Indian Film Favorites

On Sunday, I went to see Deepa Mehta's "Water" at the Angelika Film Center. The movie was beautiful,but very sad. It is set in India along the Ganges River, in the 1930s, on the eve of Indian independence. The movie begins with a young girl, Chuyia, probably no older than 7 years, who replies "no" when she is asked whether she remembers her wedding. The child is then told that her husband is dead, and that she is now a widow. Her father takes Chuyia to compound where widows go to live. The compound is filled with mostly older women, all clothed in white saris. Chuyia pleads with her father not to leave her, but he does.

In the compound, Chuyia befriends a young and beautiful widow, Kalyani, who lives in a small room with a small black puppy that she keeps in secret. Later we find out that one of the older widows prostitutes Kalyani out to rich men across the river. One day while Chuyia and Kalyani are out walking, they meet a young man, Narayan, who has just finished his law studies. Narayan is a progressive thinker and a follower of Mahatma Gandhi. When they meet, Narayan and Kalyani are immediately attracted to one another, and Narayan starts trying to find a way to meet Kalyani again. I won't give anything else away, because I don't want to ruin the story.

According to the film, 34 million widows currently live in India, many in situations of deprivation and inequality, as depicted in the film.

Water is the third film in a trilogy that explores themes of gender, religion, and the movement for Indian Independence. The trilogy also includes "Fire" and "Earth." All of the films have been marked by controversy, mainly as a result of fundamentalist hindu protests against the films. I saw Fire, and thought that it was an incredible film. It's the story of a young girl in New Dehli who enters a loveless arranged marriage, but then forms a friendship with her sister-in-law. I have yet to see Earth, but it's in my Netflix Queue.

Since I'm on the subject of Indian movies, two others that I have seen and loved are "Monsoon Wedding" and "Bride and Prejudice." Monsoon Wedding explores serious themes, such as adultery, arranged marriages, love, class, and incest, against the backdrop of extravagant preparations for a wedding in North India. It's a story about a family and there love for their daughters, which is always a beautiful thing to see. Bride and Prejudice, as you can probably guess, is "Pride and Prejudice" Indian-style in the spirit of Bollywood. It's a fun, entertaining movie. Bride and Prejudice stars Aishwarya Rai, one of the most stunningly gorgeous women I've ever seen.

Go see them all. They're wonderful.

Two Little Girls

After a party at BLVD, one French martini, two kir royals, three games of pool, and hours of dancing with and without blue glowsticks (we were emulating the x-ed out people, not partaking), I found myself at an afterhours party down in Tribeca in the early hours of Sunday morning. When we arrived, I volunteered to get drinks for our group of three, so Ernest and Raj had a seat on a couch while I went up to the bar. While I was waiting to get the bartender's attention, a girl came up to the bar and edged in next to me, also to get some drinks.

Standing side by side, both of us waiting for the bartender, the girl said to me, "Try hypnotic on the rocks. It's so good." I looked at her and found a pretty young girl with long brown hair, smiling at me with her eyes sparkling as if she was letting me in on a secret. I asked, "Hypnotic?" She replied, "Yeah, most bars don't have it, so we're lucky," and flashed me another warm, mischievous smile.

At that moment the bartender came over, and the girl ordered two hypnotics. She said, "You'll see, you're going to love it." I wasn't sure if she was ordering two for her, or if one of the drinks was for me. I glanced back and Raj and Ernest. They seemed to be doing fine, so I turned back to the bar. A man had come up behind my new friend. She was clearly acquainted with him, because she snuggled up against him. It was dark, and he had a hat pulled down low over his eyes, so I didn't get a clear look at his face. He seemed several years older than my friend.

The bartender came back with two plastic cups filled with turquoise liquid on the rocks. The girl took one, and passed one to me. As she did so, she turned to face me fully, away from the man behind her, and said, again with a smile, "Don't worry it's on Javiar's tab." And then with a small nod toward the man behind her, she mouthed, "He's so hot," and started giggling. She then told me that her name was KC.

I was intrigued by KC, and her dynamic with Javiar, but also conscious that Raj and Ernest were by now probably waiting on their drinks, wondering what was taking so long. I motioned in their direction - they were only about 15 feet away - and said to the KC, "I have to get them a beer and a water. They're going to be wondering what's happened to me." She asked, "Oh, is that your man?" And I replied, "Yes." I asked her what the deal was with Javiar, and she told me that she had met Javiar at a party like the one we were at, and that he had been crashing at her place for the last week. She also said that the party was Javiar's. Some of Javiar's friends came up to the bar, and one of them started talking to me. I politely pushed him off, and then waved past him at Raj who was looking at KC and I.

The bartender came back towards us and before I could place my order, KC told her to get us a beer and a water. As the drinks were coming back to us, Javiar, who had paid us both very little attention up until now, leaned in and said to KC and I, "Just tip her our out, and you're all set." I thought to myself, of course. Tipping the bartender out was the least I could do after getting free drinks on Javiar's tab. I started rummaging in my purse for dollars. KC tried to say something nice to the bartender, and the bartender gave her attitude, so then KC told her to get us two more hypnotics. By then, my first drink was almost all gone.

I realized I only had a five dollar bill, and held it up to KC, thinking that it would not be enough to tip out the bartender, attitude or not. I said, "This is all I have, but I'll put the drinks on my card." KC looked in her purse and started counting out bills, smiling and telling me not to worry. I said, "KC, that is so sweet, but you really don't have to do that. I'll just put the drinks on my card." KC looked at me and said, "It's ok, we're both in the same boat here, right?" As if to say that we both had to look out for one another. I immediately felt like she was right. How rare is that, to find a genuine feeling of sisterhood in an afterhours party over blue hypnotics?

We continued chatting, and I eventually went back to the boys and brought them their drinks and sat down. KC talked to Javiar for a bit up at the bar, and then came and sat down next to me. Now it was the four of us sitting on the couch in the middle of the floor of the party. The place was getting more and more crowded. Javiar was moving through the party from group to group, not paying a whole lot of attention to KC. KC was sitting next to me watching Javiar. She said to me, "He's on coke. He offered some to me but I don't do that shit." I said, "That's good. You should stay away from that stuff." I then asked her a bit more about herself and Javiar. She told me that she was a freshman at John Jay college, and that she was from Maine. It was becoming clear to me that Javiar was bad news, and that KC was far to sweet to be with him. We were both a little giddy. Me from the night, the hypnotics, dancing and flirting with Raj earlier, and now this interaction with KC.

We had only been sitting down for a few minutes, and KC said, "Let's make Javiar jealous. Can I kiss you?" I remember giggling, and I must have looked at her uncertainly because she said, indicating Raj, who was sitting beside me and watching this exchange closely, "He won't mind. This is every guy's fantasy." I was thinking that that was probably true, but said, "You'll have to ask him." (Mad points for me). KC leaned across me and said to Raj, "Come on, I can kiss her right?" We were both staring at him smiling. He didn't say anything, but he nodded his head and kept watching. Then KC and I kissed. I was aware that Ernest, by that point, had quietly gotten up off of his end of the couch and walked around so that he could see better what was happening between KC and I. We kissed a few times, then paused. Then kissed again. I was aware that the night had taken a crazy, rather delicious twist. I was wondering what Raj was thinking.

Soon after, KC got up to follow Javiar off into the crowd. Raj, Ernest, and I stayed a little while longer, finishing our drinks and talking. I think both of the boys were a bit dazed, as was I. Ernest wanted to know if there had been tongue involved, and I said no and explained the obvious, that girls don't like having tongues shoved down their throats. Ernest said, "What do you mean? You don't like kissing with tongue?" He seemed genuinely curious, so I explained that sometimes tongue is nice, mainly when you are in the heat of it, but not all the time. Ipromptu kissing lesson.

Then, we stumbled outside to find the sky already glowing a pale morning blue. It was 6 am.

Chocolate For Your Soul

"What are you going to do to take care of yourself?" my therapist asked me during the last five minutes of our session last night.

I had been surprisingly emotional. Surprising not because I was emotional, but because of what I had been emotional about. I had been planning to talk about work and my fears for the future, but instead I ended up talking about my relationship with my family.

As I was about to start gathering up my things, CG asked me what I was going to do to take care of myself after I left her office. I looked at her and said, "I feel like having some chocolate," and then added, "but I know that wouldn't be good for me." CG said, "What are you going to do to be nice to yourself?," meaning that eating chocolate, which would inevitably make me feel guilty and probably give me a stomach ache, was not the epitome of "being nice" to myself. She then asked whether I enjoyed getting 10-minute massages at nail places. Who doesn't?

