Crash Site

We all lived through September 11. I was here at the Capitol that day. I saw the evil of our enemies written in the smoke rising above the Pentagon.

--A D.C. local

I thought having my own personal tour guide on Memorial Day was cool. How about your own personal tour guide any time you want? Now, that’s cool.

Stephen and I met up today at 10 am at the Jefferson Memorial. We had a list of places to head and all this had to occur before I had to work. He updated me on his dating life and how work was going as we pedaled on the Mt. Vernon Trail. We stopped on the north side of Reagan National Airport and watched the planes fly, literally, right over our heads.

We chatted and avoided the plethora of runners. I was overly concerned that I had a flat tire. Alas! I did not.
We pedaled through Crystal City and over to the Air Force Memorial. As a daughter and sister to men in the Airforce, it was necessary. This memorial is certainly visible from many places in D.C.; however it is cool up close.

The upward pattern is apparently how jets break away when flying in pattern and the layout of the memorial is a landing strip. The memorial didn’t strike somberness in me in me as much as it forced me to marvel at all the technology, all the power, the sheer fact that we can get in big metal objects and can be across the ocean in a few hours. The fact that jets take off of aircraft carriers is amazing.

From there we stopped at the Pentagon. Stephen has a friend whom lost a loved one at the Pentagon crash site. I can only imagine how much different the experience is for him to visit the site than it was for me.

My life in September 2001 came crashing into my surreal summer. I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’ll explain the Memorial first and then talk about the crash site. For the two are different.

The Memorial lies in the path the jet took as it crashed into the Pentagon. There are 184 benches. The benches facing the Pentagon signify those who died on the plane. The benches facing the plane’s trajectory were the lives that were inside the Pentagon. A memorial of the literal collision. Each name is etched on the front of the bench and there is water under each bench. The benches are aligned in decades, youngest life to oldest, 3-71. It is literally a timeline of 184 untimely and unjust deaths. If there are names etched in the stone under the water, those lives were lost as well and were related to the person named on the bench. I saw an entire family etched. The ending of a lineage, right in front of my face.



The water trickles. The officer cleans the pebbles from the small pools of water beneath the benches. It is eerily quiet. It is validly somber. Everyone at this Memorial, at this time, lived through September 11, 2001 (except for a few kids, details, schemeatails). Everyone here has a different story. Everyone here finds something different in this place.



As I look towards the Pentagon, I see the line of demarcation in the Pentagon wall where it has been rebuilt. All of the sudden the Washington Monument takes on new meaning. What do you think that meant to those who had to restart the Monument and see the line where construction ceased during the Civil War? Death? Freedom? A lost loved one? A useless, unjust, cruel war? A new America? A different America? A reminder of how cruel and heartless the world can seem?

What did I find in that line? I found a tear in my eye. I found a solace for the 184 lives that are signified behind me. I found that line in my life. I found my 9/11 crash site. I turned back around to the Memorial and wandered around some more.

I found it odd, at first, that the ground was covered in small gravel. I originally thought grass would be a better option; however, upon reflection, gravel fits the bill. There is a garden surrounding the memorial and the gravel is a contrast to that. It is raw and shows how raw the wound is. The gravel displays how recently this occurred. How fresh this event is in our history. How there is a Memorial not for people who chose a life of service to this country but for people who were literally in the wrong place at the wrong time, and, lost it all.

I wandered around and thought about September 11, 2001. The fight I had with my then boyfriend. The fact that on that day our relationship was over; I knew it but in my youthfulness I hung on for another couple of months or so (I’m not really sure how long actually at this point). The reality of what a different person I am today than I was in 2001. The crash of 9/11/2001 Michelle and 9/11/2011 Michelle and how drastically different the two are. Or should I say, will be.

The fact that this Memorial signifies so much to me is incredible. In a hundred years, it will be just like Pearl Harbor. Somewhat of a tourist trap, clothed in honoring the fallen; however, Pearl Harbor was different to those that lived through it. The Pentagon is much different for me than it will be for those that follow in future generations. It will be another D.C. must see. But the gravity of the Memorial will be lost on the tours and trying to cram in all there is to see in the area. The weight of how this country changed because of that crash site will be lost as the stone fades on the Pentagon wall and meshes into a less contrasting color. The significance of this place will not be what it was to me, to our generation. For future generations, it will not be a gush of emotion, a flow of everything I experienced that day and in the following weeks. Only the lives that experienced that Day can have the replay of those hours recalled at a moment’s notice.

The Pentagon Memorial therefore is, to me, a crash site. A crash site of a plane, a loss of life, a loss of innocence, a new way of seeing the world, a new way of seeing the United States. A new way of seeing myself. I rose from the ashes of my September 11, 2001 crash site today, June 26, 2011 at the Pentagon Memorial.

 

The Pentagon Memorial therefore is, to me, a memorial. A memorial to Lives that did not choose to serve to this country, a memorial to people whom did not seek out a name etched in permanence in our Nation’s Capitol. A Memorial.

From there we pedaled to the Iwo Jima Memorial. And then had lunch at Deli Dhaba. I pedaled to work.

Worked.



Came home to this.

Hmmm, bad dogs.  Now, you have no breakfast. 


Make me a witness
take me out
out of darkness
out of doubt
I won't weigh you down
with good intention
won't make fire out of clay
or other inventions
will we burn in heaven
like we do down here
will the change come
while we're waiting
everyone is waiting
and when we're done
soul searching
as we carried the weight
and died for the cause
is misery
made beautiful
right before our eyes
will mercy be revealed
or blind us where we stand
will we burn in heaven
like we do down here
will the change come while we're waiting
everyone is waiting 


--Sarah McLachlan

Outside the frame

My ex-professor (in the kindest way possible JAM) posted this on facebook yesterday:

Is humbled by the kindness of others.

