Essen.Jura.Denken. DO go together.

the “whole30” Day 1

I’ve caught several glimpses of myself in the mirror lately and I have NOT, at all ,liked what I’ve seen. There is a baby spare tire gathering around my waist. Bags under my eyes. My muscular legs have withered. 

At 26, I should be full of energy and life. Vibrant. Instead, I am tired and grouchy all of the time. 

I’m a firm believer in karma and energy, so lately I’ve been pretty chill, putting out some good vibes, getting some back in return. It’s definitely been working, but still, something is not right. 

I think it may be that I haven’t been taking my health seriously. I haven’t regularly exercised since the beginning of law school two years ago, and my diet consists of starbursts, some cookies and oddles of coffee, pastas and Chipotle. 

I used to be so fit! I was a high school cross country runner! What happened? 

I’m sure law school happened and some other things, but enough! I look and feel gross. 

Enter my roommate and the whole30 diet. Apparently, she tried it during finals last semester and lost weight. She also said she felt great, and ended up doing well on her exams. 

Sounded intriguing- so I decided to try it. 

The Whole30 is basically about eating whole, natural foods instead of things processed. 

Well, that’s what they say. What I am really doing is eliminating ALL grains and ALL dairy and ALL processed/extra sugar. 

I can’t even have QUINOA! 

I believe this diet will help me with some of my epic sugar cravings, my carb cravings and eating just for the hell of it. 

So today I began my journey. 

I don’t like it. 

I love sugar and carbs so much. So so so much. What I love more than both of those, however, is dairy. Dairy is my best friend, it constantly makes me happy… and now I can’t even have it. 

Oh well. Forge on! 

This morning (or afternoon, should I say) I made myself a nice chicken sausage and kale frittata. Side of extra kale, because green. 

Did not like. Just wanted to eat the pile of Starburst so conveniently left next to my bed. 

This is going to be a long journey, but I’m going to do it. I have trouble with commitment, with sticking through. This isn’t going to only be a reconstruction of my gut, but it’s also going to be me doing something I am not really good at. Following through. Committing. 

I just… I am already sick of eggs. 

survival is living

this post is mostly for myself. but you all can read it. I hope it speaks to some people who feel absolutely desolate about themselves sometimes. Just think about yourself and all of your good qualities. Acknowledge the bad. You are worthy & worth immense love, I hope. Ah-HEM.

Have you ever survived? You shove your good looks, your brains, your accolades in my face, but 

I mean been alone? I mean found a train in a foreign country. I mean ride in a car with complete strangers on the way to Berlin. I mean drunkenly ride your bike in the middle of the Reeperbahn, I mean live off of 30 Euro a month, sometimes. I mean worked four jobs in college. I mean counsel a rapist in his jail cell while he is standing with 40 other grown men that look like they want to eat you? 

I have. I have survived and done it well. 

I have also cheated on people and lied. I am not the world’s best law student or daughter, and heavens knows not the best friend. But I have SURVIVED and LIVED. 

I have moved all of my life’s possession via New York City transit. I have watched my grandmother wither away and die. I have cried in a corner while contemplating.. well, life, are ya worth it, I have lived this entire time in New York with not more than 5000 dollars to my name at any given moment, I have been lost lost lost.

I have lived. 

You think you might be better than me. With your looks. Looks wither and fade. You think you are smarter than me, but knowledge, always knowledge can be acquired. The brain is a muscle to be trained. You think you are more successful than me, but tell me, how do you define your success? Is it to make money and become a cog in a corporate machine? Or is it to be free and happy happy happy. Not superficially happy, but the deep happiness that comes often with deep sadness. Do you feel and do you live deeply? You think happiness is sleeping with multiple exotic women, always different, always changing, but happiness can be found in one person, if you look. If you want to find it. 

I have survived, and you have not. I have lived and you have not. 

I am worthy of love and attention. I am not a downer, I am not negative and not to be shoved in a dark corner because it is not always sunny in Brooklyn. 

Rather I know sadness, but great joy. I know life. 

And you, for all of your boasts, talents, and looks, cannot possibly think to take that away. 

happy [freezing] new year!

whew! it has been awhile since I’ve been on the Tumblr. so happy new year, happy holidays, etc. 

