The People You Went to High School With

The following is a short list of how you knew them in high school and where they are now:

The girl that was always going to the tanning bed and now looks 10 years older than she really is

You knew her as the bronzed babe who always had that beach glow; even in December. Her friends always complemented her tan complexion, and “being tan” became a part of her identity. After years of paying those monthly fees at the local fake ‘n’ bake, this aging Aphrodite, who’s really 26, looks 36.

The fat guy that got skinny

You knew him as the unathletic but massive man-child who started on the offensive line for your high school football team. He had an ironic name like Midget or Tiny. After high school, he faded into obscurity. He resurfaced in 2008 at an ugly sweater Christmas party thrown by a mutual friend. Only now, Tiny is donning a new, much slimmer body and a semi-attractive girlfriend. He’s also kind of a douche about the fact that he’s trim and healthy now, and he makes snide comments about that Christmas beef log you’re eating.

The guy that’s still in college and works part-time at Best Buy

It’s been eight years since he received his high school diploma, but this guy can’t settle on a life path. He says he wants to be rich one day, but he can’t seem to take more than 3 credits per semester at his local community college. In reality, life at home with mom is just too good. The free meals and free lodging have turned him into the real-life Matthew McConaughey from “Failure to Launch” (albeit less successful – McConaughey had a Porsche and a sweet job selling sailboats).

The girl that got straight A’s, went to an Ivy League, and now makes more money in a month than you do in a year

When she gave her valedictorian speech, nobody in your class had ever seen her before. Six years after graduation, you received a Facebook friend invitation from her and realized that you are comparatively a loser. However, in an effort to feel better about yourself, you point out that she only has 150 Facebook friends, and you have 700. You lie to yourself and think, “Sure, she makes a lot of money doing a job that I just had to Wikipedia to understand, but I have fun! There’s no way she has fun.”

St. Louis Musings

I am living in St. Louis, Missouri this summer and interning at Scott Air Force Base for the Army JAG Corps. The job is good; I really like it. I mean, it’s challenging and rewarding and all of that stuff. I have been doing a ton of legal research and writing which requires the use of words like “therefore” and “thus” and “furthermore.” Those words are fun to use. I especially like using the phrase “[i]n conclusion” because it means that I’m almost done with my analysis.

The whole “living in St. Louis for the summer” thing has made me aware that wherever you go, there will be strange people capable of very strange things. There are also boring people; very boring people. It kind of makes me depressed knowing that people are just people no matter where you go. Maybe I’m wrong though, and maybe in some part of the world there is a culture full of totally manic people. Maybe they get excited all of the time for no particular reason other than that they are alive; and they laugh and then they cry because they have so much joy. I doubt these people really exist though. Only in books and movies can people really be manic for an extended period of time.

The area I am living in this summer is called Tower Grove. It’s a section of St. Louis that has gone through an urban renewal process over the past decade to become what it is today. It’s relatively cheap to live, very ethnically diverse, and most of the restaurants are Eastern influenced. I went to a coffee shop a couple of weeks ago to read a book, but soon had to leave because a man kept hitting on me. I mean, it wasn’t even subtle, it was ridiculous. It was the first time in my life that I understood why certain women don’t like to be hit on. Solidarity, ladies.

I’ve been going to a pretty cool church called The Journey. I can’t quite figure the church out, which may be the reason that I keep going back. Like, in the bulletin today, there was a Johnny Cash quote. And at first, I was like, what the eff man, you can’t quote Johnny Cash in a church bulletin! But after I thought about it for a while, I couldn’t really think of a reason why Johnny Cash shouldn’t be quoted. I mean, what if the quote spoke Truth (the capital T kind)? And how is what Johnny Cash had to say about God any different than what Joe Shmoe Preacher has to say about God? Whether it’s Johnny Cash or Joe Shmoe, they are both conveying the little bit that they know about God. (Cue the story of the blind men and the elephant.) So, I decided that I’m cool with the Johnny Cash quote. The message today at church was on the apocalypse and all of that crap. The conclusion to the sermon was basically, “Yeah, we don’t really have any idea about how this apocalypse thing is going to happen, but we just know that it will at some point.” Alright, thanks for the insight. I should probably care more about that sort of thing, but I don’t. But anyway, don’t let today’s sermon or the Johnny Cash quote put you off about The Journey because you would probably like it if you went. It really is a pretty cool church.

I’ve got four more weeks in St. Louis. I’m really looking forward to them.

1[hel]L (of a) Year

I’ve fielded a lot of questions from friends since returning home from my first year of law school. Some of the questions seem to hedge around the idea that I’ve been enrolled at Hogwarts, and that I’ve gained some sort of magical law powers. I can assure you that this is not the case.

I think many first year law students would agree that the first year of law school is grueling. In fact, there are probably some similarities between 1L year and fighting a war. Every day is spent dodging bullets, anticipating the enemy’s moves, honing your skills, and preparing for the next day’s offensive strike. It’s mentally challenging, like a game of chess that lasts for 8 months. My class had 5-6 casualties in the first year (that’s about a 3% fatality rate, in case you were wondering). But, enough with the analogies, the bottom line is that although it can be tough, I love learning the law, and could not be happier to be in law school. As my friend Jake once said, “The Law is brilliant, man.” I concur, Jake.

