victory, maybe?

Finally, I heard back from the agency. They gave the, "Well, there's
a deadline so go ahead, but you need to do ABC." I was actually told
that my first draft was "bad in terms of making clear what your goals
were." That might be true, but I didn't think it was THAT bad.
Nevertheless, no one ever likes walking away from the conversation,
with approval to go forward with the proposal but being slightly
admonished that it hasn't been done correctly. Eeeek.

So, I'll get it in the mail. But it almost makes me feel like, why
bother? I hate feeling incompetent. I'm submitting this with a
whimper my tail between my legs. (no snarky comments, please).

Perhaps my horoscope was right on:
Someone is about to concede defeat -- maybe not in so many words, but
you'll know exactly what they're saying when it happens. Basically,
you've won. You've successfully defended yourself, against all odds.
Congratulations. Don't let this be the last time.
You're not quite sure what's gotten into you, and neither are your
dear ones. All of a sudden, you're determined to win, no matter what
the cost, and you're thinking twice before you open your mouth and let
your true feelings slide out. No, it's certainly not typical, but it's
not exactly out of character, either. After all, when was the last
time -- or the first -- that anyone accused you of being timid?

48 hours and counting.

I haven't heard from you in two days. I can't eat, sleep, work, or even enjoy the fact that the sun seems to have made an appearance over here in my corner of the world until I hear back from you. I think we have a good thing here. Don't we? I mean, I felt a connection. There was a spark. I'm not sure why you're being distant. I can't figure out what happened. Was it something I said? Something I did? Did I make you uncomfortable? Just talk to me, baby. We can work it out.

Since I have to FedEx this application tomorrow morning, if I don't hear from you, I'm going to go ahead and do it. I can always withdraw it later.

In the waiting line...

THE AGONY. Listen, JUST EMAIL ME BACK AND TELL ME whether that's ok or not. Because I have to FedEx this TOMORROW. I can't keep nervously checking my email every 3 seconds. It's driving me nutty.

Oh, and guess what? This article - Abuse alleged at 2 juvenile facilities - is PRECISELY THE POINT OF MY FELLOWSHIP PROPOSAL. Look how cutting-edge and brilliant I am to want to bring prisoners' legal services to youth detention facilities!

fellowship update: large and potentially fatal snag in proposal. currently trying to figure out if it is possible to resolve. insert string of frustrated curses here.

Focus!

Letter to self:

You are in a tizzy. You need to stop using your blog as a journal and go back to actually writing in your journal, like you resolved to do for the New Year. Unfortunately, your journal is at home when you most need it. Perhaps you should start carrying it around in your bookbag? That, and a treadmill? Perhaps a tranquilizer would be easier to carry.

Things that put you in a tizzy are: emails from BarBri pressuring you to CHOOSE CHOOSE CHOOSE a location or LOSE it; emails in response to your fellowship which, while favorable, raise questions that alarm you; emails from your professor regarding this case you're working on; phone calls from BarBri wondering what the hell you think you're doing and where.

Solution: Stop checking your goddamn email every 4.8 seconds. CLOSE THE MOTHERFLUBBIN browser and go back to tackling the mountain of reading for which you have to have a response paper written by tomorrow, in addition to a paper topic proposal. Once the mountain has become a molehill, then take a deep breath, re-open the email, and switch to non-classwork concerns. Address them via email, phone call, additional research or whatever, then close the browser, and return to classwork. Open Napster right now and start listening to Joss Stone, or Norah Jones, or Theivery Corporation, or the Buena Vista Social Club. Go to your happy place.

Solution #2: Quit doing hard things. This fellowship will not be easy, even if it were awarded to you. You complain about difficult things, but why are you always seeking them out? Knock it off already.

Solution #3: Quit. Everything. Period.

L'anxiouse squeal. (That's completely made-up but "Le sigh" just wasn't appropriate).

nervous.

I just emailed two people at the agency that is my purported fellowship sponsor. My proposal is still 30% too long (eeek) but it is now 33% of what it once was. So I've boiled it down LOTS. Anyway, I figured I should email them the proposal to see if they were still ok with me poking around like that. There's a chance that this won't even get past them. So I'm nervous. Why am I so nervous? I think I'm nervous because it's my very own brainchild. I mean, I am modeling it off a previous position I've had, but still, it took substantial research and poking around. I'm creating a position and hoping that it sells. If it doesn't sell to the agency then yikes. I'm afraid it might be too controversial. But this is the first step. We'll see what these people think of my creation. What if they hate it?

