What's good about Kathryn?

She hasn't punched anyone in the face...yet.

I hate everything today. Everything. If you are reading this today, I probably hate you too. Although I know that's not true even as I type it. I already regret saying that and I hope I didn't hurt any feelings. I just think I hate everything today.

Guess who doesn't care about Optional Shareholder Voting and never will? That's right: me. Guess who doesn't care about Corporations in general? Exactly.

Oh, and I absolutely hate having to give a presentation that "looks good on my resume." I am so sick of resumes. And even more sick of people who look at mine and comment that something is "impressive." It's really not. It's just a little list of things I've been doing, mostly since law school. What if I slid in "hating the world and myself" as one of my "Interests"? Just to see the reaction and have something better to talk about than, "I bet you did a lot of editing while on Law Review." "Yes, I'm quite masterful at making certain that pesky period after Id is also italicized. Did I mention my self-loathing? Yes, you'll see it...down farther...right under 'Interests'...there you go!"

Seriously, no mas!

I'm just so sick of it. It's gotten past the breaking point, and it's starting to dawn on me just how bad it is. In terms of creativity, I'm cresting at perhaps a 3. Yes, fine, I'm sure that is being quite generous, but that's the point. No mas! No more with the beating myself up-figuratively. Clarification because, although it would be sad and I don't want to negate the plight of those who literally beat themselves up, for now it kind of makes me want to laugh in a childish, physical humor kind of way. Maybe my sense of humor can evolve as I get farther and farther away from the arid and disgusting boredom that has taken much too tight a grip on me. When I think about it, it's the feeling I got when I was younger checking out books from the library. Maybe it also had to do with the hot mugginess of the Georgia summers on the hard leather in the back seat of the station wagon. It could have been a lot of things, really. But to this day the plastic covering on the outside of library books makes me want to throw up. Ugh, even thinking about it now. It conjures up a deep boredom with maybe a little dash of childish helplessness that creates the lovely feeling of "wow, I think I'd like to throw up." Not that I physically could throw up. (A story for another day). Just that I'd want to. That it would be a fitting way to express what I feel inside, and that I'd feel better letting that emotion, that emotion I suppose I'd describe as "puke," out into the world and out of my system. Hmm? What do you think of that plasticky library books? You make me feel like that.

But, I digress. The point here was that I was writing in my journal, trying to think of a fitting metaphor...something that wasn't so trite and heinously over-used that I'd, again, want to throw up to express my boredom and displeasure. And I came up with...nothing. Well sadly, worse than nothing. I came up with "a Westlaw waterbottle." Not to digress again, but clearly, I will. This will be stream-of-consciousness. Ha! A way to make digressions not digressions, but essential, integral parts! There is NO MAS with the feeling guilty or beating up!

Yes, a Westlaw watter bottle as I was trying to come up with a fitting metaphor. To return to my digression, it reminded me of what I think is a scene from Ghostbusters Part II. The Ghostbusters are atop a tall building in a city and the ghost is ready to attack. The catch is that the ghost will take on the form of whatever they think of, so the nerdy, tall ghostbuster tells the rest to clear their minds of all thoughts. That way the ghost won't be able to get them and they can presumably carry on happily, albeit thoughtless, for the rest of their lives. All well and good, only the chubbier, shorter ghostbuster chokes under the pressure and thinks of the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow man. At least that showed some creativity on his part. I thought of my translucent, blue Westlaw water bottle. "Puke."

Although at this point I don't even think I need to get into what the Westlaw water bottle was going to be a metaphor for because I'm really done thinking about it, I will continue simply because I don't want to do legal research. Irony! Although if I did do the legal research I should, it would probably be on Westlaw, so it appears the marketing scheme worked on some level.

Here's the deal with the water bottle:

There it sits, on the floor in the lobby, in a cardboard box used to ship such promotional items. Kind of transparent and blue--looking fine, you know, for a water bottle. Sue's sitting at the table with the box at her feet, handing out candy and highlighters, shmoozing with law students, subliminally brainwashing them into using only Westlaw when they are making purchase decisions for their firms, years down the road. Students are more than slightly intrigued by the candy, and, yes, highlighters. Enough to go pick some up anyway. After all, free sugar and study aids are quite exciting in the day of your average law student. So the water bottles are there looking boring and cardboardy and kind of staticky with those thin pieces of styrofoam separating them in the box. Is it really worth doing a research training worksheet to get one? When I have things to do like...real legal research? Or legal research for a class anyway? Yes, I'll take a worksheet please, and Twix and highlighter and oh why not...a bag of m&ms. Who doesn't need a big metal pen with a separate lid and intermittent ink? Sweet! So a minute later, the water bottle is mine as well. Not just any water bottle. This particular drinking vessel is on the library's short list of containers suitable for use within its hallowed halls. You know you won't get hassled by the security guy at the door--not with this water bottle anyway! It's a nice choice for my drinking needs. Free, right? I don't have to risk being found out with say...a Starbucks cup or something worse, like food. Indeed, a good, solid, responsible choice. Certainly I'm not going to get any resistance with this blue beauty.

Yes, as of now, I may be feeling as boring and empty as the Westlaw water bottle. With "law" tattooed across my chest. My silhouette perhaps bearing a little too close a resemblance to the water bottle's at the moment. Maybe I even feel a little staticky. But...no mas.

No mas.

Nunca jamas.

I can live with a gimpy metaphor because this is where I begin. No more, never again. It starts here. And, overlooking the weak and telling metaphor to the new optimism, as a water bottle, I can fill up with something delicious, healthy and exotic. Something like Abacaxi Clight.