I am now on my LAST semester of law school! I can’t believe what an incredible journey this has been for me and my classmates. I have learned an incredible amount about myself and the wide world, what I want and who I am. While I still have a long way to go- I know I am getting there, inch by inch. 

I make lose resolutions. They really have no substance nor are they ever written down. They are just there, gentle reminders that float around my head from time to time. ONE of those resolutions that I would love to stick to though, is to get back into health and fitness. My poor, neglected body is so out of shape, and at 26 I need to start really taking care of her. 

I’m running the Queens half with a friend in March and I will be following the Hal Higdon intermediate half marathon training plan. (Found here: - I think you might have to copy/ paste and I am sorry). 

So my new posts will mostly be about training and how to be healthy, body, mind and spirit. I’ll try out yoga studios, spinning classes, rock climbing and anything to keep me in shape and not bored. 

In honor of my last law school semester, I will also be exploring and rating Brooklyn Heights and the surrounding area. 

So I am BACK!! 

I went to the Arcade Fire (“Reflektors”) secret show in Brooklyn. 

This was my first time seeing them live and they are Ahh-mazing. 

Best band I’ve seen live, hands down.

While Sufjan Stevens = #1, Arcade Fire solidified their spot as a close #2. 

This was my favorite song from the new album. Great lyrics and it rocks hard. 

Arcade Fire, absolutely worth all the hype. 


Reflektors @ 299 Meserole last night brought much-needed light to my dark matter. AF4EVR.

…amazing show. It only would have been better if I spotted my #1 Sufjan Stevens there. 


Reflektors @ 299 Meserole last night brought much-needed light to my dark matter. AF4EVR.

…amazing show. It only would have been better if I spotted my #1 Sufjan Stevens there. 

royal robertson/26 is not 25

I spent most of last night trying to literally SQUEEZE into a pair of size two H&M pants, finally giving up when I realized that they were not, at all going to fit around my bloated middle. 

that’s when I realized, of course not. No. A 26 year old who sits on her ass most of the time, who doesn’t really watch her food intake and speaks nostalgically of her former days as a runner should not be able to fit into size two H&M pants.

I went to bed frustrated and woke up even more frustrated. Though I made it to the library, I am just alone in my little corner of my study room which made me all sorts of sad and lonely. And odd. People are usually turned off by me and my sadness and standoffness. 

I researched Sufjan Steven’s Blog, realized he wrote most of the Age of Adz album to a misogynist, paranoid schizo named Royal Robertson and felt slightly better, in tune with Suf’s oddness. 

I guess, even though I’ve been feeling lost/homesick/generally sad, my life is not as bad as Royal Robertson, even though he has a Wikipedia page. 

but then again, even though his wife left him and he believed in space travel, aliens, etc. At least he was able to convey his thoughts through signs at paintings. 

nothing besides Suf’s general oddness, pumpkin coffee and my yoga practice is making sense lately. 

the new arcade fire song is….

ok, ignoring the bizarre nature of the video… ( giant heads really REALLY terrify me) I am actually into this song. 

I very much enjoyed The Suburbs, but listening to it reminded me of my horrid, awful ex-boyfriend, so I am thrilled to 

a. hear this new song

b. really enjoy it 

it’s reminds me of 80s jamz but I think it’s still original and fresh. So props, even though I do not, at all, understand the video and it may have given me nightmares last night. 

thank you.

After a long, hot summer I had an interview with the place I want to start my actual legal career. 

After telling me that my resume was all wrong, my GPA was JUST good enough to display and correcting my assumed grammar mistakes as well as informing me that Harvard alums flock to the organization, the interviewer gave me the job and I finally got my dream internship. 

so I just wanted to thank everyone for supporting me. This internship feels like the start of a legitimate chance at a career (as the middle of my class at Brooklyn Law School, this chance is really something). I know I’ve been a little down and I complain, etc. but so many of my friends and family have been supportive. 

My family, as always giving me a little kick in the butt. And paying for my cell phone. And letting me stay on their insurance plan. And forgiving my 2 am calls.

My core group of law school friends that encouraged me even when they were facing their own struggles never failed to lift me up. 

My boyfriend with whom I shockingly made it through a summer associateship program, a broken computer, and late late nights with the relationship intact. 

My boyfriend’s family- an amazing collection of individuals. 

My best friend from college who is an marvelous individual and is full of great advice.

My best friend from high school who is an amazing ray of sunshine. 


