Concert Review, Straight Outta Texas

Of his erstwhile best friend and songwriting soulmate, Glenn Frey once commented: “No one can suck the fun out of a room faster than Don Henley.” Regardless of the relative merits one affords Frey (with tunes like “Sexy Girl” speckling his resume), the appurtenant Texan provided considerable fodder for the statement at his solo Chicago performance at the Rosemont Theatre November 9, 2009.

Clad in the unfortunate black-and-white button-up garb that has comprised the Eagles’ performance uniform since Long Road out of Eden, he offered little by way of improvisation but a great deal along the lines of doom, gloom and impending implosion. Mercifully, in significant contrast to his Eagles appearances, Henley seemed genuinely enthused to appear onstage forty years after turning LA on its side with the immortal road theme “Take it Easy,” thus enabling the suggestion of catastrophe to go down easy.

One wonders whether he, in frankness if ensured confidentiality, would concede the general substandardicity of LROE and his third solo album Inside Job. To the delight of this fan he touched neither, instead dotting his lineup with his well-worn and much-deservedly-heralded hits in addition to a few classic Eagles nuggets and three covers.

Henley blatantly mocked my reverence for piano-driven weepers in general and “The End of the Innocence” in particular by stretching the entire first verse into acapella double-time. Were it not an absolute classic; were its elegiac undertones not entirely dependent upon the haunting Hornsby piano sequence; were Henley actually a fabulous singer along the lines of Elton John; then, then, this introduction might have unfurled within the realm of the appropriate. Yet, my little ’80s-revering heart coiled itself into a pout when he finally acquiesced to the song’s normal beat and unleashed not the beloved piano chords that ceaselessly prick heartstrings I frankly had always presumed an urban legend (despite a man sitting at the stool of a piano, staring into space) but some cheesy keyboard-produced synth undertone that, in some third party idiot, might somehow slightly resemble the keynote melody.

As for the man himself? My father promoted several Eagles concerts during the infamous, hedonistic Long Run tour, and multiple subsequent Henley dates following each of his first three albums. I have heard tales of the man that would, I image, earn a nod of solidarity from Marquis de Sade. He has aged considerably since his eighties heyday and finally started to fill out. His voice, which I always found lacking compared to Frey’s, has literally grayed, cackling a bit around the edges. And the guy still captivates me. Perhaps his tidy, firecracker method of speaking that evinces a much quicker mind than basically any other rock star still alive? Perhaps the self-deprecating sense of humor, albeit rehearsed, that emerges in his between-song stories? Perhaps the sense of unrequited, restless longing that forms the foundation of every composition? The answer shall elude me indefinitely, I suspect.

Set List:

1- “I Put a Spell On You”

2- ”One of These Nights”
(BE STILL MY HEART. My favorite Eagles song, which nevermakes it on their set list. I CAN DIE NOW.)

3- ”September Song”

4- ”New York Minute”

5- ”The Last Worthless Evening”

6- ”It Don't Matter to the Sun”

7- ”The End of the Innocence”

8- ”Everybody Wants to Rule the World”

9- ”The Heart of the Matter”

10- ”Dirty Laundry”

11- ”The Boys of Summer”
Live: basically a religious experience. Everything fades to sepia. Peoples' hair starts billowing in a fictional wind. The air seems to glisten like the ocean depicted in the music video. Ahhhh. Wish I could crawl inside that experience and have a nap.

12- ”All She Wants To Do Is Dance”

13- ”Life in the Fast Lane”

14- ”Hotel California”

15- ”Desperado”

Encore
1- ”I Will Not Go Quietly”

2- ”Please Come Home For Christmas”


Quoteworthy:
As my father and I approached the bar at the Rosemont, I noted that all the other patrons exceeded my own age by at least three decades. Dad’s retort: “Well, they’ll all think I have a young girlfriend. Smile!” Hee.

Last Chance for a Thousand Years

Graduation today.

I am officially an (almost) attorney.

Over and out.

Impossible Requests and Other Red Herrings

“You must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest. With... a herring!”
- Monty Python and the Holy Grail

When Ali and I were at EPCOT, I bought the official Disney World Resort album. It has all the ride music from all the greats - Splash Mountain, Space Mountain, the Haunted Manison, the Tower of Terror, France, Oh Canada, and my brand-new favorite ride, Soarin’. Some contend that the worst part about exams is the hour or so before you take the thing. I disagree - the worse time is 2am the night before when you wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night wondering if you adequately parsed through the language of 15 USC § 1052 so that in twelve hours or so you would be able to adequately regurgitate the general principles qualifying a potential trademark for registration in your Trademarks and Unfair Competition course. In some ways I am most nervous about this exam because, although it was my favorite course, it was also taught by my favorite professor at the law school, so I don’t want to turn in an essay that makes me look like a moron. I’ll never forget the first time I was in his class (Property, first semester as a 1L - forever and a half ago) and he referenced a “John Cleese-like character” prowling about in the bushes. And then, later in the semester, he quoted from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, when the prince’s father motions out the window and says, “Son, soon this will all be yours!” and the son replies, “What, the curtains?” He’s the greatest. Watch him fail me and prevent me from graduating after I’ve spent all this time singing his praises.

It’s an hour to the Trademarks exam. I’m listening to the soundtrack from Soarin’ on a repeat loop to keep myself calm. I got to the exam room two hours early to get my favorite chair, only to have them relocate us to a different room because some wuss complained the Auditorium (my favorite place to take exams) was “too cold.” Boo-hoo. Now someone beat me in the foot-race to the new room and I lost my favorite spot. I hope this is not indicative of things to come.

Vertical & Breathing

“And that, my liege, is how we know the earth to be banana-shaped.”
- Monty Python and the Holy Grail

I was sitting in a classroom all alone when this milquetoast Korean girl tapped on the door and asked if she could join me. She commented that “There’s people everywhere!” I don’t understand this penchant for studying at night. I’m up at the crack of dawn, and the time I study best is 7am (perhaps why high school suited me). I start to lose it around 8 and am ready for bed by 9. By Sex and the City’s standards, that makes me a senior citizen.

Out in the hallway a couple is having an argument. Ahh, the bliss of dating. Is now really the time, guys? While the rest of us normal people are attempting to enlighten ourselves to a level sufficient to secure passage out of the law school and into the next stage of our existence? Couldn’t you take this outside?

I’ve decided I despise complex litigation. Can’t we all just get along? Everybody just follow the bloody rules and we won’t have to deal with all this.

I am sooooo tired...

Eight Belles

Carrie: So you’re a pessimist, right?
Miranda: Have we met?
- Sex and the City

Arrrrrrrgh. Down to three days, now. I’m so nervous, it’s like there’s something pawing around inside my stomach. I want to throw up. Or go home and lay down. I’m losing my focus... help! Ahhhh! Must focus! Need to focus! Think, girl, think!

I sure hope I pass everything.

That poor filly, Eight Belles... she ran so brilliantly in the Derby, only to collapse after the wire? Seems awfully suspicious. I think there’s something to the story we’re not privy to, like a recurring injury or an inherent flaw or some sort of preexisting defect. It’s like the was injured from the start, or even before the race, but ran anyway because that’s what she’s trained to do and it’s in her blood, but as soon as the jockey started pulling her up after the wire, she just gave out because the adrenaline was no longer urging her along. Hope the same thing doesn’t happen to me. What a race, though. Wonder if Big Brown really has what it takes to go the Triple Crown? He certainly seemed fresh enough after the race, bucking his jockey off (nice touch, that). I thought the horse’s name was a reference to Man o’ War’s nickname Big Red, but it turns out they named the horse after Fed Ex. How ridiculous. Has everything become commercialized, now?

Out Looking for a Shrub

“Look, if I argue with you, I must take up a contrary position.”
“Yes, but it isn’t just saying, ‘no, it isn’t.’”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it isn’t!”
- Monty Python, the Argument Clinic sketch

. . . 4 days . . .

I am SO sick of studying, I could spontaneously combust.

Saw Spamalot again on Friday.... I could watch that thing every night for the rest of my life and never stop laughing. My absolute favorite part is when King Arthur asks the Lady of the Lake her real name and she says “Guenivere,” then one of the knights goes, “Holy shit!” and they all walk offstage. I also loved when the King said “No, it’s a symbol,” and someone in the orchestra crashed the cymbal. Oh, and the Lady of the Lake singing “Diva’s Lament (Whatever Happened to my Part?)” : “I’m with a bunch of English knights prancing ‘round in wooly tights; I might as well go to the pub, they’re out looking for a shrub....” Oh, forget it, I adored the entire thing.

But... four more days of school! Graduation on Saturday! Rah rah rah! I’ll be - oh, wait, I won’t be a lawyer. I’ll be a moron qualified to begin studying for the bar exam. Sigh. One step closer, anyhow.

“Out of nine lives, I’ve spent seven. How in the world do you get to Heaven? Oh, you don’t know the shape I’m in....” I love the Band. Have I mentioned that recently? Definitely have to fall asleep watching The Last Waltz tonight, even if JRR is a conceited butthead who hogs all the camera time.

Exam Day #2

“Oh, sorry; I see we’ve entered the no-humor zone.”
- Lorelai, Gilmore Girls

So how’s this for statistics? I can’t believe it. Approximately 5% of all people who graduate from high school go on to achieve a master’s degree... and 2, count ‘em, 2% go on to get a doctorate. I can’t believe it. Two percent. I might amount to something yet!

...of course, that’s presuming I pass everything. Last night we had a monster storm so I should have slept very well, but we kept having these patches of hail that would slam against the window and jolt me to attention. Then I’d hear a police car siren, and be thankful that Jordan was tucked safely inside a garage instead of out there being subjected to the elements. So my anticipated slumber did not proceed quite as well as I had hoped. I am sooooo tired.

As a bit of a distraction I did an online quiz about the US and it turns out I’m not the absolute moron I had anticipated - I only got two wrong (of course, I suppose the inhabitants of said states would contest that my incorrect answers amounted to unforgivable ignorance, but whatever). Turns out the state bird of WI is, of course, the robin, and IL is the Cardinal (along with six other states; how original). Our state flower is the wood violet, IL’s is the violet; our animal the badger, IL’s the white-tailed deer (which I think would fit us much better, as I have yet to see one in this state, but that’s me). Our state tree is the sugar maple (how pretty!), IL’s the white oak (verrrry appropriate, as they surround the law school and deposit acorns mercilessly on my innocent vehicle in the fall). Our state insect is the honeybee (just ask my arm), IL’s the monarch butterfly (how cool! good choice; bravo). And in conclusion, may I pose the inquiry: why is Kentucky’s state animal the gray squirrel? What idiot decided that?!

