Winter makes me angry.

I woke up this morning to about 2 inches of snow. Aww, isn't that cute? NO. Because every time it snows, my car doors freeze shut, the locks freeze, and my car won't move so much as an inch without snow tires. Additionally, it seemed to pick up a new habit last week, which involves the car refusing to steer when it's cold out. Per my internet diagnosis, it seems as though it might be a valve in the steering rack that is sticking shut. Now, that doesn't sound cheap, does it? The most frustrating part of all of this is that I was supposed to be on my way home to get my car inspected, since it's a month overdue. But I can't even get into my car, and even if I could, it certainly wouldn't be safe for me to drive it if there's snow on the ground. I'm pretty much stuck at home for the day. And I'm really, really pissed.

As far as yesterday's exam - well, the 45 minutes it took to help some of my fellow test takers fill in the name and address bubblesheet indicates that the curve will help. I didn't have a watch, so I didn't realize that it only took me an hour to finish the test until after I left the testing room. So, I could be an idiot, I suppose, and have accidentally skipped most of the exam, or perhaps I just got every answer wrong. But, I couldn't quite bring myself to care. It pained me to write in the code of the state for which I'm currently slated to sit. I had a powerful urge to put in "Maryland" but they don't even require the MPRE, so sending my scores there is useless anyway.

MPRE - induced ramblings

Having today off, I decided it would be as good a time as any to try and comport my ethics to those of, um, whoever creates this evil test. I woke up a little later than usual, but was still at the gym early, came home and had a healthy breakfast, and proceeded to the coffeeshop to settle in. I figured I had this down. After taking my first practice test, in which I answered 31 of 50 questions correctly, I realized I was doomed to fail. I panicked. Then ate a late lunch. Then took another practice test, this time scoring 39 of 50 correctly. Panicked. Called a friend who assured me that was sufficient to receive a score of over 100 (I just need an 85 to get into the states that I need to get into). On a brighter note, Maryland doesn't require it. So there's that.

What have I learned from studying for this? Well, I learned that my fellow attorneys don't have to rat me out to the bar if I solicit hookers, possess marijuana, or drive under the influence. Even if I'm charged and convicted, I'll be a-ok. However, if I fudge my tax form or deposit my own money in my client's account, I will be disbarred and will go directly to lawyer hell when I die. That's the deepest level of hell, I think. I've also learned that no one knows what to do if you, as a criminal defense lawyer, have reason to suspect (or even know) that your client is going to lie on the stand. Every lawyer I've asked has answered me differently (I have to say, though, that I did enjoy hearing all the responses from actual practitioners, and will be sure to use each technique), and even the study guide has two different answers. Why? I think it has a lot to do with the fact that people get squeamish when confronted with the realities of our legal system. No one wants to hear that truth has no place in the courtroom. I am still convinced, however, that Justice would make a great tattoo.

I was feeling cute (albeit unethical) this morning, as indicated by the fact that I wore something other than sweatpants, and it's not even a workday! The first thing I did when I arrived to study - I dripped coffee down the front of my newly rediscovered shirt. I have a coffee curse. I thought it was limited to the coffee shop across the street from my law school. The lid doesn't seal on the cup, so it drips large amounts on one's shirt, unbeknownst to this adorably unethical law student. My coffee cup issues led to my invention of the 'coffee diaper.' The coffee diaper consists of an unsightly wad of napkins wrapped around the area where the lid meets the cup. The coffeeshop across the from the law school requires an inordinate amount of napkins. I had become far too cozy with lids that seal, because I haven't used the coffee diaper in months. I have huge coffee stains in inappropriate locations now. I, nevertheless, refused to change my shirt or retreat from public view.

After cheerfully succumbing to an utter lack of standardized-testable ethics, I went shopping for number 2 pencils and a new hip-hop CD. 25 year old white girl wearing a J. Crew coat, a coffee-stained Gap shirt, and Old Navy jeans marched right into the CD store and pondered the advantages of Nelly's "Sweat" vs. "Suit." The very hip multi-racial teenager behind the counter, responding to my comment that Nelly's "Suit" was recommended to me for my new workout CD, advised me that the CD would be best appropriate for making out with my man. Given the lack of man, I put it back on the shelf. She then led me to Twista, who I have to say, is pretty catchy. But Ja Rule has a new one, and Mase has a new CD and is allegedly sober. Any hints? I'm trying to pick between Mase, Twista, and Nelly's "Suit" (despite the advice from the much-cooler-than-me girl). I heart you, Kanye West, but I've had you for almost a year. I never buy CDs, but I have a gift certificate, and my adorable clients made fun of me incessantly for never listening to anything more than what's on the radio.

Colombia's army chief claims advances against rebels
I'd write more about why I care, but I think I'm going to bed now. We'll chat later.

Ignorance: Does it equal bliss or the downfall of a country now in ill-repute with the rest of the civilized world?

