A return, finally

I got my sister a giant royal blue Pez dispenser as a gift. A battery operated one. It played songs and made noise and generally entertained. But then it started beeping. I turned it off, but it kept going. I took off the back of it and pulled a battery out. It kept beeping. I took the other battery out, but still, it kept beeping.

"I can't make it stop," I said aloud, and woke myself doing so.

It was my alarm, which apparently had been going off for forty-seven minutes this morning.

Forty-seven minutes.

It's been a tough week. Work has been incredibly busy. I've worked forty hours already this week and it is only Thursday. I'm so busy we've had to send someone else to court.

So it was a challenge to wake up this morning. And when I finally did, I was forty-seven minutes behind schedule. In order to get to work on time, I decided to get a cab. I didn't want to - well, I did want to - I want to take a cab every day, but I don't let myself. I didn't really have a choice this morning, because I simply can't be late to work.

The weather here has been relatively warm and spring-like, and you know what that means - it's time to bring back the green overcoat. I've been wearing it all week with little to no weird attention, which is a good thing, as I don't really have the energy for it right now.

Several cabs passed me this morning as I was trying to hail one, and I was starting to get really frustrated. But one finally stopped. When I got in, he was laughing. "I stopped for you," he said.

"Yes," I said. "Several other cabs didn't."

"They must be blind not to see you. But I see ok. I see your green coat. Can't miss that green coat!"

At last, that damn green coat got me the kind of attention I wanted.

In which I pull yet another crackbrained move...incredibly

Cognitive therapy is all about changing the way you think and is especially helpful if you have a lot of negative thoughts. You know, like when you make a mistake and all you focus on is how stupid you were and what a boneheaded move it was and now, well, your life is over and you should just die. If you have a flair for the dramatic. Like me.

But please. Let me illustrate for you the result of two years of cognitive therapy.

So, we all knew it was going to happen: I did something wrong in my new job and I got yelled at. I deserved it really, because what I did was pretty stupid, and I knew it was the wrong thing when I did it. Hey, cognitive therapy helps change your thinking, it doesn't keep you from making idiotic snap decisions.

I'd love to tell you what I did, because it's pretty laughable, but work blah blah blahbitty blah you know I can't. So we have to leave it at I did something dumb and knew it was a mistake WHILE I WAS DOING IT. Anyway, I went to my boss to confess it, because I cannot stand knowing that I did something wrong and just waiting for the ax to fall.

"I think I just made a mistake," I said.

"What did you do? What happened?" he asked.

I told him. It was clear he wasn't happy, and he expressed it in his classic lack-of-a-finished-sentence style. I stood there, feeling like the bottom was dropping out.

"No. You can't do that. You can't just do that kind of...this is a very sensitive...you can't do that. Don't ever do...don't ever do that again. You can't...how can you? Why would...look, I know that...initiative. And you're incredible. But you can't do that kind of thing. Don't ever do that...don't do that again. You can't...can you undo it? Can you stop...?"

"Yes. I think I can. I'll try. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." I replied. I ran back to my desk to fix the situation as best I could. Then, as usual, I did an instant replay of what my boss had said to me, and the one thing I focussed on?

Incredible. He said I am incredible.

And I focussed on the positive.

I'm positively incredible! Hee hee!

...and STAY out!

I've mentioned that I have a new position at my job. The first week was pretty dramatic - lots of rushing around, staying really late and running (literally running) to court to file stuff. You understand, as I have explained before, I won't really talk about work, as I would prefer to keep my job at this time. So you'll have to be content to know that I deal with things, stuff, items, papers, pleadings, and any other synonyms I can come up with.

Ok, so, I had to go pick up this order that was supposed to be signed when I got there, only it wasn't. I had to walk it to the courtroom and ask the judge to sign it. I freaked out a bit and called the attorney for whom I was working. I had to talk quietly, as I was in the echoing marble hallways of the courthouse.

"I have to take it to the judge," I hissed. "What do I do if he asks me questions?"

"Ok, here's the deal," she began, and proceeded to detail the case to me in case I got questioned about it.

I went over it in my mind, and by the time I got done, I was pounding a lectern like Jimmy Stewart in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Meanwhile, in real life, I dropped off the order with the clerk and was told to come back to pick it up. "The judge has a jury trial," she said, "so come back in about thirty minutes and we'll have it ready for you."

Hmpf. No grandstanding for me. No applause. Just waiting on a bench for a signature. Waiting. And waiting and waiting and waiting. And waiting. For hours, literally, for the lawyers to stop talking so I could get in there and get my signed order.