In other local news... Derby Day on Saturday! Go Eight Bells! Let’s have a filly win! There’s only ever been three: Regret in 1915, Genuine Risk in 1980 and Winning Colors in 1988. But let’s not forget that Winning Colors was a big gray, too! Unfortunately, the three prior winners had all proven themselves against colts prior to the Derby, and Eight Bells hasn’t... plus, she is in post five, which is not ideal... oh, well. I have Winning Colors’ run on my youtube favorites - she shot straight to the lead under Gary Stevens, and held it wire to wire. She was the horse who began D. Wayne Lucas’ winning streak. Sigh.

Hmmm...

“I could hear my soul dying.”
-Logan from Gilmore Girls, after a business meeting

I woke up almost perfectly at 3am (insert the mb20 song tinkling in the background here). Unwilling or unable to subject myself to the ritualistic torture that is lying in bed silent, staring at the ceiling, I wandered out to my balcony to stare at the other apartment buildings and wonder about their inhabitants. Surprisingly, I encountered several illuminated windows. I wonder how many of them are law students?

This is going to sound really strange, and I don’t know where it came from all of a sudden, but I feel really badly about the Jude guys. I wish I knew how they were doing, or where they were, or something. All three are planning to appeal, and at least two are acquiring new representation for the new trial... maybe I’ll go to them, when they come ‘round. Or maybe it’s best to make a clean break; I can’t decide. I didn’t go to the sentencing because I assumed I wouldn’t be able to deal with it psychologically, and considering the news press I read about the judge’s rulings and the events that ensued, I think I made an accurate presumption. I wonder how the one who got off is doing; I don’t know why you’d want your job back after that debacle, but I suppose it’s like that character at the beginning of Hannibal - you go around the world, see the sights and prospects, and return to the same crap you know. The entire proceedings reminded me of the three-ring circus in Chicago - a lot of pomp, circumstance and bollocks. I did not believe anyone’s assertions and did not consider the levy of punishments proportionate to the supposed crimes. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to forget them. I’m told this happens to every attorney, though. Supposedly it’s normal, and you never forget the defendants in your first major federal court case, even if you did not really know them and they scarcely knew you existed.

Oy Already

“Oy with the poodles already!”
- Loreliai, Gilmore Girls

It’s strange to be at school on Reading Day, or any day after classes cease yet before exams begin. It’s like a ghost town - me and the 1Ls. The 2Ls don’t roll out of bed and appear until about noon (I discovered that last year). I have yet to determine what happens to the 3Ls - I haven’t even seen the ones who live in my apartment complex. Either they stay in their rooms to study, or just aren’t studying because they’re emotionally done, or what...

The Kentucky Derby is Satuday: bum-BUM-bum but-dadda-dum, but-dadda-dum, dum-dum-DUM-dummmm....

I have my first exam tomorrow morning at 8:30. I prefer the morning ones because (1) there’s no pacing/anticipation/anxious hours to pass, and (2) I don’t have to arrive insanely early to procure a decent seat, as people are willing to roll out of bed and be there by noon, but not before 8am. I suppose I’ll be there at 7:30 anyway, just in case. Because I’m odd.

I am so tired my head is pounding. I didn’t sleep last night so I only had two diet Mountain Dews this morning and my system is complaining vociferously.

When I arrived this morning, a batch of students had already settled into my study room, so I had to select another. But the key here is “batch” of students... there were a pack of them studying together. That’s got to be a million times easier than going it alone. I wish I had that luxury. I sure hope I do well. I’m terrified. Can you tell?

Arrrrgh

Phil: What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?
Ralph: That about sums it up for me.
- Groundhog Day

I. Am. Sick. Of. School.

I am sick of calculating the internal rate of return a potential property investment could produce. I am sick of getting up in the middle of the night wondering if I should be running flashcards as opposed to sleeping. I am sick of thumbing through the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure to decipher § 122(b)(2)(3)(a)(iv) and determine how it can be interpreted in light of the generally-accepted canons of statutory interpretation and through the lens of related but separate § 106(b)(4)(iii). I am even (gasp! shudder!) sick of outlining for my trademarks class, which is one of my three favorites as a portion of the triad comprising IP. I want to go home and forget about classes and just veg out on the couch and pretend law school does not exist and that I do not have exams on Thursday and Friday.

Idle Discourse

“Let us not waste time in idle discourse.”
- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

I am so tired my ability to form and emit coherency of any sort has expired. At this point in the semester I just have to start allowing my mouth and fingers to operate on cruise control and trust that they won’t betray me. I can’t remember what happened this morning before I arrived at class. I think I sat at home and studied, which obviously did a lot of good, seeing as I cannot even recall the happenings.

Oh, I hope I pass. I just need to pass everything so I can graduate and get out of here. Pleeeeeeease.

This is also about the time in the semester that, every time I see an animal, I think, “wouldn’t it be wonderful to be a horse. Beautiful and able to fly without wings with no exams, no worries, no bills, no troubles...

3rd Secretary-General of the UN

Guy Patterson: If Jimmy’s a genius, I’m U Thant.
The Bass Player: Who’s U Thant?
Guy Patterson: He’s the Sec- forget it.
- That Thing You Do

Thirteen more days of school. People keep telling me to “hang in there,” because it’s “almost over.” Picture Mufasa in The Lion King, dangling off the side of the cliff with just his claws scrambling for traction while Scar pushes his toes loose one by one. Anyway, it’s not almost over, is it? We get one stern gasp of breath, and then dive right in for the bar exam. Sigh.

That Thing You Do was on last night. I’ve seen it 1,346,925 times and yet I watch it every time it’s on. What a fantastic film.

Help!

“I’m sick of chasing my dreams. I’m just going to ask them where they’re going and hook up with them later.”
- Mitch Hedburg

For a lot of people, today is the last day of law school. They don’t plan on attending our scheduled classes on Monday, and long ago planned their schedule to have Fridays off. I am terrified of exams. Panic has finally set in. What if I fail? What then? I feel like I’m falling apart. Am I like this at the end of every semester? I can’t remember. I guess I’m experiencing tunnel vision. Maybe I’m like this every year or semester or whatever. I’m losing my mind - no, it’s gone, long gone, done me wrong, like Alison Krauss and Robert Plant would say. I’m so screwed. Less than three weeks left. I’m doomed. I’m going to fail everything and have to retake an entire semester and Ahhhhhhhh! I’m panicked! Help!!

The Kid v. The System

“So the American government lied to the Native Americans for many, many years, and then President Clinton lied about a relationship, and everyone was surprised! A little naïve, I feel.”
- Eddie Izzard

So today one of my profs decided to extend class beyond the scheduled end period. Knowing I had a limited amount of time in the meter, I rushed out to find a ticket on my windshield. The parking meter vulture lady was two cars ahead. I hadn’t slept all week, had just endured a horrible class, and had zero patience whatsoever for this nonsense. I don’t know what came over me; it was like an out-of-body experience. I approached her window as she was issuing some other hapless victim a citation.

This is my best recollection of my outburst. Bear in mind I never raised my voice or technically “lost my temper,” I just started hemorrhaging from the mouth: “Excuse me, do you have a moment?” She looked up in surprise and did not reply. “I think it bears noting that if you consider the statistical distribution of parking tickets, a disproportionate amount are given to law students. I don’t know if that is because you dislike us, or you think we’re greedy ambulance chasers, or you are simply bitter about having to shovel our walk before everyone else’s, but I don’t think it’s fair for you to circle the law school like a vulture just waiting for a meter to change when the university already charges enough tuition each semester to feed and clothe all the children in four southeast Asian countries.” (By the way, I have no idea if this is accurate; just accept the hyperbole.) “And it bears noting that I put enough change in the meter to give myself fifteen minutes to pack up my books and walk out to my car after class. If I’d had any inkling that my professor would feel the need to subject us to a lengthy diatribe about the current state of the union after the scheduled end time of our class, I would have gladly put an extra quarter in the meter. But I don’t think I should be punished for failing to foresee my professor’s penchant for excessive banter.” At this point I realized I was rambling at a poor woman who was essentially gaping at me, quite clearly thinking, This kid’s going to climb in the truck and throttle me. Is she insane?

And yes, I’ve found that when I’m extremely irritated, I deploy an inordinately lengthy and convoluted vernacular.

A long pause ensued, and eventually she adopted a sheepish expression. Then she said, “I didn’t know about your situation. I’ll call in and cancel the ticket from the system.”

That really rankled me, and at this point I started proverbially spitting: “Oh, sure, like I’m supposed to believe that! In two weeks I’ll get a letter in the mail saying that, not only do I have to pay the ticket, but I also owe interest and a late fee! Sorry for disturbing you. I’ll let you get back to playing Sheriff of Nottingham.” (Which was the guy in Robin Hood who levied unpayable taxes on the rabbits living in the forest)

So I paid the ticket and put it in the little collection box.

When I came out a few hours later, the ticket was on my windshield with a note - “This citation was cancelled by the issuing officer. There is no amount due. Thank you, and have a nice day.”

One point for the п in the case of The Kid v. The System. One small win for a kid, one giant win for kidkind.

Some Remain So

“We are all born mad. Some remain so.”
- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

. . . 22 days . . .

What a time to get sick. I woke up this morning feeling like someone had stuck a helium pump in each ear and started the flow. Of course, that would make me lighter than normal, so I guess that’s an inaccurate comparison.

Last night we had an earthquake at 4:35 am that registered 5.45 on the Richter scale, located 20 miles southwest of Vicennes, Indiana and 125 miles southwest of Indianapolis. It was felt, apparently, as north as the Upper Penninsula of Michigan, as far south as Georgia, as far west as Kansas, with structural damage in West Salem, Illinois and Louisville, Kentucky (hope all the horses were all right!) Strange, huh? So now I’ve been in two earthquakes - a small one in Milwaukee that nobody noticed, and a rather sizeable one here in Champaign that everyone is buzzing about.

