Skuzzy J.D.

Our secret

2011-03-29T17:45:00.001-04:00

5gHello. Here's the deal...I'm ready for a change. Here's that girl I was telling you about. http://bit.ly/gn8SEg c 8

7 Our secret ;)4

2011-03-19T09:13:00.001-04:00

1gThis. Is. Amazing. You're going to love me for this. Here's that girl I was telling you about. http://bit.ly/eo3Bb6 5o 6

Goodbye Tribunal

2005-08-12T13:35:00.000-04:00

Today was the last day of my summer externship. I did my 170 hours, copied all my work product (I thought the pile would be larger), gave people forms for evaluating me, asked for a couple letters of recommendation ("write one and I'll sign it"--not a fan of that), finished my last assignments, and said some goodbyes. Half the office was gone, including people I really wanted to say a proper goodbye to, like Cindy and Kathie and several of the judges, and even Jack (with whom I was supposed to do an exit interview, but he never was there at our scheduled times--oh well). But Micheal was there, and so were Tony and Amanda and Marijo.

I was determined that today would go well, because I have this history of ending jobs badly, and for unusual reasons. At my last job, I injured my foot pretty severely the day before my last day and filed a worker's compensation claim for x-rays. The associate director failed to realize that this was routine and in no way opened up him or the office to liability, and gave me a huge hassle about signing the papers. This shouldn't have surprised me, since he disliked me from almost day one. I'll never forget the time that we were the only ones in the office, and he came back to where I worked and , laughing, said he had this strange urge to stick a pencil in my ear. O-kkkkaaayy. [I, of course, quickly scanned the room for any number twos.] So when the worker's comp thing arose, he ended up--seriously--yelling at me. After about an hour of him griping at me off and on, I got ticked (it takes a lot to get me ticked), calmly went back to my office, deleted everything I'd ever worked on (a lot) from the office hard drive and shredding all hard copies of it and walked out without saying a word. Luckily everyone else there liked me, including the director, and I found out that Mr. Psycho got fired a month later. Another time my last article during my stint as a school reporter--an entertainment piece on the globalization conference going on regarding China that was hosted in part by the university--was responded to with a vicious three page letter to the editor about the dangers of globalization and how benign and idiotic my article was. Along with some choice phrases about me, too. Of course, it got published--the editors even reduced the font size to fit it all on one page. I won't even tell the story about how I was fired by a priest once. It seems that I manage to rub one person the wrong way everywhere I work. Maybe this is just normal...

At the Tribunal, things should have been different. There were only two people I didn't click with, but they were easy to avoid. All I had to do, I figured, was get everything done, stay around the right people, and it would be fine. This time, though, the problem was all my fault. First of all, I should preface all this by explaining that I have a seizure disorder. I'm on medication for it which controls everything pretty well, but some days I just feel awful. Today was one of those days; hence, the phoning-it-in attitude. I was basically watching the clock all morning, waiting for twelve o-clock when I'd do my best to drive home and then try to sleep off how weird I was feeling. So Micheal (that is the correct spelling, by the way), the judge I clerk for, comes by where I work and we start chatting, attempting to do the whole closure thing I guess. A couple other student workers were in the other cubicles--you can pretty much hear any conversations any of the students have if you want to. Out of the blue, Micheal asks if I'd like to grab lunch. Now, I've hinted around to this before but with no luck, so this totally caught me off guard. I couldn't say "no, I'm not feeling well because I have this seizure disorder that I never explained to you or anyone here and generally keep private, especially from students who I go to law school with that aren't close friends." No, I couldnt' say that, but I knew I couldn't say "yes." I simply was not up to it, and on days like today I try to coast through everything and avoid anything unexpected. Again, it's hard to explain, but hopefully it makes sense. I guess I could have taken my chances and just gone to lunch with him, but after nine years of dealing with this, the lesson I've learned is to be very risk-averse.So I said "no, I'm meeting someone for lunch already."

Oh God! Idiot! I mean, I might as well have spit on the guy. As soon as we were done talking, I went to his office and explained things to him. He was cool, so that's good. I would rather the whole thing have not happened, but at least I fixed things with him. The other students, though, were more problematic. I'm not close friends with any of them, but I know they're pretty socially well-connected at the law school (read: gossipy, at least I think Ben is), and that I don't want to explain anything to them I consider personal. Somehow, it would get all twisted up in subsequent retellings (which would be inevitable). I sound paranoid, but our law school has quite a healthy grapevine. The problem now is that they think I'm probably the most stuck-up, anti-social prick--not to mention a dumbass--to ever be a law student. So, yeah--great.

I know reputation isn't everything, but I don't like being thought of in a certain way for all the wrong reasons. If someone wants to think of me as an arrogant dumbass, then I want it to be for a valid reason. Like that I ran over an old lady or something and then sued her for emotional distress. And I'd also like it if they would just say it to my face, but I guess the chances of that are nil. It'd be easy if this was somehow me getting my comeuppance, but it isn't.

You know, it seems that no matter how hard I try to do things right, life always bites me in the ass. At least, that's what it feels like sometimes. Maybe this should become part of my expectations. But that seems pessimistic and unacceptable, doesn't it?

I guess I'm just sick of the whole ordeal. I'm sick of bad stuff happening. I'm sick of it so often being beyond my control. I'm sick of having to constantly choose between being honest with people about things I'd rather not talk about, and having to lie to them to avoid the topic. I'm sick of the limitations my health has put on me for the last nine years. I'm sick of having to compete with myself along with everyone else to try to get ahead, if even a little bit. I'm sick of trying to explain this to people only to have them not get it or tell me "things could be worse," when in fact things could be a helluva lot better, too. I'm sick of never being able to completely "let go" even for one day lest I get reminded of what happens when I do that. I'm sick of always having to get enough sleep, and eat right, and avoid stress. I'm sick of living what feels like a half-life. I'm sick of not having a choice in this, and I'm sick of not being able to fix it. I'M SICK OF BEING SICK.

And when I said a few posts ago that I wouldn't change anything? I guess I'll still stick by that, because I think in a lot of ways I'm a better person on the whole than I would have been had everything been "easy." But I can't accept this anymore than I have already. There's a fine line between accepting something and giving up hope, and this seizure disorder was never something I felt like I should have to accept. Not completely. And I don't. I won't. I feel like I've learned whatever cosmic lesson I was supposed to learn, and that's all that should be expected of anyone.

Peter Jennings, 1938-2005

2005-08-08T19:18:00.000-04:00

I feel strange writing a post about someone I didn't even know, but I suppose in some way millions of people knew Peter Jennings, and felt comfortable enough to invite him into their homes for a few moments each week. Even though he hasn't been at the anchor desk for four months now, it seems that he never really left. But now he has, and the world of journalism seems emptier for it.

News anchors are often unusual creatures. Typically, they are little more than a pleasant face with a pleasant voice and a nice smile. Often, they seem self-absorbed, even heartless--preoccupied more with celebrity than with news. Maybe this is stereotypical, but sterotypes don't develop on their own. Peter Jennings was never like this. Perhaps this is just my opinion, but of all the news anchors--Brokaw, Rather, Williams, etc.--Jennings had the most integrity, the most real humanity. You felt that when he reported a story, especially when it dealt with international concerns, that he was invested in it and had an intellectual awareness of the topic. You could never imagine him getting tongue-tied or flustered in the midst of a conversation or the heat of debate, nor did you ever really sense that he needed a teleprompter.

Anyways, those are my thoughts. It's sad to lose someone who in a very unique way you grew up with, and it's sad to lose someone who was so professional in his occupation. But undoubtedly he'll inspire others to do equally good work, and for that example we can all be very thankful.

Only 3 Weeks Until Fall Semester!!!

2005-08-08T15:56:00.000-04:00

Read the title of this post with heavy sarcasm added. I'm not actually that thrilled about starting my last year in law school. First, I'm taking a lot of classes, and I'm co-editor of the business journal, and I'm still an RA/TA, and I need to write at least two big papers that will have nothing to do with any classes. I'll be a busy little bee. Second, this is my last year in law school. That is scary. I can no longer think casually about things like employment and the bar, because they are very much on the horizon. Granted, I might be pursuing an MBA after law school if things go as planned (knock on wood), so I guess I should feel slightly less stressed. Not that an MBA is a walk in the park, but it is education, and as one of my friends said "more education is always good." And I seem to be reasonably skillful at and comfortable with academic pursuits.

Part of me, though, is thrilled about the new semester (using the term "thrilled" loosely). I didn't really have any downtime this summer, so I think the transition into classes will be fairly easy. And, my class schedule, although full, is not unbearable. I figured I'd share it here and now, even though it is subject to change. In fact, I'd be shocked if it didn't change slightly :) The main reason I'm putting it here is that I'm looking for any advice from those who have already had any of these classes, or had a class they loved that they see missing and might recommend.

Mondays--International Taxation [I've been to Canada and encountered all the GST/HST stuff, but apparently the class has a slightly different angle]; Corporate Income Tax [because nothing gets you through a case of the Mondays quite as well as a double dose of tax law]; Copyright Law [this will be my first intellectual property class, but even if I love it, that's the only class in the area that I'll be able to take before graduating--so I guess I'm better off hating it?]. Are Mondays ever fun?

Tuesdays--Condominium Law [I can't imagine not dropping this class and replacing it with something else; I can conceive of it being interesting, but the professor is as dry as a q-tip in the desert, from what I hear]; Professional Responsibility [because it's required and I have to take some kind of state exam on this stuff--I bet it's not free, either].

Wednesdays are like Mondays, but with no International Tax; Thursdays are like Tuesdays, but with no Condom Law. I mean, Condo Law. No Friday classes, and I'm keeping it that way. So clearly I have room for something else. Perhaps a directed study, if I could think of a topic. Maybe "Feminism and the Law" or "Animal Law." Which don't overlap, I swear.

I'm realizing that I need an easy A in my schedule somewhere. This is my third year, things should be more laid back, right? As Ken would say: Riiiigggght.

Changed the Look

2005-08-08T15:12:00.000-04:00

This is the blog equivalent of a dye-job, I guess. Not that any new visitors to my site would know this, but I'm using this new template. I previously had "Minima Ochre" (very chic name, no?), which was great. But a change was needed. This one isn't perfect, but it'll do. If I could become more adept at altering the template, then I could just design one myself. Any advice or comment on this is welcome, of course....

My Sister is the Coolest...

2005-08-06T23:49:00.000-04:00

Alright, big confession time here. I've never been to a real pop concert. I went to a Christian rock concert in high school (I think it was Jars of Clay), and it was loud and had flashing lights and smelled like a cat went everywhere (which my friends later explained was marijuana). I couldn't hear afterward, and I arrived home well after midnight, but still--it was a Christian rock concert, and there was this heavy conversion aspect, even though everyone there clearly was not in need of being converted. I've also been to a boat load of classical and various ethnic/world concerts, back during my music major years. The one was an old Native American woman and her accordion, and she was doing this thing, where she didn't play any music, but just interpreted what came to her in the ether. Uh, okay. In other words, random chords and squeaks and groans strung together. Mostly from the accordion. It was noise for high-minded people, and after four minutes you felt that insanity was not too far away. I lasted five minutes, and then my sister (who I'll refer to simply as E, since that seems very cool and covert) and I walked out, quite conspicuously. A few years later there was the rock-violinist Christina Fong who had a warning in the program that "this performance will employ strobe-lights and gun-shot sound effects." Yeah, more likely the patrons were putting themselves out of their misery. I lasted through one piece, and then I walked out. I still managed to write a review of it for the school paper the next day, though.

Obviously, my concert-going experiences have been atypical for someone my age. Thankfully, that all changed on Thursday, when E gave me the best day-after-birthday gift ever. She won two tickets to a concert in Grand Rapids through the local college station, the Impact, which plays a lot of indie stuff. It's actually an excellent student-run station; if you're ever in Lansing, be sure to tune to 88.9. Although she's better at telling the story (and probably has a nice version of it on her blog), the short of it is that you had to be the fifth caller, and she was the 2nd, 4th, and 5th caller. Two other people who would have been the fifth caller hung up for some unknown reason--I think my sister has some psychic powers :) As the deejay said to her "persistence pays off."

The tickets were for Blondfire, formerly known as Astaire (guess why the name had to be changed, hmmm), and I have to say that the group is awesome. I don't have some star or diamond rating system, but I'll simply say that I give them my most enthusiastic endorsement. Mark my word, this brother-sister duo (who are from near Grand Rapids, which also earns them points), will someday be huge. They're already getting a lot of play on iTunes, so clearly the mass appeal is present. As for how to describe them, their website does a good job. I guess I'd put them in the same category as the Cardigans, though I think Blondfire writes catchier hooks. They've toured with Ivy, and will be touring with Cake thiss Fall in Europe, if that helps to pinpoint their sound. Their most popular song ("L-L-Love") is a good example, but every song from the hour-long set they performed had this quality of being fresh but familiar. A little europop, a little 80's new wave--okay, a little everything from the last two decades of popular music, with the exception of country western and rap/hip hop. Although with their uncanny songwriting ability, I'm sure they could cross genres easily. They've written over 150 songs, and I cannot imagine that any of them are disappointing. Erica Driscoll does the vocals, and has a very pure, effortless sound. Again, Cardigan-ish but not so breathy, maybe a little like some of the Irish groups (Coors, Cranberries)--a nice change of pace, regardless. She and her brother Bruce both do guitar and keyboard, and he also does bass.

The setting at the Urban Institute was intimate--just about 50 people in attendance, in a small venue in downtown GR, and a stripped-down acoustic set. I tend to like these smaller, pared-down concerts, becauses it becomes more about the music and less about the extraneous aspects of performance. Every song they chose was a gem, and their on-stage banter is comfortable and unforced (Erica at one point commenting that Bruce "was sweating like Whitney Houston"; Bruce, referring to their L-L-Love song being used in the movie Monster-in-Law, saying tongue-in-cheek "I highly recommend the movie. In fact, it's now become my favorite movie..."). My personal favorites that evening were Right Where I Want You, Baby Blue, Paper Doll,...okay, so it's impossible to really choose favorites, because the ones that aren't my favorites are still so darned infectious.

What sets Erica and Bruce even more apart, however, is that they're genuinely nice and unaffected by their impending fame. E and I each got our CDs signed, and I got a t-shirt signed (which I never, ever do, but I think it was a worthwhile investment), and then we chatted with the sister and then the brother for a while. They were just so normal and down-to-earth; I was almost regretful that I didn't have a chance to talk more with them, and I'm not exactly an extrovert. I hope to see them perform again in the near future, though I'll always remember this first time as something very, very unique.

Blondfire is coming to New York in the coming weeks (check their website for dates and locations) and then are off to Spain in September. And in case this wasn't obvious from the past several paragraphs, let me reiterate: SEE THIS BAND.

25 Years--what a ride

2005-08-05T20:29:00.000-04:00

I've only posted once in over a month, and I feel terrible about this. In the past month, a lot has happened. I'm in much better shape now than ever in my entire life, and can actaully wear size 34 pants, although I don't look much different on the outside. Half of my lineage is Polish and Russian, a race apparently destined for big everything from the waist down (get your mind out of the gutter), so I feel that dropping a pant size symbolizes overcoming some massive genetic hurdle. In less superficial matters, I've decided to continue my academic pursuits and try my hand at an MBA after law school. On August 22nd, I will be taking the GMAT and, hopefully, proving once again that my verbal skills are vastly superior to any quantitative abilities I have. This will be the case no matter how much I study, so I might as well resign myself to that fact. The last thirty days have also seen me have and get over a major crush. I'm not really sure how to describe why that mattered, but the experience is probably universal enough that I need not explain just how important these things seem in the moment. Despite seeming totally retarded in hindsight...

And, I'm now 25. I've more or less felt that I was 25 for a couple months now--I'm not sure why--so reaching the actual milestone didn't have the usual zing. But it still means something, doesn't it? Every year, I resolve not to become introspective about the whole birthday weirdness. That's impossible, though. The professor for whom I do research (and basically whatever else is necessary and reasonable for seven bucks an hour) told me that she was in Italy with her husband, at some lovely outdoor cafe, when suddenly he said "It's your birthday!" She actually had forgot her own birthday, but as it turns out could not have asked for a more perfect one. This sort of thing will never happen to me. August 3rd is so completely ingrained into my psyche that the only way I'd forget it's significance is if I suffered some blunt head trauma. Repeatedly.

As birthdays go, this is one of the best ones I've had. My early 20s, which I now can conveniently group into a single period, were always marked by a filling of unattainment. I'm not sure if that's even a word, but it should be. I always had certain ideas of where I would be at certain ages, and was never anywhere close to my goals. Well, I won't lie, I had a ton of goals for my 25th birthday. Ask any of my friends or family, and they'll tell you that I always say "if you're going to be anything great, you have to do it by the time you're 25." A perhaps insane standard to live up to, but to me it seems very reasonable. So the last five years, I've had this big 2 5 looming in the distance, weighing me down with a lot of self-doubt and internal pressure.

But now it's finally arrived, and you know what? This year, for the first time since I started to think in depth about what I wanted to do with my life, I didn't wish that I could go back and change anything. Maybe it was a simple cases of the anticipation being the worst part, but actually knowing that I'm 25 has somehow made me feel freer than I have in years. Yes, some things have happened that made my life a lot harder, and other things that I desperately wanted never materialized. But the place I'm at today, for better or worse, is a place I basically like. I won't lie and say I love it, nor will I pretend I hate it.

I think the big problem before was that I imagined this ultimate version of me, the me that would have been if everything had worked out perfectly. I just assumed that if I put in enough effort, I could get closer to all those things I imagined for myself--as if I had taken a detour and was trying desperately to get back on the main road. But it just isn't like that. Whatever those first 25 years could have been....well, they're over now. The next 25, though, are just beginning. All I can simply hope is that I learned well from my mistakes and learned even better from what I did right.

A Good Day

2005-07-11T17:41:00.000-04:00

Wow. It's been a while--too long, really. I wish I could say that I've been overwhelmed with things to do and people to see. Actually, in the last week I've probably had more free time than I have in months. Work now occupies only three hours of my day every morning, my Mortgages class is thankfully over, the research project for this one professor is on hiatus while he bandies about the Outback (the one in Australia). Basically, I have no pressing obligations to anyone, and the next month may very well be one of the last truly free times I'll have until my hopefully early retirement at age 45. But still, that's twenty years away.

The problem is that I've become so accustomed to having things on my plate, that now my chief problem is having no idea how to occupy my time. Part of me wants to be productive. Get a head start on bar exam studying. Start working on the giant paper that you'll be doing Fall semester. Clean your room, again. Actually do the daily exercise regimen you've planned out in your head. But the part of me that says "screw productivity" is winning out lately, and I'm glad for it. Still, I was left with wondering what to do, since I refuse to just watch television, and since cooking only takes up so much time.

Yesterday was the turning point. I was going grocery shopping with Elvira--one of those long, involved shopping trips that requires going to four different stores, because Sam's is the only place with really good onions, while GFS has the best deal on frozen vegetables and bottled water (not a package deal, of course), and between Kroger and Meijer one is always missing a decent buy on something you need. It was hot again--another 90 plus day, the intense heat this summer becoming almost routine. Almost, I say, since heat is never typical in Michigan. We had to go to the library first, because she had some items on hold. It's one of those very tiny branch libraries, about the same size as the one in my home town, maybe smaller, with the intimate feeling of a non-corporate bookstore, but no dish of day-old biscotti. She had some books and CDs waiting on a shelf filled with items being held for dozens of patrons, and I had decided that even waiting in the car a few minutes was intolerable, the heat being just too much. How people once survived without air conditioned cars is beyond me. It was cool and stale at the same time, like all libraries, but it was somehow completely different than the law library or any of the college libraries I had trafficked over the past seven years. Whatever it was, it suddenly awakened this urge inside me to check something out, anything. I didn't care. The decision wasn't even negotiable. I felt that if I didn't get something to read, at that moment, that my life would take a very different turn. Strange, of course, but I learned a long time ago not to ignore feelings like that.

So I did, and now I'm two thirds of the way through Elmore Leonard's "The Hot Kid" and will then tackle "Kafka on the Shore" by a Japanese author, Maruyama I think. Apparently he's rather well-known--I'm hoping that he's not so well-known that my not knowing his name means I've been living under a rock, with respect to my reading habits, but if he is it wouldn't surprise me. Both are newer fiction books, but I like fiction and haven't read any in some time. My sister reminded me that the best way to know if a book will be good is to read the opening lines, and these lines grabbed me. Totally different--Leonard snappy, while the other guy is more ethereal-- but both thoughtful.

And that, I realized in bed last night, made all the difference. A whole afternoon spent between pages of "The Hot Kid," measures of Chopin's Ballade in F minor, and lines of a short story idea I'm working up on my laptop. I finally gave in to my passive entertainment urges and watched an Inspector Lynley Mystery on PBS, but I think that was acceptable. It reminded me of how days used to float by when I was much younger, and I guess whenever you can recapture that feeling of buoyancy for a handful of hours, you know you're doing something right.

Captain Obvious

2005-06-29T18:43:00.000-04:00

While on my commute to class this morning (which, at about 4 miles, lasts all of ten blissful minutes), I actually listened to a couple of the radio DJs who do this segment called "Captain Obvious," where they tell about research published in real scientific journals that is painfully idiotic. Today was especially funny (and painful):

From the Journal of Economics & Psychology: researchers found that those who gave considerable thought to what kind of job they would take were more likely to experience job satisfaction than those who took jobs on a whim.

From some random health journal: college students are more likely than people in other age groups to drink more alcohol than they realize

From an Internal Medicine Journal: Patients who report unusual side effects to medications are more likely to be treated for these problems.

And, my favorite, in the Journal of Psychonomics (at least, I think that's what they said), a study revealing that it's easier to identify someone standing close to you than someone standing 450 feet away.

And now that the humor is done, time for my two cents. Research is important. I like doing research, and I think that intellectual curiosity is, obviously, very important. Many of my older relatives--who came from an era when you left home at 18, got a job or joined the army, got married if you weren't already, and didn't give much thought to college--can't understand why anyone would get a doctorate. They can sort of appreciate the idea of becoming a lawyer or doctor (the physician kind), simply because they know that (1) it makes a lot of money (2) they've needed doctors and lawyers for their own needs, so the comfort level is there (to the extent any non-lawyer can be comfortable around a lawyer) and (3) it makes a lot of money. Or, maybe the money thing isn't that important, since they're all pretty well off. Maybe it's more tied to reputation. But the few times I've mentioned a PhD to anyone in my extended family, they all get this look, as if PhDs are reserved for odd eccentrics who live out their lives as half-cracked bohemians and die of starvation. I try to point out that only English PhDs wind up like this (sorry Sarah :)), but to no avail. Given that I was this close (imagine me holding thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart) to trying an Economics PhD, that I have many friends who took the plunge, and that good professors are always in short supply (my relatives seemed to ahve forgotten about this), I feel the need to defend the honor of pursuing a doctorate.

So, being intellectually curious is good, and getting a doctorate can be very good for certain people, as well as benefiting society, yada yada. However, I think the above research, while funny, is also kind of sad. Granted, I haven't read these studies (I'll have to put that on my list of things to do, definitely), and they may be marginally useful, or even highly useful in unexpected ways in the future. Everything builds on everything else, or, as my 1L Contracts prof loved to say, "it's all a seamless web" as he interlaced his fingers (just to complete the image, he reminds me a little of Paul Giamatti, but thinner and more outlandish). Still, it seems that some of the "duh" projects, like those above, could be incorporated into more substantial work. Or maybe we should just all agree that some things--especially that distance-perception thing above--are simply givens, especially in this day and age. Now, if someone wants to examine why college students don't realize how much they're drinking (I doubt the explanation is too deep), then I suppose that's more justifiable. Maybe the litmus test should be that if you can tell people who respect academic pursuits with a straight face what you're working on and not be intellectually embarrassed for yourself, then what you're doing is respectable. And in the end, I guess my biggest concern is that for every research project done like those above, the kind that elicit a smirk from the casual observer, society's view of the worth of people who devote five to ten years of their life to a single-minded pursuit will diminish. So the next time you're considering researching why fewer swimsuits are sold in northern states, or something equally compelling, perhaps take a moment and reconsider.

[This would probably be better suited to a blog whose readers are grad students, but oh well.]

One of those days...

