There are times in every gal's life when the right path is not always evident. Do I buy that pair of $325.00 Michael Kors shoes on my student loans, or do I not? (Not, P.S.). Do I go out on a date with someone who is completely not my style? Do I walk back into a relationship that may, or may not, be what I'm looking for? Do I attend the nuptuals of someone who I can't reconcile my feelings for?
Whatever question we wrestle with, the decision is never arrived at before extensive consultations with the troop of gals. The Michael Kors decision was made, at the better advice of H, after an hour walking around the Barney's in DC admiring the beauty of my feet, staring at my (very full) credit cards, going back and forth at the cost/use ratio of the shoes, and then finally forcing H to take my hand and drag me out of the store, swearing she would not let me back in for the shoes for at least...one month. I never bought the shoes, and my (again, very full) shoe closet is none the wiser or emptier.
But those are the easier decisions we make with the consultation of our girlfriends. The harder ones hit at the core of who we are as people, adults, women, individuals. And no matter what the take is of the group, they are often largely independent decisions that are arrived at from a lot of soul searching.
I've been fairly content, as of late. I saw that movie everyone has been raving about, you know, the one about teenage pregnancy called Juno, and I loved it, as, like, everyone in America has. But there's this one line that's particularly striking to me. Juno's pregnant, and her dad says "I didn't think you were this kind of girl, Juno" (or something like that) and she responds "I don't really think I know what kind of girl I am".
I loved that. And empathized with it, thinking back on age 16. And the craziest thing was I identified with it, at age 28.
I wonder at what point you begin to know what kind of person you are, and if it varies for everyone. I see my friend M, who has a baby and husband and house identifying who she is through that and many other things. I see my cousin J continuing to define herself not through the negative but through this amazing empire she continues to create and dominate throughout the U.S. And it's inspiring. But I don't know if I know what kind of girl I am yet.
What do we define ourselves based on? Surely not relationships, but what? Every day I stare at a wedding invitation from one of my very best friends, an invitation to a joyous occasion, and I can't bring myself to fill it out, because I know my feelings for this person are not wholly reconciled. I continue to shove it farther and farther under my pile of unread mail, hoping it will disappear. But it doesn't. I mean, I know what my response is, it's just a matter of filling it out. My friend C said she would fill it out and seal it up and send it for me, and I think I might take her up on the offer. But I am left with asking myself again, if I can't do this, what kind of person am I?
I guess I'll start by what I know, and maybe we can narrow it down from there:
1. I know I'm a great friend.
2. I think I'm a fairly passable sibling.
3. I am a humanitarian.
4. I am, again, passably intelligent.
5. I am loved by more people than I can count on 20 hands.
6. I know I have great friends.
7. I have the most amazing family (both immediate and extended) that a gal could dream of.
8. I am alive.
In the grand scheme of life, that list of eight is not so bad. But does it tell what kind of person I am? Not really. There's this great song I've been listening to by Regina Spektor called "Hotel Song" and it's been my contemplative rhyme, as of late (ignore the references to cocaine). I've been thinking a lot about who I am, and I have yet to come to a solid conclusion. So I guess like Juno, I don't really know what kind of a girl I am. But I suppose life is about continuing to discover that.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Saturday, January 26, 2008
The Kindness of Strangers
I am realizing quickly, this semester, how many remarkably obstacles there are in representing an asylum seeker/immigration law. It's fascinating (and often infuriating) and I already believe that I am becoming a better lawyer through the process that our clinic forces us to go through.
One of the greatest challenges I've faced is language issues with our client. My client speaks Kinyarwandan. A little French. A smattering of Swahili. And basic English. It's not easy to find translators, and it can be quite frustrating when you realize (as some of my colleagues have) that they have clients who are really only fluent in a very obscure local language--and that the current translator they have brought has some sort of conflict of interest that will make it difficult to continue to use said translator.
Language barriers aren't new to me--having lived in a village where only about 3000 people in the world spoke out dialect of the language, it can be hugely frustrating. To be in a country where you can't find anyone who can speak the dialect can kill an asylum case. It's a serious issue, and we've all been learning how to deal with it.
When I came home from Peace Corps I joined a couple of the PC listserves. Mali Peace Corps, Peace Corps general, whatever was out there. I have never checked the threads, until I actually needed to post something myself.
