Today is the first day of a the period of my life which I shall call "studying for the bar." Husband and I briefly reviewed all of the multistate subjects, just to get an overview.
Criminal law and torts are my old friends who still call me every few days, just to see what's going on.
Evidence sends me e-mails on my birthday.
Contracts is an acquaintance who looks familiar, but I could be remembering someone else.
Property law?
Friday, May 09, 2008
Stroller Selection
I'm on a quest for Baby's perfect New York stroller. Last summer, I borrowed a Maclaren Triumph from my generous sister-in-law. I used that stroller for most of Baby's waking hours. I used it as Baby's high chair, I carried my groceries in it, I rocked Baby to sleep in it, I took it to church, I rattled it across the cobblestones at Fulton Fishmarket, I bounced it down subway stairs, I plowed it across the Sheep Meadow at Central Park. The Triumph treated me well, but of course I found some minor problems. As a purely hypothetical example, it just might maybe tip over backwards if you hang a bag full of soup cans over the handles while you're grocery shopping.
As many New Yorkers have told me, shopping for a stroller is like shopping for a car (and nearly as expensive, I'm finding). In some ways it's even more difficult than shopping for a car.
First of all, for all of its excellent qualities, Provo is not a great place to buy high-quality strollers. There are lots of babies, yes, but people with money just drive their babies around in their SUVs and people without money can't afford to drop hundreds of dollars on a stroller for their hundreds of kids. You can find a not-too-bashed-up Graco at a consignment store for thirty bucks, it'll pretty much do yuh. So, if you're a Provonian in the market for a stroller that's very lightweight, very high quality, foldable with one hand, steerable with one hand, manageable over curbs, cobblestones, and subway stairs, your selection is limited.
Also, strollers are baby items, and the baby world goes through fads. For example, right now I am seeing a fad of dress-up fairy princess birthday parties among two through four-year-old girls. If little girls had these when I was little, they didn't invite me. Ruffly dresses with matching lacey panties are out. Monkeys and alligators in primary colors are in. Keeping this in mind. I have to wonder how much of the $900 on the price tag of the popular (well, popular in New York) Bugaboo Chameleon is due to the fact that it's trendy. Don't get me wrong: I'm pretty dang trendy, but not $900 worth of trendy.
As many New Yorkers have told me, shopping for a stroller is like shopping for a car (and nearly as expensive, I'm finding). In some ways it's even more difficult than shopping for a car.
First of all, for all of its excellent qualities, Provo is not a great place to buy high-quality strollers. There are lots of babies, yes, but people with money just drive their babies around in their SUVs and people without money can't afford to drop hundreds of dollars on a stroller for their hundreds of kids. You can find a not-too-bashed-up Graco at a consignment store for thirty bucks, it'll pretty much do yuh. So, if you're a Provonian in the market for a stroller that's very lightweight, very high quality, foldable with one hand, steerable with one hand, manageable over curbs, cobblestones, and subway stairs, your selection is limited.
Also, strollers are baby items, and the baby world goes through fads. For example, right now I am seeing a fad of dress-up fairy princess birthday parties among two through four-year-old girls. If little girls had these when I was little, they didn't invite me. Ruffly dresses with matching lacey panties are out. Monkeys and alligators in primary colors are in. Keeping this in mind. I have to wonder how much of the $900 on the price tag of the popular (well, popular in New York) Bugaboo Chameleon is due to the fact that it's trendy. Don't get me wrong: I'm pretty dang trendy, but not $900 worth of trendy.
Friday, May 02, 2008
On the Road
When I was in eighth grade I wrote a poem called "On the Road." I can't remember the whole thing now, but from what I do remember, it was pretty awful. I haven't written a poem in a long time. If "On the Road" is any indication, that's probably a good thing.
Anyway, today I really am on the road. Our family is in the fine city of Winnemucca, Nevada as we end the first leg of our road trip to California. By the way, "Winnemucca" is precisely the type of word Baby would say on his own, so I had high hopes of adding an extremely cool word to his vocabulary. Alas, even after multiple efforts to trick him into saying it, he failed to add it to his vocabulary before he fell asleep in his car seat.
Every time I go on a long car trip I promise myself that this time I won't read in the car (motion sickness, I know, nerd-alert) and I won't eat junk food (not a good combo with motion sickness). But what would a long car trip be without the combination of junk food flavored motion sickness? Not the kind of car trip I've ever had. So I spent my first hour in Winnemucca settling the Pringles and Nutty Bars in my churning stomach.
Baby is sleeping in the motel closet. He seems to like it. Hopefully he won't wake up with yet another hideous memory that will need to be repressed and then gradually drawn back into Baby's consciousness with the help of a kindly, parent-hating therapist.
Anyway, today I really am on the road. Our family is in the fine city of Winnemucca, Nevada as we end the first leg of our road trip to California. By the way, "Winnemucca" is precisely the type of word Baby would say on his own, so I had high hopes of adding an extremely cool word to his vocabulary. Alas, even after multiple efforts to trick him into saying it, he failed to add it to his vocabulary before he fell asleep in his car seat.
Every time I go on a long car trip I promise myself that this time I won't read in the car (motion sickness, I know, nerd-alert) and I won't eat junk food (not a good combo with motion sickness). But what would a long car trip be without the combination of junk food flavored motion sickness? Not the kind of car trip I've ever had. So I spent my first hour in Winnemucca settling the Pringles and Nutty Bars in my churning stomach.
Baby is sleeping in the motel closet. He seems to like it. Hopefully he won't wake up with yet another hideous memory that will need to be repressed and then gradually drawn back into Baby's consciousness with the help of a kindly, parent-hating therapist.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Graduation
I know, I know, I've already graduated, but I was allowed to experience the full graduation experience again last week when Hubby graduated.
I think most people would agree that graduation day itself is kind of a mixed bag. With all of the emotions tied into it, wonderful, sad, and boring, it kind of comes out a wash. An emotion map of Hubby's graduation day:
1) I was stressed up to my ears, pulling all of the last-minute plans together for picture taking, video taping, calling everyone about parking, getting a babysitter, etc.
2) I was surprisingly moved with pride when the faculty and graduates marched in. I've been to dozens of graduations, but I still think the pomp and circumstance is really cool.
3) I was super nervous before Hubby's speech. I knew it was a good speech (I wrote about a third of it and edited all of it), and I knew that Husband would deliver it well, but I really, really wanted everyone to love my fabulous husband, and I knew law students are groomed to be a prideful, sneering lot.
4) I had a growing sense of elation as the speech was received with applause and laughter (the good kind).
5) After the glow wore off, boredome, boredom, boredom. The Provo Tabernacle is hot and the doctoral hooding ceremony takes a long time.