Finally, I went into the courtroom to wait, thinking that maybe my presence would speed things along. So I sat inside and waited. And waited and waited and waited oh my god with the waiting. The bailiff presented the judge, who looked like he was about 178 years old, with my order and he shrugged it off. He announced he didn't have time to read it as he had plans to go out of town. Out of town! Without signing my order? Nuh-uh.

The bailiff brought the order over to me. "He can't sign it tonight. Sorry. Come back Monday."

"Monday? I can't wait till Monday," I replied. "We requested this be expedited. It really needs to be signed today."

"Sorry."

"Listen, I understand the Judge has to go now, but, please, if there is any way he can sign this tonight, I'd really appreciate it. You see, our client-"

"Sorry. The Judge is leaving. You'll have to come back Monday."

"Please. Please. Can you please just ask him if he can just take a few minutes to look it over?" I begged.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." He wouldn't budge.

"But we need to get this signed right away. Our client is trying to -"

"I'm sorry, ma'am. The judge is a busy man, he doesn't have time to read your order. I told you to come back Monday. Now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the courtroom. Now."

It's not like I got escorted out by my elbows, but there it is. I got thrown out of court.

I'd like to say I left there with a signed order, but I didn't. That stuff only happens on television. We didn't have to wait until Monday, though. I went the next day with some backup (0ne of my bosses) and we got the order signed by another judge. It took a couple of hours and there was some hoop-jumping, but we ultimately got what we needed.

And I got to flirt with the Ex Parte clerk. But that's another story for another day.

In which I write a post that would be great if you could fry it up and dip it in ranch dressing before stuffing it down your gullet

I had a plan to come home this evening and start writing the story of when I got thrown out of court, but note the time, please.  I just got home from work about an hour ago.  

I'm really liking my new position in the litigation department.  I feel like it is a little more intellectually stimulating than what I was doing before, so I'm enjoying it so far.  Of course, I haven't gotten yelled at yet, so we'll see. 

In the meantime, it's a lot of work and it's really cutting in to my sitting around time, so tonight's post will have to be in note form:

• I had a greek salad for dinner at work tonight.  My breath smells like onions.
• I traded out my regular deodorant for the aluminum-free kind, but I think I forgot to put it on today.  I kept smelling food all morning, and then around noon I realized that it was my armpits.  They smell like onions.

I have to go to bed now and dream of, you guessed it: onions.

Spent

Yes, I know you're expecting something here, something witty and clever but it is 10:54 pm and I just got home from work.  I'm exhausted.  I can't even think of the next sentence.

I will tell you that in this past week, I have:

1) become a "Kat Killer"

2) done a film

3) gotten a new position at my job (I think, but without giving up my old position.  Caution: this can lead to a 13 hour day)

4) engaged in an altercation with an automobile and the yahoos in it.

I have been busy.

You might also be looking for a new post here; I will update that one soon, too, I promise.  

Go do some cat sitting while you are waiting.  You could get a really good and morose story out of it.

In which I should have spoken up

I was watching an Oprah episode yesterday that had Suze Orman's guide to surviving the economy.  She talked about having an 8 month savings and contributing to your 401K and all that.  And she said that you should understand the difference between your needs and your wants and don't buy anything you don't need.

Turns out you don't need a lot of stuff.  Dangit.

I ran into one of my big bosses in the kitchen this afternoon.  He was looking for money.  Aren't we all, bub?  

"Do you have eighty-five cents?" he asked.

I patted myself down and said, "Not on me, sorry." 

"Well, usually I can only get what I want if I have exact change," he explained.  "I only have bills today.  Let's see what happens."  He put his dollar into the machine and successfully got his eighty-five cent Wheat Thins.  "You know," he said, as he began to make a cup of coffee, "you should just be able to forfeit your change."

"What?"

"You know, forfeit your change so that you can get what you want if you only have a dollar."

"Suze would not like that," I pointed out.

"Who?" he asked.

"Suze Orman.  She says you should save your change and put it in your savings account,"  I explained.  

He looked nonplussed.  "But I should be able to get what I want. "

  

"Ah ha!  Suze says that you have to figure out what it is you need and what you just want."

"Well, I could come to your house and take away a lot of things you have that you don't need.  I mean, you probably only need a couple of outfits-"

I wear the same pair of pants every day, so close enough, right?  I'm on board with that.

"-and probably only one pair of shoes-"

Check.  I wear tennis shoes every day, because otherwise I walk like Frankenstein.

