You try

" If you could send me your resume and a few lines describing your background and interests (two-three sentences is good :) ) that would be helpful!"

Hm. My whole life and future in 2-3 sentences? Tough assignment. My answer:

I am interested in the intersection of development and ethics (How can we ensure international development is done ethically? How can we help develop ethical people?). My interest has led me to work in different substantive fields, of which I am drawn most toward public health, economic, and political development.

You try. It's hard!

Why the heck not?

I'm working on a research project on bilateral trade agreements. I've been trying to figure out this one genre of provisions and can't find much information. I did find one report that was spot-on. The authors' contact information was listed in the article ... so, I figured, Why the heck not?, and took it upon myself to e-mail the authors for more information and advice. What's the worst that could have happened, that they never write me back?

Ha! Within less than a day Mr. Senior Associate from the World Bank, in Zambia, and I are having a back-and-forth e-mail trade (no pun intended)! Does he know it's just young, inexperienced, little ol' moi at the other side of these e-mails? I haven't lost his attention yet, so I'll take that as a high compliment.

Put yourself out there, people. It's kind of fun.

Philly

Back in Philly. It really feels like I just posted that I was in town for my friend's wedding, but that was way back in May! I've had a summer and a fall since then. I just love this city. It has charm, grit, a feeling of excitement, motion, and adventure. Sadly, I noticed the light balls in Rittenhouse Sq. are not up! I'll have to investigate.

When I got off the bus, I knew right where I was and just started walking through the city West to get to campus. Despite the 23 degree weather and carrying my bag, I wanted to walk. I wanted to save money, but mainly I wanted to walk because I would be passing through the city. It feels great to land in almost any city along the east coast and know my way around. Something about the independence of travel, just me and my small bag (I'm notorious for packing light) - it enlivens me. I feel empowered and connected to the world - connecting both to places and to people.

Off to the more adventures in this next stop I'm making on the long way home...

(air)Port Post

7:58 p.m
Logan Airport
Gate C36

I ended my internship in D.C. I may or may not have cried while walking to work on my last day. I loved my D.C. summer life, my coworkers, my daily routine, the big black woman, Monty, who worked at my gym (the JCC). I loved stopping off at the farmers market on my way home to pick up veggies. I loved going for walks. I loved visiting my grandmother on weekends. I loved hopping on the MARC Penn Line to visit my friend in Baltimore. I loved Baltimore. For once, I had an internship where I got to do the job I would have if I worked there. And, for once, I loved the job I got to do. But, my time came to an end. I scrubbed my apartment, left some wine and a gift card for SweetGreen, packed my bags and headed North.

I saw my eye doctor in Boston before jumping on a bus down to the Cape. Carrying all my stuff from the last 3 month, eyes dilated with the 4:30 p.m. sun setting in my eyes, I staggered grouchy, groggy and blind around the J-Way streets trying to find my way back to South Station. I was a sorry sight, for sure. I made it home -- real home -- and powered off my cell phone, tucked away my computer and swore off communicating with the outside world (not so hard, as Verizon is spotchy at my parents' house). I had a lovely, hectic few days with my family. I read two books. I slept with no alarm. I got new contact lenses and had my teeth cleaned. We got sand in our shoes and ate homemade ice cream. We went sailing. We had fresh fish, smooth as butter, and baked blueberry crisp. We visited my aunt and walked her dog. We had dinner with my 90 year-old grandmother who still swims laps in the ocean. We saw my grandfather's closet, still part full a mere five months after he passed. We went for runs and walks. We saw shooting stars at the bridge down the street.

We got and gave hugs. We laughed. We cried. We changed our life plans. We yelled. We made new life plans. We loved each other. We told one another we loved each other.

We said goodbye.

....

En route back to Denver. I feel rejuvenated and excited. I found myself again this summer. I was inspired. I have ideas. I have motivation and initiative. The anger abated. The confidence came back. I am myself. I am my self.

This will be my year.