6) I had my usual crowds-make-me-nervous jitters during the reception afterwards, but luckily Hubby's talk and our upcoming move to New York City gave me and enviable two automatic topics of conversation with my hundreds of law school acquaintances. I was also sinfully proud of my husband.
7) The rest of the day is an exhausted blur. Dinner? Some kind of something at my in-law's house? So tired. Haven't truly slept in. Five. Years.
The next few days I watched my husband go through post-graduation depression. First it's "hooray, I have so much time on my hands, and everyone loves me!" Then it's "boo, I have so much time on my hands, my friends are all gone forever, and I'll never be popular again!" Now he's turning the corner to "hmm, I have so much time on my hands, maybe I'll engage in an interesting and world-improving non-law activity before I have to start studying for the bar." I have to hand it to him: It took me three months and a baby to get to that point.
I think most people would agree that graduation day itself is kind of a mixed bag. With all of the emotions tied into it, wonderful, sad, and boring, it kind of comes out a wash. An emotion map of Hubby's graduation day:
1) I was stressed up to my ears, pulling all of the last-minute plans together for picture taking, video taping, calling everyone about parking, getting a babysitter, etc.
2) I was surprisingly moved with pride when the faculty and graduates marched in. I've been to dozens of graduations, but I still think the pomp and circumstance is really cool.
3) I was super nervous before Hubby's speech. I knew it was a good speech (I wrote about a third of it and edited all of it), and I knew that Husband would deliver it well, but I really, really wanted everyone to love my fabulous husband, and I knew law students are groomed to be a prideful, sneering lot.
4) I had a growing sense of elation as the speech was received with applause and laughter (the good kind).
5) After the glow wore off, boredome, boredom, boredom. The Provo Tabernacle is hot and the doctoral hooding ceremony takes a long time.
6) I had my usual crowds-make-me-nervous jitters during the reception afterwards, but luckily Hubby's talk and our upcoming move to New York City gave me and enviable two automatic topics of conversation with my hundreds of law school acquaintances. I was also sinfully proud of my husband.
7) The rest of the day is an exhausted blur. Dinner? Some kind of something at my in-law's house? So tired. Haven't truly slept in. Five. Years.
The next few days I watched my husband go through post-graduation depression. First it's "hooray, I have so much time on my hands, and everyone loves me!" Then it's "boo, I have so much time on my hands, my friends are all gone forever, and I'll never be popular again!" Now he's turning the corner to "hmm, I have so much time on my hands, maybe I'll engage in an interesting and world-improving non-law activity before I have to start studying for the bar." I have to hand it to him: It took me three months and a baby to get to that point.
Monday, April 21, 2008
For Reals, Sister
There are so many awesome blogs written by stay-at-home moms these days. It's one of those phenomena that makes the Internet worth all the porn. I don't have time to link to all of my favorite mom blogs (Baby's going to wake up any second), but read this one to understand (whispered, reverantly) naptime.
Lunch
I ate chicken for lunch, baked in a sauce made of mustard, orange juice, and brown sugar.
Baby ate Spaghetti O's, by himself, with a spoon.
We are both immensely satisfied.
Baby ate Spaghetti O's, by himself, with a spoon.
We are both immensely satisfied.
No, no, NO
If I ever have a daughter, I will not let her be in a children's performing group that sings "Lady Marmelade." She can cry and scream and hate me all she wants, but I refuse to allow my nine-year-old to sing "Voulez-vous couchez avec moi?" to a human audience of any kind. I'll buy her a pony instead. I'll feed her through a tube if she goes on a hunger strike.
Yes, I know, there I go again, promising myself parenting choices before I am able to see them in context, like that one time I told myself I wouldn't allow my son to watch cartoons first things in the morning (hah!). But this time is different. Cartoons are cartoons. Onstage sexual invitations are different.
I get annoyed when people write anonymous editorials saying "I'm shocked and appalled that . . ." I think that people (especially Provonians) are far to easily offended and judgmental about stuff that isn't any of their business. So when I found myself shocked and appalled by a production that our family recently saw at Thanksgiving Point (scantily-clad nine-year-olds singing and dancing to "Lady Marmelade"), I had to carefully consider my feelings.
Here are my feelings: Adults can decide to sing and dance to "Lady Marmelade" if they choose. I'll think they are pathetic, but I won't comment on their freedom to so perform. If they do it in a movie as flamboyant and sweet-natured as Moulin Rouge, I'll even choose to attend and enjoy it.
Kids shouldn't.
Yes, I know, there I go again, promising myself parenting choices before I am able to see them in context, like that one time I told myself I wouldn't allow my son to watch cartoons first things in the morning (hah!). But this time is different. Cartoons are cartoons. Onstage sexual invitations are different.
I get annoyed when people write anonymous editorials saying "I'm shocked and appalled that . . ." I think that people (especially Provonians) are far to easily offended and judgmental about stuff that isn't any of their business. So when I found myself shocked and appalled by a production that our family recently saw at Thanksgiving Point (scantily-clad nine-year-olds singing and dancing to "Lady Marmelade"), I had to carefully consider my feelings.
Here are my feelings: Adults can decide to sing and dance to "Lady Marmelade" if they choose. I'll think they are pathetic, but I won't comment on their freedom to so perform. If they do it in a movie as flamboyant and sweet-natured as Moulin Rouge, I'll even choose to attend and enjoy it.
Kids shouldn't.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Healthy as a Pig and Stone-cold Sober
Last year, 90% of the students who studied for the bar using the PMBR prep course passed the multistate section of their respective bars. I just got an e-mail telling me so. This is good news, considering that I will be using the PMBR prep course to study for the multistate.
Of course, when I read that statistic, I immediately began trying to rationalize the pass rate even more in my favor, attempting to disassociate myself as much as possible from those unfortunate would-be lawyers who did not pass. Some of them had debilitating handicaps such as blindness or pregnancy which affected their exam performance. Some of them went on Norwegian cruises rather than attend the PMBR review courses. Some of them were phenomenally stupid. Some of them abused substances, other than Kozy Shack rice pudding, which negatively affected their mental processes.
Since none of these things apply to me, my chances of passing the multistate section are probably higher than 90%, don't you think? Even accounting for the facts that (1) I am sitting for the bar two years after having graduated from law school and (2) I have maternal responsibilities for someone who is at least as distracting as a comfortable addiction to marijuana (I assume). I find myself grasping at even more outlandish potential reasons for not passing the multistate that do not apply to me: surely at least one of these non-passing students developed a kidney condition during the exam which forced him to excuse himself for multiple time-consuming and concentration-wrecking bathroom breaks. This happens to other people all the time, but it won't happen to me.