A Great Deadener

“Habit is a great deadener.”
- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

. . . 33 days . . .

Last night I managed to get the exercise bike out of my car and onto the ground with little trouble. I also managed to get it up the stairs, although I never realized how many I had (19) and by the tenth I understood for perhaps the inaugural time why some weightlifters make horrid noises at the gym. I thought my fingers were going to jump ship, but I got it into the apartment! It’s positioned right in the middle of my living room.

My absolute favorite time of the year in Champaign is the spring, when all the cherry blossom trees burst into life. They’re my favorite trees, because they look like the personification of an exuberant grin. So it was with a flicker of delight that I descended the afore-referenced stairs this morning and glanced over at the long- bare trees near our garbage container and clearly discerned a maroon tinge on the branches.

Since the demise of my beloved Gilmore Girls I have been seeking a replacement and coming up empty. I kind of like the British show Doctor Who, but it has become too plot-centered in the recent season rather than character-centered and comedic. Thus, I was delighted to find a new show called Torchwood, a spin-off show that centers on my favorite character from Doctor Who. Things were progressing swimmingly and it seemed quite promising until the kissing... no thanks. Back to square one. Why does all television stink? The only things I enjoy right now are Disney specials on the Travel Channel.

The Koreans are home, but I haven’t heard piano playing lately. What gives? I see a light on in the hallway beyond the piano room, but not the room itself.

So Low Before . . .

“But the clouds never hung so low before.”
- The Band, “It Makes No Difference”

. . . 37 Days . . .

I don’t know what to do. How many times have I said that in these posts? I just don’t know what to do. I’m incapacitated by a cocktail of fatigue, depression and shame. But what to do? I’m scarcely capable of making a phone call. I have to sit in my car and talk myself into the law school every day. How did I get here from August, 2005? What happened? Where did I go wrong?

I don’t know why this came to mind, but last year one time I was jogging merrily on the treadmill, on my way to seven miles, while watching The Last Waltz. An older guy came up and got on the treadmill next to me to start walking. He flicked through the channels and then glanced over at my television, obviously seeking an entertaining channel to duplicate. It was hilarious: he looked at the screen, looked at me, looked at the screen, looked at me again, and then watched the screen for the entire time I was on the treadmill. His thoughts couldn not have been any plainer: “You’re how old?” But that was back when I was a reasonable size and possessed of the ability to run and do whatever I wanted. Sigh.

In the Cold, Cold Sun

“Try looking through a haze at an empty house in the cold, cold sun.”
- The Band, “Whispering Pines”

. . . 38 Days . . .

My patience, which was never particularly extensive to begin with, has officially expired. I was sitting in my Complex Litigation classroom this morning listening to the proliferation of 2Ls and smattering of 3Ls banter and almost everything I overheard was either annoying, imprudent or utterly unnecessary. Just when I think I despise men and wish to confine my friendships to this half of the species, one will walk in before class and make a whole to-do about another’s hairdo. So what if she got highlights? Who cares if they were performed using tinfoil or large something-or-others? (Can you tell I’m completely lost in this arena? I’m worse than a guy.) I guess what irks me most of all is the absolute pretentiousness that exudes from my classmates’ voices. It’s the primary reason I elect to remain silent in most of my courses. I couldn’t bear sounding like a self-righteous know-it-all; but then, I sound like one now, don’t I? I guess I’ll just shut up.

°o° I wish Dad, Ali and I were standing at EPCOT watching IllumiNations, or on Main Street watching Wishes.

David Beckham was on Jay Leno last night, and I wanted so much to despise the guy since the world so reveres him, but he seemed a very decent fellow. How disappointing.

°o° Or that Ali and I were sitting on the Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor, giggling our heads off.

I sit in the back and I’m keeping an eye on the other 3Ls in the class, which is slightly elevating my spirits. One, who is also in my Witness course, is playing some sort of virtual basketball game. Another is surfing EBay for purses (how many does one need? Sorry; the guy in me again.) Several are on MySpace, doing something or other.

I guess what grates me the most is the commentary and endless dissection of current events and hypothetical situations. As a 1L it was intriguing and challenging and invigorating. As a 2L, it was old hat, necessary for the furtherance of class discussion and to procure a decent grade. Now it’s just tedious speculation that seems an immense waste of time. People’s houses are being bulldozed in China so the government can prepare for the Olympics, massive genocide is occurring in Darfur, and here were are nitpicking at some stupid hypothetical posed by our professor which (let’s face facts here) will never likely come to pass because the fictionalized facts are so extravagant and far-fetched as to defy practicality and possibility.

The Other Boleyn Girl was horrible, although the horses and costumes were gorgeous. 21 sucked, basically due to deficient dialogue and excessive sexuality (the type of movie was not relevant in my criticism, because I loved the Ocean’s movies). I rented Wristcutters to watch tonight - hopefully that will provide some distraction.

What a knob - I left my cell phone at home. Who does that in this day and age? (At least, I pray I left it at home!!) I always pat my jacket pocket on the way out to make sure I have it, but I had my iPod in my pocket this morning and made a rather egregious mistake in perception.

I love Monsters, Inc. What a great movie.

"I Don't Paint Anymore"

“And the dawn don’t rescue me no more.” - The Band, “It Makes No Difference”

. . . 44 days . . .

Well, another day down. I woke up this morning (and I wrote down this song . . . no, just kidding). I woke up and wanted to roll over and hide. At least tonight Lost is on, so I’ll have something to watch while I’m packing. I managed to find a public notary yesterday, so I’m all set to send in all my bar stuff. I am really tired. And hungry. And fat. And miserable. Etc, etc, blah blah blah; “Shut up and stop complaining,” I can hear it now.

My blog is kind of running dry and I do not have an adequate explanation regarding why except for the obvious: it’s an extension of my general lack of inspiration and fruitfulness. As Ali says in The Notebook, “I don’t paint anymore.” “So paint,” her clueless fiancée replies stupidly. “I will,” she says, but to enact the change, something in her life has to fundamentally change first. She basically rerouted her entire existence. I bring it up only because that’s the movie I fell asleep to last night. I think tonight I’ll try Monsters, Inc. I wish I could go back in time to the beginning of the semester and kick myself into gear so I was thin and normal by the time spring break rolled around, so I could have been all enthusiastic about Florida and supremely enjoyed my time there. Then I could have been totally rejuvenated when I returned to school on Monday instead of being a giant blob with no hope and a surplus of frustration. I also have an explosion of pimples across my nose and cheeks, the only explanation for which is an excess of popsicles or gum (whatever the sugarfree component is causes whiteheads to proliferate with exuberance.) Wow, do I despise myself. And I just don’t know what to do. I’m too exhausted to do anything, but maybe that’s just depression. I almost miss my panic attacks, because at least then I was always running, always propelled, always inspired to do something, anything, whatever was expected of me. Now it’s all I can do to wash my laundry at night, although I gather not many people like doing laundry, so maybe I’m not alone in my abhorrence.

The Shadow Holds Sway . . .

“Night or day, the shadow never seems to fade away
And the sun don’t shine anymore, and the rains fall down on my door.”
- The Band, “It Makes No Difference”

. . . 45 days . . .

I don’t know what my problem is today. I got seven hours of sleep, so I should be fine, but I feel hung over (I think... I’ve never actually been hung over, but my current state seems quite similar to how I’ve heard one described). Lethargic, dizzy, thumping pulse, throbbing head, dizzy, fatigued, faint, did I mention dizzy?

It’s almost time for my Witness course to end and I’m going to try and walk this evening, although I would rather do just about anything else. Almost - not organic chemistry homework or babysitting. Huh - now that I think about it, maybe I’m hungry? I haven’t eaten since some zucchini this morning (don’t knock it - it’s my favorite food, followed closely by steamed broccoli and red delicious apples). How did I used to get through the day on naught except a few shots of espresso? Oh, yeah - the dreaded eating habit. sigh. Back to square one. I read online that an eating disorder is harder to kick than a smoking or drinking habit and I’m beginning to believe it. I wish . . . I dunno. I’m not even sure what would make me happy at this point. I can’t think of anything. I guess my myopic interpretation of my current situation is just the product of fatigue and depression, but it’s pathetic nevertheless.

Things Are Going Swimmingly

“Ashes of laughter, the ghost is clear;
Why do the best things always disappear?”
- The Band, “Ophelia”

. . . 46 days . . .

Adding insult to injury regarding my PR course, I just found out the exam is on a Saturday. The nerve! So I have one the evening of the 2nd (Real Estate- on a Friday, natch), one the morning of the 3rd (PR), one the evening of the 7th (™) and one the morning of the 8th (Complex Litigation). I feel like I’m dying today. I got up this morning to walk and kind of stumbled about for fifty minutes before giving up ten minutes before scheduled. Sigh. This sounds stupid but I wish Gilmore Girls were still on, so I had something to look forward to. Alternately, I hope I can pull myself together so I don’t have to hang myself. The prospect is becoming more and more imminent. I managed to fall asleep last night at 10:30, then woke up when Mom called about 11:15 and couldn’t go back to sleep until 2, then got up at 7.

Later... I am so tired. My head is pounding. I look at a page in my Real Estate book and the words begin to swirl and swim to the point that I have to read and re-read every portion I attempt to ingest. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through exams. I stand up and this strange feeling starts flowing through me, which I can only verbalize as a “whooshing” feeling, as though all my blood has rushed to pool in my feet and leave the rest of me to fumble about like a wobbly plastic mannequin. Is any of this making sense? Are my sentences even coherent? My thoughts keep escaping me.

Seven Weeks

“If you find me in a gloom or catch me in a dream,
inside my lonely room there is no in between.”
- “Whispering Pines,” The Band
...47 days...

I am so bummed. I opened the door to my wonderful, expensive apartment last night and this giant, dark cloud descended, like the one that hovers over Eeyore but much more permeable and persistent. There’s absolutely no reason for it. I have a job and a future and (providing I don’t fail out this semester) an education that could get me somewhere if I make it past thirty. Ugh. I really, really, really don’t want to deal with the next seven weeks. It’s so short a time and all the problems are in my mind, which makes the inescapable and almost impossible to contend with. And I’m dreading graduation rather than looking forward to it because I look so horrid. I wish I could go back to last year at this time and redo all my mistakes. I should have spent the summer in a job I liked, working for my parents, rather than one I loathed that still plagues me. And I shouldn’t have let myself fall apart to this extent. Stupid idiot. Well, off to another day. I wish I were sitting in the lobby of the Grand Floridian.