This week I have posted 3 dire requests for translators--for my client once and for two other classmates later. The response I've gotten is incredible. I've been put in touch with Nweh, Mina and Kinyarwandan speakers all over the US. I've received words of wisdom, advice, encouragement from people I have never met, but who have been PCVs as well. And I've never been more grateful for the outpouring of kindness from strangers.
In the capitol city, there's a saying: If you throw a stone you'll actually hit two returned peace corps volunteers: the stone will hit one and ricochet off them and end up hitting another. Everyone in this town, it seems, has done Peace Corps. It's not novel or really that interesting at all here. But let me tell you, it has been the most remarkable experience having all of these people who don't know anything about me, step forward and offer their help, or friend's names. All because we each made the decision to spend just over 2 years as volunteers all over the world.
I've often said, and I will continue to say, I would not trade those two years for anything in the world. And frankly, I would do it again in an equally as challenging community. And the experience I've had this week solidifies it even more. Having a group of strangers move to act for my (and my client's) benefit has been profound. And I am grateful to each and every one of them. I think I'll start checking the threads from this point on. You never know when you'll be able to help someone else, and I would hate to miss an opportunity to return some of the kindness I've received from strangers.
One of the greatest challenges I've faced is language issues with our client. My client speaks Kinyarwandan. A little French. A smattering of Swahili. And basic English. It's not easy to find translators, and it can be quite frustrating when you realize (as some of my colleagues have) that they have clients who are really only fluent in a very obscure local language--and that the current translator they have brought has some sort of conflict of interest that will make it difficult to continue to use said translator.
Language barriers aren't new to me--having lived in a village where only about 3000 people in the world spoke out dialect of the language, it can be hugely frustrating. To be in a country where you can't find anyone who can speak the dialect can kill an asylum case. It's a serious issue, and we've all been learning how to deal with it.
When I came home from Peace Corps I joined a couple of the PC listserves. Mali Peace Corps, Peace Corps general, whatever was out there. I have never checked the threads, until I actually needed to post something myself.
This week I have posted 3 dire requests for translators--for my client once and for two other classmates later. The response I've gotten is incredible. I've been put in touch with Nweh, Mina and Kinyarwandan speakers all over the US. I've received words of wisdom, advice, encouragement from people I have never met, but who have been PCVs as well. And I've never been more grateful for the outpouring of kindness from strangers.
In the capitol city, there's a saying: If you throw a stone you'll actually hit two returned peace corps volunteers: the stone will hit one and ricochet off them and end up hitting another. Everyone in this town, it seems, has done Peace Corps. It's not novel or really that interesting at all here. But let me tell you, it has been the most remarkable experience having all of these people who don't know anything about me, step forward and offer their help, or friend's names. All because we each made the decision to spend just over 2 years as volunteers all over the world.
I've often said, and I will continue to say, I would not trade those two years for anything in the world. And frankly, I would do it again in an equally as challenging community. And the experience I've had this week solidifies it even more. Having a group of strangers move to act for my (and my client's) benefit has been profound. And I am grateful to each and every one of them. I think I'll start checking the threads from this point on. You never know when you'll be able to help someone else, and I would hate to miss an opportunity to return some of the kindness I've received from strangers.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Thanks, I Think I'll Reserve My Sympathy
I've been greeted with shock in the last 24 hours over my lack of...well...horror...over the death of Heath Ledger. A 28 year old man who had made it big in Hollywood. A man my age, who died in some unknown fashion. A man who had every resource, every outlet, every ability to reach out and get help for whatever demons he was dealing with.
I can't bring myself to apologize for this lack of response right now. I have a hard time watching young Hollywood drink themselves/drug themselves/overindulge themselves to death, all the while having the American public expressing more shock and horror over every emerging celebrity downfall with more emotion than they show toward the emerging situation in say...Darfur. Or Somalia. Or Iraq, to name a few.
What makes it even more difficult to feel great empathy in this situation is the fact that I have 2.5 months to figure how to be an advocate for someone who actually needs empathy and attention. That person being my client. Who fled from Rwanda. Whose entire family was slaughtered. Who is looking to me to help her remain in a country where her life is no longer in danger. Who does not have any other options other than law students fighting tooth and nail for her asylum.
I do feel sadness for the family of Heath Ledger. And for the passing of someone who is as young as he was. But frankly, I cannot emote the same sadness and despair for this person as I do for the 276 people (yes, that's a real number) and their families who were killed, captured or wounded in Iraq in the past three days, or the estimated 500 people killed in Darfur every day, or the 750,000+ people killed in Rwanda in three short months between April and July of 1994.
