They Give Me...

Cat Scratch Fever.....

Hey Casper,

What was that song about anyway? I mean, I tried google-ing (or is it "googling") the song to find its meaning. The answers ranged from contracting an STD to an actual medical disease associated with getting a cat-scratch. Well, either way, the song was played at every high school sporting event. Basketball game? Yup. Football game? Yup. Hmm...maybe there is something to the STD, well, them and the high school sports scene.

Okay, that was inappropriate. I have nothing against the high school athletes that worked so hard to bring us home all those championships. Well, there weren't exactly championships, but I think we won one or two games. Look, we were a new school. We had new students and hundreds of new computers. Well, newish...they were free. Yeah, that teenage prison was a haven for learning on computers. From research to typing to powerpoint to all those online video game websites, we learned about it. What a silly place. Who cares? Why write about my high school? Well....

1/2 score less 1 week ago (10 years minus a week) I graduated from Century High School. GO JAGS! Wait, were we the jaguars? Technically we were, and you could find some Century Jaguar paraphernalia with the spotted jaguar and the ol' silver, black, and turquoise of the school. Of course, there were just as many paintings and representations of "black jaguars" (which are better known as panthers (think Bagheera from the Jungle Book)) all around the school. Just the same, we were the jaguars and we were proud. I suppose some of us still are, I mean, I am.

Honestly, I never felt that the school was a prison. Sure there were about 15 sets of doors that could lock the hallways from one direction so that potential escapees would simply be locked into the school. Of course the building was very square and very brick with a fenced in yard. And naturally the blinds covered the few windows available, at all times (if it was sunny, then there was too much glare on all of the classroom's computers; if it was not sunny, then there was no point). Basically, there were some resemblances; but it wasn't a prison. It was an opportunity for most of us to find other people who were like us, and then be friends with them. Of course, not everyone had the best time in high school. Heck, we may not have even had the best time. It was a great time, though. By golly, I know I wouldn't want to go anywhere else--my best friends come from that time, and I still love them.

That being said, I am sad that I won't be able to attend our 10 year reunion. Yes, yes, I could have gone. I'm in Brooklyn and could have purchased the flight back home for the weekend. Honestly, though, I didn't think it was worth it. If I lived in the area, I would definitely make the drive. It's being held at Helvetia Tavern. Then again, there aren't any tickets to buy, instead it's a buy your own food and drink kind of reunion. To be perfectly honest, it's mostly the fault of facebook. I can see what everyone is doing. Maybe not everyone, but anyone that I can actually remember, I can find out about. Rather, i have found out about, and know where they are, and where they are going. There are of course a few friends that don't use facebook. How is that possible, you say? Well, easy. They just don't do it. This may blow your mind, but there are still ways to know what's going on with them. We ... wait for it... wait...for...it.... We talk. On the phone. Over email. Skype even. I'm not saying that they don't use the internet, just no facebook. I'm still able to keep up with them, and lo and behold i don't have to go to the reunion to find out about them. This isn't a reunion from the 50s, where people joined the service, left home, and weren't seen or heard from again until the reunion.

Why not go? Like I said, I'm on the east coast. It's a hassle to fly home for a weekend. On top of that, it's not going to be a crazy party, with an open bar or free appetizers or living statues of half-naked men and women. Nope, just a good old fashioned facebook gathering. I barely go to facebook gatherings of people that are in my area. So when I see something along the lines of "hey Century Class of 2001 Grads, let's meet up at Helvetia Tavern for our reunion," then I think that not much time and effort was put into it. While I can appreciate someone definitely had to call and reserve some space, and had to fill out the facebook event page --then later the evite page-- I'm simply not super-inspired to go. I am curious. I wonder what everyone looks like. Do people look older? Do they have kids? Where do people live? Are people still really weird? Did anybody do anything exciting? ... Most of these questions have already been answered through facebook though, so you know, whatever.

On the other hand, if Helga could've gone with me, I definitely would go. It may seem silly, but I would totally show her off and be like, "remember that overweight kid in high school that did all that dorky stuff? Yeah, He's still a dork but has a super-smart, super-hot fiancée!"

Love

Law

PS. To my closest high school friends--the Feet Family, GPP, Double-A: I love you. You made my high school experience what it was, and you continue to enrich my life.

Let's get married....

Okay, So it's not May anymore. I'm sorry. It's definitely poor form on my part. Oh well, what're you going to do? PS. I love Al Green.

Maybe stop reading. I could understand that. Well, if you are still reading, then consider this May's entry, and I'll figure something better out for June. Who knows, maybe it won't be better in June.

