Up I was, early in the morning. Tired as can be: I did my morning "shower, shave, load up, and get on out" act. I had two hours of contracts to look forward to, and lord help me if I was going to miss a minute of it! If two hours of contracts was not enough, imagine the two hours of legal methods I was supposed to experience directly after.
As what has become the worst part of my week on a regular basis, I was dreading stepping into the legal methods classroom. This feeling permeates from every orifice of my soul. However, the powers that "be" - the one's who usually ruin my life for their amusement - were on my side today. Our regular professor was sick, so we had a replacement teach the class. He went over the material as quickly as possible, and turned what would normally be the entire two hours into a swift 20 minutes. This was perfect and how it should be all along. At the end of the class, he asked if everybody got the sign-in sheet. He said, and I quote "if you have to sit through this and be here, you should get credit for it."
My sentiment exactly.
After class ceased to exist, I went back to the library to do some reading and whatever else I could do to drone myself into a deep haze. I worked on an application, and met with a professor who came in from sabbatical just to meet with me. I am that cunning and diplomatic, I guess. She told me that she swore that she was not coming into school for any student, but that I seemed so sincere and thoughtful. This attorney thing is really going to work out for me.
Anyhow, I left the meeting and went back to my studies. I looked at my clock, and it was around 3:30 in the afternoon. I thought to myself, that is enough time to do whatever I need, class does not start until 4:10. The next time I looked up, there was a window on my computer with a message written in all capitals from my friend Megan.
"WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!?"
Uh oh! It was 4:12. I was late to civil procedure. This is not good at all. This professor writes my letters of recommendation. It is also one of my large sections, so everybody would be staring at me with contempt.
I gathered up my things with haste, and scooted to class. Right before I walked in, I stopped and engaged myself in breathing exercises of the Tai Chi genre. After my last deep breath, into class I went. Suddenly there was 120 sets of eyes (that is 240 total eyes) staring me down. It was glorious.
After the 50 minutes of class were up, I rushed to my car (to escape frostbite) and shuttled myself home.
When I got home, I was excited. Tonight was LOST night! Party in my living room. The party was to consist of me and the dog, but I was excited. Don't judge me.
Anyhow, a problem quickly arose from my field of dreams: the CNN Democrat debate was on tonight. Two of my favorite things on TV at the same time: CNN and Democrats. I then had to weigh my viewing choices for the night. I could record LOST and watch the debate, or record the debate and watch LOST. I did what any other nerd would do and recorded LOST.
Before the debate, I turned to Lindsay and gave my debate premonition (what tactics I thought each person would evoke and why). It turns out that I was correct, and the pundits even talked about my guesses at the end of the debate in their recap. A job awaits my presence at CNN.
I read a bunch today, filled out an elaborate internship application and read some more. Lindsay and I picked up another case - that is three cases to be heard, with another case at the appellate level, for a total of four open cases for me.
Intense.
We only took this new case because it is for a coworker who was involved in the case Lindsay and I just appealed. Basically, we know this case better than she does. Well, knowing the case is the reason I used to talk Lindsay into taking this case, the real reason is that I cannot wait to cross examine the employer again. He is already very scared of me, and he will be even more so since he has received our appeal brief.
This should be interesting. I need happiness in my life; especially at the expense of people who don't deserve happiness in the first place. The employer will probably have an attorney with him this next time, though. Oh happy day.
Tomorrow is an Appellate Advocacy sandwich: dentist appointment at 8:00 AM, Appellate Advocacy at 10:00 AM and then I go to mentor kids again in the Mock Trial program (the same program that I swore I would never do again, but I am doing it again). Hopefully the kids at the new school will not be little brats. But, when has anything worked out in my favor like this?
If there is humor to be had at my plight, I undergo plight. That is just the way it is. Tomorrow should be good.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
The Death of a Highlighter - January 30, 2008
I am sure everybody has a few days in their life when they feel invincible. One of those days when nothing can go wrong and everything is going right. A day when you are an unstoppable force. You are the person who looks ravishing in a business suit and is one to be reckoned with. And then your highlighter is sent to a great-big farm where it can chase after goats and ducks and roam free - at least, this is what they told me.
Today marks the passing of my prized highlighter. It was with me through the good and the bad. It always showed me the important parts of life. Compared to my Yellow Highlighter, none other is as much as standout as it once was. Rest in peace, beloved Yellow. I now have good reason to purchase that blue highlighter which has eluded my grasps since the beginning of the year.
Today started with a hot bowl of cream of wheat (prepared by my roommate). When your roommate makes you breakfast, nothing can go wrong the rest of the day.
We finally finished our client's appeal brief. If you do not know what it is, you are one lucky person. They are never fun, and often long. This one was not fun and it was very long. I, however, began to have fun with my writing towards the end. I feel the necessity to share a piece of the appeal, so a sense of my frustration will be relayed. Read on:
-----
Mr. K quite literally wrote the book on procedures and policies for his Employer. In reference to a question from Claimant’s Counsel regarding the existence of a company policy manual, the Employer’s witness responded that “They have a manual in the stores for the managers [and] how [they are] to order and it was done by [K].” It is reasonable to suggest that the Claimant would know when he was violating policies he authored, when he “knew very well how to order, [and] what to order.”
-----
This is what happens when a judge forgets that we have a document known as the constitution to protect due-process rights. Perhaps she skipped that day in third grade.
After sending our masterpiece to the Department of Labor and the opposing party (the employer) via certified mail, it was off to school.
Since receiving the summer job offer yesterday, things really have started to look up. And then I went to Contracts. I have before described him as senile, but his class is absurd. The people who had him last semester tried to warn me. "His class is a joke," they said. Did I listen? Of course, not. I once had a professor during undergrad who I could best describe to others as senile. Contracts professor joins the club.
After one hour of shaking my head in disbelief, Nelson and I embarked on the next page of our pro-bono representation. We were consulting, interviewing and discussing the second case we have taken this year with our newest client. Usually I can pick winning cases. If only Nelson and I had known more; this case is going to be very tough to win. The employer sounds like a class act (sarcasm). My cross-examination will be quite fun.
After our meeting, I rushed to meet my Civil Procedure professor, who has become, in large-part, a mentor to me. He gave up over one hour of his time to discuss my life and my tribulations. He gave me some great advice, and it was great having an impartial ear on which I could bounce ideas and other such things.
After my meeting, I sat in the library and caught up on my reading assignments. You may have noticed that my favorite class was not yet mentioned. Usually it would be mentioned as the one thing to ruin my day, but that class was cancelled, and the untimely passing of the Yellow Highlighter was to take its place.
I was minding my own property, learning about adverse possession (which is oh-so-fun). I picked up my tubular friend, and went to highlight an especially important passage. I did as I usually do: slid its unforgiving felt tip along those very lucky words I wished to remember for the rest of my … day. This time, nothing happened. It was quick. My books shall never be the same - at least, not until I purchase another.
After the death of Old Yeller, I attended Property. As interesting as the professor makes the class, the information is a lost cause. Check property, and anything having to do with it, off my list of things to do.
And, today, I have no complaints. Things are going well, and I am again the joyful pessimist I once was.
I do not expect tomorrow will go as well, but I am often wrong. I really hope my wrong-streak stays alive. Bad days-a-comin. (I pray not.)
Today marks the passing of my prized highlighter. It was with me through the good and the bad. It always showed me the important parts of life. Compared to my Yellow Highlighter, none other is as much as standout as it once was. Rest in peace, beloved Yellow. I now have good reason to purchase that blue highlighter which has eluded my grasps since the beginning of the year.
Today started with a hot bowl of cream of wheat (prepared by my roommate). When your roommate makes you breakfast, nothing can go wrong the rest of the day.