I don't wanna

That pretty much sums up my mood and why I've been a little more absent lately. Since my unofficial offer was mentioned in passing in my interview last Thursday, I've been content to sit on my ass. I did so, on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, on Monday and Tuesday I spent a lot of time doing that but also got some work done, then on Wed, Thurs, Fri, Sat of this week I did mostly sitting on my ass, with a handful of work on this fellowship app thrown in for good measure. You know, since I have to overnight it on Thurs and all, I should finish it.

The work, oddly, keeps coming in. I trudge through it day in and day out and I don't feel any closer to being DONE. Then I think, who cares? Tax is pass/fail, I should be able to learn that much in 2 days, right? If my prof hates my paper on race theory, who the fuck cares? What's the worst that can happen? B-? C+? Who cares? So what if that unofficial job offer falls through? There's not a blessed thing I can do about it now, is there?

Yesterday I had to go pick up stuff I had left in my neighborhood from this past fall, stuff that wouldn't make it all in one trip. I went to breakfast with my dearest friend at our usual breakfast diner spot. I was in town for LESS THAN 90 minutes and I ran into: 1. the guy I went on a date with back in September and avoided ever since (it appears as though I never blogged it - oh well. some other time) 2. the hot twins that live on the block. they stopped and chatted, 3. two of my old roommates were behind me at a traffic light as I was leaving. It was all sorts of bizarre to run into that many people in such a short period of time. I was convinced the Universe was playing pranks on me.

I can't wait until baseball starts, so I have something constructive to do while avoiding work.

Rant, part 2.

See Rant #1 below for the angry, reactionary post. I have a few more thoughts.

It's easy to look at a defendant and think, they're guilty. And apparently, that's all they are, to anyone, ever. They are their crime. Once you sit down with these people, it's not difficult to see that they are people. They are smart, they are funny, they are angry, they are temperamental, they are demanding, they are friendly, they are compassionate, they tell jokes, they tell lies. They're worried about their kids and their family. They think about making their lives better.

For a lot of these people, rules just don't apply. Work hard and you will succeed. All men are created equal. If I can do it, you can do it. All of these things are easier said than done. Black children in Compton do not have the same opportunities as Donald Trump's children. People who grow up in poor, crime-ridden areas develop a different sense of community and a different sense of opportunity than do people who grow up in economically and physically safer environments. The rules of the game are different for different people.

For other people, the police have to knock before they enter a house. When I was discussing this with a community street law class, the participants were incredulous.
"What? Last week a whole SWAT team showed up around the corner and they had one of those big-ass pole things."
"Yeah! You saw that? They was bangin' right through the door. They ain't be knockin' first!"
"Knockin' with a telephone pole and they guns, maybe!"

Other people don't get randomly and baselessly searched.
"Man, every time the 5-0 come 'round the corner they do them jump-outs. Just cuz we teenagers. They ain't be sayin' that I'm free to leave. Get my ass shot if I start walkin' away."

I'm not a political reactionary. There are many PDs with whom I've brushed up against quite unpleasantly because of our differing politics. I didn't emerge from the womb as an anarchist. I've seen the individuals who find themselves in this crazy criminal system. There's a fine line between victim and defendant, and there are times when the line isn't clear. What reaches out, wraps around my soul and sucks me in is seeing that light, that positive energy that glows inside the person named in an indictment. I wish I could give you snapshots of moments with my clients. Every molecule in my body was energized when I was working this summer. My clients' smiles, their anguish, their laughter, their anger, their vanity (yo, Ms. WOTL, you know how to do locks?), their talent, their breathtaking insight into the world, their intellect, their compassion - There are some truly amazing human beings out there. And after you sit down and meet with them, and speak with them, and listen to them, it really burns you up that other people in the world aren't playing by the rules, and that your clients are getting stomped on day in and day out. Their stories deserve to be heard. Their voices deserve to be respected. They deserve better than what we're offering them.

WARNING: Rant to commence. Nothing rational will follow.

In a post over at Blonde Justice, a commenter points out to the public defenders that most of a PD's clients are guilty.