2005-06-29T00:05:00.000-04:00

Have you ever had one of those days when you start out in a good mood only to have one thing after another go wrong? Today was one of those days, and normally that wouldn't be very interesting to write about, but for some reason it didn't get to me like it normally would. Work was rough the last two days, not in terms of efficiency, but in terms of me getting a lot of constructive criticism (read: blame) from a lot of people for various things. Class was rough on Monday, when we had an actual pop quiz (that isn't supposed to happen in law school!). We've had eight point quizzes or take home quizzes every week, and this time he nails us with this awful 15 point, four part question on a Monday instead. Nice guy. And this afternoon was pretty much the final straw, when I went to a meeting with a Professor for whom I'm doing some research (who himself is doing the research for a big wig at our college). Let's just say that I had made a fatal assumption that caused me to look at the problem in the totally wrong way. This became evident exactly one minute into our meeting, at which point I was screwed and proceeded to really flounder. FLOUNDER. I never fully grasped the meaning of that word until now. I don't like being in that situation. In fact, I don't recall ever actually being in that situation, at least not to that degree. At one point I actually said "I'm really sorry for wasting your time like this." That was about as coherent as I got, too. Obviously, I'll be better prepared at our next tete a tete. Hopefully.

But back to my main point. Despite all this unpleasant stuff (added to a bunch of other minor annoyances), I felt okay. After swearing a few times in the elevator (I only had a three floor ride, so not much time for that), I was eerily calm. In fact, I can't remember a time when I haven't let things like this quietly eat away at me for some time. I'm a perfectionist, and one who doesn't quickly forget his shortcomings/mistakes. Luckily I'm only like this with myself, not the people around me, or I might be really unbearable to be around. Today, though, I seemed to have this perspective, that none of it was a big deal. Maybe this is a fluke, or maybe it means I'm growing up a little. I remember my Mom saying, quite often, that someday I'd be old enough that I'd realize the only thing that matters is making other people happy and being around people who make me happy, and that I wouldn't care about all the other random stuff that happens. She said it in Mom lingo of course, so it sounded much more profound. But I think I've captured the basic idea, and so have a lot of other philosophical types. I used to think all those things she said were just a panacea for my wounded pride, but more and more of them are starting to be true. Scary :)

2005-06-27T15:39:00.000-04:00

Random observation at work: you know the number pad on keyboards off on the right side? Why don't they shorten the "Enter" key or "+" key and add a comma? Last time I checked, we don't use the European method of periods instead of commas, and frankly my efficiency is being seriously cut down. I'm entering numbers in the thousands and millions here people. This is the big time, and I deserve a conveniently placed comma key.

2005-06-26T15:12:00.000-04:00

Hmmmm....

So, a little advice here. I got some mailing address labels the other day. You know, how an organization sends you some in the hopes that you'll donate some money. I'm assuming this is a good tactic for fundraising, because it seems to happen frequently. Not all the time, but enough that whenever I'm running out of one set, I usually get another one. Right on time, too, but always from another organization. It's as if there's some umbrella agency whose sole function is to monitor when people run out of free address labels. This really wouldn't surprise me--I can almost imagine what the workplace is like. "Diane, check sector 12. We have a Bob Smith in Chicago who decided to send out all his bills this month instead of using online bill-pay. He's running dangerously low; hit him up with those Mothers Against Drunk Driving labels, the ones with the little gold foil broken martini glass on the side." Or something like that.

Normally, I don't feel obliged to donate. I take the labels, check the name of the charity to make sure it's not one I'm giving to already or anything, and then I'm done. Okay, so I don't always check who sent it. I'm just that bad. I figure they're getting enough return to more than cover the labels and shipping costs. If not, then I've helped them learn a valuable economic lesson for the future. But these labels usually aren't that great anyways. Usually, they have something very feminine (cats! tulips! cats with tulips!), so that I'm forced to use them only on bills from places I don't like (I don't like most places I get bills from, of course). And then I hope I'm not being entered into some database: look, he used a label with pink lace, we'd better his name on the watch list. I don't know what the watch list would be for, but I'm sure there is one.

But these most recent labels present a problem: they're nice. Really nice. We're talking loads of metallic, full color embossing. And so much detail. One shows the Mackinac Bridge (in gold) against a waving American flag, the next has Mount Rushmore (in gold), the next a simple S for Skuzinski in one of those rich gothic fonts (and surrounded by...gold), etc., etc. Eight styles, and only one dud (a disembodied eagle head--with, you guessed it, a big gold beak...I'll be paying bills with that one). These are beautiful labels. Exquisite labels. When I hold them up to the light, and see their shiny wonderfulness, I almost get choked up. So here's the problem. I feel compelled to give something now, but on the other hand I feel like it's wrong somehow to give because I got the labels. And I feel like I'm not upholding my principles. Honestly, I wouldn't have given to the Disabled American Veterans. I mean, I would, but I wouldn't have taken the initiative. So isn't this succumbing to being cajoled?

I tell myself that this is what they wanted. That they splurged a little on these labels because they knew the impact it would have. Heck, these labels could have garnered a contribution to the Pig Roaster's Society of America, or something equally mundane. You really should see these labels, if you haven't already realized it.

I guess I should just stop writing now and get out my checkbook.

2005-06-21T21:43:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I discovered that the Scottish were worth more than poems about the moors and assorted amusing stereotypes. Assuming that the Mesopotamians didn't hit a tiny ball with a stick at some point (yeah, that's not likely), I guess we owe the fourth American pasttime (after baseball, football, and basketball--sorry to all you swimmers) to our brrrrethrrren across the Atlantic. And what a good pasttime it is. Aside from providing more euphemisms than any other sport, watching a tiny ball soar through the air as the result of a swing--your swing--is just very, very cool. I discovered this coolness two days ago at the driving range, playing for the first time since going through what I affectionately refer to as my second puberty. Or whatever it was that resulted in my chest and shoulders finally filling out (yes! all those trips to GNC for mega-triple-X-super-ripped-my-clothes-sorry finally paid off).

As a tribute to my new love for golf, which I expect to last until I try my hand at the short game, I've decided to inform my readers of the history of the game, so that they, too, can grow to love it. I found some FAQs online that were most helpful for this purpose, so I kept the questions (they are all real, surprisingly), but the answers were boring, so I felt I should make it more interesting (if marginally less true):

When and where did golf begin?

Contrary to popular belief, golf began in North America. One day in the late 1500s, a group of conquistadors approached members of one of the tribes with an assortment of clubs of varying sizes. After all the killing, they decided to try a game one of them thought of called "gulf." The word embodied the concern about the growing generation gap between the older and younger generations, and the mistaken belief that the game would help bridge that "gulf." Clearly, the Spanish were abstract thinkers well before Picasso arrived. Several of the more enterprising men started a resort in the land they had referred to as "Maxico," which was the name of the large multinational conglomerate started near the present day Yucatan Peninsula that made "feminine napkins." The resort was called "Gulf of Maxico," and is still known by the name today with a minor spelling change. Of course, it is now a body of water because of the large meteor that struck a few years later. This was the same meteor that caused the extinction of the dinosaurs. The insurance policy on the resort funded the Spanish empire for the next century. The Flintstones provides a surprisingly accurate record of how the game was played in those days.

Why are golf courses 18 holes in length?

Interesting question. Golf was originally designed as a rite of passage for men, and a quote from two ancient letters discussing the game which state that "a real man can get it up and down and into the hole 18 times without losing stamina." Another states that "18 makes it legal." However, scholars still debate if either source had anything to do with golf, though they aren't sure what else the quotes could possible refer to.

What is the oldest public golf course in the U.S.?

Probably a parking lot by now.

Why do golfers yell "fore" to warn others of an errant shot?

Because it's less incriminating than yelling "hey, dodge this."

What is the origin of the term "Mulligan"?

It's a phonetic shortening of the phrase used by golfers when playing very poorly: "This sucks. Mall again? Sure, let's go. I hear there's a sale at Abercrombie."

When was the first golf tournament televised?

Sometime after television was invented, I think.

Why is the golf hole the size that it is?

You're kidding, right? Maybe you need to read Goldilocks and the Three Bears again. By the way, the real answer, in short, according to this website is: "But it was almost certainly a completely arbitrary thing..." Gee, thanks.

When were the first rules written, and what were they?

The first rules were written A Long Time Ago, and were called the Ten Commandments. As far as I know, they had little to do with golf, unless, for example, you kill someone on the 15th green, which is a big no-no (wait for the 16th). Or if you're doing anything covetous out there.

What is the origin of the Big Bertha brand of drivers?

Let's just say someone slept on the couch that night.

2005-06-15T00:16:00.000-04:00

Is 343 email messages too many? I think it probably is, so today, when I could have been doing something much more productive, I decided to see if pages two through seven of my inbox and the multitude of folders I have (which were supposed to help me become organized, imagine that) actually had anything useful worth saving. As expected, most of it was stuff that was really relevant at one time, but now just serves as a useful reminder of things that occurred during the past year. As in, "hmmm, I forgot just how often [random person] bugged me with questions and requests."

But the freaky thing was the last email I found from someone who I considered a very good friend. She wasn't someone I'd consider a best friend--I think it's kind of hard to be best friends with someone of the opposite sex, but that's for another blog post. We had known eachother a while though, and talked freely about most things. I even, at one time, had thought she would be fun to date. Fortunately, we seemed to have this silent agreement not to broach that subject (or maybe it was just a unilateral thing going on in only my head, who knows) , and, honestly, I'm glad we never did. It would have just been too weird. Besides, she's married now.

The email was dated over six months ago. Six months! It hadn't seemed that long at all, but it was. And since that email, we haven't communicated at all. There was no sense of closure in that email, no hint of finality. Frankly, it was just one of our generic back-and-forths, discussing innocuous daily life stuff. I know I wrote back, but I don't go through the trouble of logging every email sent and received (that would be a lot of emails). I'm assuming it was more generic stuff, totally random, the kind sent between friends every day.

Now, you're probably thinking that my impulse was to send an email to her at that very moment, to make an attempt to resume our dormant friendship. Maybe that should have been my impulse, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. We're in different places now, and I think we were both realizing that some sort of gap was developing. Still, I'm bothered that someone who was basically a consistent fixture in my life suddenly dropped out of it. Granted, only six months have passed, but "dropped" seems like the right word. And I realize it was only email, but we had known eachother in "real" life before that. Besides, I've known a couple of people solely by email who I can honestly say I think I have more of a friendship with than some of my friends at law school, even if it is electronic.

As I thought about this one instance, I realized that relationships are never black and white. Perhaps this is a late age to realize something so fundamental, but I never gave it much thought before. Relationships never really start or finish. Just today, an email exchange that started for purely business reasons morphed in just a few sentences to something surprisingly friendly and familiar. It wasn't planned. These things never are. It's like the party you attend out of obligation to someone else, where some random exchange of pleasantries evolves into something more. I never really feel like such occurrences are a "start," though. I mean, obviously, you're meeting someone for the first time, but when you really "click" with someone, part of you feels like you must have known him or her already, in some weird sense. An odd notion, but that's how it always seems to me, and it's one of the things that makes life cool.

On the other end, though, relationships never seem to finish with any sense of finality, or with any sense of regularity. Goodbyes, as final as they might seem at the time, really don't mean anything. You can think that people you didn't really miss are out of your life, only to have them reappear unexpectedly, as if they were never really gone. Or, you can suddenly have the people who you think will be in your life forever simply fade away, without rhyme or reason. And as much as you try to get them back in your life, your efforts seem pointless. Maybe this is just the way things are supposed to work. Maybe we're simply meant to have certain people at certain times, because of where we are in life. I believe God guides us, or at least nudges us, in a certain direction, of course, and I'm sure that our relationships play a large role in this. But at the same time, it seems cold, even a little inhuman, to think that our relationships are so functional. Surely some of our most important relationships are just meant to exist for their own sake, for that unique whatever-it-is that exists when two people have a good vibe.

The only conclusion I can draw is that sometimes, when it comes to people, we're simply wrong. Sometimes we think that the person we can talk for hours with will always be there for those wonderfully meaningless conversations. And sometimes, that insignificant minute chatting on the elevator with a complete stranger becomes something much more months later. I expected that this all would become more predictable as I got older, but I'm slowly learning that growing up means more uncertainty, more gray areas, more time spent trying to figure out confusion. I guess relationships aren't so much something we actively cultivate, as they are something that life brings to us. If we're lucky, the good ones grow into something and last. Maybe this isn't the most proactive view to take, and maybe I could have more control if I tried a little harder. In the end, though, I'm not sure I would want it.

Making Some Decisions

2005-06-11T16:47:00.000-04:00

Scheduling classes should not be difficult. Find what's required and take it, then fill in the gaps with whatever will be heavily tested on the bar or looks good on a resume. Yup, easy stuff. And that's exactly what I did a week ago. Had some tax classes, because I'm working in tax this summer, and tax classes seem to be easy A's for me. Added a couple ULWR (i.e. "big senior paper") classes since I didn't want too many exams. Enrolled in the required Professional Responsibility class (aka, the "(1) don't screw with clients in any sense of the word (2) be very communicative (3) keep finances in order" class). And finished things off with Decedent's Estates and Trusts, because it's on the bar a lot.

I can't say that I was excited about any of my classes except for International Taxation, mainly because as an economics major I did a ton of stuff dealing with globalization but haven't had that kind of exposure yet in law school. As for the rest, I was just neutral. My classes met at good times, the profs were decent as far as I knew, and I didn't really hate the idea of any of them. But I was talking to one of my professors the other day, and telling her my Fall schedule. Her response to at least two of the classes was, and this is pretty much accurate: "Oh gawwwd, that sounds so terribly boring." Except, she has this way of talking that makes a statement like that have even more zing than I could possibly express in type. I managed a few weak protests as to why I was taking these classes, how each one met some sort of requirement or other, etc. Until, finally, I talked myself into a wall (that's a familiar occurrence for me) and realized that she was right. Here I was, my last year in law school, with the vast majority of all my graduation requirements already met, and I was already grooming my transcripts for a career that I didn't even really want to enter and a bar exam that I knew I'd probably study for enough to pass regardless of my curricular background.

So, I decided that a change was necessary, and this morning I revamped my schedule. I dropped Corporate Income Tax and replaced it with Copyright Law, and I swapped a Licensing IP class for Decedents. That, and I plan to do a directed study of some kind. Not huge changes, but they feel important somehow. I might not even like soft IP, but I figure it at least is the closest I can come to somehow meshing my creative impulses with the legal world. Maybe I'll work for a publishing company or something.

I hope it's fun....

Check This Out

2005-06-11T13:38:00.000-04:00

Hey people. I know there aren't many of you reading this, but those who are, check out http://jdjanelle.blogspot.com. One of my law school buds (a very cool lady who is working for the summer in a prosecutor's office in Newark--and is clearly ready to conquer the world, but do it the right way) started it recently, and it's got my recommendation, whatever that's worth. Any of you thinking of going into crim law should definitely read it. I'll have a permanent link on the right column very soon, too.

2005-06-10T19:52:00.000-04:00

Puppies are cool

Super quick update

2005-06-09T20:55:00.000-04:00

My blog posting has somehow become less frequent, even though it's summer. Even though I feel less busy now that Spring semester is over, I guess in reality I have just as much stuff to do. I'll do this list-style since that's easier:

(1) I turned in my revised decision to the Judge (the one I've been referring to in many blog posts). I guess I did something right, because ten minutes later he comes to my cubicle, says nice job, asks for a bigger space for his signature and that was it. No real feedback, but I'll take a "nice job" anyday. He said it a couple times, actually. It was very unreal, watching a real judge sign something I wrote and knowing that this would be going out into the real world and having a real impact.

(2) As it turns out, the day I missed work was a day that a hot shot attorney came in to argue a mega-huge case (these are actual lawyer terms I'm using, of course--it's a closely guarded secret of the profession that we all talk like surfers). The one guy at work who never has an ill thing to say about anyone actually described him with a word that begins with "a" and ends with "hole," and it was supplemented by adjectives. My jaw almost hit the floor, because I just didn't even think the guy was capable of swearing. The consensus was the same from the others in the office. Clearly, the lawyer must have really bad to elicit this kind of reaction. Wish I had been there.

(3) The papers are done!! All 43 are done!! Despite all my complaints about many of the papers (and they were warranted more often than not), there were a couple students who really improved on this last assignment. I felt good about this, even though I had minimal influence (if any) on how the students do. I've only met a handful of them, and I doubt they read the comments I put on their papers. But, I still like seeing someone work hard and then having a breakthrough moment, where you can tell they turned a corner in their level of understanding or ability. I guess this is what must motivate people to become professors and then stick with it so long, at least the ones who seem to actually care about pedagogy as much as research.

(4) I finally got over being sick. Everyone I know in Michigan (and I'm not exaggerating) has had or currently has the same thing. And it's awful, whatever it is. You'll think you have really bad allergies at first, then a really bad head cold, then a sort of flu-like thing, and then a delirious night of fever and aches and general yuck, and then feel relatively good the next day, except that you could swear you were beaten with a hammer. I think at some point there was a baseball behind my nose. It sure felt that way.

(5) Construction has gripped downtown Lansing. Actually, it's always under construction, but it's especially bad lately. Not really newsworthy, but getting to work when your building is in the middle of all the torn up streets and now torn up sidewalks is really enjoyable.

(6) This mortgages class I'm in has some classic sound bites. I've been writing them down, and hopefully I won't forget to post a long list of them in a couple weeks. Which reminds me, the exam for my summer class is in about two weeks. It's always fun to realize something like that....

(7) My sister and her [insert relationship word here because they don't "label" it--special friends or something, I don't know] from Texas are going to Chicago for a fun and festive three days around the Fourth of July. Her blog should be very fun over the next two months leading up to this and following it. Elvira would have been very useful in the days of yore when oral tradition was critical--she still talks about her trip to France from when she was in high school. So read her blog, it should be interesting. Lots more interesting than mine over that time frame, I assure you.

(8) The power went out an hour or two ago (after five days of 90 degree stickiness, a huge storm finally rolled through--and there was a very frightened deer about thirty feet--really!--from my front door, but my digital camera wasn't charged, darnit). Anyways, my laptop battery is dying, so I must cut short this riveting entry.....

By the way...

2005-06-07T00:01:00.000-04:00

...the Detroit Pistons are awesome, in case you didn't know. Especially for beating a Florida team (yes, I have an intense dislike for all teams from Florida). They remind you of what a good team plays like, rather than just a random collection of superstars. The remind you of how sweet it is to witness a superb defensive performance. They make the NBA worthwhile. Heck, they even make the city of Detroit redeemable (and that's saying a lot, trust me).

As much as I don't have anything against the Spurs, I'm betting on a repeat championship. Sorry to all my friends from San Antonio, but all y'all's boys are goin' down.

Random sidenote: only ten papers left to grade! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel...

Wow, an incredibly dull three days...

2005-06-06T19:12:00.000-04:00

I was sick all weekend, and I'm still sick today, and the forecast for tomorrow is mildly sick with a chance of thunderstorms and lingering body aches. And it's been unusually warm outside (it hit 90 on Sunday! 90!! In Michigan in early June!). As anyone knows, being not well when it's freakin' gorgeous outside is torture. I had to call in sick to the Tribunal today (all at once now: awwww, too bad). I wonder if I'm missed at all after only being there three weeks. The warped part of me imagines that the cubicles fall down and a pool table and dart boards appear, and a big bin of koosh balls is wheeled out. At least, I'm assuming all the fun happens when I'm not there, because it certainly doesn't happen when I am there, and no place can be unfun for eight hours straight every day. Can it? Should it?

That, and I'm enjoying the fruits of my procrastination. By failing to consistently work on grading papers (my TA job) I've managed to leave myself with, quite literally, exactly enough hours to finish them by the deadline for grades being due. Each paper takes an hour. And each is about exactly the same thing, dealing with the same cases, making the same arguments. I think I age more quickly when grading papers. But the really sick part is that the perfectionist proofreader part of me kind of gets off on the whole process. Figuratively, I mean.

Meanwhile, TV is conspiring to slow me down: specifically, the French Open finals, and a collection of entertaining action films, like The Matrix and The Mummy and--yes--Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (her lips are huge!!! but I guess it's all relative....). To be honest, Ron Popeil infomercials could distract me in my current frame of mind ("set it, and forget it!"). Let's just say I got the most grading done during Tomb Raider, can't imagine why. Spider-Man is on tonight--maybe I can dwell on the upside-down kiss scene for a few minutes. I'll have to put that on my to-do list....

Did a lot of cooking this weekend, but it was one of those stretches where stuff just didn't taste good, to the extent I could taste it. I did go to class this morning, which I consider a real example of my burgeoning maturity (or an ability to ignore my common sense--they might be the same thing). It was funny, mainly because I swear the prof was speaking another language most of the time. And all the grades are in now from Spring semester. I will simply say that my ability to pull a 4.0 clearly died in undergrad. The L in law school must mean "lowered expectations" or "looney grading system," since I got the same grade in a class I thought I almost failed as I did in a class that I thought I might have a chance of getting the high score in, proving once again that I have no ability to predict how I will do in any class, regardless of my effort or my level of class participation. Which is oh so satisfying. I have also come to the conclusion that four credit classes are not my friend, and have proceeded to drop such classes from my schedule next year. Even though they will be heavily tested on the bar, I've decided I'd rather just take "fun" classes (using the term very loosely) and study the other stuff on my own. I'll have to see how smart that decision is. Maybe someone out there can advise...

Clearly, there is nothing exciting to share, so I'll end this. Please, something happen to me so that I can write about it (something not bad, of course).

Tennis Rocks

2005-06-01T23:26:00.000-04:00

I love tennis. Far and away, this is my favorite spectator sport. And, if I was athletically inclined, it would probably be my favorite to play. I generally like individual sports anyways--something is exciting about knowing someone is out there with just whatever is going on between their ears. This is why I like kickers so much in football. You can just tell they're not really part of the team, that they're a breed apart from the rest. You need cojones to go it alone. Then again, relying on the other guys in a team can be scary, as can facing them in the locker room if you monumentally screwed up somehow. But still, the stakes just don't seem as high as in the solo sports. Underdog victories feel bigger, the true champions seem even more stratospheric, and the heartbreaking losses seem to linger even more.

The French Open is the big event du jour (note the (incorrect) use of a French phrase to describe something French--wasn't that subtle?). In that spirit, I thought I'd give some reasons for why I've grown to love this major, and I'll try to be mostly sincere, because I really do like it, and so should you:

(10) The candid people shots are filled with French people looking very fashionably French and doing things like feeding custard to their incredibly tiny dogs.

(9) Unlike the stringent Wimbledon rules (as white as possible with very little color! oh, and that goes for the clothing, too), the French (they are fashionable) encourage designer tennis duds. Bright cheerful colors are the order of the day, and previously unseen portions of tennis players will be exposed daily. Um, on the court, of course, and very tastefully...I mean, respectfully. Nevermind.

(8) The surface is clay! Add really hot temps and a lot of sweat, and you basically have as close to a tennis mud-wrestling match as you'll ever get.

(7) A couple years ago, I would have said this major event was your best chance to not see the Williams sisters play eachother in the final. Now, your best chance to not see them play in a final is basically whenever Venus devotes too much time to her fashion career (she's very fashionable, too, so I'm guessing she's part French), which is pretty much always.

(6) You can discover that John McEnroe is physically incapable of pronouncing any name that (a) is not "American" (b) has more than three syllables (c) has the letter "x" or "z." You will also discover that he seems to have very little to say when the more "obscure" (i.e. not American) players are playing.

(5) You get to repeatedly hear that the French crowd is very "tough" and "partisan," because sports should not be about caring who wins or loses. Unless the French crowd goes for an American (if there is an American who can actually make it into the second week anymore), which is okay because it serves as reparations for whatever the French have done wrong this year.

(4) You'll no longer have to imagine what it would look like for a giant, fuzzy yellow ball to fly around the Eiffel Tower. And I know it's been keeping you up at nights, trying to imagine it. What will those special effects wizards dream-up next!

(3) The injury treatments just seem sexier at the French Open. Maybe because it's late springtime, and love is in the air. Or maybe it's just me....

(2) Spain is the winter training ground of all Europe. Spain has clay courts. Therefore, all European players are adept at clay. Florida is the winter training ground for Americans. It does not have clay courts. Therefore, American players with few exceptions drop like flies (very sexy, fashionable flies) at Roland Garros. Therefore, you get to learn about the rest of the tennis world, which is basically Spain for the men and Russia for the women. Therefore, you'll feel a little smarter at the country club this weekend. But then you realize you don't belong to a country club. And then you're not happy. But then you see the yellow ball fly around the Eiffel Tower, and hear McEnroe butcher another name, and all is right in the world.

and the number one reason to watch the French Open:
(1) All the season finales are done, and watching that "Dancing with the Stars" reality show isn't cutting it.

2005-06-01T23:24:00.000-04:00

I really like that Howie Day song "Collide." I realize this isn't exactly novel considering it's in the Top 10 on Billboard, but I figured I'd share it anyway.

