HIGHS AND LOWS (but lows being of the good kind. Sort of.)

The day started out very promising, weather-wise. It was warm enough that I took off my scarf and nearly took off my jacket while walking to work. Ah, I thought, it is finally warming up! Nice job, Anchorage. Yesterday it was 58 degrees at 6 pm and 60 degrees at 8 pm. Could Anchorage be the only city in the world that is warmer at night than in evening?

I prepared for my client interview with as much vigor as I could muster in the morning, which isn't much in the best of situations. Well, at least I woke up at 5:45 am instead of 4:45 this time.

At 10 am, I had my briefing with Supervisor, who listened to my research results and shaped the project for the next two weeks. It's going to be a lot of work, and most of it legal research. But at least I can see where it's going.

At 11 am, the client came, and I took a whack at questioning her about the stuff in her file. We covered three topics, and each time I couldn't think of any more questions, I sat back and turned it over to Supervisor, who said, "I just have a couple questions," and then would proceed to go at it for at least as long as I had. Supervisor is good about trying to make me feel like I'm doing important stuff. I'm grateful. Like I said, this is a great first legal job, in large part because Supervisor views it as a pedogogical process (he used to teach). But I also feel like, hey, Supervisor's got 15 or so years of experience on me, and there's no way I can expect to know or anticipate the kind of things he knows. It's good to know your limitations. I accept them. I guess it's easier when you don't really care about going into law.

The client had a lot of bad shit happen to her. It was a little hard to pin down exactly what happened, due to bad memory and perhaps some tendency to exaggerate. It's hard to know when to believe the client, which is the same experience I had in the legal services student organization I took part in during the school year. Most of the people I know strive for a certain level of accuracy, exactness in storytelling. They're aware of the filters through which they view life.

The interview took 2 hours, and Supervisor said I was very "calming." That's what my legal writing student instructor said too, when I was asking questions during someone else's practice appellate argument. "You've got this Oprah thing going on," she said. I should go into some field where that's valued. I tell ya.

After lunch, I was online trying to find a car to buy (thanks to J1's commonsensical and encouraging advice delivered via email last night), and asked the other intern and then one of the paralegal/administrators, who said, "Well, for a junker, I wouldn't pay more than $1000. But you know, Other Supervising Attorney has an old car she's been trying to get rid of. I'd ask her first."

So I wandered over to Other Supervising Attorney's office and the administrator called out, "Hey, Other Supervising Attorney! Got a junky old car you wanna get rid of?" And OSA said, "Yeah! You want it?"

"Ye- yes!" I stuttered. "I'd be willing to buy it or lease it for the summer."

She waved the suggestion off: "No, just drive it around and try to sell it for me. I have a For Sale sign on it but I never drive it around, so no one ever sees it."

"Really? I would totally pay you to use it."

"No, no. Just use it."

"Wow! Thanks! Gosh, it can't be that easy," I said.

"Yeah, it's fine. Do you drive stick?"

"Oh," I said. "I knew it couldn't be that easy," I replied, crestfallen.

"You can learn how to do it," she said encouragingly.

"Well, theoretically I do know how to drive stick -- I've had lessons," I brightened up again.

"Well, that's fine then."

"Wait, it's not going to break down on me halfway to Denali, is it?"

"Um... no, I don't think so. I mean, I drove it for a month without oil and it did fine. Does even better now that I put oil in it."

So for the price of a registration sticker and emissions check, I have a car for the summer. And if I burn up the clutch, Roommate said, we could just pay her the $1500. Wow!

Thus, a HIGH was achieved today. Such generosity!

(Since the administrator was so good at getting me what I wanted, I asked her to find me a boyfriend too. She said she'd work on it.)

My co-intern drove me home today because it was raining, and told me that the area I live in was -- way back when -- the area where "naughty things happened." Like, you know, where the prostitutes hung out. Interesting! But the weather was a drag -- it probably dropped to about 50 degrees this afternoon.

The prostitutes seem to have moved on (as far as I've seen). But there is a Wonder Bread factory right around the corner. I kid you not. There are a dozen big, white Wonder Bread/Hostess trucks parked there in the evenings. And there's also a bread thrift store, where all kinds of breads (not just white bread, but honey wheat berry and honey oat and other semi-healthy stuff) are half the price you find at a grocery store. Like, 4 loaves of bread for $5! I bought just two -- one for Roommate and one for me -- at $1.39 each. Yay!

So, another HIGH (a smaller one, but extraordinarily -- and disproportionately -- pleasing) today.

The LOW wasn't a serious low, it was just a "Million Dollar Baby" low. Haven't seen it? Well, I hadn't either, but it was playing at the $3 theatre, and Roommate wanted to see it, so we went and ordered giant nachoes and settled in, and even though I knew the ending of the moving, I was deeply depressed afterwards. So much so that I bummed a cigarette off someone while coming out of the theatre. I was also deeply impressed. Very nicely done, Clint.

The older I get, the less I want to see serious movies. I don't want my entertainment to be serious and depressing. Maybe it's because I find life depressing enough that I just want to escape when I'm entertained. The inequities of life weigh somewhat heavily on me, which is a stupidly round-about, fancy-pants way of saying that there's a lot of crappy stuff that happens in the world, and when I learn about that crappy stuff, it makes me sad, and I don't want to sit down and take in manufactured sadness. (That's too bad, because I probably miss a lot of great art that way. Then again, most of the movies out there are crap anyway.)

For those who have seen the movie, I wonder, is it really better to have had the shot at greatness, to have been a contender? I asked Roommate that, and she said, "I don't know. I think I get a lot of pleasure from small things." It's the age-old dilemma: you can't be risk-averse if you dream big. (Well, I guess you can, if you leave it at dreaming only.) There's a Dido song where she sings, "I've always thought that I would love to live by the sea/ To travel the world alone and live more simply/ I have no idea what's happened to that dream/ Cos there's really nothing left here to stop me." I like that, partly because I think that happens a lot. You let go of dreams you used to have, slowly, through the years. Maybe you've changed, or realized you didn't really want the thing you thought you wanted, or found out that it was harder than you thought -- almost impossible to make that dream come true.

I don't remember a lot of the dreams I had. Work in the movie industry, I remember that. I think I realized that I didn't fit personality-wise into Hollywood, and that hanging out with theatre/actor types made me feel insecure. I wanted to write book. I still have that dream.

I guess I think about dreams a little differently than when I was a kid. If I were to die tomorrow, what would I regret not doing? I would regret not being on better terms with my mother. (I'm working on it.) I think that extends to my aunt and uncle, from whom I've drifted in these confusing adult years. I wish I could send them on a trip to Europe, because my aunt has never gone.

Other that, I can't think of much. Sure, it would be nice to see drive across the U.S. someday. It would be nice to be really, really well-versed in some subject area. It would be nice to set up my ex with money for college. It would be nice to act in a play or movie. But I think I could go without feeling that I left something undone.

Interesting.

But you can't end a day with 18 hours of daylight on a LOW. (You can, however, start it on a LOW, since you wake up at four frickin' forty-five every day). When we were coming in from the movie, Landlady stopped us and said, "Hey, i was thinking that if you guys didn't have anything else to do this weekend, you could go down to my house in Kenai while we're in Maine. There's nothing inside [she just bought it], but it's a block from the beach." Wow! I guess I need to learn how to drive stick before the weekend. But hey, when it's light till midnight, there's plenty of time after work to learn! Ha ha!

Omigod. I'm totally sun-crazed. I gotta go to bed.