(gasp) No.

That doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that a purported lawyer states, "You're fooling yourselves if you think you're usually on the side of justice." Well well well. Apparently, somewhere in my crim pro class, my professor forgot to tell me that justice is for INNOCENT people. That must be one of those things hidden in an obscure amendment.

Blonde Justice is collecting bad prosecutor stories. Of all the blawgers out there, Blondie's one of the cheeriest and friendliest. She doesn't curse. She doesn't badmouth people. She discusses her clients, her food deliveryman, and prosecutors all with the same curious observation. She's not delusional.

I can appreciate that not everyone is cut out to do defense work, particularly criminal defense work, and even more specifically, indigent criminal defense work. I don't want everyone to be cut out for it, frankly. I happen to love it and thus believe that it is a job that requires nothing short of the most highly skilled, intellectual, and passionately committed individuals. I'd like to think that not just everyone can do it.

But to tell ME that I've lost perspective because my clients are GUILTY really boils my blood. When I worked for a public defender this summer, I didn't LOSE perspective, I GAINED it. I went into my PD internship uncertain of whether I wanted to do defense or prosecution. Actually, I was really leaning towards prosecution. Two weeks into my internship, I changed my mind and have never looked back - EVEN THOUGH I worked for a DA's office full-time this past fall. I've seen both sides, and I've made an informed decision.

I want you to sit down with a 14 year old minority male whose primary concern is the health of his grandmother, who's been locked up for 23 out of 24 hours every day, who gets beaten by the 20-something white male guards every time he goes to court, beaten so badly that he has to see the PRISON NURSE when he gets back. One time he asks the court guards what he ever did to them. "What did I ever do to get you so upset with me?" He pleaded with them, blood running down his ankles from their harsh steps on his shackles, head throbbing from being thrown headfirst into a concrete wall. They cackled in his face. "You're breathing, and that's enough," one says to him. Does the kid every tell anyone? No. Does he tell the judge? No. His attorney? No. The prison nurse? He doesn't have to tell her what happened. She knows when the court bus has returned. How do I even know it happened? I heard it from someone else who saw it happen and was remarking on how bad he felt for the poor kid. The 'littl uns,' my informant said sadly, don't understand yet that that's how things work. Those people hate you, he explained. They don't need a reason. You get used to it. Report it? "Why would I report it? Ain't nothin' gonna happen, and I'll jus' get my ass beat harder next time."

You tell him that he's on the wrong side of justice. Tell him that justice isn't for him. Tell him that justice is for the people he hurt by possessing marijuana. All those VICTIMS of his drug crime are the ones entitled to justice, right? Not him.

Is there a right side and wrong side of justice? My own idea of justice always seemed to be cohesive, round, all-encompassing. Guilty people should not be on the wrong side of justice. Guilty people have every right to justice as innocent people do.

Do you think prosecutors are fair and impartial? That they haven't lost their perspective? Or do they not need the same 'perspective adjustment' that defense attorneys need, by virtue of their place on the 'right' side of the law? What about cops? Do you think they're carrying around their pocket Constitution? Do you think they care whether they're respecting your Constitutional rights? I've worked with cops before - both as an ally / co-investigator, and in an adversarial position - and in both circumstances, I can tell you that the cops don't give a sweet fuck. Not all cops are bad people. But is what they do 'justice'? Jumping out and pinning kids against the ground, patting them down, looking for drugs? Cops do it every single day, and then it's the one kid who gets caught with drugs that has to try and argue that what the cops did was wrong. And your response to that is, "but he's guilty"? Cops lie. Prosecutors lie. Defendants lie.

My own take on what Blondie is doing, in her own corner of the world, is pointing out that we're all fallible. We're all human. We all err. We all lie, or stretch the truth. We do things that we probably shouldn't. There are bad apples and good apples. Cops and prosecutors are no different. But no one stops to take a second look at them, because they're on the right side of justice.

I dare you to spend one day in a juvenile correctional facility, and then tell that to one of my kids.

Goddamn I can't wait to get started.

Dahlia's scathing critique of the Congressional debacle surrounding the Terri Schiavo case. I couldn't agree more.

oh, and P.S.

WOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!

I'm going to be a public defender!