I, too, share in this humbleness. Thanks to my friend, Laura, the boys and I received this package of goodies on Friday. On a Friday that was the longest day for me and a Kate Middleton overdose was exactly what the doctor ordered.

I’m not sure what I did in this life, or a past one, to have such wonderful people in my life. Kind, generous, uplifting, encouraging people; most of whom I met while in wretched law school. Laura did not have to send me a care package, nor did Nikki have to listen to me bitch and moan about my petty problems with my internship, while I am having an epic summer, and she has much more on her plate that I. Nor did Holly have to listen to my winoisms about the Feld v. HSUS (Humane Society of the United States) oral argument that I attended at the D.C. District Court last week when I know she had a million other things to do. (By the way, you can check out a brief summary of what this case is about here. Thus far, and in MY (emphasis added) humble opinion, this line of cases is not going well on the animal welfare front.)

Appellate Advocacy. I saw an amazing oral argument. It truly was a conversation between the judge and the lawyer about the law. It was quite exciting. I saw some great lawyering. However, the whole slew of litigation seems to be wrought with bad lawerying. Issues raised at oral argument that were not raised in the 248 page, amended 4 times, brief. A REALLY, REALLY bad witness. The Honorable Judge Emmet Sullivan, who has been dealing with this string of litigation since 2000, being less than enthused with the animal advocacy corner. (Yes, you read that correctly. 2000. 11 years.) Litigation that appears as if it was just designed to drag the Circus through the Elephant poo. (After thought: this is not my opinion, only how it it seems.)

Don’t get me wrong here. I’m not crazy about circuses, or zoos for that matter, however, it does not help the Cause if we have a District Court Judge who seems to side with Feld Entertainment (AKA Ringling Brothers) and think the animal advocacy groups have an ongoing conspiracy. It does not help the cause to have allegations of fraud and embezzlement.

Again, in MY (emphasis added) humble opinion, Feld Entertainment has a case. I do not think Judge Sullivan will dismiss the case. However, I doubt that the Judge will rule on this until the decision he handed down in 2009 comes back from its appeal. So, we shall see.

Perhaps this blog has a longer life span than first imagined; I plan to stay updated on this case.

Oh, wait, back to being humbled by the kindness of others. The point is this, my friends. I know some amazing people. I hope that, my modest in size but grand in knowledge, spirituality, and experience, circle of life continues to enrich my journey. I somehow got lucky enough to have a relationship with some remarkable people. Please know that I hope to enrich your life as much as you have enriched mine.

In all that surrounds him the egotist sees only the frame of his own portrait.

--J. Petit-Senn

Cheers to what happens outside the frame of this blog. You, my friends, give my existence true depth.
Cheers to you, JAM.  You are an amazing professor.  Thanks for your encouragement.  *clink*

When all your love is gone
Who will save me
From all I'm up against out in this world
Maybe, maybe, maybe
You'll find something
That's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
You should turn yourself around
And come on home

--Matchbox Twenty

Here is Laura's care package and the boys enjoying it.

A day at the office. . .

I have not snapped a picture of Collin but I have gotten one of Wolfie.

Thanks to my great coworkers I pulled myself out of a minor slump. Between feeling like I had ran down a rabbit trail for 3 days on a project concerning the International Whaling Commission, and having my class rank emailed to me, I was less than excited about my life today. But Elissa encouraged me and on my bike ride home Pandora treated me like I was riding on a magic carpet and someone had planned out the music far in advance.

In all reality, I had little reason to be upset. It’s my own standards and motivations which I hold myself too. Not some crazy boss, or overbearing father. I’m not being battered and abused for pursuing a lofty goal. I’m not being beat down, emotionally, mentally, or professionally. I am not expected to know it all, nor be an expert. I am appreciated for what little I can contribute.

What I do on a daily basis may seem little, however, I was reminded today that some of the stuff I compile will be used at the International Whaling Commission Convention in a few weeks, or will be presented to world leaders, albeit with some major tweaking. The gravity of what I’m researching came crashing into my lap. As excited as I am to be here, to be starting an amazing career, to be clear in my motivations and goals, I have also become very aware that research that I am a part of may just make a difference to issues that matter. Issues that make me shudder in my core. Issues that seem to be hopeless all of the sudden have a glimmer of hope.

Those that seek out movements and causes choose this because they need to get “something” from their work. That something cannot necessarily be defined. But that “something” can easily be extinguished by a hateful, or cruel person, or by a person who lacks the capacity to grow. I am so grateful that my boss appreciates my input. My hope for my future is that I am surrounded by a group of people whom are just as positive and encouraging as my current coworkers.

I will be attending Oral Argument tomorrow for the RICO Ringling Brother’s case. I have not had a chance to read the opinion (Trevor, a fellow intern sent me the citation; maybe I’ll read that for fun here in a few minutes). It is a bit convoluted and I imagine it will be quite awhile before a decision is made but it’s still exciting to attend.

Also I still continue to work on wild horse and burro case law research. I have become quite interested in the Whaling Commission and all the issues that surround it so I find myself gravitating back to projects that focus on either wild horses or whales. Not exactly what I expected to happen but I’ll take it. Every day is a new journey. Every day is a new lesson. Every day is a reaffirmation that I have learned something, that I am growing, that I am in the right place.

After work I met an exhausted Sheena and Ryne for a dinner on the Mall. I was stoked to see a familiar face and enjoy some easy company. We had planned to catch the Marine Band on the Capitol steps but they were exhausted from being tourist, so we parted ways. Stephen and I ran into each other and we listened to the Marine Band for 40 minutes or so. It was quite invigorating to be listening to a band on the steps of the Capitol as the sunset in front of us. It was such an enjoyable experience. I found myself imagining the Mall at the different dates that the songs were written. (And since I have been on a tour or two, I know that at one point parts of the Mall were underwater, or swamp, or pasture). I found that I somehow blocked out the Frisbee tossers, and the Kickball Militia. Instead I saw horses and fancy dresses (oh, how I feel for those men and women walking around in the dreadful D.C. heat in those layers of dresses, or suits). I imagined the President riding a horse instead of being in a car. I imagined the many changes the Mall has experienced. I imagined the ever changing landscape of our Capitol.