The Shape I'm In

“This living alone will drive me crazy. . . Oh, you don’t know the shape I’m in.”
- Robbie Robertson / The Band

I’m in my dreaded PR course and concurrently dreading the MPRE tomorrow. I’m also not looking forward to my four-hour drive home tonight, my weekend of requisite starvation, or any other facet of my existence save graduation (if I don’t fail out). I guess such is the impact of clinical depression combined with sleep deprivation. Talk about a dangerous Molotov cocktail to the psyche. I just want to find a corner somewhere, lie down and sleep underground (an extension of the ostrich inclination). I woke up this morning at 5 and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went into the kitchen and assembled another box of styrofoam peanuts that resolutely clutch my arms and fingers. I now have all my dishes packed . . . as I was assiduously bubble-wrapping my precious Alice in Wonderland-themed plates, I realized that in the past two and a half years, I had not used them once. Not even when Dad came to visit - we must have gone out to eat - or when Ali came to visit - she had a dinner packed that she brought with her. Strange. They’re so beautiful, though, so I guess preservation is an accomplishment. It’s kind of sad to see everything get packed away, but not really. I’m just realizing how much crap I have accumulated over the years - I’ll take anything, as the joke goes, so now I have to figure out what to do with it all. Sigh.

I can’t believe there’s one week until Spring Break, and I haven’t progressed any from my psychological low point. How stupid. This MPRE has been absorbing all my efforts that I should have been funneling into myself and pulling myself together. What a moron. Well, at least tomorrow it’s over and I’ll be “free” to focus on my demons. . . at least momentarily, before the exam crunch.

We have two marred guest speakers today, and they are two of the most boring individuals I’ve ever met. I pray to God I never turn out like that. I can’t even fathom such an existence.

Florida:
Want to see: the renovated Haunted Mansion, the renovated Spaceship Earth, the Flower Festival-decorated EPCOT
Want to do: get Dad on Soarin’ and Ali on the Rockin’ Roller Coaster if she’s so inclined (my beloved Tower of Terror might still be too much)
Want to get: a Ratatouille pin, a new Mickey watch and, most of all, a new attitude and a replenished motivation to pull myself together.

Any Day Now . . .

“I see my light come shining from the west unto the east. Any day now, any day now, I shall be released.”
- Bob Dylan, as immortalized by The Band

. . . 66 Days . . .

There’s a guy online who just graduated from Columbia law school and, just as I titled my blog the “Cell Block Tango,” he calls his “Three Years of Hell to Become the Devil: Life at Columbia.” I think mine slightly more symbolic and less acerbic, but who am I to say?

I was feeling really down yesterday so I pulled out my two old standbys: Monty Python and The Last Waltz. I watched one of my favorite Python discs... “The clarity is devastating. But where is the ambiguity? It’s over there, in a box.” I love the Pythons. Absolute geniuses (Cleese - law, Chapman - medicine and Idle - English from Cambridge; Palin - history and Jones - English from Oxford, and the token American Gilliam - political science from Occidental College, with Chapman becoming a certified but ultimately non-practicing doctor) and certifiable geniuses in their own right. They are so brilliant, all of them; even Gilliam. Although I have never particularly cared for his cartoons, he proved his abilities on several occasions, appearing in several sketches with brilliance (“The Spanish Inquisition” and as Che Gueverra in “World Forum,” in particular). But I digress.

I’ve been not sleeping all week and feeling horrid but I researched last night what happens if I fail the MPRE this weekend and it turns out you can take it as many times as you want. I’ve read online about people who have failed the thing five or six times (considering it costs $60 rather than the Bar’s $950) and seem utterly blasé about the whole thing. Not that I should follow their example, but it’s just nice to know it’s not the be-all and end-all. Maybe I should have even waited until August to take it in the first place. Hmm. I just need to calm the hell down... since I’m so adept at that.

What Lies Behind

Remy: You are an illustration; why am I talking to you?
Gusteau: Oh, you just lost your family - all your friends - you are lonely.
Remy: Yeah, well, you're dead!
Gusteau: Ahh, but that is no match for wishful thinking! If you're focused on what you've left behind, you will not be able to see what lies ahed. Now go up and look around!
- Ratatouille

I feel like a total idiot (nothing new there...) I left the power cord for my laptop at home and because this piece of plastic only lasts an hour that means I have to drive home to get it like the total airhead that I am. For some reason the thought of entering my apartment fills me with dread. Perhaps that’s why I don’t sleep at night? It’s just so cold and dark and dreary. I don’t even know how to liven it up or fix the problem; it just is, and cannot be rectified at this point in time.

I made the mistake of succumbing to the endless assault on my inbox from the Class of 2008 Student Gift Campaign Committee and donated a little to the gift fund because no one from section A was doing so (seriously - we were at 2% participation; now we’re at 4), whereas the Transfer Students were at something ridiculous like 70% and even the other sections were blowing is out of the water. We looked like totally anti-school chumps. Then, talking with someone from my section, I come to find that our section had launched a protest on the gift campaign because we’re the only ones who were taught (“subjected to” were his words, actually) by the now disgraced Dean Hurd, and this is our way of showing our disapproval/disappointment. I was not apprised of this fact. Apparently I’m the only one who liked her. What gives? What was so horrid about her? I mean, her class wasn’t easy, but she was very nice and I always looked forward to her. She was ridiculously engaging when I saw her during office hours. I still like her, although I seem to be the lone holdout.

Listening to my classmates pratter on about they’re going to do after graduation and their current exploits and undertakings in mock trials and trial advocacy programs makes me feel horribly out of place. I don’t belong in law school. I’m not sure what I’m doing here. I’m not social or successful and I certainly have no future in the legal field. I feel like a complete... well, like a monkey pretending to be a human. On top of that, my knee is doing a remarkable job of impeding my attempts at acquiring a life. I complain not to harp upon the issue but to provide a low threshold at which I may sneer if/when I finally pull myself together at the end of the year. Yet again I didn’t sleep last night, so my head is pounding, my vision swimming, and I long fervently to just remain in a horizontal position. Seventy-three days ‘till graduation. Not a moment too soon.

Nothing, Really

“That’s the trouble with the world. Too many people grow up.”
- Walt Disney

The Oscars blew. Johnny Depp didn’t win for Best Actor (will someone give that man an award, already? What, are we gonna wait until he’s dead to acknowledge his talent?), Saoirse Ronan didn’t win Best Supporting Actress (she was brilliant for a twelve-year-old!), Cate Blanchett didn’t win anything (I don’t know whether she deserved to, because I didn’t see either movie she starred in, but I just like her on principle), and Atonement didn’t win Best Picture. Booo. At least Ratatouille won Best Animated Feature, but did you see what it was up against? What was that first piece of crap, subtitled from French? It looked like a two-year-old scribbled it. The highlight of the evening was Steve Carrell presenting Best Animated Feature - he started waxing poetic about documentaries, was gently reminded by copresentor Anne Hathaway of the pertinent category, and then gaped at the ground and muttered an expletive that I was surprised the censors didn’t pounce upon. Hilarious. Otherwise, a grand bore all around. Did anyone see any of the crap movies that were up for the big ones? I sure didn’t. And what was with all the foreigners? This was an American awards ceremony, no? But I am going to borrow a line from a clip of George Clooney that I saw: “Do I look like I’m negotiating?” Nice. If I were famous I would have worn a Ratatouille pin from the parks and then made a show of claiming impartiality. I’m immensely glad that I’m not, but it’s cool to watch the red carpet procession and accompanying broadcasts on tv and recognize all the places in the background. Even the theater, where Dad and I took a tour and we sat in about the twentieth row to ask questions and even after the guide had expressly forbade us from having our phones on, his rang while she was speaking and I wanted to creep into a crack in the chairs like an androgynous, permeable liquid.

This morning in Trademarks, Professor Smith walked in at a particularly brisk clip and said in his trademark (sorry; couldn’t help it) expressionless monotone, “You may find this humorous, but I just got a phone call that my daughter stuck a small plastic toy up her nose. I need to go pick her up and take her to the doctor or the emergency room or whatever the situation requires, so class is cancelled for today.” Then in Real Estate, Professor McDonald said that if we wind up getting the predicted six inches of snow tonight, he won’t be able to get in to school tomorrow because (insert monotone drone here) the wind is coming from the North, which will blow a drift over his half-mile driveway and make it all but impossible for him to commute. In the words of Duckie from Pretty in Pink, do I thee offend? Is it me? Speaking of Real Estate, the girl who sits in front of me, Allison, changed her hair from dark blonde to red. It looks wonderful! I was so jealous.

In those Hollywood Hills...

“A beagle won the Westminster dog show for the first time in its 132-year history, thus prevailing in the war on . . . terrier.
[pause]
[aside] You’ve been gone 100 days, and this is the shit you’re gonna pull?”
- Jon Stewart

I’m at the MPRE study course. It’s supposed to run from 9 to 3 but it seems very slow going, so I’m not hopeful. I’m so bored already. We have 24 pages to plug through, we’re on page 7, and it’s 11:40. Sigh.

It’s so strange to hear advertisements for the Academy Awards at the Kodak Theater. I’ve been there! I stayed at the hotel across the street! I walked past it every morning as I wandered around waiting for Dad to get ready & taking in the sights, gawking at the passerby and gaping at the endless arrays of overpriced trinkets attractively aligned to best solicit the attention of tourists eager to part with their pocket change. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to go back!

I made the mistake of leaving a can of soda in one of my many bags o’ books & it was so cold outside I came out in the morning to find the can had exploded and left brown-hued ice shards everywhere. Now all my PR books look like I spilled coffee on them. Yet another stellar display of intelligence on the part of the graduate student in the family. Sigh.