I'm ashamed to say that I developed this chilling method of reasoning in law school. That's what happens when you take a bunch of hyper-competitive, achievement-driven, unfeeling freaks and grade them on a strict curve. During the weeks before exams, I would look around the classroom, sizing up the members of my class. I would hear the news from my classmates and translate it into the potential exam performance: Lulu got engaged this semester, so she probably hasn't read for this class; George's wife had triplets, but, on the other hand, I heard he has a photographic memory; At least I know I'll do better than Trixie, whose entire family contracted leprosy last month.
Of course, when I read that statistic, I immediately began trying to rationalize the pass rate even more in my favor, attempting to disassociate myself as much as possible from those unfortunate would-be lawyers who did not pass. Some of them had debilitating handicaps such as blindness or pregnancy which affected their exam performance. Some of them went on Norwegian cruises rather than attend the PMBR review courses. Some of them were phenomenally stupid. Some of them abused substances, other than Kozy Shack rice pudding, which negatively affected their mental processes.
Since none of these things apply to me, my chances of passing the multistate section are probably higher than 90%, don't you think? Even accounting for the facts that (1) I am sitting for the bar two years after having graduated from law school and (2) I have maternal responsibilities for someone who is at least as distracting as a comfortable addiction to marijuana (I assume). I find myself grasping at even more outlandish potential reasons for not passing the multistate that do not apply to me: surely at least one of these non-passing students developed a kidney condition during the exam which forced him to excuse himself for multiple time-consuming and concentration-wrecking bathroom breaks. This happens to other people all the time, but it won't happen to me.
I'm ashamed to say that I developed this chilling method of reasoning in law school. That's what happens when you take a bunch of hyper-competitive, achievement-driven, unfeeling freaks and grade them on a strict curve. During the weeks before exams, I would look around the classroom, sizing up the members of my class. I would hear the news from my classmates and translate it into the potential exam performance: Lulu got engaged this semester, so she probably hasn't read for this class; George's wife had triplets, but, on the other hand, I heard he has a photographic memory; At least I know I'll do better than Trixie, whose entire family contracted leprosy last month.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
The One and Only . . .
Yesterday, Baby and I watched Disney's, The One and Only Genuine Original Family Band. I hadn't seen it since I was a little kid. Here are my thoughts:
This was actually two movies rolled into one: The first was a romantic musical comedy about a girl and a boy who fall in love, get in a fight, and fall in love again. It was charming, but it felt kind of anachronistic. It's not that no one was making musicals in 1969/70, but they weren't making sentimental, patriotic, western musicals. I think singing and dancing with my family band in a barn is just about the coolest thing ever, but there were moments when even I felt a little embarrassed for the actors. Baby had no complaints though.
The other movie was a political/historical movie about living in Dakota at the time it was being considered for statehood. This plot was fascinating to me in 2008, and I wish they could have shaken off the musical romance stuff and gone into more detail with the story. Did I just say that? Hang on, I need to go watch "The Music Man" to straighten myself out.
Anyway, the whole story hinges on an the presidential race in 1888, when Cleveland received more actual votes than Harrison, but Harrison won the electoral college and the election. In 1888, the country was hugely divided between Republicans and Democrats, and this movie tried to illustrate that tension. I don't know personally, but I've read that the current political situation is the most violently partisan the country has seen since the Civil War. What was supposed to look ridiculous in the movie (interrupting a political rally?!!! defacing a portrait of a presidential candidate?!!!) looked like pretty typical politics to me. In fact, the most unbelievable part of the movie was the ending when everyone becomes friends in spite of their political differences.
My favorite line: "Well how do you like that? The Democrats win an election, fair and square, and the Republicans steal it out from under their noses." If they had put this in a movie today, it would have been an unfunny effort to make the movie Important and Timely. Instead, it was just plain awesome, like an unintended pun.
This was actually two movies rolled into one: The first was a romantic musical comedy about a girl and a boy who fall in love, get in a fight, and fall in love again. It was charming, but it felt kind of anachronistic. It's not that no one was making musicals in 1969/70, but they weren't making sentimental, patriotic, western musicals. I think singing and dancing with my family band in a barn is just about the coolest thing ever, but there were moments when even I felt a little embarrassed for the actors. Baby had no complaints though.
The other movie was a political/historical movie about living in Dakota at the time it was being considered for statehood. This plot was fascinating to me in 2008, and I wish they could have shaken off the musical romance stuff and gone into more detail with the story. Did I just say that? Hang on, I need to go watch "The Music Man" to straighten myself out.
Anyway, the whole story hinges on an the presidential race in 1888, when Cleveland received more actual votes than Harrison, but Harrison won the electoral college and the election. In 1888, the country was hugely divided between Republicans and Democrats, and this movie tried to illustrate that tension. I don't know personally, but I've read that the current political situation is the most violently partisan the country has seen since the Civil War. What was supposed to look ridiculous in the movie (interrupting a political rally?!!! defacing a portrait of a presidential candidate?!!!) looked like pretty typical politics to me. In fact, the most unbelievable part of the movie was the ending when everyone becomes friends in spite of their political differences.
My favorite line: "Well how do you like that? The Democrats win an election, fair and square, and the Republicans steal it out from under their noses." If they had put this in a movie today, it would have been an unfunny effort to make the movie Important and Timely. Instead, it was just plain awesome, like an unintended pun.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Rules of Evidence
Lately I've been brushing up on the federal rules of evidence. Husband (who is working much harder on them because he has a final in three weeks) can't stand them. I kind of like them. Every piece of information you want to enter into evidence is like a little puzzle, and you have to navigate the rules of the puzzle to get it in there. Sometimes I wish I could use them to direct my daily life. Here are a few examples:
Someone is telling me a long, boring story. Objection: Witness is giving an unnecessary narrative.
Family member is sharing an embarrassing anecdote about my childhood. Objection: The probative value of this information is outweighed by its prejudicial effect. (If the damage of the anecdote has already come out, you can ask that it be stricken from the record).
Customer service representative is telling me that my feelings of aggravation have no bearing on the question of whether or not the telephone company needs to return my money. Response: The emotional distress suffered by the witness goes directly to the question of damages.
Pompous honors undergrad does not want me to question his expertise: Response: I need to conduct a voir dire concerning this witness's qualifications to give his opinion on the subject of Everything.
See? Kind of cool. Sort of replaces social rules with legal ones. At least these ones are written down.
Someone is telling me a long, boring story. Objection: Witness is giving an unnecessary narrative.
Family member is sharing an embarrassing anecdote about my childhood. Objection: The probative value of this information is outweighed by its prejudicial effect. (If the damage of the anecdote has already come out, you can ask that it be stricken from the record).
Customer service representative is telling me that my feelings of aggravation have no bearing on the question of whether or not the telephone company needs to return my money. Response: The emotional distress suffered by the witness goes directly to the question of damages.
