that has tigers, leopards, ocelots, servals, jaguars, and other carnivorous cats and keystone species. It sounded like fun, so I made a reservation and we ended up enjoying an educational, 90-minute tour of the facility and introduction to several of their eighty resident animals. We watched tigers feast on whole chickens, saw a male tiger spray (Think garden hose.), and enjoyed the antics of a deceptively comical kinkajou.

Leslie, my roommate, had gone to the Raleigh-Durham airport to pick up her nephew and her sister, so we met them and had dinner at Southpoint mall in Durham after screening Knocked Up on our own. After dinner, we headed to Raleigh. I gave up on finding a hotel with a spa in my price range, so I just got us a room at the Holiday Inn next to Pullen so that we'd have minimal excuses for missing church the next morning. We did roll out of bed and attend church, where we were treated to a Taizé-style worship service (the main feature of which are musical chants in-between the components of worship) that also incorporated vignettes of prayerful dance.

After church, we visited some of Chris' friends, Andy and Megan, who'd recently become parents. Another friend, Brooks, who knows all of us one way or another (I met him at Wake Forest Baptist Church.) and who happens to now be the youth minister at Pullen, also joined us and we spent a lovely afternoon catching up and taking turns holding the baby. Andy is a software developer, Brooks used to work as a Macintosh technician, and I was until just recently a database administrator, so it was predestined that the three of us would end up geeking out for a while. Sure enough, we headed up to the Andy's study to "ooh" and "ahh" over the Commodore 64 that he'd recently purchased on eBay to relive a bit of his youth. I mistakenly identified it as a Commodore 128 until he pointd out that it was a 64 in its second-generation case. He'd kitted it out with a monochrome monitor, two disk drives, and a HUGE mouse that plugged into the joystick port. He demonstrated the GEOS software that he'd installed that put a Macintosh-style GUI on the Commodore. I mentioned that I had a TI-99/4A and we went on for awhile about the TI's superior graphics and sound, the Commodore's greater popularity, and the deficiencies of the two (TI's curious implementation of BASIC and convoluted code interpretation, Commodore's crippled serial bus that made access to disk data slow). All we lacked was the tape on our glasses, the goose-honking laughter, and our tri-Lam sweatshirts! We visited for a long time and ended up going for dinner immediately after leaving Andy and Megan's house. I was able to talk Chris into going to one of my favorite restaurants, Sweet Tomatoes, whose nearest location is in Raleigh. Yum!

The weekend gave way to a short work-week, since Tuesday was my last day at work before beginning law school next week. I tied up some loose ends and snuck out, wanting to avoid any long goodbyes. My law school text books have begun arriving and information about orientation has been arriving steadily. I have recently learned that I must wear a suit for my first two days! I might as well get used to it, since gone are the days of wearing camp shirts, cargo shorts, and hiking sandals to work. Silk ties, starched shirts, and wool suits will soon replace them. I might just have to rebel a bit and wear seersucker or olive drab and, to be sure, my faithful bow-ties shall make frequent appearances! Feh. Trust me to rebel by being über-traditional! :J

It hasn't yet registered, though I have.

2007-07-26T14:42:00.000-04:00

I received in the mail last week my class schedule for my first semester of law school and it looks crazy! It includes six classes that represent fairly standard 1L fare: Civil Procedure, Contracts, Property, Torts, Legal Writing and Research, and Issues in Lawyering and Leadership. This adds up to 15 credit hours, quite a heavy load for graduate-level work! (Fifteen hours was my normal load in undergrad and most graduate students would tell you that 9 hours is normal and 12 hours is pushing it.) On the bright side, only four of my classes have final exams and they're spread out over a two-week period. The craziest thing about the schedule is how the classes are "arranged". Some meet on Tuesday and Thursday; one meets Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday; one meets only on Monday; one meets on Wednesday and Friday; another meets at different times on Wednesday and Friday. This bit of paper will be well-worn by the time I get the hang of that schedule.

With my list of courses in hand, I went shopping for books today, comparing prices and trying to balance cost with the condition of used textbooks. I ended up buying from amazon.com and independent sellers on half.com and amazon.com and spent a total of $479, including shipping. I fell confident that I saved a bit over buying used texts from the campus shop and probably would've spent about $1,000 had I purchased all new texts.

Along with my class schedule came other information explaining that our first couple of days would be half-days filled with normal registration and orientation activities: ID cards, parking registration, gym passes, locker assignments, laptop computer wireless configuration, etc. Notably, I'll have to wear a suit on my first day for my a portrait that will appear in a jobs placement booklet. The following full days will include more orientation, a skills and personality assessment (DISC profile, Myers-Briggs inventory), a tour of the main campus, a reception a the University President's house, a service project, and three days of "boot camp" meant to "introduce students to the rigors of law school and the differences between legal education and undergraduate learning."

An interesting side-note to the above mention of personality assessments is that I took the Myers-Briggs inventory in undergrad and turned out as ENFP; when I took it a few years later, I turned out ISTJ. Upon reading the linked descriptions of these personality types, I see little relevant to my own personality in the ENFP type, but the ISTJ type reads like the report of a private investigator that has followed me for the past ten years!

Besides preparations for a new beginning in school, I'm also winding things down at work by finishing projects, documenting my procedures, answering colleagues' questions, and exchanging goodbyes with co-workers that I've know as long as 18 years! I've also had more than one party thrown in my honor, which featured amazing food (sushi, hummus, shrimp, scallops, smoked salmon, salsa, bean dip, brownies, cookies -- all of my favorites!), good drink (Yuengling), and brief speakers. My colleagues in ERIT chipped-in and gave me an iPod as a going-away gift, which was a wonderful surprise!

One of my colleagues asked me what I'd miss most about working in the Libraries and in ERIT. I glibly gave a few obvious answers: the free health insurance, the regular hours, seeing the same folks every day. Honestly, though, I don't know that I'm able to say what I'll miss. Having been where I am for so long and having work become such a part of me and me of it, I don't know that I can distinguish enough between the people, places, and activities of work and those of other parts of my life to think about missing them. It's as if someone were to ask you what you'd miss about breathing air or living with gravity. I'm going into something so different and exciting that I imagine that my new environment and experiences will handily fill many of the voids left behind my current routines. :J

What's in a name?

2007-07-15T15:15:00.001-04:00

Even after a fun-filled Saturday evening, Chris and I managed get up and go to church this morning. The plan was to return to Congregational UCC, where Chris and I went two weeks ago. We had even arranged to meet my roommate and a friend there. As we walked from the parking lot and across the street to the church, Chris lamented our last visit when we heard a call to action against the genocide in Darfur from a guest speaker instead of a sermon from the regular pastor (more useful in searching for a church home). Chris joked that we'd go elsewhere if we found a guest speaker on the program again!

We entered and found Leslie and Larry waiting for us. We greeted them and sat down, whereupon Leslie pointed to the bulletin and said, "it looks like they're having a guest speaker today!" Chris and I each let out a little groan. I looked at my watch and wondered aloud whether we'd have time to go anywhere else, since it was five minutes before 11 o'clock, but after scarcely 30 seconds of discussion, the four of us were up and out of the pew and heading down the street.

We zipped down Aycock St and made it into College Park Baptist Church in the nick of time. I was glad that we made the switch, as I very much enjoyed the sermon by their pastor, Michael Usey. Based on an interesting translation (The Message) of Acts 10:34-43, the sermon focused on sharing our faith in a way to which other people can relate. College Park is a quite progressive church full of intelligent congregants who are sensitive to the pluralistic nature of our society and who respect and celebrate differences. (As was evidenced in the children's sermon, which stressed that God made all of us, that God made us different from one another, and that God loves us as we are.) Pastor Michael allowed that many in such an audience might be hesitant to speak openly about their faith because of the way in which evangelism and much talk of faith and religion in general has been co-opted, politicized, and radicalized by right-wing politico-evangelicals. "Amen!" and "That's right." came agreement and echoes of frustration from the congregation.

Progressive, open-minded, and tolerant people of faith shouldn't shy away from talking about their beliefs out of fear of being identified with the political religiosity of the radical right. Rather, they should speak all the more openly and share their perspectives to bring to an end the notion that religious matters are the intellectual property of the radical right. Let's show the masses in the middle and each other that religion and evangelism aren't the political construct that the radical right has made them out to be over the past thirty-odd years! Let's show that genuine Christianity is also tolerance, understanding, compassion, loving one's neighbor, and the pursuit of peace!

From what I know of most religions, they all have the promotion of peace and love at their hearts, though they might arrive at those ends by different means. I have long believed that whether one calls one's god Yahweh, Allah, Jesus, Buddha, or simply God, it's the same god. (That's where I got the title for this entry.) The point isn't so much that one worship in the manner prescribed by any particular sect, but that one be in touch with the higher power that runs the universe. For me, that's the benevolent, omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent God about which Jesus of Nazareth taught. This brings me back around to the main point of Pastor Michael's sermon and this blog entry -- that we are all children of God and that God loves all of us as we are, even when we fall short of the one in whose image we were each made -- God. :J

Hot Like Bea

2007-07-11T09:45:00.000-04:00

A little levity amidst the summer torridness...

Go, go Golden Girls! :J

Renaissance Man

2007-07-07T07:23:00.000-04:00

Though it came and went with little aplomb and no confetti, ticker-tape, or even a cake was involved, Monday, 2 July 2007 was one of the most significant days of my life. In about five minutes' time, I printed a letter that I'd previously composed, signed it, and handed it to my department manager. In this unceremonious way, I quit my job.

This is a big deal for anyone and I know of few people who would expect any sort of flourish of chads to accompany it (with the possible exception of Rip Taylor), but it was a huge deal for me. Where I currently work is the ONLY place that I have held a full-time job and I have been here full-time for fourteen years. In State Employee years, that's nearly half-way to retirement. Add to it the four years that I spent in this same building as a part-time student employee and the sum is half of my lifetime!

My colleague, Franklin, who is a year older than me, who began working full-time in the Library at the same age as I, and with whom I have worked in the same department for the past ten years, told me that it would feel strange for him to come to work without me there. I jokingly asked him what he'd do and suggested that he join me in my renaissance by going to medical school; he confessed that he had, indeed, briefly entertained such notions. (Maybe when everyone in his family who's currently in school finishes.)

Franklin might not know how he will feel to come to work and find my chair empty, but with what I look forward to, I imagine that it will feel wonderful! :J

A Sunday in Ordinary Time

2007-07-01T22:49:00.000-04:00

I went to church today for the first time in several weeks, to Congregational UCC in Greensboro. Chris suggested visiting this church a couple of weeks ago and I've wanted to visit a UCC for quite a while, so we finally got our act together and went. The denomination's motto is "God is still speaking," with emphasis on the comma at the end of the phrase, ostensibly meaning that God's message is alive, dynamic, and relevant to our contemporary lives. UCC ran a series of television adverts a few years ago that stirred up a bit of controversy. One depicted various folks who didn't fit in (a punk-rocker youth, an African-American family, an immigrant man, a gay couple, a single mother, etc) being ejected from their seats in one church. Another portrayed bouncers denying entry to an exclusive night club to a similar crew of folks, while allowing in a stereotypical, white, affluent, family with opposite-gender parents. The climax of the commercials was the diverse bunch later being welcomed at a UCC.

I know several people that attend this church, as it's quite near my old neighborhood in Greensboro, but I didn't see many people that I knew well. I nevertheless felt very welcomed by the pastor's remarks and by the many friendly congregants that greeted me, though no one was pushy about getting me to wear a visitor's pin or to fill out a visitor's card. (I hate that.) Besides the friendliness of the congregation, two things stood out to me about this morning's service.

First, I noticed as we approached the church that a car was parked in the driveway just a few feet from the front door. There were hoses lying on the ground all around the car and people were buzzing about it like a pit crew. As we walked in the door, an usher handed us a bulletin and explained that this was their tire inflation clinic, one of their ministries as a "green" church.

The second thing that stood out was that, in the absence of the regular choir and music director, local celebrity musician Martha Bassett had come to do all of the music for the service. It turns out that Martha used to lead the children's choir at the church.

Not only was there a guest musician, but a guest speaker for the sermon, as well. Though the pastor, Reverend Julie Peeples was present, she yielded the pulpit to Tim Nonn, an activist and fellow minister who is on a 40-day train trip across the United States to raise awareness about the genocidal crisis in Darfur. The theme of his sermon was hope and how we could help to give some glimmer of hope to the many in Darfur that have been rendered hopeless.

Following church, Chris and I did a bit of shopping to further feather his new nest and had lunch at Wholly Guacamole. I returned home to tend to an auction that ended today and Chris came over for dinner later. Now, I'm off to bed and am looking forward to a new project and a short week at work! :J

Add to my resume? Under what heading?

2007-06-23T12:12:00.000-04:00

I feel especially accomplished today, but it's not because I revamped my investment plan or washed all of the laundry and dishes. It's because, after several years of intermittently playing Minesweeper, I finally won at the advanced level! Woo-hoo! The feat only took me 45 minutes and 23 seconds. I only wished that I had achieved this months ago so that I could've made mention of it on my law school applications. :J

All the Ron

2007-06-08T17:42:00.000-04:00

I received a note from my friend, Ron, in Nashville announcing that he'll be DJing tomorrow (Sat, 9 Jun) night at the Swan Ball, a big funds-raiser for Cheekwood Botanical Garden and a huge event on Nashville's social calendar. Ron is very excited about this, with just cause. Not only is he bringing dance music to one of the hoitiest of Nashville's hoity-toity events, he's also going to be experimenting with his new VJ set-up, which includes some experimental equipment that will let him more easily beat-mix videos in the way that DJs mix songs. (Not just DJing -- VJing!) It should be quite fab. Did I mention that Jay Leno and Earth, Wind, and Fire will be appearing at the Ball, too?

Check out Ron's, Cheekwood's, and Swan Ball's Web sites, linked above, and read the story about Ron in All the Rage, the weekly happenings rag published by The Tennessean (their equivalent of Winston-Salem's Relish).

So, Ron, will I soon have to adjust my bookmarks to point to vjron.com instead of djron.com? :J

Update: Since the 2007 Swan Ball has come and gone, Ron has posted some photos of the VJ booth at the event. Enjoy!

Stickin' it to the Crooks

2007-06-07T18:54:00.000-04:00

The following letter is in response to a complaint that I filed after receiving an unsolicited, pre-recorded commercial telephone call. My phone numbers are on the national Do-Not-Call lists. Additionally, North Carolina law prohibits pre-recorded solicitations, use of automatic dialers, calls outside of certain hours, and blocking of the company's information from Caller ID.

The call in question was offering information about lowering my credit card interest rate and said at the end that I should press one number to be removed from the calling list or another number to speak to a customer service representative. When I pressed the one number to be removed, a message said that I had made an invalid selection. When I pressed the other number, I heard a few clicks before an agent answered and asked for me to confirm that I wished to lower my credit card interest rate. I replied that I was, instead, interested in knowing her name, her representative number, and the name of her company. This caught her off guard and led her to eventually hang up on me.

In filing the complaint, I provided the date and time of the call, a synopsis of the call, and the phone number that appeared on Caller ID. The complaint form is available online at the DOJ's Web site, nocallsnc.com, though you have to print it and complete it manually before mailing it. The Attorney General's office took care of the rest! Get 'em, Roy!

State of North Carolina
Department of Justice
9001 Mail Service Center
Raleigh NC 27699-9001

Roy Cooper, Attorney General

May 29, 2007

RE: File No. 0705197, Ervin

Dear Mr. Ervin:

This letter is in reference to the complaint you filed with the Attorney General's Office, Consumer Protection Division, alleging violation of North Carolina's Do Not Call law. Your written complaint helped the Attorney General determine to seek a settlement with Card Member Services, the company from which you received an unwelcome telephone solicitation. A more thorough, and possible long term, investigation is under way into this matter. Among the terms we will be asking for will include:

Fully comply with North Carolina "Do Not Call" laws and related federal statutes;

Ensure proper training of all the company's telemarketing representatives calling North Carolina residents;

Maintain written records of Do Not Call complaints from North Carolina residents for a period of five years; and

Pay civil penalties and related investigation costs.

Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention. Without concerned residents like you, it would not be possible to enforce North Carolina's Do Not Call law. In the future, should you encounter any business practices that you believe violate the law, telemarketing or otherwise, please contact us at 1-877-566-7226.

With kind regards, I am

Very truly yours,
David Fox
Telephone Privacy Protection Specialist
919-716-6000
[e-mail address omitted here]
noscamnc.gov

Kernersvegas

2007-05-31T20:00:00.000-04:00

By now, I should've closed on and moved into my condo in Greensboro. Negotiations with the seller were quite brief and the inspection turned up little of concern. I knew when I made the offer that I was buying the most expensive unit in the community of about 200 condos, but I figured that it was worth it since there's steady demand for housing in that area and my unit would have a brand new kitchen, furnace, water heater, and even a gas stove for back-up heat. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be.

Bad news came back with the appraisal, which valued the unit at about 5% less than what I'd agreed to pay. The seller, who was not using an agent, had made noises that he wasn't willing to lower the price since he'd accounted for his renovations and a buyer's agent's commission in the price. At the same time, the mortgage company wouldn't lend me all of the money that I'd need to buy the place. I had a few options before me if I really wanted the place. I could pay for another appraisal, but that seemed pointless. The appraisal looked reasonable enough to me and my realtor's research revealed it to be so; it even appeared that the appraiser had tried to help me out a bit by using comparables at the higher end of the scale and looking at a very similar community about a mile away (Whilden Place) where units sell at consistently higher prices. Other options involved even more money coming out of my pocket and none of them were at all appealing; some even seemed ethically questionable, though legal. I decided to let the condo go on the grounds that it didn't appraise and I couldn't get satisfactory financing. It took about a week of my realtor's arm-twisting and my own hand-wringing to convince the sellers to sign termination papers on the sales contract, but they finally did and I look forward to picking up a check for my earnest money before the weekend.

During this drama, Leslie, my friend with whom I was staying in Kernersville, made me a very good offer to rent space in her house. A bit of budget forecasting showed that this would be a very good move, even after accounting for the additional fuel and car maintenance costs, and would provide each of us with a built-in pet-sitter.

I've spent the past week settling into my new digs, the large bonus room above Leslie's garage. She installed ceiling fans and a closet system and I've been dragging things out from storage to make the place homey. I brought Cilly to his new home and he is acclimating well and becoming acquainted with his new canine cousin, Leslie's dog, Emma.

With the housing question answered, I turned my attention to other law school housekeeping matters -- applying for student loans and purchasing a laptop. The loan applications are in and I hope to hear something soon. I'd assumed that I'd buy a Dell laptop, but I don't care for the looks of their current line. I'd seen some nice Hewlett-Packard laptops at Costco, so I compared prices around town. Costco's prices were about the best around (bested by Sam's by a few pennies, but beating hp.com by a few hundred dollars). I was still nervous about shelling out so much money for a computer with an operating system that I'd never used (Windows Vista) from a manufacturer with whose products I had little experience, but Costco has a good return policy for computers, offers technical support, and extends the manufacturer's warranty on computers that it sells, so I finally settled on configuring a system myself on costco.com and expect it to arrive soon.

Meanwhile, Chris has been having his own housing drama, but I can hear the fat lady warming up so a climax seems to be drawing near; he'll move into his new condo this weekend.

Though I've heard the -vegas suffix applied with varying degrees of admiration and derision to many -villes (particularly Nashville, to become Nashvegas), Kernersvegas is a particularly apt moniker for Kernersville for me, since Leslie moved here about a year ago from Las Vegas AND the fact that I'm about to roll the dice in the crap-shoot of life in a quite fabulous way. :J

Lien on Me

2007-05-17T20:52:00.000-04:00

In order to avoid any confusion whatsoever, I'm gonna spoil the story that I'm about to tell by disclosing up front that my friend and ex, Jeff, actually did nothing wrong. Rather, he and I were the victims of coincidence and someone else's sloppiness and, in fact, he was instrumental in helping to put things right.

The closing on the sale of my house was scheduled for this week, so my realtor and I had been working feverishly to put everything in place so that all would go off without a hitch. I had already spoken to him once or twice when he called at mid-morning this past Monday (14 May) and asked a question that I never wanted to hear.