Just wanted to communicate the amount of celebrating I'm doing with my 'unofficial' offer. Let us not overlook my delirium.

Pondering

I love troubled, angry teenagers. It's my perception that not too many people enjoy working with angry, sullen, hormonal, troubled teenagers. It's also my perception that not many attorneys enjoy the additional challenges that go with having juvenile clients - they are even more needy than adult clients. I think that juvenile delinquents are an underserved population within an underserved population.

Most of the positions for which I've interviewed have been in regards to adult indigent defense. I very much enjoy working with indigent adults. However, I know that if I begin with adult work, I will eventually want to return to juvenile work.

So then. Am I an asshole for strongly considering taking a position as an adult defense attorney? Don't I owe it to the kiddos to work with them? I feel kinda guilty about it, and I'm also concerned that juvenile defenders won't want to later hire someone who has strayed.

Job update

I had a job interview yesterday that went well. I was told that while
they can't make official offers until the budget is finalized, that they
are definitely making me an offer. Whoot!

I might just be able to do what I want to spend the rest of my life doing!

Am I going to accept? Maybe. Am I stupid if I don't? Probably. The
only thing preventing me from sending flowers to this agency every week
with notes like, "I can't wait to start working for you!" and "You're so
pretty!" is the location. You see, I'm a cut-off jeans shorts, t-shirt,
and flip-flops kind of girl. My favorite thing to do in the whole wide
world is to sit on my front lawn in my lawnchair, drinking beer and
listening to the Allman Brothers. I love having BBQs. I love mosquito
candles. I like doing this in a relatively densely populated area. There
are some cities that are able to blend this well. I sense, however, that
this city is not one of them. I'd be completely willing to give it a
whirl for a year, maybe two. But like every other public defender, I have
to hand over a 3 year commitment. That's a long time to go on a
lawn-beer-BBQ hiatus.

Another great thing about this city is that most of my law school friends
will be there after graduation. When the firm lets them out of the
office, they will be able to buy me expensive dinners and drinks. More
importantly, they are very important people to me and I just know that if
we split to different locales, it's all over.

City #2, the only other option I'm pursuing at this time, seems a more
likely candidate for my preferred lifestyle (sounds so sordid, doesn't
it?) but the job opportunity is uncertain at best. However, if the job
came to fruition, it would be my all-time top dream job. How many people
get a shot at that? Additionally, I only know enough people to avoid
feeling lonely, and none of the people would necessarily be nearby (but
would be within an acceptable driving distance). That's both a pro and a
con for me. Another con - it brings me within close proximity (both
professionally and personally) with Mr. STF. That has potential for some
discomfort.

A pro for City #1 is that I can study for the bar in the house I live in
now, which gives me one more summer near the state parks and diving into
waterfalls, in addition to the BBQs and beers on my lawn.

It's a coin toss at this point. But I have nothing to accept or reject
(officially) yet, so I'm not going to worry. I'm going to pursue both
opportunities for now, and at some point, one will take themselves out of
the running.

You will be called to fill a position of high honor and responsibility

So says my fortune cookie.

I've tried, my friends, to post some interesting legal articles, updates on my job search, witty stories - but Blogger keeps eating them. Sorry about that. But in better news, I am DYING to see this: Red Sox on Queer Eye

Today's news

Study faults treatment of juvenile offenders.

MA court system plagued by delays.

And I was ridiculed and insulted by a woman at the gym this morning. Happy Monday!

Jurors with concealed pasts
The end of the article indicates that juror influences that would favor the prosecution are not being addressed. I have seen several cases in which juror misconduct has later been discovered, and in one case (a murder case) it turns out that one of the jurors neglected to report the fact that an immediate family member had been murdered.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified...

I've been sitting on my ass in front of the TV for two straight days, which is something I haven't done since I've been in law school. This is very liberating for me. I decided that I was going to whip up some butternut squash risotto for dinner, and around 5:30, I commenced dinner preparations still wearing my sweatpants and oversized t-shirt with a hole in it. By the time it was done, I had HALF AN HOUR to get ready for the annual law school bash. I am by no means high maintenance. But, if I'm wearing open toed shoes, then hells yeah I have to paint the toenails. The strapless bra itself requires a solid 15 minutes of buckling, turning around, pulling up, only to immediately sink again, only to have me pull it back up, ad nauseum, until I conceded defeat and threw on the top that I got from the junior's rack at a discount store that I'm still not sure I liked but wore to the event and got rave reviews for. Strapless shirt + strapless bra + gi-normous boobs = goddamn it when am I getting plastic surgery?