 "-your makeup-"

Ok.  That'll save me some time in the morning.

"-jewelry..."

Whoa.  Wait a second, there.  "Jewelry?"  I asked.  "You want to take my jewelry?"  I hid my hand behind my back.  "You can't have my flower ring.  No."

"See?" He smiled.  "We all want something."

"Fine.  I said,  "You can have your Wheat Thins.  I'm keeping my ring."

"That's what I'm saying.  You should be able to have what you want."

That's when I left.  But now I realize I should've asked for a raise.  Or at least some nachos.

In which I play Nancy Drew

I have always been nosy.  In fact, I like to list it as one of my best character traits.  I can eavesdrop anyone under the table (even with the ringing in my ears), as well as read upside down.  That, coupled with the fact that I am good at reading people and my very active imagination make me a damn good detective.  My sister used to call me a busybody, like it was a flaw or something.  Of course, she was a teenager then and I was annoying.  Who can blame her?  She didn't know that I was training to be AWESOME in my future life. 

I'm so good, in fact, that I used to be able to tell my boss who would be getting fired next.  "How do you know?" he'd ask.  "I can smell it," I'd say, and I'd be right.  Really, all you have to do is pay attention to what's going on around you and what people are saying here and there and you can piece information together fairly easily.

The other day one of my colleagues looked at me and said "you keep your ears open and your mouth closed, don't you?"  She was right for the most part.  I do have a history of being verbose, as my mother will be happy to prove by telling stories about my behavior in church, but I know how to keep other people's secrets.  I think my ability to dig up a good story is equally valuable, though.

It is precisely this skill that got me a compliment at work the other day.  Part of my job is to do research on possible jobs to see if there is something scandalous lurking in the background.  My love of the internet and nose for news told me something was up with this one particular person.  So I snooped and snooped until I found it - a good old fashioned scurrilous scandal.  The information was so scandalous, though, that my bosses decided not to follow through with the deal.  This has not happened in all the time I have been involved in doing this research, so I was shocked when I got the email.  The phone rang a few minutes later.  "Who did that background research?" my old boss from LA asked.  "Was that you?"  

"Yes, " I admitted, figuring I might be in some kind of trouble.

"Good job.  Thanks," he said.

Wait, what?

"That was a really good catch and we wanted to thank you.  Good work." 

And for once I was kind of speechless.  But not for too long.

Oh, what's that?  You want to know what the scandal was?  Sorry.  See above.  I am a big talker, but an excellent secret-keeper.  Get on the interweb and dredge up your own scandal.

In which I enact the plan

6:24 AM  I'll just lie here a few minutes and think before I get up.  Awareness of the global community, that's the plan.  It'll be so nice to do something that will really help people. Fighting for the rights of communities around the world.  Standing up for women who have been silenced all their lives.  Prosecuting people who take advantage of the environment.  This is gonna be great.  

7:51 AM NO! Overslept. Late.  DAMN IT.  

8:05 AM Race to work.  Do makeup in car.  Why can't anyone in LA move with any kind of speed or purpose? Why does everyone drive so slow ALL THE TIME?  Geez.  So pleased with my plan.  It's going to be really nice being all altruistic and stuff.  After all, everyone deserves to be treated with respect and I can be a part of that.  Oh my god, these people.  GET OUT OF MY WAY.  And the busses.  Every day with the slow busses.  I fail to see how public transportation helps traffic if it slows the rest of us down.  They should just get rid of it.  

8:35 AM Arrive at office.  The papers.  Where are the papers?  I look around the elevator lobby for them.  An employee from the office next door pokes her head around the corner "Oh, I'm really sorry," she tells me.  "I accidentally spilled my coffee on your papers.  Since they were mostly ruined, I threw them out."  She disappears back around the corner.  I need those papers for my FUTURE.  How am I supposed to be up on world events when you spilled coffee on my information source???  Ok, ok.  No matter.  I will read them on line during my lunch break.  That'll be fine.

10:20 AM  I wonder what it'll be like when I am a big, famous human rights attorney.  Maybe I'll get interviewed by the Times or Vanity Fair.  Maybe even Vogue!  They might put me on the cover, too, with some great title like "Human Rights are Sexy".  I wonder if I get to keep the clothes from the photoshoot....

1:00 PM  Lunchtime! Got my lunch, ready to read the news.  Oooh - Golden Globe nominations are out.  You know Heath Ledger's probably going to win.  Those poor guys in that category don't have a chance.  I'll just take a quick look and move on to the news.  Cholera epidemic, water shortage, nasty bribery case with that Blagojevich fellow.  That doesn't look good.  Looks like something's going on with that Casey Anthony case.  This is all very depressing.  Isn't there something happy to report about?