"Are you aware that Jeff put a lien for $10,000 on your house? That'll have to be paid before we can close."

The words echoed in my head and the cacophony grew until I thought my brain would burst. I was completely blind-sided and had no idea what to say, much less what to do. I walked outside, mobile phone in hand, to call Jeff, but decided to detour to the restroom so that I wouldn't have to endure a full bladder while having what I expected to be a contentious conversation.

Before I could get back outside, John called again to share additional information that he'd learned. "It looks like it wasn't Jeff that put the lien on the house. Someone sued Jeff and won a judgment against him and put the lien on the house when his name was still on it." This shed a different light on the situation, but it didn't really make it any better.

I called my buyer's attorney and spoke at length to her paralegal. She mentioned the name of the company that placed the lien, but had few other details. There was no other information in the judgment against which to match Jeff's middle name, date of birth, or other identifiers. She casually mentioned that the judgment contained only his name (a very common name which he shared with The (late) Frugal Gourmet) and address. I asked about the address and when she read it to me, I didn't recognize it as one where Jeff had ever lived. I went to the Web site of our county tax office and found that Jeff and his wife at that address. In a later conversation, the paralegal asked me if Jeff had ever been married to a woman whose name I recognized from the tax records. "Absolutely not," I replied. She confirmed that this was a case of mistaken identity and said that we'd just need to get Jeff to sign an affidavit that this wasn't his obligation.

So, now I had to get a hold of Jeff. I sent him an e-mail message. I called his mobile phone. I called his office. He finally replied to a text message, saying that he was in a meeting and would call soon. When I spoke to him, he met my recounting of the story with shock and indignation equal to my own. He promised to contact the attorney and help me to clear up the situation as quickly as possible.

I called my realtor to update him on the situation and then called the attorney to tell her that she could expect Jeff's call, but she was already on the other line with him. When I went the next day to sign my half of the closing papers, the paralegal told me that they had received from Jeff everything that they needed to remedy the situation.

What a scare! Though it's cleared up now, I'm outraged that a lien could be placed on my property without my receiving any sort of notice. I plan to contact the state attorney general to file a complaint against the company that placed the lien, Unifund CCR Partners of Cincinnati, but I wonder what action could be taken beyond a black mark in some record somewhere, since I suffered no real damages other than an hour or two off of the end of my life and a scorch mark on the ceiling tile above my work cubicle. :J

Turning Blue

2007-05-14T13:22:00.001-04:00

To say that the past couple of weeks have been a flurry would be the metaphorical equivalent of saying that Katrina was a bad thunderstorm. (I don't mean to make light of the profound effect that the hurricane had on an untold number of lives, but rather to illustrate a question of degree in an apt and effective manner.) As I prepared to move house, guerrilla packing and schlepping gave way this past Wednesday to an all-out assault that lasted for four days.

I took off last Wednesday (9 May) to pack and prepare to move on Saturday (12 May). My friend, Leslie, had lent me her large pick-up truck and I thought that two days would be ample time to move the few belongings that I had left. As I buzzed about sorting, organizing, and packing, the folly of my accomplishing this feat in two days became desperately and excruciatingly obvious. I called my boss on Thursday morning and begged off for the rest of the week. During those four days, I cried; I clawed at my face; I wailed and gnashed my teeth; I kvetched to and sought sympathy from my neighbors, my family, Chris (who was just finishing up a stay in Manila), Leslie, even Jeff, and anyone else who'd listen. In-between my machinations, I managed to convey eight (8) truckloads of stuff to a storage unit (and filled it nearly to bursting) while five (5) truckloads found their way into Leslie's garage. Everyone has been very supportive and I am indebted to my friend, Ken, and my neighbor, John, for lending their time and labor and vehicles to my cause and to my friend, Leslie, for lending me her truck and giving me space to store my things as well as my dog and myself.

About 90% of the dirty work is now finished. I'm camping out at Leslie's place in Kernersville and I am relaxing a bit ahead of Wednesday's (16 May) closing. I worked calmly today, closing and transferring utilities and planning my budget. I picked up Chris at the airport this afternoon and spent a few hours with him and his family in Salisbury. Tomorrow, I'll be up and at 'em early to swing back by my house and collect my cat, Cilly, and take him to Lucky's Pet Resort and Day Spa for several days. I'll have a day of work at the office on Monday, a final day of work on the house on Tuesday, and closing on Wednesday. [fingers crossed]

I viewed several condos in Greensboro's Sunset Hills community and finally made an offer on one that had been totally renovated, including being kitted out this year with a new kitchen with a dishwasher [drool]. The seller and I reached an agreement, signed the contract, and now the mortgage documents are working their way through and an inspection is on the calendar. I expect to close on 30 May, but hope to begin moving in around 23 May.

Things are moving along at a quick, but smooth pace. Meanwhile, I'm turning blue from holding my breath, hoping that things remain smooth. :J

Roller Coaster Week

2007-04-24T21:00:00.000-04:00

The past week or so has been quite a roller coaster, chocked full of events.

Last Monday, I viewed a condominium that interested me in the Whilden Place community in Greensboro. It looked better on paper than in person, but its two bedrooms and attic enticed me with the thoughts of separate sleeping and studying areas and plenty of storage for all of my possessions. Later, I spent a pleasant evening with my neighbors on their front porch, enjoying conversation and camaraderie, not to mention a couple of beers and one of the cigars that I brought from Manila. I went home that evening in my altered state and laid down in the grass in my back yard at nearly midnight. Pepper ran over and licked my face. I looked up at the stars, which were finally visible after several cloudy days. I lifted my head and looked at the soft light filtering through the windows of my den and the ceiling fan turning slowly inside. Did I really want to leave this place, my home? Did I really want to move away from these people? Would it really be that impractical to find a roommate and continue commuting to Greensboro after beginning law school?

My house officially went on the market on Tuesday. I stayed at home on Tuesday and Wednesday to make the house ready for showings and engaged in a flurry of cleaning and repair projects, the most significant of which was painting the entire floor of my front porch. Pouring all of this energy into my house kept stirred-up my sentimentality for the place. As luck would (or wouldn't) have it, I'd taken my car to the dealership for routine service and received some shocking news at mid-morning -- in addition to the $550 or so just for the service interval, they'd found other problems (including the rear brakes) and the bill would be closer to $1,000! Yes, again. Yes, within a month of my last $1,000 repair bill. I took this as a sign and resumed making my house ready for the market with fresh vigor. On Wednesday, my handy-womon came over and worked for a few hours on miscellaneous projects and I met friends Travis and Tony for dinner at California Fresh Buffet, which is closing at the end of this month. (It's fitting that one of my favorite restaurants should close as I'm moving.) A handful of viewers and curious neighbors came through the house and I had pleasant conversations with each of them.

I did a few law-school-related things on Thursday, including attending a talk on copyright issues at work and the Thursday afternoon tea at Elon Law. Each Thursday, Elon Law hosts a social hour with a local judge as the guest of honor. That Thursday's judge was Katherine Eagles. Her husband, Bill Eagles, taught the civil liberties course that I audited this semester. He's enough of a character that I was interested to meet his wife and take advantage of the opportunity to schmooze with members of the Elon Law community, as it was becoming more apparent that I'd end up there. I did enjoy speaking to the Eagles, as well as several Elon Law faculty and students and members of the Greensboro legal community.

On Friday, Pepper and I hit the road for Beaufort SC (pronounced BYEW-fert, as opposed to Beaufort NC, pronounced BOW-fert) to visit Mum, who is living there part-time in her retirement. I stopped en route in Rockingham and had lunch with Mamaw and Papaw. I stopped by the Filipino grocery store before leaving Winston-Salem and surprised Mum and Mamaw with some ube (purple sweet potato) ice cream. I had a fine time in Beaufort and enjoyed the beautiful architecture, natural scenery, and seafood (soft-shell crabs -- yum!), though Mum embarrassed me at dinner one night by flirting a bit too strongly with our waiter, whom we later found out was all of 26 years old. The long drive down and back went by quickly thanks to being broken up with meal stops in Rockingham and stretch/fuel/pee breaks in Santee and Latta.

While I was in Beaufort, my Realtor called to report that he had received two written offers for my house! We agreed that, in the interest of fairness, we'd apprise the bidders of the situation and ask them to submit follow-up bids. We also came up with a plan to make an offer on the Whilden Place condo that I had viewed. He called back to report good and bad news -- both bidders had come back with slightly higher offers, but the Whilden Place condo had just gone under contract. I made a plan to view some other condos in the Sunset Hills community in Greensboro and reviewed the revised purchase offers. I accepted the offer from Norma, a neighbor who walks her dog past my house nearly every day and collects litter as she goes. I had shown her the house initially and she had returned with her Realtor. I just had a good feeling about Norma. My neighbors, who also know Norma, greeted me with elation when I returned home from signing the offer.

Also while I was in Beaufort, mail arrived from the law schools at UNC Chapel Hill and NCCU. NCCU admitted me, but UNC Chapel Hill put me on a waiting list. Besides my feeling that I had waited long enough for a decision from UNC Chapel Hill (4.5 months), they wrote that they might not reach a final decision until 24 August, almost two weeks after classes will have already begun at Elon Law. So, that was it. Decision made. Elon it is. The folks at Elon were courteous enough to give me a decision quickly (about six weeks), offered me a partial scholarship, have shown unwavering eagerness to have me join their community, and have been generally very on-the-ball with everything.

So, that's it! I've made my final decision about where to attend law school and after six days on the market, my house is under contract! Chris pointed out that the short time on the market and smooth negotiations were a further sign that selling my home is the right thing to do. Closing is set for 16 May and I have a lot of work ahead of me, both packing and finishing up projects with the house, so I'm gonna end this blog entry and get to it! :J

Law School News

2007-04-04T20:00:00.000-04:00

On Thursday of last week (29 March), I arrived home to find in the mail a thin envelope from the law school at Wake Forest University. My heart sank before I even opened it, but I did open it and read the letter that said what I'd guessed that it said. The law school here in the town where I live did not choose to offer me a spot in this fall's entering class. That means that I'll need to sell my house and move to wherever I do end up going to school.

WFU's decision did surprise and disappoint me, but I'm certainly not without options. Elon's new law school is already making a name for itself with its robust program and is forging strong and close ties with the Greensboro legal community. Campbell is well-known in North Carolina for its comprehensive lawyering skills and trial advocacy preparation, as well as its graduates' high passage rates on the bar exam.

Though I've not yet heard from the law schools at UNC Chapel Hill or NCCU, things do seem to be gelling around Elon for me. Just days after I received WFU's rejection, Elon notified me that they'd increased the amount of my scholarship. I also have a lead on a new condominium building in Greensboro that I could afford while in school and that would be an easy drive to Elon's law school in downtown. It doesn't hurt that Chris just bought a unit in that very building!

Another interesting turn of events happened today. Two work colleagues approached my desk with a man that I didn't recognize. He introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Mitchell Counts, Elon's law librarian." Wow! My colleague, Kathy, knew that I'd applied to Elon Law and wanted for me to meet Mitchell while he was visiting our library. Mitchell mentioned that he's on the admissions committee and had probably seen my application. I explained that I was the one that used the tasteless Mary Jo Kopechne and Ted Kennedy metaphor in my personal statement, to which he replied, "Oh, yes! I remember!" And that was the point! My personal statement had stood out from the pack! And they STILL let me in! So, I feel better and better about Elon Law every day and part of me wonders if the decisions from UNC Chapel Hill and NCCU will even matter by the time that they arrive.

I'm sad about selling my house, but I do realize that it's something that I need to do. I think that the time and money spent commuting between Winston-Salem and Greensboro would be far better spent otherwise while I'm in law school. This house was my home with Jeff, but for almost a year, I've come to love it as my home and mine alone. If I were to stay in my house while in law school, I'd have to get a roommate and that would drastically alter the dynamics. I might not want to do it, but I think that it's just best to sell my house and move on. :J

Getting Popped for Pop-Up Adverts

2007-03-31T10:30:00.000-04:00

On 19 Oct 2004, Julie Amero was working as a substitute teacher at Kelly Middle School in Norwich CT. The regular classroom teacher had been there earlier that morning to log on to the computer for Julie, who didn't have her own account. Julie, a computer-phobe, scarcely needed the instructions that she was given to not log off of or shut down the computer; she didn't know how. Julie briefly left the room before class began; when she returned, the regular teacher was gone and the children were browsing the Web on the computer. Pop-up adverts featuring adult products had begun appearing. When Julie tried to close the pop-ups, more appeared. Julie did the only thing that she knew how to do to prevent the children from seeing the offensive adverts -- she turned the monitor aside and didn't allow the children to approach her desk and come within view of the computer.

Julie didn't know that adware had infected the computer days before she arrived on the job. Nor did she know that this had happened because the school had allowed its computer security contract to lapse over six months earlier and that the computer had not received an update of its security software in over three months. She DID know that she needed to get rid of the pop-up adverts, so she went for help during a break. No one would come back to the classroom with her to see about the problem and she was told to not worry about the situation. Nevertheless, Julie was worried.

Her concern was well-founded. Days later, she was arrested for child endangerment. Law enforcement examined the computer's hard drive and, predictably, found that the Web browser's history was full of URLs that led to pornographic and adult-oriented Web sites. The information that the prosecution presented did NOT reveal who was sitting in front of the computer when the Web sites were on-screen; browser histories do not log whether a user typed in a Web address or clicked a link to access a Web site or whether an automated script caused a Web page to appear on its own without any user intervention. Most incredibly, in its examination of the computer, the prosecution did not check whether the computer was infected with adware, the sort of software that would've caused unwanted pop-up adverts to appear. This is the technological equivalent of arresting someone who happened to be standing in the parking lot of a bank that had been robbed without examining the building for signs of forced entry or dusting for fingerprints!

Based partly on this evidence, Julie was convicted of four felony counts of risk of injury to a minor or impairing the morals of a child and faces sentencing on 26 April of up to forty (yes, 40, 4-0) years in prison.

I cannot find the words to describe this turn of events. Travesty, perversion of justice, sham, outrageous -- none of them seem to be the bon mot that captures the depth of outrage and disbelief that I feel. How could the prosecution have been so careless or so malicious? What were her defense attorneys thinking? How did the prosecution get away with what appears to be such a sloppy and incomplete investigation? I am reminded of Tom Robinson's trial in To Kill a Mockingbird and I have to wonder -- where is Julie's Atticus Finch? :J

References...

Windows Secrets, 22 Feb 2007 - This is where I first learned of this case; includes some discussion of the botched investigation.
Julie Amero in Wikipedia
The Julie Amero Defese Fund Blog

Teacher Faces Jail Over Pornography on Class Computer

The New York Times

Feb

Knoxed Out

2007-03-29T19:00:00.000-04:00

First, forgive the pun. More on that in a second.

Second, I received yesterday a letter from the College of Law at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville (UTK) in which they wrote that they were unable to offer to me a spot in this fall's entering class. Oh, well; c'est la vie.

UTK wasn't on my original short list of law schools, but they became a contender when I spoke with Karen Britton, the school's Director of Admissions, Financial Aid, and Career Services, at the law school expo at WFU back in November. My friend, Kim, did her PhD work in industrial psychology at UTK and was awarded a sweet assistantship during her time there that included a tuition waiver as well as a stipend, so I was interested to find out that the College of Law has a similar program. UTK's application fee is bargain-basement cheap (only $15!), so I figured that I had little to lose and much to gain.

When I opened my mailbox and found the very thin envelope, I did feel a bit of disappointment, but I'm far from crushed. If enrollment management at Tennessee's public universities works anything like it does at North Carolina's, then quotas mean that out-of-state students must have significantly better qualifications than in-state students for admission to the same programs. So, while my LSAT score was right around UTK's median, it's the average for all students and I suspect that the out-of-state median is quite a bit higher than the in-state median.

So, the title... yea. I wanted to come up with something fun based on the state song like I did when I received my decision letter from UVa. For that entry, I used the title of the former commonwealth song. Interestingly, Virginia currently has no official commonwealth song. By contrast, Tennessee has seven official state songs (appropriate since its capital is known as Music City), none of which lent themselves to a quick literary perversion. Zut alors ! :J

Our Rights

2007-03-14T20:00:00.000-04:00

Earlier today, I happened across an opinion piece on the Web site of The Huntsville Item newspaper in Huntsville TX entitled Our country gives us the right to voice our views. I did read the article and found interesting and appropriate its discussion of common misconceptions of how judges must interpret and apply the law. (Indeed, a rant-worthy topic, but for another time. Don't get me started on the politically-biased misnomer "activist judges".)

However, it's the title of the article, rather than its content, that inspired me to write about a topic that has been on my mind lately and about which my thoughts have become more focused with my decision to study law -- our rights. Principally, I take issue with the article's glib statement that our country (our government, by semantic extension) gives us any right. It does not. We, as sentient beings, are bestowed with rights and burdened with their accompanying responsibilities at birth.

Some of our greatest rights are the freedom to hold and express opinions and beliefs (be they religious, political, or what have you) and the right to associate (or not) with others. Responsibilities in light of these rights include informing ourselves about ourselves and about the world around us, as well as acting in a way that doesn't infringe upon the rights of others.

I don't intend this essay to be a comprehensive treatise on the nature of law, civil society, free will, or the responsibilities and limits of government. I just wanted to shed some light on a distinction that I find important but that seems to go unnoticed. If a government convinces the people that it bestows rights, then the people are liable to be duped into believing that the government can take those rights away. It can't.

Freedoms bestowed by a government are called privileges, not rights. The government that grants privileges can also revoke them. No government can grant rights, but every government must recognize our rights and protect them if it desires legitimacy and the support and protection of the people. :J

Carry Me Back to Old Virginny -- Not

2007-03-05T21:00:00.000-05:00

My letter from the law school at UVa did arrive today and it seems that I was not meant to be a Cavalier, as they wrote that they regrettably could not offer me a place in their Fall 2007 entering class.

And that's fine. I always knew that UVa was a far reach for me and figured that if any school rejected me, that'd be the one. Though the thought of attending one of the country's top ten law schools was an amazing prospect, I had begun to wonder during the past week whether UVa really would be the best place for me. The most obvious concern was the cost; my tuition as an out-of-commonwealth student would've been upwards of $35,000 per year, nearly twice the annual limit for federal student aid loans. A secondary consideration was the orientation of the curriculum at such an elite school. Would it be too theoretical for my tastes and needs? Would I be able to acquire the practical skills necessary to practice law? Of course, all of that is a moot point now.

So, one more piece of the puzzle is complete. Hopefully, letters from UNC Chapel Hill and Wake Forest U will arrive in my mail box shortly and I will have occasion to shout "Yahoo!" instead of "Wahoo!" :J

The Reality Check is in the Mail

2007-03-02T23:35:00.000-05:00

A couple of months ago, after sending my application to the University of Virginia School of Law, I received an e-mail with information on how to log in to their AdmitWeb system to check the status of my application, which I did occasionally at first and more frequently of late. AdmitWeb faithfully reported as my documents and credentials arrived. For the last several weeks, I've glared at the last line as it mutely reported Decision Mailed: Not Yet.

This evening, I received an e-mail message reporting that the status of my application had changed. I let out a little gasp and virtually rushed on over, logged in, and fumbled a bit as I spun the mouse wheel and read the following.

As of 3/2/07, a decision has been made on your application for admission to the University of Virginia School of Law. To protect the confidentiality of your decision, we will not release decision information over the phone. If you have not received your decision within 10 days of this date, please feel free to call the Admissions Office so that we can verify your contact information. If this does not represent a final decision on your application for admission, you will be notified when further decisions are posted on the status monitor later this season.

The decision is on its way. It might just be a notice that I've been put on a waiting list, but it could very well be a no. Or a yes. Who knows? :J

Love is ...

2007-02-19T20:00:00.000-05:00

My boyfriend, Chris, and I were talking recently about the pleasantries that people exchange when they part company. He expressed some discomfort that one person of our mutual acquaintance has taken to saying, "I love you" in such circumstances, though he had know this person for a relatively short amount of time and had spent little if any time with her one-on-one. It's important to note that there is no romantic interest between Chris and this person and other factors make the unlikelihood that they would be come so involved stratospheric.

