I Am a REAL American

I have lived in California, Massachusetts, Virginia, the District of Columbia and New Mexico. I've lived in cities, suburbs and in the country. North, South and West. I've been unemployed, unable to find work or pay the bills. I've been comfortable in a job I wore high heels to. I've worked jobs where I came home sweaty, dirty and tired, smelling so bad I had to change clothes in the backyard. I've drowned in debt greater than my mortgage. I've traveled abroad. One of my cars is a junker. One is a brand new limited edition. One is a classic my husband works on for fun.

Until today, I've always known who I am. A woman, a feminist, a dog lover and an equestrian. Political to a fault. An activist even. But now I'm just not sure.

Am I real or a fake American?

I was born in America. Lived in America my whole life, except for a year I spent studying abroad. My passport says United States of America. I pay taxes to the United States government every single year. I vote religiously. But now I'm told I might not be a real American, since I'm not a conservative. Or maybe it's that I work in an office. Or that I'm pro-choice. Maybe I'm not a real American because I don't wear a flag pin on my lapel. Or because I live in a place with broadband access.

This kind of talk worries me. History has taught us there is real danger in using these kind of characteristics to define who is worthy and who isn't. Our differences make us a strong, vibrant and powerful society. Our give and take keeps our policy away from the extremes and prevents the kind of horror that Europe suffered through fifty years ago. Dismissing those who disagree as being invalid isn't just rude, elitist and condescending. It's also a real threat to what makes America great.

So in conclusion, screw you Sarah Plain. Maybe I can't see Russia from my front steps, but I am a REAL American. Even if I don't spend $150,000 in two months on clothes.

And PS, thanks for my socialized health care. It's awesome to be a military spouse. Maybe some day I'll be the Vice-Presidential candidate and I'll get a socialized wardrobe too.

The Case for More Support

My husband hasn't been deployed in this war, but we have family that has gone, and part of my husband's job is support for troops that deploy. This is a common example of the toll the war takes on the family of military members. I hope that when you read it, you will understand why I feel so strongly that comprehensive marriage and family counseling must be made available to military families without cost to them, and mandatory periodic mental health counseling must be required of military members. The stigma around mental health is so strong in the military, that troops don't willingly take advantage of the resources available to them.

And please, don't forget the National Guard. In many ways, I think their burden is so much greater, because despite what people say, they never signed up for this, and their families aren't part of the military culture the same way active duty troops are and don't have the same resources available to them.

This is Public Service Announcement

When my husband and I got married I moved to Virginia to be with him. In Northern Virginia, every third person is either in the military, married to someone in the military or retired from the military. Being in the military is nothing special. Camo peppers the streets the way that blue polo shirts pepper your local Wal-Mart. It's normal.

Now I live in New Mexico, a state with a multiple military bases and an economy that attracts retirees. For the most part, being in the military isn't anything special. Sure, the students at the kid's school show a strange amount of deference and respect for my husband when he shows up to events with his uniform on. But mostly, no one pays him much mind.

But New Mexico is also very close to a number of states that have reverence for the military. When people from these states come to New Mexico they can make things very uncomfortable for my husband.

No matter how much you support the war in Iraq, no matter how much seeing a person in uniform makes you want to cry, no matter how much you swell with pride at the sight of BDUs*, do not walk up to total strangers and thank them for their service. Or give them hugs. Or tell them you are proud of them. It is weird. It is odd. It makes them uncomfortable. They are just people going to work every day. Don't make it awkward for them.

If you want to show your appreciation there are plenty of things you can do. Encourage your elected officials to provide them with meaningful education benefits, such as the New GI Bill. Lower your personal stigma against mental health disease and encourage the veterans you know to get help for the memories that haunt them. Ask for marriage and family therapy to be covered by the military health care system, to help repair the damage to families that can result from the military lifestyle. Work to bring them home to their loved ones and out of the desert. Don't support wars that aren't absolutely necessary. When you vote, remember that having served in the military does not necessarily mean they support for military members, and vice-versa.

But don't hug strangers on the street. That's just weird.

*Battle Dress Uniforms, known by civilans as Camouflage

Some Random Thoughts

1. I just received my scores from the multi-state, multiple choice section of the bar exam. Mostly they line up with my scores from law school, except for two glaring differences. The subject where I got the worst grade, Contracts, I received the highest score, the 97th percentile. The subject where I recieved the highest grade in the class, Criminal Law, I scored in the 49th percentile. I have no idea why, but I will spend a lot of time thinking about it.

2. I took my Great Dane/ Pointer cross to the vet yesterday becasue of some intermeitant, very unpleasant stomach problems. The tentative diagnosis is food allergies, which means feeding her a hypoallergenic dog food. A very expensive dog food. Do you have any idea how much dog food a Great Dane Cross eats? My rough estimate is $60 a month in dog food. That's up from the $32 I spent on her "high quality" food before. And since they don't make a large breed formula, I'm probably going to have to put her on suppliments to protect her hips and joints. I better get a really good job or I won't be able to afford to feed my mutt. So much for hybrid-vigor.

3. Any doubt that the mutt was truly a member of our family has been erased. My gun-totin', deer-killin', meat and potatos eattin' husband now has a dog that eats sweet potatos and venison dog food.

4. My new car is in the shop because one of those excessive features that has absolutely no purpose broke. But it's under warrenty, and I'm getting my money's worth.

5. I cought my step-son's cold. This is the excuse I am using not to paint the bedroom. That and the broken windowsill that I could fix myself, but would rather make my husband fix. Because if I fix it, I can't use it as an excuse not to paint the bedroom.

Negotiating

Now that I've passed the bar I'm employable. And I'm negotiating with a firm right now.

I find the process nerve racking.

I'm desperate for a job. The kind of desperation that makes smart, talented women marry a total ass. I'm a feminist who has spent the last two years financially dependent upon her husband. I've got a '95 Geo Prizm and a three year old computer as the only assets to my name. There is $800 in my IRA and I am only 30 years away from retirement. Oh, and my student loan payment is almost twice my mortgage. I need a job and I need it right now.

But I don't want to sell myself out. I read articles all the time about the pay gap. I know a large part of it is because women don't negotiate for a better starting salary. And I don't want to know that every vacation we take, every luxury we buy is paid for with my husband's salary.

But then again I like this firm and I think it will be a really good place for me.

So for now, I wait for them to get back to me. I'll let you know how it goes.

I Passed!

I have never been so happy. Or relieved. But mainly happy. I passed the bar in one try. In three weeks, I'm going to be a lawyer!

Failing Isn't So Bad, Is It?

I've suddenly been gripped by the all consuming fear that I have failed the bar exam. It is going to be a very long two weeks until the results come out.