Does that make me insensitive, perhaps. But I will not apologize for that.
I can't bring myself to apologize for this lack of response right now. I have a hard time watching young Hollywood drink themselves/drug themselves/overindulge themselves to death, all the while having the American public expressing more shock and horror over every emerging celebrity downfall with more emotion than they show toward the emerging situation in say...Darfur. Or Somalia. Or Iraq, to name a few.
What makes it even more difficult to feel great empathy in this situation is the fact that I have 2.5 months to figure how to be an advocate for someone who actually needs empathy and attention. That person being my client. Who fled from Rwanda. Whose entire family was slaughtered. Who is looking to me to help her remain in a country where her life is no longer in danger. Who does not have any other options other than law students fighting tooth and nail for her asylum.
I do feel sadness for the family of Heath Ledger. And for the passing of someone who is as young as he was. But frankly, I cannot emote the same sadness and despair for this person as I do for the 276 people (yes, that's a real number) and their families who were killed, captured or wounded in Iraq in the past three days, or the estimated 500 people killed in Darfur every day, or the 750,000+ people killed in Rwanda in three short months between April and July of 1994.
Does that make me insensitive, perhaps. But I will not apologize for that.
Monday, January 21, 2008
This is Disturbing
So, if anyone follows the gossip blogs as much as I do, then you'll be familiar with the slow morph of Katie Holmes' from cute, nice, Dawsons Creek girl to creepy, zombie like wife of Tom Cruise. I mean, you kind of wonder how anyone has the much power over anyone else, but it's fairly clear she has become some sort of dazed Stepford wife.
But that's not what is truly disturbing. THIS is. It's the Tom Cruise Scientology video that has apparently caused quite a stir, and you can kind of see why. For the majority of the video, and certainly in the first minute or so, he's not even speaking in coherent sentences. Almost like he's possessed.
If you have 8 minutes or so, I highly recommend it. If you've ever wondered where cults start, this is a good place to begin the investigation...
But that's not what is truly disturbing. THIS is. It's the Tom Cruise Scientology video that has apparently caused quite a stir, and you can kind of see why. For the majority of the video, and certainly in the first minute or so, he's not even speaking in coherent sentences. Almost like he's possessed.
If you have 8 minutes or so, I highly recommend it. If you've ever wondered where cults start, this is a good place to begin the investigation...
Monday, January 14, 2008
Bravery
While today is the first day of classes for the semester, I feel like I have been immersed in school much longer because of my clinic, which is not a bad thing. I feel, for the first time in a long time, that I am doing work that I really love and that is truly gratifying--and while my shiny new day planner is already crammed with meetings, appointments, interviews and deadlines, I feel a certain lightness that has been absent for some time.
The last 6 days has been centered around learning about the client and her background, and getting to know my partner with whom I'll be traveling down this path with all semester. The clinic pairs people completely randomly--and with full disclosure of the randomness--and emphasizes that one of the main aspects of this clinic, aside from advocacy, is interpersonal relationship building and management. The director and fellows make no promises that the pairs will become best friends, or have similar personalities or complimentary ones, and they make no apologies in advance for issues that arise in the working relationship. They do stress the necessity of working through, in an honest manner, issues that arise as they arise, all as part of the learning process.
One of the things I admire about this clinic is their openness with the students. They work from a methodology of problem solving, teamwork, creativity and support--a methodology that is not found in most typical law school classes, and one that is not meant to exist. For the first time since beginning law school, there is no competition among groups or individuals--we have a common goal, and that is to achieve the best possible outcome for all of our clients while fulfilling personal goals we set for ourselves at the beginning of the semester. It's unique, and I love it.
My teammate, who I will most likely talk about a lot on here, and I have spent a lot of time together in the past 6 days. We have spent time not only getting to know each other, but getting to know our client and her background through the papers and research we have done. I could not ask for a more fantastic person to work with.
My teammate asked me, a few days ago, "what is bravery". What a question. One of the things I love about her is that we have the same philosophical personalities--we question what is put before us in an innocent and probing manner.
Bravery. It's such a concept, I think. Can any of us begin to understand the gravity of what it means to watch a family, our family, be slaughtered? Can we understand the meaning in fighting to keep our father's and mother's and sister's persecutors in jail? Can we ever begin to feel the weight that is the death of our family?