I've found myself in similar circumstances. Friends whom I've known for a long time and whose company I greatly enjoy, even my stylist (who has become a personal friend), have taken up the habit of attaching an "I love you" to "goodbye". Hearing this proclamation from someone who isn't my inamorata or a member of my immediate family leaves me perplexed, at a loss for words, and unsure about how to respond. Should I just say "I love you" back to placate the person, though I'd feel dishonest? But, I might not love them; at least not in the way that I mean "I love you" when I say it to someone. Should I respond with a sincere, but maybe underwhelming, "Aww! Thank you!", that might hurt their feelings or offend them?

When friends tell me that they love me in the disarming way that I describe above, I believe that they mean that they are fond of me, that they enjoy my company, that they want for me to go on my way safely, and that they are generally concerned for my welfare. By contrast, when I say "I love you" to someone, I mean that they are an important and likely permanent part of my life; that I enjoy their company and palpably feel their absence when we're apart; that I'm concerned about their state of mind, body, and spirit to the point of empathy -- when they are sad, I'm sad, too, not for whatever reason has caused their sadness, but because their sadness itself makes me sad; likewise, I actively delight in their happiness. Furthermore, as Chris pointed out, "[love is not circumstantial]." His point was that events such as a garden-variety disagreement or even divorce don't stop genuine love. When he was married, his in-laws regularly proclaimed that they loved him, but after he divorced, their contempt for him was evident. "[I wouldn't say that they ever really loved me, at least not in the way that I mean it when I say it.]"

I have consciously avoided using the word "gratuitous" in describing the way that some friends use the phrase "I love you". Something so precious, healing, and uplifting could never be applied gratuitously or too liberally. I think that Chris and I just share an opinion of what it means to tell someone that you love them and it is a deep and profound meaning, indeed. :J

Campbell = Yes

2007-02-10T22:15:00.000-05:00

I received today a letter from the Campbell Law admissions office extending to me an offer of admission for the Fall 2007 entering class! Yay!

Campbell Law is located in Buies Creek NC, 30 miles equidistant from Raleigh and Fayetteville. Their focus is educating lawyers for hometown practice in NC and they do their job very well -- their bar exam pass rate is regularly at the top of the scale, around 97% and 100% in some years. Campbell University is affiliated with the NC Southern Baptist State Convention; they established the Norman Adrian Wiggins School of Law in 1975. Their Alumni include Elaine Marshall, NC Secretary of State; Ann Marie Calabria, NC Court of Appeals; a friend of mine from undergrad; and the attorney that has handled personal litigation for my family.

I applied to Campbell Law on a lark because I had a fee waiver and Mamaw had pestered me to do so. What had I to lose? Very little. Shortly after I'd applied, I had a pleasant phone interview with James McLaughlin (professor of estate law) that went very well and, what do you know, I'm in! I'm pleased by this because, once again, it's affirming, but also because I now have options. Campbell's mission is in line with my goals, since I plan to remain and practice in North Carolina, and their high bar exam passage rate is certainly a point to their credit.

So, I'm two for two at this point with five schools yet to weigh in. Surely, word of my popularity will now spread and the other law schools will now be clamoring to my mailbox! :J

Life Update

2007-02-07T20:00:00.000-05:00

Since completing my law school applications, I've spent a good bit of the past month gloriously vegetating at the computer, playing spider solitaire. (With four suits, nonetheless!) I figure that I deserve the break.

It's not all been fun and games, though. With applications out of the way, other projects have risen to the surface of the priority pool, but working on them has been a boon rather than something to bemoan. As I've made headway on projects at work and at home, my attitude and my outlook have improved. I had been quite frustrated at my slow progress in painting the trim in the master bedroom, so I finally inflicted the task on my handywomon for a few days. Thusly jump-started, I was able to tackle the rest of the project myself and have been gleefully taking down the blue tape that has lined the windows and doors for nearly six months. More home improvement projects await, of course, along with tax forms and law school financial aid applications. I'm also sitting-in on a civil liberties class, have visited a few law schools (UNC Chapel Hill, Wake Forest, and Elon), and have been helping out someone who's recovering from surgery.

Mum and Mamaw visited a few days ago. Mum proudly showed off her new car and I got to drive it around a bit as we had lunch and shopped. Mamaw bought me a vacuum cleaner as an early birthday gift and my rugs have been singing her praises ever since.

So, I've saved the best bit for last. I received a large envelope from Elon Law a couple of weeks ago. I opened it with great anticipation and found inside a pack of forms with a cover letter congratulating me on my admission! Yay! While also validating, it means that I do have a choice of what path my life will take later this year and well beyond. :J

Law School Applications

2007-01-10T23:00:00.000-05:00

It's done.

As best as I can tell, I've submitted all of the law school applications that I'm going to. I applied to most of the law schools in North Carolina, including Wake Forest U, UNC Chapel Hill, NC Central U, Elon U, and Campbell U. I did not apply to Duke U or to Charlotte School of Law. I applied to two out-of-state schools, UVa and UT Knoxville. It's quite an assortment, but most guides advise prospective law students to apply to a range of schools that includes "reaches" and "safeties". I won't get into detail at this point about my reasons for choosing these schools, except to say that I had application fee waivers for UVa and Campbell U. I seriously considered applying to Hofstra U, Notre Dame U, and U of South Carolina, but I decided against them for various reasons and I doubt that there will be any last-minute reconsiderations.

There are a couple of niggling things that I need to mail and a few questions on which I need to follow up, but the personal statements are written, the forms are complete, and the application fees are paid. Let me tell you, this business of applying to law schools is expensive! I've shelled out about $960 for application fees, an LSAT preparatory class and materials, the LSAT, the LSDAS (a centralized credentialing service), and LSAC credential reports to schools. The just over $300 that I paid for the LSAT preparatory class alone represents a staff discount that I received for taking the course at the university where I work. That was the cheapie Cambridge course, too, not the expensive Kaplan course, which costs well over $1,000 on its own!

Now, it's time to wait. I expect to begin receiving decisions in March. I don't know what the next several months will bring me. Will I have to sell my house? Will I have to get a roommate? Will I have to move to another town or another state? Big questions, to be sure. For now, I'm going to get back to working on my house, put a bit of my energy back into my personal relationships and my work, and do a bit of reading to get a leg up on law school.

I've bought the ticket. Now, I'm just waiting for the train to arrive! :J

Curry, 1995-2006

2006-12-11T11:30:00.000-05:00

Curry Ervin-Smith, 11-1/2 years of age, passed away at his home on Monday, 11 December 2006 after a brief illness.

Born 21 May 1995 on S Tate St in Greensboro NC, Curry and his litter-mate brother, Cilantro ("Cilly"), were adopted by Justin Ervin ("Daddy") and Jeff Smith ("Poppy") in July 1995 and lived within a mile of their birthplace until the family moved to Winston-Salem in 2003.

Curry's friends and family knew him by his given name as well as by various nicknames that described his physical features and personality traits, "Feu", "Fuego", "Curry Monster", "Little Puss", "Fangs", and "Sweet Boy". The more retiring of the two brothers, Curry preferred the solitude of an empty dining room chair slid under the table or a corner behind a rocker. His last days were spent relaxing in his beloved laundry basket by a window with a view of a bird feeder.

Curry is survived by his adoptive fathers, Justin Ervin of the home and Jeff Smith of Richmond VA; his feline brother, Cilly; his canine sister, Pepper, who joined the family in 2002; and a host of relatives and friends.

Memorial contributions may be made to the Forsyth Humane Society or a companion animal rescue organization of your choice.

Curry in April 2004

Mobile Phone Service Survey

2006-12-07T13:41:00.000-05:00

I'm thinking about dumping my current mobile phone service provider, Cingular, because I have piss-poor coverage in my house. I want to keep my GSM handset, so I believe that I'm limited to moving to SunCom or T-Mobile. I'd be interested in hearing both happy and horror stories from anyone who uses them, especially in the Southeast.

Do you find that you have good coverage in your metro area? Do you have many dropped calls?
How much do you pay and what does your plan include in the way of minutes, text messages, e-mail, and Web browsing?
When you've had to contact customer service via e-mail or telephone, have you had reasonably good experiences?
Do you find online account management tools comprehensive and easy-to-use?

Feel free to leave your responses as comments here. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!

Thanksgiving

2006-11-22T20:00:00.000-05:00

Before I get started with the list of things for which I'm thankful, let me direct your attention to an opinion piece on usatoday.com which is probably the most cogent, well-thought-out, and succinct piece on the use of scripture as a gay-bashing weapon, Buzz Thomas' When Religion Loses Its Credibility. Brilliant, that!

So, as we Yanks catch up on the calendar with our Kanuk brethren north of the border and finally celebrate Thanksgiving, I'll take a traditional pause to acknowledge and give thanks for my blessings. This year has been quite a trial, but it has brought me things for which I'm grateful.

My health. I have lost about forty pounds (18 kgs, almost 3 stone) this year. Away with that weight went nerve tingling in my hands and arms, terribly painful GERD attacks, high blood pressure, elevated blood glucose levels, and fatigue. My mental health has had its ups and downs, but might be improving, too. Through most of this year, I've been troubled by events and situations at work. This past week, a few rays of sunshine began peeking tentatively through the clouds of depression. I'm not sure that anything has changed other than my attitude, but I'm grateful because I feel a bit better about my work situation. If I do leave my job to attend law school next fall, I'd like to leave on a positive note that's congruent with the twelve good years that I've had with the same employer and I'd like to restore some of my battered confidence, all of which I'll need for school.

My family. I've always been close to my Mum, Mamaw, and Papaw, the maternal side of my family. Recently, I've grown closer to Pops and his side of my family. This year, I said goodbye for the final time to Granny, my paternal grandmother. I witnessed quite closely her decline of health and the last weeks of her demise. During that time, I saw everyone pull together to comfort her and one another. Experiencing both the loss of a loved one and the love flowing between us has made me very glad that I've reconnected with my paternals and quite thankful for them as a unit and individually.

My home. A long-time friend and his partner recently took in an acquaintance from church who was in need of a place to stay after he wore out his welcome with another family. I'm so glad that I have a place to go every evening to feel secure and to welcome family and friends so that I needn't depend on the charity of others for shelter. Along with my home, I'm thankful for my job, my car, and my animals, which make my home life possible and richer.

My friends. I think that I'd have my choice of friends with whom I could stay if I were in need of shelter. From giving me cast-off furniture, to looking after my animals for an extended period, to treating me to the occasional lunch or dinner, to just having me over for drinks, I have so enjoyed spending time with my many friends. I hope that I have returned their kindness in some small measure or at least passed it on.

Jeff. This year began with the immediate aftermath of the end of nearly eleven years with Jeff. Divorce is never easy. I witnessed my own parents' divorce and related proceedings drag on for seventeen years. However, if I had to do it all over again, there's little that I would want different about the way that Jeff and I split up. He remained supportive and as sympathetic and understanding as he could be given his immediate role in the situation. I would certainly not trade our time together for not having to go through our separation, for there was much love there and it made me much of who I am today.

Chris. In the midst of my separation from Jeff, a near stranger from my past walked back into my life. Chris is warm, gentle, and smart and has given me so much love and support, not to mention the opportunity for a long, exciting trip to a fairly exotic foreign country. I like to think that, in return, I've given him a bit more than a few small gifts and soggy shoulders.

This list looked quite familiar as I looked back over it. I realized that these are the same things for which I express appreciation to God when I pray each night, though they're in roughly the opposite order when I pray, because what's the use in building suspense for a dramatic close when you're talking to God? Nevertheless, let's certainly take the day that's set aside for such purposes and be thankful for what we have, but let's also set aside just a minute for daily reflection on our blessings. :J

Glorious Republic of Justin, Ministry of Information, Report of Week

2006-11-05T10:00:00.000-05:00

I ought to be listing stuff on E-Bay for the upcoming shopping, er, holiday season and I am, indeed, relisting some things that didn't sell previously. But, I'm feeling uninspired. The fact is that I'm distracted; a friend pointed me to a shopping site called Bim Bam Banana where I found some quite unique gift ideas like this puzzle alarm clock or this lung-shaped ash tray. Please do not take this as a subtle hint to buy either one of these items for me, lest you find it regifted to you on the next convenient occasion!

I received in the mail several days ago a voucher for two free tickets to the new Grand Theatre here in Winston-Salem, which is located in a converted Super K-Mart on University Parkway. Unfortunately, it was set to expire on the day that Chris returns from Manila, so I chatted up my friend, PJ, who recently moved back to North Carolina from California. We hadn't yet had a chance to spend any time together, so we arranged to see Borat. Oh my stars! When, not if, you see this picture, do yourself a favor and wear a diaper, because you will likely piss yourself; it's that funny. The main character, Borat, has come to the United States to film a documentary so that the Kazakh people and government could learn from our culture. At first based in New York, they begin a cross-country trek, driven by Borat's newly-found obsession with Pamela Anderson. Along the way, he and his producer try to learn American social customs and humor with poor results. They find themselves in numerous awkward situations that are hilarious and painful to watch. PJ actually had to leave the auditorium in search of cookie dough bits with which to comfort himself as Borat prepared to sing the national anthem at a rodeo in Salem VA.

After the movie, I drove over to the home of Jeff (Chris' cousin) and Dan, who were having a belated Hallowe'en party. (I suspect as much to alleviate crowding on the calendar last weekend as to take advantage of 75% off Hallowe'en regalia -- men after my own heart!) Not being one to dress in costume, I had originally planned to not attend, but I decided to at least drop by and say hello as long as I was out, since they were nice enough to invite me. I'm so glad that I did go to the party! Jeff and Dan are welcoming and gracious hosts and make friends very easily. I caught up with friends that I'd made at their August luau as well as made some new friends.

Later today, I'm heading over to Mocksville for lunch with Pops and Jeannie, then to visit my great aunt Bert, Granny's only surviving sibling, who's had a fall since Granny's funeral and is recuperating at home. After that, it's church this evening and back to the grind tomorrow. Mmmm... grind... grounds... coffee... mmm. :J

Law School Expo

2006-11-02T16:44:00.001-05:00

I got in my car just before lunch-time today to drive up to Wake Forest University and attend a graduate and professional school expo to which several law schools had sent admissions representatives. When I got into my car, I discovered a nasty surprise.

My windshield was cracked!

Yes, again.

Yes, the new windshield that I just installed two months ago!

Grrr. Well, at least this crack is on the passenger side and not immediately in my field of vision as the other crack was.

So, I drove up to Wake Forest and parked in an area on the grass just west of the quad that they often use for over-flow parking. I made my way into the Benson center and registered. I dunno whether it says more about folks graduating from Wake Forest or about current trends in graduate schools, but about 95% of the 75 or so schools there were law schools. Several others were MBA programs (including UNCG).

The first person with whom I spoke was Karen Britton, the representative from the University of Tennessee at Knoxville (UTK). I asked her many questions about the school and city and found her answers very helpful, both in particular about her own institution and about the law school admissions process in general. UTK didn't immediately pop into my head when I originally thought of where I might like to attend law school, but the low application fee attracted my attention and when I looked more closely, I found that I might be a strong candidate. Karen mentioned that many of their students work as summer associates at firms in Nashville, which is also the largest market for their graduates, something that weighs in UTK's favor with me.

Diane Finger of Wake Forest U was interested to hear about what had led me to consider a career in the law and told me about an upcoming admissions information session. Megan Jordan of Elon U answered yet more questions about accreditation from me and explained why their brand-new law school is well-positioned to earn ABA accreditation. Melissa Fruscione, whose e-mail message tipped me off to this event, spoke of how much Notre Dame U has to offer as an institution and a community. Cristi Head of Virginia (UVa) was rather encouraging and gave me an application fee waiver (worth $70) when I voiced my reluctance to even apply in light of my numbers and UVa's reputation (a top 10 law school).

I also spoke to Anne Richards of George Washington University and, finally, Mweni Ekpo of UNC Chapel Hill. (Mweni was constantly surrounded by a crowd and I wanted to make better use of my time than waiting.) I picked up a brochure from U South Carolina and signed their mailing list, but there was no one at their table at that moment. Everyone to whom I spoke answered my questions sincerely and candidly and took their time; I never felt rushed, even when I pounced on Mweni just as the expo was wrapping up.

I saw representatives from Columbia U, Vanderbilt U, Stanford U -- big names among law schools. There were folks from Charlotte and Charleston, two new private, for-profit law schools that are opening in those cities. There was even a representative from Chapman U, a medium-sized, private university in Orange County, California, that my friend, PJ, had tried to sell to me! NC Central U was conspicuously absent. I was disappointed to see that there was no representative from Samford U and WVU, two schools that are on the outer ranges of my radar, but about which I'm interested to see more information.

Going into the expo, I felt that I had little chance of receiving a fat envelope from Georgetown, UVa, or Vanderbilt but I felt relatively safe in applying to UNC Chapel Hill and WFU. Much of what I heard confirmed some of my suppositions, but I now fear that UNC Chapel Hill and WFU are "reaches" for me, too. I must admit that this is a little disappointing. I had hoped to receive a bit of encouragement, but that was as much as I received -- a little. Many to whom I spoke agreed that much would depend on my personal statement and other materials with which I supplemented my application.

Application fees are expensive (as much as $75 for the schools on my long list), so I'll shorten my list quickly and won't go out on many limbs. I will apply to UNC Chapel Hill, WFU, and Elon because those are my top picks. I'll apply to NC Central U and UTK because I think that I'd be a strong candidate. I'll apply to UVa because I have a fee waiver. Then, I'll wait patiently by my in-box to see what avenues open themselves to me. :J

Today's Linguistics Lesson: The Philippines

2006-10-30T19:52:00.000-05:00

In a recent e-mail conversation about my trip to the Philippines, a friend made a perfectly innocent remark related to linguistics. Any of you that knows me well can imagine that I couldn't NOT respond in detail to his wondering "aloud".

Barry wrote:
I wonder why it is that Philippines is spelled with a "Ph" and double "pp", but Filipino is spelled with an "F" and a single "p".

I replied:
Philippines (noun form) and philippine (adjective form) look very Anglo to me, while Filipino (masculine adjective) and Filipina (feminine adjective) are clearly Hispanic. In the local Tagalog language, the name of the country is Pilipinas. It's interesting to note how they mix the languages. Spanish had an obvious influence on the language during the ~400 years that the archipelago was a Spanish colony. Common words borrowed from Spanish include "sapatos" from Spanish "zapatos" ("shoes"), "mesa" ("table"), "pero" ("but"), "gwapo" from Spanish "guapo" ("pretty/handsome"), and "kumusta" from Spanish "como está" ("hello" or "how are you"). Code-switching (speaking part of a sentence in one language and part in another) into English is rampant in everyday conversations on the streets of Manila. Tagalog and English often combine more closely still to produce what the locals call Taglish. Tagalog is a Melanesian language (closely related to Malay, Bhasa Indonesia, and Chamorro; less so to Samoan and Hawai'ian; and distantly to Malagasy) and, absent loan words and code-switching, sounds very foreign to me, indeed.

The hybridization of the Philippines' linguistic culture is most obvious in what they call their money. The Tagalog word for their basic monetary unit is "Piso", which divides into 100 "Sentimo". The "English" words for these units are "Peso" and "Centavo", respectively, which are direct borrowings from Spanish. BTW, "Sentimo" looks very much to me like the old French monetary sub-unit, the Centime, 100 of which made 1 Franc.

It's worth noting further that Tagalog is one of about a dozen major languages (of a few hundred in total) spoken in the Philippines. The standardized, national, written language, which is based on Tagalog, is called Filipino. The National Language Institute gave it this name in 1987; before that time, the written language was called Pilipino from 1961 and Tagalog before that. The 1961 name change was owing to continued development of a national language that borrows from a number of indigenous languages.

I heard less Taglish and code-switching in Legaspi City. For example, when Edith, our tour guide, spoke to Joe Joe, our driver, she never said "yes" or "no", she always used the Tagalog or Bikol "oo" and "hindi". By comparison, I never heard "oo" and "hindi" in Manila.

Chris noted the absence of the F and V sounds (voiceless and voiced labio-dental fricatives, respectively, to us linguists) from Filipinos' everyday speech. They use, instead, the P and B sounds (voiceless and voiced bilabial plosives, respectively). Good examples of this phonetic adaptation include two common loan words from English, the Tagalog words "trapik" and "drayber" which correspond respectively to the English words "traffic" and "driver".