Here's Hoping

“When you grow up, your heart dies.”
- Allison, The Breakfast Club

For some reason I didn’t sleep last night. I finally fell asleep at midnight after lying in bed since nine-thirty absolutely exhausted. Then I woke up at 2, and then 4, and then 6... maybe too much caffeine yesterday? Actually, I think it was the lack of activity before I went to bed. I didn’t got to a movie and couldn’t go to the gatehouse because they were having a karaoke contest; at least tonight I’ll be able to go there. That seemed to successfully konk me out on Tuesday evening.

It’s kind of cool that I’m almost done but at the same time I’m not looking forward to moving. Tonight I have to pack a bit because Lost is on and I am incapable of sitting around watching television. I can’t find my Blockbuster card so I can’t go rent a movie...I wonder how difficult it is to apply for a card? They’re going out of business, so it can’t possibly be that complicated.... speaking of, there’s a great one coming out next Friday called The Other Boelyn Girl. It looks really good - I’m not into the romance crap but it is a historical fiction, which I like, and it stars Scarlett Johanssen, whom I adore. So maybe that’ll turn out to be the new Sweeney Todd, if it’s not oversexed. It’s coming out on the 29th, by the way, of February. Very cool.

I feel like such a moron sitting here all slouched over with my hair hanging in my face. You’d think the prospect of impending freedom would help pull me together, but it seems not to be having much of an effect. sheesh. I’m kind of worried about the upcoming weekend and how I will handle it, but I’m trying to map it out so it doesn’t mentally intimidate me. I’ll have class, Lori and then the Martina concert on Friday. Saturday I’ll go to the gym in the morning, the review course from 10-3, the gym again, and then to see Charlie Bartlett in the evening. Sunday might be the only problem... I’ll obviously have homework and stuff, and go to the gym as much as my knee will tolerate. There’s the Academy Awards in the evening to keep my mind occupied and during the day I’m going to go to the local version of Glaze to paint something. So that should take care of the weekend, right? I hope so. I pray so.

Emotional Recession

“If I had a dollar for every time someone mentioned a recession, I’d convert them to euros.”
- Steven Cobert

Well, I just finished my deposition in my Witness course. The professor randomly picks our names out of an urn at the beginning of class. I was drawn fourth out of the five students that are picked every class period, the rough equivalent of the first post position on a rainy afternoon at a sloppy racetrack: meaning, my co-counsel has (in their collective sixty minutes of inquiry) expended all the easy questions and left me the tough stuff. At the end she commented on each of our performances, and as she was critiquing my three predecessors I kept thinking, oh crap, I did entirely the wrong thing. Each of them had passed their time posing specific questions they had dutifully prepared drawing upon their backgrounds as trial advocacy participants. The only edge I had on them was that, of all sixteen students, I was the only survivor of a Patent Law course (with a good grade, I might add), so I figured that’s the angle I ought to play: use any edge you have, right? So I went up and, without the benefit of any unconquered territory left to mine or experience from whence to draw, pretended I was a patent attorney and asked him to walk me through each of the pertinent patent claims line-by-line. Ultimately during the so-called critique period, the professor said she had been waiting for someone to do that. In the course of his explanation, the expert witness we were disposing had actually stood up and started drawing diagrams on the board. I was the only person who got him so engrossed in his explanation that he actually did this, which she said was an absolutely great thing - “The things you learn once you get them drawing...” So I suppose it wasn’t an absolute disaster. Could’ve been worse. At least I’m free until April, by which time I ought to have myself physically pulled together and accordingly infused with confidence. But Mom got me a Martina McBride ticket for Friday. Hooray! Something to look forward to!

Perfection Found . . . and Lost

“The wind of Heaven is that which blows between a horse’s ears.”
- Arabian proverb

I rarely remember my dreams, so when I do they bear recording and repeating. I dreamed that I just happened to show up at the horse show where one of my old friends Carrie and her mother Dorothy rode. By sheer chance I walked past Carrie leading Winfield all decked out in travel gear (polo wraps, bell boots, fuzzy halter) toward the trailer - he had been sold. I protested vociferously, and after phoning my parents to procure the necessary voice of financing they allowed me to purchase him. I was so excited I led him back to his stall and unwrapped him and generally spent a lot of time preening over him. Then I walked into the tack room and two of the other girls who were tacking up their horses for a lesson and one of them sneered, “You just don’t get it, do you?” I gaped at her blankly. “There’s a virus going around. It’s a horrible flu, highly contagious.” I continued to stare at her stupidly, and inquired, “So?” She leaned in and hissed at me, “Your pony’s a carrier.” Then she backed away, “Good luck.”

That evening I went to stay with a young boy and his grandmother. I didn’t really notice that every portion of the apartment complex was partitioned off by glass. Around two in the morning the grandmother flew into a frenzy because she found the boy in a coma sitting upright in his chair, presumably thanks to the flu. She gathered him up in his arms and tore out of the apartment. I stood there and wondered what to do, whether it was too late to call my mother and solicit advice.

Now here’s the analysis. A generally-accepted, longstanding theory is that dreams are nothing but an anagram of images and experiences from a person’s daily existence. According to a prominent scholar who operated under the moniker of Evans, every time we go to sleep our brains disengage from the external world and use the time to sort through and organize all the information that was taken in throughout the day. So here’s what prompted each portion of the night terror, per my own analysis:

(i) the horse show:

I fell asleep reading The Other Boelyn Girl by Philippa Gregory, the portion where Mary is sent away into hiding from the king and spends her day puttering around on her mare and hanging out in the barn.

(ii) Carrie & Dorothy:

As an attempt to put myself to sleep, I have started painting jumps for model horses. When I was sick in the hospital, they made me this beautiful red brick one.

(iii) Winfield:

I think of him constantly.

(iv) the travel gear:

I have replaced the Gilmore Girls with this ABC Family show called Wildfire, which in the last episode featured a horse with a bum leg wearing a wrap on it. It really stuck in my mind because they only put a wrap on the bad leg, when everyone knows what you do to a leg on one side of the horse you must do to the leg on the other side as well.

(v) the virus/flu:

the “law school plague” is spreading around the school, and our Witness course professor mentioned it last week Wednesday in class. I am dreading this evening’s class.

(vi) the mean girls:

last night they had a promotion at the movie theater called “bring your own container.” Loads of young, thin girls were bringing these giant Tupperware containers to be filled with popcorn for fifty cents. I could not believe they were shoveling this stuff in without a care.

(vii) Winfield being a carrier:

I keep fearing a visit to him because I’m terrified it will throw me into a depression. I suppose there’s nowhere to go but up, though.

(viii) the young boy and his grandmother:

I have no idea... maybe because I fell asleep to the Gilmore Girls, and the last scene I remember was Rory visiting her Grandmother and asking to stay in the pool house? But that’s a stretch.

(ix) the boy’s coma:

(I gather this “flu” is something like a quick-onset bubonic plague that lapses you into slumber before you succumb) this has to be prompted by Heath Ledger’s recent overdose on sleeping pills, which slowed his breathing to the point that he lapsed into a coma before dying)

(x) calling Mom:

I head a knock on my door last night, another phantom knock, and seriously considered calling Mom because it flipped me out so badly.

I think the ultimate analysis, which would be proffered by everyone from Jung to Freud, is that I miss Winfield. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time and ride a Medium Pony Hunter Over Fences course one last time... meander out the gate and listen to Jill’s comments on what I did correctly or should do for next time... taking his saddle off and fishing about the ring box for a curry and a soft brush to chisel away at the inevitable girth mark that would be left behind... walk down the aisle to our barn’s area and see his bright, freckled head, inquisitive eyes and positively perfect ears flicking about as he watched me approach before nuzzling about for a treat. Popular science and common knowledge states that, regardless of the depths and extent to which a person searches, no one will ever find a perfect yin to seamlessly complete their yang. I have evidence to the contrary. He was the textbook definition of perfect.

Blogthings

What Ashley Means

- You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. - You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. - You have the classic "Type A" personality. - You are the total package - suave, sexy, smart, and strong. - You have the whole world under your spell, and you can influence almost everyone you know. - You are truly an original person. You have amazing ideas, and the power to carry them out. - Success comes rather easily for you... especially in business and academia. - You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow. - You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily. - Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is. - You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone. - You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together. - At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together. - You are a free spirit, and you resent anyone who tries to fence you in. - You are unpredictable, adventurous, and always a little surprising. - You may miss out by not settling down, but you're too busy having fun to care.

A Two-Thirds Panic

“It’s supposed to be hard! If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great.” - A League of Their Own

Well, it’s Tuesday. I guess that is self-explanatory... but the big thing is, that means tomorrow is Wednesday. This is also self-explanatory, but of paramount import: it’s the first evening we’re doing the “exploratory” portion of our Witness course. I am dreading it beyond belief. I mean, I cannot go on to tell you. There are no words. I am trying to comprise a list of things I would rather do than sit in front of sixteen people and interview a stranger and am coming up with, as you might imagine, a remarkably truncated list. I am so tired. I kept waking up last night and I think it’s directly proportional to the time left before the Witness course. How am I going to survive this all semester? The good news is, we only have to do it once this month, and then we’re off the hook until April. So five people will be randomly selected tomorrow - I have a 33% chance of having to endure hell. But, a spit of dialogue from The Bourne Ultimatum comes to mind: “I hope for the best but plan for the worst.” So, even though there’s a two-thirds chance that I won’t be called on tomorrow, I’ll go ahead and flip out anyway. I am so tired, have I mentioned that yet? I can’t believe it’s only 11:15 in the morning and I have like ten hours yet to go in this horrid excuse of a day. Sigh. “Take a load off... Take a load for free...”

I can’t believe they cancelled Gilmore Girls, yet programs like Big Brother and Dancing with the Stars are allowed to remain. I don’t understand things like Gray’s Anatomy or House, either. And don’t get me started on The Biggest Loser - how about the biggest piece of crap show in the history of television? They all seem like crap to me. Predigested, un-thoughtprovoking mush precariously balanced and manipulated and masticated to proffer the maximum appeal to the mindless masses... and I lost my thunder. It just collapsed. And there you have it: I’m so agitated about tomorrow I can’t think clearly. Or I need sleep. Likely both.

