(no subject)
Every so often, a skin slides off. Every so often, I've stepped outside without thinking, and I turn around and there I am. I've been realising I've been a little down these past six months. Stuff with my dad was awful, and we weren't talking. Matt has been in Montreal, and uni has been unrelenting, really merciless. I always want to do SO well, I can't just let myself be happy I'm doing okay. I competed in a moot (like a debate but with a pretend judge and stuff, and suits, and lots of 'My Lady'-ing) and I lost. It was a victory for me in many ways, being able to stand there and make my case (in contract law, holy moly) without fucking up, but the judge deliberated long and hard and picked another girl instead. I haven't picked up a camera in months. I don't have time to see anyone, just sit in the library, treading water. Most people on the course are pretty right-wing. It's strange to be in the belly of the beast, watching them carve out their career paths, strutting around in their suits, networking with all the right people, on their way to being millionaires by thirty. It's really hard to explain a class system to people who have never encountered the English upper class - they have this real sense of entitlement, you know? And charm! Talking to them, as a lower-class person, you may feel contempt or irritation but you defer to it, you can't help it, you nod away while they indignantly exclaim that as a criminal barrister they would "only" earn £100K a year, "...before tax!"
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Matt was back for almost a month over Christmas. It was so lovely, after being so worried that everything would be different. Everything was exactly the same. A little box of contentment and happiness, packed away, hidden away, just waiting. I saw my dad before Christmas, and it was okay. Then again last month, with my mum, and that was okay too. Baby steps, just waiting it out. They are being very supportive while I limp through law school! I know now that becoming a lawyer is not for me. Something smaller, helping people through difficult experiences, outlining their rights, something like that. Some kind of advocacy or casework.
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I had my first injunction applicant cry on me yesterday. It was inevitable, really, but a shock - I've done a few cases by now and usually the women are pretty strong, pretty resolved, pretty angry. This lady just broke down. The perpetrator had tried to suffocate her, attacked her weekly, and had beaten her four-year-old daughter. She still loves him. But she's pressing charges.
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I've developed a new policy when it comes to guys shouting lewd comments on the street. It happens a lot in Brixton. A guy was walking behind me down the street, producing a litany of lecherous comments. I turned around, and told him not to speak to me like that. A pointless discussion ensued, of course - I'm just being nice, I just like you, what's wrong with that. I told him I didn't like it, it was intimidating, and walked away. He carries on walking behind me, singing, "You too fat, you better go 'pon a diet... You too fat, you better go 'pon a diet..."
I have NEVER felt so vehemently as if I didn't need to go on a diet. Cheers, misogynistic dude!
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Matt was back for almost a month over Christmas. It was so lovely, after being so worried that everything would be different. Everything was exactly the same. A little box of contentment and happiness, packed away, hidden away, just waiting. I saw my dad before Christmas, and it was okay. Then again last month, with my mum, and that was okay too. Baby steps, just waiting it out. They are being very supportive while I limp through law school! I know now that becoming a lawyer is not for me. Something smaller, helping people through difficult experiences, outlining their rights, something like that. Some kind of advocacy or casework.
.
I had my first injunction applicant cry on me yesterday. It was inevitable, really, but a shock - I've done a few cases by now and usually the women are pretty strong, pretty resolved, pretty angry. This lady just broke down. The perpetrator had tried to suffocate her, attacked her weekly, and had beaten her four-year-old daughter. She still loves him. But she's pressing charges.
.
I've developed a new policy when it comes to guys shouting lewd comments on the street. It happens a lot in Brixton. A guy was walking behind me down the street, producing a litany of lecherous comments. I turned around, and told him not to speak to me like that. A pointless discussion ensued, of course - I'm just being nice, I just like you, what's wrong with that. I told him I didn't like it, it was intimidating, and walked away. He carries on walking behind me, singing, "You too fat, you better go 'pon a diet... You too fat, you better go 'pon a diet..."
I have NEVER felt so vehemently as if I didn't need to go on a diet. Cheers, misogynistic dude!