I've been running again for about 6 weeks now.  It's nice to be past the initial painful stage, but I still have a long way to go.  I'm running a 5K next Saturday, which could very well kill me.  5Ks are a little too much like a sprint for my taste.  I do better with long, grind it out races, where my per mile time can be slower, but still respectable.  A 5K is pretty much all out the whole way, and my all out is... well, not yet pretty.  I haven't lost much weight yet, which is somewhat disconcerting.  But I know it will happen, so long as I keep at it.  If you run at least 30 miles a week for long enough, and you got excess pounds like I do, you're going to lose weight eventually.

One thing I like about running is that, when I'm keeping it up, it's a constant in my life.  I know that no matter what happens on a particular day, I'm going to run.  And for that time, I'll be doing something healthy and productive.  That's one thing I respect about people with hobbies -- they have something more permanent that defines them as a person; it says something about them which isn't as transient as what they do at any one moment on any one day.

Problems don't always need fixing.  And sometimes, when someone tells you about a problem, they just want you to listen rather than to propose a solution.  Listening to a person's problem helps you better understand the person.  It makes you think -- why is this a problem for them?  what specifically about the situation is so vexing?  etc.  In describing their problem, maybe the person isn't looking for a solution, but to feel as if he is understood...

Perhaps a few more words about bar results are in order.  I think "Whew" accurately describes how I felt when I saw my name on the pass list.  I'm ecstatic, of  course, that I'm a real lawyer, that I get to start signing stuff now and sending letters to opposing counsel under my own name, rather than ghostwriting all our correspondence.  I get business cards now; I can start joining professional organizations; and what makes me happiest is that I'm free to actively find pro bono work to do.  One thing I'd really like to get involved with is individual bankruptcy.  The bankruptcy code is so incredibly complicated, the 2005 amendments were really bad for debtors, and a lot of these people really need legal advice.  I think it's a place where I have some expertise and could actually make a difference.  There's pro bono opportunities through the firm too, but I want to find my own stuff and tell the firm that this is what I'm doing, rather than the other way around, since if it's stuff I've found, I think I'll have a lot more control in the overall direction of the things I work on.

But anyway, back to the "Whew."  To me, the bar is about survival.  I don't feel a sense of accomplishment so much as relief.  Waiting for results is like being pushed out of a plane, pulling the cord on your parachute, and having it not open.  And you're hurdling toward the ground for four months, and then at the very last minute, you realize you have an emergency chute, it opens, and you're saved.  You don't pat yourself on the back for having the foresight to bring a back-up parachute as you just thank god that it opened. 

Nearly everyone I know passed.  (I should note for my non-lawyer readers that the Pass List for the Exam was made public this morning, so you can search for everyone's name who you know and see if they passed.  This is the activity to which most of my morning has been devoted.)  But I also know a couple people who didn't pass.  One of them I actively dislike.  This person is a total competitive gunner, would cut your throat to get ahead and not even have the decency to step over your corpse on the way past you.  I feel awful that this person failed though.  Because whatever else I have to say about this person, I can't say that the minimal qualfications to be a lawyer (in terms of intelligence, work ethic, etc.) are lacking.  I'm shocked that this person didn't pass.  And it is horrible that this person will have to retake the exam.  No one, not even my worst enemy, deserves that.

That's the vexing thing about the bar -- it's not an error-proof filter.  Tons of people I see as unqualified somehow passed and are running around as terrible lawyers.  Then I know people who didn't pass, who I think will make fine lawyers.  There are errors inherent in any sort of selection process, and there's always the problem that people get lazy and don't study enough, etc.  The bar is more about sucking it up and being miserable for a couple months than it is about out-witting the exam.  But it's really hard when those "errors" are human beings that you know, and that are going to have to go through this horrible process again.  I don't know if I'd have the strength to.

It also has to be hard when all your friends took this exam, and they passed and you didn't.  Just... awkwardness on all sides of that situation.

All that said, I have to admit that studying for the bar isn't as miserable a process as it could have been.  I took my Bar Review class in Malibu, and many days I studied sitting outside on this terrace overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  I did actually learn some stuff in the process.  I think the whole thing would have been rather enjoyable, if I didn't have the fear of failure hanging over my head the whole time.  With that gone, it's much easier to reflect on the whole experience and focus on the enjoyable parts.

I passed the bar.  Whew.

I spent this past weekend in Pasadena.  Randie was in town for a Women's Alumni Basketball Game, so I came up for the weekend to hang out with her and Megumi.  It was a lot of fun, but it made me a little sad because it reminded me of how much I miss seeing both of them on a daily basis.  Remembering the fun times of the past makes you wish they could last forever.  It's not that I don't enjoy where I am now; work is exciting on a daily basis.  But there are crazy situations from the Caltech years that I know will never quite be topped.

