North Maple Rag

All weekend, I had plans to get sleep, but friends and parties and fate kept intervening. Oh well, it was totally worth it. The conference was interesting and engaging, but the real highlight of the weekend was hanging out with old friends. I met some cool new people, too, mostly away from the conference which, if nothing else, demostrates my aversion to "networking." Also, the conference attracted a fair number of my least favorite "Washington" types -- people who like talking about politics more than they like the work of politics (to be fair, it's a trait most commonly found in students and very young professionals).

Aside from the conference, I went to a few fun parties (including a somewhat bizarre, but surprisingly fun foam party where I ran into people I knew from high school, college internships, my old job, and election-day volunteering in Florida), had drinks at a couple of my favorite bars, caught up with former co-workers on the Hill, and had some had some great half-drunk and drowsy late-night conversations. Yesterday, after leaving the conference, I explored part of Silver Spring with friends and sat around watching really dumb tv for a few hours. Before arriving at Dulles, I went to Wegmans, the greatest grocery store in the world. It was just as magnificent as I'd remembered and I even carted some garlic bread and hummus back to Berkeley.

My flight got back very early this morning and I'm still a little dazed. This was the first time I've ever flown cross-county and it's alarming how small the country seems when you cross it in five hours. I kind of understand why people who grew up on the coasts think of the middle as nothing more than "flyover country." I don't like it, but I understand it.

I'm also a little dazed by DC. It's kind of amazing how different the city felt to me than it did a year ago. In all likelihood, I've changed more than it has, but at times it felt like a completely new city. Anyway, it's still a great place and I'm not really any farther along in deciding whether I want to live there or here in California when I finish school. Oh well, I can procrastinate on the decision for a while longer.

Just typing that sentence makes me smile. First, it sounds like a line out of a movie and second, I love DC. I know I've written about DC before, but I feel compelled to again. I was asked during my practice interview last week about the biggest challenge I'd ever faced and I answered that the scariest thing I've ever done was moving to DC after college. It was also, however, hands down, the most exciting.

During an eighth grade trip to Washington, I had decided that that was where I wanted to live. At the age of 22, I landed at Dulles with two suitcases, a deposit on a dorm room for the summer, and 18 hours before my first "real" job was to start.

And for the next year, I was exactly where I wanted to be and doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. After that, I was applying to law school and thinking a lot about what was coming next in my life. That first year, though, was filled with a kind of right time, right place magic that I hope I find again, but expect I won't. I'm not saying I won't be that excited or happy again, just that I'm not that young anymore. In the words of Joan Didion, "one of the mixed blessings of being twenty and twenty-one and even twenty-three is the conviction that nothing like this, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, has ever happened to anyone before."

That's exactly how I felt and it's why I like going back to DC. I like to remember that time and that feeling. I get a little taste of it every time I take the escalator up from the Metro at Union Station and see the Senate Buildings in the distance, every time I sit with friends in a crowded restaurant or bar and every time I wander through Georgetown to my favorite hole-in-the-wall bookstore. So I'm off, ostensibly to attend the American Constitution Society's national conference, but really just to enjoy my home away from home.

I currently have 30 interviews scheduled during early interview week. On the one hand, that's great. I would hope that I could get an offer out of 30 interviews. On the other hand, I have 30 interviews in one week. That's 30 rounds of the same questions, the same answers, and the same fake smiles.

Okay, that's all the complaining I'm going to do about the number of interviews. This really is a great thing. Thank you, NYU, for providing this job search shortcut. I just know that I've got some work to do in order to get through those 30 interviews.

Last week, I had my EIW practice interview in San Francisco (NYU requires everyone who participates in EIW to do one) and other than some giving me some helpful hints about answering the tough "Why should we believe that you really want to live in California?" questions, the general gist of my interviewer's comments was that I need to do more self-promotion. She even gave me a list of the things that she thought were great about me.

You may not know this, but Midwesterns are, by our nature, modest. We're nice, we wish each other well, we celebrate success, but we don't want to hear you brag and we're generally loathe to do it ourselves. In fact, in South Dakota we even get a little uncomfortable about promoting about some of our best products. I generally feel like an asshat just explaining why I chose NYU over more local schools. So, the thought of having to "sell" myself for a week makes we want to vomit.

Anyway, as all the EIW hoopla's been going on, law review and journal invites were sent out. I'd forgotten how certain law school things have the power to invoke a sort of paranoid fear in me despite the fact that they're not really all that important in, you know, the grand scheme of things. It turned out fine, though. I didn't make law review, but I got my second choice, so I'm happy.

