I can’t say the death of Michael Jackson affected me as much as it did my peers. I didn’t know him like they did. But I was touched when my friend A.L. wrote this tribute:
Michael Jackson is dead – I read it, I write it, and still it’s hard to believe. I am really, genuinely sad, as if I have known him, as if a friend just passed. But …you know… he WAS my friend. I grew up with him. He taught me in lyrics, compositions, dances. He comforted me through heartbreaks, and family fights and all kinds of other worries. He accompanied me – as so many others all over the world – through major stages of my life. And that is why so many, many people all over the world feel the way I do now- and can’t fathom that he is gone. Still, this is also a very personal sadness, and it is real. Continue reading
Part three of my interview with Godly Mathew [You can find Part I and Part II here.] Was this soft-spoken, self-described eccentric abused by Friends Hospital four years ago? Why does he stand at the Boulevard day after day, enduring the stares and scrutiny of passers-by?
Q: What are people’s reactions to your protest?
A: Most of the response is very positive. People give me a thumbs up or honk. I am very grateful for their show of support. It is one of the things that keeps me motivated and hopeful. Occasionally, someone laughs derisively or makes a vulgar remark but those are not as frequent as the positive ones.
Q: Have you ever contacted a lawyer or filed a suit?
A: Two years after the incident, I filed a civil case on my own in the federal court system. Apparently malpractice lawyers don’t want to go anywhere near a psych abuse case unless there is a gross degree of malpractice. I was also not interested in playing the role of the victim beyond what I suffered. So I filed the case pro se, but it was thrown out after Friends Hospital hired an attorney who made a motion to dismiss. I could not afford to pay a forensic psychiatrist for a Certificate of Merit which would have been required for me to re-file the case in the state court system. Two years is the statute of limitation, so that was pretty much the end of that path. Continue reading
There are roughly 50 some days before law school starts. And I admit to succumbing to more panic attacks as it approaches. I’ve been scanning forums and compilling lists of pre-law prep books that swear they’ll help me suceed in law school. But the panic continues. Every time this happens, I re-examine my motivations for studying law, and I calm down. But the process of waiting is still nerve-wracking.
I was thinking to write a post called “Ten Reasons I Chose Temple Law.” Then I read this fantastic post by Philly blogger/Phillyist contributor Joe Ross at his blog The Rotten Word titled “Why I Choose Temple Law.” And I realized he had written everything I wanted to say. And since he’s going to be working while studying, the post really hit home.
“I made the commitment to work and go to school at the same time. I want to be confident about it, even arrogant. But the truth is that it’s terrifying. After all, I might not be able to do it. Then what? I don’t know. But I know that it’s what I want, and people do it every day. People with more stressful jobs, people with children. There are really no excuses. Classes are technically from 6pm to 10pm. I’m going to be in danger of succumbing to my burgeoning caffeine addiction. I’m going to be in danger of burning out. I’m going to be in danger of driving the girlfriend (more) insane (than usual). Continue reading
Today is the last day of my vacation. Ever since I graduated from college two years ago, I have been working five to six days a week. It isn’t out of some sort of sadistic thrill, I suppose I could work less. But I like to stay busy. But for the month of June, I had a gap between jobs, and I found myself with four glorious Saturdays to spend in the city I love.
This isn’t something new. My family isn’t the type for vacations. As kids, I remember us bundled up in mini-vans and hustled to DC. Sometimes NYC. But we were mostly Philadelphians touristing in Philadelphia. I was the one always begging my siblings to take day-trips with me throughout Philadelphia. Alas, they weren’t as adventurous as I was. (Although there was one memorable trip where my little brother and sister and I ended up sneaking into City Hall on a Saturday, met John Street and got invited to a city luncheon. Another story.) Continue reading
Last Friday’s SEPTA Girl column…
SEPTA and dating do not always mix well. In fact, if you’re a female SEPTA rider, you may as well write off dating entirely. For one thing, waiting for the bus is not as glamorous as catching a cab. When you’re hailing a cab at the end of a date gone well, there’s a certain Carrie Bradshaw-like pose that is struck. A one-hand-on-your-hip, other hand showing-off-your-manicure pose. There’s the shifting of weight, to highlight the stilettos. A toss of the hair, or two. Whereas if you’re a SEPTA bus taker, you have that whole exhaust-in-your-face thing. Not always sexy. And as much as I love the homeless man who lives at the bus stop, his ramblings can stop a first-date conversation in its tracks.
The worst part of SEPTA dating is the awkwardness of the “Thanks, but no thanks, I’m taking SEPTA,” routine which usually doesn’t go down too well in the evenings. Men who have cars will insist on dropping you. Men who ride bikes will insist on taking SEPTA with you. (And men who let you go without a word…well, maybe you shouldn’t be dating those men.) This precipitates what very well may be the first of many arguments.”
Read the rest of the column at Phawker.