And, yes, there are loan words of Filipino origin in English: boondocks, yo-yo, and amok to name a few.

Wikipedia has several articles on which I based much of this entry and that would make good further reading.

Enjoy! :J

Manila Trip - Part 7

2006-10-24T19:00:00.000-04:00

Another early morning caught us unawares as Chris' fancy new phone cock-a-doodle-dooed us awake at 5 AM so that we could get to the airport for our 7.30 AM flight. Last night, I heard Jun tell Pacholo at Club Mwah that we had to leave early to catch a plane to "El [unintelligible]" and Chris had told me that this was to be a charter flight, so I had a few clues about our destination, but it really was still anyone's guess as to where we were going.

Even this early on a Saturday morning, there was some traffic, but we made our way to the airport quickly enough and found the Island Transvoyager office and checked in. A small-ish plane with two propellers sat on the tarmac beyond a leafy patio. Going through security screening, checking my bag, and receiving a boarding pass seemed a bit ridiculous, since I felt like I was preparing to board a flying taxi cab. (Did you know that "taxi cab" is short for "taximeter cabriolet"?) We waited in the lounge and enjoyed an iced tea (Nestea, which I now crave.) until a staffer came on the PA to announce that boarding was imminent, so we should take advantage of the restrooms on the ground since there's no lavatory on the plane. I began to regret my iced tea. A smartly-dressed womon walked out of a nearby office and conducted the standard safety information routine right there in the lounge. She mentioned that the cabin of the plane isn't pressurized. What had Chris gotten us into? At the boarding announcement, we headed out of the lounge and walked the twenty feet to the plane, stepped on the door, and entered. I sat. I buckled myself in. I tightened the belt. We took off. As it turned out, the ride was quite smooth and comfortable. We flew fairly low, but that just let me take in a bit of scenery and shoot some photos from the plane. About 90 minutes later, we landed at El Nido airport (ENI) on northern Palawan where we were greeted by musicians. We were shown to the arrivals lounge, where we enjoyed refreshments and browsed in the gift shop before boarding a Jeepney that took us to the dock. We transferred to an out-rigger boat and rode for another hour... to paradise.

Absolute paradise. We glided over topaz-blue water past giant limestone boulders serving as islands that were lushly covered with greenery. Great clouds piled up in the sky trying to mimic and out-do the limestone islands. A string of cottages came into view and we had arrived at our destination, El Nido Resorts' Lagen Island. The resort was a cluster of cottages lined up along the edges of a lagoon and nestled in a tropical forest, centered around a large clubhouse, pool, and restaurant. Sheer limestone cliffs hundreds of feet tall provided a dramatic backdrop to this fantastic scene. I was at a loss for words. How had Chris found this place? How had he managed to arrange such an elaborate get-away? What had I done to deserve such an unimaginable voyage?

Staff helped us off of the boat at the docks and led us to the clubhouse where more musicians greeted us and a staffer oriented us to the resort and its facilities. The resort generates its own electricity and processes its own sewage. Bacuit Bay, in which the resort is located, is a protected natural area. They asked us to please use the biodegradable soaps and shampoos that they provided, instead of our own, to minimize the introduction of foreign chemicals into the waters. Rubbish is shipped back to Manila for recycling or disposal. All activities (snorkeling, boat transportation to local sights, kayaking, hiking, banana leaf hat-making, tours, an intro SCUBA dive) and all food (three gourmet meals per day) were included. I couldn't decide if I was dreaming of myself in an episode of Fantasy Island or Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous!

We kayaked through Big and Small Lagoons of Miniloc Island, explored caves, had a picnic lunch on a semi-private beach, swam in waters hotter than a Jacuzzi tub, marveled at exotic sea shells and aquatic life, enjoyed a sunset cruise on the bay, took underwater photos and fed fish while snorkeling, and ate like kings. I had an introductory SCUBA dive near the resort dock while Chris snorkeled above me. Others explored the dozens of dive sites around Bacuit Bay, went deep-sea fishing, hiked a nature trail to one of the island hilltops, and went bird-watching in a mangrove. The staff were invariably friendly, knowledgeable, helpful, and efficient; one activities coordinator could ask us once what we wanted to do each day and it immediately seemed as though even the landscaping crew knew what we were doing when. There was no schedule except our own; the staff were ready to accommodate us whenever we felt like undertaking a new adventure. We quickly became acquainted with some of the other guests: couples from South Africa and Geneva as well as some young, American ex-pats working in Manila). Every meal included sushi and smoked fish; rice; fresh fruit juices; and an array of foods from Asia (sushi, bok choy, kimchee), Europe (pastas), the Philippines (garlic rice), and North America (fried chicken, Cocoa Puffs). Did I mention the desserts? These people know what to do with chocolate! There was a dense chocolate torte one night and a memorable flourless chocolate cake the next, besides heavenly cookies. Yum! I cannot say enough good about El Nido Resorts. If you can find the time and money to go there for a week or more, it's well worth the effort that it takes to get there!

Our stay at the resort turned out to be a fitting final flourish to the trip of a lifetime. But, a final flourish it was. We returned to Manila on Monday evening. Chris went back to work on Tuesday and I spent most of the day putting photos on Flickr and packing. I'd intended to go to the mall for a manicure and to buy some final souvenirs, but a torrential rain kept me inside all day. I nervously watched the television news talk about terrorist bombings that had taken place over the weekend on Mindanao and follow up by reporting that Manila was under a red terrorist alert; police had information that terrorists were in Manila and preparing to carry out an attack in the capital. Yay. At about 7 PM, Chris returned and delivered me to the airport for my 10.30 PM flight. I said the sad, but inevitable goodbye and walked inside the terminal. As a guard was wanding a hand-held metal detector over me, I turned and saw the van pull away in the dark and rain from nearly the exact spot where it had warmly greeted me on a bright, early morning nearly two weeks before.

I checked in for my flight, paid the P550 (US$11) terminal fee, and completed an immigration departure form. Rather than read my passport and type the information into a computer as the arrivals officer had done, the departures officer placed my passport face-down on a small flat-bed scanner and pressed a key; a light flashed and that was it. Due to the red terrorist alert, I had to go through multiple screenings to enter the terminal, move between the check-in and gate areas, sit down at the gate, and board the plane. My bag was x-rayed twice and searched twice. I removed my shoes and emptied the contents of my pockets twice. Three small tubes of toothpaste were removed from my bag, including one from a sealed container emblazoned "Philippine Airlines". I wasn't complaining. I bought a few more postcards and gazed longingly at the offerings of Goldilocks bakery before boarding the plane. The trip back east seemed quite short compared to the westward flight. Once again, PAL took good care of us, feeding us four times, showing us three movies, and providing us with little extras to keep us comfortable. I slept for most of the flight across the Pacific Ocean. I cleared US Customs without a fuss, had a bite to eat in the airport, and slept again for much of my flight across the US. Upon arriving in Charlotte, I found my car in good condition, got a bit lost leaving the airport, but found I-85 quickly enough. I stopped in China Grove to deliver to Chris' sister some gifts that he'd sent back early for her children, then made my way home, where I was greeted by three ecstatic animals and the scent of cat urine. Ah, home again! :J

Manila Trip - Intermission

2006-10-23T06:02:00.000-04:00

Chris put up some pics on Flickr that he took of our our various excursions during my visit... to Tagaytay/Taal, Legaspi City/Mayon, and El Nido (including my first SCUBA dive). He also has many snaps of his first visit to Palawan when he stayed in Puerto Princesa and visited the Underground River and other sights around Manila.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/chris0871/

I also found a group on Flickr called Only in the Philippines with interesting shots from around the country.

Have a look and enjoy! :J

Manila Trip - Part 6

2006-10-22T16:42:00.000-04:00

There was little rest for the weary after our return to Manila from Legaspi City -- we had another flight to catch early the next morning to our next destination, which was still a secret to me.

Fortunately, there was some rest. Chris and I decided to visit The Spa, an establishment across the street from his hotel in Podium mall. As soon as we walked in, our sinuses were opened by the aroma of eucalyptus oil warming by the door. We approached reception and selected our services from the menu -- a manicure for Chris and a pedicure for me. I'd had my first pedicure ever at a resort near DC while attending a friend's wedding at Memorial Day of this year and quite enjoyed the experience as well as the results. The staff led us into a quiet room with terry-cloth upholstered, over-stuffed recliners and offered us cups of ginger tea -- an elixir! An hour later, we were filed, clipped, and polished and only P650 (US$13) poorer for the experience! By the way, Chris' Filipino friends think that this is an exorbitant amount to pay for a manicure and pedicure; they claim that P200 (US$4) is more on-target!

After our spa treatment, we headed down a couple of levels to Banana Leaf Asian Cafe, a cool pan-Asian restaurant with an impressive menu and very tasty food! The menu featured lots of curry, seafood, and fried rices from Hainan, Malaysia, Korea, and other cultures in eastern and south-eastern Asia. And, by the way, the name of the restaurant comes from the fact that they serve one's food on huge banana leaves instead of plates!

After dinner we grabbed a cab and headed over to one of Chris' favorite haunts in Manila, Club Mwah. I'd heard great things from Chris about this night club and disco and seen lotsa fun pictures from his several visits here with colleagues and visitors from work. Chris clearly felt at home from the moment that we walked in; his posture and gait were more confident and about half of the staff greeted him by name. This place is fabulous! I felt as if I'd walked into The Birdcage! The manager/owner, Pocholo, greeted Chris and showed us all around, introduced us to his partner (also named Chris) with whom he co-owns the club, and chatted with us for several minutes as he told us about some of the celebrities who'd visited -- ambassadors, politicians, and corporate executives, even Imelda Marcos! Chris' friend, Jun, a travel agent, joined us shortly and took some great pics of us that he shared. The show was simply amazing. They performed routines to Gloria Gaynor's I Am What I Am, Jailhouse Tango from Chicago, and something from Miss Saigon, among many other numbers. At the end, the two main hostesses and Chaka did an interactive comedy routine with the audience, introducing various groups to the rest of the club. They even put us in the spotlight at one point!

It was a very fun evening that ended far too soon. We left shortly after midnight so that we could rise at 5 AM and catch our 7 AM flight to... somewhere. Stay tuned! :J

Manila Trip - Part 5

2006-10-18T19:00:00.000-04:00

Chris worked a compressed week, putting in his 40 hours in three days, so that we could take off for a few adventures in the latter half of the week. He arrived home at about 3 AM on Thursday morning and, like me, arose groggily at 5.30 AM. We dressed quickly, caught our car, and arrived at the airport for our 7:00 AM flight on Philippine Airlines (PAL) to Legaspi City.

Legaspi City (also spelled "Legazpi", though the S dominates locally) is on the Bicol peninsula, near the southern tip of Luzon, the largest of the more than 7,100 islands that make up the Philippines, and is home to Mayon, a well-known, active volcano highly regarded for its beauty due to its nearly perfectly symmetrical cone. I was excited about the prospect of visiting Mayon when I learned our destination (Chris kept many of his plans secret until the last minute.), especially since we'd just visited Taal several days before and because Mayon had just erupted a couple of months earlier.

Our tour guide, Edith Batalla, and our driver, Joe Joe met us at the airport. (A note about our driver's name: Reduplication is a common feature of Tagalog and other Melanesian languages and is often used to pluralize or to intensify words, so Joe Joe could be Joe Sr, Joe Jr, or Big Joe.) Edith took us on a complete tour of the towns and sights around Mayon and we completely circled the volcano. We visited Cagsawa (site of a town that Mayon buried in an 1814 eruption, only its bell tower survives), Naglagbong Geothermal Park and a ceramics factory in Tiwi, the Mayon Planetarium, and took in the view from a picnic shelter within the "permanent danger zone" on the slopes of Mayon. We also drove over numerous river beds that crews were clearing of ash and debris with which Mayon had filled them just weeks earlier. Edith delivered us to hour hotel at about 3 PM and provided us with some suggestions for dinner. Our accommodation for the evening was the Pepperland Motel, a large, Moorish-looking edifice the color of an egg yolk. We made our way to our room and lie down for a nap, but we ended up sleeping through the night and awoke at 6 AM.

Unfortunately, I didn't completely sleep through the night. Instead, it finally hit me; I got sick. I made several trips to the bathroom that night and produced something akin to a lumpy purée of motor oil and spinach. Like Mayon's, my own eruptions subsided quickly, though I felt queasy for much of the next day.

Having missed dinner (but being no worse off for it), we enjoyed a hearty breakfast and set out for the second part of our tour. We went to Ligñon Hill and visited a Phivolcs volcanic observatory station on its slopes and then took in the view from an events hall at its summit. Edith showed us Legaspi City's port area and Lion Hill, as well as the hillside Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe (further evidence of the colonial-era connection between the Philippines and Mexico). I took some good photos of local flora at the Shrine; I now know where all of our tropical house-plants originated! We wandered around Pacific Mall for a couple of hours before Edith and Joe Joe delivered us to the airport for our 3 PM return flight to Manila.

PAL flies between Manila and Legaspi City only three times per week, so in order to return the next day, our return flight was on Cebu Pacific Air. I had never heard of Cebu Pacific and was a bit anxious about the return flight, imagining the airline equivalent of steerage with naked children and poultry running amok. You can imagine how pleased I was to board a brand new Airbus 319 (just three months old)! Cebu Pacific seems to be the Philippines' equivalent of the United States' Southwest Airlines, a fun-oriented, low-cost carrier. Cebu Pacific cabin crew often engage the passengers in karaoke and name-that-tune contests, though we were not so privileged on the 45-minute flight back to Manila. The flight was comfortable, on-time, and quite enjoyable. I look forward to flying Cebu Pacific again!

While we were waiting for our flight, a man walked in followed by two other men who were hunched over under the weight of an enormous icon of the Virgin Mary. This icon eventually occupied a place of honor in the floor of the front row of the plane and burdened two other now-hunchbacked men upon her arrival in Manila, where she attracted a sizable crowd of admirers and was eventually met by a small parade of several cars and vans adorned with blue and white balloons.

Unfortunately, Mayon was shy and kept its summit covered by clouds during our entire stay in Legaspi City. Edith explained that Mayon and the clouds that often cover its peak have been anthropomorphized by myth into a young, beautiful heiress (Mayon) whose father insisted that she marry a man of his choosing rather than the good and handsome, yet poor boy that she truly loved (the clouds). To escape her father's wrath and marriage to someone whom she didn't love, she took her own life. Upon learning of the heiress' demise, her enamored did likewise. She became the volcano and he the clouds and now the two are said to be making love when the clouds come and cover Mayon's tip for days at a time, flaunting their affair for all to see. So, rather than shy, I should say that Mayon was quite flagrant during our stay. I'm sure that Mayon's recent eruption was a feminine tantrum and the clouds were just soothing Mayon's temper for a perceived wrong!

I was thrilled to have the opportunity to visit Mayon, but I can't say a whole lot about Legaspi City. If you live in Manila and are bored one weekend, it might be a fun over-night trip, but I can't say that I was impressed enough to spend a whole weekend there and I think that Chris would echo my sentiments. Mayon is definitely the highlight of the area, though I'd have to say that chocolate-covered pili nuts are a close second! The area is also known for its whale shark watching.

I can say that Edith proved herself thoroughly knowledgeable about her home province of Albay and region of Bicol. I commented that she must've been a life-long tour guide, but she countered that she'd changed careers just four years ago, having previously been a professor of American Literature at two universities in Manila and Legaspi City for more than twenty years! If you do find yourself in Legaspi City, look her up! :J

Manila Trip - Part 4

2006-10-11T21:45:00.000-04:00

The last few days have been kinda slow. Chris has been working a compressed week to put in his 40 hours in three days so that we can take off for a trip later this week. We were talking about the schedule for the rest of my stay and it came out that he has not one but two plane trips planned for us before I leave! He hasn't said where we're going, but I suspect that we're whisking off to Legaspi in southern Luzon and to Palawan. Time will tell!

So, I've been amusing myself by being a mall rat. There are several malls within walking distance of the hotel, three of which I can see from my window. From what I've read and seen on maps, I'm convinced that there must be well over a hundred malls in Metro Manila.

I walked Podium mall one evening in just a couple of hours. It has five levels, but the complex is quite compact. The shops are higher-end places like Lacoste, Columbia Sportswear, and Victorinox Luggage. The merchandise is as expensive as it is in the States, if not more so. I bought a map of the Philippines in National Book Store and some toiletries in Watson's Drugs.

Another day, I explored half of SM Megamall. Now, this is an enormous place! Chris has lived here for two and a half months and says that he still discovers stores. This used to be the Philippines' largest mall until this past May, when Mall of Asia, now Asia's largest mall, opened in a relatively undeveloped area on Manila Bay at the southern end of the EDSA expressway. SM Megamall also has five levels and is divided into two buildings, which are actually connected on four levels by a connector that stretches over Doña Julia Vargas Ave. In addition to hundreds of shops and restaurants (including a Jollibee on nearly every level -- more on that shortly), a bowling alley, an exposition hall, an anchor SM Department Store, a dozen-screen cinema, and an SM Super Market. Level 4 of building A is mostly art galleries, while level 5 has a lot of doctors' and dentists' offices. There's an area of small electronic stores (where I was glad to find a new charger for my mobile phone), a couple of hardware stores, many hair salons, and a car dealership. BTW, SM stands for "Shoe Mart", which is how the large company that SM has become got its start.

Walking the malls has given me some insight into a few particular segments of Philippine culture. I have noticed that men aren't extremely shy about adjusting themselves, picking their noses, or whipping it out for a pee in any old corner outdoors. As such, there are steel stalls scattered about the streets with the words "Male Urinal" emblazoned upon them. Interestingly enough, wimmin are more discreet about such things and, unfortunately, are not accommodated in the same way -- there are no "Female Urinal" cottages that I've seen.

Mall corridors are peppered with food kiosks, which sell all manner of foods. Among their offerings are hot dogs, which are usually wrapped in a waffle (kinda like a corn dog) and described as "American style." Mexican food and doughnuts are available everywhere, in kiosks, carts, and storefront restaurants. Taho is a traditional Filipino treat that I tried from a cart in the mall; it's made of tofu, turbinado syrup, and tapioca balls and served warm; I wanted to be able to say that I'd tried it and now, I can. Of course, all of this walking and shopping worked up an appetite in me, so I ducked into Jollibee, a fast-food chain that features a Filipino interpretation of American fast food. Hamburgers are available on buns made of bread or sticky rice (which McDonald's also offers). Fried chicken is served with mashed potatoes and gravy or rice and mushrooms. Breakfast includes pancakes, eggs, choice of sausage or corned beef, and, of course, the traditional garlic rice.

I'm very much enjoying myself here and am beginning to feel quite comfortable. I think that if I were here for an extended stay, like Chris, I could adapt and fit in quite quickly, a statement as much about my host country as about me. :J

Manila Trip - Part 3

2006-10-10T09:00:00.000-04:00

Saturday started out with a bit of an adventure, as did Sunday. Sunday's was fun; Saturday's wasn't.

The training group that Chris was observing had finished a sequence of modules and was having a graduation party of sorts in a neighborhood resort with pool and bar not far from the office. Chris' colleagues wanted for me to attend the party, so I caught a cab to meet Chris at his office, which is in a Robinson's mall in Cainta. I packed a few things for the party, grabbed my mobile phone, a map of Manila, and some cash and headed out the door. Chris had mentioned that such a trip would cost about P200 (US$4). The hotel doorman offered to have the hotel car drive me ("It will be safer."), which would've cost P1,000 (US$20), but I elected for the cheaper cab. The doorman hailed a cab, took the cabbie's license and wrote down his name and registration number, then described to the cabbie where he understood that I wanted to go. I was off! I sent Chris a text message to let him know that I was on my way. I knew where I was going, so I followed along in my map for a while. Shortly, I noticed that the cabbie turned off of the street that'd've taken us from near the hotel to Chris' office in a straight shot. I paid close attention, but began to get a little worried. I worried a bit more when he turned off of this large boulevard onto a two-lane street that wound through a neighborhood and past a derelict freeway interchange that was intended to cross the Pasig River. There were still a lot of cabs around and I could tell where we were, so I figured that the cabbie knew a less-congested route. We ended up on another major boulevard that crossed the river and finally arrived at a destination -- a different Robinson's mall in another part of Cainta.