I was talking with a classmate who shares my dislike of the overwhelming nature of law school this afternoon and she summed it all up in what I'm calling the Quote of the Week:

"I want to be all mid-western - get married and have some babies, and hang out at the Mall of America or something."

I find the prospect of "mock meteorology" advertising to be simultaneously frightening and intriguing. I think I've maybe mentioned before how I'd like to have Google implanted into the palm of my hand (sure, I could just get a PDA, but what fun would that be?).

but I'm still posting it here. According to Forbes, Sioux Falls is the best small metro area in the country for business and careers. Rapid City is just a few spots back and seven of the top ten are in the Upper Midwest. Good job, plains states!

As in, I have too much to do and not enough time in which to finish it. Between finishing my writing obligations for work, visiting family, meeting up with friends who are in town, getting ready for school (and EIW), driving back to SoDak with my mom, and moving back to New York, the next few weeks are booked. Unfortunately, all I really want to do is read books.*

I'm excited to read the new Harry Potter, but I've had to vow to myself (and others) that I won't purchase it until next Wednesday, immediately prior to my flight to DC. A couple of nights ago at Target, I actually picked it up and carried it to the cash register before my willpower kicked in and I set it down.

The work project is going well: I feel like I've finally hit my stride and know enough about the topic to make some moderately insightful contributions. For the next two weeks, I've promised to "go crazy" with the writing. I need to have working drafts of all my sections complete before I leave. It's not that I don't think I have enough time, it's more that I still don't really know how
to write a law review article. Oh well.


* Slouching Toward Bethlehem by Joan Didion is great California-y reading. Also, the last essay, "Goodbye to All That" is just fantastic. Iron and Silk by Mark Salzman is a surprisingly funny (and heartwarming, actually) collection of stories about two years that the author spent teaching English in China. The last book I read about an American in China was kind of grim; this one provides a nice contrast.

Me and the roommates got in one last weekend of California exploring, this time on the Central Coast. We first drove to Carmel and Monterey, both of which have their charms. Carmel made me wish I had more money and Monterey, despite being kind of gross-touristy was cool with all its Steinbeck connections. We spent most of the late afternoon and evening in Santa Cruz, first wandering around trying to find me a t-shirt displaying a banana slug, then roaming through this book store. We finished the night with some of the staff from the summer camp where SeaAPea used to work. Had ice cream at Marianne's (love it, crazy-good flavors) and then snuck a 12-pack of Bud Light into our cabin at the camp. For most of the evening, I’d been feeling kind of old and jaded (hanging out with college kids will do that to you), but then, smuggling contraband beer into a “dry” camp made me feel 19 again. We actually bought the cans of Bud Light simply because they’d make less noise than bottles of better beer.

All in all, a great day. So great, in fact, I’ve left out a few details. I’m sort of wiped, though, and paragraphs require too much effort. Here are the other highlights.

• I thought I lost my car keys in Carmel and then, after frantic searching, found them exactly where I’d left them: in the front pocket of my purse (natch).
• Met the most pompous 25-year-old college senior, ever. (A couple of hints for his future conversations with girls: No, we do not want to hear a 10-minute explanation of your senior thesis. No, we don’t want to hear about the challenges of applying to grad school when “only two universities in the world have programs” in what you want to study. No, we do not want to know how your confidence that you’re “saved” informs your answers to dumb hypothetical questions.).
• Saw a couple banana slugs.
• Saw a sea lion.
• Took more beach pictures (I think I might have to create some kind of panorama of the California coast. I seem to be photographing all of it this summer.).
• Slept in a cabin with no less than 200 dead termites on the floor (bearable, since I finally got to see the site of so many of SeaAPea and Hillsity’s stories).

1. How to sail.
2. How to flyfish (cheers, Norman Maclean).
3. Latin.
4. How to play the harmonica.
5. How to drive a stick shift.
6. How to compile a mass mailing without wanting to claw my eyes out.
   

It turning out to be a week of international cuisine. Monday night, a friend from high school invited me and my roommates to a potluck dinner with a "tapas & comfort food" theme. The meal featured everythign from ceviche and gazpacho to South Dakota-inspired chocolate and butterscotch bars.

In addition, the roommates and I are taking turns cooking this week. Tuesday night, KVB made chicken satay. Last night, SeaAPea served up homemade falafel and on Friday I'm making capellini con gamberetti (really that's just shrimp and angel hair pasta). Having real meals more than once a week is something I haven't done since my Augustana meal plan ran out and it's a little bit addictive. I'm thinking I might have to start a supper club of some sort at NYU. Cooking's just more fun when you get to share.