At her suggestion, I ended up going to get a manicure after my session. Nail places are very hit or miss in NY, but I was lucky last night. The manicurist did an excellent job, and then I splurged and paid $13 dollars extra for a 10-minute massage. A young Korean guy named Jay did the massage honors and he was awesome. He had strong hands, used the perfect amount of pressure, and basically turned all of the stress that I had been carrying around in my back into liquid. I felt like warm, worked-over putty by the time that I got up from the chair. It was so awesome. Prior to the massage, I wasn't going to tip him because I had rationalized that I was already paying $13 extra. However, by the end of the massage I was so filled with gratitude that I decided to give him a tip. He truly was amazing. I'm going back for sure.

CG had a good idea. She said that weekly rituals where you take time for yourself can be "self-soothing" (which is another stress-busting concept we're working on together) and another type of coping strategy. Not that life should be all about coping, but rather that you should be equipped with different strategies to cope with stress and to keep yourself happy and balanced. You should make time to take care of yourself, to do things that act like chocolate for your soul. How divine does that sound?

Weekly manicures + massage are a great treat, but at $25 a pop they could get somewhat expensive. Especially for a girl looking to ditch her corporate existence and bank account. Weekly, and sometimes every-other-day, bubble baths, are an excellent ritual that I used to practice religiously in my old apartment, but I've run into some snags in my new abode.

Another idea I've had, but have yet to implement, is making a concerted effort to get out into nature at least once a week, or at least a couple times a month. I've always known that being out among the trees, or on the water, is good for me. It does the job of a 90 minute massage in about five minutes. Being out among the greenery was one reason Connecticut was such a wonderful experience. That's something Simone reminded of me during our last phone conversation.

So, so far my tentative list of self-soothing rituals that I am trying to incorporate into my life includes the following (notice that shopping, chocolate, wine, and mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, though they work damn well sometimes, are not on my aspirational list):

1) Manicure + mini-massages
2) Spending time outside among the trees or on the water
3) Bubble baths
4) Yoga
5) Reading a good book (I'm just about to finish "Never Let me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro, it's great).
6) Meditation (aspirational)
7) Acupuncture
8) Journal Writing regularly
9) All things lavender (such as oil, satiny eye packs, soap, etc.)

All of these have in common being internally still, which is something I've always known that I need for my sense of well-being. I've found this through art in the past, and may need to put that on the list in some way. Maybe a painting class?

I need to be silent and still, and to give myself time to think. It's how I recharge and re-energize. It's amazingly hard though, especially in New York, and particularly in this job, to find time to be still (and not racked by guilt). So often it seems like I'm either working (or of late willfully not working) or trying to have fun. There's no in between. (I was just thinking I bet moms reading this are rolling their eyes in disbelief. I'm childless. I have only me to worry about, but look at all the issues I have just handling that! Good Lord.).

What do you do to take care of yourself?

LOST Redux

This is a spoiler, so read at your own risk.

The episode opened with Echo having a dream in which Ana-Lucia comes to him on the beach and tells him that he must help John. As she tells him this, blood appears trickling from her mouth and on her chest. Still dreaming, Echo enters the hatch where he finds his brother, Yemi. Yemi tells Echo that good work is happening in the hatch that is more important than Echo knows. Yemi tells Echo that he must help John find the question mark, and that if John refuses, Echo must force him. John has lost his way, and Echo should bring his axe.

Back at the hatch in real time, Sawyer, Jack, Kate, and John discover Michael just outside of the hatch. Michael claims that he heard gunshots, and then a man (Imposter Henry Gale) shot him in the arm. They find Ana-Lucia dead, but Libby, as predicted, is alive. Libby coughs up blood, but remains unconscious. John and Echo, who arrived at the hatch after his dream, go off into the woods to find Henry Gale's trail.

Jack, glaring at Sawyer, says, regarding Libby, that it doesn't look good and that all he can do is make her comfortable. When Sawyer asks Jack why he's glaring at him, Jack says, "the heroine." Sawyer gets up to get the heroine from his stash and Jack tells Kate to go with him to discover the location of the guns. As the only other option is to let Libby suffer, Sawyer stalks off and says, "Let's go Freckles." Sawyer leads Kate to the hut where he sleeps. All this time, Sawyer's stash has been hidden in a hole underneath his bedding. Sawyer gives Kate one of the Madonna statues filled with heroine. As they turn to go back to the hatch, Hurley approaches them and asks if they have seen Libby. Kate sadly tells him what has happened.

Off in the woods, Echo tells John that he must take Echo to the question mark. Locke refuses, and Echo head butts him so that he falls to the ground unconscious. Later, when John wakes up, Echo tells him again that he must take him to the question mark. John shows Echo the drawing he made of the map that he saw on the hatch door during the time when John's leg was trapped under the door. He gives it to Echo and tells him that he can have it. Together, they go off into the woods in search of the question mark.

After some time, they come across the place where Locke and Boone found the plane used by the heroine smugglers, and the site of Boone's untimely death. About that, Locke says that it was a "sacrifice" demanded by the island. When Echo questions him, Locke says it was nothing. Echo says they will make camp and wait for the next sign.

They make camp, and that night Locke has a dream. In the dream, Locke is Echo, and Echo wakes to Yemi speaking to him in the jungle. Yemi tells Echo (who is actually Locke dreaming) that he must follow him, and he leads Echo to climb up a large tree on the edge of Echo and Locke's camp. Just as Echo gets to the top of the tree, he finds himself staring face to face with Yemi in a wheelchair. Yemi says, "wake up Locke," as Echo falls to the ground.

Suddenly, in real time, Locke wakes with a gasp, and Echo asks him what happened. He says, you had dream didn't you, and asks whether there was a man in it. Echo tells John that the man in his dream was his brother, and that this is the way they are going to find the question mark.

Echo asks whether Yemi told John anything, and John tells Echo that Yemi told him to follow him and looks up at the tree standing on the edge of their campsite. Just as it was depicted in John's dream, Echo uses his axe to climb to the top of the tree. On the top, he looks out at the jungle and then down at the camp. He sees Locke standing next to the plane, which looks like a large arrow, and just past the plane he sees a large half circle etched into the ground. He realizes the plane is lying on top of another hatch: the site of Locke's question mark.

Locke and Echo push aside the plane and find underneath it another hatch. With the help of Echo's axe, they pull open the door to the hatch and expose another dark hole boring down into the earth. They climb down and find themselves in a different type of hatch, a monitoring station that looks like it has been long since abandoned. The lights work, as do several TV monitors that Locke flicks on. Some show a field of white TV fuzz, but one shows the Castaway's hatch, and Jack moving around inside it. In the monitoring hatch, Echo finds an Orientation Manual and Tape 5 (of 6).

On the tape is the same man we saw on the first tape. The man explains that the viewers will stay for 3 weeks within the monitoring hatch. During that time they will observe the inhabitants of another hatch and they will record every single detail, however slight, of the inhabitants' movements. The viewers are told that the inhabitants of the other hatch believe that they are doing something of the utmost importance, but no further details are given. The viewers are supposed to record the details in the notebooks that have been provided. Once a notebook is completed, the viewers are supposed to roll up the notebook and place it into a shoot where it is whisked away to the Dharma people. The man ends the video by saying, "Namaste," which in Hindi means, "I honor the Spirit in you which is also in me." Incidentally, while Locke and Echo are down in the hatch exploring, Locke places the piece of paper with his sketch on it into the shoot and it is immediately whisked away.

Echo gathers the papers together, and Lockes looks at him and asks why he is bothering to take the papers. Echo replies that the papers could be important to the work going on in the hatch, to which Locke replies that pushing the button in the hatch is just as meaningless as his whole life has been. Echo responds by telling Locke how he betrayed his brother Yemi, how Yemi's body was loaded onto a smuggler's plane that crashed on the island, how Echo's plane crashed on the very same island, and how Echo was reunited with his dead brother on the very site of this hatch. He asks how Locke can say there is no meaning in all of that, and says that if Locke is not going to push the button anymore, Echo will do it because he believes it is of the utmost importance. They set off back for the hatch.

Back at the hatch, Hurley sits mournfully as Libby lies unconscious. Hurley says to Michael that he and Libby were going to go on their first date. He also tells Michael that he's happy Michael's ok. Michael looked a little surprised, and perhaps a touch guilty. Later, Hurely goes to Libby's bedside to talk with her. He tells her twice that he's so sorry he forgot the blanket, which was rather heartbreaking. Suddenly, Libby's eyes open and Hurley and Jack move to her side. Libby tries to speak, and finally manages to say, "Michael." Jack attempts to reassure her by telling her that Michael made it, and Libby starts twisting and moaning and looks terrified, although I'm not sure that Jack and Hurley notice her terror. Then she dies.