2005-06-01T23:20:00.000-04:00

Although I’m a generally tidy person, I’ve tended to let my room go while in law school. Random piles of random stuff have merged together into random mountains of paper, and the chair that would have been perfectly good lounging has become the perfect receptacle for t-shirts and sweatshirts and jeans. Every few months, though, I manage to wake up with enough extra gusto to really clean my room—more than changing the bed sheets and clearing a small patch in the middle of my desk, in other words. Basically, I try to give everything some semblance of organization, somehow. The highlight of this operation, of course, is sorting through my desk and bookshelves. I’m amazed at what I find. Projects that I never finished, things that I printed for a very important reason I can no longer recall, work done for various people that in the end was not needed—all completely useless, except to drum up memories good and bad (which is, actually, rather useful). Occasionally, I find something that actually deserves being kept.

A few days ago, during one of my cleaning days, I found an old Cambridge graph pad, filled to the last page with various sketches and blueprints and ideas. I have no idea how old I would have been when these were done, or why I had it in my room at all. But I remember with startling clarity how much fun it was to do some of those blueprints. And then I found some of the rough drafts of the newsletter I was supposed to get off the ground at my previous “job” during my undergrad years. These were two things I really enjoyed. Even today, the best way I can think of to spend my free time is to design something or write something. It means being creative, and for me that’s something essential to my happiness.

Unfortunately, I always figured that these were simply hobbies—happy diversions away from the “real world” version of me. The “me” who would be a lawyer or doctor or researcher. These are all things I enjoy, but would I choose to spend the rest of my days writing briefs and browsing Westlaw? Probably not. But if I follow the typical path, I’ll spend at least eight hours a day over the next several years doing things that I’ll find a little mundane, while my supposed “hobbies” will be relegated to the sidelines.

Why is it so hard to find and pursue our dreams? As children, we have these big, uninhibited imaginings. We don’t care about the how or why or what, we just have this inner faith that we can do anything. Practicality be damned. Even the shy and timid among us are relatively fearless, at least compared with the adults we become later.

Maybe being an adult isn’t some grand event or wonderful evolution. Maybe it’s just the grudging acceptance that practicality itself is actually a thing—and an increasingly heavy thing—to be balanced in whatever calculus we use when making decisions. It happens when we first say to ourselves “that’s just not practical.” This is why some fourteen year olds seem regrettably very much like adults, and why some forty year olds are maddeningly childish (as opposed to childlike): it’s simply a function of how much they’ve been forced into the practical way of thinking. Perhaps being realistic is good sometimes, but I think most of the time it can be damaging. It causes us to take a path of least resistance, a path that will be efficient and sensible and smart for us and everyone involved with us.

But as much as practicality is used to define adulthood, I think that more weight should be accorded to how vigorously we pursue our crazy dreams. I’m not advocating bringing down the people around us in pursuit of self-serving goals, or a total abandonment of responsibility. Obligation and constraint tempers us and makes us stronger, and helps ensure that we are running toward something rather than away from life itself.

And this is where I have a confession to make: I think that I’ve spent too much time over the past few years being terribly practical, but running away from myself all the time. I can give a great canned answer when asked why I’ve done the things I’ve done, but the honest answer, too often, would be simply: “because that’s what I was supposed to do….” I’m not even sure where I came up with this set of expectations. I guess it’s some weird blend of what I think my parents want (even though they’re both big believers in being a dreamer) and what I see everyone around me doing. Maybe—probably—I’m expecting too much of myself. Maybe I’ve made the obstacles seem bigger than they actually are.

I think for most of us lost dreamers, though, the answer is simply that we’ve forgotten how to recognize what we love and what brings us happiness. We’ve forgotten how to distinguish between what makes us interested, and what makes us passionate. In my case, I can think of only a handful of subjects or activities that I would definitely say I strongly dislike, toward which I have zero curiosity. Everything else—most of the known universe, it seems—is fair game. Obviously, I’m blessed to have had so much opportunity to wait and think about what makes me tick. But, once again, I’ve managed to overthink. And, even worse, I’ve lost my once unquestioning faith that I would be guided along somehow toward where I was supposed to be in life. Instead, I’ve done so much steering and maneuvering that I’ve managed to get lost.

So when I was looking at my old blueprints and magazine layouts, I was confronted with the old dilemma of how to get myself back to a place that feels more true without completely rocking the boat and knocking apart everything I’ve done in the last four years. Basically, I was confronted with the problem of taking the “adult” approach to reworking my life. Honestly, it’s a problem without an easy solution, and I don’t have it all figured out. Perhaps no one does. Perhaps this is what we all have to slowly figure out in order to have a good and meaningful life, whatever that might be. But for as frustrating as it can be to feel “lost,” there is something to be said for admitting that we’re not on the right path. Despite the cliché, I guess admitting there’s a problem, and having the willingness to fix it, really is an important first step. Who knows—that just might be the meaning of becoming an adult.

2005-05-27T18:56:00.000-04:00

it's not just a fro, it's a nature preserve...

I heard today on the radio that Beyonce entertained at a Bar Mitzvah for some really rich guy's 13 year old son, all for the bargain price of just $2.2 million.

Honestly, I know nothing about Bar Mitzvah, other than that they mark the passage into adulthood and that when it happens for a girl it's called a Bat Mitzvah. So I decided to look for some info on what exactly is done at one of these events, and found this:

"The meal is often accompanied by speeches from friends and relatives who encourage the bar or bat mitzvah to undertake their new role as a full-fledged Jewish adult with joy, and to strive to add spirituality to their lives."

Huh. I guess having 200 of your closest friends around and hearing Beyonce perform Bootylicious and Naughty Girrl fits the bill.

The same site describing Bar Mitzvahs (is that the proper plural) had some interesting stuff on becoming an adult, which goes well with what Jeremy was talking about on his blog:

"When boys and girls become bar and bat mitzvah, they reach a new stage of development in their lives and start thinking about the kind of people they want to be. At puberty a person no longer lives in the fantasy world of childhood and can begin to make a realistic appraisal of their world. This is the time when their moral awareness and sensitivity fully develops, enabling them to take complete responsibility for their actions. According to Jewish tradition, it is at this point that they are deemed ready to channel their inclination to do good and overcome their natural tendencies to put their own needs before those of others. On a deeper level, just as their bodies are growing and changing in a new way, so too their souls are growing and changing. The Kabbalistic tradition tells us that a person's spiritual being has several levels of soul. A new level of soul called neshamah comes into awareness at bar or bat mitzvah time. This level is what gives a person the ability to make conscious, rational decisions."

Interesting take on the whole adulthood thing. I'm not sure if I totally agree with it, but maybe I'll post some of my own thoughts about it later. But right now, I have to see about how to get my hands on $2.2 million dollars by my birthday. See you in two months, Ms. Knowles :)

Break open the champagne!

2005-05-27T18:38:00.000-04:00

My sister has finally (re)started her blog. I think it's going to be awesome, of course. I have a permanent link to it on the right....no, your other right. Yeah, there -->

Putting on my critic's hat for a moment...

2005-05-26T21:05:00.000-04:00

After years of watching TV, I’ve realized that good season finales—the kind that actually live up to the word “finale”—are few and far between. Of course, I’m segregating here between scripted shows and reality shows. Most reality shows are designed to build toward a finish. Someone becomes the Survivor, or the Apprentice, or the next American Idol, or gets the final rose, or whatever. If you have a good editing team, compelling casting, and some creative minds at work behind the scenes, a reality show will naturally have a decent season finale (I’m thinking Amazing Race and Survivor in particular).

With a scripted drama, the task becomes much more difficult. At least, this is what I would guess based on what happens with most shows. There are great pilots everywhere—heck, even Eyes and Blind Justice were sort of catchy this season before dying a horribly boring death. But a lot of shows fall into a rut (or I guess a “groove,” if ratings are high) after a few episodes. The sad thing, however, is that there seems to be this trend in all media toward not caring so much about being formulaic. The CSI and Law & Order franchises are basically procedural dramas that, ironically, follow their own set procedure. They’re designed to be bite-sized. Everyone can be replaced, basically. Honestly, who would really miss William Peterson from CSI? I’m sure any number of character actors could handle that role.

Season finales, of course, also fall into the abyss. Writers try to do different things to ramp up ratings, which usually means someone will unexpectedly leave, return, have sex, get injured, or die. Or a guest actor is brought in (and we all know how successful that usually is). And this is all entertaining, but it’s so out of context that you couldn’t care if you tried. Besides, you know that any lingering problems will be conveniently fixed, more often than not, in the first five minutes of the next season’s premiere.

A great season finale has to have three things, in my opinion. First, it has to be consistent—whatever happens should feel like it fits in seamlessly with the characters’ motives and personalities. I’d say that this is where most season finales are most likely to fail. Second, it has to resolve something—a few lingering questions should be answered, to keep the audience satisfied that the people writing the show know exactly where it’s going. Viewers don’t like to be kept guessing on every front for more than about 15 episodes, or else it just doesn’t seem realistic. And, finally, it has to leave you hanging. I would also call this the “shock and awe” factor, to borrow a Bushism. Something unexpected needs to happen, something that makes you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. Something that leaves you thinking, wondering what will happen to your beloved characters next season.

With that in mind, here is my take on four of the big ABC finales, in no particular order:

(1) Desperate Housewives
I’ll admit that I was not one of the faithful devotees of this show. Being a guy in his mid-twenties might have something to do with it, but I think it’s more fundamental than that. I found it sometimes entertaining, but at times a little too over the top and unbelievable. Too often, I think it used hyperbole where subtlety might have worked better. That being said, it was unique, well cast, and really had something for everyone (suspense! romance! scandal!). The writing also seemed to sharpen and become less soapy feeling as the season went along; usually the reverse is true. But the narration by Mary Ellis was consistently nauseating and stuck out like a sore thumb, right until the end. Overall, I’d give the show on the whole a solid B.

The season finale, I’d rate similarly, even though it obviously tried very hard to accomplish a lot. It just was not that fantastic. Revelations were made hastily, in a show where the pace was sometimes numbingly slow. And some of the big surprises were just not that surprising, even for someone, like me, who was not an avid viewer. I found myself having this “okay, so what?” feeling a lot, and that’s not something one should feel during a season finale. So, the episode didn’t feel like it fit the overall show—it felt like too much, like it was somewhat forced. Luckily, it redeemed itself by leaving you hanging not just on one or two threads, but leaving the fate of every major character genuinely up in the air. Because of that, and because I’ve heard that most fans were very satisfied and I feel the need to discount for this, I give the finale a B+.

(2) Grey’s Anatomy
I really enjoyed this mid-season replacement, when I thought I would hate it. The pilot didn’t overwhelm me, but it hooked me enough to make me want to watch more, and I’m glad I did. The regular episodes were surprisingly engaging, and managed to capture the wild vacillations between the good times and the tough times that everyone lives through. I liked the characters; a few of them, I even cared about. The chemistry seems authentic. Even the patients and medical subplots (which I usually find to be distracting in medical shows) fit in like nice puzzle pieces—they served a purpose, or taught a lesson, or just simply helped provide some transitions. Also, Desperate Housewives could take a lesson on how to do a decent voice-over from this show. For finally giving a voice and a setting to the stressful life of twentysomethings diving into the deep end of adulthood, I give this show an A-.

What kept it from earning a straight A were these weird, fluky moments when things just didn’t fit right. It typically happened in the first ten or last ten minutes. Either the music was wrong, or the dialogue felt really contrived, or there wasn’t even an attempt to segue between storylines. Unfortunately, the whole season finale was like this. A really lame running joke about syphilis, a patient with an ovary who it turns out is sterile, students doing an undercover autopsy, and then—gasp!!—the revelation that Mr. Perfect Mystery Man (the one that the main character is engaged in a serious love fest with) is married. Totally not consistent with the rest of the show, and didn’t really leave you feeling a sense of completion or a sense of wondering what might happen next. Ouch. Overall, and I’m being generous because of the shorter season, I give the episode a C+.

(3) Alias
This is the only veteran among the shows I’ve listed. I was definitely feeling it through the first two and a half seasons. All the goodness of the spy underworld (sweet gadgets and nifty get-ups), plus some major family and friends drama (“Francie doesn’t like coffee ice cream” still gives me chills to this day—if you don’t know what I’m talking about, watch the season two finale), and the undeniably likable Jennifer Garner (to be fair, others in the cast are great, too). But then this Rambaldi plot line started to bleed through more and more, and the show became increasingly inaccessible. I’ll admit that season three witnessed some growing pains, and that I kind of lost touch with my weekly viewing of it. And, despite a really fun season premiere, this season felt sort of uneven, too. Especially this one weird episode with a vampire undercurrent. O-kaaayyyy. But it improved toward the final episodes. Lena Olin returned (thank you!) as the imperious and enigmatic matriarch. More of the family drama stuff came back in, and there were fewer missions that left you really questioning what the point was of getting whatever device or serum was the flavor-of-the-week. Thankfully, Alias seemed to get most of that Rambaldi stuff out of its system, and I’m hopeful that next season will return more to the roots of the show. But still, this season felt for the most part like something only a loyal fan would be willing to get through, at least until the last few episodes, so I give the season (not the show) a B- with a prediction for a much-improved next season.

Now, the season finale presents a difficult problem. It was definitely consistent with the show, and it was definitely among the best two or three episodes of the season (maybe the best, I’ll have to wait for DVD to decide). However, the heart-pounding factor wasn’t quite as high as it could have been. I never bought into the giant red ball of death. But to the extent I could overlook the big conclusion of the Rambaldi prophecies, which was kind of “eh” after building over too many seasons, it was a fun, intriguing ride. And, a lot of stuff was satisfyingly resolved. In a lot of ways, it felt like the writers were trying to return us in a very natural progression to where we were midway through season two, with some juicy Mommy and Daddy issues firmly established and the partial redemption of an arch villain. But with fifty-eight minutes of the show elapsed, there was no big “wow” moment yet, and I was leaning toward giving the episode a satisfying B+. Then, the big “wow” finally arrived, at it was really, really well-done. Thank God that J.J. Abrams has figured out how to make our jaw drops. I refuse to do a spoiler here, but let’s just say that the “First of all, my name isn’t Michael Vaughn” line is right up there with the coffee ice cream comment, and that the last ten seconds provided as good a hook as any I’ve seen in years. Awesome. For the last scene alone, I bump up the finale to a solid A.

(4) Lost
So I lied earlier when I said that this list had no particular order—I clearly saved the best for last. At the outset, I should point out that I have never liked shipwreck or plane crash stories. Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, Lost in Space, and Cast Away just never hit me the way they did other people. But this show—this show is something special. I came really close to crying during one of the episodes (and I never do that). There’s the episode where Charlie gets over his drug addiction. There’s the episode where Boone dies. There’s the episode where we get the surprising back story on the Korean couple. The flashback technique doesn’t work often, but here it functioned perfectly and effortlessly. In fact, it made the show. That, along with good writing, solid acting, a clever understated soundtrack, and excellent pacing. Of course, this was J.J. Abrams, so there was plenty of mystery and suspense and oddity. Polar bears, unseen monsters, “the others,” a crazy French woman, this big white pod with a hatch that can’t be opened, a boy with potential psychic ability, etc. And even the staple of all trapped-on-an-island shows: raft building. But, miraculously, it all made sense, because there was such a strong, underlying current of humanity and emotion. Like I said, it almost made me cry a couple times. It wasn’t quite television perfection, but the first season of Lost ranks among the top three single seasons of any TV show in any genre that I’ve ever seen. Simply beautiful: A.

The season finale had a lot to live up to, therefore. My expectations were really high, especially since the last episode was a “Special Two Hour Event.” There were just a couple moments that I didn’t love. The flashback on Hurley’s attempts to catch the plane was a little overextended, despite providing needed levity. And the guy who literally blew up in the first ten minutes could have blown up a little sooner, in my opinion. But this is nitpicking. Overall, my expectations were met and surpassed. The last twenty minutes were especially sublime. A swell of hope followed immediately by a crushing defeat. The end of one mystery but the beginning of a potentially much bigger one. And my favorite moment: an extended montage—without words—that in a few minutes managed to bring an entire season of emotions full circle. A creative team that can make you care that much in one season about that many characters, especially in television, deserves high praise. As a stand-alone episode, I might give it just an A, but for being a true season finale to an already-outstanding show, it gets an A+.

Advice for your summer working at a law job

2005-05-26T00:09:00.000-04:00

Just sent the following to a 1L who is a summer clerk right now and was seeking advice, and I thought it was worth sharing with anyone out there who happens to be spending the summer in a law-related job:

I spent my first summer being a teaching/research assistant and taking classes, so I can�t say that I�ve had the same experience you�re having. But after getting some insight into how judges think, and how professors think, and spending a lot of time talking with my friends who have been summer clerks and summer associates, I can definitely think of a few things that might help you maximize your summer experience. A lot of the time, you will feel off balance, but maybe keeping the five things below in mind as sort of general goals will help you get your footing. It�s the approach I�ve taken to anything career-related, and those among my friends who have read it�and who have been through the summer clerk experience�give it a thumbs-up. Here goes:

(1) Hone your writing skills. Sure, it sounds redundant at this point, but you�ll be doing a ton of memos, court documents, and, maybe, drafts of briefs over the next several weeks. Summers are probably the one time during law school that you churn out a lot of work product consistently, so take advantage of it. Your writing ability basically decides what kind of doors open up for you during and after law school. Honestly, the one complaint I�ve heard from Judges and professors and some of the better lawyers is that most lawyers are too verbose. They think in terms of quantity�probably part of the �more is better� mentality from doing billable hours�and forget how to use plain language because they�re surrounded by other lawyers. As a result, some judges are known to actually rip off the last 20 pages of briefs from lawyers who they know are wordy (seriously). My first year legal writing professor gave me some great advice that actually works (how often does that happen?): every time you write something, reduce it by about ten percent, while keeping the same quality of content. If it�s long, take off at least a page. If it�s short, reduce it by a half page. You get the idea. After just a couple months of doing this, you�ll be surprised by the results.

(2) Learn to live without Lexis and Westlaw. Yes, it is possible, and the withdrawal symptoms are minimal. Maybe you�re at one of the bigger firms that pay tens of thousands of dollars for a use-it-all-you-want plan. And maybe you�ll get to work at one of these in the future, too. But, honestly, relying on the electronic databases can render even the most skillful of researchers surprisingly inefficient. Learn to use them only when absolutely necessary. Libraries�the real kind, with neat things like books�are really useful, and even the smallest firms have the necessities (state statutes and case reporters, civil procedure guides, etc.). The free internet�Google, Findlaw, a lot of government sites, and law journal websites, for example�is also really useful. Most importantly, people are perhaps the best research tool around, and you get the added benefit of building connections, which leads to the next tip�.

(3) Make connections, but let it be natural. Some people I know would balk at this advice. They seem to think that getting (or giving) the most business cards is a sport, and a very competitive one. I think this is a really bad tactic. Firms have their own social structure and hierarchy that you will learn to navigate, but at the same time they�re basically comprised of lots of different types of people. Lawyers come in all shapes and sizes, and you simply can�t click with all of them. Trying to be friends with someone with whom you obviously will never have a great relationship is pointless, and it�s more beneficial (and more fun) to focus your energy on building something really solid with a handful of people. These are the connections that yield letters of recommendation that are actually sincere and useful. These are also the connections that help you figure out what kind of lawyer you want to be, both in terms of practice area and in terms of your quality of life. As for everyone else, just be nice and polite and make a good impression. Lawyers are in the business of reading people, and they can smell it from a mile away when a law student is trying too hard.

(4) Don�t be afraid to ask. Of course, I could talk for several sentences about the importance of asking questions and how to properly go about it (because while there are few dumb questions, there are a lot of dumb ways to ask questions�like catching an associate after he�s come out of a bad meeting with the partner from hell). But, I think that discerning who, when and how to ask questions is just something learned from work experience, and it gets built into your on-the-job instincts. What I mean, instead, is not being afraid to ask for what you want. Remember that this is your summer, too, and that you are supposed to be enjoying it. If you would really like to do more X and Y, and you�ve been stuck with A, B, and C for weeks, then ask if that�s possible. Of course, be very tactful about it. Don�t complain about what you�ve been doing, don�t try to get out of something you�ve been assigned already, and don�t wait until the busiest day of the week to mention it. Basically, approach it like a lesser version of asking for a raise. Lawyers are sometimes so busy that they simply forget about the summer workers, and you can get stuck in a routine of basically clerical tasks very quickly.

(5) Do not, under any circumstances, let yourself become a grunt. No one wants to be a grunt, but it�s very easy for this to happen. Your supervising associate wants an order drafted in two days, the head secretary wants you to work on filing, and another associate runs into you and drops a memo in your lap due by Friday. And then there�s that meeting you need to sit in on this afternoon. And that trial you get to attend tomorrow morning. And that client interview the next day that you haven�t prepared for. These are all great experiences, and if you can handle a really full plate and still produce quality work, then more power to you. The funny thing is that when you�re being given stuff to do, it seems like the different people in the office don�t know what anyone else has already given you. As a clerk, you feel obliged to jump at every opportunity and agree to do whatever is asked of you, regardless of how much you already have on your schedule. But as soon as you drop the ball on one task (the memo with �no conclusion, and no real analysis,� the botched interview where you called the client the wrong name, the missed deadline), instantly the whole office knows about it, and you have to now work to rebuild your reputation. Obviously, don�t simply say �no� to a partner or your supervisor, but don�t let yourself be bootstrapped to unrealistic deadlines. Sometimes, it�s as simple as saying �could that deadline be moved two days? I�m working on something for random attorney down the hall�� It shows you�re on top of things, that you know how to prioritize. And it�s a lot better than coming in the day before something is due and asking for an extension.

The Job: Day Six

2005-05-23T18:07:00.000-04:00

Savvy readers will notice I skipped Day Five. This is because the only thing to note from Day Five is that Fridays are Casual Fridays, which I didn't know. Luckily, I opted for dress khakis and--because I'm creative--a blue shirt.

Today started with me finally settling on the calculation I would use (there are just about a million conceivable ways to arrive at an answer and still technically be within the ambit of the doctrine being applied). The best analogy I can think of is to imagine a porterhouse steak, and imagine that the restaurant has always charged $25 for it (I'm doing some Midwestern lowballing here). Now, the resturant decides to sell the strip cut and the filet mignon separately. The filet costs $20. But the strip by itself still costs $25! So the restaurant is getting a lot more just by splitting up the original steak. Doesn't seem right, does it? Now, one of the patrons who ordered the strip cut wants a reduction. The restaurant's position is basically that the strip should still cost about $23.50, because the filet was really not worth that much to the porterhouse cut. After you get a shovel and some boots, you explain that this doesn't make sense, because you're valuing the filet at way more than $1.50 on your own menu! The restaurant says that it isn't the actual cut of meat that's worth $20, it's everything that comes with the filet, and the special preparations done when the filet is served solo. Of course, the restaurant has no record of what the filet was worth back when it was serving the whole porterhouse. Stupid restaurant. The only numbers it has are what it's charging after the porterhouse was split up into the filet and the strip. Fortunately, it does have a record of what the sides and special preparations are worth, too (even though it didn't reveal this until you asked). As it turns out, the filet itself is worth $15, and the strip itself without all the fixins' is worth $20. So, in total, they're worth $35 currently, with the strip part worth 4/7 of this ($20/$35). Naturally, then, we must conclude that the strip steak is actually worth $25 times 4/7, or about $14. And this is what the patron should have to pay, because losing the filet portion clearly should have reduced the value by something. Right? RIGHT?!

I'm sure I went mad at some point....

In that most excellent frame of mind, and after once more skimming over the record, making sure my calculations per the above technique were right (of course, with a lot of extra complications and hurdles--the above is a major oversimplification), and chewing on a lot of Bic pens (one would think that I'm knocking a smoking habit the way I chew on pens and pencils), I finally felt confident that I could hammer out ye olde decision. It was surreal actually writing it, realizing that with a few alterations (hopefully, the Judge will change some things, just to put my mind at ease), this would be the real deal. Yeesh! But in three short hours (the afternoon really flies when you're actually producing something as opposed to just reading and taking notes, imagine that), it was finished. Well, relatively finished.

The problem is, I just have this gut feeling that I'm doing something fundamentally wrong in my calculations. Maybe it's the pressure of knowing that a lot of real money is involved. Maybe it's that voice of insecurity in my head that's always saying stuff like "are you sure you turned off the burner?" Maybe it's that I really, really (really) want to be affirmed on the inevitable appeal. Whatever it is, the result is that I'm sitting here with the numbers running through my head, wondering....(and thinking about how much I could really go for a nice medium porterhouse right about now. Mmmmmm, porterhouse.....)