I gain strength and ambition and true passion from my family. And we are meant to effect some sort of empathy. It's remarkably difficult....and it's our job.
Our client is brave. She is brave beyond remarks. There is stoicism and grace in this world--and to see a woman embrace, on paper those things is humbling. I hope to learn volumes from her, and I think I will..
The last 6 days has been centered around learning about the client and her background, and getting to know my partner with whom I'll be traveling down this path with all semester. The clinic pairs people completely randomly--and with full disclosure of the randomness--and emphasizes that one of the main aspects of this clinic, aside from advocacy, is interpersonal relationship building and management. The director and fellows make no promises that the pairs will become best friends, or have similar personalities or complimentary ones, and they make no apologies in advance for issues that arise in the working relationship. They do stress the necessity of working through, in an honest manner, issues that arise as they arise, all as part of the learning process.
One of the things I admire about this clinic is their openness with the students. They work from a methodology of problem solving, teamwork, creativity and support--a methodology that is not found in most typical law school classes, and one that is not meant to exist. For the first time since beginning law school, there is no competition among groups or individuals--we have a common goal, and that is to achieve the best possible outcome for all of our clients while fulfilling personal goals we set for ourselves at the beginning of the semester. It's unique, and I love it.
My teammate, who I will most likely talk about a lot on here, and I have spent a lot of time together in the past 6 days. We have spent time not only getting to know each other, but getting to know our client and her background through the papers and research we have done. I could not ask for a more fantastic person to work with.
My teammate asked me, a few days ago, "what is bravery". What a question. One of the things I love about her is that we have the same philosophical personalities--we question what is put before us in an innocent and probing manner.
Bravery. It's such a concept, I think. Can any of us begin to understand the gravity of what it means to watch a family, our family, be slaughtered? Can we understand the meaning in fighting to keep our father's and mother's and sister's persecutors in jail? Can we ever begin to feel the weight that is the death of our family?
I gain strength and ambition and true passion from my family. And we are meant to effect some sort of empathy. It's remarkably difficult....and it's our job.
Our client is brave. She is brave beyond remarks. There is stoicism and grace in this world--and to see a woman embrace, on paper those things is humbling. I hope to learn volumes from her, and I think I will..
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Fear
This is the first of many subsequent posts that will focus on the work I am doing this semester in representing my first client, a female asylum seeker from Rwanda. First of all, I assure every reader that what I say in these postings is completely legal--I will not give away any identifying information of my client and these posts will, I expect, focus more on my experiences rather than the gory details of my client. But at times, those might play a part as well. Just wanted to assuage any concerns that I am acting in an unethical manner talking about this. I assure you, I am not, so here we go...
Fear. What is fear? I mean, we can all define it for ourselves. I'm afraid of spiders and heights, and we all have our own individual definitions of what fear is for ourselves. But what does it mean to really fear something? Is every fear equal to every other, simply because it is such an individual emotion? Are there some fears that are fundamental to all of us, that are shared, and thus possibly more weighty than others?
The immediate answer is OF COURSE. My fear of spiders does not equal in weight to someone who is battling cancer to their fear of death. Or to a seeker of asylum who has witnessed atrocities you and I cannot imagine, but that are so indelible in their minds that the mere mention of sex, or rape, or torture or siblings can illicit an emotional response. And if you add to that a continued terrorizing for more than a decade, fear can take on a whole different meaning.
I learned, while in Dadaab, that fear often manifests itself in desperation--desperation to alleviate themselves of the acts that evoke such an emotion. Desperation, in turn, results in doing anything they can to remove themselves from the environment that is the catalyst of such emotion. Doing anything results, often, but not always, in fabrication of details. Fear is a tricky thing, indeed.
I reviewed my client's case file for the first time tonight. The interviews with the Asylum Officer (AO) who denied her asylum claim initially, leading to her placement in my hands. I looked at this initial file, which was thin and which will become thicker and more compelling as the semester moves forward, with a remarkable amount of fear. Here it is, sitting before me, page after page, a client's life. A person's life. A woman's fear. And the true knowledge of the responsibility that has been given to me has begun to sink in.
We all (I hope. Oh good God I hope) know what happened in Rwanda. And if you're sketchy on the details, I encourage you to read "We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families" by Philip Gourevitch--because it is a history that we should all be aware of. Entire families, entire villages being slaughtered. In homes, in town squares. In churches where people looked to their God, their Christian God, for protection. Children who watched their parents and siblings murdered in the most basic and gruesome ways. Governments who sat back and allowed this to happen. Who continue to allow this to happen. This is the history of my client. This is the fear she possesses.