Kate sits in a corner crying and Sawyer comes over to her and takes her in his arms. That, incidentally is why we all love Sawyer. He's a tough guy who we all suspect is good underneath, he is strong, and he comes through when he is needed. Same with Sayid. Sayid's even better because Sayid has shown the capacity to love and even to cry. But I digress.

As Sawyer comforts Kate, we see Michael standing in the shadows of Henry Gale's abandoned cell holding his wounded arm. He looks evil. Where is the loving father we once knew?

* * *

Scenes From look awesome. Sawyer has a shot gun, Michael seems to have been captured by the others, and Clair is involved somehow. Sayid tells Jack that he thinks Michael has been "compromised." Sayid is so smart. It looks like mayhem is breaking out. OMG.

Questions and Comments:

1) WTF is going on with Michael? What is wrong with him. I am still leaning towards the idea that he was brainwashed by the Others.

2) Poor Ana-Lucia! I'm so sad. She was totally bad-ass, and now she is gone, and right after having sex with Sawyer! Hello!?

3) Libby's dead too? Perhaps the producers of Lost were really pissed about the two drunk driving incidents. Does this mean we never find out Libby's story?

4) What the hell is going on in the hatch? Why would that so-called "work" be important, and how could the island have pulled all these people together and why? We still have no answers.

5) Namaste? Another clue?

6) I tried to get onto the website that they showed in the commercial but was unable to. I'm not sure I got the correct spelling. Was it www.syblymonal.com. Subliminal what? Another clue.

7) Non-Lost question: Does anyone know how to make sure spaces between paragraphs pop up in posts? I've had problems lately with this, hence all the space-saving periods.

Kick-ass episode!

Forget Cleavage, Pants Drive Men Wild

I have a job interview today. It is with an excellent organization that does women's rights work, including litigation, in the areas of employment discrimination, violence against women, and criminal law issues for both adults and juveniles. I'm nervous for many reasons. I don't know if I want to work for them because I don't think the job is my "ideal" job. My ideal job would allow me to work - doing actually litigation, and not just policy work - on anti-trafficking, asylum, and/or reproductive rights issues in an international context. Even if I decide that I do want to work for them, I don't know whether they'll like me. Interviews are like the bar exams: crap shoots. One never knows.

I dressed carefully this morning in a dark navy blue suit with tiny white pinstripes. The suit, from Club Monaco, sounds far more conservative based upon my description than it looks. It has a cute cut, the pants are slim fitting but flare out just enough to be flattering, the jacket is nicely tailored and shows a little bit of my curves while being completely professional. I'm wearing a white shell underneath with a single strand pearl necklace and simple pearl earrings. I'm slightly worried the pearls are too conservative, too law-firm, but on the other hand I love pearls. They are simple, professional, and beautiful, so I went with them.

I went with a pant-suit, instead of a skirt-suit for two main reasons. First, pant suits are more "feminist" in my mind, more progressive and sassy, than the uber formal conservative skirt suits that the law firm favors. Skirt suits, though I am rather partial to them because it's so damn hard to find pants that fit nice, feel more corporate to me. Second, the Dragon Lady hates pant suits. Yes, the uber bitch female law firm partner that I work for hates pant suits. I have heard stories of her telling off female associates for wearing pant suits. She thinks skirt suits are more formal. The anti-feminist bitch. It's not really that I'm wearing pants because of her, but more that her dislike of pant suits confirms in my mind how feminist pant suits actually are. Plus, I have a meeting with her today, and I'm relishing the idea of walking into her office all done up and in my 2 1/2 inch heels. I'll be taller than her.

Speaking of heels, I blame the attention that I got this morning in part on them. That and the fact that men have an uncomfortable propensity to act like dogs in heat. Outside my building there is a construction site and each day I need to walk past approximately 5-10 construction workers. I'm aware, and largely immune to their looks. I've perfected the art of ignoring unwanted male attention. It's one of woman's most basic survival skills. Not that I'm saying there aren't times when it's necessary to tell men off for their borderline harassment. But it's a tricky issue. Men are more easy to control, and it's more easy to keep your body safe, when the men aren't roused to anger and when you can keep them at a distance. I'm simplifying here, because the way to deal with street harassment is not the main point of this story.

Usually I get looks from the construction workers and men in general. In my opinion, this isn't because I'm particularly beautiful. In fact, it's not about me at all, but about the men. Men in our society have this sense of entitlement that makes them think that they can eye every woman that walks by them like they are pieces of succulent meat roasting on a spit. Despite all the talk over the last fifteen years about sexual harassment, and street harassment in particular, men also appear to still be operating under the painful delusion that women will be flattered by their unwanted attention. Wrong, boys.

For example, yesterday as I was coming back from acupuncture treatment, I stopped on the corner of 86th and Amsterdam and waited for the light to change so that I could cross the street. While I was waiting, I suddenly heard a voice right behind me and to my left say, "I'm only going to ask one thing." The voice was so close, I knew the comment was directed at me, so I inclined my head slightly to the left to see what kind of lunatic had approached me. It was a white man in his late 50s, balding, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase. He met my glance with a look of rapt appreciation and said, "How tall are you?" He didn't appear threatening, I don't like to be rude as a general matter, and I was on a public street in the middle of the day surrounded by at least 200 people, so I said, "5' 10." He said, shaking his head in admiration and roving his eyes up and down my body, "It's a wonderful thing."

I ever so slightly curved my lips into the briefest of smiles (far more than he deserved, I know!), and looked away to wait for the light. Harmless and Creep, I thought to myself. I knew that he had obviously checked out my ass, because he had come up behind me. I had also seen him openly eye me up and down, and then act as if he was flattering me. On the other hand, what he said was not so blatantly offensive as to warrant a public dressing down. So I let it pass and ignored him until the light changed. Pig. I'm sure he was married. This kind of thing happens all the time, and it wasn't worth it for me to engage with him.

As I left my house this morning, I was trying hard to walk straight in my heels. I'm partial to kitten heels (about 1 1/2 inches), and haven't worn 2 1/2 inch heels for months. I only wore the tall ones today because my kitten heels are trashed and I didn't want to look scruffy at the interview. I was a little wobbly. I shut the door tight behind me and started down the sidewalk. Not fifteen feet ahead of me was the construction crew. I couldn't help but notice them because they were directly in my line of sight. Two were shoveling rubble to the left of the sidewalk, and five or six were to the right of the sidewalk, one in the back of a truck, and the others on the street loading debris into the truck and unloading supplies. Apparently, they noticed me as well.

Coming up even with the construction crew I opted to glance to the left and say good morning to one guy, while looking for the most part straight ahead. There is always this dilemma. Do you say good morning, or do you just ignore them all and look straight ahead? If I wasn't certain that they would be looking at me, I wouldn't think twice about saying good morning, but I don't like meeting the stares when they're checking me out. It's awkward, it runs the risk of making them think you are interested in them (remember men are delusional), and it creates a second dilemma: whether to let their stares and comments pass, or whether to chew them out?

When I glanced at the guy on my left to say good morning to him, I found him already staring dumbly straight at me. Shit, now he thought I was paying attention to him. Gross. To get away from that awkwardness, I glanced to my right and saw that all of the men on my right had just stopped working and were staring openly at me. The guy in the back of the truck had stood up from his stooped position, and was leaning on his shovel checking me out. It was like a bad diet coke commercial in reverse.

I focused my eyes again straight ahead of me and continued on past them without saying anything more. When I was about 5 feet away, I heard one of them say, "Beautiful," and a few others murmur in agreement. They said it loud enough so that I was sure they wanted me to hear it. For "beautiful," I couldn't really chew them out, but my god, why do men have to act so often like they are sex-crazed dogs that have just been let out of their cages?

I walked to the end of the street and turned to my left towards the Penn Station subway stop. I thought that I had received my allotment of street harassment for the day but I was wrong. A cabbie whistled loudly out his window at me. I felt a glimmer self-consciousness, and then reminded myself that that was ridiculous. I most certainly am not going to blame myself because so many men find it difficult to control themselves.

Not that I appreciate the comments of the construction workers or the cabbie, but I did find myself thinking that it would work to my advantage if my interviewers thought that I looked as smashing as my morning admirers apparently did. Hopefully they will also be impressed with my brains, experience, credentials, and commitment to women's rights. The things street harassers never see because they're too busy salivating and straining at their bits.

I See Naked People

This springtime, along with other appointments I have made, the cats go to the vet, I get my 6 month cleaning, I also made an appointment to see a dermatologist. I have been getting some red bumps on my neck and face (doesn't look like acne) and I have had some new growths since the last time I have been (7 years ago). 1st off I have been fortunate with my skin, I tan pretty easily, I get some acne, but for the most part, my skin is fair and pretty clear of acne. 2nd, I have never had some scary growths that could be cancerous, so I am very grateful for that...and cross my fingers I never do.

