On the Merits of Planning and Preparedness

I turned in my petition to the Associate Dean this morning to enroll in a summer school course. I didn’t speak to him, but to his secretary; she kept saying, “Do you have this?” and “Do you know this?” and (pursuant to my in-depth info-gathering session) I was able to answer everything in the affirmative by motioning to the info sheet I attached to my letter (how many credits, when, where...) She seemed quite surprised that I had accumulated all the required information on the first try; I suppose that’s the payoff for preparedness.

Well, the Beatles contend that “All you need is love,” but I would replace that final word with “Determination.” Last semester, I developed this intricate system for making exam notecards on my computer. It involved having four Microsoft Word windows open concurrently and the demise of about three San Francisco Redwoods as I figured out how to print them correctly... then I had to cut them all and glut them, and it was this whole boring, tedious, time-sucking, mind-numbing process. So I opened Word last night and tinkered and tinkered and tweaked and tweaked and, through trial-and-error, developed this Brilliant new system (in my humble opinion). I made a document template (when you open it, it opens blank and ready to save with new information rather than already written-on) that has four notecards to a page, like typing in address labels. I can cut and paste from my class notes into the document and then press “tab” to add the information for the back side of the notecard. When I print, all I have to do is fold the paper in half, slap on a little glue and make three cuts, because I have everything pre-measured and locked in place. It sounds so stupid, but it’s such a fantastic time saver, and seems like it will be terribly effective. Now I can make notecards as I progress through the semester, so when I reach crunch-time, I’ll have both my outlines and my notecards finished and thus have the means to focus exclusively on digesting the information. Yes!!

For Statutory Interpretation today, we read a case about illegal drugs that was actually remarkably interesting. The big debate was, do you measure LSD with its “carrier” or “mixture” or without, for purposes of determining sentencing? Apparently (the case informed us), LSD is remarkably light, so it’s diluted with a fluid and painted onto a piece of paper, which is then cut into tiny squares to constitute a “dose.” So, when we’re determining sentencing, do we measure the drug’s weight with the paper or without? If you measure with, then someone who drops a little bit of drug in a glass of orange juice would receive maximum sentencing, because the OJ (the carrier) would weigh a ton; on the other hand, someone with a fingerful of powder, which obviously is a much larger amount of drug, would receive a much smaller sentence due to the lack of additional “carrier” weight. So, the whole point of the class is Statutory Interpretation - do we interpret the statute’s language to include mixers and carriers, or exclude them? On what grounds? And is this really the type of thing we ought to be learning in law school?

You Never Know...

So Captain Obsessed-With-Obtaining-a-Great-Seat lucked out this morning - there’s a class in my Criminal Procedure room that starts and ends at precisely the same time as my Americans with Disabilities Act, so nobody had the opportunity to weasel in before me and score my seats, nor did I have to sacrifice a jacket and folder to the cause.

While reading for criminal procedure last night (my last new one), I realized that all six of the first cases assigned in the book involved black guys being screwed over. Additionally, I couldn’t find a Commercial Outline keyed particularly to this book (usually you can find them in thirty versions, one specifically made from a particular version of a text by a particular author); however, I couldn’t even find a crappy outline for this textbook. Logic would systematically conclude, then, that the professor must have had a particular reason for choosing so obscure a text. I drew my conclusion and this morning, in walked a black guy. He called on me today, third, because hw cleverly decided to start at the top of the alphabet calling on people and work his way down. After we chewed the case apart and debated the holding, he asked whether I agreed with the court’s ruling, that evidence procured through torture or coercion violates the due process clause of the fourteenth amendment and thus is not admissible in court even if the person is unquestionably guilty. I answered in the affirmative and made what I thought would be a massive mistake by stating, “Well, I’m the wrong one to ask, because I’m really opposed to putting anyone away.” His eyebrows shot off his forehead, and he proceeded to assault me with hypothetical situations to throw me off the course, ranging from “Well, I shot you because I just don’t like you; you ask too many questions in class” (to which I replied, well, maybe I did something”) to “This guy has information about who’s planning to blow up the Empire State Building, and you’re saying we can’t torture some names out of him?” I reaffirmed my assertion that I couldn’t do it or authorize it, either, and he was so impressed he kept coming back to me throughout the class: “And what does our resident rebel have to say about this holding?” I thought I made a mistake by opening my mouth, but he seemed really impressed by my determination. That or he felt bad for the pathetic moron in the front row, but I’ll take any bone proffered.

Now I'm sitting in a rather redundant and tedious training session for the Lexis online computer research site for my Intro to Advocacy class (I also have to attend a library tour tomorrow; both are reviews, but required...) I was hoping they'd give out a free Sports Water Bottle like they did last semester, but they only gave us Jolly Ranchers. Bah Humbug.

The Squeaky Wheel...

I walked out of my bedroom this morning and found my entire apartment redolent with the scent of flowers. What a nice way to wake up. I went over to smell them and Fuzz stopped scrambling on his wheel to blink at me with those beady eyes.

Here’s another entry in the catalog of “only in my life.” Listening to ManCow on the way to school this morning (the undisputable source for the ultimate in accurate news briefs and traditional wisdom), I learned that, based on a combination of factors (including but not limited to proximity to holidays, length of the day, weather, etc.), January 24 is the single most depressing day of the year. Not the day after Christmas, not the dead of March, this day. Apparently many a psychiatrist has expended a handsome amount of research funds to establish this. Typical. (Nothing happening in Disney History today.)

It’s about 45 and sunny, but walking down the sidewalk is like attempting to enter Dorothy’s tornado. It’s one of those vehement afternoons that will twirl hair into tight spirals and tear books from the gloved hands of unsuspecting students. Every once in a while a book will soar into the air of its own volition in a flurry of sputtering pages, instigating the panicked scurry of its previous holder down the sidewalk in a huff of frustration.