While I was in Pasadena, I took the first tour of the Caltech campus that I've really taken since I graduated.  I'd been back on and off while I was at UCLA, but this was the first time I walked around just to soak in the atmosphere, rather than because I had some engagement to attend.  Everyone always talks about how beautiful our campus is, but I have to admit that this is the first time I really noticed.  There were so many places that I passed and thought, "why didn't I sit outside here more and just read a book or drink some coffee."  Then I remembered, "oh, because I was always taking 6 classes, behind in all of them, and wanted to kill myself the whole four years."  That isn't quite the whole story, but it's a big part of it.  It was hard to enjoy Caltech while I was there, because it was so goddamn hard.  But in retrospect, it was worth it, and I miss that.

Even when I was at tech, I didn't really ever want to kill myself.  Well, maybe once or twice.  It was more a constant feeling of being overwhelmed.  After I learned the system, that feeling was less, but it never left.  There was always something to worry about.

For better or worse, a lot of what I worried about was social.  Freshman year, I was worried that Jon and Randie would break-up, because then our little social group of me, them, and Jeff would fall apart.  I'd put all my eggs in that basket, and I couldn't bear the thought of it all falling apart.  It was a perfect example of opportunity costs -- by spending all my time with them, I didn't meet anyone else in Fleming.  What were my options?  Keep investing in a deteriorating situation, or wind up completely empty-handed.  Luckily, it wasn't empty at all.  I got to know Randie, and that was worth everything that I gave up in the process. 

One mistake I did make was continuing to invest in Jon after freshman year.  I could have moved into Fleming and reintegrated into the hosue sophomore year.  Instead, I wound up in Avery, and eventually off-campus.  It's difficult to determine whether that was a mistake though.  I learned a lot from the next three years.  It was really, really painful, but it was probably worth it.  I could have lived a carefree three years in Fleming and learned nothing of the sort.  Maybe that would have been good, since I'd be a less bitter person now.  Or maybe some other challenge would have inevitably presented itself, and I still would have grown, but in an environment where I could have come out with a few more friends from college.

Then there were the academic pressures.  I wish I'd actually carried my project through and gotten a publication.  I let down a lot of people:  Dave, Sean, etc.  I wish I'd finished the ch 213 set.  I wish I'd taken classes 2nd and 3rd terms of senior year, rather than graduating early. 

Knowing you let people down is regrettable for two reasons.  You regret them having a bad impression of you.  You want to say that they just have a mistaken impression, but it's accurate.  You just fucked up.  And you also regret that you let yourself down; the feelings of others are really just copies of your feelings about yourself.  Maybe not at the time, but eventually.

Then there were the unfortunate infatuations.  I had this obsession with all things artsy and all persons artsy.  I still kind of do, but at least now I'm less willing to chase lost causes.  Maybe that's not true though; maybe I just haven't had a lost cause to focus on in a while.  I'm over that person though... very over.

I grew so much as a person at Caltech, and one thing that remembering all this makes me aware of is that I've settled in a more steady state ever since.  That is vexing, because I like to think that we never stop growing.  I suppose that could be true, but that the pace of growth changes over time, since we have relatively less to learn as time goes on.  But that can't quite be right, since there's an infinite amount out there to learn, and only a fixed amount of things we can learn at a time.  So it seems like the pace shouldn't slow down for lack of additional lessons.  If anything, it has more to do with our fixed capacity to retain lessons, which reinforces my point about it being depressing that our learning slows over time for this reason.

One pleasant surprise about the weekend was running into my favorite literature professor.  She was the one who got me into reading modern American literature -- a genre so relevant and that I'd totally written off.  The thing about this professor is that she'd be a perfect addition to any group of people.  She knows a lot about everything; she's cool and easy to talk to; she's a sweetheart.  I miss being able to take classes with her.

I also miss LA in general, and Pasadena specifically. 

One low point was running intervals on the track with Megumi.  Low in the sense that I am a fatass, and they were incredibly, incredibly ugly.  Great in the sense that Megumi is really supportive, and is a patient teacher of me, who is by no means a natural athlete.  I miss coming to Caltech for orchestra on Tuesday nights, then going to run intervals with Megumi, followed by boba and friend rice in Alhambra.  That was post-graduation, but still a very Caltech memory.

Even with all the regrets, there were lots of great memories.  And I haven't laughed as hard as I did this weekend in a long, long time.

I've started running again the past couple of weeks, and it makes me feel really good.  Tonight was an esepcially good night, because I'd taken the last two nights off, but I bounced back and ran a much quicker, more painless 4 miles than usual.  My concern when I start running is forcing myself not to stop running again.  It's all about momentum -- incorporating it into your day so that, no matter what happens, you know you're going to knock it out at some point during the day.  At first it's tenuous -- you have a long day at work or there's a movie you want to go to and you don't want to run real late when you get home.  So these little excuses turn into days off that turn into weeks and months off.  But once you put enough days of running together, there comes a critical moment, beyond which a day or two of bad days of missed days won't turn into a complete collapse.  I'm not there yet, but at least I'm closer than I was this time three weeks ago.