Pompous honors undergrad does not want me to question his expertise: Response: I need to conduct a voir dire concerning this witness's qualifications to give his opinion on the subject of Everything.
See? Kind of cool. Sort of replaces social rules with legal ones. At least these ones are written down.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Cars
Baby loves them. They have been his favorite toys his whole short life. One of his first words was "car." He spends hours pushing them around on the couch cushions or rolling them down ramps. He takes baths with his cars. He sleeps with a toy car clutched in each little fist.
I thought all of this was kind of cute until it moved beyond generic toy cars to specific toy cars. His favorite movie is (duh) "Cars." While he still loves all of his cars, lately he's begun to show preference to the "Cars" cars: Lightening McQueen, Doc Hudson, Ramone, etc. (Would you like me to name them all? I can. Would you like me to quote the entire movie? I can do that too.). A couple of weeks ago he realized that one of his sets of pajamas had pictures of Lightening McQueen all over them. He spent one blissful evening watching "Cars," holding his Doc Hudson car, wearing his Lightening McQueen jammies. Every so often he's look the picture of Lightening McQueen on his tummy and gently poke it, sighing blissfully. Yesterday, he found his car pajama pants on the floor of his bedroom, and he followed me around the house saying "uuh?" until I took off his pants and put him in his pajama pants.
I never thought I'd be a mom who supported this type of behavior. I pictured myself explaining to my child that, no, we did not need to buy the Batman action figure just because he was on TV. Then I would direct my child's attention to his educational flashcards. This whole cars things really snuck up on me.
I thought all of this was kind of cute until it moved beyond generic toy cars to specific toy cars. His favorite movie is (duh) "Cars." While he still loves all of his cars, lately he's begun to show preference to the "Cars" cars: Lightening McQueen, Doc Hudson, Ramone, etc. (Would you like me to name them all? I can. Would you like me to quote the entire movie? I can do that too.). A couple of weeks ago he realized that one of his sets of pajamas had pictures of Lightening McQueen all over them. He spent one blissful evening watching "Cars," holding his Doc Hudson car, wearing his Lightening McQueen jammies. Every so often he's look the picture of Lightening McQueen on his tummy and gently poke it, sighing blissfully. Yesterday, he found his car pajama pants on the floor of his bedroom, and he followed me around the house saying "uuh?" until I took off his pants and put him in his pajama pants.
I never thought I'd be a mom who supported this type of behavior. I pictured myself explaining to my child that, no, we did not need to buy the Batman action figure just because he was on TV. Then I would direct my child's attention to his educational flashcards. This whole cars things really snuck up on me.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
In Case You Were Interested . . .
No matter how I place Baby in his crib for the night, he always manages to fall asleep in the same position: on his back with his feet on his pillow. He also snores like a lawn mower.
I am desperately in love with him.
I am desperately in love with him.
Audiobooks
All law students are required to buy and use a laptop computer. After three years in a constant feed of information and entertainment, I found I had developed a sort of attention deficit disorder where I couldn't do just one thing at a time, especially if that one thing was kind of boring. I began making lists and writing letters during talks at church. My laundry stayed in the basket until I had a movie I could watch while I folded. Nursing my baby every two hours was particularly trying: I would find myself tapping my feet, mentally reviewing the elements of common law negligence or the difference between direct and derivative shareholder suits while I sat waiting for Baby to finish up or fall asleep.
Stay-home motherhood is definitely a hands-on, eyes-on job, and this makes it hard to do two things at once if they both require either your hands or your eyes. My beloved laptop friend of three years, alas, required both. My ears and my brain, however, were almost always available and bored. I quickly grew to understand how my mother developed her addiction to talk radio. I might have done the same, but my (also law school-compounded ADD) husband convinced me to take up audiobooks.
I'm hooked. I listen to audiobooks while I'm playing with Baby in the park, getting groceries, doing housework, driving in the car. I listen to newspapers, novels, radio programs, podcasts -- I'm even taking Spanish lessons when I'm feeling pious about continuing my education.
One of the tricky things about audiobooks is that they are, in many ways, far more engrossing than printed material. Since I already had a habit of getting distracted by novels, this can be a problem. For example, right now I am listening to "The Beautiful and Damned" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It is about a bunch of wealthy, lazy, selfish people who I intensely dislike. I don't know how it ends yet (so don't tell me), but I'm really looking forward to the part where they all get damned. I would actually like to see one of them repent and reform, but since good old F. Scott never reformed, I can only hope for a satisfying damnation.
Today, I had a lot of errands to run, so I had several hours of listening to the beautiful and damned Anthony Patch and Gloria Gilbert sneering, whining, and drinking highballs. I felt like I've been hanging out with them all day. I think I was kind of rude to the clerk at Target, just because I wanted to push Gloria into a lake. I need to take a break and listen to something with characters I actually like. Unfortunately, all I have right now is the Wall Street Journal or NPR's "Justice Talking." Decisions, decisions. I think "Justice Talking" is more likely to keep me motivated while I wash the dishes and less likely to contain beautiful and damned characters.
Stay-home motherhood is definitely a hands-on, eyes-on job, and this makes it hard to do two things at once if they both require either your hands or your eyes. My beloved laptop friend of three years, alas, required both. My ears and my brain, however, were almost always available and bored. I quickly grew to understand how my mother developed her addiction to talk radio. I might have done the same, but my (also law school-compounded ADD) husband convinced me to take up audiobooks.
I'm hooked. I listen to audiobooks while I'm playing with Baby in the park, getting groceries, doing housework, driving in the car. I listen to newspapers, novels, radio programs, podcasts -- I'm even taking Spanish lessons when I'm feeling pious about continuing my education.
One of the tricky things about audiobooks is that they are, in many ways, far more engrossing than printed material. Since I already had a habit of getting distracted by novels, this can be a problem. For example, right now I am listening to "The Beautiful and Damned" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. It is about a bunch of wealthy, lazy, selfish people who I intensely dislike. I don't know how it ends yet (so don't tell me), but I'm really looking forward to the part where they all get damned. I would actually like to see one of them repent and reform, but since good old F. Scott never reformed, I can only hope for a satisfying damnation.
Today, I had a lot of errands to run, so I had several hours of listening to the beautiful and damned Anthony Patch and Gloria Gilbert sneering, whining, and drinking highballs. I felt like I've been hanging out with them all day. I think I was kind of rude to the clerk at Target, just because I wanted to push Gloria into a lake. I need to take a break and listen to something with characters I actually like. Unfortunately, all I have right now is the Wall Street Journal or NPR's "Justice Talking." Decisions, decisions. I think "Justice Talking" is more likely to keep me motivated while I wash the dishes and less likely to contain beautiful and damned characters.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Munchies
It's starting. I really need a treat right now. Something fried. A donut maybe. Or a fast food empanada. Mmm...