I know I’ve said it but again, this journey is amazing. I work with some amazing people. I have made some amazing friends. I have some amazing experiences.

If you don’t want my fire then don’t come around


Ben Harper

The kindness of strangers

If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world.


Francis Bacon

Change. Change is good. Challenge is good. I’m not the same person I was two days ago, nor will I be the same in two days. I strive to grow. I strive to be more.

I’m upset with myself that I wished I had been another person in the past. If I had not been me, I wouldn’t be living this. Had I not been me, then I would not know challenge, I would not know adventures.

Even people in D.C. think I’m neat. I’m not another face to them, or maybe I am and they are playing me for a fool; however, the people I have met here have been genuine, and honest, and so helpful. Most of all, the people I have met here have been encouraging. They have been inspiring. They see hope in the future, which forces me to see the same hope. The hope that things change, that the future is mine to do as I wish. And to do as I wish, requires some judging eyes along the way, but those judging eyes hold no candle to my desire, to my drive, to my motivations to stand witness to a complete upheaval.



I met a professor-esque gentleman at the wine bar I visited this evening. He finds law school necessary. He found my motivations and goals admirable. He found my dogs to be the same amazing creatures as I know they are. He took time out of his day to encourage me. To tell me to continue, even when it sucks, even when I think I have nothing to give. To continue because I’m needed, no, wanted. And I wouldn’t be here, right now, on this journey if I was not to be part of some movement.



Movement. It’s funny. I joined my “notchurch” in Knoxville right before I left for D.C. And as I think about it, I didn’t join a church, as much as I joined a movement. I joined a group of people who question the world as much as I do. I joined a group of people who question the status quo, who want to know where their food comes from, or why you believe what you do. People who don’t judge. A group of people that may practice Judaism, Islam, Christianity, Paganism, Taoism, you name it someone practices it. Yet I’ve never been judged. I’m welcomed. And when it’s all said and done, no one ever agrees on any one thing, however, we all desire change that for the most part is similar; therefore, we work towards a goal.



So I push forward. Although I may have been discouraged and hopeless a few days ago, I see hope today. Thank you, Greg, fellow wine enthusiast, doglover.

The unreal is more powerful than the real, because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on.


Chuck Palahniuk 

Defining my mission

My life has changed. It’s been morphing for a few years; however, today I understood the full capacity of that change. Today I embraced my atmosphere, my company and today, I realized my life was on a path. A path with many stop signs, and “do not enter”s and “wrong way”s. Thank you, Universe, that I took the wrong way.


I have left a lot of people in my past. People that held me back; people that lacked spiritual capacity; people that amassed things, rather than experiences and relationships. I hold no contempt; however, I am glad that those people are in my past, for I could not continue with my future had I continued to surround myself with these people.


Blessed are those who are flexible. For they bend. Had I not been flexible I may not have been here. I may not have started law school. I may not have experienced this. A life that I made. A life that has a mission.

A life, that hopefully, changes another life. And that life, in turn, changes another. My path has been quite pastoral and I would have it no other way.

I finished a memo today. And I began work on wild horse and burro case law research. This case law research concerns wild horse and burro population, usually in western states.  The Bureau of Land Management sets a quota and rounds up the designated number of horses and burros.  The equines are subsequently auctioned off to "good homes," where they will be cared for and humanely treated.  I'm sure that some end up in homes like this, however, I'm sure some are sent to slaughter, or abused, and neglected.  (Because, let's face it here, these horses and burros are auctioned at extremely low prices, usually $100-$400 each). 

My main issue lies in the fact that these round-ups are usually prompted because cattle farmers have permits from the government to graze their herds on this land and clearly a couple hundred horses and burros pose a threat to the amount of grassland and water sources.  Furthermore, these roundups would be similar to herding a bunch of wild dogs, or coyotes and then auctioning them off as household pets.  These animals are not household, domesticated pets.  They are wild animals, that lived and thrived in the wild.  You may be able to teach an old dog new tricks but it's pretty damn tough to "train" the wild out of the animal. 

The horses and burros that are old, sick, or are not sold are either euthanized, or sent to other herd management areas.  But, these other areas are usually already full, therefore, the inevitable happens.

After work, I walked home with my boys in tow and then headed to the cinema for a free documentary. A documentary that I lived, as I sat there. If you are a horse fan, or an animal lover in general, check “Buck” out. It’s a great story of one man’s passion and commitment to horses. It’s a story of how humans fail horses, sometimes, and in turn create monsters.

We as humans fail animals--constantly, consistently. You have a heart for the dog in the animal shelter? You have barely scratched the surface. Dominion over animals has turned into cruelty, advantage, and profits. You care about a kitten on the street corner, what about millions of of pigs, cows, sheep, goats, turkeys, and chickens that are tortured? 97% of the animals in the country are killed in order to feed us.  And yet, still, we have people starving. We torture animals in mass quantities and have not addressed the fact that the earth is not feeding the majority of its inhabitants. We, as Americans, throw out more beef, chicken, and turkey than some countries see in year. And all this meat is subsidized. Our taxes pay for part of the farmer’s profit. Meat should not be as cheap as it is. And yet, we continue the process. We allow the continued cruelty in order for us to buy a 99¢ Big Mac, or double cheeseburger, or big, beefy burrito crunch.

I love animals, but I also love my fellow human. The human has failed the animals we were supposed to protect. The human has failed his fellow man. The human has failed, as far as I see it, the human is self-indulgent, self-absorbed, and unable to change.