Catch a Cannonball

[seeing Rory making her hour-by-hour exam week agenda]
Lorelai: Hey, could we move your chill session from four o'clock tomorrow afternoon to right now? That'd be great, thanks.
[later]
Rory: There is no chill time scheduled for four o'clock tomorrow, and the one thing I really don’t have time for are your jokes, missy!
- Gilmore Girls

Made the mistake of watching the Grammys® last night... and I do emphasize the word “mistake.” What a joke. So many questions, no sufficient answers. What happened to music? When did we flush quality down the toilet? What happened to pop? When was it swallowed whole by R&B and regurgitated as some Mariah Carey-esque excuse to grind a semioperational voice up and down randomly-selected scales spewing semi-decipherable lyrics? What the hell happened to Beyonce’s pants? (Mom said, when you look like her I guess you can stand to leave them behind. I think pants and skirts are obligatory in most societies for a reason, but that’s just me. I’m sure the male half of my species disagrees.) What tasteless idiots decided to give Vince Gill “Country Album of the Year” over George Strait’s infinitely more deserving and quality-replete It Just Comes Natural?

There were two legitimate highlights of the evening. One was when Kanye West, whom I despise, accepted an entirely undeserved award for something-or-other and the orchestra started cuing him to wrap up his speech by piping music over his words. Without missing a beat, he muttered, “It would be in good taste to turn off the music now.” They did, the audience cheered, and score one for the antiestablishment movement! For once, I agree with the guy on something. The other was Amy Winehouse’s performance, so highly publicized throughout he evening that I thought for sure they had set the poor girl up for a letdown. But she was wonderful! She retained the slightly dazed/drunk/stoned demeanor permeated by passionate lyric renditions that served as the trademark of her pre-rehab performances and provided the highlight of the evening via satellite.

I just heard Daughtry’s newest single and Dad was absolutely correct: every single song sounds the same. Like he recorded one sixty-minute song and the record company partitioned it into three- and four-minute sections for the purposes of track naming and radio release.

We had a meeting about graduation today. They handed out these sheets summarizing our law school career (“graduation reports” they’re officially called, but they bear a strong resemblance to unofficial transcripts as I understand them in the common vernacular). I am so tired. It’s strange to see the last three years of my life neatly summarized in eight-point New Courier on an Excel printout. Hopefully it was not time wasted.

We were talking about “band leaders” in Trademarks and that got me thinking about the proliferation of strange band names I’ve encountered over the years of writing bios. Then I started thinking what I might name a band were I to found one. Perhaps Beyond the Great Divide, a nod to The Band? Or perhaps The Load Out, in honor of Jackson Browne’s incredibly insightful tune? It’s tougher than it sounds. Cannonball, in honor of The Band’s “The Weight”? You know, “catch a Cannonball to take me on down the line...”

The Phantom Knocks

“The only way to keep your health is to eat what you don't want, drink what you don't like, and do what you'd rather not.”
- Mark Twain

I got home last night, put my laundry in the washer, cooked some zucchini and sat down to watch the latest qualifying round for Spruce Meadows, which I had DVR’d earlier that day. As this beautiful dappled grey was pummeling toward an oxer, I heard four sharp raps on my door. Being the calm, cool and collected creature that I am and dealing as adeptly with crises and novel situations as I do, I acted completely rationally and froze, with just my eyes flicking about. Honestly, if I were an Animagus from the Harry Potter novels and used a spell to turn myself into an animal, my alter ego would probably be a rabbit. Anyway, after about thirty seconds someone knocked again. I still did not move. In retrospect I should have crept over to the round window and peered out to see who it was, but I was too freaked out. Who even knows I live there? Who would know to come knocking? If it were someone from the maintenance staff, they would just let themselves in after knocking to no response, so I did not feel obligated to open the door.

Nothing happened for a while, so I resumed my business. I called Mom just as I was ready to leave to see a movie (I was considering Juno instead of Sweeney Todd, just for a change) and she volunteered to stay on the phone with me while I put my coat on and walked down to my car. Not ten seconds after I set the phone down to grab my purse and coat the knock came again. I called out “Who it it?” three times to no response, but in all fairness we had a major storm last night, so the person probably did not hear me.

Anyway, wound up staying home last night and cleaning. I put in a Gilmore Girls DVD and listened while I cleaned. I picked the episode where she starts receiving her college acceptance letters and gets in everywhere - Harvard, Yale, Colombia, etc. I had a friend who went to Duke. He’s in China now, or somewhere overseas, doing who knows what. A German history major in China; am I missing a link in the logical connection there? None of my business, I suppose.

It is absolutely torrential outside; just pouring buckets. I suppose it’s better than the hail we had Sunday or the cut-it-with-a-knife fog of yesterday. I am so tired I cannot even verbalize it. I feel as though I could just put my head down on the seat next to me and be off forever. In one of the lecture rooms we have two giant painter’s buckets collecting drips from the ceiling; good to know our tuition dollars are going to good use.

Published another article in the Illinois Business Law Journal called “Careful Where You Click” about the legality of shrink-wrap licenses. Rubbish.

The Day, Part II

Curly: I’m studying to be supervisor.
Jim Craig: Studying to be stupid.
- The Man from Snowy River

Just another day, I guess. Even though it has nothing to do with me, I wish the autopsy reports had come back with some conclusive, definitive answer about what killed Ledger. We’re going to have to wait two weeks, if indeed the family even decides to share the results with the public. I now understand peoples’ unflagging allegiance to stupid happenings in the news. I always roll my eyes at people who enthusiastically follow news proceedings regarding a particular current event, but this one actually fascinates me. Perhaps it’s just convenient for my unconscious mind to dwell on death the week of my birthday.

I’m in Complex Litigation, which I have rapidly come to loathe, and the bloke sitting behind me is driving me even nuttier than I already am. I am rapidly progressing from a Peanut to an Almond and if he keeps crinkling granola bar wrappers and dumping some sort of fluid between two containers while periodically emitting irritating exclamations of “aaah,” I’m going to snap. What really raises my ire is that the professor prohibited us from occupying the last three rows of the classroom, so I’m in the last permitted row on the end; however, this blowhole waltzed in late and, totally disregarding the fact that no one else was sitting in the final three rows, plunked down right behind me. If he does not stop sighing and yawning and shaking his powdered drink I will sacrifice my portable microphone recorder to lodge it in his aorta and give him something to sigh about. Dude, shut up.

I wish I were driving home tonight, as I did last semester. This 10:30-noon class on Fridays is going to be the death of me. How annoying. And I can’t even ditch it with any semblance of regularity because three absences equates a failing grade... just what I need.

Last night I woke up about three times soaking in sweat. I don’t know why. My apartment certainly isn’t hot... I take pains to ensure precisely the opposite. Maybe it’s just my body expressing disgust that I’m so fat. I can’t believe I let myself fall apart to this extent. Now I’m 25 and totally miserable as opposed to living it up or whatever I’m supposed to be doing at this age. There was a movie starring Matt Damon and Danny DeVito based on a John Grisham novel called The Rainmaker which (according to the brief preview) centered around the happenings of an enthusiastic young lawyer. I started watching it and was so bored I actually opted for the Weather Channel. Isn’t that rather alarming, considering I’m a law student? Shouldn’t I find these types of things immensely interesting? Running with the theory that my mind is desperately seeking escapism, I rented Stardust starring Robert DeNiro and Claire Danes, and it was wonderful. I don’t really understand why it bombed at the box office; must have been a marketing fluke. Or the market is just oversaturated with fantasy flics at the moment. I guess people just didn’t really understand what it was all about - I certainly didn’t.

I’m back to rambling. Reviewing my posing habits, I had a tendency to post religiously first year and the first half of second year, then drifted off and submitted nary a word last semester. I regret that now; one day, if I make it past thirty (which I seriously doubt), I will seek to review my law school experiences, or at least revisit the mindset entertained during those years. Who am I, as a younger person, to deny my future self such endeavors? Okay, this guy behind me is going down. I’m thinking a straw up his nose might be just the thing. How many wrappers can he possibly have to unfurl? Isn’t there an unwritten prohibition against coming in late and annoying the stuffing out of everyone around you?

The guy next to me is using a Macbook. On the one hand I’m totally jealous, because it looks beautiful and I love Macs, and on the other I am grateful for his contribution to my Apple stock’s value.

Everyone’s laughing now at one of the most pathetic jokes I’ve ever heard. Lawyers, or perhaps law students, are just a bunch of stuffy, uninteresting, uncreative, habitual, excessively punctual, pompous, self-righteous, conceited and uninspiring lumps with eyes. And now I have become one of them. Joy. None of us are in shape or particularly attractive. We’ve all morphed into these indecipherable gray blobs. I am desperately attemping to recall the last time I found something a classmate said in class even remotely interesting and am failing fantastically.

It’s only 10:00; fifteen minutes until the expiration of this particular torture, and then I can rush to the restroom before the initiation of Round 2. I can’t even save my seat while I do so by leaving my coat behind because I’m so fat I can’t take my coat off. Hopefully I will make it back in time to duke it out for a decent spot in PR. I have to use the restroom so badly, though. I could get up and go now but then everyone would look at me as I left and returned and I just cannot deal with it, between my stringy hair and puffy cheeks and butt that needs its own zip code. I am so tired my eyes keep drifting shut. I did my four shots of espresso again this morning, but it doesn’t seem sufficient this time. My head keeps jolting about.

10:05; ten minutes. Zzzz . . .

(Later)

Wow, the only way I can think to describe this professor is to parallel her alongside Professor Umbridge from Harry Potter. She bears a remarkable resemblance visually to the representation in the fifth movie, and in terms of personality/practice to the conveyance so eloquently articulated in the novels. Too bad we don’t have Hermione and Firenze’s ilk around...

I woke up this morning at 6:15 and couldn’t fall back to sleep, after waking about four times in a complete sweat. Did I mention that earlier? I believe so... it just bothers me, because it has never happened before that I can recall. I don’t feel like I have a fever and it wasn’t particularly warm, but I was bundled under about forty-three blankets in addition to my comforter and fleece jacket, so maybe I just overdid it. I’m just desperate not to fall ill, and there’s such a proud, continual draft from the window in my bedroom that I had to do something to fend it off.