This upcoming weekend, me and the roomies are headed to Carmel, Monterey, and Santa Cruz, the next weekend I'm visiting family in Sacramento, the weekend after that, I'll be in DC and then the next weekend my mom arrives to start the long drive home. I'd say the summer's gone quickly, but it hasn't, really. It's felt like two months. I like that. On the East Coast, my time seems to disappear in alarmingly large chunks. One minute it's September and the next it's Thanksgiving. My California experience, however, has happened in real time and I've enjoyed virtually all of it. Even if I don't end up living out here, I'm so glad to have tried it.

Anyway, we went back to the brewery Friday night. Drake's is one of my favorite East Bay discoveries (granted, I didn't really discover it, my friends here have been going there for years). I'm hopeful that I'll be able to arrange a callback interview this fall on a Friday just so I can make it to another happy hour. People there are starting to recognize me and that's as close as I'm going to get to feeling like a local out here (this summer, at least).

Saturday, we shopped. There was a fire at the North Face store about a week ago and they had to dramatically mark down all the stuff that had "smoke damage." None of it was really hurt, but it was crazy cheap. Ahhh, I love a bargain. Grilled out on our patio Saturday night. I think I've finally found the perfect guacamole recipe. It's been two great months of experimenting, but I think this last batch is as good as I'm gonna get.

The plan for Sunday was San Francisco sightseeing, but once we got to Land's End, it was just too clear to head back into the city. Instead, we drove down Route 1, first to the Moss Beach Distillery and Half Moon Bay. The Distillery is great; it used to be a speakeasy and it has a resident ghost. That plus some pretty spectacular views and Pyramid on tap make for a great afternoon rest stop. The weekend ended with laundry and church. Both quiet, but needed.

My childhood summers were filled with two things: summer recreational activities (softball games, swimming lessons, junior zookeeping, and the like) and books. Piles and piles of books. I'd ride my bike to the city library every few days and upon arriving back home, I'd spread out the books I'd chose and try to decide which needed to be read first. It was a great feeling to know that as soon as I'd finished one, I'd have another, equally exciting book waiting in my room. Often, my patience wore out and I'd manage to start all of the books before finishing any one of them. I loved being in the middle of five stories at once.

During the past few years, my reading's been much more deliberate. I often buy my books now. Buying offers the advantage of being able to underline and take notes in the margins, but it also generally means that I'm less experimental with what I read. If I'm going to spend money on a book, I want at least slight confidence that I'll enjoy it.

Anyway, I went to the Berkeley Public Library yesterday and checked out five books, all very different but each equally promising. Upon returning home, I spread them out on my bed and was rewarded with that childhood feeling of anticipation and excitement. The pile has changed a lot since gradeschool (fewer mysteries, more non-fiction), but it's nice to know that reading can still be just as fun as it was then. I was warned last year that law school would kill my bookish habits. Not true!

I've now started four of the books. Two are excellent. The first is Fraud by David Rakoff. It's a collection of autobiographical essays and it's laugh-out-loud funny. The writing is smart and self-effacing in a way that makes me want to be Rakoff's friend. The second is A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean. The movie's been one of my favorites for years, but for some unknown reason, I've never read the book. It's fantastic, better than the movie (natch). The writing is so good, I sometimes have to read it out loud. On top of all that, the release of the new Harry Potter is only days away. My cup runneth over and all that jazz.

Okay, I admit it, I've been out of the TV loop for a while now. I've watched virtually no tv this summer, although, I should admit that I did watch last night's Grand Finale of Dancing With The Stars (yes, I cringed as I typed that). And, during the school year, I stuck pretty religiously to just watching a couple favorite shows each week.

So, this show that I'd not heard about until today may be something everyone else has known about for months. It's on FX and it's called 30 Days and it was created by Morgan Spurlock (of Super Size Me fame). It's fascinating; basically, they have people try a completely different life for 30 days. Spurlock and his wife, for example tried living on minimum wage in the Midwest for their month. Check out the website, it's making me wish I had cable.

Oh, and Spurlock's blog has a statistic that I think is amazing: only 3 out of every 20 Americans has a passport. 15%. That's it. Incredible.

I'm a little out of my depths, but keeping my head above water. I guess. I think I'm going to have to start pulling some late nights in order to accomplish what I want. That's okay, though. Working late's alright as long as I care about the work and I'm starting to think my project does have some significance.

Anyway, in only tangentally related news, there's an interesting article in the NY Times about the Supreme Court and judicial activism (if you're interested in all that jazz).