I've been here before. If my munchy craving isn't satisfied in the next couple of hours, I may call a neighbor to come over and babysit while I make a frenzied run to Krispy Kreme. She understands. If she can't make it, I just might spend an entire hour in the kitchen in the middle of the night making cookies. It's that bad.
Or maybe I can convince Husband to interrupt his studies to make a munchy run for me. I think he secretly loves doing that kind of thing.
I knew this girl in high school who had cravings for popular music the way I have cravings for food. She'd seriously run home during lunch hour because she had a craving to listen to Counting Crows. I never really understood that. If I have a song in my head, I might think "hmm, I like this song a lot," and if I happened to be near my computer, I might pull it up and listen to it, but it's not a driving compulsion for me. I haven't kept in touch with that girl since high school (she was kind of weird), but I bet she's really happy in the iTunes age. Immediate satifaction for all her music addictions for a dollar a song (or for free if you're not bothered by those pesky copyright regulations).
I guess the Internet is getting close to satisfying my munchy cravings. If I were craving pizza, say, I could go to Papa John's website and order something to be delivered. But I'm never craving pizza, and if I were, I wouldn't want a whole pizza. I want a single donut. I want to open iTunes, click a button, charge my credit card 49 cents, and have a warm glazed donus appear on this napkin I have ready right by the computer.
Could you work on that Man O' Steel?
I've been here before. If my munchy craving isn't satisfied in the next couple of hours, I may call a neighbor to come over and babysit while I make a frenzied run to Krispy Kreme. She understands. If she can't make it, I just might spend an entire hour in the kitchen in the middle of the night making cookies. It's that bad.
Or maybe I can convince Husband to interrupt his studies to make a munchy run for me. I think he secretly loves doing that kind of thing.
I knew this girl in high school who had cravings for popular music the way I have cravings for food. She'd seriously run home during lunch hour because she had a craving to listen to Counting Crows. I never really understood that. If I have a song in my head, I might think "hmm, I like this song a lot," and if I happened to be near my computer, I might pull it up and listen to it, but it's not a driving compulsion for me. I haven't kept in touch with that girl since high school (she was kind of weird), but I bet she's really happy in the iTunes age. Immediate satifaction for all her music addictions for a dollar a song (or for free if you're not bothered by those pesky copyright regulations).
I guess the Internet is getting close to satisfying my munchy cravings. If I were craving pizza, say, I could go to Papa John's website and order something to be delivered. But I'm never craving pizza, and if I were, I wouldn't want a whole pizza. I want a single donut. I want to open iTunes, click a button, charge my credit card 49 cents, and have a warm glazed donus appear on this napkin I have ready right by the computer.
Could you work on that Man O' Steel?
Friday, February 22, 2008
Student Loans
This summer I am going to take the New York bar. Don't let me change my mind. Everyone tells me that I should be afraid, very afraid, of the New York bar. I heard a rumor that they systematically fail the bottom ten-percent of the students who sit for it, although I'm pretty sure that's a myth. Just between us, that's the least of my worries. I'll pass. I always pass. I'll study, and I'll pass. If New York systematically fails the bottom ten-percent, well, there's going to be one student who fails because this stay-home mom rocked it.
No, the thing I'm stressed about, the thing I've always been stressed about, is money. My little family has been living on student loans for our entire marriage. We sleep in a student loan bed; we eat student loan Spaghetti Os, we dress Baby in student loan diapers. After five years of this, we have a pile of student loans. Last month, I was so happy to cash our last student loan check. We were in the bottom of the Grand Canyon: still a ways to go, but it was all upward from here.
My joy was premature. See, we have to stay alive for four more months after our student loans run out but before Husband's new job starts churning out a salary. During those four months, we will be earning less and spending more than we have during any school semester: full-time bar study, child care, and private short-term health insurance on top of our usual expenses, without the extra pennies we bring in with our part-time jobs. And then there's thousands of dollars of fees to fly to New York, sit for the actual exam, and pay our bar memberships. And then there's the obscene pile of cash we'll have to scrape together for our apartment deposit in New York City . . .
I feel ill. Bottom of the Grand Canyon, yes, but now we have to ditch the donkeys, build a raft, cross the Colorado River, and then start back up.
So, more loans. A lot more loans. You could buy a really nice car with this four-month hunk of loans. If you were single and childless, you could put your bad self through law school. We will be paying these loans until we die. Actually, even if I die, the loans survive. Uh huh.
Going to take the bar. Still taking that bar.
Years from now, when pre-law Jane meets my two-attorney New York family, will she imagine that I strongly considered working through hair school this summer instead of taking the New York bar? Probaby not. She will admire my cool legal library, my collection of letters from all of the deserving poor I have helped, and my hugely intelligent children. And she'll take out loans to go to law school and become a lawyer. I want her to become a lawyer. It will make her happy. Eventually.
No, the thing I'm stressed about, the thing I've always been stressed about, is money. My little family has been living on student loans for our entire marriage. We sleep in a student loan bed; we eat student loan Spaghetti Os, we dress Baby in student loan diapers. After five years of this, we have a pile of student loans. Last month, I was so happy to cash our last student loan check. We were in the bottom of the Grand Canyon: still a ways to go, but it was all upward from here.
My joy was premature. See, we have to stay alive for four more months after our student loans run out but before Husband's new job starts churning out a salary. During those four months, we will be earning less and spending more than we have during any school semester: full-time bar study, child care, and private short-term health insurance on top of our usual expenses, without the extra pennies we bring in with our part-time jobs. And then there's thousands of dollars of fees to fly to New York, sit for the actual exam, and pay our bar memberships. And then there's the obscene pile of cash we'll have to scrape together for our apartment deposit in New York City . . .
I feel ill. Bottom of the Grand Canyon, yes, but now we have to ditch the donkeys, build a raft, cross the Colorado River, and then start back up.
So, more loans. A lot more loans. You could buy a really nice car with this four-month hunk of loans. If you were single and childless, you could put your bad self through law school. We will be paying these loans until we die. Actually, even if I die, the loans survive. Uh huh.
Going to take the bar. Still taking that bar.
Years from now, when pre-law Jane meets my two-attorney New York family, will she imagine that I strongly considered working through hair school this summer instead of taking the New York bar? Probaby not. She will admire my cool legal library, my collection of letters from all of the deserving poor I have helped, and my hugely intelligent children. And she'll take out loans to go to law school and become a lawyer. I want her to become a lawyer. It will make her happy. Eventually.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
President's Day
My President's Day was pretty cool, I guess. Husband took Baby for most of the day, so that was nice. A great day off for every one.
But here is what I really want to write about: Most of the stay-home moms I know (I don't know many stay-home dads, sorry) had a disappointing President's Day. Not that they had high-flying expectations for President's Day, but I mean, they had bad days.