2005-05-22T13:07:00.000-04:00

Is it possible for a guy to have paternal instincts? I guess it makes sense, right? Women have maternal instincts, talk about their biological clocks all the time, make this huge thing about getting married in time to have kids. It's understandable. They're on a time clock; guys clearly are not--a septuagenarian can still father a child, even if it's not the most responsible thing to do. Then again, having children shouldn't be a totally pragmatic consideration.

Today, I think some kind of paternal instinct kicked in for me. I was at Mass at the Cathedral, and the couple in the pew ahead of me had this little boy, probably not even two years old, and he had strawberry-blonde hair. He was the very quiet and curious type, looking around at everything, pointing, trying to name things with words that probably made perfect sense to him, even if they came out sounding like some language that only another two year old would get. I mean, who says a stained glass window shouldn't be called a "dlingit"? You could tell that in a couple months or less, he'll start saying things like Mom and Dad and ball and juice. So, of course I was fascinated with watching this. But then he turns around and looks right at me, and reaches out his impossibly tiny hand for mine, which was only a couple inches away because I had my feet up on the kneeler and my hands were on my knees. A couple years ago, this probably would have made me feel totally awkward, like one of those "what am i supposed to do?" moments. But today, I let him grab my hand. And then he wanted to grab the other one, and then try it with his other hand. The whole time, he's just looking at me and smiling and completely quiet. And I'm smiling back, and raising my eyebrows, and probably looking really goofy, because I've seen when my Dad did that with other people's kids, and I always thought he looked goofy. But really happy at the same time, like he was remembering what it was like when he was a new father.

Now, I've been around babies and toddlers before, but for some reason the thought that kept running through my head this morning was that could be my son. It just kept popping back into my head, accompanied by this big "wow" feeling. I mean, technically I could have been a father since about the time I was 15. I have friends who have children. This isn't something that I'm only thinking about now. I have thought about it before, but it was usually with a feeling of vague apprehension--the feeling that having someone call you Dad and being completely reliant on you would be overwhelming. That, and seeing really poorly behaved kids and really inept parents was always discouraging. Believe me, at Mass you see a ton of that.

But as I was thinking that could be my son, and probably looking a little thunderstruck by the whole idea, I started to slowly think I would be a good father. Like it was the most certain, obvious thing in the world. The weird thing is that the idea of marriage doesn't thrill me. I know that sounds strange, and it even does to me because I consider myself kind of a romantic, and one of those rare people who naturally leans toward monogamy. I think that I will probably be the type who just falls irretrievably hard for one person, and then if that didn't work out, that would be basically it. So, marriage isn't so much this thing I've felt like I need. I just never viewed it as a necessity. Naturally, this always led me to figure that I wouldn't mind just being a bachelor. Today, though, I realized for the first time that being a bachelor didn't just mean being without a wife, it meant not having children. And today, for the first time, that kind of bothered me.

The Job: Days Three and Four

2005-05-20T20:10:00.000-04:00

Days three and four were rather uneventful, so I'll summarize quickly.

Day three was "blue shirt day," as I mentioned earlier. I'm really amazed at the sheer variety of blue out there. Denim-look blue, navy blue, royal blue, wild-n-crazy tons of different blue-colored stripes blue, powder blue, French blue (which someone probably tried to call Patriot blue last year, and which probably should just be called "bleu" (?)), and then whatever color blue you would call the blue shirt I'm wearing in the picture a little ways down the screen. I really don't know what to call it. Here's a fun game: give that color a name. Because I can't call it my blue shirt, since I have a shirt that is much closer to the abstract notion of "blueness" than the one in the picture ever will be. [That sounded like my freshman philosophy survey class: "But is there a form of "chair" apart from the chair itself? What is the essence of chairness?" Really fun stuff...]

We were told where the kitchen, cafeteria, and supply closet were, since no one bothered to inform us of this. You need to go through two secured doors into another office area to get to the kitchen. Now, most office kitchens have Rules and Regulations, but this was thrillingly bureaucratic, so I must share. We were told (I paraphrase, but most of it is accurate): "this is the refrigerator; the top part is the freezer. The microwave is here. These are the coffeemakers. Use four scoops only. The Judges might want five; DON'T DO FIVE [apparently the world could end!]. If you want ice, take how many cubes you need; empty the rest into the bin in the freezer. And then refill it (!!!!); if you don't refill it, someone will hunt you down and hurt you. If you want to store something in the refrigerator, mark it with your initials if it's something that someone might think is theirs. Because we had some mix-ups with people drinking out of each other's diet cokes. [ewww, backwash] If it's something unique, don't worry, we don't eat each other's lunches. That's only happened a couple times by accident. ["wait, that was your mint-and-garlic lamb shank pita sandwich? whoops, my bad..."]. Don't keep used lunch containers at your workspace. The cubicle trash isn't always emptied, and we had one "itty bitty" [foot long]cockroach a couple months back." [Yeah, because cockroaches always travel solo.]

"The cafeteria is on the same level as the upper parking garage." Um. Why? Is it drive thru? Is it so you can get to the hospital quickly? Is it how the cows are brought in? Do the cows drive themselves in? Why? Why would a cafeteria be there? Just so you all know, before I left the kitchen, I said "So, just to double check, this is the refrigerator, right?" Luckily, the woman showing us around has a good sense of humor (I omitted her detailed description of her feelings toward cockroahes and her zeal when stepping on one--it was on par with the quality of an oral creation myth, very dramatic and funny stuff). She just yanked on my tie and said "I knew I was gonna have trouble with you." I told her that was an assualt and battery. She said I assumed the risk.

"There's also a snack and magazine vendor on the first floor. He's the sweetest man. He's blind." One of the other guys said (and I love that he did): "If he's really blind, how does he know what cash he's getting?" Response: "Well, he's not actually blind, he is sight impaired, though. But he really is just the sweetest man." And then my favorite: "Sometimes he takes breaks. When he's not there, he puts down the metal gate so you can't get in. That way you know he's not there. He's usually not gone long. But sometimes he is. Not usually, though."

Day four was less eventful. A lot of doing stuff. Imagine that. Met the one co-worker I hadn't met. Steve is a very amiable, helpful type. That makes it 100% good co-workers. I'm very, very lucky. He's been there a while, so he's more than willing to show newbies (like me) the ropes.

I found out that there are no manilla folders left! For the next couple days, we will be without folders. Wow. I mean, our supply closet is just chock full of neat stuff, but someone forgot the manilla folders. Somehow, I was still able to function. It was really hard, but I moved on.

I got to use the Other Copier Machine [insert scary music and evil laugh] because "ours" (the one that's only ten steps away) is getting scheduled maintenance or something. Suspiciously, the printer was also "out for maintenance" today. Interesting. I think there's something going on there--perhaps a steamy intra-office equipment affair has developed. The janitor's closet smelled of hot ink and toner this morning. (Okay, that was corny.) Anyways, as soon as I started using the other copier, someone showed up at my side seemingly out of nowhere: "You know the double-sided couple rule is still in effect?" "Um, yes, but these need to be made as single sided copies." "Oh, okay....Just do them double-sided whenever you can."

Later, I returned to the copy machine, to make more single-sided copies (I have to copy the various important parts of the record because I don't think anyone would really appreciate me writing my scritch scratch all over the originals). This time, someone different (and again out of thin air): "You know about the double-sided copy rule?" "Um, yeah." "Oh, okay."

Later, more copies to be made. This time, a big sign "THE DOUBLE-SIDED COPY RULE IS STILL IN EFFECT." Subtle. Warmed the cockles of my heart.

[Day five coming tomorrow morning.]

To give credit where credit is due...

2005-05-20T19:12:00.000-04:00

In case you hadn't heard, Revenge of the Sith exceeded all expectations and broke the single day and opening day box office all time records. I figure I should put something about it given the "poem" a few entries lower about how I won't see it (and I still won't :)). The film wasn't even released in as many theaters as Shrek 2 and Spider-Man or Spider-Man 2, and it opened on a Thursday, making its haul still more impressive. The four day weekend record held by Matrix Reloaded should fall (it was $134 million), but I think the three day Friday to Sunday record of Spider-Man ($115 million) will hold up. Just so all of you know, I love statistics on movies. Could you tell? I even have an account at this thing called Hollywood Stock Exchange (www.hsx.com); guess the name is pretty self-explanatory. No real money, but it was an interesting diversion last summer. (Remarkably, I still know next to nothing about the stock market. Anyone interested in pointing me to a good quick read about it?)

For anyone interested in all things box office related, the best site is linked to on your right (www.boxofficemojo.com).

The Job: Some Basic Comments

2005-05-19T16:41:00.000-04:00

Ahhhhhh.

That is the sound of someone who is very happy with his choice to not be a summer associate. I'm sure that the Big Firm experience is very formative (read: soul crushing) and unforgettable (read: scarred-for-life), but I knew it wasn't for me. Actually, I have a lot of admiration for anyone willing to endure OCI and spend his or her summer as a quasi-lawyer. And, I do think that with the right perspective--something this side of manically competitive--people can come back as 3Ls in August with a renewed sense of purpose and conviction. I'm definitely gunning for all my friends to have this result. They all are so desperate to succeed, and seem to feel that this and this alone will provide validation for pulling all-nighters and smiling throughout OCI. I hope they get what they're looking for, but more than that I hope they remember how to laugh about it all. I'm sure some of what happens in a world of six figures and 60th floor views must be funny, right?

As for what I'm doing. Well, I'm doing what you could basically call the anti-summer associate experience: I'm a government extern/clerk at the state Tax Tribunal. Big money? Nope. In fact, when you account for gas and parking, and the couple of dress shirts I bought, I'm actually losing money (guess I'll make up for it by double-punching the hours at my other job--now I'm thinking like a lawyer!). Instead, I get three credits, and since I'm on scholarship, I guess that the law school is technically paying itself to give me a work experience. Interesting. Big, luxurious high rise office? Well, the building has four floors, which is high by government office building standards, right? Luxurious? Hmmm...we do have a lot of cubicles. Actually, the big marble foyer with the elevators is okay. Oh, and you need your electronic security tag to get in and out of basically every door. Sort of James Bond feeling, but more, uh, bureaucratic. Power suits? Yeah, we've got that. Power lunches? That would be a no.

Obviously, very different from what most of my peers are doing, but even in this first week I'm finding it to be pretty cool. From what I've seen, government lawyer life isn't too shabby. Sure, you won't be owning three houses and a Jaguar anytime soon, and you won't be doing four course lunches at House of Small, Delicious Gourmet Things Beautifully Plated. But, you get normal hours (8 to 6 at worst, and honestly it looks like 9 to 5 is more typical). You get decent pay. At least, good enough for my standards. And in tax, you make about ninety cents on every dollar earned by your firm counterparts (at least, that's the way it is in Michigan). The atmosphere is fairly laid back, too. The other law students I work with are super-friendly (well, to be fair the one guy seems a little competitive, but it's obviously not a trait that's well-liked in that setting). The lawyers are friendly. Heck, the Judges are so friendly and human you wonder how you ever found them intimidating.

The best part, though, is the actual work. If you're a good enough student to have actually become a summer associate at one of the Big Firms, and instead decide to work for government, you seem to be put on a fast track to the best assignments. Sort of a little thank you for giving up a summer making $20,000. You get to work on a near-daily basis with a judge. You get to write decisions, draft motions, research complex issues, and meet with lawyers. It's a ton of work, but it feels like you're in the middle of the action without getting too caught up to forget just how cool it is to be doing that kind of stuff. You don't feel like you have to compete with your co-workers, because there will be no offers at the end of the summer. If you eventually want to work for a firm, the firm knows that you have an inside edge. And if you stay in the government ranks, then you have an advantage there too. Maybe this glowing review is because I'm still in the honeymoon period, or maybe miraculously I'll continue to get to do things I actually enjoy doing for the rest of the summer.

So, overall, you still get some of that whole "what shade of blue dress shirt do I wear today?" experience (yesterday all seven male externs wore blue; today, we all overcompensated in the other direction and wore white); it feels somewhat like a law office. You still get to hone your legal research and writing skills, and you still have a lot of work product to show for your effort. The pros are easy, flexible hours, a more laid-back atmosphere, good exposure to a different side of the law, and great contacts (getting a recommendation letter from a Judge is pretty much priceless). The cons are little or no money, no exposure to Big Firm life (obviously), and no job secured for after graduation. Also, no fab social events, no free lunches (not that there is such a thing...), and no chance to bed a partner. Unless you have a lot of extra time and energy on your hands (no euphemism intended). And, I'm sure some people are simply the aggressive, go-getter type, who thrive on Apprentice-style competition. I just don't, and I know that I probably would lose a little of myself if I worked in a firm. I know that I'd "take it home" every night, because that's the kind of person I am. For any 1Ls or soon-to-be law students out there, my advice would be to at least keep this option open.

Sith Poem

2005-05-17T21:43:00.000-04:00

(Just to keep my string of awful blog post titles going...)

With all the Revenge of the Sith talk going on, I wanted to write a quick Seussian poem on why I will not, under any circumstances, be doling out any cash to see it in any format. Low quality, but I'm trying:

I will not watch Revenge of the Sith
Even after drinking a fifth*
I would not watch it here or there,
I would not watch it with Britney Spears (-Federline),**
I could not, would not at AMC
I will not, will not at NCG
I will not watch it with THX
I will not watch it, despite special FX
I will not watch even the final coda
I will not, will not despite a mad cool Yoda
I will not watch for the rising of Vader,
I would not, could not, 'cause the better movies come later (earlier? whatever...)
I will not rent it on DVD
I won't watch in ten years when it comes on TV
I will not watch Revenge of the Sith,
Regardless of fun people I could go with.

Sorry George :)
*although, if I were the type to do that, it might make it more watchable...
**ok, so I wouldn’t watch anything with her, obviously

Regarding the job posts....

2005-05-17T20:28:00.000-04:00

As my sister just pointed out, the job posts (and some of the other posts) have some typos. Sorry. I write them very, very quickly, and unfortunately I am not a superior typist. Nor do I desire to proofread my own blog. I'll try to be more careful in the future, really (yeah, sure I will).

[She also just informed me, 'cause she's nice like that, that posting something like this will only make me seem more neurotic than I already do on my blog. Gee, there goes my carefully maintained reputation for being a cool guy:) ]

The Job: Day Two

2005-05-17T19:55:00.000-04:00

The first day at any job is kind of awkward. It's exciting, everything is sort of different, and time seems to pass very quickly as you absorb all the newness. The second day, though, is where you really get a feel for what the particular job will be like. I guess it's like dates or kisses--talk about a tenuous analogy, huh?

Anyways, that trend was bucked somewhat today. After learning about populating templates (see the Day One post, I refuse to describe it again), and drafting motions, and the other various quasi-clerical duties, I discover that I will only be doing that sparingly. So today was sort of like another first day. You see, I met my judge, and was given a ton of really interesting stuff to do. And, yes, I mean that with sincerity (for once :)).

He's a pretty cool guy, as I've found most judges are underneath all the seriousness. Very seasoned, very intellectual, but a little, I don't know, laid back. He seems to have this Zen perspective regarding his career and life almost--one of those people who commands instant respect, and around whom you're inclined to just sit and listen and occasionally nod, without feeling like an idiot. He actually was one of the three who interviewed me, so I guess he liked something.

After asking me if I was interested in working on any particular thing or in a certain area, and my response that I didn't really have a preference, given my lack of knowledge about property tax matters, he gave me my first assignment. And, I have to say, it's sort of intimidating, but in one of those "oh my God I can't believe I get to do that" kind of ways: he wants me to write his decision on a remand from the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals. He described the basics of the case to me (all a bit over my head, but I figure the learning curve is steep for everyone), then handed me THE FILE. The monstrosity deserves all caps, because it's about eight inches thick, give or take a yard. It's just chock full of stuff, and he says "skim it over the next couple days, get familiar with all of it, you know." I've mentioned on here before that I have basically no poker face most of the time, but I think I gave the perception of confidence. Maybe that's a typical file, I don't know. He wants the decision to him around next Tuesday, so that will be filling my waking hours for a while. And he was very direct that the final product be concise (four pages), so I'll have to get my legal writing chops (i.e. my non-verbose, non-blog-like skills) back in working order. If I write the decision according to the remand, and presumably it's appealed again, then I'll be able to put on my resume that I had a case opinion that I wrote affirmed by a federal court of appeals.

Needless to say, I'm still experiencing a little shell shock over the whole prospect, but I figure I'll be able to start feeling somewhat more comfortable at some point. Hopefully.

After that task is complete, I might get assigned to work on this huge agglomeration of cases related to a certain ginormous chemical company. I guess it depends on my performance with the first assignment. Overall, I'd grade today as: sweet.

[Days three and four might be a bit boring, since I'll be holed up in "the pit" basically the whole time working--it's one of my co-workers nickname for the tribunal's mini-library, and it stuck for me.]

Quick Observation

2005-05-16T23:49:00.000-04:00

Okay, maybe I'm alone in this, but why is it that about one week after changing my bed linens (yes, I did just use the phrase "bed linens"), the sheet is always shifted over to one side, while the two blankets are always shifted to the other side? The overall effect is that on the side I sleep on (I have a double bed), there is basically a ton of sheet, and no blanket. And so I squirm and shift and roll and flip, but nothing fixes it. Until half an hour later, I actually have to get up and pull the sheets and blankets out and then readjust them. Only to have the same problem crop up a week later. I don't get it. It's one of the great mysteries of my life, right up there with trying to figure out how to move my radio without having to unplug it and losing all the radio station presets.

This is probably more than you ever wanted to know....

The Job--Day One

2005-05-16T22:52:00.000-04:00

There were no candy-apple red Swingline staplers in sight. But this most recent employment experience could definitely be called "Office Space-lite." The cubicle atmosphere is in full force: I'd have to leave my desk to see if a tornado were coming, for example. And if I brought a feng shui master in to see what could be done--well, let's just say he would probably have a nervous breakdown.

Physical imperfections aside, though, the people seem really nice. I'm not just saying that because I know people have been fired for making unkind comments on blogs about their places of employment and coworkers. They all were very friendly, both the group of law clerks (many of whom I know from law school already, like Andrew, Drew, Nick, and Nina), and the secretaries, and the "higher-ups" as I like to call them--i.e. the lawyers, judges, chief clerk, and chairman. Actually, I didn't really speak to anyone (beyond a simple "hello, I'm Tom, I'm here to be your slave" pleasantries) except the one secretary who was responsible for inducting (orientating, whatever the p.c. term is) the group starting in the afternoon, and the two guys who were in that group with me. Andrew was one of them, and he's one of the more quality people from my class, which is saying a lot. Always genuine and sincere, plus a hard worker, and he has a son who is learning piano, which means I have someone I can talk about music stuff with once in a while. The other guy--Beau--was from Cooley Law School, the other law school in Lansing. Smart guy, at least on first impression, and very easy to get along with, which is important considering we have adjoining cubicles on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for the whole summer. I actually feel like I'm working down south, just based on the names: Marijo, Beau, Nina, Val, Valissa. I'm expecting a BethAnne to arrive soon.

As for what I actually did. Obviosuly, I won't get into heavy details, partly because that would be boring, and partly because that would be unprofessional. I mean, confidentiality is just presumed. But I can give the basics (kind of like talking about confession when you're Catholic, haha). Today, and most of this week, at least until I'm assigned a judge, I "populated templates." It sounds so sci-fi, doesn't it? A little dystopic, even. I can just hear some steely robot voice saying "prepare the specimens for template population." Ooooo. Creepy. Or biblical: "And God said 'Go forth, be fruitful and populate templates.' Oh, and eat the fishes of the sea, too." Anyways, what it amounts to is that we get an appeal from a party as to some kind of tax decision--property, agricultural, exemptions, etc.--and before a hearing is held, we have to fill in the proper template with all the requisite information. It looks just like any judgment order when finished, with docket number and all that. And then we describe all the evidence presented and the contentions made by both sides. It basically prepares every aspect of the judge's opinion except for the actual opinion and findings of fact and law made by the judge.

The other major task is drafting motions. There are more types of motions than there were tribes of Israel (which means at least 13, which isn't a lot, but I thought I'd throw another Old Testament reference in just for fun). Drafting motions, to be honest, is a lot of responsibility in certain situations. I mean, you're basically the first line of defense in deciding the disposition of a case. Will it be dismissed? Can it be amended? Doesn't sound too dramatic, but today Beau got to review and basically give his recommendation on a Motion for Dismissal. When you consider the value of the property underlying the motion, it's pretty intimidating stuff. Luckily, it's all reviewed by at least a couple people, but still--you just don't learn that in detail in law school. For any laypeople reading this and freaking out, don't worry. It's double and triple checked before a decision is made, and, besides, us students is all real smart folk. We ain't no dummies, ya know.

Those are the main things that I'll do in my down time. But once I get my judge (it seems wrong to use a possessive pronoun there, but oh well) I'll be getting to do memos and all sorts of wonderful what-not. The kind of stuff that makes resumes look pretty.

I also have a nifty ID tag with my mug on it that says "State Contractor." It's a horrible, horrible picture--I have the expression that a beaver probably has after getting laid or dropping acid or both, this weird sort of cross between sleepy and eager. Not that I've ever seen a real beaver, much less one in that condition, even on the National Geographic channel, but I can imagine. [On a tangent, I did see two deer about twenty feet from my bedroom window tonight, and I don't live in a rural area, so how freaky is that? And me without my carrots...]

I wish I could bring you some more funnies from work, but everyone is just too normal, at least on the first day. And we were all terribly productive. I guess that's why we each were hired, go figure. At my last cubicle-esque job, there were whole tracts of time spent talking about how the coffeepot needed cleaning, or learning new things about the copier (like why copiers--logically--don't allow double-sided overhead transparencies). I'm sure we'll all become a little less proactive over time, though, and all of our various idiosyncracies will bloom over the coming weeks. For your sake, I hope they do. Or I could just start making stuff up.

"Hello Angels" "Hello Charlie!"

2005-05-16T20:05:00.000-04:00

in case you didn't know, I'm second from the right :)

Yeah, it was a bad joke, but when I first got this picture on my email, that was my first thought. And it's my way of giving props to the lovely ladies in the picture, even though a Charlie's Angels reference is a little sexist, and not very gentlemanly. But I'm a lovable goof that way, and they would find it amusing, believe me. I won't put names to the faces, because they didn't give permission. The names begin, from left to right, with S, G, K, and R. If you can guess them, you'll earn a prize: impressing me, which is not easily achieved. Oh, aren't I funny...

I realize I don't post many blog pictures (goes along with the whole self-conscious thing), and I don't plan to all the time, but I don't have many pictures of me with friends. Either I forget my camera, or I forget to ask for a picture. And I'd like to have evidence somewhere that I do in fact have a social life, so this one seemed like a good one to post.

Not much else to say on this post. More tonight about my first day at the Tax Tribunal, and my Mortgages class, which is pretty fantastic. I know you're all waiting with baited breath (or whatever that expression is...)

I love my suit too much

2005-05-16T00:30:00.000-04:00

The Michigan tourism bureau tries hard, they really do, even though being surrounded by natural beauty and tons of water doesn't require a lot of extra effort. I mean, they did come up with the unforgettable "Yes! Michigan! campaign--talk about a catchy slogan. And so wonderfully optimistic for the late '80s. After all, they could have gone with the simple "No! Wisconsin!" or "Maybe! But not so much! Ohio!"

But Michigan is missing out on a huge selling point: the reward of shopping in Canada (specifically Toronto). If you hit it at the right time of year, the exchange rates are favorable, the lines at the border are short or non-existent, and the lure of being able to trade in the GST rebate for hard liquor, cigars and stuffed animals at the duty free shop is inescapable. Okay, scratch that last one. I usually just get a souvenir shot glass or something.

What does this all have to do with my suit? You guessed it--I bought my beloved suit in Canada. It's a three-button, charcoal grayish Jones New York model (I can't really describe colors that well, but I know I like it). Fits like a glove, and it only needed to be hemmed. Just plain perfect in every way. And it only cost $350, which is a real steal. I know I'm gushing, but of the three suits I own, it's the only one that makes me feel confident when I wear it. Sad that clothes can buoy my self-esteem like that, but I don't think I'm unique in being that way. You can't exactly feel like a go-getter in jeans and a t-shirt. Unless you're a landscape architect perhaps. I probably sound unequivocally materialistic, too, but I really am not. I rarely go shopping, and I never go bargain hunting. I mean, who wants to take time for that. If I really like something, and I can afford it, and I think it's practical, I get it. Simple as that. (Canada was also where I found my favorite sandals, which have lasted six years.)