The weekend was great. We rolled out of Berkeley on Friday and had suprisingly smooth sailing all the way to San Diego. Even those of us who'd never been to L.A. before were cringing as we approached it, but then, to our surprise, the cars were sparse and all moving swiftly. We arrived at my great-aunt and uncle's house to find thoughtful notes, maps and beach supplies had been scattered throughout the rooms for us. My great-aunt also left out a big photo album that contained photos spanning almost a century. There were pictures of her and my grandfather and their siblings as children on pages not too far from gradeschool pictures of me and my brother. It was a surprise to feel so at home in a place I'd never been before (no, Augie people, I'm not trying to paraphrase Bill Janklow).

We explored La Jolla, Coronado Island (site of a fabled wedding in my family), and Pacific Beach on Saturday. Our Pacific Beach excursion was improved by the generosity of a bar owning second-cousin (who endeared himself to me forever by starting our conversation by telling me how much he'd loved my grandpa). We also discovered carne asada fries that night. Best. Drunk. Food. Ever.

On Sunday, we hit up Mission Beach and spent the better part of the day enjoying the sand and sun. That evening, we befriended the owners of an awesome Vietnamese sandwich shop and explored the Gaslamp district of downtown San Diego.

After cleaning up and assembling a thank you gift for our hosts, we hit the road and once again had pretty fantastic traffic luck. Things got a little sticky around L.A. and we saw a horrendous car fire somewhere in the Central Valley (which, except for the awful heat, the mountains on the side, and the corporate farms, is a lot like South Dakota). We got back to Berkeley in time to meet up with some friends, pack up some bags with cheese, bread, beer and wine, and hike up in the Berkeley hills to watch the firework displays around the Bay. I'm used to watching fireworks close up, so it was a novel experience to have a panoramic view of several firework displays. The night ended as any good Independence Day should: around the kitchen table, joking about cocaine.

UPDATE: I hate, hate, hate it when people don't credit their sources and I'm guilty of that now. My friends and I were directed to nearly all of the good food we had in San Diego by Neo Tokyo Times. He has provided helpful links in the comments section for anyone who might want to know more about the carne asada fries or the Vietnamese sandwiches.

I think something happens to Midwesterners when we visit sunny beaches that allows us to forget all the things that are beautiful about the middle of the country. Somehow, the minute our bare feet touch warm sand, all we can remember about home is the bleakness of frigid, grey winters. Memories of warm summer evenings and fresh spring days are wiped out as we squint through the bright sunlight and breathe in tangy salt air. It's no wonder so many Midwesterns stay. It's no wonder I'll probably be back in Southern California next summer.

I love the Fourth of July. Always have. My hometown is one of those smallish Midwestern towns that takes pride in showing it's patriotism and community spirit. That being the case, the first 22 Independence Days of my life were filled with small town parades, family picnics, duck races, and carnival games.

Oh, and fireworks. Lots and lots of fireworks. For some reason I don't entirely understand, my hometown puts on a pretty impressive fireworks display every year (Maybe it's because Lew's Fireworks is headquartered in Watertown? Maybe there's a discount?) Also, my brother is something of a fireworks artist. He can take the rinky-dinkiest of bottle rockets and make it into something spectacular (imagine a tube that allows you to shoot the bottle rocket into a body of water, such as a lake or pond, then imagine the way that water would light up when the bottle rocket explodes in it). Anwyay, fireworks were always my favorite part of the Fourth.

Then I moved to DC, where the fireworks display became one of my favorite events of the year. Each of the past three summers, I've watched the DC firewords display from a balcony at the Captiol. Take a girl from South Dakota, give her a job she loves and then tell her that she gets what is arguably one of the best seats in town for the Capitol concert and fireworks show and you've got a happy girl. On top of that, I was able to bring friends and family along each year.

Taking my parents last year was one of the highlights of my time in DC (it was the first Fourth that my dad have ever spent outside of Watertown). We listened to the concert, watched the fireworks, and then wandered through the Capitol. I've written before about how much I love the Capitol building so I'll just say now that I love it just as much when it's quiet and dark as I do when it's bright and bustling with people. At night, you'll come around a corner in the Senate corridors and find windows with incredible views of the glowing dome. Also, as a history dork, I found it easy to imagine the building's past when I was walking down a dark, worn marble staircase or peeking through the shadows of the Statuary Hall.

Anyway, I've been looking forward to this weekend's roadtrip for a while now and I'm sure San Diego will be great. It's not my typical Fourth of July (it looks to be a little short on both the fireworks and the national monuments), but beaches, sunshine, and burritos are always good. Have a fun, safe weekend wherever you are and go see some fireworks if you can.