As I was whirling out the door in a frenzy, I realized I had missed 3 calls in the time that it took me to paint and dry (hair dryers are a girl's best friend) my toenails, throw on the evening face, party earrings and other appropriate accessories. Two were from law school friends. One was from... Mr. STF. I saw that I missed a call from him and I simultaneously thought, "I don't have the time for this!" "I look really hot tonight, clearly it's no coincidence that he called," and "This is cool. We haven't spoken on the phone since, like, October." So I was late, and frenzied, and when I was on my way to pick up a friend, I listened to my messages.

He called me from his pocket. Yup. I got a 2 minute long message of a lot of rustling, rummaging, and muffled singing.

The worst part of all was that I was SO HAPPY to see that he called, and when I realized that it wasn't a real phone call, I felt like such an ass for being so happy that he called.

I wanted to feel attractive tonight, and I did at first. I had a good time this evening. FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I had a song dedicated to me. By the band that performed it. I melted. I got a lot of compliments, which is always nice, since I'm generally convinced that I look like an ugly hag most of the time. Hung out with friends, got my groove thing on a bit. It was a very good time. I love my peeps, especially my girls. Despite my desire to flirt and maybe even kiss a guy, I came back home early and alone. There's an afterparty, all of my friends are there, and I'm sure it's a good time. But I had a good time, and I'd rather be in bed in time for my hot date with the gym tomorrow morning than to go to bed alone & disappointed tonight.

Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor!

I've tried many times to post, but Blogger kept eating my entries, and that really pissed me off. Besides, my life isn't too fascinating. I'm making a concerted effort to work less and socialize more. It's working out pretty well so far. I have an interview next Thursday for which I have to perform. I still have some residual performance anxiety from the Interview From Hell, so I haven't bothered to start preparing yet. I'm excited about the interview though. I'm still plugging away at the fellowship proposal, and I'm super excited about that. I started reading True Notebooks by Mark Salzman, which is an account of his experience teaching writing classes at a juvenile correctional facility in LA. Just reading it brought back floods of memories of my experiences working with incarcerated juveniles and got me really excited to one day be a lawyer for those kids. The first two pages (which you can read on Amazon.com) have a very amusing dialogue regarding Mr. Rogers that concludes with this line: "Homies be like, 'It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood - now gimme that train set, fool."

Currently listening to: Thievery Corporation, "The Cosmic Game" and Juanes, "Mi Sangre." I'm not sure that I like the Juanes album yet, but I do like Thievery Corporation's new album.

See? I told you.

EVERYONE IS GETTING HIRED except me. Still no change on the job front. Have a few places that absolutely refuse to call me back. I'm in interview limbo. Will I make it to the next round? Have I already NOT made it to the last round and you forgot to tell me? There's one place I'm actually tentatively scheduled to do the same interview with on two different days next week, depending on the availability of attorneys. Well, I still haven't heard what day it's going to be yet.

And then there's this other public defender's office, that was all up in my shit, and then at the last minute said, oh, you'll have to wait until late spring, that's when we do most of our hiring, and I said ok. And then summer coworker RECEIVED and REJECTED a job offer with them, like, months ago. And they have not responded to my recent letter reaffirming my interest in their office. Don't play like you don't want me, mofos.

And then there's this dreeeeeeamy fellowship that looks like it would be great, except hard, and I don't know what the hell will happen with that. I'm still trying to work out the proposal itself. Uphill battle.

P.S. Rejecting me for a job, but telling me that you're going to keep my resume in case a position opens up, is like being the guy who only hooks up with me when he's drunk.

Today's news

From the very little that I know of this matter, I'd say this is an example of where the death penalty goes wrong: Death sentence to be sought for killing aboard prison bus.

The Devil Wears Pinstripes: an article on Yankees fans and Sox fans.

Young father juggles high school, responsibilities.

I wonder what Ronald Reagan thought, if anything, of Jelly Bellies.

I wonder if he knew that they are so tasty, you can eat half a pound of them and not realize it until your stomach starts hurting REALLY BADLY.