Before signing off on this post, I would like to point out that I've never actually been on a shopping trip to Canada. It just always seems to be a subsidiary thing. I'm not big into museums (I'm a guy who actually got bored at the Smithsonian--at least the Air and Space part--and the Field Museum in Chicago). And art galleries--well, they're just so hit and miss (I remember one painting of a grapefruit with an eye--I figure it was trying to say "Citrus. It's watching out for you...") But it's fun to just go to a department store, or even a grocery store. Not that things are all that different in Canada, but still....

Harumph...

2005-05-13T23:11:00.000-04:00

Man, after having my brain literally humming with activity during finals period, and then getting through the interview, and the post-exam parties....I'm going through a HUGE let down. I don't really want to do anything, but at the same time I know that I can't just laze around the apartment all day, dreaming up things to cook, drawing blueprints, working on Chopin Etude fingerings, playing solitaire. God, this sucks, this being stuck in the middle between boredom and just not having the gumption to pick myself up and accomplish anything.

I think it's because I know what's coming down the pipe. My classes (ack) start Monday morning. I'm taking Mortgages because it's the only class in which I'm interested that actually had seats open. So much for taking Advanced Real Estate Law (or whatever that class is called), which I would have liked to take, but oh well. I took Mortgage Banking Law last summer, so maybe this is the continuation of some sort of disturbing trend. "Spend your summer having a constant reminder of debt! Oh joy!" Well, the prof is supposed to be good. And a few friends are in the class with me. It shouldn't be too painful. The job starts Monday afternoon. I'll work Monday and Wednesday afternoons (the days I have Mortgages) from 2 to 5 (probably until 5:30, to avoid the traffic congestion), and then mornings from 9 to 12 the rest of the week. Overall, a decent schedule. And in my spare time, when I'm not grading briefs for my research assistant job, who knows. Probably stuff with the Journal will crop up.

It will officially be my busiest summer ever, and I'm hoping that being busy will mean I don't do what I'm doing this week, which is nothing. Honestly, I should be catching up on emailing, or blogging, or reading. I'm not the most well-read person, at least not by my standards, but upon perusing my collection I realized that I couldn't talk myself into reading anything. I haven't read a full book since finishing the Lord of the Rings trilogy last year--that's some dry spell. This, from a guy who likes to read. Obviously, that likely won't change this summer. I think I'll just be so occupied that I won't have a lot of downtime for growing as a person.

You know what I'm determined to do this summer, though? I'm determined to take the vacation out east that I've been planning to do for a couple summers now. I haven't told anyone of these plans, because I don't usually reveal my ambitions until I'm pretty sure something will come from them. I've only been to Washington, D.C. twice: once in eighth grade for the National Spelling Bee (which is its own story), and once in tenth grade for what was basically an international science consortium that had a really long acronym (and one that clearly is not memorable to me). Honestly, I just don't feel like D.C. counts. I want to see NYC and Boston, and this year my finances seem to be in order (i.e. I have some extra money--how did that happen?), and I should--should--have a couple weeks free in July/August. The Tribunal is flexible, or so they say, and classes end in early July. One of my better friends (hi Tanisha) from law school is working near NYC this summer at a prosecutor's office, so I could visit her (hopefully she'll not have become too aggressive by that point). I know another old undergrad friend (hi Amanda) getting married in Boston (despite being from Topeka, she'll fit the big city life quite well I think). And maybe I'll drop in on Jeremy, and see how life as a professional writer really is. Or his interpretation of it, at least. I was originally planning to go by way of Montreal, since that's where Dad went to school, and if this somehow worked out as a family trip (weird, the concept of a family trip at this age, but I'm big on family), he would be rightfully thrilled to see his old stomping grounds. Mom always enjoyed trips to St. Louis for that very reason. Plus, it's Montreal. Maybe I could test out those couple years of French I took in college....

Overall, a wonderful way to spend some money at least part of which is funded by the federal government. So, thank you federal government. Hopefully the Stafford Loan people have better things to do than read blogs (?).

I guess this blog post that started out as a paean to boredom ended on a positive note, so that's good. Surprising how often I can ramble myself out of an off mood.

End-Of-The-Year Party!!

2005-05-11T22:34:00.000-04:00

Who wouldn't want to blow off post-exam stress by going to a drunken orgy and just losing yourself in a pulsing, thobbing throng of careless, drunken humanity? Me, that's who. I'm not a tee-totaller (is that even spelled right?). I don't feel some moral superiority to the people who need to "lose themselves," who need to just "go out and get s&%^faced." Yes, I actually am quoting, because I don't know the lingo. The weird thing is, I thought I was going to the big law student party at The Dollar (named that because--I don't know, something to do with the price of longnecks maybe). It was on my mental agenda. And not to drink, not even to really watch people get drunk, but just to make my appearance, say "hey, wassup, how'd exams go blah blah blah yada yada" and then say my goodbyes. However, first on the agenda was a post-exams dinner/quasi-birthday party (quasi because the actual birthdays being celebrated are forthcoming) with some of my more temperate friends. It was very laid back, good conversation, and held at The Post, which was nicely vacant for a night like tonight, when each hot spot in town was hosting its own destressing festivities. And the best part, I think, was that no one put up a front. We all admitted to being tired. People yawned and rubbed eyes. Exams were tough, the semester was tough, life was tough. But we survived, and rather than wrack our physical selves with alcohol and noise and who knows what else, we all had enough sense to know that maybe, just this once, we could admit that we were a little beyond that. The fact that I was the only single guy there was a little disconcerting--the fact that I could actually become involved in most of the conversation was, too.

Overall, a very good time. Relaxing, nice, sincere. All those good things. Elvira came along, too, since she deserves the post-exam destressing as much as us law students (and she fits in remarkably well with all my friends--just that kind of person who fits in anywhere, except maybe an AARP convention, and even then she'd find something to talk about...). We were going to head to The Dollar afterwards, but I realized that I didn't need to, and that was very freeing, that realization that I didn't care about seeing any of the people there. They'd all be too out of it to remember anyways. Suddenly I didn't want to try to be something I'm not.

But for as good as everything was--and it was--when I first came home from the dinner, I couldn't help but think, however, that something was missing. And this bothers me. I guess I'm guilty of overanalyzing everything, but this time my feelings seem valid. I just--I don't know. I get along with G, S, R, and K just fine. Something changed in the dynamic, though. It's like the difference between a summer day in early June and one in late August. The latter has a hint of autumn in it--and you know something is coming to an end. All the data points to the fact that the temperature is the same, and the sun is shining just as bright, but something is different. Something. And it's real. Maybe it's just me. Maybe my perspective has changed, or maybe my friends are different. Can that much really change in a couple months, though? I don't know, but it bothers me. I walked away from the get-together tonight feeling a nagging sense of melancholy, of not-quite-rightness, and I just don't know why. A sense of things pulling apart somewhat. I guess all I can hope for is that they'll all change at the same time and we'll arrive back together at the same point in the end.

Making Good on My Promise

2005-05-11T22:28:00.000-04:00

A random quote from SuperNanny, because I couldn’t find the remote and forced myself into watching it: “Putting Adam to sleep was really difficult.” I guess you know you’re having trouble with the kids when you have to resort to that.

As promised several days ago, the first of my “2L in a Nutshell” entries. I originally thought I’d devote each of these posts to a certain subset of things, like music, or people, or experiences, etc. But life is much more random than that, so I’ll be random, too.

(1) Lost, Grey’s Anatomy, and the overall renewed vitality of ABC—
I don’t get the premium channels, so I don’t know if The Sopranos is all it’s cracked up to be. I don’t know if Deadwood is just that good. What I do know, is that I like it when the regular old networks produce quality stuff. I won’t pretend that their full slate is good. I’m rather neutral about Desperate Housewives, for example. I guess it’s an inability to relate to any of the characters. The Bachelor is just a load of dead weight that should have been removed a while ago. And I’ve grown weary of Alias, even though I still watch, expecting something to match the excitement and interest of that season that ended with the big fight between Sydney and Francie. Here’s a tip: lose the whole Rambaldi subplot. Whenever I hear the guy’s name, I take a bathroom break. But I love Lost, so J.J. Abrams has redeemed himself somewhat. When it’s really on, it’s excellent and moving, and when it’s off, it’s still tolerable—which is more than can be said for many shows. And I’m impressed with Grey’s Anatomy. I can match each of the characters to friends I actually have, and until I write the first great law school drama, this provides an excellent proxy for how law school and being a twentysomething feel sometimes. Sometimes. Except for all the sex, in my case at least, but I’m sure for most people that is the reality. Again, it can be off at times, but even then it remains entertaining and highly watchable. Well-acted, decently-written, and fun escapism for a Sunday night.

(2) Professor Campbell and the Estates and Future Interests Drafting Seminar—
Every law student should have the good fortune to have a class like this. An enrollment of just twelve students, three hours once a week, and a wise, old professor who readily imparted not only his legal knowledge but his knowledge of the profession and, dare I say it, life. In the beginning, it was a pressure cooker—Socratic method applied in a class that small can be intimidating. But eventually the pressure became formative, even fun. I left that class feeling a little more confident, a little more—grown.

(3) Getting a 28 Hand in Cribbage—
I discussed this more in one of my early entries, but if you’ve ever played the game, you’d understand why it deserves the extra attention. So, I guess you can read that entry if you want the details. Simply outstanding.

(4) The Spartans’ Double Final Four—
Again, another reference to earlier stuff. But any basketball fan—any sport fan for that matter—can appreciate how cool it is to have two teams progress so far. It would have been nice to win the whole shebang, a la the UConn Huskies last year. In Spartan land, though, basketball is king, and any achievement in that arena is outstanding.

(5) The Elevated Train Scene in Spider-Man 2—
Yeah, I’m a glutton for mass media, right? Actually, if it’s good mass media, then yes. There was a ton of stuff packed into this movie, and I can’t really contemplate what could be done in the third to top it; not that movie sequels should be about “topping,” but generally it’s nice to have a consistent quality level across a series of movies. I felt the movie started unevenly, but the elevated train scene—if you need more description of it, then you probably didn’t see the movie—was the best scene hands down in a superhero movie that I’ve seen. And I’ve seen just about every mainstream superhero movie. Nothing offered in Batman, Superman, X-Men, and the like even came close. Spider-Man 2 raised the bar, and I sincerely doubt it will be topped, although I’m hopeful that bar can be met a few more times.

(6) Finding my Study Spot in the Law School—
I’m a study at home guy. I don’t like studying in the library, I don’t like studying in the “study lounge” (talk about an oxymoron). If you have the luxury of not living in a dorm, then you really don’t need to leave to study. And the apartment I live in is nice. But I’m still at the law school a lot, more than I’d like to be sometimes, and for the entire first year and a half I never found a good niche. Everyone else seemed to have his or her spot staked out, and if you were looking for that person, you knew where to go. A vacant third floor classroom here, a certain library carrel there. Well, I finally found mine. And I would divulge it, but I don’t want anyone else taking it. I will say that it’s nice and cold and by a set of windows, but there’s about a dozen places matching that description in the building, so my spot is still safe I think. Yes, I am just that possessive J.

(7) Getting Over (Somewhat) My Fear of Speaking in Class—
You wouldn’t think after knowing me a while that I’d have a problem with this. I mean, honestly, it seems so pathetic—like such an unnecessary crutch. I’ve played the piano in front of a thousand people, and yet I get more nervous briefing a case in front of a hundred people I know. Totally inexplicable, but anyone who has had to deal with this understands just how scary it can be. This year, I finally got over it a bit, and that makes me very happy. My heart still pounds some when my name is called by a professor, but the reaction is more biological now than mental, so that’s a relief.

(8) Madeleine Peyroux’s “Between the Bars” (from the album Careless Love)—
Whoa. This is the kind of song that just….haunts you. Not happy, not really sad, just haunting. It swirls and circles around your mind, long after playing it, and you won’t regret having it stuck there. I’m not even sure what it means, although I think it’s about alcoholism, and I’ve heard pieces of it in other songs. The whole is definitely greater than the sum of the parts, though—the modulations, the instrumentation, and her voice (which is eerily reminiscent of Billie Holiday) combine into something unique. Many of the other songs on the CD are good, too, but that one is exceptional. If I ever am lucky enough to make the kind of movie that I imagine all the time, this song would have a place in it.

That’s all for now. It’s harder than I thought to write these kinds of entries. My memory isn’t as crisp as I had hoped, and some things that really meant a lot are things that I just don’t feel comfortable sharing on my blog. At least not yet. We’ll see…

Life Is Great...

2005-05-09T21:53:00.000-04:00

I'm riding a little wave of euphoria right now, even though it's been ten hours since the BEST INTERVIEW OF MY LIFE!!

I interviewed today at the Tax Tribunal, with two of the Judges and the Assistant Chairman, and I must have done something right. They really seemed to love me, and I had really good answers for everything even though I hadn't taken any time to prepare. It was like being in the zone or something. I was nervous, and still dead tired from my back-to-back exams (I take a while to bounce back), and I just couldn't make myself care enough to go online and research what they do, or prepare my answer to the "What are your three faults?" question that is always asked (it wasn't, amazingly).

Instead, I just donned my suit and winged it, and maybe that's why everything turned out so well. On my way out, as the Assistant Chairman was leading me through the maze of hallways (I expected to see a big hunk of swiss cheese at the end--the place is rather labyrinthine), I heard the one judge say to the Chairman, about fifteen feet in front of me in the hallway "I want him hired, now." Then, the Judge notices I'm down the hallways, points me out to the chairman, and the chairman simply says "You want the job?" And I say sure (that was easy). And he says "You're hired. Kathie will give you the paperwork."

That definitely goes down as record turnaround time from being interviewed to getting hired. It felt almost like a movie. It really did. I start Monday, and I'll probably still be riding a high by then.

The coolest part about the job is that I get to work directly with one of the judges (I'm guessing it will be one of my interviewees, which would be most excellent). Who would have thought I could be this stoked about working at a place called the Tax Tribunal :)

Happy Mother's Day

2005-05-09T21:42:00.000-04:00

I doubt I could say anything about mothers that has not been said already. Besides, I don't know if I can generalize about mothers very well. They come in just about every conceivable variety, and I really only have experience with one type: mine. So, I'll just write a brief note for her, and hope that it bears some meaning for others:

Dear Mom, thank you--

For teaching me that goals are something to envision,

but that dreams are something to embrace;

For reminding me to treat myself well,

but to treat others better;

For letting me know that I could always come home,

but that I was strong enough to survive when away;

For introducing me not just to the wonder of the world,

but also to the wonder within myself;

For encouraging my true gifts and abilities,

but never discouraging even my most fanciful pursuits;

For guiding me through sadness when needed,

but toward happiness always;

For being a mother,

but most of all just for being Mom.

"2L in a Nutshell"

2005-05-07T23:17:00.000-04:00

School’s out for the summer. Even as an adult (or something very much like an adult, I hear the term twixter is being used now, whatever that means), I still love knowing that school is finished for another year. Summers are now filled with work and commitments and responsibilities, but everything still seems a little less severe during those three months. One could argue that this is the summer’s natural effect: it’s warm and the sun is shining and the beautiful people are unburdened by all that bulky winter clothing. These are good things, so naturally we feel good. But I think this seasonal euphoria is heightened because we’re conditioned from our youths to know that summer means vacations and endless cavorting with neighborhood friends. Summer means reading all those books we want to read (like that third grade summer spent reading fifty Hardy Boys’ mysteries), instead of what we have to read for classes (like that generic science book with the gecko on the front). Summer is barbecues and lemonade and trips to Lake Michigan and fireworks, but this is all made infinitely sweeter knowing that it is our time to not have to deal with school.

Why all this nostalgic rambling? Because as much as I love summer—as much as I have a ton of fond memories of early morning bike rides and grass between my toes, and as much as I love knowing that the worst of the school work is over—I think I’ve also grown to have a real fondness for school. When you grow up in a small town, most of your friends stay for the summer, and so the arrival of summer simply means the loss of responsibility. But in college, and even more in law school, summer means migration. It means that the little world you were so immersed in for nine months suddenly—poof!—vanishes.

So I decided that I would make an attempt to memorialize all the people and things that have been important to me in this past year, to pay tribute to my year as a 2L. It will probably span several entries, and last through the next few days, maybe even a week. And I’m not sure if it will be of any appeal to anybody. But I’ve always regretted not being better about this sort of thing—I have a load of journals at home in which just the first several pages are used. A few names here, a few experiences there. But the rest is all floating around in the ether of my memories, which are always subject to fading. Terrible, really.

**A caveat before I start: of course, I’m not going to put in the basic things, like family, God, etc. Obviously, some things are just important inherently. And if you read this and know me and wonder why something didn’t make the list, and feel it should have, then I guess I’m sorry, but this isn’t exactly People magazine J.

For want of a better title, I’m going to call this year’s list:

“2L in a Nutshell”

Because I'm a procrastinator, and a tired one to boot, it will start tomorrow....

FINALLY DONE!!!!!

2005-05-07T12:01:00.000-04:00

That's right, I just finished my last exam. I think I did ok over all. I guess I'll know in a couple weeks. Aren't you all happy that you don't have to hear anymore about my exams? Honestly, I'm glad to be able to get back to having a life outside of academic pursuits, at least for a week :) Then summer classes and a summer job (if the interview on Monday goes well at the tax tribunal). I'll write much more tonight or tomorrow, depending on when my brain feels like staring at a computer for a couple hours would be a good thing. There's this great speech by Maya Angelou from my sister's graduation convocation that I'll have to remember to post.

One last quick thing, before this absolutely pointless post ends: thanks to the people who've sent me emails, including : tb (the lawyer), tb (my bud), js, mj, mr, ml, and se. I'm too tired to write full names, seriously. And thanks to those who have commented. Hopefully you'll stay faithful despite the lapse in quality material. To anyone contemplating dropping me a line: I do respond, especially now that exams are over.

Maybe I'll go do a snoopy dance in celebration. Would that be too juvenile??

Exam Update + A Top Ten list

2005-05-02T20:56:00.000-04:00

Because I can, and because it's all that is going on in my life right now, and I'm totally not kidding about that, here's a brief update on exams, followed (hopefully) by some lighter fare. Just finished Basic Income Taxation A, and I think I might have failed it. I'm not exaggerating here. I tend to underestimate my own abilities academically a lot of times; this is not one of those times. This is a new experience for me, and one I hope to never have again. Amazing, that I can walk out of my last exam feeling downright jubilant, and walk out of those one with a little defeatist cloud over my head. Totally underestimated Prof. Christian's ability to write a super hard exam for a 2 credit class. Totally. And now, I have another exam in a class she teaches: Estate and Gift Taxation. Joy. Again, all multiple choice. I hate multiple choice. Hate scantrons. Hate number two pencils. There, I'm done now.

Now, for some levity. Top ten ways to annoy your peers in the exam room:

(10) Heart attack.

(9) Scream "Yes" when you finally get that really tough multiple choice question. Better yet, do it like Meg Ryan did in the restaurant in "When Harry Met Sally..."

(8) Start softly crying...then move into laughter...then back into crying. See how many shifts you can make before angering the proctors.

(7) Shadow puppets. Flashlight optional. Noises encouraged.

(6) Start dancing in your chair like that girl in the Mitsubishi commercials did in the front seat (you know the one...)

(5) Finish in half an hour and look really optimistic about it.

(4) Write one sentence per bluebook to use up the limited supply given to the proctors.

(3) One quick phrase at any time "I think I'm gonna be sick!!....." [dry heaves] "False alarm, everyone." Repeat as necessary.

(2) Mumble the answers to yourself in your best impression of a Star Wars character, preferably Yoda or Chewie.

(1) When the proctor says "any questions?" actually ask questions. Lots of questions. Like:
>>>"What's a cell phone?"
>>>"Where are the restrooms exactly?"
>>>"When you say only one gender can go to the bathroom....define gender please?"
>>>"Are you married....you're soooo cute."
>>>"How much do they pay you for this? I'll double it if you leave...."
>>>"Is this a number two pencil?....What about this one?..., This one too?...."
>>>"What if we have a deathly allergy to paper that will kick in right about........?"
>>>"But I can use a regular phone, right? What about carrier pigeon?"

Not my best work, but good enough for a bit of post-exam relief.

Quick Update & Some Begging

2005-04-28T23:34:00.000-04:00

Just finished working through 450 pages of Evidence today. The exam is next week, but considering I never read any of the material for the course except when I knew I'd be on call (yes, that was not a smart thing to do), this was a necessary evil. Brain hurts, but in a good way. Like your muscles are sore after you exercise, but it's kind of nice because it's a mark of your accomplishment. My other big (read: four credit) exam is Saturday at 6pm, so I have all tomorrow and most of Saturday to get it all in my brain. Let's hope I planned this whole studying scheme correctly. If not, I'm...well, "screwed" is the word that comes to mind. But at least I think I'm at a B level of understanding in my classes right now, taking into account curving and everything, so that's good. Hopefully I can make that last push and get it to an A level. And let's not pretend it's arrogant to say that. It's not. I like getting A's. Most people do. How do you study for a B anyways?

Which leads to my next question: how do I study for the class I elected to take Pass/Fail? It's impossible to know how much I need to know. I used my other pass/fail option this last summer (you can only pass/fail five credits total), and found out that I actually would have had an A- in the class. I even left the last essay blank. Seriously, that was not fun to find out. So now I'm thinking: what exactly would a D+ be in Basic Income Taxation? I'm thinking it would mean getting 40% of the questions right. But that really doesn't provide any further guidance. Oh well.

Last thing: the "some begging" part of this entry. PLEASE EMAIL AND COMMENT ON MY BLOG(!!!) Really, it would mean a lot. It clearly takes verey little to please me. I have this nifty site meter thing so I know people are visiting. And you can Google me now, so I guess that means something. Sort of. Those of my real-life friends who are reading: there really is no excuse for not emailing or commenting. At least once a week. I mean, honestly. I'd do the same for you. Obviously, if you only want to say "you suck" then don't feel the need to share that : )

This is a very meandering post, and really offers nothing to the readers (who read but don't comment or e-mail). I guess I'll have to up the content level or something. Maybe revive the comic strip. Maybe start dropping f-bombs, which would be totally out of character. Or, better yet, you can decide: what do I need to write about to earn your comments and emails? C'mon, show me some love....

"In a hole in the ground lived a law student...."

2005-04-28T09:20:00.000-04:00

I hear that's how J.R.R. Tolkien started on the Hobbit and whole Lord of the Rings endeavor, except instead of law student he wrote, of course, hobbit. I doubt he would have produced such a volume of material had he actually written "law student" instead. Even David E. Kelley couldn't wring that much material out of the topic.

The title refers to the fact that in about, oh, ten minutes, I'll be going into official Exam Hibernation mode. I call it hibernation, even though I won't be sleeping, and my heart rate definitely won't be slowing. But it feels like a hibernation. A sort of disconnectedness from reality. We could go to war, and unless mid-Michigan gets bombed, I wouldn't know it. Starbucks could go out of business, and I wouldn't know it (I wouldn't anyways...). Nicky on Young and the Restless could become a stripper again, and I wouldn't even know that. All I know is that Victor would be peeved, but slightly turned on.

I'm exaggerating, but only slightly. When studying for exams, its all about getting as much information as possible imprinted on the engrams of your brain. The Temporary File engrams, that allow you to disgorge the information over a three hour time frame and then conveniently forget it. It's about mapping out your time, knowing exactly how much Evidence you can tackle in a fifteen hour day, knowing when to start doing your final leg of studying to make sure it's all sorted out before going into the exam room. Knowing when to eat and how much to maximize your alertness. Knowing how to keep your potassium levels high with strategic Gatorade drinking and banana eating. It's a marathon, people. A marathon.

Again, I'm slightly exaggerating (a lot).

I really don't get that bent out of shape, but a lot of people do. They show up looking like ghosts of their former selves. And they pretty much perform no better than the people who show up looking like they've actually slept and maybe watched some TV recently. But I wonder--what if at some point I just put everything off a little too much (it's been known to happen), or underestimate the difficulty of my classes? What if I start panicking too (at least more than I normally do)? Could it happen to me? Could it happen this semester?

Maybe this will be the semester that during finals I let my cleanly-shaven face become adorned with a full, luxuriant beard, and wind up looking like a used-car-selling Leprechaun. Maybe I will abandon all metrosexual tendencies and arrive at my exams wearing my faded grungy jeans with a nice rip on the right knee and my faded BVD t-shirt. Maybe I'll start a caffeine addiction, or start pulling all-nighters--I wonder if I could pull off the blood-shot eyes look. Maybe I'll start eating only Lean Pockets and whatever snack foods I can find to save time.

Or maybe--nay, probably--not. Anyone reading this who's going more than justifiably spastic about exams: don't worry. It's not worth all that fuss. I understand where you're coming from, I've been there. Bad grades suck. GPAs are important. It's all true. But panicking won't get you anywhere, so calmly clear off that desk you never use, or head to the library. Then, calmly take your textbook, and kiss it goodbye. And then calmly start begging for every outline you can from someone who got an A in that class last year.....