We finally finished our client's appeal brief. If you do not know what it is, you are one lucky person. They are never fun, and often long. This one was not fun and it was very long. I, however, began to have fun with my writing towards the end. I feel the necessity to share a piece of the appeal, so a sense of my frustration will be relayed. Read on:
-----
Mr. K quite literally wrote the book on procedures and policies for his Employer. In reference to a question from Claimant’s Counsel regarding the existence of a company policy manual, the Employer’s witness responded that “They have a manual in the stores for the managers [and] how [they are] to order and it was done by [K].” It is reasonable to suggest that the Claimant would know when he was violating policies he authored, when he “knew very well how to order, [and] what to order.”
-----
This is what happens when a judge forgets that we have a document known as the constitution to protect due-process rights. Perhaps she skipped that day in third grade.
After sending our masterpiece to the Department of Labor and the opposing party (the employer) via certified mail, it was off to school.
Since receiving the summer job offer yesterday, things really have started to look up. And then I went to Contracts. I have before described him as senile, but his class is absurd. The people who had him last semester tried to warn me. "His class is a joke," they said. Did I listen? Of course, not. I once had a professor during undergrad who I could best describe to others as senile. Contracts professor joins the club.
After one hour of shaking my head in disbelief, Nelson and I embarked on the next page of our pro-bono representation. We were consulting, interviewing and discussing the second case we have taken this year with our newest client. Usually I can pick winning cases. If only Nelson and I had known more; this case is going to be very tough to win. The employer sounds like a class act (sarcasm). My cross-examination will be quite fun.
After our meeting, I rushed to meet my Civil Procedure professor, who has become, in large-part, a mentor to me. He gave up over one hour of his time to discuss my life and my tribulations. He gave me some great advice, and it was great having an impartial ear on which I could bounce ideas and other such things.
After my meeting, I sat in the library and caught up on my reading assignments. You may have noticed that my favorite class was not yet mentioned. Usually it would be mentioned as the one thing to ruin my day, but that class was cancelled, and the untimely passing of the Yellow Highlighter was to take its place.
I was minding my own property, learning about adverse possession (which is oh-so-fun). I picked up my tubular friend, and went to highlight an especially important passage. I did as I usually do: slid its unforgiving felt tip along those very lucky words I wished to remember for the rest of my … day. This time, nothing happened. It was quick. My books shall never be the same - at least, not until I purchase another.
After the death of Old Yeller, I attended Property. As interesting as the professor makes the class, the information is a lost cause. Check property, and anything having to do with it, off my list of things to do.
And, today, I have no complaints. Things are going well, and I am again the joyful pessimist I once was.
I do not expect tomorrow will go as well, but I am often wrong. I really hope my wrong-streak stays alive. Bad days-a-comin. (I pray not.)
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Please, Hold Your Applause - January 29, 2008
I always thought that beautiful women got tired of hearing comments about their looks. I am very wrong. Nobody could ever get tired of compliments. Well, at least not me.
I love wearing suits. This could, quite possibly, be one of the reasons I want to practice law. Suits, as one of my friends will vouch (he sold suits, and sold them well), make the man. I am certain that when one wears a suit, a cloak of super-powers is draped upon his body. This cloak gives a man confidence and a feeling of power. These two characteristics, when combined, cause bad things to happen. Luckily, I am impervious to said combination. When I returned from my interview and stepped into the law building, the compliments started flowing in. I never got tired of the ego building that occurred. It was fantastic.
The big interview occurred today. I used public transportation and did not get lost once. It was amazing. In fact, I did so well with directions that I showed up with over one hour to spare. I was wearing my CK suit (it is good luck) and donned a white dress-shirt and what is apparently my favorite red "power-tie". Some ladies told me that I tend to wear that tie often. I denied it, but I really do not pay that much attention to what tie I wear.
The interviewer was ruthless. She had questions that questioned my answers to her questions. I did the best I could.
Before transferring to the interviewer's office, an assistant in the legal hiring unit gave me what felt like a very well prepared and memorized speech about alerting the office if I should be so lucky as to get a job offer elsewhere. I can only imagine that telling them about another job offer will help my chances of getting selected to work there over the summer. Basically, my chances will rise from "none" to "slim". I will take whatever I can get.
Keeping this in mind, my goal became targeting prosecutor's offices who would hire me quickly. I wanted to be able to tell them that I had other pending job offers and that I needed notice of acceptance quickly. I am not the patient type.
Luckily, I did not have to wait long. When I arrived home from my single one-hour civil procedure class, I checked my email. I had a message waiting that told me I had been accepted to serve in a very large and reputable District Attorney's office back home. Not only is the position exciting, but I was given the opportunity to notify the other DA of a job offer.
I have a lot of in-school catching up to do, but I have accomplished a lot in the limited time I am allotted each day. My roommate and I finished our Appeals Brief (which will be submitted tomorrow). I feel very good about it, and I am happy with our end product.It will be a long time until I next take on an Appeal. They are not fun. Over 15 pages of passion and spite was yielded. I do not think the Judge who ruled against us will be very happy with what it says. But, hey. This is what she gets for not remembering that the Constitution gives people rights.
Life today was good. What a great way to end January. Things are starting to turn out well. I only hope this streak continues. I definitely needed a happy ending to this otherwise horrible month. I think I am enjoying myself more than ever because I know how bad things can get. I am all the stronger and resilient now. Everything happens for a reason, and I would not take most of these occurrences back.
And I couldn't be happier. (Thanks to the little people.)
I love wearing suits. This could, quite possibly, be one of the reasons I want to practice law. Suits, as one of my friends will vouch (he sold suits, and sold them well), make the man. I am certain that when one wears a suit, a cloak of super-powers is draped upon his body. This cloak gives a man confidence and a feeling of power. These two characteristics, when combined, cause bad things to happen. Luckily, I am impervious to said combination. When I returned from my interview and stepped into the law building, the compliments started flowing in. I never got tired of the ego building that occurred. It was fantastic.
The big interview occurred today. I used public transportation and did not get lost once. It was amazing. In fact, I did so well with directions that I showed up with over one hour to spare. I was wearing my CK suit (it is good luck) and donned a white dress-shirt and what is apparently my favorite red "power-tie". Some ladies told me that I tend to wear that tie often. I denied it, but I really do not pay that much attention to what tie I wear.
The interviewer was ruthless. She had questions that questioned my answers to her questions. I did the best I could.
Before transferring to the interviewer's office, an assistant in the legal hiring unit gave me what felt like a very well prepared and memorized speech about alerting the office if I should be so lucky as to get a job offer elsewhere. I can only imagine that telling them about another job offer will help my chances of getting selected to work there over the summer. Basically, my chances will rise from "none" to "slim". I will take whatever I can get.
Keeping this in mind, my goal became targeting prosecutor's offices who would hire me quickly. I wanted to be able to tell them that I had other pending job offers and that I needed notice of acceptance quickly. I am not the patient type.
Luckily, I did not have to wait long. When I arrived home from my single one-hour civil procedure class, I checked my email. I had a message waiting that told me I had been accepted to serve in a very large and reputable District Attorney's office back home. Not only is the position exciting, but I was given the opportunity to notify the other DA of a job offer.
I have a lot of in-school catching up to do, but I have accomplished a lot in the limited time I am allotted each day. My roommate and I finished our Appeals Brief (which will be submitted tomorrow). I feel very good about it, and I am happy with our end product.It will be a long time until I next take on an Appeal. They are not fun. Over 15 pages of passion and spite was yielded. I do not think the Judge who ruled against us will be very happy with what it says. But, hey. This is what she gets for not remembering that the Constitution gives people rights.
Life today was good. What a great way to end January. Things are starting to turn out well. I only hope this streak continues. I definitely needed a happy ending to this otherwise horrible month. I think I am enjoying myself more than ever because I know how bad things can get. I am all the stronger and resilient now. Everything happens for a reason, and I would not take most of these occurrences back.