In any case, I was supposed to tell you all about how Helga and I got engaged. Since it's been 2 months now, I'm sure anybody who is reading this, already knows. However, if you don't already know, then allow me the pleasure of pretending to have an ironclad memory and recounting even the mundane details for you.

Once upon a time, two law students were put together in the same doctrinal section (law school speak for "class"). Oh, right, we've covered most of the first year and a half. So beginning in November 2010, Helga started working on an article for her journal, a.k.a. her "comment." This thing was a monster and took up a significant amount of time and research for her, not to mention energy and brain power. In any case, this monstrous commitment was to end on March 27th, the comment's due date.

While she was going through this process, I was going through my own process: I had decided that Helga was the person whom I wanted to share the rest of my life with, and so was going to ask her to marry me. I needed a ring, and a plan.

Well, my initial plan was to wait for our August road trip along the west coast. We are going to try different wineries and just generally take our time. It should be very exciting. In any case, planning on asking then would give me lots of time...then it was simply a matter of finding the ring. I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted, a simple band, a simple (and small) stone, and something that looked simply amazing. Well, I found a couple of nice things online and thought that I would stop by the jewelers to check them out: you know, make sure that there were everything i had hoped for. Even having found the ring, getting it was another story. Apparently metal, gems, and putting it all together costs money. A. Lot. Of. Money. Well, I'm on a bit of a budget, what with the whole law school thing and all--so i asked the folks for help.

Well, there was some chance for borrowing, and some other ideas. Amongst the other ideas, the best was definitely the offer of a an engagement ring, that I could have. This ring came from my godfather, and was his late wife's ring (a.k.a. my godmother's ring/an important family memento). So, at first I wasn't sure about it. It was bigger and grander than anything that I had been looking at--but realized how important it is and how nice it would be to keep a ring in the family. So I was very thankful and graciously accepted the ring to offer to Helga. Now I had a ring but the plan seemed so far away. Here it is March, and I'm going to wait until August to ask her? Ugh. That sounds like forever and a day away right now.

So. Helga's working on her comment: it's turning into a 120 page article! Me? I can barely READ 120 pages, much less write them. Well, as impatient as I was growing, i couldn't interrupt this process. But I was growing impatient. So, I decided to go ahead and ask her the night her comment was due. So I asked her to an event, there was a cherry blossom ranger-led lantern walk around the tidal basin for that night. It started at 8 and her comment was due at 8. We'd be cutting it close, but it seemed cool. So I asked her if she would be able to finish a little early and give us some time to get down and go on this nice cherry blossom festival event dealie. She said she could probably finish a little early, and turn it in and everything. So I was pretty excited. This excitement then turned to anxiousness and concern that a walk wouldn't be enough. So I asked her to dinner, to our favorite 'us' restaurant, Le Chat Noir (translated: the black cat). She wasn't sure if she would have time, so we decided that it would be a wait and see sort of plan (for dinner).

Helga finished on Saturday, March 26th. She's a hard worker. In any case, we had time for dinner and for our stroll around the tidal basin. It was a very nice dinner. We had some fancy delicious stuff--yeah, it was french. She was still pretty exhausted from her comment writing (which means i was really glad that she finished on saturday, 'cause she would not have been excited if she had just finished that sunday). In any case, we were having a lovely time at dinner, and then made our way down to the tidal basin via metro.

The ranger-led cherry blossom walk was up next. Simple enough plan: walk around, listen to the ranger, admire the cherry blossoms, at the end of the walk, find a nice place, then...then...uh...ask her to marry me. Simple plan. Right? Sure.

As we're walking around listening to the ranger. I don't remember her name, but she was very knowledgeable. She knew tons about the DC cherry blossoms. She knew their history, she knew their biology, she knew their everything-that-I've-already-forgotten. So we were listening and walking and everything else. The ranger would stop and talk. While we were walking along, between stop-and-talks, I started to tell Helga my own story about growing up, about living in California, living in France, living in Japan, living in Oregon, and living in DC. I told her about a lot about traveling and looking around and finally....finally the cherry blossom tour was over. I wasn't done yet though. I did have a little bit of story left. I still had to get to DC, and find Helga in my story. So we stopped and found a bench. It was freezing. Okay, not freezing, but easily 40 or below. I was shivering from the cold and from nerves. As we were sitting on the bench, me telling her the story, her thinking that we were in danger seeing that it was 10:30, we were alone, and it was definitely dark and cold out. Well, I finished my story: while telling her that I'd finally found what I'd been searching for all across the world, I got down one one knee, and pulled the ring out of my pocket. Then I asked her to marry me (though I'm pretty sure she saw it coming for about the previous 5 hours). She very happily and excitedly said yes.

I couldn't be happier about it.

Thank you my love.