This is definitely the happiest time of my life since I moved out of my house in Columbus and my roommates burned all of my things in a bonfire of hate. Since then I have struggled, complained, and cried. I’ve lost friends in law school for reasons I can’t articulate and I’ve been through my fair share of poor grades and terrible interviews- but all of you people stayed with me.

I think we tend to focus on the negative things and fail to acknowledge when positive changes and people stay in our lives. I just wanted to take the chance to recognize the positive things and people I have in my life and to tell you all how wonderful I find you.

Also I am not done crying or complaining. I still have two bar exams to sit through after all.  

Let’s Learn.

When I first heard about Trayvon Martin’s shooting I was incredibly shocked, hurt and angry. Nothing justifies such a senseless taking of a life. That child, (yes no matter how tall he was or how much he weighed or even how “menacing” he looked, he was a child) should not be dead.

I pride myself on not hyping up murder cases or researching or  diving into them- because I see them everyday. My defendant, the victims’ family, the emotions these cases are wrought with- I see it and I don’t want to read some pumped up version of a case. This case is different, because it concerns an issue that I feel strongly about. 

Zimmerman is not your typical defendant. My defendants are often young, black or Hispanic and the current case is not their first time around. I have defendants who’ve been in the system since age 8. can you imagine. Aggravated assault at age 8.

Zimmerman, on the other hand was employed and seemed to have his shit together. He does not fit the profile of a criminal. He was serving to protect with that gun. 

The facts are splashed all over the internet and this small, insignificant Blog post will not rehash and analyze the facts of the case. 

The verdict for Zimmerman came in late yesterday night. I was at dinner with my boyfriend’s family, and both sides of the case were thoroughly represented over pasta and a background of Frank Sinatra. Bets were placed on the verdict- and when it came- not guilty- I was not shocked. 

Zimmerman had a great self-defense case. We can’t KNOW what happened that night because Trayvon is dead. Lack of knowledge cannot be the basis of a conviction, thank goodness. If that were the case many of MY defendants would be serving incredibly harsh and punishing terms. I think the trial was an example that- even through social pressure, the legal system works. It works because my next client who’s been in the system since age 8 will have a fair trial and the reasonable doubt standard will aptly apply. Legally, the outcome of the case is exactly what I thought it should be. Legally, like it or not the man had an incredibly convincing self-defense case. 

Morally, the verdict tastes all wrong. It tastes bitter and terrible. A child is dead and no one is punished?? That seems backwards. 

The Martins can probably file a civil negligence suit. They might win and might find some justice and comfort in that. I doubt it. That family is  forever heartbroken. 

People are furious with the verdict. They call racism. They point out that it’s everything wrong with the system. 

Is race a factor? Maybe- but there are more startling and stark examples of racism than this case. Look at any given statistic on New York’s stop and frisk practices and you’ll find blind racism. Racism is very VERY much still a problem in our society and it is something that VERY much needs addressed- I’ve dedicated my life to working with our troubled population to try and fight what makes most of our prison population a minority of young, black males. Racism and racial profiling are enormously sad events that still occur today. Young black men are distrustful of the cops and white people. It’s true. It’s awful and it’s ugly. It needs to be stopped and soon. 

 While race was probably a factor here, the real heartbreaker in this case is the gun. Zimmerman should NEVER have been armed. 

Look at it this way… Zimmerman was a vigilante. There were burglaries in the neighborhood. Regardless of race I am willing to bet my precious Teddy that he would have followed, stopped and asked questions of the person. Regardless. 

Why? Because he felt empowered by his firearm. He felt, that with that firearm, the person in the hoodie, white or black or yellow or red or a happy mixture would respect his random authority. He didn’t need a police uniform with a firearm. With the gun, here was justice, defined. Working all hours of the day. Zimmerman got out of the car because he was armed. 

A tussle ensued and now a child is dead. 

Without the firearm- he wouldn’t have left the car. He would have used his cell phone to call the police while monitoring the hoodied figure in his car. He wouldn’t have left the car because you don’t just go approaching people. If the police fucked up because Zimmerman racially profiled Trayvon, then his family could have brought a 1983 suit. Trayvon would not be dead- maybe a little roughed up by the police and another example of why we need to STOP racial profiling. But Zimmerman was armed. 

Trayvon Martin. Sandy Hook Elementary. Shopping Center, Anytown USA. Columbine. 