So I arrive at my appointment ready to go with a copy of my insurance card, and forms already filled out with co-pay in hand. The receptionist was impressed. She directs me into the back where the nurse leads me to "the room." I am shy but knowing the doctor will check my body for strange things, I know I must be an adult and get into the robe. I do this leaving my panties and bra on and I elect to keep my shoes and socks on too. (I looked way cuter than this dude over here.)

The doctor comes into the room and begins asking me questions, I tell him I have a wierd "mole" looking growth on my bikini line and of course he wants to see it, so I carefully peel back the robe so he can only see that area above my undies. (Chest with bra of course on and underwear area still intact and covered by my robe). He was a cute doctor, you could tell he kind of laughed/smiled at my shyness. He then says to me, "Dont worry I see many people naked." At that point I didn't know really what to do. I could hide or be mature and let him look around for himself. So, with me still holding my robe in place he scoped out my body for other strange things.

I showed him my other main concern which was a mole that is in the middle of my boobs but dropped down about 1 inch. This "thing" is the reason why I went to the dermatologist 7 years ago, they had sliced it off and it had grown back. Gross, I know. He freeze dried my age spot, and freeze dried 3 more areas, and proceeded to look over my back and my legs to tell me well, "there are some that we will save for your next visit, but why don't we go ahead and numb you up. That one that grew back is bothering me so we are going to punch that one out." (I would have brought Tex to squeeze his hand had I known what they were going to do next).

The nurse injected my "grow-back-mole-reject" with some anestethia a few times. I gritted my teeth and clenched both hands. Then, the doctor re-enters with what looks like one of those cool long eraser things that everyone had when you were in middle schoool. Well, the doctor missed out, he didn't have an eraser, he had a punch thing that he so kindly came over to my chest and punched out my mole. I WASNT NUMB YET. At this point I gritted my teeth more, and I think I said "Holy Shit. Whew, I wasn't ready for that one." He seemed concerned and asked "did you feel that?" And I replied "yes, but if you need to stitch that please hurry, I don't like this." He did as I wished...5 stitches (I didn't wish these but they had to be done)...I gritted my teeth and hung in there while I felt each stitch being made. It hurt. I was very happy that it was over. This was friday, the next two days, I couldn't wear a bra, if I did, it would rub the stitches and hurt badly. But nothing could have prepared me for Monday.

Also, while at the dermatologist, he said the bumps on my neck and face were acne and he had a simple solution for that. He prescribed me "Tetracycline" which is an anti-biotic for acne...one pill in the morning and one in the night. [ON BOTTLE: TAKE ON EMPTY STOMACH, DO NOT DRINK DAIRY]. I like starting medication on a monday so I get into a schedule of taking it in the morning and evening. So, monday morning, I woke up, took a pill, avoided my glass of milk that I love deeply, and continued getting ready for work.

As I blew dry my hair, from my waist down, my legs became numb, I became nauseated, I couldn't keep my eyes open, and my stomach had a piercing pain. I tried to ignore it, so I got in my car and began to drive away to work. I made it to the bottom of my dirt road and began to cry, I couldn't see very well, and the numbness and pain intesified. My chest started to tighten and breathing was becoming hard. I called my husband and he hurried down to me.

Long story short...I couldn't go to work yesterday, monday, my husband called the doctor's office and the receptionist didn't know what to do, so Tex called the pharmacist who confirmed that I was having an allergic reaction to the medication and to stop taking it immediately. Now, the small amount of acne I do have, you can not see, but because I had an allergic reaction I got a rash last night all over the left side of my face. So, if don't have bad acne, don't try for better skin with medicaiton you really don't need, and if you need answers quickly, don't call the doctor's office, call the pharmacist. Remember: Today is a Good Day.

Odd Couple

This is what I used to be afraid of looking like when I was in Sixth Grade and taller than all the boys because they had not yet hit puberty and their much awaited growth spurts:

Courtesy of the Green Straw

No, this is not a picture of Tom Cruise posing with a Giant Drag Queen. This painfully awkward picture is Katie Holmes hunching her post pregnant body over Tom Cruise's in a futile effort to make him appear like less of a midget. If she's going to hunch over like that, why wear heels? On the other hand, she may just be exhausted at having just given birth and annoyed at Tommy Boy for forcing her to parade around all dolled up on the red carpet.

Katie is going to have some serious posture and back problems, if she keeps this up. Why doesn't she just force Tom to undergo leg extension surgery? Maybe that's banned by scientology. On another note, how can Katie enjoy sex with Tom Cruise? Her thigh is almost twice as long as his. He is a koala bear to her gazelle. It would be like making out with a deranged puppet. Call me a traditionalist, but there's nothing erotic to me about making out with a man you're afraid to break.

They are the weirdest celebrity couple ever.

Technically Challenged

Buttercup: This mouse won't work. [Shaking the mouse and pressing all of it's buttons, trying to make the cursor move on my laptop's screen]. What's wrong with your computer?

Raj: [Focused on watching TV]. Why are you breaking my computer?

Buttercup: It won't work. What's wrong with it? [Becoming frustrated. Shaking and now hitting mouse lightly against the desk to see if it would magically click back to life]. Isn't the light supposed to be on on the bottom?

Raj: Seriously, what did you do to the computer? [Becoming concerned, Raj comes over to the desk where I've been sitting working on my laptop infront of the larger desktop computer, and starts checking all the connections to the desktop. Meanwhile, I continue to click and swivel the mouse, but nothing happens on my computer screen. I'm starting to get concerned that I broke the mouse to Raj's desktop].

Buttercup: [Suddenly, and sheepishly] Oh.

Raj: [Still bent down checking the connections]. What?

Buttercup: I'm working on my laptop. [Realizing that of course the mouse to Raj's desktop would not be capable of moving the cursor on my laptop's screen].

Raj: I can't believe you. [Smiling].

Two Chill May Days

A relaxing weekend at last. Hallelujah.

Yesterday, I stayed in bed late with Raj, and then the two of us went for a run down along the Hudson River Park. We started at 30th street, ran west towards the river, and then continued South all the way down to Battery Park until we could see the Statue of Liberty. How cool is that? It was a gorgeous day, and hundreds of people were out lazing around on the grassy areas between the piers, and walking, roller-blading, and bike-riding on the trail that runs along the river. In the beginning of the run I thought I was going to die - it was so hot and I was so tired - but I managed to press on and got in a decent work-out.

Here's a list of my Top 12 Running Songs:

1) I Need A Hero - Bonnie Tyler
2) Numb - Linkin Park
3) Run Rabbit Run - Eminem
4) Take It Off - The Donnas
5) Are You Out There - Dar Williams
6) Dammit - Blink 182
7) You Can Hate Me Now - Nas
8) In Da Club - 50 Cent
9) Lady Killer - Lush
10) Since You've Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson
11) I'm A Survivor - Destiny's Child
12) Fighter - Christina Aguilera

I challenge anyone to turn these on and not go running. You won't be able to help yourself. Those are the ones that are in my ipod work-out mix at the moment. Do share if you have others to add.

After the run, I watched the end of Stanley Kubrick's Lolita, which was nothing like I had expected it to be, but a good movie nonetheless. I expected to see a precocious, highly sexual temptress, and disturbing love scenes between a young girl and an older man. The scenes were disturbing, but not for the reasons I had expected. The man who plays her lover was disturbing because he was a pathetic, controlling lecher. He basically spirits Lolita away after her mother dies, and pursues a highly inappropriate sexual relationship with her. Later, he forbids her from going on dates, doing extracurricular activities, or spending time like a normal teenager because he wants her all to himself, isolated from others her age so that he can keep her trapped in a relationship with him. It was rather revolting. How could he have thought that she loved him, or wanted to be with him? He was at least 30 years older than her.

Lolita herself was no innocent, and she exercised a great deal of control over her relationship with the lecher, but she did nothing blameworthy. While she stayed with him, he fawned over her, bought her whatever she wanted, and took her where ever she wanted to go. She "cheated" on him with several other men, and created elaborate lies to keep him her dedicated servant while she was out satisfying her desires. For duping the lecher, Lolita has been vilified as a temptress. But that vilification is completely misplaced because the lecher had no business being with her in the first place.

It's crazy that from this movie has endured an image of a precocious female temptress. What should have endured is the image of a pathetic lecher. Clearly, our society is more disturbed, fascinated, and titilated by young girls as sexual beings, than it is revolted by lecherous males praying upon them. By the way, the actress who played Lolita was fantastic.