And I couldn't be happier. (Thanks to the little people.)
Monday, January 28, 2008
A Preponderance of Ponderances - January 28, 2008
There was a time where I wanted to go into law and make a six-figure income. There was a period in which all I wanted to do was be wealthy. That time has passed.
I do not want to work in a big law firm. I do not want to ever be called an Associate. There will never be any work done solely for the purpose of doing the work. Adding and seeking to grow my billable hours will not ever be a thought I have.
I can do so much more.
Interview tomorrow morning with the Manhattan District Attorney for a summer clerkship. This is the ultimate summer position. This District Attorney's Office is the most well know and one of the most sought after in the nation. I am excited that I was even granted th opportunity to meet with the interview committee. Now, I have to give them the "wow" factor. Hopefully I still have it.
More soon... stay tuned.
I do not want to work in a big law firm. I do not want to ever be called an Associate. There will never be any work done solely for the purpose of doing the work. Adding and seeking to grow my billable hours will not ever be a thought I have.
I can do so much more.
Interview tomorrow morning with the Manhattan District Attorney for a summer clerkship. This is the ultimate summer position. This District Attorney's Office is the most well know and one of the most sought after in the nation. I am excited that I was even granted th opportunity to meet with the interview committee. Now, I have to give them the "wow" factor. Hopefully I still have it.
More soon... stay tuned.
Friday, January 25, 2008
A Breather - January 25, 2008
I had but one class today, which left me to relax and reflect on the events of yesterday.
It was quite the day. I woke up and actually looked at two different calendars to make sure that the day was not a dream. Nope: it was definitely reality. One day we will all look back and say,"Wow. January. Yeah, that month sucked."
Forget it. I have already begun to say that phrase. Over. And Over. (And over.)
Anyhow, Appellate Advocacy is finally a class where I feel like I will get some real-life practice. No more learning for the sake of learning. We are learning to practice. The professor really makes what would otherwise be a very boring and horribly overwhelming class one which is manageable and has an element of fun.
Since today was a nothing day, so is that which I have to describe.
A whole bunch of nothing.
Man, oh man. January is pretty horrible.
It was quite the day. I woke up and actually looked at two different calendars to make sure that the day was not a dream. Nope: it was definitely reality. One day we will all look back and say,"Wow. January. Yeah, that month sucked."
Forget it. I have already begun to say that phrase. Over. And Over. (And over.)
Anyhow, Appellate Advocacy is finally a class where I feel like I will get some real-life practice. No more learning for the sake of learning. We are learning to practice. The professor really makes what would otherwise be a very boring and horribly overwhelming class one which is manageable and has an element of fun.
Since today was a nothing day, so is that which I have to describe.
A whole bunch of nothing.
Man, oh man. January is pretty horrible.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The Storm - January 24, 2008
Be aware.
I do not even know where to start for today. I am sworn to secrecy and have an obligation to keep the confidence of those around me, but today was unbelievable. I could not dream up stuff this good. The irony of life poured down from everywhere around me. It was a very intense and somewhat entertaining day - which is a horrible thing to say because the entertainment is at the expense of others.
I do hope that these persons will understand that anything in here is not a negative at all. It is all because I care. That, and because I feel I should share.
However, this is off-topic.
Back to the main story line of my life: Contracts class was canceled yet again. Praise the almighty for another 10:00 AM class that was forever transferred into history. I had planned on waking up at my regular time, as I really wanted to have a relaxing and leisure-filled morning. But hey, if we have learned anything, we all know that my greatest plans tend to fall through. Why would today be any different?
Today, in the context that we shall be continuing, started at midnight - literally. The events started early… and they never stopped.
I went to bed late after a traumatically heartbreaking night and conversation. The clock flashed a time no later than 2:30AM upon the close of my eyes and head-on-pillow. When they next opened, my eyes locked on to the red digits of my clock. Three-thirty in the morning. Doth mine eyes deceive me? My phone was ringing - and what a pleasure it was to have my alma mater's fight song blaring in my ear. Trust me, it may be the only time I haven't appreciated the glorious sound of tradition and fierce notes.
You see, I leave my phone on at all times. I figure at the early hours of the morning, for somebody to call and wake me up, either (a) they are desperately in need of my assistance (be it bail money, advice, or a suicidal friend needing a talking down from a tree *cough*); or (b) the caller has a death-wish. Either way, I can usually provide said assistance.
So, the call came in exactly one hour after my sleep-deprived body was lulled to sleep by the incessant swishing of the draining heating oil in the walls. "Delightful," I thought.
There was in fact a friend in need. Oh boy were they in need. We laugh now - or, at least I do - but it is/was a very serious event.
Anyhow, luckily the setback was not enough to keep me from the first class that was not cancelled today. It was my very favorite methods class. (Hopefully you have caught on to the deep-rooted hatred I have for this class.) I have invented an incredibly exciting game that is played only in that classroom. I call it the "Floor Game." The object of the game is to stare as hard as you can at the floor so that the professor of this idiotic class does not call on me. Even though I play this game all alone, I tend to lose more often than not. With each passing minute, my hatred and disdain for the class grows. Needless to say, when I hate doing something, I let it show. So, when she called on me today to answer the world's most rudimentary question (because she thinks I am dumb) not only did I become upset because I lost the Floor Game again, but the fact that I had to actively participate in the general stupidity of the class irked me to the max.
I do believe I gave the most outwardly sarcastic answer that was humanly possible under these circumstances. It wreaked of "do not even think of calling on me again. Ever." I do not know for whom I feel more sorry: this professor for having to teach this curriculum, or me for having to experience it. Oh life.
After class was over, I remitted myself to dealing with problems of my own that will be referred to as the Catastrophe of 2007-2008. While I planned and mapped out a solution to the event, I was forced to deal with the first of many side-effects of said event. Not a fun time.
After the deal was dealt, I shifted my weight, placed one foot in front of the other, and made my way to civil procedure. Nothing bad to say about this class other than the fact that it is just way too short to be of any use. We have it for one hour a day, two days per week. There is nothing that can be accomplished in such a short time.
When the class concluded, I gathered my belongings and gallivanted to my vehicle with quickness and fortitude. It is cold. In the car, I affixed my earbud - I am a safe driver - and called said friend with the aforementioned problem on my way home. I told her that we were going to go to our favorite restaurant so that we could get her mind off the major life problem she experienced. Dinner was dandy. This happens to be the very first place I ate dinner with my father when we arrived in New York. It is a special place that always makes my friend and I very happy.
Upon arriving at home, I parked the car and checked the mailbox. Score one for me. I was granted an interview with the Manhattan District Attorney for a paid summer position. This is fantastic news! Go team! (I needed good news.)
After dinner I received another call. Actually, I did not really receive the call, I missed the call and a voicemail was left. I checked the voicemail, and it was another person with whom I share close ties. Last time she left a voicemail for me like that, it was, perhaps, the worst news I have ever, in my life, received. It was bad news again. Turns out person two suffered the same tragedy as aforementioned person one. Seriously, though: what are the chances?
Life has a funny way of kicking the dead horse. Except, this horse was meagerly entertaining. Does that make me a bad person?
Just know this: I feel like today was a good one. Perhaps it feels good because of the Jerry Springer (it could be worse) syndrome.
Anyhow, everybody is safe. Nobody got hurt. And lessons are learned. There is a bright side to everything. Plus, my life is not boring.
Oh, and happy birthday, Mommy. Poor Mother.
What a day.
I do not even know where to start for today. I am sworn to secrecy and have an obligation to keep the confidence of those around me, but today was unbelievable. I could not dream up stuff this good. The irony of life poured down from everywhere around me. It was a very intense and somewhat entertaining day - which is a horrible thing to say because the entertainment is at the expense of others.