Small World story

So, there I was this morning on my way to my grandmother's for lunch and an afternoon visit. It was actually raining out this morning, a welcome change from the oppressively hot, humid D.C. weather. I made a quick stop off at the Firehook Bakery because I like to bring little cookie and scone treats for Grandma (she needs fattening up!). Of course I was running a little late, as usual, when I ran down the stopped escalator down to red line at Dupont. I get into the train, which is surprisingly packed for a weekend. I figure I'll try to get a seat somewhere in the middle because I'm going all the way to the last stop and won't need to push through to get off mid-way. I excuse myself to get by the crowd. Well! I see one empty seat - lucky me - and beeline toward it. Next to the empty seat is an attractive, my-age-ish guy who is smiling at me and patting the seat. He looks at me and says, "There's a seat for you right here" ... it was my friend, Max! Max is the high school friend of my dearest college friend. They went to high school together in Israel. He was born in Egypt, lived everywhere, does International Development theater work and last was living in Sudan. I last saw him about a month ago at our mutual dear friend's wedding in Philadelphia. Turns out, he was just here in town for the weekend or something and was going to some theater plays his friends were in. How crazy is that! We happened to be in the same city, going in the same direction, on the same train, in the same car at the same time. Small world. He said he lives "nowhere" now, was just working on a farm in PA for awhile and is possibly heading back to Sudan soon.

On one hand, I felt like, See! I have so many friends here in the city that I "run into" people randomly. Of course, it was especially nice to run into Max. I always have a particular soft spot for Max because he is such a good friend of my dear friend. I also partly have a soft spot for Max because he and I seem to have similar careers and lifestyles. But, on the other hand, somehow there was something about running into Max that made me pensive and feel a bit sad. As if, out of the whole city, the only person I know is a chance encounter with a friend of a friend. Both of us just passing each other by. We have just 3 stops together before one of us is off in another direction again. And, neither of us actually has a permanent life here, or really anywhere. It was all so quick. Pretty much like all of the times I've been around Max, there was not (will there ever be?) enough time to get to talk about the real things in life.

Isn't that weird, though? Running into someone I know made me feel independent in a small world, and yet immensely alone in a large world. Who knows, maybe it was just the dreary Saturday morning rain...

Como uno quiere a su bandera...

After the Iranian revolution, roughly 1980, the country put together a new flag to symbolize a new, reunited country. The new Iranian flag was Green, White and Red. Green symbolizes fertility and (ironically?) Islam. White symbolizes purity and peace. Red symbolizes the martyrs' blood. In the center, a red emblem symbolized various parts of Islamic life: Allah, the Book, the Sword, the five principles of Islam, balance, unity, neutrality, and the universal government of the downtrodden. So, we have a flag for 30 years that signifies an Iran moving toward strong democracy, unified social people, and modern integration of religion into civil society.

June 2009: Iran holds elections that are, arguably, a farce. President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad declared himself the winner and Candidate Mirhossein Mousavi appealed the election. The young, educated Iranian community and the international community (not the U.S.) stands behind Mousavi. Demonstrations and rallies emerge around the world. Green - from the stripe of the flag - was the chosen symbol of the opposition to Ahmadinejad. Mousavi drops the charge, accepts Ahmadinejad's reelection. The U.S. is happy that there is a continued pillar of "democracy" in the Middle East. The world moves on.

January 2010: President Ahmadinejad holds a run-of-the-mill official ceremony. The flag behind him is Blue, White and Red. Or, shall we say, Red, White and Blue (oh wait, isn't the U.S. of A. flag Red, White and Blue?).

Does erasing the green mean that Iran erased the opposition, or wants to, anyway? Ironically, didn't the green in the flag also symbolize Islam? Did Iran erase Islam, too? Flags symbolize so much to so many people: love for one's nation, fellow compatriots, and own happiness in life. Can a president just 'decide' to change the nation's flag on his own whim? How old are we anyway? It reminds me of how I used to change my shirt if my sister happened to be wearing a shirt with the same color -- or a color even remotely close on the spectrum -- for school that day.