"Here you are, sir, Robinson's Cainta," the cabbie reported.

I didn't recognize the place and I knew from following the map that this wasn't where I wanted to go. "Is this Ortigas Avenue?", I asked somewhat rhetorically.

"Yes, sir," he replied, without hesitating to think about or acknowledge what I'd asked.

"No, it isn't!", I snapped. "This isn't where I wanted to go," I deadpanned as I handed the cabbie the map and pointed out my intended destination. The cabbie's eyes grew wide as he studied the map. I sent Chris another text message to report that we were lost. The phone rang shortly and Chris reported that one of his colleagues, Rio, was going to talk to the cabbie and tell him how to find where we needed to go. The cabbie took the phone and began speaking in Tagalog; I could tell that he was just as panicked as was I and I figured out that this is where the doorman had told him to take me. He handed the phone back to me and Rio reassured me that the cabbie now knew where he was going. I continued to follow along on the map until I was delivered to my correct destination just a few minutes later, aged and wizened from my experience!

I went inside the building and helped Chris for about an hour put together some things for a game night that we were to host on Sunday evening. About an hour later, we left for the resort. Our driver, Dante, whom Chris knows well, zig-zagged about the neighborhood where the resort was located for about 30 minutes before we found where we were going. The others followed about an hour later, then the food arrived an hour more later and was served just as we had to leave to arrive at another engagement. We scarfed down our barbecued tilapia with rice and hit the streets again.

We cabbed back to the hotel, changed clothes, and grabbed another cab that would take us to the Cultural Center of the Philippines, a large auditorium complex on Manila Bay, where Noel, a friend of Chris', was performing in a Tchaikovsky opera, Eugene Onégin. We travelled south on the EDSA expressway and turned north on Roxas Boulevard. We found the CCP complex and continued on through about a half-dozen more intersections, looking for one at which we could legally U-turn, a situation that amused me, considering how traffic works here. We u-turned and passed the CCP again. Frustrated, we stopped the cab and walked a couple of blocks to our destination. Inside, we dozed intermittently during the opera, but awoke when we heard Noel singing. After the performance, we greeted him in the lobby, then hopped in a cab for our next destination.

This driver was serious about getting us quickly to Mall of Asia for dinner and a concert with The Von Trapp Children. He sped up, braked, swerved, honked and wove his way through traffic in much the same way as do all other drivers here, though he was more determined in his pursuit of as many fares as possible. We walked about the mall, had a nice dinner, then made our way to the concert hall to see The Von Trapp Children, descendants of the real family on whose story The Sound of Music is based, who still tour and perform! It had been a long day for both of us and we slumped in our seats as we waited for the concert to begin, which it finally did 40 minutes late. We enjoyed about 45 minutes of singing until intermission, at which point we left. We were disheartened at the long taxi queue, but it moved quite quickly and we were home and in bed less than an hour later.

Sunday morning came early, though not quite as early as we'd thought it would. Dante, the driver, was to meet us and three of Chris' work friends at the hotel at 6 AM. When we awoke, the clock rudely reported that it was 6:20. We sprang from bed and began to buzz about getting ready. The phone rang; it was Jane calling from downstairs; she, Karen, and Lara had arrived, but Dante wasn't there yet. We readied ourselves and shot down in the elevator. Dante called to report that he'd just finished repairing a flat tire. We hit the road by 7 AM and made our way down the ESDA, past Mall of Asia, past the airport, and out of Metro Manila on the South Luzon Expressway into Cavite province. We drove the Aguinaldo Highway through Bacoor, Imus, and Silang. The terrain became more mountainous as we approached Tagaytay and then crossed into Batangas province just before arriving in our destination, Laurel, about two hours after setting out. In Laurel, we stopped at Natalia's Guest House, where we arranged for transportation across Lake Taal to Volcano Island and then up to the rim of Taal Volcano. A twenty-minute boat ride landed us on Volcano Island, where a twenty-minute donkey ride took us to the rim of Taal. That was the first time in my life that I'd ever ridden any sort of equine transport! The scenery was undeniably breath-taking and I took many photos. By the time that we returned to Natalia's, we were quite tired, even though we'd done nothing but ride all day -- van, boat, donkey! We lunched on grill-roasted tilapia from Lake Taal, stir-fried vegetables, rice, iced tea (quite popular here), and bananas. A sleepy-two hour drive returned us home to the hotel.

Jane, Karen, and Lara, who'd accompanied us to Taal, stayed on in anticipation of a game night that Chris had planned for some of his colleagues. We assembled the cards that we'd use for game play -- cutting, pasting, and laminating. Jane and I walked to the grocery store in the SM Megamall for drinks and snacks. John arrived at about 6 PM and Dianne arrived shortly afterwards. Chris ordered dinner from Yellow Cab Pizza and we set upon playing Scruples and having a thoroughly enjoyable evening. I enjoyed a Red Horse (strong Philippine beer) with my pizza. Though Chris intended to stay up through the night to get back on his work-week schedule, I couldn't keep my eyes open and lied down for a nap at about 10:30 PM, shortly before our guests left. It had been a fun weekend and I was completely worn out!

Manila Trip - Part 2

2006-10-07T03:00:00.000-04:00

After Chris met me at the airport, we went back to his office to collect his belongings and tie up some loose ends. All of his work friends had said that they wanted to meet me and I was interested to see where Chris was working, so I had planned on making a trip to his office eventually. As we drove through Manila, I was struck at how much it conjured up memories of Mexico City.

Indeed, there are many similarities between the cities. Each was the capital of a Spanish colony; each city is a cosmopolitan, urban jungle in the midst of what are essentially third-world countries; each suffers under terrible pollution that would choke a Californian; and each has traffic that would fray the nerves of even a Parisian driver. Their respective countries have much in common, too. Each country was christianized by the Spanish and now has a Catholic majority; each is now closely allied (politically, culturally, and economically to varying degrees) with the United States; there are great economic disparities and extremes of rich and poor; each is doing a respectable job of maintaining a democracy and is working hard to modernize infrastructure, as well as economic and political institutions.

While driving along, I saw the naked superstructures of huge billboards that are sprinkled throughout the city. During typhoon Milenyo that passed through Metro Manila just a couple of weeks ago, one such billboard fell onto a bus and killed 40 people, causing an outcry against these billboards that clutter the skyline, so the billboards themselves were removed, leaving the bare superstructures.

Traffic here is quite something to experience. There are cars, buses, jeepneys, motorcycles, bicycles, and people streaming everywhere and all mixed together. There's clearly a system to it and it works; I've not seen an accident and Chris has only been in one light fender-bender. The key seems to be that people drive slowly and make liberal use of the horn to communicate their presence and intentions.

We arrived at Chris' office and checked through security (as we will do for every office building or shop that we enter). We arrived just as Chris' shift of trainees was leaving (which felt like class change in a small high school) and as we walked through the hallway, literally every second person chimed, "Hi, Chris!" He is clearly quite popular and well-respected. We encountered a crowd of Chris' work friends and he made the rounds of introductions. They all knew exactly who I was and exactly what I was doing here and were very excited to meet me. Chris had just a few loose ends to tie up in his day, so the crowd (Diane, Lara, John, Karen, and Jane) took me to breakfast in the office cafeteria and we had a fun and lively conversation. Karen bought me a flan to sample, which tasted different and somehow better than the Mexican and Spanish flan that I've had, and I had a surprisingly tasty instant coffee from a machine. We talked about their experiences at work (They are a contract call center for several American companies, though this bunch works exclusively on the United Health account.), American culture, Philippine culture, my work, and their interactions with Chris.

Chris can be very quiet at times and some here thought that he was a snob until he came to work one day and related to them something that had happened to him at his hotel. He returned home one morning (after his over-night shift) to find missing the stuffed turtle, Ruga, that I'd sent with him. He was very upset and chatted me up, starting out with "I have some distressing news!" After learning that neither his office hadn't been bombed and he hadn't been mugged, I encouraged him to ask the front desk about Ruga. He marched down and did so, then went out for errands for a couple of hours and when he returned, Ruga was back in place! Yay! Karen explained how this story finally revealed a big part of Chris' personality that they'd not yet seen and endeared him to them, "That's when Chris became Chris to us!"

The next day, we went out to the SM Mega Mall for lunch at a Mexican restaurant and to do a bit of grocery shopping. Lunch at the Mexican restaurant was tasty and interesting. Vegetarian items were mostly absent from the menu, but cooks are accommodating if asked. Pinto beans aren't available here, so there are no refried beans as we know them in North America; they put whole kidney beans in my taco, instead. I had a side order of guacamole which was unlike any guacamole that I've had in North America; it tasted like it was made with a mayonnaise base and perhaps had an avocado passed near it. Chris mentioned not having notice avocadoes in the grocery store. Mind you, the meal was tasty and filling. The salsa was good and the margarita was strong! I felt the need to clarify that by commenting on the differences that I see, I'm just making observations on how others interpret things (cuisine, in this instance) differently from how we, ourselves, have interpreted them in the United States. It's not a pale imitation of the authentic, just a different perspective.

We browsed through several shops in the mall and were invariably greeted with a "Hello, Sir!" from every sales clerk within earshot (and some beyond, I'm sure). As we browsed through the mall's flagship SM department store, sales staff greeted us and then hovered next to us as we looked at clothes, rice cookers, dishes, toys, and other merchandise. I realize that they're just being helpful by making themselves available, but I found it very annoying and impossible to shop.

The grocery store operated much like any grocery store in the United States. The mix of merchandise was quite similar, though there were many tell-tale signs that we're in Asia. There are an abundance of fruits that I just don't see in the US -- big, spiky melons that look dangerous to touch; limes the size of kumquats or pearl onions; something called dragon fruit that looks like a pink puffer fish. A lot of it wasn't pretty -- it was scraped and scuffed with black marks and some of it was wilted. Hey, it's still edible! Maybe chemical pesticides and fertilizers aren't as common here as in the United States, so it might be even more edible! There was a whole aisle of ramen-type noodles and another whole aisle of instant sauces and gravies, yet only one small section of breakfast cereals. Cranberry sauce nestled among the spaghetti sauces, sold in bags. I purchased a bag of something called "banana catsup" that is made without tomatoes, yet is somehow red. Fish and shrimp-flavored items abound and I bought a few shrimp-flavored chips and crackers and something called "Yummy Flakes", as well as some pumpkin seeds roasted black (quite good) which seem quite popular, some fried peas, and a can of fish soup. Whenever I've travelled abroad, I've always found grocery stores to be quite entertaining places.

In the days ahead, I'm looking forward to a game night with Chris' friends from work; a trip to Tagaytay to explore the Taal volcano and its crater lake; and a trip to Palawan, a large and mostly undeveloped island in the western Philippines. This trip is shaping up to be the adventure of a lifetime and I'm so glad to be here! :J

Manila Trip - Part 1

2006-10-06T06:00:00.000-04:00

Tuesday, the day that I left for my trip to visit Chris in Manila, started early and ended late... Thursday morning late.

I awoke at my usual time... about 7 AM. I showered and dressed, finished packing, took care of a few last minute things, and hit the road shortly after 10 AM to drive to the Charlotte airport. Along the way, I stopped in Salisbury and met with Chris' Dad and sister to pick up some things that they wanted to send to him. Traffic was good and parking, riding the shuttle, checking in, and going through security all went quite smoothly and I arrived at my gate with time to spare before my 3.30 PM boarding.

This left me with plenty of time to read, people-watch, and to think about what lay ahead of me and behind me. Granny had passed away on Saturday evening and I'd missed her funeral while I was driving to the airport. I made my travel plans several weeks ago when Granny was still in the nursing home and her short-term prognosis was decent. Even after she entered the hospital, she appeared to have stabilized in the days before my trip; it seemed likely that she'd pass away while I was in Manila and quite possible that she'd hang on until I returned. I think that I'm OK with missing the funeral and I think that my family is, too. I made a point to be present for the family viewing and visitation on Monday because I knew that I'd be absent on Tuesday. Pops and all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins seemed very excited for me. My cousins in Charlotte, Billy and Jenny, had both agreed to drive me to the airport, but now couldn't. I decided to just put my car in long-term parking, which I think is for the best, since my return flight is set to arrive at 6.30 AM and who would've wanted to meet me at the airport at that hour!?

I flew from Charlotte to San Francisco on US Airways, which took 5.5 hours and was a pleasant enough experience. An airline friend made sure that I had a seat on the exit row for plenty of leg room and clued me in to the in-flight movie and café choices. The flight attendant in my section grew up in Kernersville and lives in Pfafftown, both suburbs of Winston-Salem, so we had fun chatting about home. Though I'd wanted to see the movie, The Lake House, I chose not to purchase headphones and taught myself to work sudoku puzzles instead. En route, the pilot pointed out Memphis and the Mississippi River and made another announcement about our impending landing while we were over southern Utah.

Upon landing in San Francisco, I quickly found my way to the international terminal. While walking, I noticed the outdoor scenery through the airport's large windows. I was impressed with the area's beauty -- hills stretched out in every direction and were lovely, despite the fact that they're covered with homes -- and took a moment to appreciate the bustle of Bay Area California -- a freeway runs close enough to the airport so that I could nearly identify license plates and more than one rail transit system was evident. As I checked-in for my flight on Philippine Airlines (PAL), I noticed that nearly everyone on the plane was Filipino, all but about a half-dozen of us. As I looked about, I noticed that about half of the Filipinos were Filipino-Americans, carrying blue US passports. (Filipino passports are green or red.) Nearly everyone had 18-inch cube boxes packed (and I do mean PACKED) with goods. Addresses written on the side of the boxes were almost invariably in Metro Manila -- Quezon City, Makati, Pasay, and Mandaluyong, among others.

I was hungry and had some time to kill after checking-in, so I found some food and had some dinner -- pesto bowtie pasta and cheesecake. I began thinking of whom I could call to pass the time, but realized that everyone at home was likely in bed, so I thought of whom I knew on the west coast. I could only find one such number in my phone, so I called my friend, Kelly, and caught up with her. When I hung up with her, I went to the restroom and had almost finished when Chris called to check on me, but he was kind enough to hang on while I raised and buttoned my pants.

I made my way to the gate, where the staff had us form one line so that they could tag our bags. The unorganized crowd slimmed into a rough line, then the staff announced that we should form two lines to have our bags tagged. Collective groan. We approached in turn and placed our bags on the scale and the staff attached a PAL tag. Signs declared a strict limit of one carry-on bag weighing no more than 7 kilograms or 15 pounds and one small personal item, claiming that this is a regulation of the FAA, though I doubt that last assertion. Nevertheless, I had little problem boarding with my two bags that weighed a total of 24 pounds. I know how much they weighed because the ticketing agent weighed them for me.

The flight was great for the most part. They fed us three meals, served us several drinks, and showed four movies (two in English and two in Tagalog) and several TV shows. In contrast to US Airways, which charged for food and headsets, everything on the PAL flight was included, even cocktails! I suppose that when you're gonna be on a plane for that amount of time (16.5 hours), they want to keep you quite happy. I was expecting a refueling stop in Guam, but the plane stopped in Honolulu instead. When Chris flew over on Northwest, they stopped in Japan and made everyone deplane with their carry-on bags; in contrast, we were not allowed off of the plane and couldn't make any calls.

I was seated in an aisle seat, next to a friendly Filipino chap named Gerry. We talked a bit, but not a great deal. It was a nice flight for the most part. I slept fitfully and for only about 4 hours. About an hour before we landed we hit a patch of bad weather that shook the plane hard. At one point, we dropped sharply and would've come out of our seats if not for our safety belts -- quite like a roller coaster. That's when Gerry started vomiting. I saw him fidgeting with his air sickness bag, then throw it to the ground in disgust. Then, he yanked the case off of his pillow and threw up into it. He had spoken at length with the other two Filipino guys in our row and one of them began to rub Gerry's back. I unwrapped my blanket and handed the plastic wrapper to Gerry; he dropped his pillow case into it and promptly threw up again. I picked up the flight safety card and fanned him. He was sweating profusely and leaned forward against the seat in front of him to try to regain his composure. By this time, the other two guys in our row had done likewise, also overcome with nausea. They certainly weren't alone, as I heard hurling all around me. When the turbulence calmed, Gerry made his way to the lavatory. The crew served breakfast and the others in my row ate, which made me think that Gerry's vomiting caused their nausea. The smell of food permeated the aircraft and I hoped that Gerry wouldn't return anytime soon, lest the odor cause him to vomit again. But, he did. And, he did. I'm just glad that he didn't throw up outside the bag or on me and that I didn't get nauseated. I concentrated on my customs and immigration form to take my mind off of it.

We landed and everyone applauded, certainly at least as much for the simple fact that the flight was over as for the pilot's skill in flying and landing the plane. I walked off of the plane and up the jet-way and followed the crowd to immigration. A clerk took a copy of my immigration and customs form, entered the info from my passport into the computer (a Dell), then stamped my passport. I was in! Yay! Faces were pressed against the terminal's outside windows watching for loved ones. I found the baggage carousel and then turned to look through the window (really, one whole wall of the terminal) for Chris. I saw him standing at the covered driveway and waved; he saw me and waved back, so I blew him a kiss.

I waited at the baggage carousel for quite awhile before it even began moving. An announcement said that technical problems were causing a delay in off-loading our bags -- sounds like someone lost the key! I found that my mobile phone was working, so I called Chris to say hello and tell him what I'd heard. I waited a bit longer. The conveyor finally started, but there was no sign of my bag for quite a while. I called Mamaw to tell her that I'd arrived safely. I waited a bit more. I counted three trips that one set of bags made past me. While I was preparing for my trip, I was very concerned that my bag would be lost. My airline friend told me that inter-airline baggage transfers are prime opportiunities for lost bags. I packed strategically and put in the checked bags only things that I'd be comfortable losing. I carried-on things that I absolutely didn't want to lose -- medicines, camera, and nicer clothes. I was carrying medicines for both myself and Chris, as well as several food products and some gifts from Chris' family. After about 45 minutes, I saw my big, brown duffel break through the rubber curtain and snake its way toward me. I picked it up and prepared to face Customs. I was a bit concerned about how this might go, considering that I was carrying prescription drugs and many foodstuffs, but the clerk just took my form, glanced at my bags, and waved me through the outside door ten feet away. That was it! I was here! Yay!

Chris greeted me with a big hug. After 10 weeks apart and the longest flight of my life, he was even more handsome that I'd remembered and a very welcome sight in a country that I'd never visited, twelve thousand miles from home. I didn't think about what the next two weeks would bring, but just concentrated on the moment -- of finally being in the ground and with my Sweetie. :J

Highs and Lows

2006-10-01T11:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, Saturday, 30 September, was a day of profound emotional highs and lows.

The day started out on an anxious note as I rose at 5.45, my normal hour for awakening, to get ready to drive up to Wake Forest University and take the LSAT. I felt prepared enough for the test. I'd taken a prep class and had taken several practice test sections, so I knew what to expect on the actual test. I'd driven past the testing site (the WFU law school) and scoped out the parking situation, so I felt that I knew what to expect at the site. The test itself went well enough. There was one reading comprehension section on which I ran out of time and had to C-C-C, but I don't think that I grossly screwed up anything, so I feel good about my performance. I felt so relieved... positively giddy... as I walked out of the testing center. My score will arrive in three weeks, just a few days after I return from Manila. That was the high note.

The low came at 7 o'clock yesterday evening when the phone rang with a call from a mobile phone number that I didn't recognize. I picked up and didn't immediately recognize my Pops' voice, but when I did, I knew why he was calling. Granny had passed away just minutes before. I had been expecting the news for some time, but it was still a surprise and saddening when it finally arrived.

So now, there's the question of the arrangements for Granny's memorial service. I'm leaving for Manila on Tuesday and I was relying on my cousin, Billy, to take me to the airport. I don't expect my family to make arrangements specifically to accommodate me, so I wonder how I might need to change my plans and whether I'll even be able to attend the funeral. I feel a bit selfish and very awkward about this situation.