2:05 PM Hahaha!  I was just reading about this - wait - how did I end up on People.com?  Alright, well, I did read a little bit of news, so that's good.  A  productive lunch.  Got to get back to work.

7:00 PM  Alright, now, where is that Frontline episode on Darfur?  Where - no, oh no - shoot.  I must have deleted it.  Did I ever watch it?  Dang.  Oh! Oh, great.  I still have last night's Ghost Hunters to watch.  Excellent!

9:58 PM  Ok, now really time to buckle down and take a look at that LSAT study guide. 

"There is no penalty for guessing on the LSAT, meaning no points are deducted for wrong answers.  Therefore, you want to make sure you-"  

Oop!  I think its time for Celebrity Rehab!  I can finish the guide after.

1:00 AM  Huh.  Guess I must've fallen asleep on the couch.  Must be time for bed.  I might have done too much procrastinating today.  I'm going to have to figure out what to do about that tomorrow.

In which I come up with a plan

Well, in case you were wondering, the review went fine and I didn't cry.  I didn't get exceeds expectations in everything, but I got either meets or exceeds in every category, and all my reviewers gave me exceeds in the overall category.  So that's pretty ok.  My New York supervisor gave me meets in some categories.

Him: I can't give you exceeds in everything.  You know I can't do that.  Nobody gets that.

Me: Sure, yeah, I understand.  Nobody's perfect.

My Soul:  OF COURSE YOU CAN.  PLEASE.  I WANT TO BE PERFECT! WAHHHHH!

And then I ate four cookies.

As my cousin so kindly noted earlier today, if I were evaluated on my accessories, I would always exceed expectations.  I do have some great rings. There's nothing in my 401K, but at least I have some rings.

I've been feeling kind of bored and useless at work lately, so I've been pondering what I could do instead.  I'd like to work for some really worthwhile organization, like Amnesty International. The thing is, they're really not into hiring you because you're kinda funny and have a stunning collection of shoes.  You have to have some sort of experience in that field to prove that you are thoughtful, selfless and socially aware.  I was thinking maybe I could join the Peace Corps.  You know, really help people, build some bridges, teach some kids to read, get some experience so I can impress those folks.  But then, I don't think they let you shoe shop in the Peace Corps.  And wearing all my rings would probably get in the way of digging wells and things.  Also, I'm sure you can't successfully carry water from the river back to the village in an Yves Saint Laurent Downtown Tote, no matter how cute it might be.  

I think I'm going to need a different plan.  

Maybe what I'll do is go to law school.  Or better yet, get a combination law degree and a masters in global public policy.  Ha!  Got it.  Brilliant.

Except for I don't really know anything about public policy.  What if they ask me questions about that on my application?  I don't even really know what's going on in the world.  I can't see Russia from my house, so I'll have to think of something else.  Well, easily remedied.  I'll just read the papers we get at work.  The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal are very respectable papers.  I should be able to get some good stuff out of them. Ooh! We get The Economist, too.  That should be informative, if I read past the first paragraph of an article this time.  I'll try that.  I should probably also watch that Frontline on Darfur I've had saved on my DVR since August.  

It might be good if I worked on my foreign language skills, too.  No one will be impressed by my weird hybrid of Spanish and French. (I took the classes one semester after the other in college.  Big mistake. People don't take you seriously when you accidentally order chile con fromage or ask to try on the gauche zapato. Oh my god! I don't know how to say "ring" in either language!  Time to enroll in Berlitz.) I doubt I can make any headway with the sad little bit of Yiddish I picked up in New York.  They'd just think I was meshuga.

Naturally, I'll have to follow through with taking the LSAT.  I was going to take it last weekend, but I cancelled because I just...never studied.  But if I take it seriously this time, maybe even take a prep course, I could do ok.  And I might have to take the GRE again.  Well, no "might" about it, I definitely will, since I got like a 9 on the math part last time.  Of course, I wasn't really prepared for it either, seeing as how I took it approximately one month before I received my graduate degree.  I do know how to work the system sometimes.

Ok! Great! I have a plan in place and ready to go.  Starting first thing tomorrow, more focus on the global community.  I'll get to work before anyone else does so I can read the papers.  And I'll check out GRE classes instead of TMZ, watch serious news, not just The Daily Show, and crack open that LSAT study guide.  

Ahhhh.  It feels good to have a purpose in life.