At the very least, I think it's clear that Iran is less than stable these days. I believe: if we don't get to the root of the problem before moving on to fix it and rebuild on top of it, the problem will surface again. Is it possible that the time it takes The Problem to get to The Surface is about ... 30 years?

Living more consciously

I have been much happier these days. Back a few weeks ago I wrote No soy yo. I am not myself. I was living numbly awhile. I hadn't felt myself in so long, that I wondered if I ever would feel it again. By 'it' I mean that I wanted to engage in the world. I wanted to smile more and make my nerdy, dry puns even when no one understood them and I would just seem like an odd character. I wanted to say Good Morning to people I ran by on the bike path. I wanted to care about how I dressed, not that I have "style" but, shall we say, I have a style. My style. I wanted to talk to random people, ride the bus rather than drive, cook dinner and bring my lunch. All of this, I just didn't feel like I had time to do before. Something changed. Finally! I feel this weight lifted off me. I am myself again! I feel the same sort of confidence that I had when I first moved back to the states from Peru. I got through "tough times." I did the independent thing. I could make things happen and be myself. Be myself. Be my self.

I think part of being me is that I am much more compassionate toward other people. Why? Maybe it's because as I engage with the world around me, I start to care more about the people and environment around me, too. Maybe it's because I feel a broader spectrum of emotions just by living more consciously. The happy is happier; the sad is more sad. I like this way of living. I have always thought this: I would rather feel something than feel nothing. That is, I would rather feel emotions strongly, than not feel anything at all.

As part of this living more consciously and feeling emotions more deeply, I cried twice this week. Both times it happened because I just was hit with a wave of profound emotion. I felt sad for the way things are, at once inexplicable and completely understandable. The first time was when I was cooking dinner and mindlessly listening to the news on the radio. The compassionate voice from the little black hand radio on my table reported that one third of Haiti's entire population died in the earthquake. One third. Thirty-three percent. I can't really fathom the extent of suffering in that country, on that island, right now. The second time I cried was when I was on the bus home from school yesterday. A crew of high school girls behind me were talking about ethnicity. Of course, the way the were chattering was not so sophisticated: energetic, full of "like," and testing their new ideas by saying them aloud to each other. "Wait, what if I married an Asian guy, then my kids would be... 3/4 Asian?" What made me feel a profound wave of emotion, though, was the man sitting in front of me. Obviously frazzled and unkempt, it was clear he was a war veteran. He kept swearing and repeating this one phrase over and over and over. "Shit, man, I killed people over there!" I couldn't help it. Tears came. That did, and does, strike me as a moment I will remember for a long time. I was - and am - sad for this man whose whole experience of life has been shaded with guilt and constant memory of his inhumanity. Sad for the people he killed over there, whoever they are and wherever there is.

Living consciously...

Freaking out

Ah! Finals start tomorrow and then it's a sprint to the finish. The more I study, the worse I feel! I just realize more and more how much I don't know. :/

Not to mention: today was 23 degrees midday, it snow last night. Tonight is a low of 1 degree. Tomorrow is a high of 16, plus snow during the day. I swear, the weather always tries to sabotage my exams. It just adds a layer of stress and wasted time (bus to school because roads too icy/snowy) when I need it least.

I hate the pressure, anxiety, high-stakes, unknown abyss that is law school finals.


Freaking. Out.

Case of the Mondays

It's 14 degrees outside. The roads are a thick sheet of ice. My car won't start. The bus comes twice an hour, and involves a mile+ walk, anyway. Sigh. Welcome to my Monday.

Things got better, and I trust the car will start when it gets warmer out. But, REALLY!? It just makes me look forward to leaving on Friday, a mere 3 days away! And, I get to spend a whole evening with Gracie-poo! She, kindly, is driving me to the airport Friday morning at 5 a.m.-ish. Goodness, when was the last time I was invited to a sleepover?? :)

Lots of work to get done before Friday, though. 1 down, 3 to go.

