please, please, puh-leez don't. Or at least have the decency to make an offer so painfully low that the seller is insulted and refuses to deal with you any more.
The Mister and I really like a place we saw earlier this week. But we would just feel better about making an offer if my parents saw it and gave it their blessing. My father's schedule doesn't free up at all until this weekend, so we won't tour the apartment again until Saturday at the earliest -- four long days away.
So I'm biting my nails, wondering if someone else will snatch this apartment out from under us. I sure hope not.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Burning the Candle at Both Ends
My watch and calendar seem to know that Daylight Saving Time has ended, but neither one of them bothered to tell my internal clock.
I was nocturnal in college, but I've become something of an early-riser as an adult. I suppose that's still a relative term: it's not like I get up at the crack of dawn; I usually roll out of bed at 8:00 a.m., the time that most of my fellow New Yorkers are beginning their daily commutes into the City. Still, when you consider that on Sundays when I was in college, I slept through and therefore missed brunch (which ended somewhere in the neighborhood of 2:30 p.m.) as often as not, it's a big improvement.
Getting to sleep in until eight is a joy and a delight on most weekdays. The problem is that I can't seem to teach my internal clock to set the snooze button on weekends. Even sleeping with earplugs (to drown out the street noise) and a sleep mask (to block ambient light), I still get up hours before the Mister drags himself out of bed on most weekends these days.
I have reconciled myself to this being-forced-to-wake-up/unable-to-go-back-to-sleep on weekends status by reminding myself that -- if 8:00 a.m. is an indecently early time to rise on a Saturday or Sunday, it's a mercifully late hour at which to rise the rest of the time. With a ratio of 5:2, I would say it cuts pretty heavily in my favor.
The problem is that we set the clocks back this past weekend. And my darned eyes have been jolting open at 6:15 a.m. -- 45 minutes earlier than they would ordinarily, even allowing for the switch from Daylight Saving Time to whatever time it is the other six or so months out of the year.
I've tried to make the most out of this newfound even-earlier-riser status by going to the gym before work, rather than leaving it for afterwards, when a frillion different excuses populate my brain, justifying the lethargy that inevitably ensues when I flop down on my sofa rather than switch immediately into my gym togs. Still? I. Am. Wiped. Out.
I was nocturnal in college, but I've become something of an early-riser as an adult. I suppose that's still a relative term: it's not like I get up at the crack of dawn; I usually roll out of bed at 8:00 a.m., the time that most of my fellow New Yorkers are beginning their daily commutes into the City. Still, when you consider that on Sundays when I was in college, I slept through and therefore missed brunch (which ended somewhere in the neighborhood of 2:30 p.m.) as often as not, it's a big improvement.
Getting to sleep in until eight is a joy and a delight on most weekdays. The problem is that I can't seem to teach my internal clock to set the snooze button on weekends. Even sleeping with earplugs (to drown out the street noise) and a sleep mask (to block ambient light), I still get up hours before the Mister drags himself out of bed on most weekends these days.
I have reconciled myself to this being-forced-to-wake-up/unable-to-go-back-to-sleep on weekends status by reminding myself that -- if 8:00 a.m. is an indecently early time to rise on a Saturday or Sunday, it's a mercifully late hour at which to rise the rest of the time. With a ratio of 5:2, I would say it cuts pretty heavily in my favor.
The problem is that we set the clocks back this past weekend. And my darned eyes have been jolting open at 6:15 a.m. -- 45 minutes earlier than they would ordinarily, even allowing for the switch from Daylight Saving Time to whatever time it is the other six or so months out of the year.
I've tried to make the most out of this newfound even-earlier-riser status by going to the gym before work, rather than leaving it for afterwards, when a frillion different excuses populate my brain, justifying the lethargy that inevitably ensues when I flop down on my sofa rather than switch immediately into my gym togs. Still? I. Am. Wiped. Out.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Just for the Record
I posted this post on November 2nd, not November 1st.
Blogspot dot com is so not my friend today. What's the point of making good on my promise to post daily, in the spirit of NaBloPoMo, if my very own blog will betray me?
In fairness, I had started that post the day before (i.e., November 1, 2007), because I know it takes a while to upload image files from my computer. That said, I didn't complete & publish it until the 2nd. Even so, my blog insists that it was posted the day before. Not fair :(
I just want the NaBloPoMo powers that be to know that I was really doing my best to post daily. And even if the website glitch disqualifies me, I'm still enjoying the kick in the ass that this experiment is giving me, and I plan to keep posting throughout November anyway. Maybe even afterwards.
