The Spooky Clock

Our school is haunted.

It all started last year (the first year we were in our new building) when a new set of classroom clocks arrived. Professors were finally able to discretely check the time without wasting a moment to glance at their watches and inadvertently give an extra minute to a poor student suffering from the Socratic method of questioning on a case or legal issue.

"What do you think Judge Fluffy meant when he wrote that contractual consideration is not to be conflated with an offer and acceptance?"

"Uh...ummm...gahh"

"WHAT WAS HIS REASONING?" (evil eyebrow arch)

"Ehhh...could I have a moment?"

And so a professor could conveniently measure the silence in the room via the brand new clock hanging on the wall in an area where he wasn't forced him to shift his eyes too much so as to give the sense that he was unguarded. Well at some point, Prof. So and So decided to do a double-take and reconfirm the time on the clock with his watch (thereby prolonging anxiety of the student-victim, still subject to interrogation) and realized the clock was five minutes fast. So he walked over, pulled the clock off the wall and turned back the five minutes.

Each day passed, and each day we witnessed our professor going through the same routine. The stupid time-suck was always five minutes fast! The absurdity of the situation was equally due to the disturbing object and the professor wasting an additional five minutes to turn it back. It reached a boiling point when one day he stormed up to the clock, yanked it off the wall and tossed it to the front of the room. No joke.

Today in my Trusts&Estates class, which is in a different room of the building, Prof. Diab began making the same observations of the clock in that room. In this case, it is seven minutes fast. I could see in the tone and manner of his voice that he too would soon obsess over the time discrepancy...

I don't know what our school means by purchasing deficient classroom merchandise. If they wanted to drive our faculty to maniacal heights, I think they've succeeded.

Google yourself...

And you may be surprised at what you find.

I have this habit of googling my name every so often (just to make sure I'm not on a hit list or something, or because I'm BORED) and after screening the usual sites that pop up, I go about doing whatever un-extraordinary thing occupied my time before the urge to search arose.

This morning my will to study was overborne. Once again, I plugged my name into the little widget on the top of my browser, scanned where my name popped up and to my surprise, I noticed a site that I had not seen my name associated with before.

Apparently I have an unclaimed fund with the NY state comptroller! I clicked on the link and a list of people with my last name appeared. I saw my name and my old address next to it and clicked on my "account number" which led me to an "Unclaimed Funds Form". The company who reported this unclaimed fund was Ann Taylor, Inc.

Now the only considerable time I've spent shopping at Ann Taylor was five years ago, after receiving an expensive gift from the councilwoman I worked for. I returned the items she bought me and exchanged it for store credit. I thought I had used it up when I bought gifts for my mom and sisters but perhaps there is some value left that has yet to be claimed?

Thank goodness I'M not the one indebted. Ah the discoveries one makes on a Friday morning!

Crepe Suzette!

This afternoon I had the pleasure of enjoying a delicious chicken and veggie crepe, purchased from a brand new [hygienic] vendor who specifically sells crepes. All varieties, all the time.

I love hearing the stories behind the people who start up these mini ventures, so it didn't come as a surprise that this particular seller had a fascinating history before he came to be a street vendor literally a week ago. At 62, he decided to forego his pursuit of working in the fine arts (sculpting, of which he has his masters) and embark on fulfilling another artistic passion...cuisine! Suspecting he was Eastern European because of a thick accent, I nevertheless asked him if he was French (stupid I know...but CREPES, people!) and he answered that he was Polish. I watched him masterfully create this $5 meal for me and wondered what life was like for him. He seemed happy that he was able to do this, but at the same time, it was clear from our conversation that he abandoned his search for employment as a sculptor because of the little pay and virtually invisible market for people with his skill-set.

I wish I caught his name.

Watching Mr. CrepePolish guy got me thinking of how I want to one day start a South-Indian restaurant. My imagination takes me to a point in time where I'll be a wealthy philanthropist, eager to pluck a poor, humble cook from the backwaters of Kerala, take her/him back to America and create a five star dining experience rooted in the home-cooked meals of our mothers and fathers, for patrons from all walks of life. God's Own Country...

Definitely, maybe.

Feeling Useful: A Rambling.

Being able to help someone achieve a certain goal is one of the most amazing feelings in the world. I've been tutoring my roommate in English and seeing her improve today made me so proud. Her appreciation for the mere one hour I spent with her was even more awesome. I wish I could dwell forever in moments and situations where I can feel valued and needed.

After our session today I got to thinking about that omnipresent question: what is my purpose on earth? What am I supposed to do with this degree I'm working for? Why do I feel like I'm not doing the right thing? What if my instincts aren't really my instincts, but cold feet? Why do I overcomplicate things, or perhaps worse, oversimplify them? Why is everything I want so expensive? If at this very instance, life were a blank slate, would I do things any differently, knowing how I had done them before?

This frustration with myself is beginning to reach a tipping point. I don't understand the simultaneous apathy and anger that I'm harboring but I know that I need to shake things up before I feel worse.

Floating on Air

Steve Jobs has done it again.

The newest in the Apple notebook series? The "Macbook Air." You may lust after this gadget once you've seen the very simple commercial, so be forewarned.

*drools*

What a Difference a Day Makes

I didn't read for school over break. This week, I paid for such inactivity in an anxious-ridden way.

Right now, I'm about a day behind in Health Law and in Trusts and Estates. Because of that, the days in class were overwhelming. I sat through trusts today not grasping any of the concepts Professor Diab was saying. I came back home to reread the case we went over today and felt a bit better. How off track one becomes when they miss a mere few (or many) pages in her textbook! Its moments like the one I experienced this afternoon that make me grateful to have Fridays off. Catch-up days. Mental health days.

Its amazing how a seemingly simple episode like the one above can cause one's mind to whirl in a gajillion places. Familiar but unwanted places; for example, the places of my mind that worry I won't get a job for the summer (let alone after grad school!), that I will eventually fail a class or drop out (unless they kick me out), that I'll ultimately never feel satisfied with my career. When my mind starts wandering this way, I start comparing myself to other people and where they are in their lives (something I detest...something that our parents I suppose conditioned us to think about) and I end up feeling like I'm wasting time and energy for an empty future.

I hate the bleakness of that picture. But these are inevitable feelings that will always come to surface when I don't stay focused. I need to stop over-thinking and just doing. I worry that "just doing" could also mean becoming robotic, and if there's one thing I don't want to be its a sell-out.

I am so exhausted. I know I'll read this post over again to check for grammatical errors at some point (because I'm anal like that) and I'll find myself searching for coherence. I apologize. Time to start a new day.

The Pregnant Squad

That's a term we use for the group of women in our Church who happen to be pregnant at the same time. They stand together, huddled in a circle, baby bumps bumping each other, ready to forage a meal for two downstairs. As of this moment, one of them has given birth. A 4lb bundle of joy! A tiny turkey!

Today I got to see our new baby nephew, Reuben, or as Matilda and I like to call him, "Baby Benny." He is so adorable! Normally newborns aren't (no offense), but Benny had such a cute little face. Unfortunately he was sleeping most of the time we were there. I think if we set off the loudest foghorn in the world in that room, he still wouldn't flinch.

Babies, marriage, love...blah, this is all that the conversation turns to these days. It happened again on Saturday at a potlock with las amigas. I don't feel old, so why are the times dropping obvious signs that I am?