One Ply, Two Ply, Red Ply, Blue Ply

2005-04-25T23:06:00.000-04:00

From the hilarious Georgia Pacific website:

"Tissue: This thin, absorbent paper is made from virgin and reclaimed pulp. It's used to manufacture many of GP's consumer products including paper towels, paper napkins, bathroom tissue and facial tissue." (emphasis added)

VIRGIN!! So that's where they've all gone. How very soylent green, but on the, um, other end, of the situation, if you know what I mean. I hope Jodie Foster's character from Silence of the Lambs didn't live next to the factory:

Clarice Starling: And they were screaming.
Hannibal Lecter: And you ran away?
Clarice Starling: No. First I tried to free them. I... I opened the gate to their pen, but they wouldn't run. They just stood there, confused. They wouldn't run.

Hannibal Lecter: But you could and you did, didn't you?
Clarice Starling: Yes. I took one...and I ran away as fast as I could.

(for all the East Lansing readers: sounds like a night at Harper's, no?)

And then another disturbing heading: "Away-From-Home Products." Apparently we don't use liquid soap, paper towels, or napkins at home. Or toilet paper. "Billy, that toilet paper is for special occasions when we're out with Grandma. Use your hand next time. Or the Wall Street Journal." Financial Times for the rich homes, because it's pink.

And then this!!!:

Um, any room? And written in such scary text, adding to the effect. For those times when you eat oatmeal for breakfast and just can't make it out of the breakfast nook, but the breakfast made it out of your nook. (ok, that's just wrong...).

And what is a "bath cup"? Oh, the possibilities. Maybe a replacement for socks in the worlds of prepubescent girls. Maybe for when the toilet isn't working. Maybe for when you need "just a little shower." Or when Iggy the goldfish needs a bath. Who knows? Clearly, someone at Georgia-Pacific (we hope).

But the best part is this: the names they give to their commercial toilet tissue.

In the "Interfolded Folded Tissue" category (I'm not kidding, really): Acclaim. Because we can't stop talking about it, much less singing its praises. "OH MY GOD!!!! This tissue!!! Gladys! It's the most interfolded folded bliss I've ever experienced!..."

In the "High Capacity Bath Tissue" category (I'm serious!!):

Executive System. Because...oh, hell, insert your own joke.

Micro-twin System. That's a niche market if I ever saw one.

Never-Out Executive System. They would have said "fig leaves for lawyers" but that didn't sound so nice. And those are HUGE rolls. Imagine getting that in the mail room.

And, in the "standard bath tissue, 1-ply" category (Remember, this is one ply. One. The loneliest number in so many ways. Welcome to the land of forced handwashing):

Acclaim: see above, but it's worth a second mention, don't you think?

Envision: Inviting you to imagine how it could have been. I miss two-ply.

Lastly, for your consideration, the "2-ply, mega-ply, and multilayer" category:

Compact: "...for maintaining your professional look." Direct quote, I kid you not.

Preference: In case you prefer to...what exactly? This isn't rocket science, people. Maybe it is...

Quilted Northern: They would have called it "Sewed-up Yankee," but that seemed awfully suggestive. Or "Deep South Comforter"--hey, that seems like a good idea. I'd wipe with it. You would, too. Maybe someone from GP is reading. Presuming they're literate...

those silly bureaucrats....

2005-04-25T20:48:00.000-04:00

Just got something in the mail from the State of Michigan. But the return address is to somewhere in Boston, Mass!?!?!? I suppose that would be the ultimate form of outsourcing. Disturbing and amusing all at once, just like our Governor. I guess this means our Secretary of State is some 3L at Harvard (wonder who... :)) Does this mean I need to become a Red Sox fan?

Top Ten Ways to Tell Exams Are Coming...

2005-04-25T20:36:00.000-04:00

(10) That guy who IM'd and played TextTwist during the whole first year and barely passed has now moved to the library to...IM and play TextTwist (what matters is that it feels productive, we all know that)

(9) The fourth floor lounge area is now a shantytown of pup tents. It smells like someone tried to roast some small game (well, it always sort of smells like that)...

(8) The Student Mental Health Society's membership is ballooning

(7) A group of 1Ls has begun praying to an ancient Mayan god of wisdom, and are looking for a sacrificial virgin. Yeah....good luck with that!

(6) The drinking fountains now serve Jolt and Red Bull.

(5a) For ladies needing a sugar fix, a Pez dispenser dispenser has replaced the tampon dispenser in the women's restroom. Too bad no one put up a notice about that first...

(5b) For ladies needing a "sugar" fix, I will be in library study room 5 all day tomorrow. [Bring a healthy dose of optimism.]

(4) A misplaced period on the school-wide exam instructions resulted in this: "Bring plenty of Number Two. Pencils." Students were seen in the cat and dog park yesterday with pooper scoopers. (ok, that was just bad :)

(5) Just wanted to see if you were paying attention...

(3) Stall Two in the third floor bathroom has the entire Gilbert's Outline for Contracts written on a wall but disguised as graffiti (example: We promis(sory estoppel) a good time! Call Ricketts (v. Scothorn), or Greiner! Amazingly, no one has caught on to this.

(2) You can only get in Stall Three of the same restroom with a pass and $20. A guy who looks too much like Gollum (and keeps saying "precious," which is just creepy), can answer any question about anything. [So that's what happened to that one guy who didn't have a good relationship with career services. Duly noted.]

(1) The gunners have hooked themselves up to IVs and catheters (available at Starbucks).

Well, that was a good use of the last 15 minutes. Back to studying...

untitled

2005-04-25T12:34:00.000-04:00

I wanted to get down for posterity the piano pieces I'm working on currently. I still play about 90 minutes a day on average. Even during exam times, because nothing provides a better break than some Bach or Chopin. So, here's the list:

Chopin: Ballade in A-flat major (Op. 47); Etude Op. 10--No. 12 (aka "The Revolutionary Etude"); Etude Op. 25--No. 1 (aka "The Aeolian Harp"); Etude Op. 25--No. 12 (that has another name too---maybe the storm etude or something, I can't remember); Nocturne in F# Major Op. 15--No. 2; Nocturne in C# minor (posthumous)

Beethoven: 3rd movement of Sonata in C-Sharp minor ("Moonlight Sonata")--the fast one that they played on the Smurf's cartoon sometimes

Bach: Prelude and Fugue in C minor; in C# major; in D major; and in D minor (all from Book One)

Debussy: Passepied, from the Suite Bergamesque.

Liszt, a transcription of Wagner: "Isolde's Liebestod" from Tristan und Isolde (this piece is just---wow. My still unrivaled all time favorite. Maybe someday I'll be able to master it. Listen to Horowitz play it sometime--it's transcendent. how often can you say that about something?)

I'll probably have the same list at this time next year, because those aren't the kind of pieces you learn in a couple months...

Posting by email...

2005-04-24T21:12:00.000-04:00

Let's see if this works. Testing....testing....(Bueller?)

For Elvira (at least, paragraphs 3-5)

2005-04-24T20:09:00.000-04:00

You know, writing that last column was like taking a huge breath and just letting it all out. I guess things build up like that sometimes. Maybe that's why it's called venting. I sure seem to be doing a lot of it these days.

What I need to remember is that I've got another year of this law school gig. Actually, more than a year. Probably more like 380 days. 380 days to have fun, have new experiences, meet new people, and just generally enjoy life. From what I hear, being a 3L is great. Like Tony the Tiger great. I've sort of lined up my course schedule, and that looks pretty okay. I've avoided anything really awful, and Thursdays and Fridays are basically empty for me. Very cool. So why am I stressing about all this going into the real world stuff? I've got plenty of time to just relax. I think I might even make some time to learn golf this summer. It's good that I have another year.

There are many people I know, though, who don't have another year. Who are taking the big plunge. I wanted to take this moment, because I know I'll forget if I wait on it, to offer a big CONGRATULATIONS to all those people I know who are graduating. It's a big moment, whether from high school, college, law school, or something else. It's not every day that you get to wear a gown and hood or mortarboard. At least, I'm assuming that's not part of your everyday wardrobe. It's not that comfortable, really. But there's something about wearing that get-up and shaking hands with the deans of the school and getting a diploma (even if it's not real and you get the real thing weeks later). Or draping your arms around your family for pictures and feeling a little taller tahn usual. Maybe because dress shoes do that, but I'd like to think it's more spiritual.

But of all the people I know graduating from this or that--and there are many--I wanted to most of all congratulate my sister. Good going, for want of a better expression. I know exams are still coming up, but you know you're gonna nail those, and then you'll be graduating. Graduating. No more waiting. No more transfers. No more credits. No more bad survey classes. At least until you get to graduate or professional school, but that's not really as tough as everyone makes it seem. Just enjoy these next couple weeks, because it really is an accomplishment to get your bachelor's degree. You may not have taken the conventional path in getting there, and it all may have taken a little longer than I know you would have liked. But think of how much richer your experience has been. Think of the people you've met, the places you've seen, the things you've done. Think of how much more ready you are to face the world than most people are when they get their bachelors. Because you've been living with one foot in that so called real world for years now. I've been able to share most of it with you, so I know just how hard you've worked, and I'll never let you forget it. Sometimes, the twistiest paths are the most interesting and the most unforgettable. I think, when you look back on this time, you'll realize just how true that is.

So, congratulations. With a capital C, in size 72 font. I'm more proud of you than you probably know, but I guess now you do. Good going :)

2005-04-24T17:46:00.000-04:00

Before I go all stream of consciousness on you, a moment for product placement. This CD by Jem (Finally Woken) has one of the higher replayability factors of any CD I've listened to lately. If you get it, I highly recommend Tracks 2, 6, and 11. Especially Track 11, which is the closest modern pop track I've heard that comes close to evoking the warm fuzzies of love. Awwww. [The all time love song favorite of mine, though, for anyone wondering, is the second track of the second disc of Billie Holiday, The Lady in Autumn: "Come Rain or Come Shine." Hands down, at least among what I've heard in my life.] Tracks that are skippable: 3 and 7. They just feel disingenuous, even though 3 is the title track. Go figure. There are many other CDs I really love (see my profile), but I have a studying playlist on my laptop, and one of her songs just came on. Figured I should give a shout out. If you want to know how I would describe it...maybe an upbeat version of a cross between Dido and Sarah McLachlan.

Now, on to the substance. I'm in a major funk today. Major. The journal is publishing, and I don't feel like it's up to par. It's clean, I'll grant you that. But it lacks quality articles, except for one. Starting a new journal and convincing reputable authors to sign is nearly impossible. Can't imagine why. We even lost one article to our own Law Review. Ouch! I guess I just feel like only a handful of the people who decided to get in on the ground floor of this thing actually put in the requisite effort. Actually, it's not just a feeling, it's fact.
Deep down, I guess I know that I, too, didn't do everything I could have either. A lot, but probably not as much as I could have. And now I'm in the middle of a research project for the Dean. The Dean of the whole law school. I was called today (Sunday!) by his assistant, and he wants to meet tomorrow morning. I turned in my initial work Friday, and I got the distinct feeling that it wasn't good enough. Not even up to what he expected. The worst part is that I know it wasn't my best work. Good, but not great. I put in a lot of time, but I can't say my heart was in it.

Exams are quickly arriving too. They seem to get closer by the day. Obviously, they are getting closer by the day. That was retarded. I elected to take the Basic Tax class pass/fail instead of for a grade, just to give me more hours to prep for the four-credit classes (the ones that are known to eat GPAs for dinner). When exams are all done, I'll probably have a job to go to at the Tax Tribunal, presuming they want me (which is definitely not a sure thing) and in the week or so I'll have off between this semester and the start of the summer semester (because I'm taking classes this summer too), I'll get to grade about 1000 pages worth of 1L appellate briefs.

Why do I constantly do this? Every semester, I vow that I won't get so caught up in everything. That I won't constantly be everyone's "yes" man, that I won't pile so much on my plate that I dont' even know where to start. I like to think that it's because I'm at a not-great law school. I mean, I like it here, but it doesn't jump off a resume and scream credibility. It's third tier, so maybe I'm just compensating by beefing up my class rank and extra-curriculars. Or maybe it's just that I've suffered from golden boy syndrome since grade school. I'm used to winning this, and achieving that, and doing all those things that are supposed to mean a lot to academically motivated perfectionists.

But that's not what I am deep down. And lately, it doesn't mean that much anymore. At most, it yields a short term high. Which is nice at the time, but later on it feels insignificant. Certificates and plaques and ribbons and compliments only make you feel one thing: pride. And pride is a very hollow emotion in the long run. What it's being replaced by now is fear. That's right. For the first time in my life that I can remember, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the real world. Afraid that once I leave this bubble, I'll be a fish out of water. That I'll fail, and that I will realize too late that by doing what I thought was practical and smart my whole life, that I forgot how to do what was meaningful.

And I'm deeply afraid of being lonely. Not alone, but lonely. I'm afraid that my family and circle of friends will dissipate, and sooner than I want to admit. Friends are getting married, others are moving across the country. My sister will, despite her protests, be married soon and have her own family. My parents are older, and neither is in great health, and I'm acutely aware of that. And that's the natural order of things, and I'm honestly happy to see the people in my life move on. But I'm still a little selfish, that can't be helped. And I know that when everyone has gone their separate way, that still leaves me. A guy who has never been in love, not really anyways. Not really at all. A guy who has friends, but none that can't live without him or that he can't live without. A guy who is afraid that one day he'll wake up and wish that he hadn't insisted so much on being independent.

I'm not sure if there is a point in me writing all this. Everyone probably gets into these moods at some time or other. Maybe it's the fact that it's snowing, or that I just need a break. For once, it's not something I'll be able to figure out, so I guess writing it out was the next best thing...

2005-04-22T18:16:00.000-04:00

Another reason why I will not, under any circumstances, ever live in Florida. Especially if I ever have kids. I'm not sure how recently this happened (considering I watched it on FNC, so you never know). Apparently, a five-year old girl was arrested by police because she was creating a disturbance by not participating in her kindergarten math class. Whoa. No knives or guns or other menacing things. Rather, a felony arrest for committing a battery against a member of the support staff. I think they said biting and scratching. Really dangerous, you know. And for this, she wasn't just arrested, but cuffed on her hands and feet. The whole thing was videotaped, too, so that administrators could learn from the experience. Which I guess means this is something they were planning on doing again sometime. Because we need to start sending a message, and as early as possible. The next time you want to throw a spitball at teacher, beware: the SWAT team might be called.

There is so much wrong with this and with every person involved. I can't believe that at least five adults (probably more) actually had the conscious thought that this was an okay thing to do. I don't even know what else to say, and so I won't. It all pretty much speaks for itself. A five year old. In cuffs.

Hello God, It's Me, Margarine

2005-04-22T14:47:00.000-04:00

If you grew up in the 80s or earlier, you should get the joke in the title. If you're younger than that, then you probably don't get many of the things in my blog. I really should try to be more inclusive. Maybe have some stuff on here about Lindsay Lohan or Hilary Duff, even the Rugrats--and I only know those names from reading Entertainment Weekly, really. I could have a whole tween demographic for my readership, and then I could get emails that say things like "U R 2 kewl!" Or "U R sooooo not kewl."

But I'm going far afield again. Back to the topic: margarine. I don't like margarine. My Mom was in middle school when the very first kind appeared on the scene--no doubt of its own accord, sprung wholecloth out of the procrustean depths. Or just the result of 1950s post-war consumer trends. She talks about how you would snap this little red dot inside the margarine lump, purchased in a plastic bag, and then she and her friends would throw it around in the backyard, to incorporate the coloring throughout. Yummy. After all, you wanted it to look like butter, and be nice and soft and yellowy. All I can think of is a little kid proudly bringing in this ratty old plastic bag covered in dirt and grass and leaking oily residue--I feel the need to bathe just from writing this. Mom's family never ate that, but they did have imitation ice cream when it first came out. Imitation. Ice cream. Even she isn't sure what that was made of. Maybe it was the Splenda of its day: "Made from ice cream, so it tastes like ice cream." ?????? (Which makes as much sense as having 2006 law school rankings in 2005--what if the school blew up? Would it still be #8?) Mom also witnessed the first store-bought pizza and macaroni and cheese. Of course, rural Ohio didn't exactly have a burgeoning Italian population, so I doubt the demand was high for anything like that.

I was relieved in the last few years when all that artificial stuff seemed to have reached its saturation point. Stores were no longer adding aisles devoted entirely to candy and/or cookies. The pop ("soda" for some of you, "cola" for others) aisle miraculously remained one aisle, and the Great Cereal Proliferation, sparked by the arms race between Kellogg, General Mills, and Post, had arrived at detente. Because chocolate marshmallow sugar crusted shredded wheat biscuits in the shape of elmo just weren't selling.

But then, every once in a while, I'll be flipping channels and notice Sandra Lee's Semi-Homemade Show. While the Food Network has created such gems as Everyday Italian, Paula's Home Cooking, and Barefoot Contessa (I watch too much Food Network), the Sandra Lee show was a mistake. A bad mistake. Right up there with designing men's bicycles with the straight bar.

The concept behind the show, if the title didn't tip you off, is to take store-bought stuff, and then add something to it to make it even better. Funny, I thought that was what most cooking involved. I don't exactly get my eggs and flour from the farmer down the dirt road. Anyways, the hardworking Sandra will take something like a store-bought angel-food cake. Decent start I guess. But now we need to make it "fabuluuusss!" So let's add some apple pie filling out of a can into the hole in the center. God forbid some crevice goes unfilled with sugary fabulousness. And then let's take some store-bought frosting (which, if you read the ingredients, is sweetened, flavored, colored Crisco basically--that's right, it's lard, people). And let's mix that with cream cheese (that's the "homemade" part I guess). And then slather it on the poor angel food cake in an inch thick layer. By the way, it's brown icing. I'd guess chocolate, but chocolate and apples? Ewww. And then stick some big sparkly green candles in it. Lovely. I'd be proud to serve it. At a mortician's convention, judging from the way it looks.

My teeth hurt just from watching this, like that first time you eat a Peeps against better judgment. I feel heavier just from watching it, but, amazingly, Sandra is super-skinny. Which means she either has super-high metabolism, is smart enough to not eat her own creations, spends the other twenty three hours a day doing Yoga Booty Ballet (or tossing margarine around in the backyard), or....isn't human.

You'll be comforted to know that she is described as a "lifestyle professional with a devoted worldwide following." I need to get myself a worldwide following...

Glad that's off my chest....

2005-04-22T11:21:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to say: don't read the blog entry below this one. It's just me being justifiably p.o.'d about something from today. I want this blog to sort of be a journal for me, as well as be somewhat enjoyable for whoever reads it. I think those two goals conflict a lot, though, and that last entry is clearly an example of material that is good for a journal but definitely not entertaining. Unless you're working in your own life on not being a pushover....and even then, not that entertaining. Not at all. Don't read it. But I'm still leaving it up : )

So now I feel obliged to be funny and compensate. Well, the other day in Evidence we learned how the Best Evidence Rule requires an "original document." Now, when I was young, I learned that "original" meant....um, original. I'm short on synonyms. We all know what it means, though. But in the magical world of law school, you learn that "original" also includes a copy, a duplicate, a carbon, a print-out. Everything in the known universe, basically. Under that guise, something patently not original is called "original." I guess that's funny. Sort of.

On the not-so-funny but interesting side of things, here's an interesting article on blogging and the implications for businesses.

Blogs are different. They evolve with every posting, each one tied to a moment. So if a company can track millions of blogs simultaneously, it gets a heat map of what a growing part of the world is thinking about, minute by minute. E-mail has carried on billions of conversations over the past decade. But those exchanges were private. Most blogs are open to the world. As the bloggers read each other, comment, and link from one page to the next, they create a global conversation..

Ooooo. I had this image of an evil corporate boardroom with a huge infrared map, like they always have in the villain's lair in every action movie with world domination as its theme (so, basically 95% of action movies). Timmy (a very popular kid) in Iowa writes that his pet gerbil, named Molasses, just died. Friends respond about the deaths of their own gerbils, and how sad that was. Others want the back story on why he named it molasses. The feed starts coming out of the ancient looking computer back in the boardroom. "Sir, we have activity in Iowa. People are really talking about...." "What, man, what can we bring to the masses in Iowa?" "Sir, it's hard to tell, but apparently they want dead gerbils and molasses."

Clearly I'm warped.

Pope Benedict XVI

2005-04-19T15:18:00.000-04:00

Yes, as a Catholic, especially one who still attends Mass every week, I should really have more on my blog about everything going on in the Church.

But, first, because I'm also a joker, a couple random funny thoughts on the topic, and you should appreciate the risk of being struck down by lightning I'm taking here:

When the Pope goes out for breakfast (hey, it could happen), the following might happen:
Waiter: "And how would you like your eggs, Benedict."
Pope: "I thought there was only one way to have them."
Waiter: "No, there are many ways to have eggs, Benedict."
Pope: "I'm confused. What I want is two eggs and Canadian bacon on an English muffin with Hollandaise sauce."
Waiter: "Oh, I see. So you want eggs benedict? I'm sorry, I thought you just wanted plain eggs, Benedict."
Pope: "That is what I want."
Waiter: "So that's a 'no' on the eggs benedict."
Pope: "I'm confused."

Headline next day: Pope's Mental State Declining

One more funny thought (I'm just full of it lately). To better acquaint the American public with the idea of a conclave, develop a television show on it, based on one currently on.

Fox:
"The C.C." (*for "College of Cardinals")--A brooding young bishop from the wrong side of the tracks (America, maybe the Netherlands) becomes a stand-up guy at the Vatican and is appointed a Cardinal. He doesn't talk much and is always involved in fist fights. Work with me here. No one goes binge drinking in Tijuana (much), but there's this one crazy nun who likes to throw pool furniture.

"Vatican Idol"--Fox would greenlight anything with the word "Idol" in it, right? Gregorian Chant week would be a welcome change from Disco Week.

"SuperConclave XXXVI"--This isn't really about the conclave or even the Catholic church, but you were just watching for wardrobe malfunctions and the commercials anyways. You'll be sure to find out who became Pope so you don't look dumb the next morning at the water cooler.

ABC:

"Lost"--Hey, that Vatican looks pretty big, you know. And I suspect the Korean guy has trouble fitting in there too. We might have to go without the polar bear. Might. It would make for some unforgettable moments, though:
Cardinal George: "We only need a couple more votes, Cardinal Francis."
C.F.: "Okkaaayy, I guess in that case I'll vote for......AAAHHHH! The bear got me!!!!"
C.G.: "But who were you going to vote for?"
C.F.: "AAAAHHHHHH!!!!"
C.G.: "Sounds like 'Ratzinger' to me."
Cardinal Edwards: "We're still one vote short though."
C.G: "Can the bear talk?"

"Desperate Cardinals"--All is not well on Wisteria Lane (I told you, that Vatican is big, it's even got streets inside!). You know what, I just can't work with this one. Anyone out there have any ideas? Not as easy as it looks, is it? Besides, the title makes it sound like an Audubon special on PBS.

That's all for now, and unfortunately I never got to the serious stuff. I'll add that in the next entry--I know you all love the serious stuff anyways!

Once again, commentary on someone else's post

2005-04-18T00:05:00.000-04:00

I'm not big on the whole piggy-backing thing, but see that link to the right that says "humorous law school blog?" Yup, I'm too lazy to remember the magic code right now for embedding a link in here, so click on that, and find an interesting post on an article in the New York Times. Here's an excerpt of what Jeremy wrote that I found interesting:

But the author of this piece -- which is a really interesting piece -- hits it on the head, I think, in the very last sentence of the article.

"We should have no trouble admiring what we do admire -- depth, complexity, aesthetic brilliance -- and standing foursquare against depression."

And, yeah, that makes sense. It makes sense that depression isn't the same thing as being able to tap into that side of the emotional continuum, as being perceptive or sarcastic or deep or thoughtful. And it really isn't depression that's interesting and compelling, but those other things.

That pretty much stands on its own, but it also got me thinking about how quickly people are willing to designate as depression the things that are simply part of being human. I'll note first that I'm not an expert on clinical depression, that I've never had it or even known anyone who has been diagnosed with it, so I'm not saying it doesn't exist. For example, creative people are often thought of as having suffered from depression. We read journals written decades or centuries ago and make a modern day diagnosis. "Oh, yes, X was clearly clinically depressed because he wrote about being sad a lot." Obviously, some of this is just us trying to understand our great historical figures on a more intimate level. And I find it interesting knowing, for example, that maybe Van Gogh suffered from epilepsy, based on descriptions of his life. But when people write in journals, or talk about their feelings to a therapist, or even a counselor--or just talk things out in general--it's because that's when they're typically frustrated, or sad, or angry, etc. We don't talk about how happy we are. Ok, sometimes, I do. Sometimes someone asks me how I am and I launch into an entire thing about how great life is. But usually, you'll just know because I'm smiling. I'm a pretty happy guy, but it doesn't mean I'm not in touch with all those other feelings. Those other feelings are what make the happiness even tangible. The happiness you feel after having been sad over something is acute and real and wonderful on a different level than just day to day contentedness.