I'll just have to let go and see how God leads me to handle Granny's memorial service. That strategy has worked out quite well for me this year and has brought me a great boyfriend in the immediate wake of my divorce, helped me to lose 35 pounds (16 kilos) since January, led me to start the process of applying to law school, and is about to put me on a plane for a 24-hour trip to Asia to visit my boyfriend. All of this in a year! Who knows where else I might be led! :J

Marcia Veatrice Jones Towell
1911-2006

The Week that Sucked

2006-09-18T22:03:00.000-04:00

Last week sucked. So much went so wrong for me, my family, and some of my friends!

The week got off to a bad start with a sore throat from the weekend (9-10 Sep). A sore throat has always been a cause of concern for me, since I am prone to catching strep throat; I had it every year as a child and every semester in college. This one didn't last long, but I missed work on Monday. Some other bug came around after the sore throat went away; I had a fever on Thursday afternoon and missed work again on Friday. Normally, I'd welcome a day(or two) away from work, but I'm carrying around more than a bit of anxiety about work right now, so I wasn't pleased that I had to miss and risk appearing the slacker.

On Wednesday, a friend mentioned to me that he wasn't feeling well. I probed his statement, which seemed innocuous enough on the surface, and found that he was afraid that he was having a heart attack. (This person is a heart attack survivor, so he would know what it feels like.) I reviewed with him his symptoms and asked what he might do about about this. Before I left work, I made him promise that he'd visit the doctor when his shift ended and call me when he'd found out something. I spent the evening at home worried about my friend -- hoping that he would, indeed, go to the doctor and wondering what the doctor would find. He called me in the wee hours of Thursday morning, having just returned home from the hospital and reported that his symptoms weren't due to a heart attack, but were the result of recent lifestyle changes (a temporary work relocation) that presented him with too much rich food and too little exercise and sleep. He has since taken measures to rectify his situation.

Also on Wednesday, another friend (whom I'll call Thom) told me that some of his online accounts had been hijacked by a guy in Indonesia. Having recently moved, Thom had been checking some of his online accounts to be sure that he'd updated them with his new address, when he found that information in his E-Bay account had been changed and that someone had bought three laptop computers and an expensive mobile phone. The next day, the cracker had locked Thom out of his two primary e-mail accounts! Thom had to create new e-mail accounts and spent several hours on the phone with his service providers to sort out the mess, parts of which are still unresolved. Though he didn't lose any money (or hasn't yet), he has lost several hours of his time and a bit of sense of security from the violation. At one point, the cracker actually contacted him directly by e-mail! That gave even me an eerie, "the-call-is-coming-from-inside-the-house" kinda feeling. I felt so sick about Thom's situation that I wanted to throw up, myself! I don't know how the cracker got into Thom's computer, but when Thom was reviewing his security, he found that his firewall was off. Who knows if something inadvertent happened to switch off the firewall and let the cracker in or if the cracker got in some other way and turned the firewall off. I've helped Thom scan his computer for several threats, but I've encouraged him to backup his data, reformat his hard drive, and install Windows afresh. Who knows what sort of key-logger or snooping software the cracker might've left on his computer that would allow him to do this again!

On top of all of this, Granny (my paternal grandmother) is in the hospital and not doing well. My whole family gathered at the hospital on Friday night for a round of tearful goodbyes. Granny is 95, very sick, and in much pain with a broken leg; she says that all of her prayers have been answered and that she's ready to go whenever God sees fit to lead her onward. Nevertheless, it'll be tough for whose who stay behind when she does move on and quite a loss for our family. She is still with us as I write this (Monday evening, 18 Sep), but she is clearly continuing on her journey toward her eventual destination.

I do have a few things to which I can look forward to seeing me through this trying time. My LSAT preparation class is going well and I feel good about the skills and strategies that I'm learning. Also, my trip to Manila is little more than two weeks away! Yay! Before I know it, I'll be putting my pencil down and picking my passport up! :J

Sunday with Granny

2006-08-27T23:00:00.000-04:00

My friend, Leslie, called me this morning and invited me to attend church with her at MCC of Winston-Salem, since it was Pastor Mark's last Sunday with us before moving to New Jersey to live with his partner. I'd attended the evening service at ths church, but never the morning service and I was in for a treat! The church was alive with the Spirit! Gospel music filled the church through the sound system and folks were milling about, chatting and hugging and breaking into an occasional dance or hand-clapping fit. This is what I so enjoyed about my days at the now-defunct Saint Mary's MCC in Greensboro -- the family atmosphere and sheer exhuberance!

Shirley, a hip, grand-motherly sort who'd greeted me on my previous visits came right over to hug me and we exchanged a few greetings. I asked her to introduce me to two other congregants (whom I'll call Jane and Belinda) whom I knew regularly attended the morning service. She ushered me right over and introduced me. I explained to Jane and Belinda that I lived in the house that they used to own and that they vacated about five years ago. They were ecstatic! "Oh, we miss that house so!" "We had to stop driving by because the womon to whom we sold it just let it go." "I love that house; my heart is in it!" Hearing this and putting two and two together, Shirley interjected that she lives in an apartment just around the corner from me. I promised to have Jane and Belinda to dinner one evening and extended to Shirley an open invitation to drop by.

Leslie and I sat just behind Jane and Belinda and we exchanged friendly remarks throughout the service, which was very emotional. At open prayer time, many offered praises for success on the job, relationship happiness, and financial break-throughs. One womon gave thanks for having lost over 100 pounds in the past year! Still others shared the heartache of lost employment and loved ones who are lost or ill. I was one who had heartache to share, involving my paternal grandmother's failing health and my plans to visit her this afternoon. Several folks, including Pastor Mark, mentioned that their thoughts would go with me and my family.

My paternal grandmother, Granny, has been in failing health for the past several years, but things have really slid downhill this year. A tumor is growing in her chest and pressing on her trachea such that it will eventually suffocate her. Surgery, chemotheraphy, and radiotherapy are impractical options in a womon of 95 years. I shared this with the congregation and added that I was going to visit Granny this afternoon to take advantage of the few fleeting opportunities that remain for me to do so.

When informed of her situation and asked how she wanted to make use of the time that she had remaining, Granny replied that God had answered all of her prayers and that she had gotten out of life all that she could want; she just wanted to spend time with and enjoy her sizable family (4 children and their significant others; 6 grandchildren; 4 great-grandchildren; a smattering of siblings and in-laws; and the proverbial host of nieces, nephews, cousins, and extended family; as well as her church family).

Granny has had to move from her assisted-living facility into an acute-care nusring home and the lack of oxygen in her system quite often leaves her confused and foggy. She might not remember when anyone last visited her, but she recognizes every face that enters her room! And you'd better believe that she'll have a sassy remark for you! Granny actually looked quite good and was in good spirits, despite the rough week that she'd had, having had to use an oxygen mask for several days.

I thank God for all of my family and friends and treasure each one of them as a pearl on a fine string of them. Each is unique and, by nature, imperfect. They certainly have their rough spots, but that's what makes them genuine and, indeed, precious. :J

Granny celebrates her 95th birthday in February 2006 with some of her grandchildren: Lori, Billy, Justin (moi), and Jenny.

Granny celebrates her 94th birthday in February 2005 with her oldest daughter, my aunt Anne, and Anne's husband; their children, Lori and Billy, and their spouses; and three of her four great-grandchildren.

While Strolling through the 'Hood One Day

2006-08-27T21:03:00.000-04:00

My normal lunch-time routine during the work-week includes a half-hour walk through the neighborhood next to campus, Greensboro's College Hill, so named because it's sandwiched between Greensboro College and UNC Greensboro. On one such walk recently, I noticed a few things that stood out to me for one reason or another.

First, I saw a big, white van parked in front of one of the grander houses in the neighborhood. The van bore the name and phone number of a local paint company and there several guys in white jump-suits perched on ladders all around the house, all dilligently stroking their paint-brushes left and right over the clapboard siding. Affixed non-chalantly to the rear bumper of the van was a permanent handicapped license plate! WTF?

Second, I was walking down the main thoroughfare through campus, on which the City has just installed a new bicycle lane. A campus bicycle cop was pedalling along in the freshly-painted lane and it occurred to me how pleased I was that the City and the University had worked together to take steps to encourage people travel to campus via means other than their cars. (The several colleges and universities in town cooperated with the Greensboro Transit Authority and just initiated HEAT, a new bus service that connects all of the campuses in town.) So, the bicycle cop was pedalling along and approaching a traffic light that had turned red. And he kept going! Hello, copper!? Do I need to remind you that bicycles have to obey traffic laws, too? I chose not to do so in that case.

Finally, I saw a cool W oval. You know those annoying W '04 ovals that Bushie boosters stick on their autos (quite often, gas-guzzling, Osama-orgasming SUVs) to let the rest of us know that they stand with George Jr. Well, this was the parody sort of W sticker. Quite clever some of them are! The one that I saw on this day read "Woe", but I've also seen "WTF?" and, of course, the classic "Wrong!"

So, my lunch-time walk provides me with fresh air, exercise, and fodder for thought! Go walkabout sometime, yourself! :J

Gentrify my Neighborhood... Please!

2006-08-23T20:28:00.000-04:00

I read today a great article in The Onion with which I very much identified. Sometimes I Feel Like I'm The Only One Trying To Gentrify This Neighborhood, done in classic Onion style, nearly could've been written about my neighborhood, the West Salem area of Winston-Salem NC. We already have a dog run and a community garden, but there are large swaths quite near to me that you could pick out from their seeming description in this article!

While you're at it, have a look at my favorite Onion article of all time, Rules Grammar Change: English Traditional Replaced To Be New Syntax With from 12 March 1997, which strongly appeals to the linguist in me. A friend also pointed out the me the frighteningly prophetic Bush: 'Our Long National Nightmare Of Peace And Prosperity Is Finally Over' from 17 January 2001. Yikes!

Enjoy! :J

Investing in the Future

2006-08-22T21:45:00.000-04:00

I've been a fan of investing for a few years now and have a few alms stashed here and there in several of the common acronym accounts (IRA, 401-K, SEP, 403-B, CD, etc). However, you won't find any information in this entry about dividend reinvestment, mutual funds, ETFs, or short selling. (I will, however, recommend that you read Your Money or Your Life: Transforming Your Relationship with Money and Achieving Financial Independence by Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin.) The topic here is a different kind of investment.

Over the past few weeks, I've invested a few hundred dollars in my career future, registering for the LSAT (the Law School Admissions Test) and an LSAT preparation class. A variety of events, both at work and at home, have led me to examine my goals and the direction of my life and career. I considered a few different career-change options, including technical writing and project management, but a serendipitous conversation with my attorney during a meeting to revise my estate plans led me to consider a career in the law. Trusts, estate, and tax law seem to be a good match for my talents, skills, and abilities, so I decided to apply to law school. I've talked to several friends who are attorneys, read several books on law school and careers in the law, and have set the process in motion for anticipated enrollment in Fall 2007.

Just today, I invested a considerable sum in a different type of vehicle -- an airplane, or, part of one. This is not a business investment, but rather a personal investment. Specifically, I bought a ticket to Manila, where my boyfriend, Chris, is temporarily assigned for work. Our relationship had blossomed and been growing for about five months when he left for Manila on 15 July for what was originally a two-month assignment, but which has extended to a four-month assignment. Being apart has been more difficult than either of us imagined, so given the positive direction in which we were and still are headed, I've determined that this investment vehicle is likely to yield increasing dividends for many years to come.

My divorce late last year and uncertainties at work earlier this year have put me at the crossroads of a challenge and an opportunity. I don't remember where, but I read earlier today a "quote" attributed to the infamous Yogi Berra -- "When you come to a fork in the road, take it!" :J

Saturday Morning History Lesson

2006-07-22T20:00:00.000-04:00

I stayed up a bit late last night, so you can imagine how I felt when I was awakened this morning (Saturday) at 8 AM by Pepper's barking and then by someone ringing the door bell. I rose from bed and saw a tall, older man through the front door shade. I knew that he couldn't see me and I wasn't about to answer the door under such circumstances, so I went to use the bathroom and to put in my eye-drops. The door bell rang a second time and then a third. I decided that this person needed a little jarring, so I opened the window next to the front door, sat down on the blanket chest in my underwear with my bed-head and asked, "What can I do for you, sir?"

"My name's Calvin Wyatt and I grew up in this house; my father built it when I was two years old in 1928. I wanted to ask you if I could take a picture because I didn't want you to see me creeping around out here and wonder what was going on."

I told him that, of course, he was welcomed to take a picture and that I'd love to have him come in and talk for a while. I threw on some clothes, put on a pot of coffee, fed the animals, and let him in. For about two hours, we chatted and walked about the house. He remarked several times on how little had changed in the house while so much had changed in the neighbourhood. He said that his father died in 1965 and his mother moved to an assisted-living center in the early 1970s, so the house was unoccupied until his mother died in the late 1980s. Calvin and his brother, William, sold the house the next year. I picked up the story there. I knew from doing deed research that the Wyatts sold the house in 1988 to a lesbian couple, who sold it to another lesbian couple (Gloria and Melinda) in 1995, who sold it in 2001 to the womon (Ellen) from whom I bought the house in 2003. The lesbian couples who lived here took great care of the house and preserved much of its original character. (The house has its original sash-weighted windows, wood floors, wood siding, and scroll-work rafter tails. The kitchen and bathroom have been renovated, but the work was done sensitively.)

Our conversation was very enlightening. Mr Wyatt pointed out where the original, wood-fired stove was installed in the kitchen before they replaced it with a kerosene-fired stove. He described how my laundry room was once an open porch on which their ice box stood. In the basement, he pointed out to me the former locations of a wood-burning stove, water heater, washing machine, wash sink, and coal conveyor. He also remembers the basement floor being dirt until his family cemented over half of it and reminisced about the brothers' cutting trees from the woods behind the house (which I had believed was once an alley-way) and building cabins in which to camp in the basement. In the back yard, he pointed out to me where his mother had several rock gardens, as well as the location of their chicken coop, vegetable garden, apple tree, and plum tree. He described watching his grandpa build the garage (which has never had doors). He confirmed that the roof was always asphalt shingles and was never tin or slate. The most revealing tidbit was finding out that my den addition was built in 1950, not in the early 1990s as I had previously suspected.

Mr Wyatt told me about his family's roots in Wilkes County. His parents moved to Winston-Salem, where his dad, William Lundy Wyatt (1893-1965), worked for RJ Reynolds Tobacco Co at their Bailey Power Plant at the corner of Fourth St and Patterson Ave NE from the 1920s to 1960. RJR generated their own electricity for their cigarette-making operations and generated enough surplus to power more of Winston-Salem than Duke Power, our local electric utility. His mother, Etta (1901-1993) was a home-maker. The family attended Salem Baptist Church (where his dad also taught Sunday school) for many years before transferring to First Baptist Church.

Etta and William Sr had three sons, William Larkin Wyatt (1919-2002), Calvin Wyatt (born 1926), and Herbert Gray Wyatt (1928-1965). The three brothers attended the Granville School (now Granville Place retirement residence, which I can see from my back door) and RJ Reynolds High School. William Jr and Calvin attended Davidson College, while Herbert attended Salem College and was the first man to graduate from the still-"all-female" institution. All three sons were teachers. William Jr taugh Latin and History at Virginia Episcopal School (VES) in Lynchburg and eventually became its Head Master. Calvin taught sciences at VES before taking a job with GE and moving to Florida in 1957. Herbert taught music at a military school in Front Royal VA before moving to another school near the Virginia coast and passing away at an early age.

Calvin had a paper route for both the morning (Journal) and afternoon (Sentinel) newspapers; in the summers he also carried peanuts that a neighbour roasted at night and distributed them to vending stations along his route. He rose at 4 AM and walked to the Salem College Library, where his route began, traded a newspaper for a doughnut at the original Krispy Kreme on Salem Square, continued as far as Patterson Ave at the far corner of downtown, then finished his route at Fourth and Broad Sts NW. He then walked home, got his books, and walked to RJ Reynolds High School. At the end of the school day, he walked home and then walked his afternoon paper route. Those familiar with Winston-Salem will know that this is no small accomplishment and will wonder how he hadn't walked his legs down to nubs by the time he'd finished high school. (At one point, he mentioned that he'd had a knee replacement, so there you go.)

As we walked about the house and the yard, I could tell that all sorts of memories were running through Mr Wyatt's head. He didn't get emotional, but he did seem thoroughly pleased that his childhood home is still much the place that he remembered and that its current occupant and guardian enjoys and appreciates it as much as he once did. :J

Comings and Goings

2006-07-14T20:00:00.000-04:00

My life has been very much in flux for the past couple of weeks with friends and family coming and going on bases both permanent and temporary.

First, the comings. My cousin, Kristin, has moved back to North Carolina after a year in Boston (after having over-wintered there and found the New England winter not to her liking) and settled right here in Winston-Salem! We haven't hooked up yet, but I look forward to hanging out with her often. My cousin, Natalie, is expecting a brand new baby boy any day now. My friend, Donna, is returning to North Carolina from Tacoma and I might make part of the journey with her.

Now, for the goings.

My ex, Jeff, moved out at the end of June. He was supposed to stay put for the rest of this year, but his dream job came available in Richmond and his skills, talents, and knowledge made him an obivous choice for the position -- an archivist of historic preservation documents. Our last 24 hours together were, predictably, quite intense and included a heated discussion and emotional fare-well wishes. It was very hard on Jeff to say good-bye to the animals (and I flatter myself to think to me, too). I got choked up saying good-bye to his parents, my former mother- and father-in-law, but it was difficult to finally see Jeff go, too, as much as I thought I was ready for the day. I realised recently that being a good husband and looking after Jeff provided a feast for my ego and watching him leave, I felt oddly like an eagle parent watch its eaglet jump from the nest for the last time. We've communicated almost daily since Jeff moved, either by phone, e-mail, or chat and he's doing quite well.

Finally, and more recently, I said goodbye to my boyfriend just yesterday morning as I dropped him off at the airport for a two-month work assignment in the Philippines. I'd known for months that the day was coming, I helped him with many of his preparations, and I'm looking after some of his affairs while he's away; nevertheless, it was an emotional event to watch him go through security and round the corner to the gate and I sniffled a bit as I trudged back to the car. Twenty-four hours later, he called to tell me that he'd arrived safely after an uneventful flight and dash through customs.

Several friends have told me that I'm welcome to call and to visit if I'm feeling lonely. Truth be told, part of me has been looking forward to this solitude for an opportunity to process all that has happened in my personal life this year. I need to remember who I am and what are my tastes and make my house my own space; I need to reaccustom myself to look within for some of the things to which I used to look to another; and I need to commune with God and sort out what direction I my life will take from here. :J

Pet Peeves

2006-06-22T20:00:00.000-04:00

I've been ill this week, having had a sore throat through most of Fathers' Day weekend and been diagnosed with tonsilitis on Monday. Between the sore throat, painful swallowing, and generally feeling bad, I've focused a bit on negative things, including some of my pet peeves.

Language (grammar and spelling) is one area in which I'm quite a snob. I realise and accept that languages (grammar as much as vocabulary) change over time, but our languages have rules for a reason: so that we can express ourselves clearly and concisely to one another. (Fine, call me a prescriptivist; I wear the label proudly.) I'll skip my opinions on stylistics and even the routine rants about such pedestrian errors as subject-verb disagreement, verb tense confusion, and double negatives and get right to the things that just befuddle me.

Attaching unnecessary prepositions to the ends of sentences: "Where are you at?"
Misusing punctuation: there's so much to say here, I'll just be brief and cry "woe the dignity of the hyphen and semi-colon!"
Misusing the apostrophe for pluralisation ("There are several lady's in the shop." and "Be sure to visit 'Antique's of Reidsville'!") and when indicating possession ("Cox's Harley-Davidson" where "Cox' H-D" would suffice or "Lois's party" instead of "Lois' party"). Yes, 'Antique's of Reidsville' and 'Cox's Harley-Davidson' are real businesses that prominently display these blunders on signs, the latter with its name engraved in stone!
Confusing homophones: there/their, your/you're, to/two/too.
Abusing the subjunctive: saying "I wish that I was..." instead of "I wish that I were..." or "I wish that I would've done so and so" instead of "I wish that I had done so and so."
Worst of all, being down-right sloppy: writing "should of" in place of "should've".

