Yesterday I had my last evidence class. Eeek! Already!?! When did that happen?
Next week we’ll finish up BizOrgs, and the other three classes go through the Wednesday after that. I have my first exam on the 15th… yes, a Saturday.

I’m hitting panic-mode.

I’m getting needles after class this morning and I think I’ll see if he can’t throw in a couple for concentration. Can’t hurt, I figure. I definitely need the other ones since on Monday I got that familiar pain in the ass, literally, that tells me that I’m stressing and not moving right. While it’s better now than it was then (much advil and stretching), I don’t want to take any chances. Needles today, needles next Friday, and if I can get in, needles the Friday after that.

Part of the good of getting acupuncture is that it forces me to lie there, quietly, and just breathe. I can’t move even to change positions (much). Forced meditation, in a way. Afterwards, I do feel incredibly relaxed, so I figure that even if the needles themselves aren’t actually doing anything, it’s worth it for that.

And I need the relaxation. The end is nigh for this term and exams loometh.

Remind me… why am I putting myself through this hell? Oh yeah… I love the law and I want to help people, especially artists, to be more successful doing what they love.

That, and I want a bitchin’ Porsche.

Whoops! That last bit should have been inside voice.

I have 39 minutes before my make-up class begins. We have to make up a missed Professional Responsibilities class, because the prof had a previously scheduled vacation for one class, this afternoon. Suck, it being a Friday and all, but what are you going to do?

I should be making good use of this time to work on my outline for that class. I could get some done in the 37 minutes remaining before class. I should be working on an outline for each class, but I’ve been really bad about that.

Guess what my weekend will be filled with (plus the usual readings)?

I should be reading ahead, in the 36 minutes remaining. But I didn’t bring my book with me, only the pages I needed for class (the book is in loose-leaf form). But I have my notebook and could be going through it and the syllabus to at least begin to frame the outline.

34 minutes. What am I doing? Not outlining. Damn.

Wait, I have email… it’s from a sort-of client. Must reply.

32 minutes.

Okay… I’ve screwed around enough. I will start to outline. Launching application (OmniOutliner). No updates to the software, so no more reasons to delay.

31 minutes… go.

*****
UPDATE
Got the frame of the outline done before class began.

AT&T has given me free Showtime for July. Like heroin, it’s a taste to get someone hooked. In my case, that hooking taste is Nurse Jackie.

Damn. Funny.

Smart writing and Edie Falco is brilliant. Actually, all the casting is great. Really well put together show that only lacks in being a half-hour rather than a full hour.

The other day on the show (set in NYC) a patient and her worried husband came in to the hospital. She was in immense pain, and she was apologizing to everyone (for being inconvenient, etc.). One of the nurses said, “Where in the Midwest are you from?”
“We’re from Ohio, how did you know?”
Looking at the wife, “You are in pain and you’re apologizing for it.”

I about fell off the couch.

That’s me.

I could be bleeding from a chest wound and I’d do anything rather than put someone out. I know I do it emotionally… I don’t know how to be otherwise. I don’t begrudge others who can open up and I don’t mind at all being there for one of my friends in need, but when it’s me, hell no. Can’t bother others with my pain.

I don’t care if it’s a cultural thing or not, it sucks.

I’m too busy. Seriously. Too. Busy.

I’m writing this in the 10 minutes before my ConLaw class, after having CrimPro and before Prof. Responsibilities. Started the day doing work-work and arranging a client call for tomorrow during my break between CrimPro and Evidence.

Luckily, I guess, some of my work-work and school have been colliding lately. There is a big issue on the photo world that is about Sotomayor and valuing images and how a court rules…well, it’s all about the law and photography and I’m at the forefront of one side of the debate (see biz blog, for three posts, if you want to read about it).

The debate has helped me to see just how much I have learned so far in law school. I can see the mistakes the photographers (and related folk) are making in their interpretations of the facts and issues here. Lots of it is simply because what normal people think and what the courts actually say and do are often only vaguely related. That is, for example, certain words have different meanings in the world of the law, but the normal folk don’t know that.

What I have learned so far, especially what I am learning this term, is making how I work and how I see the world of creative businesses look a little different. It’s pretty cool how that all works, when I can take two minutes to think about it.

Unfortunately, I rarely have 2 minutes to think anymore.

Like now… class is about to begin. Must pay attention to the power to tax and spend and then we move into war powers. Fun fun…

I finally got a good night of sleep last night. Of course, I was awakened by a minor earthquake (4.0), but still, good sleep. Much needed too. I have too much on my plate and haven’t been getting enough good sleep lately.