It kind of sucks that I’m going to go all day without one person acknowledging my birthday in person, but that is entirely my fault. I could have come here and made a bunch of friends and a nice home away from home but I chose to live with my head in one state and my body in another. Maybe I’ll go see 27 Dresses tonight as a miniature birthday party. As I read that, it sounds really pathetic. what a loser.

We’re under a windchill advisory here, and it’s so cold the parking meters would not even accept coins this morning. I don’t blame them. I’d like to shut down, too.

Your Birthdate: January 24

- For you, love is a natural progression from friendship. You are almost always friends first. - In love, you are loyal, steady, and honest. You are not a cheater or even much of a flirt. - You are likely to stay friends with your ex... and open to rekindling something in the future. - Number of True Loves You'll Have: 4 - Number of Times You'll Have Your Heart Broken: 1 - You are most compatible with people born on the 6th, 15th, and 24th of the month.

Sisyphus and the Mental State

“I’m tired of spinning my wheels...”
- Montgomery Gentry, “Speed”

I’m too sensitive. The slightest slip of tongue can shudder my sense of well-being to the depths of my consciousness and shatter my self-perception into tiny shards that cannot be realigned regardless of the efforts expended in such a manner. But by the same token, tiny seemingly insignificant observations can flood me with comfort and glee. For instance, I woke around 1:15 this morning and glanced out the window to see a slim sprinkling of snow over the ground. In a sort of serpentine pattern at the bottom of my stairwell looped a familiar pattern of small paws and larger floppy-type feet: rabbit tracks! In an instant I had returned to a USM field trip wherein we visited some outdoor hiking trail to learn to track particular animals, and one of the tour guides asked someone to demonstrate how a rabbit hops. They do it in a particular manner, and I was the only one able to do so correctly. It filled me with such pride to execute the demonstration successfully. And now, no matter what I do, I cannot seem to replicate the sentiment.

I can’t believe I’m 25. I don’t know where I thought I would be now, but it had to do with a stable mental state I thought I would be able to acquire twelve years after The Illness. Not to sound morbid and morose, but it seems perpetually beyond my reach. I’m like Sisyphus, cursed to roll my mindset toward sanity only to watch it retreat regardless of my input, and repeat this throughout eternity.

Facedown in a Memory

“Don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want. Go for it.”
- Patrick Verona, Heath Ledger’s character in 10 Things I Hate About You

So I’m on the running machine yesterday, listening to my iPod and kind of half-daydreaming as I glance over the shoulders of athletes on the row in front of me to be nosy and see what they’re watching when I catch a glimpse of the guy from 10 Things I Hate About You and the text below it, “Heath ledger Found Dead at 28.” The person changed the channel immediately but I fished around in the forties until I located CNN Headline news and, sure enough, the guy was found dead in a New York apartment with some sleeping pills nearby. I don’t know why this bothers me so much. I never particularly liked the guy - I found him arrogant and self-important, always speaking of his “craft” and degrading the press, Hollywood and everything associated therewith. I thought A Knight’s Tale was ludicrous, hated The Patriot and loathed Monster’s Ball, which resulted in my subsequent, unconscious boycott of every film in which he starred. But then over winter break, Dad and I went to see Sweeney Todd (which I positively, absolutely, wholeheartedly adored, and if Johnny Depp doesn’t finally acquire an Oscar we will officially know the entire awards show is a sham) and one of the previews before the film was for the new Batman movie. I have never particularly cared for the entire franchise and my fondness for Christian Bale does not extend beyond what he earned in Pretty Women, but the preview featured this Joker who seemed so pathologically insane, intense and beyond all possible reasoning that, as a former psychology major, I was intrigued to no end. I went home to investigate the film on the IMDB only to discover, with absolute and utter shock, that Heath Ledger was the Joker with whom I had so quickly become enamored! I could not believe the actor I had so callously dismissed could conjure such a fascinating psychological fulcrum. I was actually looking forward to The Dark Knight, the first Batman or James Bond film I could foresee myself voluntarily attending (instead of showing up with a cloak of interest to appease my social companions).

I don’t know why his death bothers me to such an extent. The only movie I liked him in was 10 Things I Hate About You, which he has repeatedly and openly renounced as a brainless teen movie he only took part in to crack the LA threshold. I guess because sleeping pills, to my mind, would be the way to go. Just figure out what they don’t mix with, fall asleep and never wake up. An overdose of them inhibits the body’s ability to breathe on its own, so you’d enter dreamland like Nemo and never return. The only disturbing thing is that he was found naked at the foot of his bed. Dr. Something-or-other on CNN stated that this is not an uncommon occurrence. Are you kidding me? I’m 24 and I’m trying to think of one time I have spent more than a split second exiting the shower unclothed... I cannot come up with one. Normal? Really? Maybe for Hollyweird, to borrow a Savage term.

Okay, It’s 8:14am and I’m sitting in my Complex Lit classroom and I just checked my e-mail and class is cancelled. She just sent the e-mail at 7:29 this morning. I could still be in bed. Thanks a lot, lady.

But, you know, they deem this entire event “tragic,” yet it’s the Marlon Brando versus James Dean thing. As Neil Young says, “Better to burn out than to fade away.” Now Heath will be forever young, and probably remembered for what might turn out to be his best role ever, as the Joker.

Jeez.

Here We Go Again

Antony: I meant no harm!
Judge: Your meaning is immaterial.
- Sweeney Todd

I’m in Real Estate Finance now. I showed up at 12:45 for the 1:30 class and one person was in the massive classroom, sitting in the center of the front row (totally non-prime real estate as far as I’m concerned). I did get my seat. Hopefully he’ll pass around the seating chart today so I don’t have to repeat this process on Monday.

The drive this morning was awful. First the dog wanted nothing to do with going outside, eating or partaking of any activity that would even remotely resemble helpful behavior. I actually picked him up to drag him over for some chicken/food and he attempted to show his teeth at me! We had to have it out over that point.

First I hit traditional downtown traffic. Then I hit the Illinois border traffic, which did not deteriorate until I reached the freeway change. I thought I was home-free at that point (because really, who would be headed to southern Illinois on a Tuesday morning?) but we hit standstill traffic that eclipsed even that which which I contended in Chicago. Eventually, on the other side of the freeway, I saw two towing vehicles pass with FedEx trucks attached, A lot of people who were expecting packages by 10am are going to be verrrry disappointed!

So here we are again. Another week, if a truncated one. I can’t believe I’m going to be 25. I’m having a quarter-life crisis. But at least Sweeney Todd is playing at the local theater, so I will still be able to partake of my evening slumber.

The Final Semester : Day Four

LORELAI: How dark is it?
LUKE: How dark is what?
LORELAI: The cumulus nimbus hovering over my head.
LUKE: Huh?
LORELAI: The black cloud. Was that a drop?
LUKE: What are you talking about?
LORELAI: I have some very bad news.
- Gilmore Girls

Here goes Day 4. I arrived for my 9 o’clock class at 7:45 because, as previously stated, I am a pathological idiot. BUT there was one bloke who arrived before me, so I’m not entirely insane. He had perched in the back row on the far left yesterday and occupied the same spot today, so he apparently has the same partiality I do toward the back corners. Hey, as long as he leaves my corner alone, we’re all good.

Today starts courses with the Professor From Hell, or so she is heralded. I wonder. I sure hope she’s not as horrendous and imposing as her reputation indicates, although all reports and evidence thus far has been to the contrary. It does not look promising.

The biggest challenge today will be staying awake. I mean this in all seriousness, because I just did the “sitting-up-but-falling-asleep thing” and jolted awake to find that I had typed “nerent natreo” in my notes. Any ideas? Anybody?

OKAY! I went through all the pain and hassle of arriving insanely early only for the professor to apologize that she forgot the seating chart today. Forgot? Forgot?! Are you kidding me?

The Final Semester : Day Three

Well, on one hand, I was the only 3L insane enough to arrive at 7:30 for a 9:00 class. On the other hand, someone beat me there - a 2L preceded me. Yes! My inane behavior has company! I hope to God she passes around the seating chart today so I don’t have to do this tomorrow. The only good news is that my class this afternoon, the use of Expert Witnesses, is in a classroom with a course that ends fifteen minutes before I start, so I don’t have to arrive insanely early.

This evening I have a seminar course on the use of Expert Witnesses: learning how to cross, direct, recross and redirect under examination, how to select them, etc. It’s a three-hour course but it’s taught by the same professor who helmed Insurance Law last semester (and whom I adored), so I hope it won’t prove as imposing as it sounds.

I look like hell rolled over by a car. I must have taken out my rollers at some point to improve my chances of sleeping so my hair looks like I thrust my little finger in an electrical socket. I didn’t want to take the time to fire up the ‘ol hair straightener this morning lest I miss securing my spot, so.... here I am. Struggling to keep my eyes open. I could use some toothpicks to pry them open; anybody have any? Anybody? last semester I could comfort myself that I only had one more night and then I would be home but I have two more nights and no prospect of sleep on the horizon and at this point the prospect of a one-way ticket to an inpatient mental institution has a rather alarming appeal.

The Final Semester : Day Two

“Anyone read the case? Do we have volunteers or do we want dental extractions?”

“So the Court consults the dictionary to determine the ordinary meaning of words. This is right next to Judge Friendly in terms of wattage, I must say...”

Professor Smith: And what does the court conclude?
Student: That ‘fish fry’ is a useful term for describing fish fries.
Professor Smith: The profundities continue.

I screeched out of a dream this morning with the alarm at 7am, only to roll over with a moan right into a nice big glob of my own drool, produced in involuntary droves by my mouthpiece. Somehow I managed to arrive at the gym and greet the person who scans us in, although I do not recall doing so, before pushing myself through an hour on the elliptical machine (the simulated runner, since my knee STILL is not cooperating and every time I catch a rerun of Scrubs I am sorely tempted to enlist Turk’s assistance in simply hacking off the blasted, stubborn, inoperable pain-in-the-tail appendage....)

Anyway, afterward I was going to stay and do some sit-ups before arriving at school around 10 because the class before my Trademarks course did not end until 10:15, but something told me I ought to leave immediately. I am big on signs and such, so I adhered the prophecy and left early. In the absence of a parking spot I had to emulate my father’s practice of occupying a no-parking zone, but I entered the building just in time to discover that the class prior to us actually ended at 9:45, so my arrival at 9:50 was absolutely unintended and positively fortuitous. Only one kid had arrived before me, and he occupied the seat directly in front of me, while I was able to procure my preferred spot on the back row on the right-hand side. Phew! And now we’ve officially signed the seating chart, so I’m all set.