Driving is another arena that I find frustrating. I have a 40-minute commute, half of which is on a freeway. Others' driving habits shouldn't amaze or shock me at this point, since I've been a driver for more than half of my life, but I still can't help but get annoyed, frustrated, and sometimes even angry at behaviour on the roads.

Poking along in the passing (left) lane, especially when the travel (centre or right) lane is wide open and, correspondingly, passing in the merge (right) lane when the passing lane is open.
Failing to signal.
Weaving in and out of traffic -- be patient and wait your turn!
Sneaking through a yellow light at the last minute when traffic is already backed-up, thereby blocking the cross street -- that's just selfish and mean.
Parking in the fire lane directly outside of a shop. This is just the worst driving sin (though perhaps not technically driving) around and the apex of laziness!

Of course, much of this is just my opinion and I'm sure that some will disagree and others will latch onto the "snob" moniker that I applied to myself earlier, but I just think that the world would be a nicer place and that things would operate much more smoothly if we all just paused to think about the real messages that we send to others with what we say and do. :J

A Bearish Day

2006-06-14T20:00:00.000-04:00

Today started out kinda crappy, but things have gotten a bit better as the day has gone on.

I knew yesterday evening that I'd be needing to refuel soon, so I began scouting fuel stations for the best prices. I saw a couple of stations that were offering diesel for $2.899 per gallon, but I didn't think that I wanted to pay that much. Sure, fuel is still cheap in the United States compared with many other places (and expensive compared to some oil-rich states that subsidise fuel sales), but I thought that I could find diesel for a nickel or a dime less elsewhere, so I drove on past the point of the fuel light coming on and finally HAD to refuel this morning.

I awoke this morning to a steady rain from one of the feeder bands of tropical storm Alberto and quickly resolved myself to refueling in the rain, but this was just a harbinger of the morning that I was about to have. I stopped in Kernersville at one of the places where I often refuel (an Exxon on NC-66 near I-40) and was immediately struck by two sights, the first being the price ($2.939 per gallon; sure, they claim that it's premium diesel, but there's no cetane rating visible) and the second being the hand-lettered sign that had appeared since my last stop here that read "Diesel please pre-pay inside." Grrr.

I pulled out the umbrella and trudged into the shop, waited for the clerk to stroll from the back of the store to help me, and told her that I wanted $20 diesel. Sure, my car could've held $40, but I was displeased with this store, so I'd decided to give them a minimal amount of my business (even forgetting for a moment that almost no diesel pump has a pay-at-the-pump card-swipe option). As she was processing my transaction, she pressed a button on an intercom and said, "your pump's on; you can start pumping". I looked outside and saw all of the pumps unoccupied except the diesel pump next to where I'd parked. "I thought that we had to pre-pay for diesel," I challenged her. "Oh, he's OK; I know him." Grrr.

I returned to my car, filled the tank half-way, and drove away. Back on I-40, the traffic was moving at the speed limit (as opposed to the normal 10-15 miles per hour above the limit) due to the rain. Of course, this was in the passing (left-most) lane, while the travel (centre) lane was relatively empty. I gritted my teeth and prepared to pass the slow-pokes on the right (which I am loathe to do, but sometimes one has to). As I pulled along-side the slow-pokes, they sped up slightly so that just before I had clearance to get back into the left lane, I came face-to-tail with a FedEx truck, so I had to slow back down and get back behind the slow-pokes. Grrr.

At this point, I began banging my steering wheel and muttering obscenities to myself. I determined that I would pass these nincompoops eventually, no matter what, but at that moment, something clicked in my head. I noticed that the rain hadn't slackened at all during my entire drive, there had been plentiful brakes-tapping for most of the way, and the road was crowded with rush-hour traffic. I decided that I'd better calm down and said a little prayer to make it stick. A few minutes later, I arrived safely in the parking garage at work. Yay!

On the way into my building, I struggled with my belongings and dumped a good bit of my coffee onto the paper bag containing my lunch and into my closed umbrella. Grrr.

So, I was in a foul mood when I arrived at work. Fortunately, my colleagues were in good spirits and we chatted amiably for a few minutes before I sat down and got to work. For several weeks, I've been working on a difficult project that's made me quite discouraged at times, so I've been having trouble staying motivated. I worked on and finished another smaller project that still required a bit of brain power, so I felt quite accomplished as the day wound down. Yay!

I didn't have any car-poolers this morning, so I drove alone. Knowing this, my sweetie, Chris, asked me if I'd like to have dinner together after work and we feasted on fried seafood at Libby Hill. Yay! Then we went back to his place and I helped him to set up his wireless network. Yay!

So, this bearish day that started out meriting several "grrrs" finally turned bullish. Yay! :J

Lisa and Kelly's Wedding

2006-06-01T20:00:00.000-04:00

I travelled with my friend, Jeff, over last weekend to DC's northern Virginia suburbs to participate in the nuptials of our mutual friends, Lisa and Kelly. Some might recall our travelling to Tappahannock VA around the end of April for Lisa's bridal shower.

Jeff and Lisa were classmates during their undergrad days at WVU. I met her at the wedding of another of their mutual WVU classmates (Sherry) in Charleston WV in 1998. At that time, Lisa was thinking about her career plans; we talked about her interests, her education, and her previous jobs and I eventually convinced her to come to library school at UNCG, where she and Jeff ended up being classmates again! I became quite close with Lisa during her five or so years in NC. I got to know Kelly during his time in NC, too, and was sad to see them move back to the DC area.

When Kelly finally proposed marriage after a six-year courtship, Lisa asked me to be a part of their wedding, acting as Master of Ceremonies, a glorified logistics person and wrangler of flowers and caterers. Jeff was one of her bridal attendants, which resulted in quizzical looks from a very few. I found little strange in that arrangement, since I was a bridal attendant for my friend, Donna, at her wedding in Kansas in 1994.

It was a fun weekend spent catching up with old friends, making new friends (Hiya, Debbie, Corky, Molly, and Shane!), and enjoying good food and drink. (Lisa is every bit as much of a foodie as am I.) The whole affair was very elegant and classy while also being simple and uncomplicated -- not extravagant. Have a look at some photos of the occasion in my Flickr account and enjoy! :J

Granny's Song

2006-05-30T20:00:00.000-04:00

Music is often a significant component of my family get-togethers, as a look at some of the photos in my Flickr account will tell you. My Pops plays fiddle and there are also guitar, piano, and harmonica players among us. (I have nothing about which to brag in this regard, as I've never attempted to develop any musical talents.) A recent family get-together was no exception and included a song that's becoming a standard at such events, Granny's Song by Sheila Kay Adams, a North Carolina story-teller and folk musician. I have reproduced here the lyrics with their author's permission to do so. Believe me; there are few dry eyes by the final chords of this song! :J

Granny's Song

In my mind I see her there,
on the porch sitting in her chair,
with her arms thrown wide to welcome me,
as I walked up the road past her cherry tree.

And with blue-veined hands she taught me how
to plant new corn, milk the cow
and she taught me songs of ancient lore
about kings and queens and love and war.

Chorus:
So Granny get your stick and come walk with me
we'll go digging ginseng in our dreams.
And we'll climb the hillsides over home
as we close our eyes and set our thoughts to roam.
And my heart, my soul, my spirit flies
as I walk with Granny one more time.

"Granny loves you," she says to me,
and "the very best of life is free"
as we rolled our britches to our knees
to wade in the stream beneath the buckeye trees.

And what priceless gifts she gave to me;
the love, the songs, were all for free.
The thoughts I carry in my heart
she helped to plant there from the start.

Repeat Chorus

Well, she reached back down through all those years
and touched my heart and calmed my fears.
She is my Granny and my best friend;
my love for her will never end.

And she takes my little ones on her knee.
She tells them tales she once told me.
With a gentle touch she wipes their brow
as she says, "come walk with Granny now."

Repeat Chorus

Tough Neighbourhood

2006-05-29T20:00:00.000-04:00

A conversation this past weekend reminded me in a totally random way of something that happened in my neighbourhood last autumn (2005).

I returned home one evening to find my neighbour's van parked in front of my house, which seemed odd. As I neared the van, I noticed that it appeared to have been hit by another car, so I knocked on my neighbour's door (I'll call her Suraia.) to tell her. Suraia and her husband came out and confirmed that they were aware of the accident and that they were at home when it happened, then they told me the whole tale.

Suraia and her husband were at home, minding their own business, when they heard a great thud and crash in front of their house that drew them outside. They came out to find that a large car had crashed into the back of their van as it was parked on the street in front of their house, pushing it 50 feet (15 metres) or so in front of my house. Mind you, Suraia lives in the second house on the street, so the driver of the car that hit her van somehow built up enough speed in the 160 feet (50 metres) after he rounded the corner to knock her van this distance. Further inspection revealed that the impact had dislodged the drinks holder from its slot in the dash and jettisoned it into the back seat!

Not only had the van been hit with such force and pushed this distance, but also the offending vehicle was locked to the van by its bumper and the driver had the car in reverse, trying to dislodge himself. Suraia's husband ran into the street to stop the driver, but he escaped, though not before Suraia noted his plate number.

Several minutes later, Suraia had called the police and was sharing her outrage with another neighbour, when a twenty-something approached her in a large SUV. He said that he'd seen the accident, had pursued the offending driver, and had noted his plate number. Suraia was glad for this witness to come forward and she asked him to stay and make a statement to the police. He declined to speak to the police and said that he'd tell only her the plate number for $50! This outraged her further and brought out the Bronx in her, so she told the witness to be gone in the probably the least diplomatic way possible.

As the witness drove away, Suraia noted his plate number and handed it over to the police when they arrived. The police confirmed that they'd caught up with the driver that crashed into her van at an adult establishment on a nearby thoroughfare and had already taken him into custody. The witness' offer to sell the offending driver's plate number to Suraia was news to the police, but they recounted to Suraia how the witness had already extorted $30 from the driver to NOT reveal his plate number!

This tale has a mostly happy ending, as the police were presumably able to catch and prosecute both the driver and the extorting witness. Suraia's van was repaired, though it's not quite the same, and she and her husband enjoyed driving a rented Lexus during the month that their van was in the repair shop.

I'll wrap up this entry by sharing a few interesting side-notes to this story. First, A friend from out-of-state was visiting me the week before the accident with Suraia's van and had parked his expensive, European sedan in the street in front of my house, directly in what was to be the line of fire. More recently, a womon fleeing the police rounded the corner at the opposite end of my street and crashed into another neighbour's car, pushing it into their front yard and slightly damaging their carport; that was the twelfth car that those neighbours had had damaged while parked in front of their house; the police suspect that she crashed in order to effect her escape on foot and it worked because they didn't catch her! Since these two incidents, I've noticed the police aggressively stopping and ticketing drivers on my street. Ah, life in a city. :J

Customer Disservice

2006-05-16T20:00:00.000-04:00

Following is an e-mail message that I sent to some friends just after Christmas 2005, chronicling a misadventure at one of my favourite restaurants, Captain D's (admittedly, a guilty pleasure). The nearest Captain D's is a 45-60 minute drive from my house, so I seized the opportunity to drop in as I was passing it on the way home from an out-of-town trip on which my dog, Pepper, had accompanied me. Enjoy! :J

From : Justin
Sent : Monday, 26 December 2005, 22:36
Subject : Captain D's

So, here's my adventure in customer disservice.

I had parked the car; walked, fed, and watered Pepper; and used the bathroom myself when I stepped up to place my order. There was a very large and round fellow (I'll call him "Tiny".) taking drive-through orders and dressed a bit manager-ish and a fellow with long braids, cooking (I'll call him "Rasta".). A skinny, middle-aged guy in a satin jacket was taking walk-up orders; the name on my receipt is "George" and is printed next to the time of my order, 11:45 AM, above the amount of my purchase, $8.50. The restaurant wasn't busy the whole time that I was there; there was never more than one coherent group of customers waiting to place an order.

George took my order and told me my total, then was distracted by another customer who walked up, plate in hand, to report that his fish was a bit over-done. "Over-done?" I thought, "where does he think he is, Bert's!?" [Bert's is an awesome seafood restaurant in Greensboro.] So, George took the guy's fish into the kitchen and handed it to Rasta, who shook his head with a mixture of disbelief, frustration, and ennui that seemed to ask the world in general "why couldn't McDonald's have called me back first?"

George reappeared and reassured the other customer, THEN turned to take my money and make change. He said that it'd be a moment because the crab had to cook for 4 minutes, so he'd call my number if I wanted to go ahead and take a seat. I slid into a booth near the earlier complainant and his family, which happened to be next to a window from which I could watch Pepper and my car.

I sipped satisfiedly on my tea for five minutes or so, anticipating the taste sensation that awaited me. I sipped for five more minutes. Pepper was sitting erect in the back seat, looking toward the door of the restaurant. Five minutes more passed. The complainant, who had since received his recooked fish, looked in my direction and said, "you'd better go and check on your order; I think they forgot you." I nodded and mumbled a casual agreement and proceeded to the counter.

George greeted me as cheerfully as before, "Welcome to Captain D's! Can I take your order?"

"I'd like to check on my order... number 9."

"Order number 9!" George exclaimed happily as he spun to check the order-up ledge, the order wheels, and, finally, a stick file on the counter below, out-of-sight of the kitchen. "Oh, shoot," he whispered. He took a slip of paper from the spindle and shoved it under one of the springs of the order wheel, which he then turned to face the kitchen. He leaned in and looked into the kitchen. Rasta was nowhere to be found, so George made his way into the kitchen himself. I saw him open a refrigerator and throw some things into a fry basket. Tiny and Rasta then came through the front door of the restaurant, presumably returning from a break. George and Rasta exchanged some words; Tiny seemed unconcerned and resumed leisurely filling drive-through orders.

Taking all of this in, my eye casually landed on a stack of laminated, pink slips of paper that said "If an order has been waiting more than four minutes, place this card behind it on the wheel. LATE." I decided to stand and wait at the counter instead of returning to my seat.

Rasta caught my eye from the kitchen and assured me that my order would be ready without haste. I nodded.

George returned from the kitchen and said that my order wouldn't be another moment. I thanked him.

At about this time, a short fellow with a sparse moustache, dingy high-top trainers, a mullet, and a trucker's cap walked in -- very much a north-eastern Guilford redneck. I noticed that his threadbare jeans fit his behind quite well, so I'll call him Levi. I thought that he looked like the sort that would typically eat at Captain D's, until I realised my own purpose for being in the restaurant. George offered to take Levi's order; Levi said that he'd like an application. This half-way flustered George, perhaps because he couldn't find "application" on his cash register menu keypad. He looked under the counter, then went into the kitchen for a moment. He returned to report that the person who accepted applications wasn't in today, so Levi would have to return later. Levi left, looking dejected.

Rasta caught my eye from the kitchen and said "two seconds!" I nodded.

George briefly turned to Rasta, then turned to look at me and said, "two minutes, sir." I thanked him.

"It'll be fresh!" exclaimed Rasta.

Somewhere between two seconds and two minutes later, George presented me with my tray and wished me a good meal. Rasta waved at me from the kitchen.

I returned to my seat and ate. The complainant and his family commented on how long I'd had to wait and asked me if the manager had comped my meal. "You shoulda got that for free!" I replied that he'd not; there were tisks all around.

The fish was plenty hot and the shrimp were tasty enough. I noticed that the deviled crab was made with artificial krab and stuffed into a real shell. The fries, though not cold, were well on their way cooling off. I finished eating and hurried out of the restaurant, but not before I got big smiles, waves, and farewells from George and Rasta. "Hurry back!"

After all my anticipation, the whole experience was very disappointing. The next time that I crave such a meal, I'll stick to Long John Silver's, which is actually located in my same city.

Happenings Update

2006-05-11T20:00:00.000-04:00

Things have been chugging along well enough lately. Things are going well between Chris and me in our budding relationship; Jeff and I are getting along well; the finances are holding steady (knock, knock); and though work is still a stressor, that's even taken a turn for the better!

Chris and I have rather gotten into bowling. Since he and I have been dating, we've gone bowling on more occasions than I ever did in my entire life before. I bought a pair of bowling shoes and there's talk of joining a league in the fall, so I suppose that I'm officially a bowler now! It's fun and rather like writing application code -- you examine the problem, determine a suitable solution, set up everything (your code or your throw), see where the pins fall, and try again.

Speaking of writing code, I recently received some very good news at work. My manager was exploring an opportunity to make a career move back to his hometown in another state; all of my colleagues (not just those in my department) were concerned about how this would affect our organisation in general and my department in particular. My department is a great team; we work well together; and we enjoy an innovative environment -- all important factors for an IT shop that has as diverse an array of responsibilities as we (Web site management, applications development, hardware and software deployment and support, server management, vendor relations, user account and permissions management, data integrity, reports management, etc). Many of us in the department were making contingency plans in case of our manager's departure and many others in the organisation were freaking out about the possibility of losing their in-house support and development. We'd been on these pins and needles for about four months when our manager called us together earlier this week to announce that he'd reached an agreement to stay! Yay! This has been one of the top two stressors in my life this year, so I'm very glad to have it resolved in the best possible way.

An on-line friend from Iowa (Fredrick) will be in town next week, visiting another of his on-line friends. I've invited them to dinner at my house on next Saturday (20 May), so I have a menu to plan, groceries to buy, a house to clean, and food to cook. I'm quite looking forward to this, as it'll be the first time that I'll have met Fredrick, as well as the first dinner party that I'll throw basically on my own. I do enjoy entertaining and I've been told that I'm a pretty good cook. My ex and I made a good team in this respect; several guests at a bridal shower that we attended recently asked us if we were caterers. I'll be interested to see how well I do on my own.

There are many changes still ahead, but I think that I'm holding my own for now and maybe even making a bit of progress. :J

If only I had an answer, Redux

2006-04-27T20:00:00.000-04:00

I attended this afternoon a memorial service for my friend, Ruth, who took her own life this past weekend. I'm not aware if Ruth were Quaker, but she worked at a Quaker college, and her colleagues there organised an unprogrammed, Quaker-style memorial service to remember her.

(Allow me to explain parenthetically what that last bit means. Quakers are the Religious Society of Friends and call themselves "Friends". Friends don't go to Mass or worship in a church, they attend Meeting for Worship in a Meeting House. Traditional Quaker worship is "unprogrammed" -- unstructured compared to the liturgies and orders of worship of other Christian denominations. Once the congregation is assembled and seated facing one another, congregants take turns rising and speaking as the Spirit moves them. Otherwise, there is silence. Each person waits for the "still, small voice of God" to move him or her to speak. An entire hour could pass without anyone being moved to say anything, but Friends find significance in this, too. When the elders of the congregation feel a consensus that all hearts and minds are pure and clear, they lead the congregation in shaking hands before they disperse. "Programmed" meetings also exist and follow an order of worship similar to that of Baptists or Methodists. BBC have a good, concise explanation of Quaker Worship, while the Wikipedia entry on the Religious Society of Friends is quite detailed and discusses programmed and unprogrammed worship, as well as Quaker memorial services and other traditions and beliefs.)

So, Ruth's memorial service was like a communal eulogy. The campus ministry coordinator rose and made a few comments to orient those unfamiliar with unprogrammed meeting. A colleague of Ruth's read a prepared biographical statement about Ruth that would become part of the college record. Many others spoke about their memories of Ruth or the last time they saw Ruth, shared funny anecdotes about Ruth, and described the ways in which Ruth had touched each life, however briefly.

The landlady of the house that Ruth and her husband rented stood and explained that she and her husband made it their policy to avoid meddling and to stay out of their tennants' personal business. She expressed her regret for that policy in this case, explaining that she wished that she "had been more nosy" and "asked questions" and gotten to know this intriguing person of whom our comments where weaving a tapestry.

The most telling comments were those of Ruth's mother, who described Ruth as someone for whom life was never easy and for whom every day was like a tight-rope walk. She explicitly mentioned Ruth's dyslexia and left me believing that Ruth did, indeed, struggle with burdens other than her obvious tremours without mentioning what they might've been. She said that she thought that Ruth had finally made it (past some unmentioned hurdle) and would mellow and take life a bit more easily once she reached middle-age. She said that she was "curiously" at peace with her daughter's death and that she wished that same peace for Ruth now, as well as for all of us. Yes, we were all crying by the time that she finished speaking. For a mother to stand and declare with loving words to a room full of strangers that she is at peace with her daughter's death after less than a week makes a powerful statement to those that hear it.

