This picture was taken last night as I was reading the students’ pre-trial motions in limine and redacted exhibits the night before the trial. And, not coincidentally, as I was planning how to be the meanest judge they’ll ever have the “pleasure” of appearing before.
Better me than a real judge, though, no? Better to learn before it means something to their bottom line, and their client’s. The luxury of being able to learn? Incredible. The joy of being able to teach? Even moreso. Every year I feel like I’ve been even meaner than the year before, and every year, the faculty keep asking me back. I guess I’m doing something right, which is wonderful, because I feel like I learn something every year I do it. Every year, one of the students has a novel approach to the same two fact patterns, or has an interesting way of arguing the same evidentiary argument. Sometimes, they’ve just got a nice way of arguing or examining, or a nice set of postures, poses, and vocal intonations. It’s the least I can do.
You can find links to others’ Love Thursday submissions here, at Shutter Sisters.
I very much feel this way about myself– I invest a lot (often too much) of myself in my day, in my interactions. Maybe it’s the bipolar, maybe it’s just being too sensitive, or too critical, or fussy, or something, or maybe it’s just the need to monitor my own output a bit better– in any event, by the time lunch rolls around, I need a little alone time, some putting back into myself. A half hour with a book and some food usually does it, though I’m also trying to give myself a fifteen minute break for tea and a cookie mid-afternoon. I cherish this time alone, and get quite cranky and unproductive when I don’t have it.
But when I do? I can go back to giving (too) freely of myself. Happy LT, all. May you find all the quiet moments you need, today and hereafter. You can see other LT posts here.
I love looking up at architectural details. I love the details themselves– the different styles and eras, the different materials, shapes, sizes, choices. I love that the act of looking up, away from the path you’re taking, lets you see something unexpected, that can make you stop. But most importantly, I love the aesthetic, which often seems forgotten today, that dictates the adornment of public building. It goes beyond my assumption that the decoration is there for the sake of increasing the reputation of the original building’s owner/commissioner. I think that aesthetic extends to a once-held public belief that all aspects of our lives were worth formalizing, decorating, making look their best.
Maybe it’s too expensive to design or execute such “ornate” details any longer. Maybe it’s considered out of “style” by modern architects or engineers. But I consider these older buildings to be the constructed equivalent of a handsome man or woman in a natty suit, with coordinating pocket square or scarf or pin, and a jaunty fedora or shawl, topped off with a boutonniere. I appreciate that they took the time to do themselves up well, for their own sake, and I appreciate the respect that their dress denotes toward all with whom they interact. In comparison. the glass and concrete towers of today seem like pretentious, immature, black-clad models wearing ill-placed slashes of red lipstick meant to shock, lining the walls of a gallery opening where they don’t belong. And anyway? I love carven acanthus leaves.
More Love Thursday submissions can be found here.
Old friends.
There’s nothing quite like them. I do love a new book, at the kitchen table, on the sofa, in my bag for on the train, in line, at lunch. But sometimes, what I need is my dog-eared, water-marked from tub reading old friends– the kind of old friends you buy backup copies of, if you can, because you know that binding’s going to go any day now. And the old friends are there for me– when I’m sick, when I’m lonely, when I’m feeling misunderstood, before bed to ensure comfortable dreams.
I suppose it says something that my favorite books are all fantasies about intelligent characters who feel lonely and are looking for something completing, but the fact that they find theirs always reassures me that I can find mine.
The solace of reading is something that can be hard to describe in words. Susan Carlin did it in paint, a piece called “Afternoon Flight” that she recently posted on her blog.
Happy Love Thursday. For more links to other LT’ers, follow this link to Shutter Sisters.
My dad and I get along like gangbusters now, and I’m fortunate that he and the BH like and respect each other. That said, he’s sometimes of a melancholy/quiet/taciturn/curmudgeonly disposition, so we often go on nature walks with a particular goal in mind, so there’s something to talk about or organize ourselves and our conversation around. Since dad’s a natural teacher, too, it gives him something to talk about and speculate about. Sometimes we bring the field guides, but I always bring my camera, so there’s something to use as a reference when looking things up later.
Last Sunday was a walk to Jamaica Plain’s Arnold Arboretum, and the goal was pussy willows and witch hazel. It being an Arboretum, there were multiple samples, of course. But when I look at these photos, I don’t just see the interesting differences among plants.
I don’t just wonder anew at the variety of nature.
I also rejoice that I’m able to go for walks with my sometimes grouchy father, who’s long since made amends for any harm he did oh, so long ago.
Happy Love Thursday.