On another note, I heard this cool story on the radio today about a kid in Malawi who just decided to make a windmill. He read about it in 2 books at the public library, after he couldn't afford to pay the US $80 to go to public school. Except, really, he didn't even read it because it was in English and he didn't know English. So, he learned about how to make a windmill from looking at pictures in 2 books at the public library after dropping out of school. And DID he make a windmill! From gum trees, old bicycle parts and trash around the town, he made a 39 foot windmill that converts wind into energy. It provides electricity for radios, cell phone charges, and 2 light-bulbs. He's since built 2 other windmills that work even when it's not windy. He's now 22 years old. Amazing. This story makes me feel pretty much the same as when I see 14 year old Olympic medalist figure skaters on T.V. -- I'm already too old for genius, raw talent and wonder!

Smallists

Lately, I've heard a lot of comments about small people that make me madish-defensive.

First: someone was talking about running and preparations for a half marathon. She said how all her training friends were shorter than she is, so naturally she runs faster. Uh. So you're faster than everyone you're taller than? Most of the best women distance runners are TINY.

Second: at symphony last night I heard some woman talking about the pianist. The pianist, Russian, was not short and not too thin. She was in shape and obviously had buff arms from playing the piano. Fine. Normal, right? This woman said something ridiculous like, "Wow, it's amazing she gets such a sound out when she's that tiny. I wouldn't think she had it in her to play like that." Whaaaat? People are so weird.

Anyway, I don't play the piano as well as this concert pianist, but I CAN play the piano (small hands and all) and I can run faster than some people who are taller than I am.

The answer!

Okay, no one posted an answer so I looked it up myself. The sun DOES set later at altitude. It also rises later at altitude.

At most latitudes on the Earth, the effect of increased altitude is the same: it makes the Sun rise earlier and set later than it would at that same location from the ground. The variation with altitude is approximately linear, and so we conclude that sunset is later by 1 minute for every 1.5 kilometers in altitude, and that sunrise is earlier by the same amount.

I am at 5,280 ft but the trail run I do is at about 7800 ft, or about 2.5 kilometers high. That means the sun sets about 2 minutes LATER than it would if I were standing in the same spot, without the mountain below me.

Cool. We just have to keep going up and the sun will never set? :)

Comment on this:

Okay, people. I know you're reading this. And, I know you're smart. Answer this question (obviously, I thought of it when I was atop a vicious 50 minute climb on my favorite trail out here):

Does the sun set later the higher up you go?

That'd be a like a chapter from Alan Lightman's Einstein's Dreams...

Love

Yesterday I went to dim sum with a friend from grad school. He's Korean, was a journalist in China and is now studying for his PhD in International Studies. Mid meal, he answered his cell phone. He spoke calmly in Korean and even his "mmms" were caring, so I knew it was someone in his family. He mentioned before that his father passed away, so I guessed it might be his mother. After he got off he said, "That was my mom." I asked what she said and he responded, "She called because she had a nightmare." I don't know why, but that struck me as particularly moving. Somewhere across the world, in the middle of the night, a woman called her grown son just to hear his voice after awaking from a nightmare. That is love.

Blech

What an overall bad day. I have a case of the what-ifs. "What if I don't do well?" "What if I never came to law school?" "What if I can't find an internship?" "What if I stay pathetically single forever [I think I have just 1 or 2 other friends who are still single, including friends from grade school, college, boston, and denver.]?" "What if ..." etc.

The only good part was my track workout (!). I did the same as last week, but this felt much better.

6x1k with 1/4 mile "active rest"
4:10
4:08
4:07
4:06
4:07
4:04

Boo-yah! I felt strong and got (minimally) faster as I went. Overall, I was going for the my-body-is-efficient feel and I wanted to finish the workout feeling like I could do more.

Riddle me this

Recent Musings:

1. The importance of a little line heading southwest.
The other day I was running with a friend. She knew the way and I didn't so she was directing me, interspersing our regular conversation with the directions. She said:

We are turning right, not here, but after the gray house...

So, I'm searching for the gray house, step off the curb and all of a sudden our legs are atangle and my friend is turning right. What she really meant to say was:

We are turning right. Not here, but after the gray house...

And people think commas aren't important!