The whole experience was quite cathartic for everyone involved and I must believe that it was especially so for her parents, who had travelled from New Mexico to North Carolina to lay their daughter to rest and comfort their son-in-law and who likely had little knowledge of Ruth's interactions with the 250 or so people in attendance.

I still don't have a clear answer about why Ruth chose to leave us, but with the peace that Ruth's mother shared with us, I can get by without one. :J

If only I had an answer

2006-04-25T20:00:00.000-04:00

I recently found out that an acquaintance, Ruth, took her own life this past Saturday. I'd worked closely with her a few years ago and we kept in touch at professional events, through mutual colleagues, and at estate sales around town. Though I didn't know her extremely well, her death has quite upset me. I just cannot make sense of the timing, much less the reasoning of her taking her own life.

Ruth's star was bright. Still in her 30s, she was attractive, educated, highly-regarded personally and professionally, and making a name for heself in her chosen profession, which she taught part-time at a local college. She had lived all over Europe and had settled down with a loving and uncomplicated man. Ruth stayed busy, but not stressed. She always looked put together, but not contrived. She always had an interesting story to tell, but didn't boast.

Judging from outward appearances, the only thing plaguing Ruth was a neurological condition that caused her to quake as if she'd drunk far too much coffee. I'm not aware if she struggled with depression, chronic pain, or other unapparent demons that are often to blame for driving people to seek a final solution to their problems.

I wish that I knew what was going through Ruth's head when...

she collected homework from her class last week and promised to have it graded for this week's final class meeting
she made plans to meet a friend at the dog park on Sunday
she chatted with a mutual colleague last week about attending a conference together next month
she kissed her husband goodbye on Saturday morning as he left for an out-of-town errand

Just an acquaintance, Ruth would've made a wonderful and interesting friend. I wish that I'd known her better for my own benefit and, perhaps, for hers. :J

High Country Get-Away

2006-04-17T20:00:00.000-04:00

Chris treated me to a get-away in the High Country this past weekend (13-16 April). He rented a cabin near West Jefferson, which we used as a home base from which to explore the area. We spent Thursday driving, settling into our accomodations, and orienting ourselves to the area; we made our way through an antique mall and visited the only cheese factory in NC. Friday found us breaking fast at Shatley Springs Inn in Crumpler before spending the rest of the day hiking at Stone Mountain State Park near Traphill and ending up with dinner at Todd Mercantile in Todd. On Saturday, we wandered about Valle Crucis and visited Mast General Store before back-tracking into Boone for lunch at Angelica's (a fantastic vegetarian restaurant). Chris showed me some of his old stomping grounds from his student days at Appalachian State U and we visited the Moses H Cone mansion on the Blue Ridge Parkway, then headed "home" to finish the day with dinner at the Mountain Music Jamboree in Glendale Springs. We sadly packed our things on Sunday and made our way down US-321 to Chris' grandma's house in Patterson (near Lenoir) for Easter dinner with some of his family before heading home for good.

I put a couple of photos of myself from the weekend in my Friendster profile, but more are available in my Flickr account; both are linked in My Favorite Links on this page. Enjoy! :J

Semantics of a Marriage

2006-04-09T20:00:00.000-04:00

I had an interesting conversation with my maternal grandma ("Mamaw") earlier today. Our conversation had come around to my recent divorce and I referred to my ex as my "husband". Mamaw's reaction caused me to briefly wonder whether I had previously used this terminology with her.

"Husband?!?" she blurted, sounding a bit as if she were recoiling from the telephone.

"Sure," I affirmed. "We were married and he was my husband." I was trying to figure out why this should be news to her, given that my ex and I missed our eleventh anniversary by only several weeks and that he had attended more than one holiday gathering at her home. I then recalled that I had, indeed, once described myself to her as "going about the business of being a good husband".

"Well, if he was your husband, then who was the wife?!?" She sounded... indignant? incredulous? revolted? It was a nauseating mixture of surprise and disgust garnished with a sprig of anger.

I explained that we were both husbands because we were both men; there was no wife involved. This seemed rather elementary to me and I was a bit afraid that I was insulting her intelligence.

"I just can't understand that... two husbands? It doesn't make sense."

Her last comment shocked me perhaps more than her original enquiry. I was married to this man for nearly eleven years. Mamaw and the rest of my family had long since accepted him as a member of the family. She could accept that we were together as a couple, but she couldn't wrap her head around the concept that we were each other's husband? How silly is this -- to get caught up in a game of semantics at this point? I was the one feeling incredulous now. Where was she going with this line of enquiry? To use an allegory, did she want to know who took out the trash and who baked cakes for the church bazaar?

Her reaction struck me as hopelessly old-fashioned. Normally, I would rather expect this from someone nearing 80 years of age, but I knew all too well how far this womon had come in her thinking... or, at least, I thought that I did. Did her thinking reveal deeply-seated sexist or homophobic attitudes? Did this reveal contempt for the general model of my marriage or for her traditional role in an opposite-gender marriage?

Did my reaction betray me similarly? Am I so insulted by potentially being cast as a "wife" that our conversation should so get up my nose? In thinking about that, I suppose that the real insult for me in being called a "wife" would be the implication that I'd given up part of my masculinity and/or my manhood, a notion which I categorically reject for myself as well as for anyone with whom I am or have been involved, regardless of the domestic or sexual dynamics of our relationship.

However, this entry isn't a debate about masculinity and gender roles in same-gender relationships. It's just a way for me to vent about a comment that Mamaw made to me and to invite your commentary on the topic (as always). :J

The Frugue

2006-04-06T20:00:00.000-04:00

I am proud to consider myself a frugal individual -- one who economises on most of my resources, not just money, though everything seems to come back to that most liquid of assets. I believe that frugality is important for making the most of the limited amount of resources that I personally possess and for conserving the limited resources that exist on our planet so that others might enjoy something closer to their fair share of our planet's bounty.

One way that I do this is through my shopping habits. I'll look for anything on E-Bay. I've bought books, many clothes, shoes, crockery, car parts, tools, and endless gifts from other individuals from around the world on E-Bay. In doing so, I'm reusing something that's likely still perfectly good rather than buying something new (though much new merchanside sells on E-Bay, too), paying less for it than I would if it were new, and sending a few dollars to an individual to whom that money probably means more than if I were to spend it at a corporate store. Shops run by Goodwill, the Salvation Army, Urban Ministry (Greensboro), the Rescue Mission (Winston-Salem), Habitat for Humanity, and endless other non-profits, charities, and churches are also good places to hunt for reusable bargains.

When you're finished with something, don't just throw it away and let it sit in a land-fill or be incinerated. Sell the best things on E-Bay, put the rest in a yard sale, and donate the remainder to a charity shop! You'll help someone to find a bargain and put a few dollars back into your own pocket!

Let's think about grocery shopping for just a moment. I often start my shopping at Big Lots. They have some incredible bargains, even on what would normally be pricey food (gourmet and organic items). Monthly trips to Costco help me to stock up cheaply on items of which I use a lot (cereals, soy milk, canned tuna, coffee, fish, produce, paper products, etc), but be sure to compare prices, as such "wholesale" clubs aren't always the cheapest! Store brands almost always deliver better value over national brands, even with a coupon.

Don't forget to read those nutrition labels carefully! Cheap food is often made with cheap ingredients and the few dollars that you save now will be spent down the road on health care costs associated with consuming such trash.

Hydrogenated oils simultaneously raise bad cholesterol and actively lower good cholesterol.
High fructose corn syrup encourages obesity; just eat sugar, especially turbinado, demerrara, and organic.
Enriched flour is little more than empty calories. It's called "enriched" because manufacturers have to put back the nutrients that the bleaching process strips out. On the other hand, "fortified" indicates that additional good stuff has been added. It's better to eat whole grains instead; whole wheat is fine, but spelt, millet, and qinoa are far better!

I don't often use coupons. I was once a loyal devotee of the clip-'n'-save method, until I thought about what I was buying with coupons and found that it was often something that I wouldn't normally buy. Even if it were, the store brand was usually cheaper. I now see coupons for what they are, a marketing device.

However, there are many things that money can't buy. Though it might not seem like it on that flight from New York to Kuala Lumpur, this is a small planet and, at the moment, it's the only one that we have. Our mother Earth gives freely of many of her resources, but they're not endless. Someday, the oil, coal, natural gas, and, perhaps, even the air and water will run out. Money can't buy more of any of these things. There are over six-and-a-half billion people on this planet with whom we have to share this space and limited resources. Not only is the rate at which industrialised nations use oil irresponsible from the perspective of its being a finite resource, but the way that we use it damages the planet on which we depend for life. Sure, the planet can heal itself if left alone, but that takes time and money can't buy time.

When you're next on the hunt for a new car, look for one with a smaller engine that will get better gas mileage. Better yet, buy a gasoline-electric hybrid (as much as 70 MPG) or a diesel (as much as 48 MPG) car and steer clear of the Hummer dealership!

So, the next time that you're have to go out for groceries or are in the mood to do a bit of recreational shopping, start at the thrift store, charity shop, or E-Bay. You'll find a bargain or two, keep a few dollars in your pocket until another day, help a worthy cause, and take a bite out of conspicuous consumerism. :J

Leaping Back into Faith

2006-03-30T20:00:00.000-05:00

As a child, I wasn't wild about church. I saw little use in a sixth iteration of getting out of bed to go someplace to be taught something while being intermittently picked on by my peers. Worse yet, this time 'round it was on the weekend and done while wearing uncomfortable clothes! I rebelled and called an end to the seemingly pointless ritual around the age of 13. I got back into church at university, this time attending a nearby Catholic church (quite a turn for someone raised Baptist). The novelty of the Catholic ceremony eventually wore off and I moved to Saint Mary's Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) in Greensboro (where I lived at the time). (The UFMCC is a Christian denomination with a special ministry to the queer community.)

I continued to attend church for some time after I found myself married, but my husband wasn't a church-goer and things came to a point where I'd rather stay at home and enjoy his company than go to church. I'd been a lapsed church-goer for several years when we divorced just before New Year 2006. Seeing a chance for a fresh start in multiple facets of my life, I made a New Year resolution to return to church and have found doing so to be a blessing. I've visited several churches of different denominations and am quite enjoying the experience.

My first foray back into faith was a visit in late January to MCC of Winston-Salem. It was comforting to experience a liturgy with which I was familiar, to be greeted warmly and sincerely, and to even see some familiar faces and catch up with some old acquaintances. The worship felt reverent and sincere and the pastor is a former Baptist minister. My boyfriend, Chris, and I have since visited MCC W-S together and will likely do so many more times.

In late January, I had lunch on separate occasions with two long-time friends (another New Year resolution) and found that they both attended Epiphany Presbyterian Chruch in Greensboro, a new, small, welcoming congregation. ("Welcoming" is a code word to us queer folk meaning that we'll be accepted as we are.) One of those long-time friends plays the piano during worship at Epiphany on alternating Sundays and has since become my boyfriend! (Yep, Chris.) I've visited this church several times and quite like it -- the pastor, the congregation, and the music (though I'm biased on that last point). The sermons are quite thought-provoking, interactive, and unlike anything that I'd experienced previously.

Wanting to visit my paternal grandmother one weekend, I drove to Mocksville and attended Jericho Church of Christ, where Granny and Pops are members. I was struck by the quantity of music in the service -- all a capella -- as well as by the strong out-reach to the local Latino community. I could tell that my family has a long history at this church, as it seemed that every second person that I met was a cousin, aunt, or uncle of some sort.

Chris and I visited Wake Forest Baptist Church in Winston-Salem, which meets in Wait Chapel on the campus of Wake Forest University. We each have friends and acquaintances that attend WFBC and we knew that it's a member of The Association of Welcoming and Affirming Baptists, a group of congregations that actively and affirmatively welcome queer folk into their midst. The music was great and the congregation was very friendly, so I look forward to visiting again.

The most moving experience of my church-going life took place in early March when Chris and I visited Pullen Memorial Baptist Chruch in Raleigh. He attended Pullen when he lived in Raleigh for a short while a few years ago and still misses the church. I'd heard of Pullen before; they were kicked out of the Southern Baptist Convention in the early 1990s when they blessed the union of a male couple. That Sunday at Pullen with Chris was an absolutely magical experience! I felt emotional through the whole service and had to concentrate in order to be able to sing without getting choked up. I had never felt anything like I felt that day in any church that I had ever attended. I was simply overwhelmed by love and acceptance and awe-struck that this was happening to me in a Baptist church, the tradition in which I was raised. Chris and I sat with my arm across his shoulder the whole time and I didn't feel any sort of discomfort -- no one so much as cast a sideways glance in our direction. The church was full of all sorts of families and many, many young people, as well. Of course, I felt acceptance at MCC, but I expected it there. And sure, queer folks were evident in every corner at Pullen and there was other diversity, too, but this is by-and-large a main-stream congregation that accepted us even though they didn't have to. This was the "real world" in which we were worshipping, as Chris put it, not a constructed enclave as at MCC (though such enclaves certainly serve a purpose). As the congregation filed out after the service, Chris introduced me to the pastor, she welcomed me, and it was all that I could do to eek out "It was a blessing." without crying. We walked the couple of blocks back to his car in silence, got in, then I sat and cried for fifteen minutes, overwhelmed by what I'd just experienced. "Such a big difference a little bit of love and acceptance can make," I commented.

I'm not sure where my religious journey will take me; such roads are often windy and stony. However, I look forward to visiting more churches, returning to those where I have felt the spirit's strong presence, and continuing to develop my faith and feed my soul. I encourage all of you to find a faith community where you feel welcomed, accepted, and loved in which your spirit will grow and flourish. :J

My Family

2006-03-25T20:00:00.000-05:00

My family life is rather like the brain of an epileptic whose affliction has been treated with split-brain therapy... the two hemispheres have been irreparably severed, cutting off communication between the two halves.

(Though tangential to the actual topic at hand, here's an interesting tidbit from my linguistics class that's relevant to the above metaphor. Because language is processed in the left hemisphere and the brain's hemispheres control the opposite side of the body, a split-brain person can look at an object with his or her left eye and know what the object is, but cannot speak its name because the impulses from the left eye, processed in the right hemisphere, cannot travel to the language centre in the left hemisphere for articulation. Please feel free to correct me if I'm mistaken here.)

My parents ("Mum" and "Pops") divorced when I was 3 years old and sparred in court over questions of visitation and child support off-and-on until I was 19. Raised by the maternal side of my family, I recently reconnected with Pops and his side of my family after more than two decades away from them. (I have adult cousins whom I never previously knew because they were born during my absence.) I first considered reconnecting with my paternals in 1998 at a friend's wedding. The bride's step-mother had been estranged from her father for many years, had reconnected with him some years earlier, and heartily encouraged me to do likewise, saying that the effort would be well worth it. A couple of years later, a friend's parents were visiting from the Midwest for the first time in many years; they knew Mum and Pops when they were still married -- knew them first-hand as individual people, not as caricatures drawn in one's mind from others' recollections. They told me that I should follow my gut instinct regarding contacting Pops; if I felt that I wanted to, then I should go for it.

I've spent the last three or so years becoming reacquainted with Pops, my paternal grandmother ("Granny"), my step-mom, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins. The verdict? I have fallen completely in love with all of them. They are invariably intelligent, open, kind-hearted, and wear their hearts on their sleeves. They love me and one another, value their friendships with one another, and relish spending time with one another. None has asked why I was absent for so long, cast any blame for my absense, questioned why I didn't return to the fold sooner, or put forth any sentiment other than that they are all invariably glad and thankful that I have come back into their lives and allowed them into mine. Granny flatters me, saying that God has answered one of her greatest prayers.

In the early stages of our renewed contact, Pops let me know that he was already aware that I was gay (having heard through the grapevine) and that he accepted that. Being who I am and thinking as I do, I introduced my husband at the time to my family and made certain that there would be a place for him in the family along-side of me. None ever made a snide remark, cast a side-ways glance (I apologise now for over-using that apt phrase.), or even raised an eye-brow at his physical presence at family functions or his implied presence by my mention of him in normal conversation. In fact, I felt that they treated him and his role in my life with the same gravity, deference, and respect as they treated their other in-laws.

A popular saying reckons that you can choose your friends, but not your family. I had the rare opportunity to do just that, after a fashion, and am very glad that I chose to reconnect. I extend my eternal gratitude to Jeff, my ex-husband, and Jeannie, my step-mom, for giving me the courage to make that choice and guide me along the path. :J

The Unniversary

2006-03-22T20:00:00.000-05:00

Probably the most significant event (journey, actually) in my life thus far is my eleven-year marriage to a great guy. We met on 23 March 1995 -- a Thursday -- and hit it off from the beginning. That date became our anniversary, of which we celebrated ten happy ones. My marriage ended on 29 December 2005, also a Thursday. (One could easily craft a metaphor of Thor's hammer striking us on the various days, though with opposite effects.)

Tomorrow will be what one might call our "unniversary", what would've been our eleventh anniversary and the beginning of our twelfth year together, but which will be, instead, a day of reflection and, probably, mourning. I'll look back on many happy times, many sad times, times of elation, and times of desperation. (Such is marriage, eh?) I will think of the person that I was and the person that I've become, the influences that he had on me and I on him. Had I not been married for the past eleven years ... where would I be living today? ...what relationships would I have with friends and family? ...what food would I be eating? ...what clothing would I be wearing? ...how would the world look to me? ...would I be in a relationship with someone else? ...would I have had multiple such relationships?

Let me take this opportunity to clarify that I'm gay, so my intimate relationships are with men; they always have been and I feel quite comfortable saying that they always will be. Let me also affirm that I deliberately use the terms "husband", "marriage", "separation", and "divorce" to refer to the various elements of my relationships. Many might take issue with my use of such words that are most often used to refer to opposite-gender relationships and would point out that suitable alternatives exist for describing same-gender relationships. I would counter that words are important tools and that they go far in shaping our perceptions. I do not see my relationships as "alternative" in any way; my marriage to my husband of eleven years carries the same weight in my mind as my former in-laws' marriage of nearly 45 years (and counting) and my maternal grand-parents' marriage of 60+ years (and counting). We relied on each other in the same ways, helped each other in the same ways, were implicated in one another's emotional and financial lives in the same ways, and developed relationships with one another's families in the same ways. Why should I have called my ex my "partner" and referred to our relationship as a "partnership" and the dissolution thereof as a "breakup" when "husband", "marriage", and "divorce" perfectly describe the scenario in which I found myself? Why shouldn't I avail myself of words such as "marriage" and "husband" which accurately and honestly convey the situation to those hearing the words? There was no question in the listener's mind regarding what my ex and I meant to one another or how we lived our lives together. Whether or not they were comfortable with that knowledge is another matter and not of great concern to me.

I treasured my marriage when I was married. I treasure my experience being married and my ex now that we're divorced. Tomorrow, I'll look back and reflect on eleven years of my life with a mixture of emotions, but also look forward to the future -- to my life with a new gem to treasure -- with optimism. :J

In the beginning...

2006-03-20T20:00:00.000-05:00

I've thought for a lot time about creating an on-line journal, the sort of thing that many now call a "Web log" or "blog". I was originally inspired by the well-known Justin's Life, published for many years by one Justin Clouse of Kentucky, Boston, Los Angeles, and San Diego. (BTW, what a cutie, eh? Hairy and smart? Woof!) I kept a journal for many years as a child and teen and thought that publishing such a work on-line was an excellent way to process my thoughts and feelings while letting far-flung friends and family keep up with what's going on in my life.

Problem is, I just never got 'round to doing anything about it. I was paralysed by fear of that crippling disease that seems to befall most bloggers -- apathy, writer's block, ennui. Call it what you will, it's just the dread of the blank page, the anticipation of coming up with something fresh and insightful, the intimidation of knowing that you've built a base of readers (however large or small) who are waiting for you to pour your words of wisdom onto the page so that they might savour your thoughts and ideas, but disappointing them instead.

Today, I decided to no longer give in to that fear, to create my blog, and to just see where this adventure takes me. Wanna come along? :J