**I did not address the exact means of torture and abuse in factory farming and what atrocities occur in CAFOs because I am aware that a few of my followers don't want to hear the gory details.  I do not want to polarize the issue, nor sound like a zealot.  I stive to be an advocate.  I strive to have a dialog about these issues.  If you care to know more, please email me, or phone me.  I will happily discuss the myriad issues that surround the continued government sanctioned torture of animals for food.**

By the way I'm headed to this today.

When the poo flies. . .

I woke up bitter this morning. I’m not really sure why. Maybe it was a mix of paying bills on a house I don’t live in, while I’m paying a pretty penny for modest accommodations in D.C. Maybe I have settled in and its just a case of the “Mondays.” Maybe it was that I miss my mountain bike terribly and have been resisting the urge to take the clown bike off road. Either way I was bland and just putting myself through the motions.


My mood was lifted a bit upon realizing that it was the most perfect D.C. morning. The sun was glistening perfectly from behind the clouds. The temperature was a perfect 70 degrees with a slight breeze. In an instant, my walk to work was starting to look up. However, upon Strauss taking his morning poo, my case of the “Mondays” came roaring back into my reality. As I obediently cleaned up his lovepile and tied the bag in a knot, my brute strength ripped the bag in half.

Poo went up, and subsequently came down. The shit did not hit the fan, instead it splattered across the sidewalk and my bare feet. My first thought was “well, golly, I hope I have another bag in my backpack because I would hate to leave poo on the sidewalk.” As I fished for another baggie, I looked down to find the bulk of Strauss’s poo all over the front of my dress. Yes, the front of my dress. Good thing I was not supposed to “dress smart” today, as I literally had shit on.

I looked down the road in the direction of my house and quickly decided it was not worth the time to walk back and change. Therefore, I marched on. I did a quick inventory of my life and plastered a smile on my face, as I was determined to focus on how gorgeous of a day it was. I marched through all the SuitsandTies, and business suits, and FancyHeels with my poo stained summer dress. Upon arrival at my office, I quickly washed my hands and tried to clean up the front of my dress as much as possible.

I did a quick mental inventory and thought, “of the all the places to have dog poo on your dress, the Animal Welfare Institute would be the ideal one.” My case of the “Mondays” seemed to be diminishing.

I began working on a Memoranda of Law for my boss. I had told him that I started on it Friday but it took me a weekend of thinking over the subject matter to really figure out how to approach the topic. It concerns an extremely complex area of law (for me anyway). The more I wrote the more I found myself asking another question; therefore, doing more legal research. What I expected to finish today by noon is still incomplete and with a few more questions to answer. However, I have enjoyed writing it and loved the fact that I was able to see the holes and try to find an answer.

I have researched committee and subcommittee reports. Read the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972, as well as all of its amendments. I have actually learned how to use Lexis, efficiently and effectively. (It only took me two years!) I can actually see why legislative intent matters. There is so much that is to be read in between the lines, so many unseen forces, motives, expectations, none of which can be adequately portrayed in the actual words of the statute.

None of my research thus far has produced the answer I was hoping for; however, I have learned so much in the process that I’ll put a tally mark in the win column for myself, and a tally mark in the loss column for the cause, at the moment anyway. But alas, there is tomorrow, mayhaps I will stumble across something that will illuminate some loophole that I have not thought of yet. With the law, the possibilities are endless.

My case of the “Mondays” did not last all day and although I was hoping to have the memo finished, my replay of the day seems mighty productive.

I even forgot that I had poo on the front of my dress until a gentleman at the dog park tonight at 8 pm pointed out the “stain” I had on the front of my dress. I thanked him for letting me know, stating that “I must have missed that when I walked out of the house this morning.” I laughed on the inside and went back to my modest row house and watched the sunset behind the other row houses with a glass of wine and two happy dogs. Outside of a Robin by my side, I could not have been more content.

“Health is the greatest possession. Contentment is the greatest treasure. Confidence is the greatest friend. Non-being is the greatest joy.” --Lao Tzu

Spiritual beings on a human journey

I envy you people. You people, whom can drive your car 7 miles away and arrive in 10 minutes. You people who make it to work without your make-up melting off your face, and your SmartSuit soaking wet from a short 10 minute walk in the D.C. heat. You people who don’t have to wait for a train, that is delayed, and then, once on said train, wait, sitting still, in a hot car because the A/C went out and the track cracked in the heat. And then to wait 20 minutes for the second train, which is still late. And all this to arrive home at 1:17 am, after you got up at 5:30 am to walk your dogs, commute to a job that makes your heart sing, but you work for free. A job you have to leave early to go to work, which requires you to put on a smiley face and kiss ass.


Staying in a 10 mile radius of my home yet spending 2 hours to commute, sometimes, is building quite the patient and humbleness streak in me. The fact that the moment I put on my SmartSuit I start sweating, and don’t stop until I get into the shower in the evening, is the most annoying thing. There is no relief that comes when the car A/C kicks on and blows that crisp, cold air in your face, as there is no car, only a bus, or a “hot box” of a train . The relief I find myself looking for is a shady spot along the sidewalk.

I was randomly searched while awaiting the Metro yesterday. The realities of a Post 9/11 Society. It took me by surprise to be asked if he could have my purse and backpack. Of course I obliged; however, it sent me into a monumental personal liberties tailspin. Had I not been exhausted from the 18 hour day I may not have consented. Had I not been so thankful for the Metro police, as well as the D.C. police, on a dark street, or a lonely Metro station late at night, I might not have consented. But the reality is, I gave up one of my rights. One of my rights in which I cried over just a few weeks ago. I gave up a personal liberty. And I’m not sure if it was given up in the name of terrorism, or because I’m in the Nation’s Capitol, therefore, subjected to higher security because “important” people use the same methods to commute as a lone, animal advocate, dreamer, server, dog lover.