I do hope that these persons will understand that anything in here is not a negative at all. It is all because I care. That, and because I feel I should share.
However, this is off-topic.
Back to the main story line of my life: Contracts class was canceled yet again. Praise the almighty for another 10:00 AM class that was forever transferred into history. I had planned on waking up at my regular time, as I really wanted to have a relaxing and leisure-filled morning. But hey, if we have learned anything, we all know that my greatest plans tend to fall through. Why would today be any different?
Today, in the context that we shall be continuing, started at midnight - literally. The events started early… and they never stopped.
I went to bed late after a traumatically heartbreaking night and conversation. The clock flashed a time no later than 2:30AM upon the close of my eyes and head-on-pillow. When they next opened, my eyes locked on to the red digits of my clock. Three-thirty in the morning. Doth mine eyes deceive me? My phone was ringing - and what a pleasure it was to have my alma mater's fight song blaring in my ear. Trust me, it may be the only time I haven't appreciated the glorious sound of tradition and fierce notes.
You see, I leave my phone on at all times. I figure at the early hours of the morning, for somebody to call and wake me up, either (a) they are desperately in need of my assistance (be it bail money, advice, or a suicidal friend needing a talking down from a tree *cough*); or (b) the caller has a death-wish. Either way, I can usually provide said assistance.
So, the call came in exactly one hour after my sleep-deprived body was lulled to sleep by the incessant swishing of the draining heating oil in the walls. "Delightful," I thought.
There was in fact a friend in need. Oh boy were they in need. We laugh now - or, at least I do - but it is/was a very serious event.
Anyhow, luckily the setback was not enough to keep me from the first class that was not cancelled today. It was my very favorite methods class. (Hopefully you have caught on to the deep-rooted hatred I have for this class.) I have invented an incredibly exciting game that is played only in that classroom. I call it the "Floor Game." The object of the game is to stare as hard as you can at the floor so that the professor of this idiotic class does not call on me. Even though I play this game all alone, I tend to lose more often than not. With each passing minute, my hatred and disdain for the class grows. Needless to say, when I hate doing something, I let it show. So, when she called on me today to answer the world's most rudimentary question (because she thinks I am dumb) not only did I become upset because I lost the Floor Game again, but the fact that I had to actively participate in the general stupidity of the class irked me to the max.
I do believe I gave the most outwardly sarcastic answer that was humanly possible under these circumstances. It wreaked of "do not even think of calling on me again. Ever." I do not know for whom I feel more sorry: this professor for having to teach this curriculum, or me for having to experience it. Oh life.
After class was over, I remitted myself to dealing with problems of my own that will be referred to as the Catastrophe of 2007-2008. While I planned and mapped out a solution to the event, I was forced to deal with the first of many side-effects of said event. Not a fun time.
After the deal was dealt, I shifted my weight, placed one foot in front of the other, and made my way to civil procedure. Nothing bad to say about this class other than the fact that it is just way too short to be of any use. We have it for one hour a day, two days per week. There is nothing that can be accomplished in such a short time.
When the class concluded, I gathered my belongings and gallivanted to my vehicle with quickness and fortitude. It is cold. In the car, I affixed my earbud - I am a safe driver - and called said friend with the aforementioned problem on my way home. I told her that we were going to go to our favorite restaurant so that we could get her mind off the major life problem she experienced. Dinner was dandy. This happens to be the very first place I ate dinner with my father when we arrived in New York. It is a special place that always makes my friend and I very happy.
Upon arriving at home, I parked the car and checked the mailbox. Score one for me. I was granted an interview with the Manhattan District Attorney for a paid summer position. This is fantastic news! Go team! (I needed good news.)
After dinner I received another call. Actually, I did not really receive the call, I missed the call and a voicemail was left. I checked the voicemail, and it was another person with whom I share close ties. Last time she left a voicemail for me like that, it was, perhaps, the worst news I have ever, in my life, received. It was bad news again. Turns out person two suffered the same tragedy as aforementioned person one. Seriously, though: what are the chances?
Life has a funny way of kicking the dead horse. Except, this horse was meagerly entertaining. Does that make me a bad person?
Just know this: I feel like today was a good one. Perhaps it feels good because of the Jerry Springer (it could be worse) syndrome.
Anyhow, everybody is safe. Nobody got hurt. And lessons are learned. There is a bright side to everything. Plus, my life is not boring.
Oh, and happy birthday, Mommy. Poor Mother.
What a day.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The Calm Before - January 23, 2008
Wednesdays are always very interesting. They usually revel in the glory of packed days and long classes. Why would today be any different?
I was elated to learn late Tuesday that my first class of the day was to be canceled. The professor was at the whim of bronchitis - apparently class was not meant to be.
I had planned on waking up at the regular time. I am trying to get on a sleep schedule that is conducive to law school and living life. Sleep, however, is at a high premium. After hitting my alarm at least five times - that is the number of times Lindsay heard the alarm blasting, there could have been many more, and most likely was - I finally rose from my bed like Frankenstein. I was angry at the world that I was removing myself from the warmth of my comforter for the dreary environment of legal learning. It is necessary to mention that I did experience my first dream in months. It was a fantastic dream, but was much to good to be true, as I soon realized. The book-notes version: it had somebody in it who I wish was not in it, but was. It made things in my mind even worse, but this is life, eh?
Anyhow, I went straight for the shower, as is my normal act for the morning. Showered, brushed my hair, dressed and teethed. After becoming very beautiful, I left for the day.
I had to sit through another one of those classes that I so despise with all my being. The Methods class was only an hour, but, in billable hours, costs me quite a bit of pain. Tomorrow is the two-hour day - not looking forward to that at all.
I made it through that class and rushed to meet the client for whom I am writing an appeal. He delivered the hearing transcripts and I went to go ready myself for Property Law.
I rarely mention my affair with Law and Order SVU, but it is in full force. Last night the show was about the "kidnapping" of human sperm, eggs and embryos. Definitely property law. In class, the topic of embryos came up. What a coincidence. When television goes right! We read the case Moore v. Regents of the University of California which was about a person's right to their tissues and cells in addition to research and informed consent. I happen to have just completed a research project on medical and research ethics. This was a good day. The discussion was intriguing and I was actually able to argue my point with clarity - not to mention I made an argument with which my professor fully agreed.
I had a doctor's appointment back at home 30 minutes after class, so I zoomed to there with speed. I made it on time, but the Doctor was not there. She was picking her son up from basketball practice. So, there I sat for one-half hour. So happy I rushed.
And, that was the day, afternoon, evening and everything else in-between.
Not the worst day ever.
Until midnight...
I was elated to learn late Tuesday that my first class of the day was to be canceled. The professor was at the whim of bronchitis - apparently class was not meant to be.
I had planned on waking up at the regular time. I am trying to get on a sleep schedule that is conducive to law school and living life. Sleep, however, is at a high premium. After hitting my alarm at least five times - that is the number of times Lindsay heard the alarm blasting, there could have been many more, and most likely was - I finally rose from my bed like Frankenstein. I was angry at the world that I was removing myself from the warmth of my comforter for the dreary environment of legal learning. It is necessary to mention that I did experience my first dream in months. It was a fantastic dream, but was much to good to be true, as I soon realized. The book-notes version: it had somebody in it who I wish was not in it, but was. It made things in my mind even worse, but this is life, eh?
Anyhow, I went straight for the shower, as is my normal act for the morning. Showered, brushed my hair, dressed and teethed. After becoming very beautiful, I left for the day.
I had to sit through another one of those classes that I so despise with all my being. The Methods class was only an hour, but, in billable hours, costs me quite a bit of pain. Tomorrow is the two-hour day - not looking forward to that at all.