2. Born into the wrong language.
So, do people who have lisps have lisps in whatever language they may speak? If I have a lisp in Spanish (Lith the thing of thpain), will I necessarily have a lisp in Russian? Ah ha! It couldn't possibly transfer to Swahili which is, as I understand it, a click language. What if that is the ultimate accident - being born into the wrong language? And, anyway, how much of the lisp thing is cognitive? Biological? Physiological? Curious. Very curious.

3. Non-sensical crossings of senses.
Why do certain things seem to go together? The brain is so strange.

North = Up. South = Down.
Blue = Sad. Yellow = Happy. Pink = love. Green = Earthy.
Dark = Sleep. Light = Awake.
Major Key = Happy. Minor Key = Sad.
[I had more, but now they escape me.]

Really lucky people have synesthesia. Check it out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synesthesia

Trying not to Globalize

This epitomizes my day: I was out for a walk this evening and stopped to smell the roses. They didn't smell. Even worse, my gut reaction was to be embarrassed (what!?) that I had done something so naive as to stop and smell the roses, actually expecting them to smell good.

Sigh. Is the week really just beginning?

Photo updates

I saw this sign a few weeks back and had to take a picture. I think it's hilarious.















Like many cities, Denver has a First Friday where galleries are open late with new exhibits for the month, free wine and snacks and live music. There's mostly bad art, but some of it is decent. I went on Friday and one of the galleries had a ribbon dancer (or whatever you call it) like those Cirque-du-Soleil people. Pretty cool. I love the contrast of the blue ribbon and the yellow/orange bright painting on the wall in the background.

Ask and thou shall receive

Good news! As Vice President of the Jewish Law Student Association (JLSA) this year I am in charge of planning and running the Fall Speaker Event. Yikes! We wanted someone to give a talk who would appeal to a lot of people: Jewish law students, non-Jewish law students, DU students at large, and Jewish people in the community generally. So, we heard that a Colorado State Court of Appeals Judge is a practicing Orthodox Jew and thought that was a perfect match. We hope that he can talk about the overlap of American law and Jewish law; and, how does he live as a modern practicing Jew, while balancing the demands of a highly public, morality-related professional career?

One thing: I, the lowly law student, had to ask this important, highly-respected, and high-up Judge if he wanted to come speak at DU. What if I sound like an idiot? Or he laughs and says No Way Jose? After exercising expert Google skills, I cold called him this morning. Nerve-wrecking!! I was sweating. I introduced myself and asked the woman who answered the phone if I might leave a message or speak with the Honorable Judge Richman. The woman who answered the phone (Clerk? Administrative Assistant?) said something like, "Well, you can probably leave a message, what is it about?" I told her and she put the Judge on the phone - Success! Once he was on the phone, it was much easier. I explained who I am and what I wanted. He was friendly, pleasant and said Yes, he'd be happy to come and speak in October. Perfect! It was so easy!

We have an awesome Fall Speaker and I can now go on with the rest of the plans like booking the room, getting food, making posters, advertising in the community...

Honorable Colorado Court of Appeals Judge David Richman
Title: TBD
7:00 p.m., October 14, 2009
Sturm College of Law, Room 165
Refreshments served.

On the Socratic Method

My Professor started a blog to discuss a movement called "Humanizing Legal Education." I posted this response on it. The original, and her blog, may be found here.

I hope to answer these questions about Socratic method somewhat indirectly by writing about a few things I’ve noticed in being part of the Socratic method of teaching here at law school. As I understand Professor Pollvogt’s definition, a dialogue is a conversation and exchange of ideas between people with a goal of resolving a problem.

First, I don’t think Socratic method allows for a conversation or exchange of ideas. I think it allows the questioner (a professor) to put forth his or her own ideas. Sometimes the professor’s ideas are expressed by the professor. Sometimes, the professor’s ideas are stated by the student. This happens when the professor’s questions are so pointed that they are actually simply a statement with the intent to get students to “participate” by giving them the chance to answer the obvious: ‘Yes’ or ‘The holding of the case is….’ When Socratic method is used, I hardly ever get to express my ideas, because I am only allowed to answer the question I am asked. When we students aren’t given the opportunity to express our ideas or engage in a professional discussion, how could it possibly be a dialogue or true exchange of ideas?