After Lolita, Raj and I met a friend for a drink at a bar called Heathers. It's a chill place in the East Village, located behind an unmarked door on 13th street between A and B. I like discovering hidden bars and restaurants. It gives me the illusion of being in the know. So far I've "discovered" (i.e., my friends have taken me there) Heathers in the East Village, APT in the Meatpacking District (at 419 West 13th Street), and Passer By, also in the Meatpacking District (at West 15th near 10th). APT is a great place to go if you want to observe the New York scene over wine and cheese. Passer By is a tiny bar with a disco floor made up of lighted colored tiles, where T-shirts and jeans reign supreme, and the bartenders make a mean French Martini.

Speaking of bars, I also recently went to Grotto down in the Lower East Side. It's at 100 Forsyth Street in a narrow basement space. They have awesome cocktails, including a raspberry mojito made with fresh raspberries. Yum.

Fighting The Tide

The shit is hitting the fan today at work. Last night, I got an email from a partner requesting my assistance on a matter that would require approximately 50% of my time for the next 3-6 months. My reaction to the email was "shit," along with a sinking feeling in my stomach. It would be impossible to do 50% more work, while continuing to do all of my pro bono cases, and doing all the positive life things I have been trying to do (i.e. therapy, acupuncture, yoga, the gym, blogging, writing, reading, hanging out with Raj, socializing, etc.). In other words, it would seriously cut in to my efforts to have a life. Yes it's true, I am a law firm associate, but I want a life. Is that so wrong?

This morning, I responded by committing the cardinal sin for associates. I said "no." Politely, of course. But I still said "no." It didn't go over so well. The partner wrote me a stern email in response which included, among other things: (1) a reminder that while pro bono work is encouraged, it should never take precedence over work for paying clients; (2) a summary of my billable hours pointing out that I had only spent approximately 1/4 of my time on paying clients during the last few months, and 3/4 of it on my pro bono work, and that my billables were "below the average" for the department (that one stung); and (3) an admonition that the amount of time I was spending on pro bono work was unacceptable, and that I would need to get assistance with my pro bono work so that I could take on more work for paying clients. In other words, the message was: cut down your pro bono work, and take on additional work from paying clients.

Stab me in the heart. Nothing in the email was a surprise, nor even unreasonable, considering that I'm working for a firm that likes to make money. It was a bit unreasonable in light of the fact that I billed over 3,000 hours on my large case from hell last year, but partners don't care about that. While the billing is good, the partners don't care. They don't care that I bleed myself dry last year. They only care now, when they see my hours are down, and that the hours that I am putting in are 75% for pro bono work. (I actually didn't know it was so high for pro bono. Yikes. On the other hand, that's what I actually want to do, so perhaps I should be pleased.)

A few days ago, Wordnerd left me the following comment: "I wonder why you feel that your success as a person is tied to this firm....a firm you don't even like...I just wonder why you've put so much importance on making THIS place work when there are so many other places to work." It's a good question, and this morning I started thinking about it again. The quick answer is that I don't want to be a "bad associate." I don't want to be a person who doesn't do well, and when a partner tells you that your hours are not up to par you feel like a loser. Or at least I do. At least initially. I like succeeding, not being a loser.

Six months into this job, I had a breakthrough in understanding why I hated working in this law firm so much while talking with Valley-Bee, a woman who co-clerked with me for my Judge my first year out of law school. She told me that it's not that I'm a failure, it's that my law firm and I are operating on different standards. My standard is merit-based. I want to do my best work, and I want to be appreciated for that work. I also want to work on things that I care about that make a difference. My law firm, however, doesn't give a shit about associates doing their best work. They want associates to do good enough work, and a lot of it. They want to see hours, and they want to see the cash rolling in from their paying clients. They don't care - not really - about pro bono work because pro bono work has nothing to do with their bottom line. And they don't care about associates having enough time to do their best work, because that gets in the way of associates flipping from project to project, churning out as much work as possible for as many paying clients as possible.

Talking with Valley-Bee almost thirteen months ago (holy shit the time has flown!), I finally felt like I "got it." I'm a perfectionist. I can work quickly and I can multi-task, but my version of multi-tasking is not doing two things, or nine things, at the exact same time. Who can do that really? My version of multi-tasking is having a long view of what needs to get done and when, and organizing and dividing my time so that I can get everything that needs to get done, done. Here, at the law firm, they don't like associates planning their own schedules. They don't like perfectionists who draw boundaries. They like to micro-manage, and when they tell an associate to jump, they expect that an associate will ask "how high." I did that for the first year. But now, not only have I stopped asking "how high," I've stopped jumping. They don't like it. Not one bit.

They don't like associates following their own standards of excellence or meaning. They want their associates to follow their standard, which is putting in a lot of hours for work that pays. I want quality and significance. They want quantity and money.

Even though I know this intellectually, my partner's email made me feel, emotionally, like a failure because he told me that my billables were below where they should be. He told ME that I was "below average." I've never ever been below average in anything that I have ever done. Never.

The over-achiever in me started jumping up an down, yelling, "I can do it! I can suck it up! I want to do good work! I want you all to think I'm a stellar associate! I want to be powerful! I want to get to the top! Give me more assignments! Give me more work!." The over-achiever has been running the show since I was 12 (or earlier), and it's hard for the softer side of me - the one who knows what's really important in life - to fight her sometimes. It's so easy to get swept up in her confidence, strength, and ambition. She doesn't know that what she seeks actually hurts me. "Success" in this firm, the way they define success, has only brought me unhappiness.

(The over-achiever wants me to remind you all that success has also brought me a ton of practical skills, a loaded resume, the ability to do my pro bono work, money, and has toughened me up. Thank you over-achiever for sharing that. Now please sit down.)

Wordnerd is right. I can't let them make me care that I am not living up to their standards. I can't let them manipulate my desire to want to achieve and do well. My desire to be seen as a success. As long as I am living up to my standards, I am not a failure. Far from it.

My amazing powers of diplomacy bought me a little more time, but another assignment is just around the corner. I can feel it coming. Probably next week. In addition to that dismal prospect, the Dragon Lady continues to terrorize my days of late. I had to go to the She-Beast's office yesterday. I diligently pressed my ear, but it had little effect. Perhaps I need a larger needle?

I'm fighting the tide so that I can do the work that I need to do for the clients that I care about. The ones that actually need me. My clients who don't want to go back to the Middle East to be sold into prostitution or sold into a marriage they don't want, my Tibetan mother of 3 who hasn't seen or heard from her husband and children since she fled Tibet 3 years ago, and my client who is trying to get a divorce from a horrible man who beat her throughout the 8 years that she lived with him. Yes, law firm, by your standards I am doing too much pro bono work. I admit it. You found me out. But it's not too much for me. It's the one thing at this firm that consistently brings me a feeling of joy and fulfillment.

My partner told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to cut back on my pro bono work. I can tell you all that that is the last thing that is going to happen. If I have to take on a new case, fine. The next few months will suck, but I will do what is necessary to keep doing the work that I want to do. And then I will leave, triumphantly.

That will be glorious.

Wild Ginger Is Lucky I Didn't Find A Finger

Last night I ordered Thai food from a Pan-Asian restaurant in midtown called Wild Ginger. It had high reviews on the NYC Menu Pages so I decided to forego my tried and true Lemongrass Grill (which is fantastic), and try out Wild Ginger. Ordering from Wild Ginger was a HUGE mistake.

I ordered tofu pad thai, steamed vegetable dumplings, and a california roll. By the time I arrived home with the food, Raj had set the coffee table with place mats and chopsticks. I was just in time for us to lay out the food, pour some glasses of water, and start watching Lost. Lost was awesome last night, and as soon as it started I was in my Lost zone so I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to the food that I was eating. I did notice that the food wasn't all that tasty.

The vegetable dumplings from Wild Ginger were bland, and the soy sauce that they gave us was thick and oily and tasted, not quite rancid, but like it had been kept in an overheated cupboard for far too long. The pad thai, for some inexplicable reason, had piles of soggy mushrooms in it. I wouldn't have minded this that much because I like mushrooms, but I'm not a fan of soggy anything, and Raj loathes mushrooms. The california roll, based on my first piece, seemed the best of the bunch. It tasted decent and appeared fresh.

However, as I was chewing on my second piece of california roll, something unfortunate happened. I bit into something hard, and immediately stopped chewing. I thought maybe it was a piece of fish scale or something organic that had slipped in by mistake. I reached into my mouth and pulled out the hard object.

It was a staple! My california roll had a staple in it, and I had bitten into it!