If you read some of my journals from when I was younger, however, you'd probably think "wow, let's get him on some meds stat." Well, maybe not that much of a reaction. But there's some pretty heavy stuff in there. It's part of who I am--it's part of who we all are. And maybe for some people, it lapses into a real medical condition, but I think this is comparatively rare. What I think is more common are people who feel bad about their life or themselves, even just a little. They see a commercial on TV with a little detached head bouncing around looking all mopey and then suddenly looking all chipper and bouncing over butterflies. Or they go online and take an "Are you depressed?" survey, and find out that, yes, sometimes they have trouble sleeping because they had a bad day at work. Or some doctor tells them they're depressed. It's not like many people go to the doctor feeling just fabulous.

I've known way too many people who went through a low period in their life and reacted to it by starting on Prozac or Zoloft or another medication. People who I just would not call clinically depressed, who were experiencing far less "depression" than even I probably have. These are medications we're talking about, and it's serious. They're around for a specific reason and for a specific group of people who really need them, but they're not some magic cure all for the general population. We all go through bad times--really bad times, even. But a big part of life is struggling through some things so you can grow as a person and know how good it is in the good times, and really appreciate it.

Something Borrowed, Something....ewww

2005-04-18T00:02:00.000-04:00

Don’t worry, this won’t be a commentary on the single life. I think I pretty much wore out that topic for the time being with my “Marriage Bug” entry below. So if that’s what you wanted, look there.

One of my better friends is getting married in about five weeks. I still sort of thought it wasn’t really happening, but then I got the invitation in the mail a couple weeks ago and realized it was true. I have to tell you, there’s something a little intimidating about all that lace and calligraphy. Another one of my totally irrational gut reactions, but we all have them. Like fear of clowns. Or ducks. Seriously, I know someone who’s deathly afraid of ducks.

Anyways, the invitation also gave the requisite gift registry instructions. Which is fine, I guess. Definitely convenient. I suppose if you’re having one of those huge weddings, it’s the best way to avoid getting a dozen sets of bed linens. But honestly, I just don’t like the whole concept. It’s part of the whole dumbing down of gift-giving, and I find it depressing.

When you know someone well enough to be in the position to get them a gift, you shouldn’t have a problem putting some effort into it. You shouldn’t need a registry to tell you what to get them. People will probably object that a registry makes sure the new couple gets things they need and want, not stuff they’ll just be stuck with. You know what? Yuck. Where’s the surprise? Where’s the sincerity?

As a child, I did the thing that all kids do and dropped not-so-subtle hints about what I wanted for my birthday and Christmas. More often than not, I would get it. But it would be just that one thing, not a whole list of get-me-this and I-want-that. The rest would be a surprise. Along with a homemade card from my sister and a homemade cake from my Mom. Thankfully, I never had the type of parents who gave up when I reached teenage years and just gave me money or gift certificates. How wretched that would have been. “Oh, when I was 17, I’ll always remember, I got $200 and a gift certificate to Marshall Field’s.” Yeah right. Some people have told me that my family is unusual, that birthdays just stopped being important at around age 16, and that Christmas is just not a big event as you get older.

Well, I’m glad they’re “unusual.” I’m glad I’m unusual. If that’s unusual, bring it on. If it’s unusual to eschew gift certificates and registries and wish lists, then that’s really sad. Here’s a perfect example: our Journal was blessed with a great faculty advisor in our inaugural year, one who helped us achieve our goals and even move beyond our expectations. So when I mentioned that we should get him a gift, everyone said that was a good idea. And then the usual: “a gift certificate to a nice restaurant would be cool.” Yeah, real cool. “But we don’t know him!” Well, you know that he’s a good person, that he likes sports, that he’s sincere and funny and has all sorts of memorabilia in his office. We’ve all spent hours with the man, but “we don’t know him” well enough to get him more than a gift certificate. All I can say to that is: gee whiz, people.

Do we really know people so little that we can’t even think of things to give them as gifts? Apparently, yes. The result is that we try to err on the safe side, which basically means bland. But I refuse to succumb to the malaise. So you might get a really awful gift that you hate from me. I doubt it would happen, because if I’m coming to your wedding, or helping you mark some other momentous occasion in your life, then that means I know you. Maybe not as well as I could, but definitely more than on a superficial level. But so what if you do get a gift that maybe isn’t perfect? The point is that, I think, there really is no such thing as an “awful” gift, so long as someone put some thought into it. There are gifts that you will never use, that will collect dust and perhaps never again see the light of day, but they mean something, and that’s what matters.

2005-04-16T00:27:00.000-04:00

Don't even ask how this idea popped into my head, but it did: imagine law firms named after presciption medications, and what kind of catchy slogans they'd use on their literature. This is probably really stupid, and at times very crass, but note it's being written late at night.

(1) "Cialis, Viagra, and Levitra, P.C."

"We'll stand up for you."

"Put a big firm to work for you."

"We'll go in swinging."

"You'll know that we're standing behind you."

"We're in it for the long haul--well, at least, the next four hours."

"Eighty years of experience in your hands."

[I'm sure there are more, but I'll show some restraint. And sorry for the last one....]

(2) "Celebrex & Vioxx"

"Time to die, sucker."

That's all I could come up with. Guess I'm not as familiar with prescription drugs as I thought.

Fahrenheit 87

2005-04-14T20:58:00.000-04:00

That was a totally uncreative title to this post. I wanted to do a quick blurb on how ridiculously poor the climate control is on the fourth floor of our "modern" law school building (it was built in '96 for crying out loud! And not 1896, but 1996. I think HVAC technology was fairly advanced by that point). I was feeling rather flip for my evening class tonight anyways--flip meaning I lose that little barrier in my brain that prevents me from being a total smartass--and so, while doing the class evaluations for Professor Jacobs (who is AWESOME--seriously, an outstanding professor and human being), I discussed with the girl next to me the need for a classroom evaluation. She almost passed out (heat + laughter = not good), so I thought I'd share.

[I realize this is borrowing format somewhat from someone else's blog, you know who you are, and sorry in advance for that]

Please fill out the following survey. Dishonesty is strongly encouraged, since we don't even want our own bureaucrats knowing how you've suffered. Comments will not be read, but feel free to include them, since the time taken to write them eats into precious minutes of class time you've paid for.

(1) To what extent did the classroom contribute to your learning?
To the extent I skirted the edges of suffering a heat-induced aneurysm, and avoided passing out from the pungent aroma of my peers after 100 minutes. Note to girl in front of me: lavendar body lotion does not prevent me from figuring out you just came from the gym.

(2) To what extent did the technology in the classroom enhance your learning?
Enhance? Well, being able to IM is nice. Worrying about dying of electrical shock because my hands are literally dripping wet while typing from the unbearable heat? Not so nice.

(3) Was any element of the classroom environment distracting?
During the winter, no: I was able to focus on IMing and typing useless emails. As soon as it hit 70 degrees outside and the heat was still going on, many things were distracting: the professor's pit stains, the radii of which would be best captured with an exponential function; the various states of undress of classmatets who should not be in states of undress; my own state of undress; the fact that I became delusional and befriended an imaginary life-size Furbie in the empty seat next to me(although he was great about sharing notes); the fact that I had to drink the equivalent of two Big Gulps to avoid dehydration but couldn't afford to leave to use the bathroom because the professor talks so fast. Having your bladder explode is not as painful as you'd think. Loud and annoying, but no worse than a cell phone going off.

(4) What would you like to see added to the classroom, within reason?
Do you really want me to go there? This could take a while. Any view of the outside world would be nice (this is not a casino, last time I checked). In lieu of that, a mural of a happy forest. Think Bambi. Think woodland sprites. That, or a depiction of a Bacchanalian orgy, since by the last ten minutes we all looked like we must have participated in one. See references to EXTREME HEAT in above answers for more on this. And since it feels like we're in the equivalent of the Biosphere's rainforest zone, let's go all the way and get some waterfalls and poisonous tree frogs. And yes, I consider this all "within reason."

(5) Were you regularly prepared for the classroom?
Well, as prepared as anyone can be for staying in a sweltering death hole. My time in that Georgia penitentiary helped.

"Come for the pool, stay for the friendly rodents."

2005-04-14T14:58:00.000-04:00

You like humor, and I know you haven't been getting it here lately, so my advice is to head here. Many of you probably know about apartmentratings.com already, but for the few of you who haven't experienced the joy of rental housing searches, here's some excerpts from a few mid-Michigan locations. I haven't altered spelling or grammar, because that adds to the humor in some cases.

Overall, this is not somewhere i would recommend to live: the office is terrible especially management, apartments are poorly maintained and they have rats.

[I think saying "they have rats" would be adequate, don't you? But in case you're comfortable with rats, the bad management will keep you away.]

Mgmt, only cares about the grass, and fines. They will fine you (or take out of your deposit) for walking funny, if it offends then. Rent elsewhere unless you are an attorney and can hanlde the legal stress.

[Score!]

randomly one day we found an ant hill in our apartment dinning room. if you don't mind insect infestations this is the place for you

[I normally don't mock misspellings, but a "dinning" room just sounds so great. If I was an ant, that's where I'd go. And eat lots of sugar...]

Maintenance used own towels to clean up mess. Had a huge ant problem for a few months. Strange men beating up people with guns. Grill stolen. Would rather live in a box on Grand River. [emphasis added]

[Oddly, this complaint was titled "ant problem." The strange men were just a minor inconvenience.]

I have 2 dogs (under 10 lbs) which I was allowed to have. The neighbor constantly complained about me and even called the cops on me because she said she expected silence and didn't think dogs should bark...EVER!!! She would rentlessly bang on my ceiling at all hours of the day and scour at me in the parking lot.

[Yeah, those brillo pads can be painful.]

we moved into the "worst apartment in the community"- direct words from the grounds manager. Beware the balconies, they do tend to shake after 3 people are on it. Its fun to party at, but not to live at. Weve had problems from the crews they hire, such as paint all over my stereo equipment from the people who were doing our ethernet, and we also had our ceiling cave in from the people who were "repairing" the roof. The parties are non-stop, and that means unless you LOVE techno music, which I and most sane people don't, its not a good place to live.

[Not so funny, but included because I know we read constructive eviction cases in Property last year that were less serious than this.]

The toilets backed up and all the basement apartments were covered in raw sewage. It is definetely the ghetto apartments of East Lansing, but a very fun place to live. Watch out for the bums though... I saw a fight in the parking garage because one bum was digging through another bums garbage disposal bin. [emphasis added]

[The sewage was just simply "fun"--it was the garbage duels that made it "very fun."]

In the summer we had a huge centipede problem and a rolly polly problem in the fall, our drain would always overflow in the kitchen with old smelly water in the winter...

["To everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn....."
Spring wasn't mentioned, so I'm guessing it's reserved for the ants or the rats. Or beatings from strange men.]

DONT MOVE HERE! first of all nick the maitenance guy does drugs all the time, beats his wife, and his kids run around everywhere. Hes a drug pusher.

[There was no "second of all." I guess Nick is a hard act to follow.]

Don't you dare move here! At any point in time during the day or night you will most likely hear children screaming at the top of their lungs, stereos blasting, or white trash couples yelling at their kids. Sometimes I wonder if this is a crack house or an apartment complex.

[Note to marketing: in brochures, add "close to local entertainment."]

I can hear every word from the bedroom below mine, and its even worse when their not talking.

[Please explain, because that was subtle.]

Live in the dorms, live in a house with twenty people, live in a dumpster, but don't live in Crossing Place. At least the rats in the dumpster won't charge you rent, unlike this place.

[But they'll nail you with the security deposit...]

I'll update this as needed.

Fun with a Corpus

2005-04-13T20:27:00.000-04:00

"Highlights" magazine afficionados will appreciate the title of this blog. Everyone else...won't. I actually briefly thought about how funny it would be to swap the words "corpus" and "porpoise," but the "power to invade porpoise" and "distribution of porpoise" are more wrong than funny, so that concept died.

But now on to the matter at hand. The following are quotes that may or may not have been heard at an estate planning career panel* yesterday, with three real-life practitioners. Can you pick out the real ones? [*Thanks T.S.--the panel was actually really useful, and convinced me that I'll go into that area of practice if I in fact do become a lawyer.]

(1) "One thing I'm constantly amazed at is the high percentage of marginal mental illness in our society."

(2) "If you're going to start your own practice, the single most important thing to do is buy a really good printer. Next, a really good computer. And malpractice insurance is the third thing. It also helps to have a respectable looking office."

(3) "I charge a flat rate first, but typically move to an hourly fee if I'm doing more work than the flat rate is covering."

(4) "I charge a flat rate unless I think the client is well-off enough to afford the hourly rate. You can kinda tell if someone's jaw might hit the floor when they hear $300 an hour."

(5) "I literally had a woman client last week who's IQ was maybe 70. Maybe. And I didn't really like her. So not only do you have to dumb down these complex legal ideas, but you're stuck spending extra time with someone you don't like, pretending like you care."

(6) "I had this guy for a client who obviously had a thing for me, but he was paying an hourly rate, so I figured if he calls and wants to chat for a couple hours on a Thursday night, no problem for me. He's happy, I'm happy, everyone's happy."

(7) "Let's be honest, there are two, maybe three hours a day when your mind is actively engaged with your clients."

(8) "Let's be honest, the third year of law school is a joke. Play a lot of golf, go to parties, do basically what you want, because that will be the last really good year of your life. I'm serious. It kind of goes downhill from there. Obviously, this advice is a little late for any 3Ls in the audience."

(9) "I'm close to retirement now, so I'm really cutting back on my hours. That is, unless I'm appointed to a district judgeship in a couple months by the governor. Which is really like taking a step back, because then I'll have to punch a clock. But, I mean, I still would want to be a judge."

[Ok, obviously they're all real. And these were successful lawyers who graduated from top twenty schools. I will note that the one guy was genuinely interesting and insightful, and none of the above quotes is from him.]

Taking Naps

2005-04-11T23:38:00.000-04:00

Remember how awful naps were when we were young? In kindergarten, we always had graham crackers and apple cider and then took a half hour nap, and oh how I hated it. Sleep in general just seemed to be so uninteresting. It involved things like laying down and not doing anything--and for hours. Of course, I loved daydreaming, but that's an entirely different matter.

I was also amazed for years at my parents' ability to fall asleep in minutes. While sitting up. Right in the middle of watching a television show. I would sit there, listening to them snoring in unison, vowing to myself that I would never be that old. Not that I thought of my parents as old, and I still don't, but sleeping in a chair--that was definitely a more aged thing to do. I remember actually sitting in a chair once with my eyes closed, trying to fall asleep. After a good forty minutes, I gave up. Obviously, I was just not the napping type.

Or so I thought. Now, I can nap anywhere. It's disturbing really. Part of me hates getting into the habit, and the other part says "but it's just a few minutes, and it's so nice." Guess which part wins. Last year, around final exams time (I no longer recognize December and May as months, it's just "final exams time"), I started falling asleep while reading in the comfy chair in my room. I wasn't pulling all nighters; I've never been that type. Just five or ten minute power naps. At first I fought to stay awake, but after a while I gave in. I've even learned how to do it in public. Right in the middle of the library lounge: nap. In the middle of Sparty's cafe: nap. In the law school lobby. On the steps outside the law school. In class (ok, not intentionally, and only twice--but if I could figure out how to do it with my eyes open, I'd be there). Even when waiting in the reception area while waiting for my car to be repaired. Nap, nap, nap, nap.

What's the point of this? I would have hoped by now you'd have realized I don't always have points, but this time I do. Becoming an adult isn't about the big changes. It's not about getting the right to drive, or vote, or drink. It's not about getting a bachelor's degree, or living on your own for the first time. It's not about your first "real" job or first "serious" relationship. Ok, maybe it's about all of those things a little bit; I mean, those are obviously social milestones. But for me, it's the little things. The subtle changes in everyday habits. The slight change in how you view something or someone compared to how you would have not so long ago. The things that occupy your mind. The things you appreciate more. The things you understand better.

I hear people all the time say things like "I'm just not the same guy I was a couple years ago." Honestly, I'm not sure that I'm so drastically different from the guy I was in college, or high school, or even kindergarten. And I'm not sure that whoever I am in thirty or forty years will be much different than I am now. I can look at photos of my Mom from when she was only a few years old, and she still has the same expression, the same presence. It's my Mom. And at that moment in her life, she certainly wasn't thinking about how she'd have that title of "Mom" one day. No, her biggest concern in that photo seemed to be how to squint hard enough to block out the sun. Often, she'll still comment on how she truly feels like she was only just going to college herself. In ten years, she'll feel the same way.

So I take naps now. My hair is receding. I have debt, and people mail me things all the time like I'm suddenly one of the important people. Somehow, I ended up in law school. Yes, at some point, I became an adult with responsibilities. For a while, it was scary, this realization that I had crossed that invisible line. But it's still me inside this sort of new packaging, living inside this sort of unfamiliar world. And suddenly it doesn't seem so bad, this whole adult thing. I'm certainly a little bit wiser, which is certainly not bad at all.

Random Doodads

2005-04-10T23:16:00.000-04:00

With finals just around the corner and everything starting to pile up in a seemingly coordinated effort (more likely just because I'm a procrastinator), expect posts like this. If I survive the next three weeks, things will improve. Promise : )

On the late news tonight: “Some junior high students spent their Saturday in downtown Lansing learning about child abuse….” Nothing like a bad field trip to scare you straight.

Then later, from the world of anchor to anchor jokes: “Lisa, why are you still here? Basketball is over.” I was hoping for the conversation to continue, actually. Maybe a brief scuffle later.

In other field trip news, this time from a vet school expo (slow news day apparently): “Clothing is one of the major mediums for disease….” I always knew clothing was a bad idea.
--------------------------------------------
While surfing through some AM talk radio stations (which I maybe do….once a month), I heard a story about some research going on regarding the ability to grow one’s own breast implants.

That’s right. Apparently, someone (hopefully a licensed physician) harvests some cells from that area, then takes the cells off to be grown and nurtured. Kind of like cabbage patch kids, though I presume the end product wouldn’t look the same. The resulting mass is implanted, just like a silicon or saline implant. Apparently, the only sticking point is getting blood supply to the new flesh.

Obviously, getting enhanced by adding more of “you” would be a lot safer. It’s not like you’ll reject yourself (at least not in the biological sense), and you’d have no risk of leakage (unless you’re just super-excited with your new look).

But I can’t shake this image in my head of commercials on television, with some slogan like “it’s you, just more” or “the world could use a little more of you....” or “give a gift to yourself: yourself.” A home kit would be developed.

It would be the Chia Pet of plastic surgery. I’ll leave it to someone else to write the catchy jingle.
------------------------------------------
So we all know that a movie version of Dukes of Hazzard starring Jessica Simpson as the pulchritudinous sister is due out this summer. This got me thinking about Daisy Dukes, logically. And then: what if other famous Dukes had clothing items named after them?

This summer, Senior Gap (hey, the population is aging after all), introduces “Doris Dukes.” Mid-thigh cut-offs, scrubbed in tobacco for a weathered, vintage look, and made of linen so they’re nice and wrinkly. Instead of “Juicy” emblazoned on the back, it would say “Chew. Spit.”

My brain stopped here, fortunately never making it to David Duke.
------------------------------------------
The Masters started today, advertised for weeks on CBS as “A tradition unlike any other.” I’m presuming the unspoken response was “sexism?”
------------------------------------------
Also on the golf theme, sort of: Those awful (AWFUL) commercials for natural male enhancement, that look like something out of a 1950’s suburban utopia, complete with argyle sweater vests. A variety of unsubtle symbolism is used to represent Happy Joe’s new and improved, um, well you know, including a scene with him swinging a huge driver on the golf course. If anyone ever comes up with a program for natural golf enhancement, don’t use this marketing analogy.
------------------------------------------

Interesting entry...

2005-04-09T00:46:00.000-04:00

This post over at jeremy's site got me thinking, oddly enough, about friendships. This is in rough form, and I might not edit it later, so pardon any lack of flow.

As you have general practitioners and specialists in law and medicine, so you have the same thing among the people you know in life. You have the person you call the "family lawyer" or "family doctor" (coming from a small town, these were actual, real concepts), and this analogizes to the traditional "best friend." The rare, hard-to-find ones. The always there ones, with whom you just click really well. The few things they don't know about you, they can probably take a good guess at. They offer good advice, never abuse the relationship, etc. Mutual trust, in it for the long term. You get the idea. Honestly, when writing all that out, I realize I have never had what I would call a best friend. Two people who would come close, but as Dad always says, "close is only good in horse shoes."

Everyone else--the dozens and dozens of people I've called "friend" at one time or another--falls into the specialist category. You only need the tax lawyer at tax time, or the cardiologist when your ticker is acting up. Estate lawyers and rheumatologists become more important as you age, typically. Similarly, you have friends for certain needs in life, and friends for certain times in life. Most of my high school friends were just that--friends for a certain age, to get me through all those adolescent ups and downs. In fact, I even moved through friends pretty fast in high school. My fifteen year old group of friends was totally different than my seventeen year old group. That probably is the norm (right?). And then there were the friends I had while majoring in music, and the smaller subset who were in piano performance. As soon as I changed majors, the common thread was lost with both groups. But when I changed to polisci, I didn't start to hang out with the polisci majors. Obviously, the friends you have is not purely a result of environment, though I would guess the correlation is strong.

My current friends are more likely, I would wager, to stick a little better. Only because we've gone through so much together, and will be pursuing similar career paths. We speak a more or less common language, and share a more or less common experience. But wait--wasn't the same true of my friends from music school? And high school? Yup. So a month after graduation, after all the "let's keep in touch" talk, will any of us really keep in touch?

I guess my point is that I've yet to find my general practitioner (that sounds so corny). And I think this is totally different from finding the person you want to wake up next to in bed the rest of your life--or maybe not, I wouldn't really know, to be honest. So I mentioned this to a couple people I know, to see if I was just a freak; while some gave the usual responses ("you think a lot, don't you?" or the simple "what?"), others candidly admitted to experiencing the same thing. This didn't really make me feel good about it, it just made me wonder why that is. Oddly enough, I think there is a best friend out there for everyone, but many (too many) people never get that lucky. Instead, we go to the friend who can make us happy, or the friend who's a great helper-outer, or the friend who is there during that first year of college, like we go to whatever doctor can fix that unique problem, or whatever lawyer knows how to get us out of that once-a-decade tough luck situation.

I guess that should be good enough, right? Well, maybe it's a good bare minimum. Besides, if you're going to get anything more than that, you can't exactly force the issue. It will just happen when it's supposed to.

Now I'm in this deep-thinking mode before bedtime, which means I'll lay there restless for another hour.

Where, oh where, could my little blog be...

2005-04-08T16:38:00.000-04:00

Here, obviously. Although it wasn't, for several days. I wasn't aware blogger could go non-functional. And it's too bad for you, because I had some great ideas for posts--brilliant stuff, and laugh-out-loud funny. All forgotten, just because I refuse to carry around a notebook for my ideas. Maybe I fear becoming some middle-aged guy who scribbles in an old book while mumbling to himself. Don't ask me where this image comes from, I have no idea.

Instead, I'll just spend some time telling you about my day. I'm not sure if it'll be funny, I guess you'll have to be daring and hope it is. Chronological order makes the most sense, so as Fraulein Maria would say, "let's start from the very beginning, a very good place to start..."

(1) Woke up.
Generally, this is the best way I can think of to start the day. I have this really good habit going of waking up every day, and this morning was no exception.

(2) Hit the snooze button. Had really weird (but cool!) dreams for nine minutes.

(3) Repeated steps one and two. Many times. Many, many times. Pondered how this might permanently damage my biological clock.

(4) Rolled out of bed and into the shower. Took a shower.
This was actually several steps. I don't have my shower adjacent to my bed, though the convenience of that is enticing. I'll spare you the details on shower-taking, because it's really quite boring and non-creative, and besides that I'd be amping up the EWWWWW factor of my blog. I'm finding that the whole shower thing is a necessity if you actually want a social life. I wish I had known that before junior high (just kidding). But if you love your personal space, by all means, don't shower.