This summer is shaping up to be a lot of fun. I am working for the U.S. Army JAG Corps as a summer legal intern at Scott Air Force Base and living in St. Louis, MO. My St. Louis summer bucket list includes hanging-out with Nelly and hitting some BP with Albert (“stinky”) Pujols. I will be sure to snap some pics if either of these happen.


AM

It's about time Ms. Heap...

Alright, so if you haven't heard it yet, here is Imogen Heap's new album in all of it's stream-able glory. Enjoy it!

Personality Profile

I took a personality profile test a few months ago and found out that I am an ENTJ. If you have no idea what I'm talking about then go here: http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp to take the Jung Typology Test.


Here are some words that describe my personality type:

decisive, fearless, planner, thrill seeker, engaged, social, self centered, comfortable around others, image conscious, likes to be center of attention, adventurous, outgoing, manipulative, emotionally stable, leader, ambitious, hard working, dominant, prepared, hates to be bored, confident, opinionated, analytical, prepares for worst case scenarios, organized, orderly, clean, driven, resourceful, finishes most things they start, achieving, risk taker, desires fame/acclaim, image focused, narcissistic, arrogant, perfectionist, driven, academic, scientific, critical, avoids giving in to others, does not like to compromise, skeptical

The List

If you have ever stepped foot into a church you may have noticed one of us. We serve you the sacraments, pass you the offering basket, and escort your feeble grandparents. We know where all of the bathrooms are, and we have counted you every time you've sat in one of our lavishly padded seats. We are the smiling faces that help your family of six find seats when you show up to service thirty minutes late. We are, as our lapels say, USHER.

Historically, I'm not much of the volunteer type. I like the satisfaction of helping people, but 'volunteering' has always sounded like something grandmas did to get out of the house when grandpa started getting on their nerves. It has always been scary to me too; kind of like a slow death. I knew this guy named John that started volunteering when we were in high school. He got so into it that he never came back. He's living in a third world country now. I get the shivers every time I think about it.

I think I figured the whole volunteering system out. There is a master list of names and phone numbers that all of the heads of volunteer organizations use. It's called The List. If you have ever volunteered for anything, you are probably on The List. The only way to stay off this list is to never volunteer for anything, ever. Once you are on The List you will be called upon to volunteer for things you didn't even know existed. No task is too gross, intensely boring, or labor intensive to ask a volunteer on The List to perform. Anything goes. Becoming a name on The List has been a huge reason that I have always refrained from volunteer work.

Even though I figured out The List and and had a deeply rooted apprehension for volunteering, I recently felt the need to make an effort. I mean, my volunteer resume is abysmal. It consists of bagging groceries at a food bank twice when I was 13, and even that was for extra credit. Pretty bad. I kept thinking that if Mother Teresa was still alive, and I met her, she would probably call me out. The thought of getting scolded by Mother Teresa is probably the worst thing that could happen to a person, and it gave me the final push to get out of my comfort zone and consider volunteering.

About 7 months ago I did what was once unthinkable. I volunteered at my church and willingly became a part of the system that I feared for so long. Astoundingly, I have not died, been asked to clean up feces, or been shipped off to a third world country; at least not yet. The experience has actually been pretty liberating and I've met some interesting people during my stint as an usher. It may even be the first baby step toward more volunteer work in the future. Time will tell, but for now I am happy to report that I have conquered my fear. Mother Teresa would be proud.

Gym Culture

There isn't much in the world that makes me happier than seeing a fat guy on a treadmill. Senior citizens wearing headbands and wristbands comes in a close second for me, but I am really partial to seeing the fat guy sweating off the pounds. I workout at the YMCA, and during my workout today I was thinking about "universal gym culture" if there is such a thing. You know, the kind of stuff you'd see at just about any gym. So here are a few that I came up with:

1. The person that fills up their whole water bottle at the water-fountain. This person doesn't care about the massive line of dehydrated people that has formed behind them because they are on a mission to fill up their 60oz Nalgene.

2. The lady with the eating disorder. I have seen this girl at every gym I have ever been to. She looks like a skeleton and smells like cigarette smoke, but she somehow musters the energy for a two-hour Precor session.

3. The military guy. His shorts are always too short and he usually has the arm-band iPod holder. This guy keeps to himself and can always be seen doing pull-ups and squats.

4. The fat lady that just walks around the gym. This person thinks that just by being at the gym or standing next to a treadmill she will be redeemed for the Ho-Ho's she ate on the drive over.

5. The personal trainer. This guy is usually about 30 years-old with massive muscles. After this guy graduates from college with a degree in Physical Fitness he realizes that he has no viable career prospects and no control over his life. In a state of depression he decides that he will make an hourly wage by bringing pain and misery to anyone misfortunate enough to hire his services.