Wednesday, June 30, 2004

For Lisa

Lisa would have been a year younger than me. I think of all the things I got to do over the past 17 years. All the things she didn't get to do. Play barbies with friends, run around on summer nights, my first kiss with Kevin (who is still one of my best friends), slumber parties, the prom, going to college, falling in love. I think of all of those things and how she was robbed. Viciously, brutally robbed at such a young age.

I remember seeing her on TV even though I was only 7. Remember images of her body covered in bruises of her mother covered in bruises and the man who was to act as her father on the stand. Remember thinking about how they were supposed to protect her and instead he killed her and her mother was too numb to stop it.

And now he is released from prison. They say he still hasn't taken blame for her death. Won't acknowledge that he did it but that after serving 2/3 of his sentence they can't hold him anymore.

He will feel the sun on his face. I don't care what he doesn't get to do since he is on parole. He will feel the sun and the wind, he will know the touch of human flesh and yet he still doesn't know remorse.

This man isn't even worth a curse poem.

But Lisa, Lisa you are my friend. And I will always remember you. I will carry your picture with me my entire life.

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Monday, June 21, 2004

My Inspiron 4150

I have come to the conclusion that the reason Dell has to pride itself on its outstanding customer support is because its hardware SUCKS ASS.

I got my laptop in October of 2002. It has crashed twice. The first time was from a blaster virus the second time was this past January and it crashed cause DELL SUX.

Do you know how I know it wasn't just my laptop? Three other friends who purchased the same model at the same time and were using their laptops the same way had their laptops crash as well. One of those three had to have his hardrive completely replased and lost everything. I did what the dell guy told me combined it with what my friend Sindy told me (Sindy is a Standford CS grad who now works there) and saved my data but still lost all my programs.

Last fall my battery cord frayed and exploded in my hand burning me slightly. Dell replaced the cord immediately. If I had known that my computer would be having more problems I would have sued for the personal injury and represented myself pro se. Just to have the money to buy a non dell.

NOW my computer is just being ridiculously slow, though 40% of the harddrive is empty. Notepad took it upon itself to dissappear (bitch jumped ship and i have no clue how the program injured itself to the point of not working) AND My computer has decided it no longer wants Verizon as its ISP and even though I get a a signal from Verizon the computer won't go online.

I may throw her ass out the window. Tomorrow she comes to school and home with me to Middletown and hopefully someone can intervene between us.

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Glad to be home. Once I digest everything I'll write about it.

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Thursday, June 17, 2004

My white southern judge made a comment to me
about Mexicans surrendering at the Alamo
but he is not biased
no not at all.

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Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Today the woman in the dining hall told me, "you know they say if i can remember your omelette you have been here too long." Ain't that the truth!

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Monday, June 14, 2004

Hell thy name is National Conference Center

Okay, as if it wasn't bad enough. I basically have to be asexual here. I have been blantantly told that if they think a male and female are involved the girl does not get an offer. So, I can't flirt with my co-workers. Least they think something is more than it is. And you guys know me I am a flirt. I think it is fun. We are all freaking flirts.

And I am being taunted.

This past weekend was a Virginia Men's Conference. Which was really a Virginia Men of Color confernce. And What Colors! If I hadn't gone to DC for the day Saturday by Sunday night trouble would have been had. Serious trouble.

Then today I got downstairs. Looking like hell cause it is trial week. And what do I see. Dozens of Air Force men in uniform. I love how their asses look in those uniforms. This is fucking torture. I had just pulled my ass out of my room. I am in a huge orange sweater (stolen from a guy friend who wears and extra large, by choice) and gray pajama pants with my glasses on. I didn't get a single look. Vixen must keep her reigns in for six more days. But damn thems are gonna be loooooong ass days.

Seriously New York. Be careful when I get back. ;-)

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Sunday, June 13, 2004

On Winning

I am competitive. I think the most frustrating thing about the exercise I am participating in right now is that we have to argue motions so they can see how well we can argue. They have already decided what teams win what motions in order to get to the next step of the exercise. Each section has four portions of the exercise (1 per teammate).

I can't win the motion I have to argue. It is impossible. They give us the cases so this is not based on my argueing ability. If I was going to go into "battle" (which is what litigation is), I would arm myself to win or I would settle the case out of court.

Now in life. I am not a sore winner. I don't rub it in people's faces, jump up and down or any of that bullshit. It is enough for me to sit on it, eat it up and enjoy it inside. I will also play games that I repeatidly lose. If anything it gives me strategy for when I am going to play those games against others. BUT BUT

Here is the real reason why I don't slam . I would compromise my poetry to win. I know it. I know I can get my acting ability to the point where I could slam the poem I wasn't feeling cause I know it is what the judges would like. I would edit, re-edit, put in body language...do all the shit I hate slam for, cause it wouldn't be about the art. It would be about winning.

So, to keep it about the art. I have to stick to the open mic. And that is that, now you know.

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Where Am I?

This place is so weird. I am at the National Conference Center in Lansdowne Virginia. Picture a conference center run by the Davidians, you know...the cult in Waco Texas. This place is set apart all by itself about an hour to DC and there is NOTHING to do.

It is three of the most confusing buildings ever made. There are color zones and number zones and mulitple floors. You could film a horror movie here. There are corridors that you could run down FOREVER. And, everytime you think you are about to exit to a place you know. The exit dissapears. And if you find an exit, it doesn't put you out toward where you need to be put out. You end up in some random ass section of the conference compound wishing you could find the West building which is the only building that attaches to the road that leads out of this intellectual prison.

The airport shuttle doesn't come everyday. There are outlet malls here and you all know how much I LOVE shopping. THAT is sarcasm. I hate shopping. The last time I went to an outlet I bought three books and that is it.

There is a gym and a pool but those have limited hours (and the men in this area stare but that is an entirely diffent post). There is also a bar. And the firm has given us an open tab. But I can't really cut loose with these people so there is only so much alcohol I can have. Can't hook up with anyone cause the majority are co-workers and co-workers would know if I hooked up with anyone else and I am just not that type of girl. Not the type that hooks up with strangers.

I would say I am in prison, but I know I am not. I have placed myself here. In this compound and I get to leave in six days. Count down with me.

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Thursday, June 10, 2004

I just told a story about Tito Puente
and I was asked by several people who he was

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Thursday, June 03, 2004

No esta llena in DC

I feel mute.
If you know me, you know I don't speak spanish often. It is not that english is my preferred language, it is that english is my faster language. There are times when I will only speak in spanish though (ex. to the Donas, even though they all speak english i prefer spanish).

Being here I have heard barely any words in spanish and when I do they are from the cleaning staff. The Latinos here are so timid, almost fearful. In New York I would at least strike up conversations. They would talk to me about my family. So, the only times I have gotten to speak spanish here are with the cleaning staff and it is only a few words. The peek into my office, ask me a question and then flee.

No esta llena, those were my only words spoken in spanish today.

No esta llena, como yo, la mujer muda.

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Wednesday, June 02, 2004


If one of the walls of my office wasn't glass I would be spinning around and around in my chair right now opening up my arms to slow down and pulling them in to speed up. Alas, that behavior is unacceptable for a young associate and I will proceed to read cases. :-(

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Tuesday, June 01, 2004

Is it a sign when you break a stress ball five minutes after being given it and I am not even stressed? Bird seeds all over my desk.

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"La vida te da sorpresas"

....it does, it surely does

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