Only one course today (and yesterday) because our Real Estate Finance professor is out of town this week and his courses won’t start until the 22nd (we have off for MLK day).

I am sooooo tired, I keep falling asleep. That almost never happens in Professor Smith’s courses (he’s teaching Trademarks) because I find him absolutely hilarious and he’s two steps ahead of everyone, so you have to pay attention to catch the humor he obscures in a seamless monotone. I fell asleep around 12:30 last night, woke up around 1:30, went back to bed at 3, and got up at 7, so I guess that’s five hours. I should be functioning. I am contending with a fervent desire to down my traditional three shots of espresso, but I don’t want to undertake any activity that could undermine my attempts to engage in some semblance of slumber this evening.

Zzzzz.....

The Final Semester : Day One

Day 1 uneventful. Of course I was the only 3L insane enough to show up at 7:30 for a 10:30 class but, hey, I got my seat. As he was running role, he muttered, “Are there any other courses being taught at the law school this spring?!” He passed through about twenty names before seamlessly answering himself, “I guess not...” Then he opened the class by saying something to the effect of, “Obviously, my reputation as one of the most cantankerous and ornery professors at the law school has not sufficiently spread throughout the relevant community, so I will do my best in the next hour or so to convince you all of that fact and if you would do your part to spread the word, I would appreciate it greatly.”

My typical second class of the day, Real Estate Finance, will not begin until next Tuesday because the professor is off partaking of some unspecified activity at an unnamed location. Hmm. The Firm, anyone?

Not Surprised...

“There's one raincloud in the entire sky and it's raining on me. Somehow I'm not surprised.” - Eeyore

The future is not looking bright. We had a guest speaker in Patent Law this morning - he’s an expert on damages in patent law litigation, and for a minute it looked like it was going to be a fun hour because he’s rather good-looking. Then he opened his mouth. He has the voice of Jay Leno’s intern on the Tonight Show. (Speaking of... what the hell? When is this writer’s strike going to end? I miss Headlines and Jaywalking.) He’s said “I feel...” about five times, and we’re only ten minutes into the speech. So every guest speaker we’ve ever had, in any of my classes, are either overweight, perceptively miserable, or the kind of person you would want a friend to lodge a bullet in your temple if you ever became. Behold my future. It is littered with educational pursuits that ought to validate my existence, but is actually endlessly terrifying. Yikes.

Strange Dream

°o° On this day in 2001, Disneyland and Disney World closed after the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington. It was only the second time a park had closed for a reason other than weather.

I stopped at the strip mall that used to be right next to the Audobon Bookstore by my house and ran into one of the stores to quickly retrieve something. When I came out, someone had driven off in my car.

Hmm.

They say the terrorist attacks are the “Kennedy Assassination” for my generation, and indeed I still remember precisely where I was when I heard about “9/11.” I had just rounded the corner after North Avenue heading toward the Marquette Interchange on the expressway, en route to an Organic Chemistry course. I was listening to ManCow on 102.1 and he said, “Seriously, folks, turn on the television right now; I’m not kidding. The twin towers have been hit. I’m completely serious. Turn me off and listen to the news.” Chemistry proceeded as normal, but materiality afternoon Biology lab was cancelled.

Year Three :: Day Three : Class Five

I’m in Insurance Law now and three people sitting in front of me have all loaded their AIM programs and are IM’ing each other frantically. Then one of them will laugh and look at the other and guys, could this be more obvious? Tone it down a touch, hmm?

As I was walking in, I noticed Professor Smith is teaching section A Property to the poor, hapless 1Ls right before my course. I sent him an e-mail reminiscing about my very first Property course and his reference to Monty Python; he’s my absolute favorite. I also slipped in a pointed remark about my eager anticipation of his spring Trademark/Unfair Competition course, in the hope that he will not cancel it. That will be my last Intellectual Property course that I’ve been lusting after… hopefully the times will pan out.

And now for something completely different… I am still in mourning for the Gilmore Girls. I realize this is a Wednesday, not a Tuesday, but it’s a retroactive sentiment.

Year Three :: Day Three : Class Four

Business Associations should be interesting, but it’s kind of pointless because we take notes all semester only to have our grade hinge entirely on a paper. But the good news is I’m now down to three final exams - international law is a paper, and business is partially a paper and partially in-class participation.

Should I do moot court this year?

Of Crickets and Circadas

°o° On this day in 1929 The Skeleton Dance, the first cartoon in the Silly Symphonies series, was released.

I love crickets.

Their gleeful song echoes up the stairwell into my apartment and wafts along on the pine tree scent of the incense I burn every evening. But the flipside (and there always is one, isn’t there?) is that the circadas are so vehemently vociferous and unified in the evening that you actually have to turn up your radio once the sun descends. They’re not that loud at home… maybe it’s the heat?

They have a bunch of new stations on Sirirus that I’m getting acquainted with on my extended travels, and I found one that’s so absolutely perfect for me I can scarcely believe it - Coffee House, which plays nothing but acoustic singer/songwriters. They have everything from unsigned artists to big stars doing acoustic solo renditions of their megahits (yesterday I heard Adam Levine doing “Makes Me Wonder” with shocking adeptness). Fabulous! It took the place of my previous favorite station BBC Radio 1, the best new music from the U.K. direct from London.

I indulged in one of the cool things about being a law student: slipping into the research lab, plucking in the case code for the Jude trial and printing out every single document for free. They also have attorney profiles, so I got to read about where they all went to school and passed the bar and whatnot. Very cool.

This morning that lady from the gym cornered me again and, in front of the entire “group” as we’re called (there’s a pack of us that always go at the same time and kind of hang out together on the machines) said, “Doesn’t Ashley look wonderful?” They all concurred (“the summer’s been good to you”) and I was so mortified I wanted to crawl into my locker and cinch the MasterLock®.

In other local news, everyone will be delighted to learn that I have moved past the almost-felon on to someone in my insurance law class. Guy doesn’t even know I exist, but who cares… sometimes that’s best, I think.

Beavers in the Stream of Commerce

“I don’t want to be a beaver in the stream of commerce, but turn off your cell phones.” - Professor McDonald

We filled out our seating charts in all three classes today so Captain Neurotic managed to procure her precious spots. I'll have to reinitiate the war for ideal seating again tomorrow, when I undertake two brand-new courses.

I’m rather concerned about how I will perform in International Law. Everyone else seems so well-informed and I’m woefully ignorant about what’s going on in the world. Woefully or willfully, I guess that’s the question. Per the Matrix, sometimes the blue pill is preferable.

Well, fatigue has settled in. At least I’m sleeping thus far this year. I didn’t wake up at all Sunday night and only once last night, slamming into the Haunted Mansion tapestries on the wall two or three times before managing to stumble into the bathroom. It rained a smite this morning before tapering into a slightly sunny afternoon - at least it’s 80°. I’ll take it.

I don' t know what to think about this... but I'm only going to have three exams this semester. International Law is a paper, and Unincorporated Business Associations is 70% a paper and 30% in-class participation (the latter portion of which arouses my anxiety, I must admit). Hmm, tomorrow's Wednesday already. Friday's the big day. What's really strange is one of the ladies I know at the gym, totally unprovoked, came up to me and told me I “look great” and “look the best [I've] ever looked.” Never had that experience before. Am I deluded… or is she?

The Rules

Someone sent this out to the law school e-mail list, and I had to copy and save it for future reference. Very few things make me laugh out loud when I'm surrounded by people, but this was one of them....

From: Schneider, Joshua M. S
ent: Monday, August 20, 2007 5:02 PM
To:
Subject: The Rules

Dear Everyone:

As we enter a new year -- for some of us, our first in law school -- it seems worthwhile to remind ourselves of the appropriate uses of the mailing list. Acceptable uses of the mailing list are as follows:

(1) ads for used books;
(2) complaints about the number of ads for used books;
(3) ads for used supplements (legal);
(4) reminders to 1Ls, all of whom are vibrating at an extremely high frequency for the first couple of weeks of the semester, that it is crucial that they buy supplements (such as those listed for sale on the mailing list) if they have any hopes at all of ever securing a job; significant other; religious epiphany; or, if worst comes to worst, a warm grate to sleep on, out of the wind, and safely beyond the bounds of Angry Wilson's turf;
(5) accidentally sending extremely personal messages intended for a close friend to hundreds of strangers, none of whom were aware of your existence before, but all of whom now know enough about your intimate academic/medical/cat-sitting/romantic problems to casually but accurately judge you in the halls;
(6) sweeping and ill-considered statements on extremely controversial issues written late enough at night to be forgiven;
(7) wild overreactions to (6) in the form of either (a) ad hominem attacks written at equally forgivable hours, or (b) sanctimonious chidings which are capital offenses regardless of when they are written;
(8) concerned reminders in response to (7)(a), probably from the same people as (4), that law firms carefully monitor all law school mailing lists to cull the applicant pool, meaning that even the most innocent genitalia-based joke can condemn you to a life of back-breaking labor in the salt mines of public interest;
(9) playful responses to (5) and (7);
(10) bile-drenched responses to (9) from a hitherto entirely uninvolved party, often claiming to speak on behalf of the beleaguered 1Ls who are "under enough stress as it is" and are presumably incapable of navigating the delete button, despite have record high LSAT scores and being, according to Dean monthly newletter, the most physically attractive incoming class the College has ever had (19th in the nation, according to U.S. News and World Reports, just after Emory);
(12) reminders that there is a meeting Thursday at noon in room A, helpfully provided every hour on the hour for the 72 hours preceding the meeting;
(13) warnings not to miss the incredible one-time-only deal BARBRI has for its three day PowerMaxx(TM) bar preparation course and to act now. If you miss this incredible deal, you will be kicking yourself until this time next year when the deal is miraculously resurrected;
(11) complaints about parking.
If you have any questions, concerns, or comments about the acceptable uses listed above, please direct them to the entire list.

I can scarcely wait for the replies to start rolling in; they ought to be good. You guys think I'm acerbic... you have no idea. This ought to be good.