Blogspot dot com is so not my friend today. What's the point of making good on my promise to post daily, in the spirit of NaBloPoMo, if my very own blog will betray me?
In fairness, I had started that post the day before (i.e., November 1, 2007), because I know it takes a while to upload image files from my computer. That said, I didn't complete & publish it until the 2nd. Even so, my blog insists that it was posted the day before. Not fair :(
I just want the NaBloPoMo powers that be to know that I was really doing my best to post daily. And even if the website glitch disqualifies me, I'm still enjoying the kick in the ass that this experiment is giving me, and I plan to keep posting throughout November anyway. Maybe even afterwards.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Work Ethic
It's a Sunday, and I have work to do. Not household chores, and not errands (although I have to attend to those as well), but honest to goodness, do-it-or-your-job-is-on-the-line employment-related work.
I'm pretty lucky, I suppose. My job is an office job -- a desk job, if you will -- more often than not. I don't have to do any heavy lifting or manual labor; I rarely have to travel for work. And my work is portable. I don't even have to haul my sorry ass into the office to get it done. I'm sitting at home in my PJs, in front of my computer. Give me a computer with MS Word and an Internet connection, and I'm good to go.
What's more, my work is intellectually challenging. I feel engaged by the assignments I'm given; they make me think. Some people go into a specialized practice when they become lawyers. While I respect that choice, I fear that to do so means learning more and more about less and less. I don't want my professional expertise to be a mile deep and an inch wide. I worry I would spend time writing memoranda on the same topics, just plugging in new names to the same tired analyses. Doing something different, and something fresh, requires me to keep my mind sharp. I need to tackle a new body of law, or nuance of a familiar legal principle, grapple with it, master it, and produce a brief explaining why, as applied to the facts of the case on which I'm working, it should result in an outcome favorable to my client.
The down side to all of this is that it's not easy -- not usually easy, anyway. There is the requisite rolling up of the sleeves -- online legal research. Before I can write a compelling argument, I have to learn what the law says. When it doesn't favor the position we're taking, I have to find a way to make it cut in my favor. This takes some serious strategizing. And it can take a lot of my time.
I really cherish weekends. I opted to be a public sector litigator to get good training, but after forsaking the public sector for the private, I decided to make a trade-off. I wanted to go to a firm with a sophisticated practice, where my legal writing wouldn't consist of using the "Find and Replace" function to mark up an earlier memo and appropriate it for a new, virtually-identical case. But I also wanted to go somewhere where I wouldn't be tethered to a Blackberry. The downside of going to a small firm is that I have a salary that, while more than adequate to cover my expenses at present, is now less than half of what first-year associates are making at large "white shoe" law firms.
The upside of working at a litigation boutique, rather than at a larger shop, has always been that I have ample down time. I suppose that's a relative term. At my brother-in-law's wedding just one week ago, people were shocked and aghast to hear that I'm frequently at work until 7:15 p.m., and that even when I get home at 8 p.m. or thereabouts, I have yet to work out, cook, or eat dinner, to say nothing about relaxing. Still, I manage to cook dinner for the Mister (or he for me) about 50% of the time -- not bad for someone keeping my hours -- and I regularly make it to the gym at least two-to-three times per week. At a big firm, these options would likely not be available to me.
But, on weekends like this one, where to procrastinate means risking not only the wrath of my bosses, but also blowing a court deadline, I can't bring myself to ignore looming assignments. It's the right thing to do to buckle down and get the work done.
My sister has always had the "stick-to-it-ivness" to get her work done when it's called for. So does the Mister. Growing up, my motto was "why do today what you can do at 2 a.m. before the project is due?" Rarely suffering any consequences from this approach -- I got As throughout high school, and was accepted into two Ivy League institutions -- I'm surprised that I ever learned to start projects before the eleventh hour.
Maybe it's called growing up. Maybe I've developed a conscience. Whatever the reason, I can't justify to myself any longer the sense in putting off until tomorrow (or at least until later on tonight) what must be done today. I'm thirty-one, so I suppose it's about time. It's just something that surprises me, since it snuck up on me. I don't remember waking up one morning and feeling any different, it's just the case that now, if there is work to do, I know I'll work until after dark, after the gym is closed, over the weekend, whatever it takes, to get a job done.
I'm proud of myself for making this change. I know that to do otherwise would leave my colleagues in the lurch. And I owe them more than that. But it's more than that. They haven't bought my loyalty (even though I'm earning more than I ever have in my life), and it's not the fear of getting let go that motivates me either. I just know that, when my name gets signed to a court document, I want to be proud of what I've written, certain that I gave it my best shot. Truth be told, I don't just work hard these days because most of the work I produce becomes a matter of public record when filed with the Courts. I just want to know that I didn't half-ass it.