I made it through that class and rushed to meet the client for whom I am writing an appeal. He delivered the hearing transcripts and I went to go ready myself for Property Law.
I rarely mention my affair with Law and Order SVU, but it is in full force. Last night the show was about the "kidnapping" of human sperm, eggs and embryos. Definitely property law. In class, the topic of embryos came up. What a coincidence. When television goes right! We read the case Moore v. Regents of the University of California which was about a person's right to their tissues and cells in addition to research and informed consent. I happen to have just completed a research project on medical and research ethics. This was a good day. The discussion was intriguing and I was actually able to argue my point with clarity - not to mention I made an argument with which my professor fully agreed.
I had a doctor's appointment back at home 30 minutes after class, so I zoomed to there with speed. I made it on time, but the Doctor was not there. She was picking her son up from basketball practice. So, there I sat for one-half hour. So happy I rushed.
And, that was the day, afternoon, evening and everything else in-between.
Not the worst day ever.
Until midnight...
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Back and Forth - January 22, 2008
Why in the world do they throw us back into a full schedule of law school and then immediately give us the next Monday off? It plays with our minds. It screws with our sanity. They take away our lives, then give us a little piece of happiness which is then book-ended with another dose of law school. No sugar to help this medicine go down.
Tuesday is what the people who make all the decisions refer to as a "Legislative Monday." This simply means that they invoke a Monday schedule to make up for all the Mondays that are missed throughout the semester. Who really wants to unfairly rid ourselves of the full load of Mondays?
Monday is a one-class day. Property law was slated as the main event, and the readings for this class have become all-the-more boring and difficult. As interesting as it was reading about shooting and killing ducks, foxes and other animals, the present assignments regarding intellectual property (ie: patents, copyrights and trademarks) makes me want to cry. Definitely not my favorite area of law. At all.
I somehow made it through class without being called on. After class, I zoomed over to the dentist by my house to receive my yearly masochistic act (this time a root canal). After the root canal was complete, I drove back to school - mouth still numb and saliva most likely dripping onto my jacket, where it probably froze from the mind-boggling cold weather.
Upon arriving back at school, I sat in the library for the next five-to-six hours, waiting to interview my newest client. When 8:00 PM rolled around, I moved myself (via the wobbly legs I had neglected over the prior hours) to the law school foyer where I met Nelson and said client.
Our client may be the nicest man I will have the pleasure to serve (free of charge, that is). His believability is amazing - with every word that he says, you cannot help but understand it as the complete truth. He left us sympathizing with everything he says. Serving him pro-bono will most definitely be a pleasure, which is not often the case with clients who partake in free or provided services.
One more day down. Too many more to go.
Why, tomorrow is another very intense day.
Tuesday is what the people who make all the decisions refer to as a "Legislative Monday." This simply means that they invoke a Monday schedule to make up for all the Mondays that are missed throughout the semester. Who really wants to unfairly rid ourselves of the full load of Mondays?
Monday is a one-class day. Property law was slated as the main event, and the readings for this class have become all-the-more boring and difficult. As interesting as it was reading about shooting and killing ducks, foxes and other animals, the present assignments regarding intellectual property (ie: patents, copyrights and trademarks) makes me want to cry. Definitely not my favorite area of law. At all.
I somehow made it through class without being called on. After class, I zoomed over to the dentist by my house to receive my yearly masochistic act (this time a root canal). After the root canal was complete, I drove back to school - mouth still numb and saliva most likely dripping onto my jacket, where it probably froze from the mind-boggling cold weather.
Upon arriving back at school, I sat in the library for the next five-to-six hours, waiting to interview my newest client. When 8:00 PM rolled around, I moved myself (via the wobbly legs I had neglected over the prior hours) to the law school foyer where I met Nelson and said client.
Our client may be the nicest man I will have the pleasure to serve (free of charge, that is). His believability is amazing - with every word that he says, you cannot help but understand it as the complete truth. He left us sympathizing with everything he says. Serving him pro-bono will most definitely be a pleasure, which is not often the case with clients who partake in free or provided services.
One more day down. Too many more to go.
Why, tomorrow is another very intense day.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Oh, Life. Why? - January 18, 2008
Today was a very simple day. At 7am I woke-up and questioned my will to continue living. After deciding that life was good, I proceeded to class which was slated to begin at 9am. The following three-hours of class somehow whizzed by without a problem. At noon, I gathered my belongings and headed for home.
Once I parked my car, I was stopped by my neighbor, Dave. He is quite the gum flapper. He gave me a box of collectible books for my Father - very thoughtful of him - and discussed life and such for the next thirty-minutes or so. Once I escaped his grasp, I sat on my butt and pondered life.
This has been the way things are for me lately. I have been doing a lot of thinking, but never come to any conclusions. It is very well, though. I do not think I want to reach any decisions - may not come out exactly how I want things to result.
Anyhow, I was looking forward to my Friday Night Getaway. It was a friend's birthday, and a bunch of us had planned on going into the city to partake in bar-related festivities and consume our troubles away. The planning was fantastic, but the application was lacking. Everything was wonderful, but for my being on antibiotics. No drinks for me. Seems the big life planner has it in for me.
I got to experience the drunk train home from Penn Station, which apparently is part of the "Long Island Experience." And an experience it was. It is hard to explain, but imagine nearly 250 people lined up in front of a giant board that displays the trains and what track they are on. Simple enough. Until you realize that there are many dozens of people more than seats on the one train. Everybody watches the board, waiting for it to display the number of the track the train is on. Once it shows the number a free-for-all stampede ensnares each person. Running down stairs was never so much fun.
We all luckily got seats, and were rewarded with the accompaniment of two very inebriated young ladies. The star of the drunk-show was the one sitting next to my friend who dropped her phone four times, and then could not understand why the SIM card would not work. She would randomly insert herself into the conversation and had a delightful conversation that everybody on the train could hear because of her lack of aptitude regarding her volume level.
At one point, my far-gone friend J turned to me and began to annoyingly complain about being annoying and drunk on the train. Classic.
At the end of the ride, pure entertainment ensued when one of the passengers who was above the legal limit - for sure - locked herself in the bathroom and could not get out. One of the conductors had to be called to assist. He thought it was a joke at first, but it was not. He had to yell through the door that she had to UNLOCK the door to get out. She said it was not locked - he said it was. This went on for a good minute or two. He finally said, "Look lady, turn the lock to the right." She did so, and the door opened. Imagine that.
I walked through my front door at a little past 4am. What a long night.
Welcome to my life.
Once I parked my car, I was stopped by my neighbor, Dave. He is quite the gum flapper. He gave me a box of collectible books for my Father - very thoughtful of him - and discussed life and such for the next thirty-minutes or so. Once I escaped his grasp, I sat on my butt and pondered life.
This has been the way things are for me lately. I have been doing a lot of thinking, but never come to any conclusions. It is very well, though. I do not think I want to reach any decisions - may not come out exactly how I want things to result.
Anyhow, I was looking forward to my Friday Night Getaway. It was a friend's birthday, and a bunch of us had planned on going into the city to partake in bar-related festivities and consume our troubles away. The planning was fantastic, but the application was lacking. Everything was wonderful, but for my being on antibiotics. No drinks for me. Seems the big life planner has it in for me.
I got to experience the drunk train home from Penn Station, which apparently is part of the "Long Island Experience." And an experience it was. It is hard to explain, but imagine nearly 250 people lined up in front of a giant board that displays the trains and what track they are on. Simple enough. Until you realize that there are many dozens of people more than seats on the one train. Everybody watches the board, waiting for it to display the number of the track the train is on. Once it shows the number a free-for-all stampede ensnares each person. Running down stairs was never so much fun.