On this day, everyone is home when they're usually gone, and a ton of stuff is closed when it's usually open. While this may be fun for students, bankers, postal workers, etc., it's kind of a pain in the neck for a stay-home mom.
Let me explain it this way for all you non-stay-homers:
Suppose I decided to take my child and descend upon your place of work for the day. Baby and I have given ourselves a holiday from our normal activities, and instead we're going to take a break from our usual Monday activities and spend the day with you.
At first, you might think it will be fun: you'll be able to shoot the breeze with me, you can observe Baby toddling around, and maybe I'll even be able to help you out with whatever it is you do at your job. It doesn't take long, however, before I take over your computer (and the only chair in your office) to do some facebooking, and Baby is fascinated with your paper shredder. Then we start tracking cracker crumbs through the conference room, complaining loudly about the lack of a diaper station in the bathroom, wiping our noses on your sweater, etc., etc., etc.
Around lunch (which, of course, you will have to provide for us), you realize that you're not accomplishing any of the things that you needed to get done today. You think we're really cool, but we're kind of cramping your style today. But you can't make us go back home on the one day that we don't have to be there, right? And you can't send us outside to play because the weather is nasty, as it always is this time of year. So you bite your tongue and cowboy through it, hour after hour, knowing that tomorrow you will have tons of catching up to do, but secretly really looking forward to tomorrow if only because you'll be back to your regularly scheduled programming.
And then finally we leave, saying "Wow, you hardly do anything around here. We should come more often."
But here is what I really want to write about: Most of the stay-home moms I know (I don't know many stay-home dads, sorry) had a disappointing President's Day. Not that they had high-flying expectations for President's Day, but I mean, they had bad days.
On this day, everyone is home when they're usually gone, and a ton of stuff is closed when it's usually open. While this may be fun for students, bankers, postal workers, etc., it's kind of a pain in the neck for a stay-home mom.
Let me explain it this way for all you non-stay-homers:
Suppose I decided to take my child and descend upon your place of work for the day. Baby and I have given ourselves a holiday from our normal activities, and instead we're going to take a break from our usual Monday activities and spend the day with you.
At first, you might think it will be fun: you'll be able to shoot the breeze with me, you can observe Baby toddling around, and maybe I'll even be able to help you out with whatever it is you do at your job. It doesn't take long, however, before I take over your computer (and the only chair in your office) to do some facebooking, and Baby is fascinated with your paper shredder. Then we start tracking cracker crumbs through the conference room, complaining loudly about the lack of a diaper station in the bathroom, wiping our noses on your sweater, etc., etc., etc.
Around lunch (which, of course, you will have to provide for us), you realize that you're not accomplishing any of the things that you needed to get done today. You think we're really cool, but we're kind of cramping your style today. But you can't make us go back home on the one day that we don't have to be there, right? And you can't send us outside to play because the weather is nasty, as it always is this time of year. So you bite your tongue and cowboy through it, hour after hour, knowing that tomorrow you will have tons of catching up to do, but secretly really looking forward to tomorrow if only because you'll be back to your regularly scheduled programming.
And then finally we leave, saying "Wow, you hardly do anything around here. We should come more often."
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Happy Bald Eagle Day
The Great Salt Lake has too much carp, and once a year they suffocate them all to balance out the ecosystem. The upside to all this carp carnage is that it coincides with a bald eagle migration through Utah. Today we left Baby with Grandma and took a trip to Farmington Bay with my high school zoology teacher to look at the bald eagles. Bald eagles are so cool.
We probably saw, I don't know, maybe 70 eagles. There were a few roosting in the trees, or flying low, but mostly they were hanging out on the ice, digesting their carp. It's kind of hard to descibe how awesome it is to see these birds. They're huge for one thing, and their heads and legs are so white, and their beaks are so yellow. And they have these eyes . . .
Know what a bald eagle call sounds like? It's not a scream. It's a high-pitched peep-peep-peep. The best word this mommy can think of to describe it is "cute."
If you think you might want to get into birding, it's a pretty good idea to start with bald eagles. They are pretty easy to identify. If you're smart enough to bring your high school zoology teacher with you (and he happens to own a high-tech spotting scope), you might also be able to identify tundra swans, northern harriers, American kestrels, red-winged blackbirds, rough-legged hawks, pintail ducks, golden eye ducks, mallards, Canada geese, and common ravens.
And if your husband loves you, he will buy you a pair of binoculars and a good birding book so you can relearn how to identify the Utah birds you love before you move away.
We probably saw, I don't know, maybe 70 eagles. There were a few roosting in the trees, or flying low, but mostly they were hanging out on the ice, digesting their carp. It's kind of hard to descibe how awesome it is to see these birds. They're huge for one thing, and their heads and legs are so white, and their beaks are so yellow. And they have these eyes . . .
Know what a bald eagle call sounds like? It's not a scream. It's a high-pitched peep-peep-peep. The best word this mommy can think of to describe it is "cute."
If you think you might want to get into birding, it's a pretty good idea to start with bald eagles. They are pretty easy to identify. If you're smart enough to bring your high school zoology teacher with you (and he happens to own a high-tech spotting scope), you might also be able to identify tundra swans, northern harriers, American kestrels, red-winged blackbirds, rough-legged hawks, pintail ducks, golden eye ducks, mallards, Canada geese, and common ravens.
And if your husband loves you, he will buy you a pair of binoculars and a good birding book so you can relearn how to identify the Utah birds you love before you move away.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Ways I Keep in Touch with Legal Society
So, sometimes people ask me how I keep my law-trained mind active in the profession for which it is trained. Tonight, I decided to make a list of the stuff that I currently do as a full-time mom that also keeps me up-to-date with the legal community. I was actually kind of impressed with the length of my list. I didn't think that I did that much, but now that I really think about it, I don't think a day goes by where I don't do something related to my legal career. As legal careers go, mine is sort of resting right now while other aspects of my life take precedence, but it's definitely not dormant. Anyway, here's my list:
My part-time job as a legal research assistant
Library books on law or legal issues (currently reading Lawrence Lessig's fabulous "Code 2.0")
My even smaller part-time job as a bar review company representative
Small legal favors for friends and family (usually variations on the theme of "talk to a real lawyer," but sometimes they actually ask me to do things that I'm qualified to do)
E-mail from various members of my law school class
My law student and soon-to-be lawyer husband's homework and exams
My law student and soon-to-be lawyer husband's extra-curricular mock trial stuff
Networking cocktail parties and dinners with my law student and soon-to-be-lawyer husband
Mentally calculating arguments in my favor for hypothetical tort, property, family law, or contract claims against my landlord, my son's gymnastics company, Provo City, my divorced friends, my pediatrician, my insurance company, etc. (I know it sounds nasty, but after law school, you can't help it, ok?)