We are spiritual beings on a human journey.

Jon Stewart had an author on his show the other day. He was a former “Seal Team Six” member whom has now authored a book. He talked about survivor’s guilt. He talked, very rationally, about how he struggled with being alive after so many great men and women are no longer with us. How it ruined his marriage. How he didn’t know it existed until a new partner came into his life. This made me think about two things.

1) Our veterans get screwed. But we all know this.

2) How I have struggled with my own motivations to help animals, to promote animal welfare. Because I look in the mirror every morning and realize there are as many causes as there are stars. That I have considered adoption because of the all the unwanted, under privileged children in our country and abroad. See, you don’t have a heart that cares only for animals; you don’t have a heart that sees the horrible realities in the world in one light; you don’t have a heart that bleeds for one singular mission. Instead you have a heart that hurts for it all. A heart that desires vast, drastic sweeping change in all facets of life; however, you also have a head. A head that makes a choice, a head that sees the hypocrisy of some of your own actions. A head that convinces your heart that it’s worth it. A head that says “this is your niche, Michelle, you can do ‘something’ in this area.” Because if you see all the anger, and hatred, and nasty things in the world and don’t pick a single avenue, you’ll just turn into an alcoholic writer. A dreamer that can only dream, rather than act. So for all those people that have said, or thought, “what about the children that are dying and starving and killed? We know they have brains, and they can tell us how they feel and suffer, unlike animals, whom we can only speculate as to their feelings.” Those lives are not lost on this soul; those lives are meditated on, but I chose my avenue, and others have chosen theirs. We are spiritual beings on a human journey; a journey to be happy, to grow, to learn, to help, to leave this world better than we found it. My avenue is animals.



A bill was introduced in Senate this week to ban horse slaughter in the United States. While I did not work directly on this project, it came from my office.

As a wildlife intern, I read the complaint filed this week by the Humane Society of the United States against the National Marine Fisheries Service. The complaint concerns the killing of the protected Sea Lions that migrate to the Columbia River in Washington State. The killing was approved because the Sea Lion pose a “threat” to the Salmon population. The irony is that the Sea Lion eat .04-4.2 % of the Salmon population, fisherman take, or to harass, harm, pursue, hunt, shoot, wound, kill, trap, capture, or collect, or to attempt to engage in any such conduct,  16 U.S.C.A. § 1532,  17%, birds take 18%, and dams take a whopping 59% of the same 80,000-280,000 Salmon population. The NMFS authorized the killing and set a quota of 85 Sea Lions to be shot. (Many had already been ‘approved’, as some of the Sea Lions are tagged or easily distinguishable by markings, or personality.)

If you have never seen a Sea Lion they are a water “hound dog;” they lounge around, play around in the water for a few and then lay around some more. Big threat to the dwindling Salmon population, eh?

Ok, so the cool part. I get to sit in on this hearing next week. Yup! The complaint seeks declaratory and injunctive relief and has two residents of the area listed as Plaintiffs, along with the Wild Fish Conservancy. I need to do more research on the topic prior to the hearing but I’m excited to attend my first hearing.

In other news, my research on coyote penning statutes has been quite challenging. 50 states = 50 different legal jargon for a fox, coyote, or wolf; 50 different legal jargon for an enclosure. Time consuming: YES; interesting: YES. I have started to find myself falling into it pretty easily and not struggling as much as my first day. I have also found that my legal mind is growing, as I’m finding loopholes in the law that may or may not work in our favor. I’m finding where the laws need, or could be, developed.

Update on reptile and amphibian imports: I tweaked spreadsheet that we have been working on and found that in 2006 7.1 million reptiles and amphibians were imported into the U.S; in 2007 6.5 million; 2008 6.2 million; 2009 2.8 million; and 2010 2.5 million. I’ll be interested to research and see what caused that dramatic decrease.


To your journey.  *clink*

A testimony

This blog is a testimony to my Spirit. To my Passion. To my Desire to be a person whom does something good on this earth. To honor Mother Earth and Father Time.


And in the process of what I assumed would be 10 followers, mostly of family, or close friends, I’ve found that people actually want to read what I have to say. People I know, or don’t know, people who find me creative, my story intriguing. Cheers to you!

To all those people: THANK YOU. I treasure the time that I write. I treasure the diary that I am creating. However, I treasure those that read it, I treasure the emails, comments, facebook messages, and texts that tell me how much “you” are enjoying it, or that my writing inspired you, or that it encouraged you.

It’s a completely unintended, but ever so welcomed side effect.

Just listen.

Humans sniff butts too

The friendship of a dog is precious. It becomes even more so when one is so far removed from home.... I have a Scottie. In him I find consolation and diversion... he is the "one person" to whom I can talk without the conversation coming back to war.


Dwight D. Eisenhower

The dog park is a great place. Even when it’s a sweltering 97 degrees. The mesh of people and happy dogs makes my heart sing. The ease of conversation with the fellow man about your best friend and his friend, Fido. And how the “Fidos” become best buds after a short butt sniff. The magic of the moment is when you realize that you, too, have made a bud after a similar short ‘butt sniffing,’ of sorts, with your fellow man. Albeit our ‘butt sniffing’ consists of at least three consecutive visits to the dog park and the normal isolated corner of the park, until the moment you are invited in. Into the dog park circle, the circle of fellow dog lovers whom take time out the day to ensure that the pooches get some exercise and social time.

Tonight I was invited in. Literally yelled at from across the park, and told that “I can throw the Frisbee from where they are at.” Apparently one gentleman had recognized me, no, now be lets be serious here. He recognized the Great White Gandalf and his socially awkward doggie greeting, and the Black Dog with the cotton ball tail, whom only wants to catch the Frisbee.

