AGH. Stress! From not having a car! Renting a car for the two weekends that Ringleted One is going to be here will cost $400! And the single weekend of renting a car with Double M is going to be $250 at least! And the folks want to come for 6 weeks and that will be through the roof! I could buy a 1990 Honda Civic for $2000 but I'm scared of buying a lemon and having to get insurance and having to sell it myself at the end of the summer! And I could rent a car -- without personal accident insurance -- until mid-August for $2200! But is that insanely expensive and not worth it?

Well, yes.

But I am getting so stressed out about not having a car when people visit that I'm considering it very, very seriously. Like, I made the reservation already. It's not just visitors, of course. It's wanting to get to the mountains on the weekend; take advantage of the long, long evenings to go for a drive; get around with ease to the grocery stores; go to the library without having to worry about the bus schedule.

I'm nearing my wit's end ('cause you know, it ain't that long). Any suggestions from the collective wisdom out there?

Today I got to go to an administrative hearing for a client who is in danger of losing her welfare benefits. She didn't speak English, so her son translated for her. They seemed so nice, and so genuine. Their caseworker sounded like a pissy, defensive, "look, I'm trying to help these people!" kind of bureaucrat. I know she probably does genuinely want to help people, but jobs like that are built to wear you down and make you suspicious of your cases. After a few years, I'm sure that everyone looks like a deadbeat. But that doesn't make it okay. I hope we win.

My supervisor told me about something the client wanted him to say that he thought was irrelevant to the hearing, and while he wanted to respect her wishes and autonomy, he just didn't know how to do it because he really didn't think the judge would want to hear it. And then he mentioned an article that I freakin' had to read for my presentation week for Famous Minority Professor's class! I could NOT believe it. Crazy.

The article was about a poverty lawyer who had a client who'd been cut off from her benefits. She and the client figured out a game plan, which included her coming in with her children's worn-out shoes to show that she had not spent money extravagantly. At the hearing, though, the client did not meekly bring out her children's old shoes to beg for the continuation of her welfare checks. When the welfare administration officials asked what she had been spending her money on, she cast off her apologetic demeanor and tone, and said: her children's shoes. They needed shoes for Sunday.

When we read this for class, I and others thought the article was silly -- not because it was about a client who took control, even for a moment, of her life, but because the author was so rhapsodic about how the client was reshaping the power dynamic of the hierarchical system and challenging the status quo. No one thinks like that, for crissakes. I certainly don't think that our client today wanted to undermine the powers that be by asking my supervisor to talk about a certain topic. I don't know what she wanted. Maybe she didn't understand the irrelevancy to the proceedings. Maybe she just wanted the caseworker to know that something really shitty happened to her, possibly because she got dropped off of welfare. Maybe she just wanted someone to know what she'd gone through. But there's no way she was all "Fight the power!" with the welfare system.

My supervisor managed to get in a question about the topic, but not much else. It's kind of impressive that he cared enough to do that -- and important. Cause there IS a huge power imbalance, and even the most careful lawyering won't erase that. But you can do your best. (That being all you CAN do. So continueth the lesson of the summer.)

I've got a client interview tomorrow that Supervisor wants me to lead -- okay, whatever. Other schools, like the one my fellow intern went to, actually taught interviewing skills in a pre-trial class she was required to take. I'm going to be lost. But I'll go in tomorrow morning and prepare my questions and ask 'em. Supervisor knows I know nothing. (Or if he doesn't yet, he'll find out tomorrow morning, when I have to brief him on what I've uncovered on the case before the Alaska Supreme Court. Answer: not much.)

After work, I went to the Alaska court system law library again to photocopy a journal article, which I read over a BBQ chicken pizza at Uncle Joe's Pizza on G St., because I knew that if I went home, I wouldn't have it read by the time I'm supposed to brief Supervisor. It was just like reading journal articles for class. Boring.

After that, I went to the bookstore in town and browsed their $1-a-book section. You know, I do have the best of intentions. I want to read quality literature. And yet I'm irresistably drawn to crap like V.C. "Flowers in the Attic" Andrews and Robin Cook medical thrillers and other slash-and-kill murder mysteries. So I indulged in the V.C. Andrews for a while, after which my mind felt scummy and unhealthy, and then bought "Cold Sassy Tree" and a book by Straight Dope guru Cecil Adams. How 'bout a holla for some semblance of untrashiness, eh? Nice mix of Asian girl-ghetto speak and Canadian, eh? Oh man. I need help.