I went to a wedding last night, which was quite lovely.  It was very Christian, which gave me a lot to think about.  Because I actually agreed with a lot of what was said during the ceremony, but at the same time, I take it all a little less... seriously.  Which arguably means that I'm not taking it seriously at all; not really invested in a belief in God.  I don't think that's right though.  I feel I'm more a realist:  we can't be certain there's a God, but I do believe there's some higher power and Christianity on the whole seems worth believing.  It's just that, rather than invoking Jesus's name constantly, I think it better to invoke what he stood for -- love, loyalty, compassion, empathy.  And to the extent I think some principles of modern Catholicism are inconsistent with those values, I can't agree with them.  It's difficult, because I don't approve of cafeteria Catholicism, i.e., only believing the parts of a religion that are convenient for you to believe.  On the other hand, those who preach religion are as human as the rest of us, so who's to say they don't get it wrong sometimes.  It would be quite unhuman if they didn't.

Anyway, so that gave me a lot to think about because I have my foot in both camps.  I can't completely dismiss Christianity; it's been a part of me since I was very young, and I do have respect for believe who are very serious in their faith.  But sometimes it meanders into the realm of the absurd, and the cynical part of me feels compelled to point that out. 

Weddings bring out other emotions too.  It was really sweet and touching to see how in love the couple seemed to be.  They'd met in college, been together for years.  The wife's family seemed to know the husband and vice-versa and everyone seemed to genuinely like one another.  They had all these friends there, supporting them.  I'm a very jaded person, but deep down, I couldn't help be feel a strong sense of joy for these people.  Here are two people who found one another and deserve the happiness the other provides.  How wonderful for them.

And how alone I am.  I say that in a matter-of-factual way, not a pitiful one.  It wasn't so much that I was depressed to be alone as I was conscious that I am alone.  The contrast was apparent, which isn't to say that two very different things can't both be good.  Being presented with the difference does make you think, though.

There were some awkward points in the table conversation last night.  One prompted someone to ask me, "so who are you..." in that open-ended sort of way that represents both a desperate attempt to dispel boredom and perhaps draw out a complex existential response.  Well, I couldn't come up with anything on the spot, so the question didn't accomplish either of its instant objectives, but it did get me thinking seriously about it. 

I still don't have a great answer.  I've reached a non-descript phase of my life.  I'm into law, and I have an endless array of opinions about all sorts of things involving it.  I like to read; I like classical music, and when I apply myself I can be a passable runner.  But a lot of my ups and downs have been replaced by a monotonous continuity.  It's been a while since I've been hopelessly infatuated with someone who I had no chance with.  Or desperately trying to save a relationship that was crashing and burning.  I haven't wanted to kill myself in a while.  What are the major issues that I face as a human being?

If there is one, it's in trying to define whether I'm judgmental or accepting.  I draw this weird line, where I'll be accepting of anything my friends do, but I'm super catty and condescending about minor choices that people I don't know make.  This can be a problem though, because I think my new friends at work might mistake my openness about judging other people and discussing with them as a general cynicism that also includes me judging them.  But that's not so -- after all, I'm so judgmental of the general populace, that the people I wind up friends with, I usually have an enormous amount of admiration for.  Sure I make snide comments to them occasionally, but when you say something snide to someone to their face, you don't actually mean it.  (If you do, that'd be horribly cruel.) 

It's all very complex though.  I'm insecure and in need of approval from others -- so I have this very touchy-feely streak in me.  But there's another part of me that's sarcastic and cold.  I don't know how the two parts co-exist, or if they actually both stem from the same discomfort in my own skin.  Whatever the situation, my biggest worry is that people see one aspect of the whole, assume that's all there is, and get a mistaken picture of me in their head. 

That doesn't address who I am, as much as what I'm afraid others think I am, but it's the first thing that pops in my head as a potential response to the question.

I'm the one without a soul
I'm the one with this big fucking hole

I keep seeing all these commercials that are criticizing Cruz Bustamonte, a candidate for California insurance commissioner, for accepting campaign donations from insurance companies.  They go on and on about how much he's taking, etc.  The commercials are on behalf of Steve Poizner, who brags that he's taking no money from insurance companies himself.  Of course, that's much easier to do when you use at least $6 million of your own money to finance your campaign.  I take no position on whether either candidate is a good guy or not.  But doesn't it stand to reason that insurance companies are among the biggest donors to a candidate for insurance commissioner?  With any form of regulation, the benefits are diffuse while the burdens are concentrated.  So who's more likely to give money to Bustamonte:  the average motorist who might see a fluctuation of $30 a year in his premium or large insurance companies that stand to gain or lose millions?  Couple that with the fact that insurance companies have better information about the candidates -- again, out of greater interest -- and are thus more likely to predict which candidate will give them a better return on a donation (investment). 