So when I go to bed tonight, I may not be up to date on Ugly Betty, and I may not have finished watching The Illusionist on DVD yet, but at least I'll know that I can walk into the office tomorrow confident that I've
done what I was supposed to do.
I'm pretty lucky, I suppose. My job is an office job -- a desk job, if you will -- more often than not. I don't have to do any heavy lifting or manual labor; I rarely have to travel for work. And my work is portable. I don't even have to haul my sorry ass into the office to get it done. I'm sitting at home in my PJs, in front of my computer. Give me a computer with MS Word and an Internet connection, and I'm good to go.
What's more, my work is intellectually challenging. I feel engaged by the assignments I'm given; they make me think. Some people go into a specialized practice when they become lawyers. While I respect that choice, I fear that to do so means learning more and more about less and less. I don't want my professional expertise to be a mile deep and an inch wide. I worry I would spend time writing memoranda on the same topics, just plugging in new names to the same tired analyses. Doing something different, and something fresh, requires me to keep my mind sharp. I need to tackle a new body of law, or nuance of a familiar legal principle, grapple with it, master it, and produce a brief explaining why, as applied to the facts of the case on which I'm working, it should result in an outcome favorable to my client.
The down side to all of this is that it's not easy -- not usually easy, anyway. There is the requisite rolling up of the sleeves -- online legal research. Before I can write a compelling argument, I have to learn what the law says. When it doesn't favor the position we're taking, I have to find a way to make it cut in my favor. This takes some serious strategizing. And it can take a lot of my time.
I really cherish weekends. I opted to be a public sector litigator to get good training, but after forsaking the public sector for the private, I decided to make a trade-off. I wanted to go to a firm with a sophisticated practice, where my legal writing wouldn't consist of using the "Find and Replace" function to mark up an earlier memo and appropriate it for a new, virtually-identical case. But I also wanted to go somewhere where I wouldn't be tethered to a Blackberry. The downside of going to a small firm is that I have a salary that, while more than adequate to cover my expenses at present, is now less than half of what first-year associates are making at large "white shoe" law firms.
The upside of working at a litigation boutique, rather than at a larger shop, has always been that I have ample down time. I suppose that's a relative term. At my brother-in-law's wedding just one week ago, people were shocked and aghast to hear that I'm frequently at work until 7:15 p.m., and that even when I get home at 8 p.m. or thereabouts, I have yet to work out, cook, or eat dinner, to say nothing about relaxing. Still, I manage to cook dinner for the Mister (or he for me) about 50% of the time -- not bad for someone keeping my hours -- and I regularly make it to the gym at least two-to-three times per week. At a big firm, these options would likely not be available to me.
But, on weekends like this one, where to procrastinate means risking not only the wrath of my bosses, but also blowing a court deadline, I can't bring myself to ignore looming assignments. It's the right thing to do to buckle down and get the work done.
My sister has always had the "stick-to-it-ivness" to get her work done when it's called for. So does the Mister. Growing up, my motto was "why do today what you can do at 2 a.m. before the project is due?" Rarely suffering any consequences from this approach -- I got As throughout high school, and was accepted into two Ivy League institutions -- I'm surprised that I ever learned to start projects before the eleventh hour.
Maybe it's called growing up. Maybe I've developed a conscience. Whatever the reason, I can't justify to myself any longer the sense in putting off until tomorrow (or at least until later on tonight) what must be done today. I'm thirty-one, so I suppose it's about time. It's just something that surprises me, since it snuck up on me. I don't remember waking up one morning and feeling any different, it's just the case that now, if there is work to do, I know I'll work until after dark, after the gym is closed, over the weekend, whatever it takes, to get a job done.
I'm proud of myself for making this change. I know that to do otherwise would leave my colleagues in the lurch. And I owe them more than that. But it's more than that. They haven't bought my loyalty (even though I'm earning more than I ever have in my life), and it's not the fear of getting let go that motivates me either. I just know that, when my name gets signed to a court document, I want to be proud of what I've written, certain that I gave it my best shot. Truth be told, I don't just work hard these days because most of the work I produce becomes a matter of public record when filed with the Courts. I just want to know that I didn't half-ass it.
So when I go to bed tonight, I may not be up to date on Ugly Betty, and I may not have finished watching The Illusionist on DVD yet, but at least I'll know that I can walk into the office tomorrow confident that I've
done what I was supposed to do.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Two Down...
twenty-eight days of NaBloPoMo to go. (Well, twenty-seven, now that this has been published.)