We all luckily got seats, and were rewarded with the accompaniment of two very inebriated young ladies. The star of the drunk-show was the one sitting next to my friend who dropped her phone four times, and then could not understand why the SIM card would not work. She would randomly insert herself into the conversation and had a delightful conversation that everybody on the train could hear because of her lack of aptitude regarding her volume level.
At one point, my far-gone friend J turned to me and began to annoyingly complain about being annoying and drunk on the train. Classic.
At the end of the ride, pure entertainment ensued when one of the passengers who was above the legal limit - for sure - locked herself in the bathroom and could not get out. One of the conductors had to be called to assist. He thought it was a joke at first, but it was not. He had to yell through the door that she had to UNLOCK the door to get out. She said it was not locked - he said it was. This went on for a good minute or two. He finally said, "Look lady, turn the lock to the right." She did so, and the door opened. Imagine that.
I walked through my front door at a little past 4am. What a long night.
Welcome to my life.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
The Caning - January 17, 2007
On Thursday I was to experience the renowned professor's class which I missed Wednesday because of my dental appointment. I have heard many things about him - no two people had the same outlook on his class. These descriptions ranged from hilarious and entertaining to senile and unbelievably forgetful.
I was not let down.
A class where notes do not matter, the discussion is worthless and grading is random, at best, is just about the best description possible. Additionally, the diverse descriptions of the professor all fit the bill.
Considered the father of legal ethics, the professor is the most highly respected and most well-known professor the law school employs, so having him is something about which one should be proud. I may not learn anything, but I sure will get an education.
After nearly 45 minutes of droning students into a deep haze of slumber, the professor stood up from his tall-chair and began to walk to the side of the class room. Halfway to the wall, the professor (who was aided by a cane) stopped mid-sentence turned to the class and said, "my friend brought me this can back from oversees." He continued to explain to us that the cane was made with silver and camel bone.
"Isn't it a spectacular cane?" he asked.
He immediately continued from where he left off.
I turned to Michelle, who was faithfully seated at my side, and asked her if that really just happened. I suppose it did. This is what I have to look forward to, and it only gets worse.
At one point, he said "Listen, breaches…" and paused after breaches to contemplate how he was going to continue. I had been day-dreaming, but my head snapped to attention. He left just enough time after breaches that I thought he had said something very different.
Pray for me.
After the two-hour class came to a close, I had two hours of the class I despise the most. If one-hour yesterday was horrible, I knew that today's two-hour session would ruin my life. And, it did.
The "professor," for lack of a better title, does not call on people unless they raise their hands. This is a steadfast rule, unless, of course, you are me. She posed a question and was met with complete silence. She looked at me… I immediately stared at the ground to thwart her questioning gaze. My attempts to evade questioning failed, and I was picked out of the crowd. Called on once again.
When I attempt to describe to people how often I am called upon by professors, they usually doubt my stories. Well, I have a story to beat all others. I was the first person a professor in a class - in which I am not enrolled - chose to call on this semester. I have no idea how these things happen, but I am the chosen-one in classes in which I am not even present or on the attendance sheet. This is my life.
Shortly after the two-hours of torture, I attended the one-hour civil procedure class which I find rudimentary and easy, and my grades in this class last semester suggest full comprehension. The professor is very animated - as I have stated before, he is a fun professor to learn from.
Lindsay and I missed our weekly Wednesday night "date night" during which we usually watch our "girly" television drama (which shall remain unnamed) and have dinner. We rescheduled for tonight and retrieved food from our favorite Italian restaurant. It was a very nice night that was peppered with the completion of work for tomorrow's appellate advocacy class.
Another day I never have to repeat. Almost done with Week 1.
I was not let down.
A class where notes do not matter, the discussion is worthless and grading is random, at best, is just about the best description possible. Additionally, the diverse descriptions of the professor all fit the bill.
Considered the father of legal ethics, the professor is the most highly respected and most well-known professor the law school employs, so having him is something about which one should be proud. I may not learn anything, but I sure will get an education.
After nearly 45 minutes of droning students into a deep haze of slumber, the professor stood up from his tall-chair and began to walk to the side of the class room. Halfway to the wall, the professor (who was aided by a cane) stopped mid-sentence turned to the class and said, "my friend brought me this can back from oversees." He continued to explain to us that the cane was made with silver and camel bone.
"Isn't it a spectacular cane?" he asked.
He immediately continued from where he left off.
I turned to Michelle, who was faithfully seated at my side, and asked her if that really just happened. I suppose it did. This is what I have to look forward to, and it only gets worse.
At one point, he said "Listen, breaches…" and paused after breaches to contemplate how he was going to continue. I had been day-dreaming, but my head snapped to attention. He left just enough time after breaches that I thought he had said something very different.
Pray for me.
After the two-hour class came to a close, I had two hours of the class I despise the most. If one-hour yesterday was horrible, I knew that today's two-hour session would ruin my life. And, it did.
The "professor," for lack of a better title, does not call on people unless they raise their hands. This is a steadfast rule, unless, of course, you are me. She posed a question and was met with complete silence. She looked at me… I immediately stared at the ground to thwart her questioning gaze. My attempts to evade questioning failed, and I was picked out of the crowd. Called on once again.
When I attempt to describe to people how often I am called upon by professors, they usually doubt my stories. Well, I have a story to beat all others. I was the first person a professor in a class - in which I am not enrolled - chose to call on this semester. I have no idea how these things happen, but I am the chosen-one in classes in which I am not even present or on the attendance sheet. This is my life.
Shortly after the two-hours of torture, I attended the one-hour civil procedure class which I find rudimentary and easy, and my grades in this class last semester suggest full comprehension. The professor is very animated - as I have stated before, he is a fun professor to learn from.
Lindsay and I missed our weekly Wednesday night "date night" during which we usually watch our "girly" television drama (which shall remain unnamed) and have dinner. We rescheduled for tonight and retrieved food from our favorite Italian restaurant. It was a very nice night that was peppered with the completion of work for tomorrow's appellate advocacy class.
Another day I never have to repeat. Almost done with Week 1.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Oh Well - January 16, 2008
Well, well, well. I am not well.
There is a trend in my life. Well, there is more than one, but I refer to the trend of dental ills. For the second time this year - both times in the beginning of each semester - I have been struck with a mandible mishap. Toothaches, TMJ, infections, fillings gone wrong. You know, the good stuff.
As a result of an emergency dentist appointment (with a very jovial Jewish dentist, who had a wise-crack for everything) I missed my very first contracts class this semester which was with a new professor. It is a pleasant way to start out the new semester; you know, having to tell the professor that you are missing the first class (and actually missing the class). I even lost the opportunity to witness my favorite (feel the sarcasm) person get "called-out" for her attempt to give a typical long, non-understandable, convoluted and non-answer answer. She raised her hand, the professor then called on her, she gave her monologue, which prompted him to reply "was that even an answer?" I am depressed that I missed it.
I then attended the world's worst designed legal methods class, which is another story for another time.
After wanting to bang my head repeatedly on the desk for the hour-long session, I had a three-plus hour break in which I was able to contemplate my loathe for previously mentioned legal methods class and prepare myself for property.
As I said before, the professor is a very excited person. Her enthusiasm is amazing. I was trying to figure out her background; it is not hard to see that she was brought-up in an interesting household. I could not place what this special characteristic was until she stopped in the middle of her zooming around the room and ceased enthusiastically discussing the functionalist theory of property.
"I apologize," she said. "I should tell you all that I had a Southern Baptist upbringing."
Ah-ha! That is it. She fits, with careful precision, the stereo-typical, straight-from-the-movies, praise-the-lord Southern Baptist churchgoer. Amen!
Anyhow, we shall back up.
Remember that luck that I have. Solid, dirty luck. I was engaged in class on Monday. I answered questions, I interacted with the professor. I was on-the-ball. However, when a professor using a million-dollar-phrase for the first time, in a question, how is one to answer? Just ask me, I know how to answer the question.