For those of you that frequent the same dog parks, this should be par for the course. And I love it. For those that don’t, you should try it. This interesting conglomerate of people who gather to let their treasured friend play. The mass of big hearts that feel they owe at least an hour to their lovely dogs, which dutifully sit by our sides at the office, or nap under the desk, or stare out the window at home awaiting our return. The mass of face licking, get dirty, spray some water on the hot dogs (and hot people) and genuinely enjoy a little social time, social time completely centered around Man’s Best Friend.

Upon the recognition that we had a few dogs who were “too hot” on our hands, the “dog park crew” dispersed and parted ways. Back to our row house, or apartment, or studio. Back to pour a bowl full of ice water and tuck our dearly beloved best friend in for the night (most of whom probably chose the tile floor for the coolness on the belly).

All that just to say that Strauss and Gandalf officially have D.C. friends, now if only I could find one, or two . . .

Today I went in early, and then left late from AWI. And I enjoyed every minute of it. I started on some case law research about Wild horse and burro populations and round-ups. I spent the majority of my day on the same treaty as yesterday. As it stands today, my projects are as follows:

• Wild horse and burro case law research

• Coyote, fox, and wolf penning statute compilation and comparison from all 50 states

• Treaty analysis

• International Whaling Commission and International Maritime Organization structure review and update

• Brief on domestic courts’ interpretation of a treaty

And as it stands today, I find myself making to-do lists not because I have to, but because I want to. To ensure that I get to a project. I set my timer on my phone and unless I’m so deep into a topic that I can’t get out, I switch. Reason #1 that I switch: fresh eyes. I see the topic anew and usually see something different. Reason #2: I work more efficiently if I switch tasks after a few hours. Reason #3: I am anxious and want to see a little of it all. Reason #4: the dog has to go out.

When I am so lucky to get paid to do this, it just may be The Best Day.

Tomorrow will be too hot to take the dogs to work. 102 is a bit much to ask them to walk to the office, plus Momma’s gotta pay the bills, yo. So I’ll work for free and love it tomorrow during the day, and work for the dolla bills tomorrow night and probably drudge through it.

The average dog has one request to all humankind. Love me.
Helen Exley

My challenge to you: Love. Love life. Love people. Love the earth. Love.

The Nebulous Middle

It’s official. The Sanders-Fiore dogs are working dogs. They both made it through a day at the office. Gandalf’s day was a bit easier than Strauss’s; however, I correlate that to Gandalf being carefree and Strauss, well, being worried, constantly, about me. Not every area of the building is dog friendly so prior to my office change; I was in a different office from Gandalf or Strauss. As reported by co-workers Gandalf didn’t care, AT ALL. He slept. Strauss on the other hand, he whined and carried his jollyball back and forth between Mariko and Alessa. All in all, they both are extremely well mannered and being in this city has made it very clear to me that as much as I think they are douches, my dogs are actually pretty damn good dogs.


Yesterday, I officially took on my projects for the summer. For the most part, I can discuss them. If you ask me questions and I don’t answer you or am vague, move on. I can’t talk about it. It’s a bit peculiar to think I am involved in things I cannot discuss.

My experience here is nothing short of amazing. I find myself waking up earlier than normal, as in before 6 am. I find that I am refreshed and reinvigorated for my life. I find that I am very clear in my decisions. I find that I am pretty damn happy with who I am. I find that I just may have finally figured out that the dreadful experience of law school has made my life exponentially better. I have found that I’m not a lost soul searching, that perhaps, I just may have found my “thing.”

I walk to work and enjoy the fact that my dog trots along beside me. That the Capitol is where I head. That I am learning so much in such small amount of time. That I have come to terms with so much about my life in the past year. I enjoy that I am at home in my own skin.

In other news, my law school posted the Dean’s List today. (For those reading who are students, faculty, or staff, please take no offense about what is coming.) I read the list, knowing that I would not see my name, and it made me sick - - for a moment. And. Then. I remembered that this year was tough. This year, my world was put into a shoebox, given a good toss and then turned upside down. Dean’s List, schmean’s list. I am ever so happy that I survived this past academic year; that I came out of it with an internship in D.C; that I learned what I did from a spectacular Judge in Tennessee. That I am still sane. That I know that a number or a grade does not determine who I am. That I am aware if my grade does not fall into a certain category does not mean that I can’t make a difference or continue with my dreams. That the grade does not mar my ability, nor my self worth.

See, folks, in law school there is this thing. My dear friend, the Scientist’s Wife, coined the term with exact precision. The Nebulous Middle. Maybe it’s all those years with the Scientist. Leave it to the Scientist’s Wife to coin some phrase that I would have to “Google that shit” to make sure I knew what "nebulous" really meant.

The Nebulous Middle. If one is not at the top of the grade range, or the drastic bottom, for the most part that person is just left to figure things out. Unless you walk into the law school gushing blood from your wrists, and neck, where you slit them, with the vein rather than across, with a rusty razor blade (because that’s all you could afford), you are not getting much emotional, psychological, or moral support. And Mother, you saying “you’ll do fine. It will be ok” does not cut it in law school. Unless you have experienced it, you can’t understand. I honor the partners to law students. They tolerate our irrational, case obsessed, socially awkward, I’m-moving-away-for-the-summer, crazy ass law student behavior. I can’t speak for everyone but I know that Robin and I have grown because of this experience. See not everything in law school sucks.

So, here I am, in the Nebulous Middle with a kick ass internship doing the damn thing in D.C. I’m doing the damn thing with two dogs, and high hopes for the future. High hopes that things I help put in motion will change the world as we know it.

The Nebulous Middle ain’t so bad when you spend the day drafting documents that state and world leaders will read. Documents that affect whales, and sharks, and wild burros, and foxes, and coyotes. Or researching how the Bureau of Land Management does such a poor job of actually managing the land and its resources.