My J. Reuben Clark Society magazine
My "American Lawer" magazine
"Justice Talking" on NPR (and justicetalking.org)
Helping pre-law students with their admissions materials
My audio subscription to the Wall Street Journal
nytimes.com
discourse.org
abovethelaw.com
Worrying about taking/passing the New York bar this July
My part-time job as a legal research assistant
Library books on law or legal issues (currently reading Lawrence Lessig's fabulous "Code 2.0")
My even smaller part-time job as a bar review company representative
Small legal favors for friends and family (usually variations on the theme of "talk to a real lawyer," but sometimes they actually ask me to do things that I'm qualified to do)
E-mail from various members of my law school class
My law student and soon-to-be lawyer husband's homework and exams
My law student and soon-to-be lawyer husband's extra-curricular mock trial stuff
Networking cocktail parties and dinners with my law student and soon-to-be-lawyer husband
Mentally calculating arguments in my favor for hypothetical tort, property, family law, or contract claims against my landlord, my son's gymnastics company, Provo City, my divorced friends, my pediatrician, my insurance company, etc. (I know it sounds nasty, but after law school, you can't help it, ok?)
My J. Reuben Clark Society magazine
My "American Lawer" magazine
"Justice Talking" on NPR (and justicetalking.org)
Helping pre-law students with their admissions materials
My audio subscription to the Wall Street Journal
nytimes.com
discourse.org
abovethelaw.com
Worrying about taking/passing the New York bar this July
Sunday, February 03, 2008
MotherGuilt
I just finished a heartfelt, hilarious, profanity-riddled, and anti-conservative book on motherhood. I wouldn't describe myself as conservative, but 90% of the people I love do describe themselves that way, so the book made me think a lot about the author's issues with conservative American political and social life.
Her main beef seems to be that conservative, Christian, nuclear families thrive by teaching their mothers to be "obedient to everything except [their] own heart[s]." The result is that these mothers end up being so filled with guilt and suppressed rage that they go insane. Instead, she advocates that society teach mothers to be true to the goddess within themselves, meditate daily, buy organic, nurse in public, rage against the machine, and teach their children tolerance for everyone. Except abusive men and conservative, Christian, nuclear families, who should be whipped.
In spite of my Provo address and my religious affiliation, I'm down with the whole goddess-within, reflective, organic, nursing, revolutionary womanhood thing. Seriously. And I don't think mothers should wallow in guilt. But, I know for a fact that conservative Christians don't have the corner of the guilt market. Sure, I feel a pretty much constant pressure to keep my child morally safe, clean, and worthy. My heart will overflow with pride if/when I see him marrying and creating his own traditional nuclear family. And, yes, this pressure brings occasional twinges of what might be called guilt when he begin his Sunday mornings by watching "Cars" instead of "Special Witnesses of Christ." Not repressed-rage guilt, just I-can-think-of-better-things-he-could-be-doing-but-I-need-to-get-dressed-for-church-and-I-know-he'll-leave-me-alone-if-I-let-him-watch-Cars guilt.
I also feel a constant pressure to raise my baby to be a tolerant, peace-loving, freedom fighter. Baby's media choices will not include Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, or Anne Coulter as long as I have anything to do with it, but he's welcome to tune in to "Bowling for Columbine" or "An Inconvenient Truth" anytime he likes. I would love love love it if someday he marched on Washington for universal health care, livable minimum wages, gun control, environmentalism, feminism, affirmative action, etc. He can even borrow from my collection of leftist political buttons ("Well-behaved women rarely make history," perhaps?). I feel guilty that Baby loves trucks more than dolls, and he only seems to like books with characters that growl. Not repressed-rage guilt, just I-hope-my-liberal-friends-at-Ms.-magazine-never-see-the-inside-of-my-son's-boyblue-toy-box guilt.
See, like most moms, I'm trying to give my baby the best of everything, and when I realize that I could have done better, I feel bad. Sometimes I feel guilty about one thing, and sometimes I feel guilty about something else, but it's all based on the same instinct I have to give Baby the best life ever and to help him find pure and eternal happiness. I have enjoyed profound satifaction in the doctrines of my Christian church. I feel that my religious commitments to dietary restrictions, prayer, and scripture study have done me far more good than my political/social commitments to buy organic, engage in breathing exercises, and listen to NPR. Apparently, the author of the book I just read thought that the political/social stuff was the only stuff worth the guilt. That doesn't hurt my feelings; it's all good stuff. I just kind of prickle when she insinuates that the other stuff I'm trying hard to incorporate into Baby's life is not only a waste of energy, but it's bad for me and for Baby.
I think that we moms all feel the same amount of guilt because we all want be the same amount of perfect.
Her main beef seems to be that conservative, Christian, nuclear families thrive by teaching their mothers to be "obedient to everything except [their] own heart[s]." The result is that these mothers end up being so filled with guilt and suppressed rage that they go insane. Instead, she advocates that society teach mothers to be true to the goddess within themselves, meditate daily, buy organic, nurse in public, rage against the machine, and teach their children tolerance for everyone. Except abusive men and conservative, Christian, nuclear families, who should be whipped.
In spite of my Provo address and my religious affiliation, I'm down with the whole goddess-within, reflective, organic, nursing, revolutionary womanhood thing. Seriously. And I don't think mothers should wallow in guilt. But, I know for a fact that conservative Christians don't have the corner of the guilt market. Sure, I feel a pretty much constant pressure to keep my child morally safe, clean, and worthy. My heart will overflow with pride if/when I see him marrying and creating his own traditional nuclear family. And, yes, this pressure brings occasional twinges of what might be called guilt when he begin his Sunday mornings by watching "Cars" instead of "Special Witnesses of Christ." Not repressed-rage guilt, just I-can-think-of-better-things-he-could-be-doing-but-I-need-to-get-dressed-for-church-and-I-know-he'll-leave-me-alone-if-I-let-him-watch-Cars guilt.
I also feel a constant pressure to raise my baby to be a tolerant, peace-loving, freedom fighter. Baby's media choices will not include Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, or Anne Coulter as long as I have anything to do with it, but he's welcome to tune in to "Bowling for Columbine" or "An Inconvenient Truth" anytime he likes. I would love love love it if someday he marched on Washington for universal health care, livable minimum wages, gun control, environmentalism, feminism, affirmative action, etc. He can even borrow from my collection of leftist political buttons ("Well-behaved women rarely make history," perhaps?). I feel guilty that Baby loves trucks more than dolls, and he only seems to like books with characters that growl. Not repressed-rage guilt, just I-hope-my-liberal-friends-at-Ms.-magazine-never-see-the-inside-of-my-son's-boyblue-toy-box guilt.