"Mr…," she said as she leaned forward to look at my name card. "H!"
Good lord, why me. Can I get the opposite of Hallelujah? Cue the choir.
"Mr. H, how does the functionalist theory argue this point?"
And then I answered. Keep in mind I had absolutely no clue what she was talking about, nor what she was referring to.
And I proceeded. "The functionalist theory argues…" I said. Insert a 10 second pause as I quickly scanned my notes without success. "I have absolutely no clue."
Stupid honesty. It always gives me trouble.
She replied by questioning how I could not answer the question given it was the topic of the previous day for two hours. Maybe if she called it the functionalist theory for the two hours, I would know. However, she really likes me, which is probably why I was the first person to be called-on in class today.
She also authors some interesting comments and quotes, as I will now share. Keep in mind, the context is a property law class and she is an exuberant person. Mental pictures are necessary; get out your brain-draining paint brush.
"If you own a $60,000 car that is bling-blinged out … there may be a few externalities involved."
"For those of you who asked for leniency on the readings for today, and for those ladies who I overheard in the bathroom talking about how horrible the assignment was… rest assured, it was not easy."
"Who here is confused by the questioned I just asked" Everybody raises their hand. "Ok. I should not have even asked. I, too, was confused."
To Student 1 - "So, argue for the Plaintiff."
To The Class (and herself) - "Wait, who is arguing for the Plaintiff?"
To The Student 2 - "Are you the Defendant? Yes, you were."
Back To Student 1- "So, you give us the view of the Defendant. No. I mean the Plaintiff."
Student 2 Raises Her Hand - "I just argued for [the Plaintiff]"
To Somebody In The Ceiling - "Oh gosh. Let's start over."
"Animus Revertendi - I obviously don't know how to pronounce it, but I can spell it for you."
There is a trend in my life. Well, there is more than one, but I refer to the trend of dental ills. For the second time this year - both times in the beginning of each semester - I have been struck with a mandible mishap. Toothaches, TMJ, infections, fillings gone wrong. You know, the good stuff.
As a result of an emergency dentist appointment (with a very jovial Jewish dentist, who had a wise-crack for everything) I missed my very first contracts class this semester which was with a new professor. It is a pleasant way to start out the new semester; you know, having to tell the professor that you are missing the first class (and actually missing the class). I even lost the opportunity to witness my favorite (feel the sarcasm) person get "called-out" for her attempt to give a typical long, non-understandable, convoluted and non-answer answer. She raised her hand, the professor then called on her, she gave her monologue, which prompted him to reply "was that even an answer?" I am depressed that I missed it.
I then attended the world's worst designed legal methods class, which is another story for another time.
After wanting to bang my head repeatedly on the desk for the hour-long session, I had a three-plus hour break in which I was able to contemplate my loathe for previously mentioned legal methods class and prepare myself for property.
As I said before, the professor is a very excited person. Her enthusiasm is amazing. I was trying to figure out her background; it is not hard to see that she was brought-up in an interesting household. I could not place what this special characteristic was until she stopped in the middle of her zooming around the room and ceased enthusiastically discussing the functionalist theory of property.
"I apologize," she said. "I should tell you all that I had a Southern Baptist upbringing."
Ah-ha! That is it. She fits, with careful precision, the stereo-typical, straight-from-the-movies, praise-the-lord Southern Baptist churchgoer. Amen!
Anyhow, we shall back up.
Remember that luck that I have. Solid, dirty luck. I was engaged in class on Monday. I answered questions, I interacted with the professor. I was on-the-ball. However, when a professor using a million-dollar-phrase for the first time, in a question, how is one to answer? Just ask me, I know how to answer the question.
"Mr…," she said as she leaned forward to look at my name card. "H!"
Good lord, why me. Can I get the opposite of Hallelujah? Cue the choir.
"Mr. H, how does the functionalist theory argue this point?"
And then I answered. Keep in mind I had absolutely no clue what she was talking about, nor what she was referring to.
And I proceeded. "The functionalist theory argues…" I said. Insert a 10 second pause as I quickly scanned my notes without success. "I have absolutely no clue."
Stupid honesty. It always gives me trouble.
She replied by questioning how I could not answer the question given it was the topic of the previous day for two hours. Maybe if she called it the functionalist theory for the two hours, I would know. However, she really likes me, which is probably why I was the first person to be called-on in class today.
She also authors some interesting comments and quotes, as I will now share. Keep in mind, the context is a property law class and she is an exuberant person. Mental pictures are necessary; get out your brain-draining paint brush.
"If you own a $60,000 car that is bling-blinged out … there may be a few externalities involved."
"For those of you who asked for leniency on the readings for today, and for those ladies who I overheard in the bathroom talking about how horrible the assignment was… rest assured, it was not easy."
"Who here is confused by the questioned I just asked" Everybody raises their hand. "Ok. I should not have even asked. I, too, was confused."
To Student 1 - "So, argue for the Plaintiff."
To The Class (and herself) - "Wait, who is arguing for the Plaintiff?"
To The Student 2 - "Are you the Defendant? Yes, you were."
Back To Student 1- "So, you give us the view of the Defendant. No. I mean the Plaintiff."
Student 2 Raises Her Hand - "I just argued for [the Plaintiff]"
To Somebody In The Ceiling - "Oh gosh. Let's start over."
"Animus Revertendi - I obviously don't know how to pronounce it, but I can spell it for you."
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
A Whole Bunch of Bleh - January 15, 2008
My class scheduled is screwed up. It looks as if somebody in the academic scheduling office got very bored and decided to spice things up. Too bad they were able to enjoy the seasonings; us students were left moldy crumbs of Dick Butkus (when he tried acting).
I have one class on Tuesdays for a grand total of 50 minutes. This fabulous 50 minute period is brought to you by the makers of "we ruin your life and take your soul".
I got to enjoy (in the middle of the day, for less than one hour) Civil Procedure Part Deux. Subtract a credit, add the confusing material and bake until golden brown. We get a whole two credits this semester for the class. At least I understand the material. I also really like the professor - maybe I like him because he likes me; maybe it is the awesome letter of recommendation he just wrote.
---
Now, it is time for everybody's favorite time of the day: Complainfest Tuesday.
Frustration with just about every facet of law school is setting in. Roadblocks and brick walls at every turn. Hopefully I am just going through a phase, like the terrible-twos.
Perhaps I will disseminate the story about the lucky life I lead, but I am tired and not in the mood. Bitter days are here to stay.
To sleep I go. The goal is to actually reach the slumber state tonight. Last night, no sleep was enjoyed. I did, however, get my CNN fix.
Oh, life.
I have one class on Tuesdays for a grand total of 50 minutes. This fabulous 50 minute period is brought to you by the makers of "we ruin your life and take your soul".
I got to enjoy (in the middle of the day, for less than one hour) Civil Procedure Part Deux. Subtract a credit, add the confusing material and bake until golden brown. We get a whole two credits this semester for the class. At least I understand the material. I also really like the professor - maybe I like him because he likes me; maybe it is the awesome letter of recommendation he just wrote.
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Now, it is time for everybody's favorite time of the day: Complainfest Tuesday.
Frustration with just about every facet of law school is setting in. Roadblocks and brick walls at every turn. Hopefully I am just going through a phase, like the terrible-twos.
Perhaps I will disseminate the story about the lucky life I lead, but I am tired and not in the mood. Bitter days are here to stay.
To sleep I go. The goal is to actually reach the slumber state tonight. Last night, no sleep was enjoyed. I did, however, get my CNN fix.
Oh, life.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Starting Over For The First Time - January 14, 2008
Starting the second semester of law school is much harder than the first. The first semester is wrought with anxiety and an enhanced sense of self. You go into it ready to conquer the world, having heard stories of struggle and hard-work. The second semester is not easy to enter by any means.