Looking at the staple between my fingers, I froze in the act of chewing, my cheeks filled with rice and who knows what manner of things, and showed Raj what I had found. I then asked, half leaning over my plate ready to spit out the roll, whether I should keep eating. I have no idea why I asked. I also have no idea why Raj said that he thought it was fine if I kept eating the piece of roll that was inside my mouth.

I feel grossed out admitting this, but I continued to chew the piece of the roll. Gingerly and slowly so as to catch any other foreign objects, but I finished chewing it. Yuck. I feel like retching just thinking about it. It's completely my fault, not Raj's. The two of us were both sort of in shock. It's not every day that you become one of the elite members of our litigious society that has a lawsuit handed to them on a silver platter. We're now right up there in the ranks of all those McDonald's patrons who experienced pain and suffering as a result of the food that they consumed: The woman who spilled boiling hot McDonald's coffee on her lap while pulling away from the drivethrough, the person who found maggots in their McDonald's milkshake, and the person who found either a finger or a mouse in their McDonald's beef ribs sandwich.

Granted, the last two might all be urban myths, but I swear to you my friends, this is not an urban myth. I actually found a STAPLE in my california roll. Doesn't this make you wonder about all those other urban myths you've heard before? Maybe they're all true as well. Maybe the only reason we all think they're urban myths is a result of the advertising capabilities of the mammoth and mighty McDonald's.

Luckily, I don't eat at McDonald's ever (except for occasional McDonald's apple pies, and then only if I'm stuck outside Queens County court and in dire need of sustenance). As an aside, if you haven't already read "Fast Food Nation," I highly recommend it. Good book. Particularly it's discussion about how fast food and soda companies are contributing to the "obesity epidemic" among school age children. From this day on, I also do not eat at Wild Ginger. Yuck!!

A staple!! I can't believe it. If there was a staple in there, can you imagine what else could have found its way into the food? The kitchen staff has got to be incredibly sloppy to allow a staple to get trapped in their california roll. Good lord. Maybe they throw the fish down on dirty counter tops before they slice it? Maybe they don't wash their hands? Maybe I'm infested with germs right now??

I can't think about this anymore. Please, be forewarned: Avoid Wild Ginger, take small bites, and chew carefully. Words to live by.

LOST Redux

Holy Crap!! Don't read any further if you're still waiting to see last night's episode:

The episode started with Anna-Lucia being dumb and leaning close to the imposter Henry Gale. Henry lunged at Anna-Lucia, grabbed her and started choking her. He would have killed her, but Locke saved the day just in time by hitting Henry in the face with one of his crutches. Go Locke! During the incident Henry denied that he and the Others were murderers and told Anna-Lucia that she was a murderer. Which is technically true.

In a flash-back, we learn that Anna-Lucia's mother accused Anna-Lucia of executing the man that had shot her and killed her unborn child. Anna-Lucia denied it, quit the police force, and became an airport security officer. In the airport on break, over a tequila, Anna-Lucia met Jack's father. Jack's father tells Anna-Lucia that his son (he does not name Jack) ratted him out for drinking on the job, and that he's on his way to Australia. He asks her to come with him, and she agrees because she, like him, is trying to run away from her problems.

Later, Locke - acting as dumb as Anna-Lucia had acted - opened the door to Henry's cell and struck up a conversation with him, as he seems drawn to do every episode. Locke appears to be trying to find his higher purpose from Henry, and in so doing, he's giving Henry and the Others all of the power. Henry used this opportunity, as he always does, to not-so-deftly try to drive a wedge between Locke and the rest of the survivors. This time, instead of insinuating that Locke lets himself be bossed around by Jack, Henry tried a different tact. Henry told Locke that if he was returned to the Others his leader was going to have him killed for failing in his mission. And what, pray tell, was Henry's mission? To bring Locke to the Others because Locke is allegedly one of the "good" ones.

Before Locke had a chance to process what Henry had told him, Jack and Kate dragged and unconscious Michael into the hatch. They all have a brief conversation and Locke appears to believe that though Jack never talked to any of the Others to offer them a trade, the Others let Michael go in the hopes that the survivors would release Henry Gale. Apparently, the Others are either mind-readers, or followers of the "honor system" (as Jack pointed out). Kate almost seems to buy this cock-eyed theory as well. Clearly, Henry has wormed himself way too far into Locke's head.

Anna-Lucia leaves the hatch in search of Sawyer. She finds him in the jungle picking mangos. She ask him for a gun, but he, being Sawyer, refuses and walks off. Sawyer continues deeper into the jungle and, upon realizing that he is being followed, orders whoever it is to step out and show themselves. Anna-Lucia steps out and Sawyer gives her his trademark once-over. He may have called her "sugar," or I may just be misremembering that. Anna-Lucia again asks Sawyer to give her the gun that he's holding. Sawyer refuses and Anna-Lucia makes as if to hit him, but completely misses. They tussle a bit and Sawyer ends up on top of her.

Sawyer thinks that he got the better of Anna-Lucia, but I think she threw the whole fight just so that she could end up underneath him. Not because she's been burning with lust for him, but because she's determined to get his gun. So determined that she SLEEPS with Sawyer in order to distract him long enough to take his gun. She leaves him while he's cracking jokes about how he won't get any snuggle time from her, and does not even notice that his gun is missing. Men!

Eventually, Michael wakes up. He looks haggard, his mouth is parched, and he has deep circles under his eyes. He tells Locke, Kate, and Jack that he found the Others. There are approximately 22 Others, and according to Michael they sleep in tents, are all dressed simply with no shoes, and their camp has a hatch that is guarded 24 hours a day by two Others with guns. According to Michael the Others are lightly armed. He tells Locke, Kate, and Jack that he believes that Walt and the other children from Anna-Lucia's camp are kept down in the Other's hatch. Michael tells everyone that they can take them. Locke, Kate, and Jack storm out to get all the guns from Sawyer. There is no explanation given for why Michael looks so haggard. Something's not adding up.

While they are accosting Sawyer on the beach, Anna-Lucia goes back to the hatch to kill Henry Gale with the gun that she stole from Sawyer. The sole basis given for this is that Henry tried to kill Anna-Lucia that morning. This seems a bit far-fetched. We know that Anna-Lucia executed the man that shot her before, but she's a cop. Surely she's had other people try to attack her like Henry did, and I'm sure that she did not go and kill all of them.

Then we are shown another flashback in which we learn that right before Anna-Lucia boarded the doomed flight, she called her mother and confessed to killing the man that shot her and told her mother that she was coming home. This flashback tells us two things: (1) Anna-Lucia confessing her sins does not make her "good" in the eyes of the Others (maybe the Others do not believe in redemption); and (2) Anna-Lucia is not going to kill Henry Gale, because despite what the Others think, Anna-Lucia is actually "good." She did something wrong, but she admitted it, and she turned around to face the consequences. Anna-Lucia opens Henry's cell and tells him that he is going to die. She points the gun at Henry's face, but can not pull the trigger. Completely predictable.

In another side story, in an effort to make the moves on Libby, Hurley arranges a romantic picnic on the beach. Unfortunately, he forget drinks and the blanket, and Libby says that she will go back to the hatch for them.

Anna-Lucia shuts Henry's cell and sits down on a couch in the hatch. At that point Michael comes out of wherever he had been resting and asks Anna-Lucia what she is doing. A tearful Anna-Lucia tells Michael how Henry had tried to kill her, and she was going to kill Henry, but she couldn't kill Henry. Wah, Anna-Lucia. I love Anna-Lucia, but I was starting to get really annoyed at the episode right about then. I even turned to Raj and said, "This is so predictable. I can't believe it."

Michael then tells Anna-Lucia that the Others are animals, and that if she can't kill Henry that he will. Again, no surprises here. Of course he's going to do that because they took his son! Anna-Lucia gives Michael the gun, which though predictable was not consistent with her character. Anna-Lucia is a tough chic. The only reason she didn't kill Henry Gale was because she realized it was wrong of her to do so. Having just realized that, it makes no sense that she would hand over the gun to Michael and let Michael do her dirty work. Lost Producers: that did not make sense. Anna-Lucia then, conveniently, tells Michael the combination to Henry's cell.

Michael stands for a minute looking at the gun in his hands. He looks pensive and you think that because this is Michael there's no way he's going to be able to kill Henry either. Just as I've convinced myself that this episode was one of the only predictable Lost duds, Michael turns to Anna-Lucia, says "I'm sorry," and SHOOTS her. Holy crap! Michael shot Anna-Lucia!! Then Libby walks in to get the blanket for her picnic with Hurley, sees Michael standing over Anna-Lucia's body, and Michael shoots Libby multiple times in the stomach. Holy crap again!!