Alas, I learned more from actually having to use my head and be creative than just knowing where to go. Because while in law school you learn a lot and may think you know it all, in the practical world, you don’t know shit. And when it comes down to it, I got more done today than a fellow at GW (George Washington Law School), who is on the Dean’s List. I’ll stay right where I’m at – the Nebulous Middle.

Why protest when you can get a tour for free?

So I saw my reflection in the Metro today, for a moment I loved who I saw, and for a moment I hated who I saw.


I love that I am here. That I got here on my own. That I figured this out.

I hate that in my natural state, I wear a frown. Thanks, Sanders genes. I wear it because it’s part of my DNA, not because I choose to.

And then this song came on. I came alive. I relived my whole day. I am so lucky. I am so grateful. I am stoked.

I took a bicycle tour of D.C. today. Two Park Rangers led it. Due to a “protest” at the Jefferson Memorial (see this), there was a small turnout for the bike tour. And by small I mean, me. Yup, two park rangers and myself. I got the executive tour! Nikki and Tim were great.

Side note: The protesters had no idea of the case they were protesting or the section of the CFR (Code of Federal Regulations), which is the mandate the case covered. As a dutiful law student I looked up the code; it’s Section 36. And it states that the interior of any Memorial, while a public place, is a restricted space. Restricted meaning it’s sacred. It’s the same as a church, or synagogue, or Arlington Cemetery. It’s not the place to dance. Dance on the stairs, dance on the lawn, just don’t dance in the actual Memorial. You don’t see people dancing at the Vietnam Wall, do you? There is something sacred about the place. (Tim and Nikki informed me that this is the reason that protests are always outside a Memorial. Reference MLK’s “I have a dream” speech, on what?  The stairs of the Lincoln Memorial.  Not in it.) See people you can protest, just not in what is viewed as the tomb of Jefferson.

Back to the bike tour, we rode over to the Watergate steps. Tim told me about the original architect of D.C. and where he is buried and how there used to be Symphony performances until Reagan Airport was put in and now the aeroplane noise is too much. (FYI Minute number 9 of above mentioned MLK speech, he pauses – for a plane coming in for a landing overhead).

Tim and Nikki gave me the tour of the unknown or overlooked memorials. We had a blast. Tim is from St. Simons, GA; Nikki is from Arkansas and was in the Peace Corp prior to being a Park Ranger. From there we went to Constitution Gardens. I mentioned this in a previous post. This area had been used for offices during WWI and WWII since the Department of the War had grown so large. These “temporary” buildings were torn down around 1974 and the Gardens were installed in honor of the Bicentennial in 1976. (FYI MLK Memorial will be opening in August, maybe I can sneak a peek before I leave since Tim gave me the inside info that they are apparently ahead on the construction.)

We rode to the German-American Friendship Garden next. If you have been to D.C. and visited the National Mall, I guarantee you walked through it and didn’t even know. Tim and Nikki showed me a bullet hole in the Washington Monument. From there we biked down the middle bike lane of Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol.

Tim and Nikki made a dynamic duo! We visited where Garfield had been shot, although he died from poor medicinal practices and not actually the gun shot. Then we went to Columbus Circle, well, Crescent, since Union Station took the other half of the Circle.

I did, and learned, all this for free. Actually, I should have tipped them. Golly, why didn’t I think of that when I was there.

This should conclude my sightseeing adventures.  It's real life now and work comes early on Monday mornings.

My salvation lies in your love

If I told you things I did before
told you how I used to be
would you go along with someone like me
if you knew my story word for word
had all of my history
would you go along with someone like me

I did before and had my share
it didn't lead nowhere
I would go along with someone like you
it doesn't matter what you did
who you were hanging with
we could stick around and see this night through
                         -Pete, Bjorn, and John "Young Folks"



Animals. They have been the ongoing theme of my life. They are the reason I’m here. And in this process I have my boys, Strauss and Gandalf. I’ve watched them closely, been a little too over protective, freaked out over little things that are no big deal. However, they go about their day as normal as if we were on Armstrong Avenue in Knoxville. We, as humanity, should embrace the dog mentality, or for that matter the animal mentality.



My boys were loaded up in a car 2 weeks ago and driven to a strange house, and for the first few days were somewhat abandoned, as I took on Museum Marathon. And outside of the infamous Conrad sand eating incident they act as if nothing has changed. They act as if this has been their home from Day One.


Conrad is my landlord and lady’s two year old son. Conrad has, well had, a special synthetic sand that he plays, played, with. I noticed that both Strauss and Gandalf had some interesting shit. It reminded me of the “play dough” stuff that Nickelodeon came out with when I was a kid. I think it was called Floam. Apparently Gandalf found the container and chewed his way into it. And in true brotherly fashion both boys feasted. For 2 days I had dog poo that looked like this.

The versatility and genuine care and adoration they show me is amazing. Strauss and Gandalf know that I won’t lead them astray, and in return Strauss acts as my own person guard. Gandalf acts as an ambassador. Although they are 488 miles away from “home,” they are right at home.

It doesn’t matter what you did. We could stick around and see this night through. My boys. My life. I pray I have some fraction of the compassion and versatility of dogs. I pray that I can look at every morning as they do, with a wagging tail, and an excitement to just go sniff the grass.

Cheers.

By they way, read "Dog Years" by Mark Doty.  It's great.  Holly, you have copy coming in the mail.

Crocs, Frogs, and Turtles, oh my!

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I was feeling frisky, so I left the Melting Pot and decided to bike to the bus stop and then ride the bus the rest of the way home.  Upon arrival at Faragut Square, I was shocked at the traffic, so I pedaled on, straight up Rhode Island, all the way to my back door.  8.2 miles on my clown bike.  (See above for my route.)  Yeah, boy.  I'm not sure if I'm fearless or just plain crazy.  Either way, when I get back to Knoxville I just may park the car and walk and ride my bike everywhere; there really is no need for me to drive on a daily basis. 

Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.  --Maria Robinson

Intern Day 2 did not dissapoint.  I tied up a few loose ends from the Frog Leg project from yesterday.  After a brief phone call with my boss, DJ, I had four projects in my lap.  Three of which are small and ongoing; the other being Excel spreadsheets of all Reptiles and Amphibians that are imported into the United States (the data is from 2006-present).  There is massive amounts of information.  And the more I drill down into it, the more I never want to buy anything made from any animal again. 

Since this project is focused on Reptiles and Amphibians, my stance is a bit different than products that are derived from mammals.  And here is why: in 2010 the US imported over 1 million specimens for use in commercial industries alone (therefore educational and scientific purposes are not addressed here).  Commercial uses are anything from Alligator skin for your boots to frog legs to eat for dinner and everything in between.  Now, the most astounding part of all this data: the VAST majority of these specimens are captured in the wild, and either killed and shipped to the US, or shipped alive.  Did you hear me?  They are captured from the wild, thus depleting the numbers of frogs who eat the mosquito popluation, or further endangering alligator, or crocdile popluations.  And I'm jumping to some conclusions on this one, I highly dougbt the indigenous population financially benefited from the capture of these animals.  Instead they will see an  increase in the pest population. 

So whom is importing all these alligators, crocodiles, and the like.  Chanel, Jimmy Choo, Prada, a few museums.  Yeah, people, the US is importing wild animals, pulled from their natural habitat, so that we can prance around in overpriced heels.  Overpriced heels which get discarded as the season rolls out, and we move onto the next trend.  I was aware of this; however, I was not aware of the large numbers in which we import for fashion.  And the fact that these animals are not farmed, but instead are captured from the wild, sometimes in areas that should be protected, and sometimes the animals that are captured are close to extinction.  /End Rant.

Second project assigment deals with the the International Maritime Organization and some issues involving the pristine waters and ecosystems surrounding the Artic, both North and South.  I "grew legally" with this project and plan on spending most of the day tomorrow on this one.  Hopefully my updates on this one are positive since this has strong ties to the Whaling Industry.

Thrid project assignment deals with a popular website.  All I want to get across here is that wild animals are not pets.  The exotic pet trade is rampant.  "Caged killings" are rampant.  (Caged killings are animals that are pulled from the wild and placed in a small confined area.  The highest bidder gets to walk up to the cage and kill the animal.  Then they can hang the bust on their wall as a trophy.) 

Just because we, as humans, are at the top of the food change does not allow us to to exercise unwielding and complete control over all life that we deem as being below us.  All life is worth honoring.  All of life works together in a cycle.  Care and compassion should be exercised abundantly.  Human's dominion over the animals is not a complete power to control and do as we so wish.  Dominion means we have a sphere of influence; influence that should be used to make the world a better place, not exploit animal, and in turn, human lives. 

Maybe we can start a new day and head down a road towards a new ending.  A new ending full of compassion, love, and respect.  Not an ending that culminates in suffering and exploitation of not only our animal life, but also our fellow man.

Frog legs anyone?

Today I started at AWI, or the Animal Welfare Institute.  I am very priviledged to have my own phone number, email address, and desk.  Opposite to how I expected intern life to be, I am not locked away in some dark closet.  Nor am I not allowed to speak.  In fact, my boss, DJ, encourages my input.  I was actually asked to edit his article, since I was a pair of fresh eyes. 

This experience is amazing.  Gandolf and I walked to the office.  It was a nice morning, a little hot, but in my current blissful state, any temperature seems to be just right.  Trevor, one of the farm animal interns, and I chatted for a few minutes this morning, and as soon as my computer got set up, and a brief phone call with DJ, I was good to go. 

By the way, on any given day there are at least four dogs in the building, and a bird named Horatio.  Gandolf had the pleasure of working, err, snoozing with Collin and Wolfie today.  I had the pleasure of learning about and compiling data concerning the import of reptiles and amphibians into the United States. 

Most of today was spent on frogs, actually.  Any species of frog you can imagine.  Most of these frogs are acquired in Indonesia, usually captured from the wild and then shipped to the EU and the USA for use as a food product, or as an exotic pet.  The sad part about all this research was the effect that removing a native species in bulk from it's habitat.  The effect it has on the local, usually poor, native human and wildlife population is horrific.

My exact title is Wildlife Intern.  Therefore, I will be working on aspects of the law that deal more with animals in the wild, rather than Fluffy, our household pet, or the bovine, whom is destined for your grill in a few weeks. 

The particular project today was eye-opening, I had not the slightest clue that frog legs were so popular or that frogs were imported INTO the United States in such large quantities.  The most disturbing aspect of my work today was the toll that frog exportation takes on the local environment and local people.

After a brief fight with Microsoft Excel (Picture this), I had an epiphany.  Gandolf is in the other room; I'll take a break.  I went in the other office and snuggled with not one, not two, but three lovely canines.  They were happy to cuddle and play with me, and I totally forgot how frustrated I had been.  My wish for today is that my friends Holly and Laura get to experience this feeling one day.  The experience of being absolutely frustrated, but also working where your dog can console you, where you can get a lick on the cheek, and a doggie breath, paw hug to totally forget whatever bullshit was going on at your desk. 

I returned to my desk with a fully refreshed mind.  Excel, magically, started doing as it was told.  Blood pressure had been lowered; this was adverted.  And all because of dog breath. 

The rest of the afternoon went off without a hitch.  Gandolf and I walked back home.  I contemplated what I had learned in one day, and can only imagine what I will be taught in 30 days, much less 60 days.

All of the sudden my summer seems really short.  Almost as if there is not enough time to soak up all the goodness that I can.  To soak up all the knowledge that I can from a great group of forward thinking, compassionate, motivated people. 

All those intern horror stories, yeah, I highly doubt that will be my experience because even if the "people" don't like me, their dogs, and bird, always will.