Winter break is like inviting starving children in Africa to a Thanksgiving feast and then sending them right back from where they came (without a take-home goodie-bag). It is cruel. After having worked my tail off for 16 weeks of classes and two weeks of finals (starving myself of life and the will to continue), the law school bids us students adieu - a fond farewell to enjoy freedom and relaxation for nearly one month (the proverbial Thanksgiving feast). After said month of hungrily snatching up every scrap of enjoyment, we return to the bowels of suppression (hunger and starvation). We now understand more what we are missing and what we will be subjected to. It is an assault to our senses and a battery on our souls. It is no fun.
Prayers for a snow day were excreted throughout Sunday from law students of all demographics. Hopes for just one more day of freedom and one more day of suspended anxiety was all people needed. I was going to experience New England weather at its best, but alas, it did not arrive. No snow for me this time. No frightful trip on icy roads for this California boy. Clear roads and cold weather were all that greeted me. The "Nor'easter", to which it is referred, decided to tip-toe around New York.
With luck that only I can muster, I awoke today to a lack of warm shower water. There is nothing like the fresh scent of coffee brewing in the kitchen (no more than a few feet from my room) and an icy shower to rejuvenate one's senses; not that I am a sensible person.
I studied and read all week for the first class I had. Property law, not to be confused with real estate law, is one to which I am thoroughly anticipating. I was greeted with a fifth-grade lesson on discovery and conquest which aimed to lay the foundation to property rights. The textbook makes me unhappy, as it seems to be a conglomerate of edited-copy-paste information. Without amusement, I made my way through the material knowing that I was bound to be called on during this very first class. Even with more than 100 peers sitting beside me, the traditional "calling-on-me" (like the running of the bulls, but in law school)took place.
I guess I have a "I have a thoughtful, intelligent answer that I am currently pondering" look, because that is usually how I get selected (when not at random). The professor posed a question standing not five-feet away from me, and I felt it wrong to ignore her presence when so nearby. I quickly gave her a glance - I do believe I made a cardinal sin: I made eye contact. Let me be the first to say that if you ignore the elephant in the room, the elephant is not there, and you cannot make me think otherwise. Same applies with in-class eye-contact; the professor will not usually call on you if you are not acknowledging their presence (and, no: I am not labeling professors as elephants).
She decided to keep questioning me for a considerable amount of time in comparison to many of my peers, but I was on the ball. History, be it United States, world or legal, is a subject with which I am not afraid to discuss, argue and lament.
The professor teaches in a style I tend to favor when tutoring, speaking and training. She gets very excited about the subject and is not overbearing. This is a very inviting method of teaching that makes even the most dull subject interesting. Enthusiasm is contagious and highly appreciated.
I cannot believe I am doing this (read: subjecting myself to another semester of law school) to myself again. Well, belief is not necessary. I shall continue to inflict distress on my tattered body. My second tour of duty has begun, and so has my will to quit. I have completed one semester - how bad can the second be?
Stay tuned.
Winter break is like inviting starving children in Africa to a Thanksgiving feast and then sending them right back from where they came (without a take-home goodie-bag). It is cruel. After having worked my tail off for 16 weeks of classes and two weeks of finals (starving myself of life and the will to continue), the law school bids us students adieu - a fond farewell to enjoy freedom and relaxation for nearly one month (the proverbial Thanksgiving feast). After said month of hungrily snatching up every scrap of enjoyment, we return to the bowels of suppression (hunger and starvation). We now understand more what we are missing and what we will be subjected to. It is an assault to our senses and a battery on our souls. It is no fun.
Prayers for a snow day were excreted throughout Sunday from law students of all demographics. Hopes for just one more day of freedom and one more day of suspended anxiety was all people needed. I was going to experience New England weather at its best, but alas, it did not arrive. No snow for me this time. No frightful trip on icy roads for this California boy. Clear roads and cold weather were all that greeted me. The "Nor'easter", to which it is referred, decided to tip-toe around New York.
With luck that only I can muster, I awoke today to a lack of warm shower water. There is nothing like the fresh scent of coffee brewing in the kitchen (no more than a few feet from my room) and an icy shower to rejuvenate one's senses; not that I am a sensible person.
I studied and read all week for the first class I had. Property law, not to be confused with real estate law, is one to which I am thoroughly anticipating. I was greeted with a fifth-grade lesson on discovery and conquest which aimed to lay the foundation to property rights. The textbook makes me unhappy, as it seems to be a conglomerate of edited-copy-paste information. Without amusement, I made my way through the material knowing that I was bound to be called on during this very first class. Even with more than 100 peers sitting beside me, the traditional "calling-on-me" (like the running of the bulls, but in law school)took place.
I guess I have a "I have a thoughtful, intelligent answer that I am currently pondering" look, because that is usually how I get selected (when not at random). The professor posed a question standing not five-feet away from me, and I felt it wrong to ignore her presence when so nearby. I quickly gave her a glance - I do believe I made a cardinal sin: I made eye contact. Let me be the first to say that if you ignore the elephant in the room, the elephant is not there, and you cannot make me think otherwise. Same applies with in-class eye-contact; the professor will not usually call on you if you are not acknowledging their presence (and, no: I am not labeling professors as elephants).
She decided to keep questioning me for a considerable amount of time in comparison to many of my peers, but I was on the ball. History, be it United States, world or legal, is a subject with which I am not afraid to discuss, argue and lament.
The professor teaches in a style I tend to favor when tutoring, speaking and training. She gets very excited about the subject and is not overbearing. This is a very inviting method of teaching that makes even the most dull subject interesting. Enthusiasm is contagious and highly appreciated.
I cannot believe I am doing this (read: subjecting myself to another semester of law school) to myself again. Well, belief is not necessary. I shall continue to inflict distress on my tattered body. My second tour of duty has begun, and so has my will to quit. I have completed one semester - how bad can the second be?
Stay tuned.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Winter Break, A Review
I slept. A lot.
I relaxed a whole bunch.
I had a visit from a few friends.
I caught up on living and being a normal person
And then I fell far behind again.
And then prepared to stress.
Then I lost sleep.
I relaxed a whole bunch.
I had a visit from a few friends.
I caught up on living and being a normal person
And then I fell far behind again.
And then prepared to stress.
Then I lost sleep.
Friday, January 11, 2008
The Wind Up is a Pitch!
Grades, grades, grades. It is all people want to hear.
Let me first start by stating that I am rather "ashamed" of my performance in classes, but there is absolutely no reason to be. The saying "you reap what you sow" has absolutely no meaning to me, and my grades will serve a greater benefit to my character, aptitude and tenacity than they would be otherwise. I never share my grades or my scores, so dreaming and guessing will be the only insight one will get from me.
There are very few times in my life when I have doubted my abilities. But I am an honest guy. I have my imperfections, and perhaps they rose to the top. Every time I trudge on and go about my business, I become a stronger person. I never quit (I take that back: I quit high school choir, but I count that as having to decide between a love and a hate), and as far as cliché goes, this is all I know. I will not be defeated. Second semester here I come.
Let me first start by stating that I am rather "ashamed" of my performance in classes, but there is absolutely no reason to be. The saying "you reap what you sow" has absolutely no meaning to me, and my grades will serve a greater benefit to my character, aptitude and tenacity than they would be otherwise. I never share my grades or my scores, so dreaming and guessing will be the only insight one will get from me.
There are very few times in my life when I have doubted my abilities. But I am an honest guy. I have my imperfections, and perhaps they rose to the top. Every time I trudge on and go about my business, I become a stronger person. I never quit (I take that back: I quit high school choir, but I count that as having to decide between a love and a hate), and as far as cliché goes, this is all I know. I will not be defeated. Second semester here I come.
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