After shooting both women, Michael calmly opens the door to Henry's cell, looks at Henry, and then, with the gun pointing towards Michael's left arm, he shoots the gun. Henry looks like he recognizes Michael.

OMG!

* * *

In Scenes From it looks like Michael shot himself in the arm and most likely let Henry Gale escape. What is wrong with Michael? At first I thought he might be an Other, but the more I think about it, that seems wrong. If Michael was an Other, how do we reconcile his whole story and his past with Walt? A more likely explanation is that Michael has somehow been brainwashed. That, or the Others forced him to do this in order to save Walt. But why wouldn't Michael have tried to tell Locke or Jack if the latter had been true?

I can't believe Anna-Lucia is dead! I thought Libby was kind of blah, but I was interested to find out a little bit more of her story. I missed the episode with her and Hurley, but I gather they were in a mental hospital together. I was curious as to why she was in there. Now I might never know.

But Anna-Lucia was an instrumental member of the cast. Granted, it probably would never have worked to keep her alive, since she killed Shannon and unforgivably destroyed Sayid's love. Even so, I liked Anna-Lucia. Maybe one of them will live and Jack will nurse them back to health? And how could Anna-Lucia die after boinking Sawyer? So much for the steamy love quadrangle we were promised.

I Am Vindicated

Well, of course you all know I am on my way to being a quitter, but there is something that is very close to my heart pertaining to nicotine: My Senior Project for college. I graduated in 04, and something has been bugging me since then. But today, I removed that chip from my shoulder.

For my senior project I picked a difficult topic which dove into brain chemistry including neurotransmitters, amyloid plaques (key in Alzheimer's), and touched upon genotyping, symptoms, etc. I worked very hard on my project though the teacher believed that it was not long enough and that I didn't get enough information. She also stated that she didn't think that I worked hard on it.

Though it wasn't a 50 pager, it was about 30-35 pages and I went as in depth into my topic as possible. I explored my own thoughts and of course the few research articles that could be utilized. Frankly, I wasn't going to "beef" up the paper with bullshit, I stuck to my ground of making sense and having solid information. For some reason my efforts went unnoticed and the teacher FAILED me one week before graduation.

The other thing that bugged me is that out of the total of 6 (including myself) in this "class," 3 wrote papers regarding "studies on college students and drinking," and then 2 wrote on the school systems and how they deal with autistic children. The other one I don't recall. My idea came straight from my own head. I had never known about studies and as I plotted my idea about nicotine and possible positive effects on degenerative diseases, specifically alzheimer's, I found minimal information and the information I did find was very new.

So I hope I have painted the picture for you, I don't want to bore you with the papers details, but I can guarantee you that I worked hard, it made sense, and it was a fantastic above and beyond idea for a senior project, and I received an F. I ended up paying for this class to take during summer school and another teacher was assigned to me. She made me meet her 4 times and switch around some sentences in my paper and that was that. She gave me an A and I was legally a graduate!

Living in Park City and having Sundance I saw this movie "Thank you For Smoking." I never really thought about what it was about until I saw all the previews and now it is hitting the box offices. Many friends and coworkers have loved the movie and told me about it. Well, if you all haven't seen it, it talks about the possible good effects that smoking (not smoking-but nicotine) can have on degenerative diseases. (Note: this is only one part of the movie). I COULD HAVE GONE TO HOLLYWOOD WITH MY IDEA...MY PROJECT, but I didn't even get a passing grade.

My husband knows that I have been upset about failing and although I moved on from 2 years ago, he said "you need to write that teacher and tell her what a mistake she made. Does she see any other student ideas (college students drinking) coming out in a movie that really can have an effect on future medications and treatments for serious diseases?" Of course I had to say no. So he encouraged me to write her a little note - not mean but to the point. And today I did. I feel now I can definitely say that the chip on my shoulder and anger I have for her is off my shoulders. I do wonder if she noticed that movie in February and ever thought about my idea or felt guilty for grading me harshly on a true research idea. But now I know she can and will think about me, my project, the movie, and the grade she gave me.

My email went like this..." I hope you have seen the movie 'Thank you For Smoking.' It is funny that my senior project and the movie are so similar and yet the movie hit the box offices well. Even though you did not enjoy my paper, I could have done well in Hollywood with my idea. I guess we all make mistakes, but gratefully your mistake did not hold me back, I still graduated and I am doing great!"

I think I handled it nicely and yes perhaps I should have let it go, but I really felt cheated and that F really hurt my GPA alot...right before graduation. Now I can say that I have done everything in my power - with help from the producers of the movie, and the society who is intrigued by such a film - to make sure that she will ever forget me and perhaps she too can accept that she made a mistake. I feel great that that chapter is over I wasn't stupid or incapable, I did my best and I am still doing my best!

(The movie of course is hollywood so it doesn't depict my senior project in full but the idea is there. To quit smoking you can use some NRT's and these NRT's (gum, lozenges, the patch) can have some positive effects on people with degenerative diseases. How awesome would that be if nicotine could take away symptoms of alzheimer's? Already there have been a few studies that have shown that some patients remember more and that some symptoms have gone away.)

The picture depicts new research on a an antibody to help break addiction of nicotine.

Acupuncture: The Needles Don't Hurt!

Yesterday, I went to see an acupuncturist, and it was really, really cool. I have been interested in acupuncture for many years. By "interested" I mean, in this context, that I thought acupuncture was intriguing, and put it in my aspirational box of fascinating things to explore next to chakras, feng shui, auras, yoga, eastern religions, astrology, numerology, belly dancing, goddesses, and meditation. Some of those I have taken out of the box over the years and incorporated into my life, such as yoga. Others, I dabble in now and then, and still others, such as belly dancing, I have yet to try even once. (But it's high on my list).

I find that whenever I get back on the path towards holistic health and well-being, I am drawn to that box and it leads me further on in my journey. Such was the case in this instance as well. In December, I went for a physical (for the first time in many years) to Dr. C, a doctor that a friend from work had recommended to me. My friend told me that Dr. C worked in a "kind of new-agey place" but that she was really good, specialized in women's health, and had a practical, holistic approach to medicine. As part of my physical, along with all the routine tests and bloodwork, Dr. C took a complete physical and mental health history and did a full allergy panel. I discovered that I was allergic to dust mites, but that I had no food allergies.

This was a bit of a surprise to me, because for the past two and half years I have struggled with my stomach being, how shall I say?, frequently out of sorts. During the day, either around late morning or early mid afternoon, my stomach often starts hurting. Sometimes it gets filled with gas that absolutely refuses to come out. It just sits there and slowly expands, causing me discomfort and hurt. Sometimes I have to lie on my stomach to make it leave my body. That's a bit embarrassing. Usually those episodes end in a fit of giggles. Other times, I'll leave work, do something fun or relaxing, and all of the pressure and pain in my stomach will just fade away as if it had never been there.

I thought for the longest time that I must be causing my stomach to get upset with the foods that I was eating, and went through elaborate food elimination tests to try to isolate the devious culprit. For example, I realized that I ate soy milk only during the week, because before work I generally have a bowl of Go Lean Kashi Crunch cereal and Silk chocolate soy milk, and on the weekends, with late brunches, I tend to eat omelets. Because of this pattern, I came to think for a time that I must be allergic to soy milk. This was a depressing thought because, as a non-milk-drinking vegetarian, chocolate soy milk not only provides me necessary calcium, it's also an essential ingredient in some of my favorite things like coffee and chocolate-banana smoothies. However, because my stomach was feeling sick all the time (during the week), I stopped drinking soy milk to see if that would help. Of course it didn't.

By the time I met with Dr. C, I was still thinking that I might be allergic to something, but had started thinking that perhaps it was the stress of work, instead of my morning breakfast or the food in the cafeteria (which is disgusting), that was causing my stomach to freak out so often. I had realized that the common denominator with my stomach issues was not food, but work. My stomach is never sick on the weekends.

Dr. C's allergy tests proved that I have no food allergies. Not one! Not to milk, wheat germ, cheese, chocolate, nothing. Her tests also showed that as far as my physical health is concerned, I'm as a sturdy as a horse. In talking with Dr. C about the food allergy results and my stomach issues, she indicated that she thought it sounded like stress, and not food was the culprit. It turns out that my stomach, instead of being temperamental, is just really smart. It knows what it likes, and what it doesn't like. One thing it apparently does not like at all is my current job. Her and me both.

Short of quitting my job, Dr. C suggested incorporating yoga and meditation to help with stress management and the creation of an over-all sense of well-being. In addition, she suggested acupuncture. As I told you about before, Dr. C was playing the role of a messenger, bringing me messages that I had heard before, but needed to hear again so that I could really listen this time and actually take some action on at least some of them.