Where am I going to get twenty-eight days' worth of ideas? I seriously need to buy this book.
Not much to report here. It's been a lazy Saturday so far. Despite the fact that I was up fairly late last night (re-watching Platoon for the first time in ages), I woke up early today, let the Mister sleep in, lazed around the house, and then met a friend for a late brunch. At least I got in two nice cross-town walks; the weather was perfect for that today. Am contemplating doing a little work today, maybe hitting the gym. After that, am probably going to watch Gone Baby Gone.
I guess that after the out-of-town trip last weekend, it's nice to stay relatively still for a change.
Where am I going to get twenty-eight days' worth of ideas? I seriously need to buy this book.
Not much to report here. It's been a lazy Saturday so far. Despite the fact that I was up fairly late last night (re-watching Platoon for the first time in ages), I woke up early today, let the Mister sleep in, lazed around the house, and then met a friend for a late brunch. At least I got in two nice cross-town walks; the weather was perfect for that today. Am contemplating doing a little work today, maybe hitting the gym. After that, am probably going to watch Gone Baby Gone.
I guess that after the out-of-town trip last weekend, it's nice to stay relatively still for a change.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Halloween Highlights
Below are some of the better pictures we captured during and after the Halloween Parade. I learned two lessons at it: (1) you can't spend enough on a high-quality flash for your camera, and (2) line up early.
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Each of these skeletons was operated by numerous puppeteers.
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More high-fying puppets (the parade's theme was "Wings") -- which struck me as Burtonesque in nature.
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I have not the words.
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This woman was either a washing machine or a robot, but either way, I think it was the best costume I saw all night.
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Each of these skeletons was operated by numerous puppeteers..jpg)
More high-fying puppets (the parade's theme was "Wings") -- which struck me as Burtonesque in nature..jpg)
I have not the words.
.jpg)
This woman was either a washing machine or a robot, but either way, I think it was the best costume I saw all night.
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If you can't do this when you're young and ripped, when can you get away with such a costume? (At least, I think it was a costume. This being NYC, one can never be 100% sure....)
Off and Running
Erring on the side of caution, I figured I'd better post *something* before the day gets away from me. For the next thirty days, NaBloPoMo is the boss of me.
That said, after last night -- where I made good on my plan to visit the Village Halloween Parade -- I'm thinking this could be fun, as long as I answer when opportunity knocks.
Walking the City with the Mister, I felt alive for the first time in ages. As much as we love one another, we have gotten into something of a rut. Between both of us being somewhat overworked, and what with him studying for the GMAT exam, we don't have the energy to give the best of ourselves to each other at night. It's wake up, rush to work, come home, rush to the gym, and then get back at 11 p.m. to inhale some dinner, chat, try to decompress and fall into bed. Meals are consumed on the sofa, in front of the DVD player more often than not.
While there's nothing inherently wrong with that routine, and it was borne of necessity in large part, we have to -- we want to -- change it. Last night's affirmative choice *not* to go home and do nothing (well, if not nothing, to settle back into our routine), we shook off some dust, checked out the parade, walked around the City for a few hours, caught some dinner out at a restaurant we hadn't been to in ages, and had a great old time. I fell in love with him and with my City (not that I'd fallen out of love, just that it's nice to be reminded) all over again.
I needed that. And I'm going to make a point of doing that more often.
That said, after last night -- where I made good on my plan to visit the Village Halloween Parade -- I'm thinking this could be fun, as long as I answer when opportunity knocks.
Walking the City with the Mister, I felt alive for the first time in ages. As much as we love one another, we have gotten into something of a rut. Between both of us being somewhat overworked, and what with him studying for the GMAT exam, we don't have the energy to give the best of ourselves to each other at night. It's wake up, rush to work, come home, rush to the gym, and then get back at 11 p.m. to inhale some dinner, chat, try to decompress and fall into bed. Meals are consumed on the sofa, in front of the DVD player more often than not.
While there's nothing inherently wrong with that routine, and it was borne of necessity in large part, we have to -- we want to -- change it. Last night's affirmative choice *not* to go home and do nothing (well, if not nothing, to settle back into our routine), we shook off some dust, checked out the parade, walked around the City for a few hours, caught some dinner out at a restaurant we hadn't been to in ages, and had a great old time. I fell in love with him and with my City (not that I'd fallen out of love, just that it's nice to be reminded) all over again.
I needed that. And I'm going to make a point of doing that more often.
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