I don’t know what insanity must have possessed my advisor to think that me taking 16 units this term was a good idea. Not only 16 units, but tough ones including two 4 unit classes and Criminal Procedure and Constitutional Law. Loads of work for school and more now as the term is rapidly headed to its end. A month from now I will be about to start my finals. Ugh. Time is flying.

And then there is work, too. I’m working with clients again after taking my first academic year off. Okay, I know I need the money, but seriously, fitting in client work is tough. I’ve missed it, and it is great to be getting back to looking at wonderful creative work, but the time is a challenge. This Wednesday I’ll be part of a panel discussing the art of estimating for APA-SD and I don’t really feel as if I’ve had enough time to properly prepare. Then again, I tend to over-prep for this sort of thing… that’s just me. I also have two client calls in the week…maybe three. Lots of prep for those as well.

I think I need to raise my rates.

I’ll be cutting down on the work-work as I head into finals mode, of course. That means that the universe is having its happy laugh at me by sending me too many clients. Turning away work sucks. But my priority is still school, so such is life.

Somehow I managed to get the vacuuming and sweeping/mopping done this morning, and, obviously, I’m sneaking a few minutes to write here. So it’s not like I haven’t a moment to myself, but it certainly feels that way these days.

I think I’ll steal a few more moments…time for a swim, then hitting the books again.

I’ve struggled with anxiety and some depression throughout my life… heavy on the anxiety. But I’ve gotten help and have managed to (mostly) deal with the issues. Am I still screwed up, sure. You betcha. But I think not really so much more than most people. Differently wacked, so to speak.

I’m lucky. I’ve gotten help and I’ve managed not to get addicted to anything or the like. A miracle, considering–I know plenty of people who have struggled hard with addiction and I’m grateful to have missed that problem so far. Things, I think, could have been much worse.

But in the course of all that therapy and reflection, one can’t help but wonder why one has these issues…or at least I do. I’m a very logical person in some ways and I like to understand context as well as the results. Cognitive behavioral therapy doesn’t touch much on the why, and that is most of what I have done (it is very helpful for anxiety especially), but the questions remain and I dance with them fairly regularly.

The more I read, however, the more I wonder that I’m not more screwed up! When you line up some of the early development factors, I look like I’m a control subject for “ought to be completely whacked out of her skull!” That I’m not is a mixed function of luck and inner strength and, I think, an over-developed sense of Midewesternism–that is, not wanting to be a bother.

For example, on the “ought to be more nuts” side, there’s new research saying that moving is hard on kids. Moving repeatedly (3+ times) doubles the risk of teen suicide attempts. I lived in 5 places between the ages of about 8 and 14. Did I think about suicide as a teen? You bet… seriously. I remember plotting out how it would be best achieved with the minimum amount of pain for me and trauma for others (remember–not wanting to be a bother…). It’s a wonder I didn’t really hurt myself in the 8th grade. But I didn’t.

Factor #2, my parents divorced when I was very little. I don’t even really know when, but I only have a couple of memories of my father in the house. We all know now that divorce messes with kids’ heads no matter how amicable. In our case, it wasn’t a very nice post-divorce relationship (at least on one side)–Mom didn’t know that telling me what a horrible person my father was (in her opinion) might not be very healthy for, say, a 7-year old to hear. She didn’t mean to be hurtful to me, but she made almost every mistake in how she handled things. A lot of it was pure ignorance–no one knew what the effects were on kids back then. I have friends who have their own tales of woe from lousy parental divorces. But who knew back then how much therapy that was going to cause? I just knew it was always there, like another character in the movie.

Mom had some very messed up ideas about gender roles too. Bonus points for my future therapists. She had her own issues, of course, but I don’t think she ever admitted most or dealt with them much. For such a brilliant woman in some areas, she was nuts in others, like the gender stuff. My brothers didn’t experience it like I did because, well, they’re male. I was told repeatedly that my role in life was to take care of men and that to do anything else was wrong (like capital W wrong). At the same time, I was told that men are basically pigs. So… logically, let’s see…I’m not worth what a man is in life, and men are pigs, so that means…yes, more therapy. W00t!

My father tried, as best he could, to mitigate some of this–I think he still does. He never yells and never did, though I always knew when he was disappointed. And he could screw up too, pointing out the B on the mostly A report card was not helpful. But mostly, he always believed in equality between the genders and doing fun things like skiing and had a love of travel (until recently)–these he shared with me too. But he wasn’t there for most of the time–I lived with Mom–so he really couldn’t do more. A function of logistics, essentially.

Anyway, somehow, with this bizarre background, I survived. The purpose of this post is, like I said before, simply to point out the fact that it is pretty amazing I’m not more messed up. And yes, I think it is either why I am so strong or I got through it all because I am so strong. Flip a coin…who knows which it is.

There’s plenty more shrinks out there for that.