It took me almost four months to follow-up on the acupuncture idea, and now that I went I'm really excited about it. A big part of my excitement is pride. I'm proud that I took positive action to take care of myself. I'm also excited because acupuncture is a whole new subject for me, about which I know almost nothing. In starting to learn about it, I recently discovered that acupuncture is a form of ancient Chinese medicine that has been used for almost 5,000 years to promote health, balance and vitality. Did you know that?

It was also fun to meet my acupuncturist. She's awesome, as one would expect from someone practicing holistic medicine. She, like Dr. C, took a full history of my symptoms. She asked about what was troubling me, what medications I was taking, what I ate for breakfast (she gave me the thumbs up on the Kashi Crunch and soy milk), etc. Then she had me lie down, put a satin herbal eye pillow over my eyes that smelled of lavender, told me to relax, and inserted approximately 8 needles into various parts of my body. She put two on my feet, one on each of my shins, one on each of my wrists, and at least one on my chest. All of the points into which she inserted the needles have some significance, related to my energy flows, but that's all I know at this point. She said that I had an energy blockage around my stomach area. Sounds right to me.

The whole experience was very relaxing, and it made me happy. Before I left she stuck a very small needle attached to a tiny piece of cloth (like a miniature band-aid) into the top inner part of my left ear. Get this, it is supposed to stay stuck to my ear for an entire week. Every time I start feeling stressed out, I am supposed to press the needle into my ear for approximately one minute. It doesn't hurt, it just gives me a sensation that's hard to describe. It's super cool. I'm going back to her next week at 5:30 pm on Tuesday, and will see her thereafter each week until I start "feeling better." She is officially the newest member of my health posse.

If you've been contemplating acupuncture, I highly recommend it. Go for it. If you've done it, tell me about it. I'd be interested to hear about your experiences.

I WILL BE A QUITTER

Though it is not really summer yet...finally, we have had blue skies, sunshine, and just about 70 degrees. So I have started a new journey to be a better person...mentally, physically, and emotionally. I have worked out possibly 3 times throughout the winter. It felt great when I did work out those 3 times but it REALLY kicked my ass. I have been changing my routine with these beautiful days. Now I have been bringing Hazard to the park and running with him. Running. My muscles have been longing for a good cardio workout but since they are not as conditioned as they should be it is a bit difficult.

And even though I try to do my best...another bad habit gets in the way. The "Nico-demon" as referred to on commmercials, tells you to "get the nico-demon off your back." I have smoked for 8 years now. So I have probably lost a year or 2 statistically. Each year I have tried and tried to quit but it is very hard between withdrawals, stress, and just plain habit. BUT, I am embarking on a new journey which means kick the old and bring in the new better, healthy habits. I AM DETERMINED. Each year when I have tried to quit, I say "Well, this is it, I am not going to be a smoker for 4 years...5 years," etc. But this time is different because I AM going to QUIT. Instead of trying to quit cold turkey, with lozenges, patches, or by myself with no real plan but to quit and stop, I called the 888-567-TRUTH. I was very hesistant to call hence I hadn't called the past years, but I have had enough.

The Call: At first I was quiet, expecting to hear them tell me all the bad things that smoking does and lecture me about what it is doing to my body and health, but it was very different and I am glad. The 2 people I spoke with are successful quitters. They talked to me about reasons why I smoke and why I want to quit. They fit me into a plan that will send me 8 weeks worth of gum or patches for free, they are sending me a packet to read, and they went over other ways to deal with stress, cravings, etc. I figured out more coping mechanisms that can be useful that I otherwise just wouldn't think of because it is easier to light up than really to try to quit. I have never felt so supported in my life to quit smoking. As well I took the step to sign up on www.quitnet.com which has already proven itself to be helpful. Each day I receive an email that includes a Quit Tip, Medication Tip, successful quitters, and a Q-Comic. Each email helps me stay in my mindset.

Though many of you, including Buttercup, have never smoked or perhaps have tried it but didn't pick up the habit, it is a horrible one to have and it is REAL. My dad and mom would tell me years ago when i was smoking for only 3yrs-6yrs. "you aren't addicted to nicotine, just stop..." Yes I understand that they wanted me to stop but HELLO people that is the stupidest thing to say to someone who really wants to quit and frankly it is just wrong because nicotine enters the brain immediately and it has it's own receptors in the brain. If you put nicotine in them, of course the receptors are going to want more. (I just wish I had known how the drug worked prior to beginning the addiction). But oh well, goodbye with the past and Hello new!

To wrap things up, if you smoke, try to quit. If you have never smoked, don't try it, it's a waste of $, and a pain to be "not in control" of what you want in a day. I have set my date tentatively within the next 2 weeks, so I can receive my packet and gum via mail, get ready by cleaning all laundry, scrub smoke smell from car, throw out all lighters, matches, smoking material, and get into a habit of running outside with Hazard. This way if I want a smoke I can run with him to fight the craving while chewing on some gum to take the edge off. I could probably write a thesis on my new journey to quit smoking. But for you readers who are interested (you have read this far) as well with my new journey to be a QUITTER, a new diet, workout routine, and a new me is in store. I am very excited to have a chance to live my life without cigarettes. My clothes won't smell, my asthma will be alot more managable, I will have more $ and energy to do things I want to, and I will be a better me. Quitting means more than you know to me. My brother was there when I had my first drag and he has struggled to get off of smokes and Chew. I have watched my Dad struggle with smokes throughout his life, my grandma passed away from emphysema, my uncle died from cancer (smoking didn't help him), and my grandpa died a smoker as well. It is in the family but I am determined to do it for my health; my life, my Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle (May they rest in peace) and my present and Future family who cares and will care about me.

To Blog Readers: Thank you for reading about my "new journey." I didn't want to write about this because it shouldn't even be an issue, but I feel great now that I did and even better it's in my mind set to quit.

Catching My Breath In Connecticut

As several of you know, last Friday was not one of my finest moments. Thank you to Prue, Tracy, and Gypsy for your sensitive words of wisdom. Though I deleted the post, I saved the comments, and I'm still thinking about them. Like Gypsy, I think I have been niche-less for the last few years, and it's a precarious position to be in. Sometimes, I handle it with grace. Sometimes, not so much.

On Saturday, I took a deep breath, pulled myself together, and left the city to spend the weekend with Simone and her family. Even before leaving the city, I did something I'm still proud of: I went to the 9:30 am pilates class in the gym near my place. My body is still sore from the class, so you know it was a good one. I liked the teacher, and I think I might try to attend the class regularly. We shall see.

Connecticut was wonderful for many reasons. It was wonderful to see people that I hadn't seen for many years, to remember pieces of myself that I hadn't thought about for a while, and to share the experience with Simone. It was also wonderful to be out in the sunshine and surrounded by blue sky and trees. It was a beautiful weekend. Clearly, I don't get out to Central Park enough because throughout the weekend I kept feeling like I had just escaped from a tense concrete wasteland. Which - despite my love of New York - is basically true.

On Sunday afternoon, I got a ride back with the neighbor of my friend Simone. She was a pleasant woman, very hospitable, and very kind to drive me back to the city and spare me from taking the bus. During our drive into the city, the conversation turned to asylum and immigrants' rights after I had told her that I do a lot of pro bono asylum work at my firm and that I'm interested in that area of the law. Do you know what this seemingly sweet, seemingly liberal lady then said to me?

She asked whether my asylum clients generally just want to come to the United States because of all the opportunities there, or whether they have actually suffered any persecution. I responded - exceedingly calmly - by sharing with her stories of Tibetans imprisoned, beaten, and tortured, Ivorian women raped by Ivorian soldiers, and Pakistani girls fearing being sold into prostitution. She seemed to agree that those were situations of "actual" persecution, but seemed convinced that there was a large problem with immigrants crying "asylum" when really they just wanted "a better life." (The nerve of them).

On immigrants' rights she said, "Well, of course it's important that we let only the right immigrants into our country." She said "we" and "our" like she thought I was in on it with her, and suggested that the U.S. should forbid immigrants from sending money home to their families. Apart from the complete lack of compassion of that policy, and the problems with enforcement, she also seemed oblivious to the Constitutional implications. Other than Fox News, and my conservative law school classmates, it's been a while since I encountered attitudes like that. It was bizarre.

My Dad's an immigrant and a proud one, and technically, I am too. I was born in Sweden to a Swedish dad and an American mom and lived there 'til I was 6 or 7. That's perhaps part of the reason I support rights for immigrants.

A bigger reason is that I believe that everyone deserves a fair chance. You know, the whole actualization of the equal rights concept that this great country of ours was supposedly founded upon (despite what Scalia and Thomas would have you believe).