(5) Got dressed.
Again, if you love your personal space, skip this step too. That being said, I like being able to leave the apartment without fear of being arrested, so I almost always get dressed after taking a shower. I especially avoid nude-apartment-guy syndrome if I know I'll be (a) ironing anything (b) cooking anything that might spit (c) eating anything hot and drippy (d) blowing glass (e) folding laundry (f) sitting on anything with fabric upholstery (g) sitting on anything made of steel (h) dancing in the room I keep my cactus collection.
I realize you've probably lost your lunch by now....

(6) Cooked and ate my own breakfast.
Had a two-egg omelette. Three-egg is too big, plus it's really hard to get my pet chicken to lay more than two in a day. On a side note, I know they call it Extra Virgin Olive Oil supposedly because it's the first pressing, but in reality it's because they need an extra virgin to stomp around in the olives.

(7) Went to the law school library. Accomplished things. Yeah, that's right.
Library + Friday morning = peaceful and serene quiet time (read: boring as hell). Do you really want to know what I was doing there? You do? Wow, um, okay. Well, this author of an article that our journal was trying to get decided last minute that he would not be going with our publication and would not, after all, be signing the contract. This means a pared down, intense, one week cite-checking of another article to meet our deadline of April 30th. This means my whole morning and afternoon were spent pulling the roughly 70 sources cited in the article (which had one foot in our rejection pile grave but is now resurrected, Lazarus-like). This means that all the reading, outlining, and blogging I had expected to do earlier today gets pushed into the weekend. This means I will not, under any circumstances, be doing a joyful Snoopy dance in the near future. And that's too bad, because I do a mean Snoopy dance. Not literal "mean," as in malevolent, but colloquial "mean," as in hilarious. If you saw me do it, you'd get why. But now you won't.

(8) Went home to eat lunch and channel-surfed.
I get three PBS stations, which means I can even get educated while couch-potatoing. That reminds me: please....no....more.....Charlie....Rose.....interviews! Or anything put out by the Annenberg CPB project. Please.
During lunchtime, I also get Mister Rogers! I only watch when I need a quick childhood fix, but today seemed really funny to me, on a double entendre kind of level. I mean no disrespect to the show or the man, which I loved as a kid. But on four hours of sleep and after a morning of journal work...well, you read it:

(cue macabre Debussy-esque piano music)
Lady Elaine: "It's in the P room. [awkward pause] P is for package." [uh, ok]
Fred Rogers dressed in a bear costume that may have been purchased in North Halstead, Chicago says something about how he wants the package, and a black woman who looks like she must be the bear's corporate counsel chimes in. Then:
King Friday: "Bring on the package!!!!"

It just got me, I'm sorry. Really.

2005-04-06T10:44:00.000-04:00

(again, click to make it bigger)

I'm amazed that I actually got around to doing another one of these, and only a week after the first. The fact that I'm willing to devote three or four hours to this when (1) it provides no income (unless someone out there wants to donate?) and (2) as far as I know, I can't use it for resume building (perhaps career services has a handy brochure on the topic).

I'd write more, but I'm in class and the prof just gave me one of those "man, I know what you're doing and am just itching to ask you a question out of the blue since I know you're not gonna be able to bs your way out of this one."

2005-04-06T00:26:00.000-04:00

Overheard today (maybe fodder for another comic strip?):
1L Guy: "So in this forfeiture case I'm reading, the family car gets taken away because the husband screwed around in it with a prostitute and got caught."
1L Girl: "I'll just never understand how someone can do that."
1L Guy: "I know, I mean getting with a prostitute...that's just nasty."
1L Girl: "No, I meant doing it in a car."

Five minutes later, the girl was advocating for how awful this must have been for the man, and saying that the wife must have not been providing what the husband needed in the bedroom. The guy kept sticking up for the wife, wondering how his Mom would feel in the same situation. People are just never predictable...

As for my reaction: someone will be getting that car at one of those auto auctions advertised on late night television (Ron Popeil inventions, Christie Brinkley and Chuck Norris exercising, and foreclosure sales--the glory of after midnight programming). And then that someone will be driving around town in presumably a vehicle that is very nice and very unique (they always look nice on the ads), so that the wife and everyone she knows will be constantly reminded of what happened. Probably an eggplant hued PT cruiser with leopard upholstery. Even more ironic: a minivan with all the bells and whistles that finds its way into the hands of the reigning soccer Mom queen. And then I thought how said soccer Mom probably owns several Ron Popeil doo-dads, and rotisesserie chicken is on the menu for the fourth time this week. And how she's probably like the one wife on Desperate Housewives (the pale red head with the noticably pronounced bone structure), and is compensating for a loveless marriage by preparing lavish three course meals. And how her husband in a moment of weakness seeks companionship from a lady of the night--while driving the minivan. The vicious cycle continues. [Wait, what if the minivan itself is cursed? Please don't read too much into this thought process. I'm really debating about posting this one, but I'm sure there's worse on the internet...]

The Great Side Dish Personality Evaluation

2005-04-02T13:12:00.000-05:00

I feel guilty posting another entry about food, because computers cause munchies anyway, and now I'm exacerbating the problem. Sorry to put you in a pickle...(haha)

Anyhoo, enjoy the following waste of time, whether you're a foodie or not. I hope it's enlightening for you.

Instructions: Please select the side dish that you feel most represent you, then read the corresponding explanation provided below. (If you need help choosing a side dish, simply ask a friend to choose for you. Then again, if you need help with something like this, you probably don't have any friends.)

Baked Potato
Mashed Potato
French Fries
Pork & Beans
Soup
Dinner Roll
Cole Slaw
Salad
Cottage Cheese
Fruit Cup

Baked Potato--You're only worthwhile in late afternoons. Everything good about you is piled on the surface, and isn't really the essence of who you are. When people do get to know the real you, they're usually disppointed, but they keep coming back anyways, and even you don't understand your appeal. Your appearance is kind of nasty. Generally, a good scrubbing helps. You look best in silver or gold. People of Irish descent are drawn to you for some some reason.

Mashed Potato--Ditto on the Irish thing. You get along well with babies and the elderly in particular. You can take hours of abuse, and still come out no worse for wear. While others steal the spotlight, you prefer blending into the background, although you do make a decent first impression. You've been known to wear out your welcome in long term relationships, though.

French Fries--While you're thin and attractive, all your friends suffer from obesity. You also play well with others, but are just as likely to be enjoyed for your own unique qualities. You tend to leave your mark wherever you go. Increasing your salt intake may be bad for your health, but trust me, it will make you a better person. You find yourself constantly drawn to the color red.

Pork & Beans--You're enjoyed in private but generally shunned in public, though you seem to do well where others would fail (like at church picnics). While a relationship with you is often a fabulous experience in the short term, people find themselves in pain afterward, and avoid others until you're out of their system.

Soup--You're all screwed up. With you, it's anyone's guess what you might be like. Unable to maintain a consistent quality, you're destined for a lifetime of love-hate relationships.

Dinner Roll--Could you be anymore boring? It seems you're invited to everything, but are always the one left behind at the end. And it's not that you really make an effort. You just...sit there, looking full of potential, only to disappoint in the end.

Cole Slaw--You move through people faster than you should. Anyone who endeavors to get to know you wil quickly find that you're risky business.

Salad--Everyone loves you, and it's doubtful your popularity will ever diminish. Even when loaded down with emotional baggage, you still find success. All your friends are skinny.

Cottage Cheese--I don't care how many people like you. I won't. You're probably that nasty guy or girl in college that everyone hooks up with at a party at least once out of sheer curiosity. Sorry.

Fruit Cup--Women love you. Men find you disturbing. This will never change, so just stay your sweet self and quit worrying.

But Mr. Man, I don't identify with any of the side dishes on the list!--
I'm terribly sorry. Please write yours in the following blank _________________. Here's your custom evaluation: get a life. Kick yourself for taking a personality quiz in the first place. Now do it again for comparing yourself to food.

I'm a "baked potato" and find your comments offensive--
I'm terribly sorry. Wait...you're a sentient baked potato!!!! Oh my God!

I'm "cottage cheese" and find your comments offensive--
Yeah, but you know deep down I'm right.

2005-04-02T12:58:00.000-05:00

Went to Big Boy (a popular Michigan restaurant) to eat some breakfast for lunch. Wondered: "What if Big Boy really does make you say 'Ohhhh Boy!'like the placemats claim? If it doesn't, what if I did anyways, and loud, and repeatedly? Could they make me leave, or could I accuse them of not being faithful to their own marketing?" Clearly, I needed sustenance at this point.

On a side note, I think said marketing team needs some help in other areas. A little flyer next to the table advertised "senior specials." For just $6, you can get "senior pork chop," "senior spaghetti and meatball" (just one!), or, my favorite, "senior meatloaf." As I thought about the phrase "senior meatloaf" I noticed that none of the older waitresses and cashiers were around. Hmmmmm......maybe it was just their day off (yeah, permanent day off!!).

On another (totally) unrelated note, the chili on the soup and salad bar looked unusually chunky.

Mommy, look what I made...

2005-04-01T22:52:00.000-05:00

click me, I get bigger

...and all by myself, too. I've often been a fan of comic strips, so I've made the bold decision to start my own. I'm pleased enough with the first attempt. I figure that I like drawing as much as writing (well, almost--certainly one is less time-intensive), and rather than segregate these two parts of my personality, I'd combine them into something hopefully worthwhile. The above creation took three hours using Microsoft Paint; three hours that could (okay, should) have been spent outlining for my law classes, or cite checking, or thinking through my latest bout of law school malaise. I suppose this isn't the best sort of investment in my future, but who knows. Maybe I'll get good at this comic strip endeavor, and be "discovered" (all at once now, "ooooohhhhh").

Or not. Remember, my subtitle says I'm only 8% totally incurable dreamer. Whatever. I still feel like breaking out the champagne, or at least some sparkling white grape juice--I'd even settle for CapriSun and club soda--because I can't remember the last time I did something completely creative of this magnitude. I'm hoping the work product will mature eventually, and that I'll be able to post about once a week. It still needs its own distinct "voice," which I imagine is simply a function of time and energy.

And last, I'd like to thank Jeremy Blachman, whom I've never met. But I've linked to his blog on my site (see "humorous law school blog" link), and anyone who is marginally human can read it and gain two benefits. First, uncontrollable laughter. Second, the epiphanal realization that who we are and what we become is definitely not a function of where we are at a given moment. Is it sad to have this knowledge at age 25? Probably not. I figure that I still have a few whiplash-inducing 180's ahead on my lifepath before I have to become worried about any detriment to my retirement savings. So, thanks man.

"2L in a handbag"

2005-03-31T22:08:00.000-05:00

Catchy title, no? Puns are like the store-brand bandages of the humor universe: initially they stick, and provide a quick-fix (dare I say a "band-aid" solution?). But then a single teardrop from a dust mite falls on a corner of the adhesive strip, and they fall off, leaving the wound open to things like...dust mite tears. How did this analogy go so horribly awry? It's only 10:30--this must mean my brain has decided to turn off earlier than usual. Yet I forge on...

The title represents the malaise I've been feeling lately toward the whole law school experience. Is it how insanely busy I've been? ["Yeah right," you say, "so busy that he can keep a daily blog."] Is it that I'm halfway through with no real feel for where I'm going? Is it that weird funk in the law school stairwell that smells like pine scented garbage twinkies? Will Hostess have to market such a product when the world becomes overrun by its own waste?

I've never been good at self-diagnosis (the whole idea seems counterintuitive), so instead I'm left to wallow. I suppose I could just follow the old adage and pick myself up by the bootstraps, but I have sandals on, and I'm not that flexible. I know. I'll blame the weather. Except I can't-- who would be in a slump when it's hit 70 for the first time since last September and the sun is shining? I'm gonna go now and look for things with which to distract myself....

The Marriage Bug

2005-03-31T12:21:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I'm talkin' to you...

So I obviously have a fixation on sheep--I guess that's a pretty safe thing to get hung up on. Maybe even culturally acceptable in Arkansas. The picture does have a point though, because this entry will be devoted to the enigma of being single, and I feel the need to do a little rant on the topic.

You see, I've been single as long as I can remember. I'm not sure I planned it that way, but the opportunities for getting married were slim to none, especially in kindergarten. I doubt my parents would have approved, and society in general seemed just fine with me playing with my Legos and Transformers and just being a snot-nosed kid (though I was neurotic about cleanliness even then, but I digress...). Besides, girls had cooties.

As I grew older, I noticed that the gap between the "adults," who were getting married and having kids, and me, who still privately longed to play with my Legos, was growing smaller. Little else had changed, though. No one cared if I got married, and a few girls still had cooties, though now we called it "crabs" or "herpes" (I still think cooties has a less menacing ring to it), and I don't think it really stopped the boys from playing with them anymore.

But then the horror of all horrors happened. Someone I knew, who was my age, got married, and people were actually happy about it. Apparently, once the husband and wife hit 18 or graduate from high school, everyone shifts from saying "they're too young" to saying "what a cute young couple." A few months later, "it" started.

"It" is the phenomenon of having the following conversation: "Are you married?" "No." "Oh, are you engaged?" "No." "Oh, um....are you single? Because I know the perfect girl for you." Ok, so maybe I'm over-simplifying it, but when you read between the lines, I've got it down cold. "It" starts slow--maybe once or twice a year when you're around 20. When you hit about 24, though, the slow trickle becomes a flood. Even in Sex and the City they all caved in at the end (or so I heard from every disenchanted feminist I know, I could never get through a whole episode for some reason). I'll admit that it's easier being a guy and being single, but only marginally. The downside is that when you're a single guy, new people you meet instantly appraise you as a dawg (he who indulges in lots of casual sex) or a weirdo (he who must have something wrong to prevent being in a long-term relationship). I know this for a fact, because of the many married people I've met who freely say after knowing me for a little while "you're not like the other single guys we've met, you're like really normal and nice." Then they try to "fix me up" with someone, which I guess implies that somehow I'm still "broken"?

I guess I find being automatically thought of as a sex-hound the more annoying thing. Even if I wasn't Catholic, that lifestyle just doesn't fit me. Nevertheless, when I'm around my single friends (declining in numbers and diminishing in quality, regrettably), all they talk about is getting some/got some/not getting any for a while. I suppose this is why they're the remaining single friends. When I'm around a married guy acquaintance, inevitably my sex life comes up, as if he wants to live vicariously through me. At the doctors office for a check up, I was asked if I was sexually active, and when I said "no" the doctor looked at me with raised eyebrows and explained that I could be honest with him. I thought he might offer me a sucker next, or a neat sticker. Maybe I should have angled for one....(do they bill insurance for that?)

Thus, to everyone out there who is no longer single (should I call you "double"?): being single does not mean you have some personality problem that needs changing. It does not mean you prowl clubs looking to get some. It does not mean you are in search of your missing half, but that you've figured out how to be whole all by yourself. Like anything, it can be great, and it can suck. Just like marriage, last time I checked. But the next time you find yourself reminiscing about your youth, just remember that you were single then, and wasn't it nice?

Oh no! Brian Brown just showed up...

2005-03-31T12:11:00.000-05:00

Me This Week (but less fuzzy)

The title above is an inside joke for anyone who ever suffered through The Thorn Birds miniseries (which I did, and twice, and at a young enough age to fully appreciate its unintended comic value). I chose that picture because the Serta Counting Sheep are a stellar marketing idea and because that expression represents well what this week has been like. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I'll only add one: AARRRGGHHHHH!!! There, all better.

WOOOOHOOOO!!!!

2005-03-27T00:31:00.000-05:00

Ok, so beating Duke was awesome. I think we've already established that. But as good as that was, beating Kentucky, an equally storied program, to get to the Final Four--and doing it in a heart-stopping, double overtime victory--is better. Our fourth trip to the promised land in seven years.

This would also be a good time to bring up my lucky streak. You see, I have always been at a school when a national championship is won. My last year at Oklahoma, the football team went undefeated and won the championship against a heavily-favored Florida State team. My last year at Grand Valley, the same thing happened, except in Division II. Now, I realize we're dealing with basketball, and that we haven't won it yet, or gone undefeated, and that I'll be at State another year. But I'll take what I can get....

In other news, the family and I went to the Easter Vigil Mass at St. Mary's Cathedral last night. Even when I was little, I loved all the symbolism, mystery, and celebration of that one night each year. Christmas Eve was always a close second, for the same reasons. I guess for some people going to church is more of a social function (many of my Protestant friends would admit to that), but I was always more drawn to the history, ritual, and ceremony. I'm not sure if that's right or wrong, or if there is any way to be right or wrong when it comes to expressing faith. The truth is, I'll always feel more at home beneath the vaulted ceiling of a cathedral, with the sounds of an organ echoing from the choir loft, than I ever will in a sterile, architecturally modern church, with guitar, drums, and who knows what other instruments perched up front. Despite growing up in that kind of post-Vatican II environment, it was never a good fit, and never will be. I'm not sure that anyone else wanted all those liturgical changes either, or what benefit they have provided, especially with more substantive problems (like a shortage of vocations) looming.

[Why does the topic of religion consistently lead me into such lengthy tangents?]

Spartans + (Victory * Duke) = Awesome

2005-03-25T22:42:00.000-05:00

Sweet....no, wait,...Elite
March Madness is always great, but when your team knocks off the number one seed in their region, who just happen to be the Duke Blue Devils, who we haven't beat since 1958, to get to our fifth Elite Eight in the last seven years....to put it lightly, that qualifies as AWESOME!!! (trust me, multiple exclamation points are definitely in order)

I could write about how we wore them down with our athleticism and deep bench, or how we shut down Reddick, or got their key big guys in foul trouble, or how Duke turned it over 20 times because of our superior defense. I could write about that, but I'm still riding that post-victory euphoria (I think I might until tomorrow morning). So instead, I'll just say, once again...that was awesome.

"It's Just a Game"

2005-03-25T20:22:00.000-05:00

No question: cribbage is a truly superlative game. Anyone who's played understands just how eggregious the title comment would be when applied to cribbage. Some games are too much based on chance (I would put poker squarely in this league). Others are pure skill (for example, chess). I've never really liked either extreme, probably because I stink at poker and chess. But cribbage--it's just the perfect blend. You can either win by hitting a lucky streak, or win by grinding it out. You can blow someone away, come from behind, or nip and tuck it the whole way. Sometimes you can pull off a skunk (or, rarely, a double skunk). Sometimes it comes down to pegging, and nothing (absolutely nothing, in any game I've ever played) matches the drama of that scenario.

There's a second reason I love cribbage, though, beyond its inherent awesomeness (is that a word?). You see, my Dad taught me cribbage. It is the only thing he ever taught me. I'm sure he made attempts with other things along the way, but for one reason or another these activities didn't take. I'd always felt that he would have wanted the typical all-American quarterback for a son, and I think anyone who knows me can understand how far afield I was from that type of guy. That I played classical piano and he likes classical music was probably just lucky--but there is a huge gulf between majoring in piano performance and listening to Aaron Copland records. And while I appreciate sports, he played sports--another equally large gulf. We never really bridged either of those gaps, and that's not surprising. So when Dad made the effort to teach me cribbage, I relented, after avoiding for years what I assumed would be another fruitless attempt at us sharing something.

I learned from Dad the only way to really learn anything--by doing. I caught on quick, and he was happy. We played for hours on end, and at some point I could see for the first time that he took pride in something I was doing because he actually felt proud of it, not because my Mom or someone else told him he should be. Dad was passing on something to me: he was taught by his brothers, who were taught by their father, my grandfather. I guess you could say card-playing in general is in the blood (and, yes, I do buy into that whole notion). Obviously, it was great to feel like part of some lineage, as if I had been invited to some special club. Cribbage quickly became, and still is, the one thing that has allowed me to really connect to my Dad.

It's not that we talk more when we play. Or that my relationship with him has reached new depths. No, I probably know just as little about what makes my Dad tick as I did before; I'm sure he'd say the same about me. But that seems okay now, as if we've reached some sort of understanding. I doubt it will ever change. At least now, we have a common ground, if even in that one small way. For all the years Dad has played, I'm the first person who ever double-skunked him. I'm the first he ever played against who scored a 28 hand. There's a remarkable lasting quality to that for which I'll always be thankful, even if it is "just a game."

The Man Behind the Blog

2005-03-24T19:07:00.000-05:00

yours truly

Well, this whole blog thing is really interesting. Not sure what you'd call that pose--maybe "contemplative," although at that point is was just getting frustrated with my digital camera (I have a classic love-hate relationship with technology). It does seem like a good time to comment on the ring though. First of all, it's not a wedding ring (clearly that would be the wrong finger), or an engagement ring, or a friendship ring. On the other hand, it's not just a ring. I guess I'll save the backstory for after I've been on here a few months, maybe allow people to guess (if I actually get any comments, which my friend's blogs usually don't, so we'll see if I can buck that trend).

The hat? Well, that's easy. GO SPARTANS! I was never a State fan growing up (yes, I was more of a GO BLUE person then, though fairweather at best). But even with our football teamhaving its ups and downs, I've grown attached to the green and white, and it definitely becomes easier in basketball season. The men's team has their Sweet 16 appearance tomorrow night vs. the Puke Blue Devils (oops, I mean Duke--freudian slip). Hopefully, the Spartans will pull through and help my severely ailing bracket. I mean, I'm a big fan of upsets, but Bucknell? Vermont? At least I didn't bet money....

$130!!!! Ridiculous...

2005-03-24T13:09:00.000-05:00

Money is not something I usually think about. When I'm writing a bill, or walking the fine line between having a balance and being overdrawn at the end of the semester, then it might pop into my head. But even then, it's not high-priority.

But this morning, it's definitely on my mind. I got a ticket last night. That's right, a ticket. Honestly, I'm the safest driver I know. I rarely speed, I wear my seatbelt, and I couldn't even try to be reckless (ok, so I raced someone once when I was 16, but on a rural road with no traffic--real dangerous lol). The ticket was for what apparently is a really big no-no: "disobeying a stop sign." I stopped, but I stopped with half the car past the sign. Oh, the horror! And for that, I sit in my car with one of those SUV police cruisers with its spotlight on me for 20 minutes. I was honest, friendly, and totally agreeable with the policeman. I expected to get out of it (which always makes being agreeable easier), but apparently I must have blinked once too many times or something, because I got the ticket. Oddly enough, it was at the exact same intersection I was in a fender bender last year. I'm beginning to think I should take a new way home from classes.

Now, I can accept getting ticketed, but how does me rolling halfway past a stop sign with no other car in sight for miles warrant that kind of fine? My inner utilitarian is definitely up in arms. Maybe they'll use the money to pour rice in a pothole, or whatever technique they've been using lately....

High School Flashback

2005-03-23T12:16:00.000-05:00

A few days ago at the law school I ran into someone I used to know in high school. We exchanged pleasantries, much the same way we did in the halls of RCHS, and I couldn't help but wonder: how would high school have been different if I was back then more like I am now?

I can't pretend I was popular in high school; I could romanticize the whole experience (which I've been prone to do in the past), but that would just be a joke. Like anything else, high school had really high points and really low points, but the whole experience would be best described by the word "blah." The truth is, at least once my junior year hit, everything just turned neutral. People knew me and liked me well enough, but I didn't have friends or enemies. I didn't have to worry constantly about being picked on, but I didn't get invites to parties either. If I went to a reunion tomorrow, people would know me, probably even remember my name (our class only had 160 people), but when it came time to tell stories and reminisce, I would definitely be left out.

So now I'm left wondering: why was I so like that? Why did I continue to allow that state of affairs to continue even into college? And I think after this long, I finally know the answer. It was easy. In every other aspect of my life, I give it my all, especially academics. When I tried piano, I went far in that. Same thing with art, writing, architecture, etc. I'm naturally curious, and I have a pretty strong ambition. The more challenging, the better. Except when it comes to my social life.

Taking the easy way out means you don't get looked at like you're odd, you don't get rejected, and you don't have to deal with all the emotional baggage that comes with getting close to people. But that's the problem: you don't get close to people. Which, obviously, sucks. When I talked to that girl, I couldn't help but feel deja vu. The conversation was so familiar to so many I've had. Totally neutral, totally superficial. In law school, talking about summer jobs and classes is the equivalent of dicussing the weather or asking someone in a singles bar "what's your sign?" Safe, nice, easy.

And the weird thing is, I have many more friends and a much more substantial social life now than ever before. But even with them, I find myself taking the easy way out. Keep it light, keep it airy, keep it convenient. I can't really say that I have a strong connection with any of them, despite the fact that they seem like really great people. I wouldn't spend time with them if they weren't, obviously.

So with spring coming, and all the symbolism I've been hearing at Church lately about change, maybe that would be a good thing to change. Maybe going out on a limb and avoiding playing it safe would be a good philosophy to extend to my whole life instead of just pieces of it.