Let’s have the death of this child as another example of why we need to absolutely STOP STOP STOP arming citizens. As an example of what happens with conceal and carry laws. We have a police force. We have stun guns and mace and judo and hell, even pocketknives in a pinch. 


Trayvon Martin died, not because of his skin color, but because some yahoo who thought he could bring justice to the streets on his own, without proper training, without any sort mental health check had a gun. This gun was like an extra shot of testosterone. Like a beautiful woman whispering in his ear about what a big, strong protector he was. 

It breaks my heart that a child died- so let’s focus on the issue. Gun violence, guns in the general society DO NOT PROTECT. How many more tragedies do we have to have before people see this? 

I hope we can learn from this- and take the opportunity to do something about it. 

** Note: I am getting a decent amount of flack about this from guns right’s folks. Which is great, the internet is a great forum for debate. I posted this for two reasons: 

1. many people think this is a big racial issue. I wanted to point out there are more issues than race here. 

2. Guns are incredibly lethal. While I do recognize there is a second amendment right to bear arms, and guns have their place in sports & hobbies, I just don’t know that it is right to arm lay people- this isn’t the wild west.  There are many alternatives to guns- non lethal. I’m not sure why it’s OK for people to romp around with guns. People have emotions. People are unstable. Not saying that ALL people are- but some. so why take the risk? 

3. For those arguing you protect your home with a gun, That’s great. Not saying you shouldn’t keep your guns at home if that’s what makes you safe. My father keeps one and my ex-Marine grandfather keeps about 10 of them.  But a gun in the home is not the same as a gun on the streets. 


I learned the word “sophomoric” my sophomore year of high school, when, by the demands of my parents, I was put into an advanced English class. It means immature, basically. I thought it was funny because I was learning about Oedipus Rex poking his eyes out and felt incredibly mature to handle something so scandalous. Incestuous too. I was all grown up (I still slept with three stuff manatees, a teddy bear and a baby blanket). 

Facebook, the ultimate “my life is fucking awesomer than yours” website brings that word to my mind again. I am 26 years old, I live in Brooklyn, New York, I go to law school, and I defend heroin addicts and murderers everyday fo free (literally, this is my life). I drink a lot but not college amounts and I only sleep with one Teddy Bear and one boyfriend (no baby blanket only because I lost it). I’ve seen people vomit and pee and strip in the subway. Actual poverty and mile high wealth are my daily. 

Grown up. Are you kidding? Hell yes. 

Back to Facebook. I look at it on my way to and from Paterson, NJ (where I work- dangerous as HELL might I add) and I see things. I see college roommates with multiple children. I see at least half of my high school class married away. The other day I saw that this girl, two years younger than I am, posted a status about her home owning. 

I am $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ dollars in debt and I might never own anything of value except a computer and (hopefully) a Burberry trenchcoat. HOMEOWNER? tiny faces, tiny hands of first, second and third babies plastered all over, pictures of old, frozen first year anniversary cakes (tastes just as good as our wedding day!) plastered all over my once interesting newsfeed.

Perhaps I am sophomoric. Perhaps my big, sophisticated life in NYC is fooling only me. Perhaps everyone with the home and the questions posed about teething are worthy of reading Oedipus Rex and I am left stuck in minors English.

so what is it? AM I sophomoric?

In some respects, yes. I cannot fathom having a baby or a home or anything that could possibly depend on me other than my bonsai tree. I shared an apartment with my boyfriend for three months and was so thankful it was not long term. (I love him- but I love him when we are  separate a couple of nights even more). Nothing should depend on me except my clients and family and friends. I cannot. 

In other ways, no. I recognize that I want a family and the kind of family I want. I am still growing as a person and  I don’t really know all who I am so how can I expect to have a husband, house or kids? Maybe immature underdeveloped in some ways. No house. No kids. No future ring or engagement announcement on the horizon.

I’m OK. I might be.. let’s say SEMI sophomoric, but I know once I have those things I’ll have exactly what I want. because I’ll know who I am and I’ll have independence and a career. 

I know there are so many like me out there who occasionally feel a bit.. stunted. sophomoric. lost. 

are you having fun? are you doing something that makes you happy? some goals? some cash? 


Then don’t worry about all of the homeowners and mothers. We’re having more fun anyways. Even if we are sophomoric.