Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Cranky Day

My day started well–against all odds I actually washed my hair instead of postponing this chore for yet another day. So instead of having a minor oil spill atop my head, I had nice clean hair to fluff and play with during the day. So far so good.

It feels like winter again–and I like it. The weather was brisk and refreshing and felt good in my lungs on the ride in. I love warm breaks in winter, because they make the cold not only tolerable, but delightful.

My office was crazy warm today and I stupidly wore a somewhat shear silk turtleneck underneath a warm wool sweater. Removing the sweater was not a good idea, because today was one of my increasingly common bra-free days. Sheer shirt + no bra = even more unprofessional than I will muster. No bra + wool sweater = bad things. So instead I sweltered in my office.

I’m also bleeding like a stuck pig and feel somewhat crampy. When I am involved with someone getting my period is a joyful, no-babies cause for celebration. When pregnancy is not an issue it is just an taunting reminder that I am not getting any. Besides bloodiness, I don’t usually experience any of the other symptoms that women bitch about. It affects me about as much as picking up milk for my roommate when I am already going to the store. But today I have this weird discomfort in my abdomen and my lower back is achy. Since normally my body runs perfectly, this was distracting and put me in growley sort of mood–way too many things looked like they needed a good kick. (My feet were especially warm and looking for a way to blow off steam, too)

At 6:30 I was told that I may need to go on a stupid fucking DCFS call. Great, after spending all day reading testimony about police brutality and torture, I was supposed to head out to a CPD station to represent some little brat hoodlum who makes me want to slap him silly, or freaks me out to be locked in a room with him because he's an obvious psychopath who is only out on the street because he is too young to lock away permanently.

I hate everything about these calls: I hate dropping everything at work, I hate driving out to bumfuck suburban police stations or dealing with the total prick CPD, I hate arguing with the cops that I have a right to see my client, I hate them saying that I look too young to be an attorney, I really, really hate doing this when I wear a skirt, I hate the clients–stupid, criminal, asshole, kids who are already far too comfortable in a police station, and I hate most of all that I know far, far, far too little about criminal law and have far, far, far too little training to do this well.

Luckily, at the last moment another attorney took the call because the station was in her neighborhood. I had already gotten riled up about how much this would suck, so even though I ended up not having to go, it put me in an even worse mood. With the scowly mood I was rocking, I probably would have ended up being the party that beat the shit out of the punk at the station. "Um, pardon me officer, but may I borrow your nightstick and a phone book for a few minutes while I speak with my client?" God, the FOP would have recruited me as their mascot.

So I got to continue with my evening as planned: do some more work and then head over to the law library to research a pro-bono project for the bike federation. "How to register a trademark: Only slightly less boring than patent law!" Thrilling.

I changed into my biking-home clothes before going to the law library. The bitch security guard made me go through the metal detectors even though I had my proper lawyer IDs to bypass this hassle. grrrr. Then when the metal detector beeped at me and I said "steel-toed boots" the woman didn't even bother to wand me to make sure it was my boots. So apparently she thought I was lying about being an attorney to avoid the metal detectors, but trustworthy enough to not wand. Weird.

I hate the law library. I can never find things easily because there are very few signs, the staff is far less than helpful and the people there are an unsavory mix of stressed attorneys, freakzoids and the occassional sleeping homeless person. I was sitting on the floor in the racks reading a book when the cleaning woman walked by. She spooked and then proceded to try to lecture me for being too quiet in the library.