I memorized the Preamble to the Constitution today. I'm waiting with baited breath for the opportunity to present itself and enable me to spew it at some hapless victim. The time will come.

I received (happily!!) two games for my PDA for Christmas, and recently installed Scrabble and Monopoly. After playing Scrabble a handful of times (and losing spectacularly against the computer in every instance), the program locked me out and demanded that I insert the “registration code” that allegedly came packaged with the game. An inspection of the package and instructions revealed no such code, but the game manufacturer’s website stated that the number came printed on that dinky little “Register Your Product!” postcard that everyone paws over and promptly discards upon opening a product. This seemed highly ridiculous, so I ferreted out the customer service contact e-mail address and, after twice contesting their allegation that I had purchased pirated software and was attempting to use a product illegally obtained, they finally caved in and e-mailed me new activation numbers this morning. I dazzled them with my irritating perseverance and they caved. I think I’m getting better at this complain-effectively-to-get-what-you-want thing.

Back

I totally lucked out in Civil Procedure this morning by escaping the firing range (thus far). As a reward for sitting in the first two rows, we are exempt from being interrogated until he winds his way from the third row all the way to the back. Yes!!

So, being the ferret that I am, I scouted around online for recently-enacted statutes in the area and there’s a new Residential Tenants Right to Repair Act enabling tenants to make repairs from their own pocket and then legally deduct the cost of the repairs from their rent. I imagine this is the grain of salt that provided grounds for the impending inspection.

I went to the Office of the Associate Dean to check about summer school courses, and they sent me downstairs to the Registrar’s Office (classic goose-chase through the administration....) Apparently I have to gather a host of materials about the course I want to take and then apply for approval, so I will be doing that tonight. The good news is there are absolutely no required courses - I can take just about anything.

I received an e-mail today with the subject line: “Two shows of Barney live! Coming to Assembly Hall March 7!” There is obviously a deficiency of talent in the world.

Harrumph

I would like to take this moment to express extreme irritation. I arrived at my Statutory Interpretation course this morning at 7:45 (it starts at 9) to secure a prime spot of real estate in the third row on the aisle. One of the girls I know from Contracts sat behind me, and probably my favorite classmate (we sat together in Research and Writing last semester) sat beside me. Things worked out so well, of course something was bound to go wrong - the prof isn’t passing out the seating chart until tomorrow. This must sound incredibly petty and insubstantial a peril, but when you’re stuck next to the same people for three days a week, five months of the year, you want to be sure they’re agreeable ones! Argh. So now I’m going to have to repeat my abysmally early arrival tomorrow, lugging my sleep-oddled brain into a dark building yet again. Ahhh, well.

I was supposed to attend the first day of my fifth and final course, Criminal Procedure, today as well. Unfortunately, the proessor decided to attend a last-minute Philosophy course and skip town. Thus, that won’t commence until the 26th, so I have a nice glut of time this afternoon to work on my first writing assignment.

The good news is, Intro to Advocacy on Friday ends at 2:20, so I pick up 25 minutes from last semester in terms of departure time. Also, a quick survey of the syllabus revealed that the course is cancelled several times in the final weeks of the semester, thus enabling a 12pm launch. Yay.

Class One: Civil Procedure...

“Good Morning, I’m David Hyman. Welcome to Civil Procedure. I’m sorry to interrupt your winter vacation.”

This guy doesn’t clash as horribly as most of the professors last semester did.... standard cobalt blue ratcatcher, red tie with blue and tan diamonds, olive khaki pants, standard smooth mahogandy leather belt... and horribly clashing white Nike tennis shoes with navy blue piping. Maybe he has a back problem? He reminds me of a grown-up Chris Gaddour from USM – dark, middle-eastern coloring with a permanent five o’clock shadow. He’s considered one of the country’s top health law lawyers, according to the UIUC Law Website, and describes himself as “a small-state libertarian.” As such, “all government is big government to [him].”

. . . . .

Later: Constitutional Law.

I don’t know whether this is a good omen or otherwise... or indeed what to make of it at all, if anything, but my Constitutional Law professor reminds me a lot, at least in appearance, of my favorite professor from Marquette (and, arguably, the only one I really liked, but that’s neither here nor there...). He’s tall and lanky like a redwood with army-cut gray hair and a nondescript camel-colored button-down shirt with khakis. He seems big on overhead slides, which is always appreciated (particularly when profs start exciting themselves with their brilliance and take to speaking so rapidly their words run into one another). His method of speaking is quite distinctive – he enunciates very sharply and speaks with great mouth gestures, as though he’s eating the air, but it’s not annoying; rather, it’s nice to have a very loud baritone keeping us awake and able to hear effectively. I have warmed up to him immediately, not only for his echo of my previous professor, but because he declared about ten minutes into class that “this course is virtually paperless” – he posts everything online. Additionally, he says he checks his voice mail about once a month, but checks his e-mail three to four times an hour. My kind of guy.

The final class this evening, Intro to Advocacy, boasts my only repeat professor from last semester, my writing ringleader Professor Grant, so that shouldn’t be noteworthy.

The Bell Rings and the Gates Spring Open!

Well, I scuttled into school this morning, dodging raindrops, at 7:48. Two janitors in the commons area, still unfolding tables and flipping on lights, eyed me as they would a trespasser. I was indeed the first person in the room, thus delegated the task of flipping on the lights and securing the first crack at seat selection. So I’m in the second row on the right aisle, the same seat I occupied in Property last semester (I’m hoping to reabsorb some of that karma). And here we go! Semester two of six, out of the gate. Today it's Civil Procedure in the morning, then Consitutional Law and Intro to Advocacy this afternoon. Here's hoping.