You'd think, on first glance, that this case should be a slam dunk. I mean come on, it's RWANDA for god's sake. But the laws of asylum are complex and they are not friendly, or in favor of those seeking refuge. It's been 13 years since the end of the official genocide, but the fear persists, and for good reason. As we have all seen with the case of Kenya recently, governments are fragile, particularly those that have had a history of adversity. Rwanda is no exception, and the killing and torture and persecution have not ended.
I think fear can be healthy, in certain situations. I think the fear that I have about my upcoming endeavor is absolutely essential, acting as an impetus for me to perform every task to my absolute best ability. So I am not ashamed of it. And it's important to respect fear--while recognizing the many faces it can take.
This will be a battle...but one that I am ready to take on. Because as cheesy as this may sound, for every fear there is truth, it's just a matter of finding it.
Fear. What is fear? I mean, we can all define it for ourselves. I'm afraid of spiders and heights, and we all have our own individual definitions of what fear is for ourselves. But what does it mean to really fear something? Is every fear equal to every other, simply because it is such an individual emotion? Are there some fears that are fundamental to all of us, that are shared, and thus possibly more weighty than others?
The immediate answer is OF COURSE. My fear of spiders does not equal in weight to someone who is battling cancer to their fear of death. Or to a seeker of asylum who has witnessed atrocities you and I cannot imagine, but that are so indelible in their minds that the mere mention of sex, or rape, or torture or siblings can illicit an emotional response. And if you add to that a continued terrorizing for more than a decade, fear can take on a whole different meaning.
I learned, while in Dadaab, that fear often manifests itself in desperation--desperation to alleviate themselves of the acts that evoke such an emotion. Desperation, in turn, results in doing anything they can to remove themselves from the environment that is the catalyst of such emotion. Doing anything results, often, but not always, in fabrication of details. Fear is a tricky thing, indeed.
I reviewed my client's case file for the first time tonight. The interviews with the Asylum Officer (AO) who denied her asylum claim initially, leading to her placement in my hands. I looked at this initial file, which was thin and which will become thicker and more compelling as the semester moves forward, with a remarkable amount of fear. Here it is, sitting before me, page after page, a client's life. A person's life. A woman's fear. And the true knowledge of the responsibility that has been given to me has begun to sink in.
We all (I hope. Oh good God I hope) know what happened in Rwanda. And if you're sketchy on the details, I encourage you to read "We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families" by Philip Gourevitch--because it is a history that we should all be aware of. Entire families, entire villages being slaughtered. In homes, in town squares. In churches where people looked to their God, their Christian God, for protection. Children who watched their parents and siblings murdered in the most basic and gruesome ways. Governments who sat back and allowed this to happen. Who continue to allow this to happen. This is the history of my client. This is the fear she possesses.
You'd think, on first glance, that this case should be a slam dunk. I mean come on, it's RWANDA for god's sake. But the laws of asylum are complex and they are not friendly, or in favor of those seeking refuge. It's been 13 years since the end of the official genocide, but the fear persists, and for good reason. As we have all seen with the case of Kenya recently, governments are fragile, particularly those that have had a history of adversity. Rwanda is no exception, and the killing and torture and persecution have not ended.
I think fear can be healthy, in certain situations. I think the fear that I have about my upcoming endeavor is absolutely essential, acting as an impetus for me to perform every task to my absolute best ability. So I am not ashamed of it. And it's important to respect fear--while recognizing the many faces it can take.
This will be a battle...but one that I am ready to take on. Because as cheesy as this may sound, for every fear there is truth, it's just a matter of finding it.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
WOOHOO!!!
I got assigned my first client today! A woman from Rwanda..
Everything is starting and I'm wonderfully excited!
Everything is starting and I'm wonderfully excited!
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
The Beginning of the End...YAY
I have posted, over the past year and a half, many posts disclosing my reservations about my time in law school. I often wonder how I got into a school as prestigious as my l'il law school. And I often wonder if I deserve to be here. But the bottom line is that I am here, I have tried to make the most of it (in my non-overachiever way). I have kept my eye on the reason why my law school was #1 on my list. Today, I get the chance to begin to represent a client seeking asylum in the US. Their last effort. I am their last chance. This is what it comes down to, in my last 4 months. And I could not be more ecstatic.