I've never checked out a book there before and told the person at the counter as much. He said that I needed to use my firm's library card. Now this didn't make sense to me, because I thought any attorney can check out books. I asked him if I could get a card by myself and he continued to tell me that I needed to use my firm's card. "What about unemployed attorneys, can't they check out books?" --"Sure, all attorneys can check out books." It didn't even occurr to him that I might be an attorney, and when I said that I was one, he basically challenged me to show him my ID. I threw down my ARDC card and sheriff's ID and holy shit did his manner change. From condescending to perfectly helpful in the blink of an eye. This is bullshit. The law library is for the public. Why should he treat attorneys better than regular citizens? Hell, if anything, he should be more helpful to non-attorneys since they will probably need more help, and are more likely to have a pressing reason for being there. Finally, on the elevator trip down, a whole bunch of college students and their teacher piled in. As we were leaving, I heard one student ask her teacher, "do they let anyone in the building?" Yes, you little judgmental twit--they even let you in. Is it that impossible for people to imagine that someone can be an attorney and not wear a suit?

Besides being cranky from the library, my tummy and lower back still weren’t cooperating with me, so I decided to show my body who was boss–this sort of behavior can’t be allowed to continue. There was a nice strong wind directly against me--so I decided to ride hard to burn off some of my stress and unkink my midsection. Other women can take their heating pads, painkillers and other nonsense–but fuck that, I’m not going to let my uterus pull this shit unpunished. After all, what would it be without me? I totally carry it and will not stand for this behavior from a pack of cells that does nothing productive while holding the threat of babies over me. So I challenged my uterus for a little ride and made it keep up. It was glorious and I managed to hit some green lights that I almost always have to stop for. I was really sweaty and breathing hard by the time I got home. More importantly my belly felt almost normal, and I have no reason to feel cranky.

6 Comments:

At 3:20 PM, Blogger Frick said...

You pride yourself in not acting or dressing like a typical attorney, yet you still get suprised, even pissed off when people don't think you are one.

I agree though, that the people at the library are assholes if they don't treat the public properly

Lastly, is it really necessary to post your monthly cycles on your blog?

 
At 5:08 PM, Blogger Sascha said...

It's *her* blog. This is her space. If it grosses you out, don't read it :)

Although, if I start talking about female stuff including (but not limited to), birth control, clothes, shoes, shopping, menstrual cycles, feeling prowly and other things that bore/frighten/gross out guys, I usually start out with a statement along the lines of

"guys, avert your eyes now, you probably don't want to read this. No really, you don't."

It helps keep the comments from grossed-out guys to a minimum :)

 
At 7:11 PM, Blogger jojo said...

Frick,

About my cycles--isn't most of this blog about cycling?

As for darkling's suggestion, I considered it, but then recalled how quickly you read and posted to my "brother's may not want to read post" and figured it was pointless.

Besides, I really don't know why this is such a taboo topic. When big brother pulls a muscle or a tendon he talks about it unreprimanded. Why can't women talk about things going on with their bodies with the same freedom?

Since for the most part I treat this as a journal about my life, I'm going to write about what I do, think or worry about. Simple as that.

BTW--I knew you point out this whiff of hypocrisy. I suspect that opportunities to pounce on this are a driving factor behind you reading this. I think it is funny and cute when people are surprised that I am an attorney--I don't like it at all when this demonstrates that they treat attorneys differently (better). Why should security guards and receptions lord over bike messengers or 'regular' visitors and then kiss my ass because I am an attorney? Treat everyone respectfully, and then you don't have to worry whether they are the CEO of your company or the janitor.

 
At 11:22 PM, Blogger Sascha said...

We can talk about our bodies all we want and the guys will put up with it. We just have to listen to them be sissy boys about it.

Besides, it wasn't as if you were "announcing" your cycles on here. You were bitching about stupid body crap and how it gets annoying at unpredictable moments. Perfectly legit. You can't help it that your brother is a big sissy boy.

Good for you for sticking it out btw. That's my answer for most body annoyances. As long as it's not broken, ignore it long enough and it'll eventually go away.

 
At 5:54 PM, Anonymous freewriter said...

Hell, I don't care about all the body talk. I used to have a g/f who celebrated her period [not because she wasn't pregnant] in her new agey way. Now THAT made me roll my eyes. But then, why not, better to celebrate than get pissed off.

 
At 7:57 PM, Blogger Frick said...

Ok, this is just getting hilarious. Jojo knows why

 

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