If there's a day of the year that's my favorite, the day we set the clocks back one hour is it.  Rarely a day goes by when I don't roll out of bed knowing that I should've rolled out of bed at least half an hour earlier.  But on daylight savings day, I'm actually 30 minutes ahead of schedule.  And many years (this one included), I don't even realize that it's daylight savings day.  So I have that initial awful feeling of being late, only to realize that my fortune is not as bleak as I first thought.  Usually, I'm already up and about by the time I figure it out, so there's no opportunity to sleep that extra hour away.  It's all mine.

That said, I'm having a crappy weekend.  I have a lot of work to do.  It's really interesting stuff, but I'd rather have the two days off.  I'm now an expert in inflammatory bowel disease, methods of treatment, what causes it (to the extent that's known), and how the body breaks down the drugs used to treat it.  It's interesting, because what we actually administer to patients (azathioprine), isn't actually what is active in the body.  Rather, azathioprine breaks down into 6-thiogauninine (6-TG) nucleotides, and they are active.  But there's a competing metabolic pathway, whereby azathioprine is diverted instead into 6-methyl-mercaptopurine (6-MMP), thanks to catalysis by an enzyme called thiopurine methyl transferase (TPMT).  About 11% of the population has a genetic mutation, however, that causes them to have little or no active TPMT.  So their bodies make lots of 6-TG and very little 6-MMP.  Making 6-TG is good, since that's what suppresses the immune system (in turn relieving the inflammation characteristic of IBD), but too much of it can lead to toxic side effects.  Conversely, if your levels of 6-MMP are too high, that can also be toxic, and if your body is making too much 6-MMP and no 6-TG, not only our you slowly poisoning yourself, but there's no let up in the sloppiness of the shits you're taking.  So there's a real dilemma:  it's hard to predict what giving someone 25 mg of azathioprine will do to the levels of those various compounds in their system.  Although, we now know which gene regulates TPMT activity, so if we test people to determine the genetic level of TPMT activity, it helps.  There's other issues as well, but by monitoring levels of 6-TG and 6-MMP, it greatly helps doctors safely and effectively use azathioprine to treat IBD. 

Anyway, the case I'm working on involves a patent that covers a specific therapeutic range of 6-TG and 6-MMP, and one issue is whether the people who patented the range were actually the first to invent it.  So I've been pouring over hundreds of medical articles this weekend trying to figure that out.  We're taking a deposition of this doctor in the field on Thursday, and I have to figure out what we're going to ask him and run it by the partner who's actually doing the deposition sooner rather than later.

I'm enjoying learning about the science behind all this, but it would have been nice to just buy a couch this weekend instead.  One problem with me and work is that it's hard for me to stop thinking about what I will have to do later long enough to enjoy doing other things now.  So it's better for me just to get it done, but then it takes way longer than I planned, and it turns out to be all I end up doing.

Meanwhile, I feel guilty because I didn't go to a work friend's party last night, when I really should have.  The problem is that it was mainly non-work people.  Parties bore me to begin with, and then there would have been the issue of not really knowing many people there, and not really caring about making small talk with them.  I guess if I could let myself be more engaged, then maybe I'd enjoy myself more.  It's a chicken and egg problem to some extent.  I'm not interested in people because I've convinced myself not to be interested as a defense mechanism so that I don't have to try and fail.  Or so the theory goes.  But whatever the cause of my disinterest, disinterested I still be.  Which is why I didn't want to trouble myself with sucking it up and going out.  I enjoyed staying in, reading a book, and going for a run.  I'll get crap for it Monday, and I don't feel like making up an excuse, so maybe I'll just say, "I just don't like parties, no offense to you personally" or something of that nature. 

It's not that I don't like the idea of people, it's just that interacting with them consumes so much energy.  Especially when I work all week, I hate the idea that my weekends are taken up with still more obligations.  On the other hand, I don't like hanging out alone all the time.  It's boring and depressing, and I don't feel that great right now.  Maybe if I went to a party, I'd meet people to hang out with and have a Sunday brunch with.  Maybe. 

Trying to cheer myself (or others) up, seems like a losing battle.  What would make me feel better is a change in the facts.  But cheering up doesn't do that; it just tries to put a better spin on existing facts.  Often it doesn't do a very good job, because there's an awful lot of bad facts and no way to spin them.  Change requires time, which is what you can't spare.

Blech.

The Simpsons halloween episodes are stupid, not funny at all, and I hate the fact that I've been fucking subjected to them for the past couple weeks.  I don't know whose idea it was to start doing them yearly, but they are the worst most idiotic things ever.  The world is worse off for them having been made.