I start my final semester tomorrow with my 10 credit clinic orientation. It is a moment that I have worked for fatefully since my parents exposed me to the first instance in realizing the value of humanity. It is a moment of realization of what comes full circle--the work I did in Somalia that has defined who I am as an advocate. It is the moment that I realized I had a calling that does not involve, at least for eternity, reviewing documents in a law firm. It is the moment that I realized I have the ability to impact a life, lives, for a lifetime.
I have struggled with my place in this life--this firm life. And I think I have finally found a place to be. I get to represent an asylum seeker in their last gasp. Their last effort. And I am their advocate.
I learned from my remarkable father the joy that comes from being a champion of people who can't be their own. And it's a quality he's instilled in me since early childhood. We are not meant to judge based on what those less fortunate can afford--we are meant to judge on what is fantastic and significant in all of us. And we do it in an eye that is compassionate.
In a year where I have questioned so much, this is my opportunity to do something great. Wish me luck. The only thing, I've learned, that defines all of us is ourselves. We can strive to be better, prettier, more successful than the rest. But at the end of the day, the only person we answer to is ourselves. I think there is great struggle in that. For the first time in a long time, I am not succumbing to that. And it is liberating.
My mama asked me if I was, at some point, destined for Sudan--based on all of my last exploits. She asked me this in a tenuous and painful voice. In a mother's voice. I looked at her, candidly, and said "of course". I don't want to make her cry, but I know sometimes I do, and I also know that I am the most supported gal in the world. And that is priceless. How much does Sudan and representing my unknown client have in common? Who knows, but what I do know is that this coming semester will be amazing. And I have to people to thank for that.
I start my final semester tomorrow with my 10 credit clinic orientation. It is a moment that I have worked for fatefully since my parents exposed me to the first instance in realizing the value of humanity. It is a moment of realization of what comes full circle--the work I did in Somalia that has defined who I am as an advocate. It is the moment that I realized I had a calling that does not involve, at least for eternity, reviewing documents in a law firm. It is the moment that I realized I have the ability to impact a life, lives, for a lifetime.
I have struggled with my place in this life--this firm life. And I think I have finally found a place to be. I get to represent an asylum seeker in their last gasp. Their last effort. And I am their advocate.
I learned from my remarkable father the joy that comes from being a champion of people who can't be their own. And it's a quality he's instilled in me since early childhood. We are not meant to judge based on what those less fortunate can afford--we are meant to judge on what is fantastic and significant in all of us. And we do it in an eye that is compassionate.
In a year where I have questioned so much, this is my opportunity to do something great. Wish me luck. The only thing, I've learned, that defines all of us is ourselves. We can strive to be better, prettier, more successful than the rest. But at the end of the day, the only person we answer to is ourselves. I think there is great struggle in that. For the first time in a long time, I am not succumbing to that. And it is liberating.
My mama asked me if I was, at some point, destined for Sudan--based on all of my last exploits. She asked me this in a tenuous and painful voice. In a mother's voice. I looked at her, candidly, and said "of course". I don't want to make her cry, but I know sometimes I do, and I also know that I am the most supported gal in the world. And that is priceless. How much does Sudan and representing my unknown client have in common? Who knows, but what I do know is that this coming semester will be amazing. And I have to people to thank for that.
I live from my father's example, and my parent's support. And I cannot wait to see what this semester brings. Wish me luck...
Sunday, January 06, 2008
New Favorite for 2008
I've become completely obsessed, in the last few weeks, with the FoodNetword--as mentioned earlier in this blog. I got into a conversation this evening with my friend M about my love for Bobby Flay (I find him strangely attractive) and her equally as passionate hatred for him. So as I was researching (note: stalking) BF online I stumbled upon one of the most amusing blogs I've discovered thus far: Veiled Conceit.
It's hilarious. And while I understand that some people might not feel as comfortable pointing and laughing at other people's wedding announcements in the NY Times, as a single 28 year old woman who at times needs tools of procrastination, I personally have no problem with it.
Hope the first week of 2008 has been good to everyone!
It's hilarious. And while I understand that some people might not feel as comfortable pointing and laughing at other people's wedding announcements in the NY Times, as a single 28 year old woman who at times needs tools of procrastination, I personally have no problem with it.
Hope the first week of 2008 has been good to everyone!
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