That's like a full work day.

Last night, I went out for a brief happy hour pit-stop on my way home from the law school. I figured, a slice, a brew, and then two episodes of the O.C. Sweet. Well, a slice turned into two, a beer turned into 8 pitchers, and 6 p.m. suddenly became 2 a.m. No O.C. to be had (I was advised that it was a repeat. This best be true). After the rest of the law school dispersed in time for the O.C., an unlikely foursome remained, rocking into the wee hours of the morning. The fifth member came at the very end of the night. When we were considering whether or not to get that ONE LAST PITCHER at last call, in response to my comment that we had been there since 6, the fifth member said, "Damn. 7 and a half hours? That's like a full work day. Except no lunch break." Gosh, when you put it that way, it's almost shameful. The night just flew by. I remember laughing a lot. That sure was nice.

The Human Mating Ritual

I went to the coffee shop to do some terribly boring reading and to drink more tea. It's actually more essential that I hold the tea to my face, thus clearing my sinuses, than it is to actually consume it. I sat at a booth because it wasn't very crowded. Eventually the few tables filled up, and a young man asked if he could sit with me. It's not an uncommon request, and of course I agreed.

For the next half hour or so, I glanced up to get a peek at his face. What he was reading. At his cast. What did his sweatshirt say? Grad student? I'm guessing undergrad. And he not so subtley did the same. What I was reading. Where I was looking. Eventually he closed his book and muttered something, so I looked up, smiled, and asked, "Interesting reading?" The title included the word Optimal and the reading material looked like calculus. Lots of charts and swirls and points. We chatted for a while. He was cute, friendly. He talked about what he was reading. An old book from the book sale. He does satellite something or other. Engineering department. He explained in simple terms, using the objects on our shared table, what the optimal something or other meant. Then he started talking about cockroaches and an experiment. At this point my interest waned. He laughed at the wrong times. He talked a lot about himself and what he was into, in response to a few questions from me. I stopped asking questions but he didn't ask any in return. He didn't introduce himself. He did mention that he observed how intently I was studying my reading. It was not interesting, I assured him. It just takes so much mental energy to read it. He laughed, said I seemed impervious to the music blaring from the speakers.

Then he packed up, wished me luck on Mather's article (how could he see that? I could barely read it) and left.

I like making new friends. But I was puzzled. Why not a name? Shouldn't he have asked me for my name? Maybe my number? Not necessarily, I suppose. Sigh. Is this what the beginning of dating rituals look like? Perhaps the next ritual will be more successful.

Take Two Tablets: Dahlia on the Ten Commandment arguments.

Law firms question Gen Y work ethic

Pot? This is kettle. William Saletan's article on how Scalia, while attacking his brethren for flip-flopping on issues of the maturity of minors, manages to disregard his own flip-flopping on the issue.

tickles me

Today I read an article that used the term 'vegetable sexuality.'

I'll take another

I've contracted the School Death Virus, plus I'm menstruating, I'm incredibly groggy, and I have a terrible sore throat. Which means that I all at once need coffee, tea, sudafed, throat lozenges, kleenex, tampons, and ibuprofen. Throw in my unemployment psychosis, and I'm a bona fide mess.

SUPREME COURT STRIKES DOWN JUVENILE DEATH PENALTY

Rock the fuck ON. If you're going to have a crazy constitutional standard like "evolving standards of decency" thank you for applying it correctly.

Kennedy wrote the majority opinion.
Stevens's concurrence
O'Connor's dissent
Scalia's dissent

Yahoo article:
In a dissent, Scalia decried the decision, arguing that there has been no clear trend of declining juvenile executions to justify a growing consensus against the practice.
"The court says in so many words that what our people's laws say about the issue does not, in the last analysis, matter: 'In the end our own judgment will be brought to bear on the question of the acceptability of the death penalty,' he wrote in a 24-page dissent.
"The court thus proclaims itself sole arbiter of our nation's moral standards," Scalia wrote.

EDIT: Dahlia's take on it

For better or for worse, buddy, that's what you got goin' on.

In other news, A Spotty Record of Health Care at Juvenile Facilities in NY - another article on Prison Health Services and their treatment of incarcerated individuals.

I really love the kiddos. Really really love them.