Second, I don’t think Socratic method in law school reaches a resolution. From my perspective, we aren’t presented with clear pictures of the problems. Why not? I speculate that professors don’t want to seem as if they aren’t experts or don’t have a professional stance on issues. In that vein, rather than present impartial, equally-powerful, legal rational for all sides of an issue (problem) and then turn it over to the class for debate, professors argue for a position (resolution) and then use Socratic method to dare the class to challenge his or her position. What may be worse than the abuse of the Socratic method, though, is that the professors tend to meld the issue (problem) with their position (resolution). I often leave class struggling to identify what the issue was and whether the professor’s position was merely a personal/professional opinion or actually the undisputed, resolved Black-letter-law.

Finally, a few thoughts on Socratic method. When done poorly, it’s patronizing, condescending and a waste of time. Many times I have sat through classes where Socratic method was used to review the facts, holding, reasoning and procedural posture of the case. Why did I do the reading if we painstakingly were going to review it for the first hour of class? What was I learning from the professor, if I had already learned everything being said in class from doing the reading? Why was I sitting in class, or, why did I even bother doing the reading? I find it patronizing that professors think I don’t (can’t?) understand the basic facts and holding of a case. I find it condescending when professors are visibly shocked that a student could possibly have such an insightful comment. Or, when professors say things like, “I have never thought of that before” or ” I’ve never heard that in all my years of teaching.” In one class during my 1L year, if a student had a particularly impressive comment, the professor would not attempt to provide further insight, but rather would restate the student’s comment in his own words, presenting it to the class as if he, the professor, had thought of it himself. It seems like Socratic method would be better served if used to delve into the big-picture concepts or flesh out the unwritten assumptions instead of using it to do book review-like case summaries.

I think Socratic method could be great. I think it should be a part of legal education. It has the potential of teaching through showing, by walking students through logical steps so that students may arrive at a WHAT with a solid understanding of the WHY. I’m just not convinced that professors use Socratic method purposefully in legal education.

The Clintons

The day after Bill Clinton makes a private "humanitarian mission" to North Korea, his wife, U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, takes credit for the freeing of two American Journalists, Laura Ling and Euna Lee. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't want them to be released. But, strange, no?

A few points on the issue:

Is Bill doing Hillary's work as, essentially, the highest foreign affairs diplomat? Is it okay for "private" citizens to meddle into foreign affairs? Okay, Bill is hardly a private citizen, but that is completely stepping on the toes of the Obama administration.

Why did Hillary refuse any other collaboration with North Korea based on the lives of 2 people? Should 2 American's lives take precedent of, say, almost 24 million North Koreans? And, if she's really going to do things "on principle" then why bargain 1 Bill visit for 2 released journalists. I thought she was taking a stand on North Korea's human rights violations, not reaching into her personal pocket.

Why was there such great, high-level US foreign policy involvement in the release of these 2 American journalists -- who were doing at least some things wrong -- when the US stayed out of the situation of 1 (Iranian-) American journalist, Roxana Saberi, who was arrested, jailed and sentenced for doing nothing wrong? It's so strange to me that the US government reacted so differently to almost mirror situations: journalists, women, American + [ethnicity of region in which they were arrested], doing inconsequentially to nothing wrong, harsh sentence, etc. Why would the journalist in the Middle East result in a purely "general public outcry," whereas the journalists in Northeast Asia receive the attention of the highest-ranking cabinet member and chief advisor to the president on foreign affairs. I mean, really, don't both Iran and North Korea already have nuclear weapons?

When was the last time you even saw Hillary and Bill in the same country at the same time? Talk about a marriage of convenience [or, business partnership]. Every photo of them, ever, looks like an awkward farce to show personal affection for each other. Hands on shoulders. Gripping arms as if pushing each other way. Weird, people. Weird.