See, like most moms, I'm trying to give my baby the best of everything, and when I realize that I could have done better, I feel bad. Sometimes I feel guilty about one thing, and sometimes I feel guilty about something else, but it's all based on the same instinct I have to give Baby the best life ever and to help him find pure and eternal happiness. I have enjoyed profound satifaction in the doctrines of my Christian church. I feel that my religious commitments to dietary restrictions, prayer, and scripture study have done me far more good than my political/social commitments to buy organic, engage in breathing exercises, and listen to NPR. Apparently, the author of the book I just read thought that the political/social stuff was the only stuff worth the guilt. That doesn't hurt my feelings; it's all good stuff. I just kind of prickle when she insinuates that the other stuff I'm trying hard to incorporate into Baby's life is not only a waste of energy, but it's bad for me and for Baby.
I think that we moms all feel the same amount of guilt because we all want be the same amount of perfect.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Provo Library vs. Netflix
The Provo Public Library has a wonderful service where you, the patron, put in your e-mail address and fill out a questionnaire about what kind of books you like to read. Then you submit it and it is reviewed by one of the library's fine librarians. Within 14 days, you will receive an e-mail with three to five personal recommendations. If you've already read these books, I guess you e-mail back and ask for more recommendations until the librarian gives you something you haven't read or tells you that there are no more books that fit your criteria.
Now, don't get me wrong--this was a great idea, and I think it is sweet as pie that somewhere, a librarian is lovingly trying to find me recommendations. (In case you're interested, here is the information I submitted:
Authors I like: Richard Russo, Anne Tyler, Lois McMasters Bujold, and Susanna Clarke
Books I don't care for: The Twilight series
Genre (choose one): General Fiction
Sub-genre (choose one): no preference (my choices were as specific as "science fiction books about time travel and vampires")
Plots (choose one): Character driven
Pace (multiple choices): Slow or fast
Main character: no preference (I could choose the gender, age, and ethnicity of my main character)
Setting: no preference (I could choose the country and I also had an urban/rural checkbox)
Tone (multiple choices): Inspirational, upbeat, quirky, deep, insightful, and I don't remember what else (I assume they won't find me a book that meets all of these tone requirements, but if they do, cool)
Turn-offs: Books that contain drawn-out descriptions of physical or sexual abuse
)
After I got my answers back in a confirmation e-mail, I realized that I probably wasn't the type of person who was supposed to use this service. I just want to read good books. If I could have chosen "no preference" for every category, I probably would have: fiction, nonfiction; slow-paced, fast-paced; vampires, no vampires; what do I care? I just want to like it.
I think this system was designed for someone who only wanted to read a fast-paced, depressing yet upbeat science fiction book about a 57-year-old time-traveling vampire who only visited rural locations in Vietnam. Written in the style of Charles Dickens, but not the style of Jane Austen. I must admit, it was tempting to put in just such a request, but I felt bad for the loving librarian who would be spending his time and my library fines, trying to take care of my specific but fake biblioneeds. Actually, if the librarian could find just such a book, I would read it (hello? wouldn't you?)
Netflix has a similar service that is about one hundred times smarter, faster, and more reliable. You rate tons and tons of movies, and they compare your ratings against their other ten billion subscribers. Then they instantly give you recommendations of tons more movies. If you've already seen these movies, you rate them, and they give you more recommendations until eventually you have tons of useful recommendations. So, for example, because I enjoyed "The Office: Season 3" and "Raise the Red Lantern," Netflix thinks I will also enjoy "Planet Earth." And they're right, I do. These movies have almost nothing to do with each other except that people who like one usually like the others.
The Netflix system isn't perfect (it gave me a lot of weird/creepy-looking recommendations based on my 5-star rating of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"), but it's a lot closer to what I'm actually looking for when I want a recommendation. The result is that I'm seeing a lot of wonderful movies that I haven't seen before. I would love it if someone had the money in their pocket or love in their heart to put together something similar for books. I guess Amazon does something sort of like that, but it's not as slick as Netflix's. If someone will make a Netflix for books, I will pay them to use their service, and I will be happy.
Now, don't get me wrong--this was a great idea, and I think it is sweet as pie that somewhere, a librarian is lovingly trying to find me recommendations. (In case you're interested, here is the information I submitted:
Authors I like: Richard Russo, Anne Tyler, Lois McMasters Bujold, and Susanna Clarke
Books I don't care for: The Twilight series
Genre (choose one): General Fiction
Sub-genre (choose one): no preference (my choices were as specific as "science fiction books about time travel and vampires")
Plots (choose one): Character driven
Pace (multiple choices): Slow or fast
Main character: no preference (I could choose the gender, age, and ethnicity of my main character)
Setting: no preference (I could choose the country and I also had an urban/rural checkbox)
Tone (multiple choices): Inspirational, upbeat, quirky, deep, insightful, and I don't remember what else (I assume they won't find me a book that meets all of these tone requirements, but if they do, cool)
Turn-offs: Books that contain drawn-out descriptions of physical or sexual abuse
)
After I got my answers back in a confirmation e-mail, I realized that I probably wasn't the type of person who was supposed to use this service. I just want to read good books. If I could have chosen "no preference" for every category, I probably would have: fiction, nonfiction; slow-paced, fast-paced; vampires, no vampires; what do I care? I just want to like it.
I think this system was designed for someone who only wanted to read a fast-paced, depressing yet upbeat science fiction book about a 57-year-old time-traveling vampire who only visited rural locations in Vietnam. Written in the style of Charles Dickens, but not the style of Jane Austen. I must admit, it was tempting to put in just such a request, but I felt bad for the loving librarian who would be spending his time and my library fines, trying to take care of my specific but fake biblioneeds. Actually, if the librarian could find just such a book, I would read it (hello? wouldn't you?)
Netflix has a similar service that is about one hundred times smarter, faster, and more reliable. You rate tons and tons of movies, and they compare your ratings against their other ten billion subscribers. Then they instantly give you recommendations of tons more movies. If you've already seen these movies, you rate them, and they give you more recommendations until eventually you have tons of useful recommendations. So, for example, because I enjoyed "The Office: Season 3" and "Raise the Red Lantern," Netflix thinks I will also enjoy "Planet Earth." And they're right, I do. These movies have almost nothing to do with each other except that people who like one usually like the others.
The Netflix system isn't perfect (it gave me a lot of weird/creepy-looking recommendations based on my 5-star rating of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"), but it's a lot closer to what I'm actually looking for when I want a recommendation. The result is that I'm seeing a lot of wonderful movies that I haven't seen before. I would love it if someone had the money in their pocket or love in their heart to put together something similar for books. I guess Amazon does something sort of like that, but it's not as slick as Netflix's. If someone will make a Netflix for books, I will pay them to use their service, and I will be happy.
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