This article on Slate, entitled "Loyal to a Fault," demonstrates that 1. Bush wants people who are going to tell him what he wants to hear (think back to the reasons for invading Afghanistan AND Iraq) and 2. Gonzales is one person who will do just that.

Dahlia!

The Supreme Court wrestles with Canada and drug dogs.

Baltimore Sun: Sentence reduced for abused woman
Washington Post: Judge Frees Woman in Death of Horrible Man

High Achievers Leaving Schools Behind: an article on the effects of "No Child Left Behind"

In the news today.

Ashcroft resigns
The best question I received in an interview two weeks ago: "If you were going to a criminal law related Halloween party, what is the scariest thing you would dress as, and why?" I said Ashcroft.

Pharmacists refuse to give out birth control pill (One even refused to hand the woman her prescription back, and refused to refer her to another pharmacy.)

Death penalty review sought
In a case being closely watched by both sides in the death penalty debate, the
Maryland attorney general is asking the state's highest court to erase an Anne
Arundel County ruling that would force prosecutors to say whether they intend to seek the death penalty when they bring an indictment.

US women imprisoned in record numbers

Ugh.

I really can't shake the blues. Today, it was so beautiful outside that I decided I should bring my work outside for the afternoon. That didn't work out - I couldn't find parking and ended up in a parking garage that charges $7 per half hour. This made me very unhappy. I decided I was going to get my gourmet cafe mocha and sit outside anyway, damnit. So I did. Still feeling really down in the dumps, and still generally unhappy, I finished my drink and slinked back to my car. As I was walking to the garage, a middle-aged African American man said to me, "Don't look down. Look up." I looked at him and smiled. He winked back and I kept walking. I wanted to stop and turn around, and hug him. I wanted to say, "Thank you for noticing me. Thank you for caring. Thank you for not being cold and indifferent." But I couldn't bring myself to turn around and say it, and instead I cried. All the way back to my car and back home. Then I cried two more times when I thought about it.

On a rather emotionless note, I forgot to include this link last week: New juries must weigh sentence in capital case

Back to MPRE studying. I just realized that I have a lot to learn before Friday morning.

Treading water.

Last night, I reluctantly dolled up and went attended a swanky wine and cheese gathering at my friend's house. I figured that I would know most of the people there, and figured that I wouldn't have much to say to them, and wanted to avoid the acquaintance that I [thought I] hit it off with a while back but who never called. The party was very nice, and after uncomfortably dodging said former acquaintance for a while, we ended up chatting nicely throughout the evening. Met a few other very nice people, drank wonderful wine, munched on very fancy appetizers, and was doing ok. The calm evening came to a screeching halt when I inadvertently outed a friend of mine to his coworker. Completely, unintentionally kicked his ass out of the closet. Having nothing further to say to anyone present, and figuring I had done enough damage for the night, I left. I was the first person to leave.

I was cornered several times by a friend asking what was wrong, was I tired? Bored from enduring an MPRE review all day? None of the above. Just bored and wholly uninspired. I'm not growing as a person, I'm not being challenged, I'm not really meeting too many new people, or having too many new experiences. That's not necessarily a reason to be frustrated. What frustrates me is that I have things I want to accomplish in the course of my life, and nothing I am doing right now is bringing me any closer to accomplishing them. I want to be a public defender, I want to work with youth, I want to have an apartment with my own furniture in it, I want to see places I've never seen before, I want to meet new people interested in similar things, I want to meet guy who is really into me, who knows my favorite foods/shows/books/stories and can use that knowledge appropriately, who tells me I'm beautiful and means it, and who is doing something that inspires him. I wake up every morning, go to work, work alone all day, go home, see the same one or two friends every single day, then go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. So, for parties like last night, I do a cost-benefit analysis. Is it worth turning off "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion" to get out of my sweatpants, do my hair, apply accessories, coordinate an outfit, and put on a lot of mascara and makeup, to later have to come home and remove all of these items? Is the social event worth the energy? And last night, I was breaking even. Throughout the night I was having an enjoyable enough time that I didn't feel compelled to leave, having applied so much makeup, but didn't feel particularly compelled to stay, either. After my social faux pas, that tipped the scales in favor of a hasty departure.

My response to this has been to just stop trying, which is acceptable to me at this point. I've read several books in the past few weeks and have completely fallen in love with Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I'll always have the sweet reliability of paperback fiction.

I'm ready to go.

I received a wonderful voicemail from my former 1L crush last night. This morning, I woke up to a voicemail from him and my bestest friend and roommate from the law school semiformal. sigh. The semiformal is always such wonderful, silly, drunken debauchery. I missed it. I miss them.

It's only been one day, and here we are...

already Yahoo news is giving me the following headlines from hell:
Bush pledges to make changes to the tax code
"Contending Americans have embraced his conservative agenda, President Bush pledged Thursday to aggressively pursue major changes in Social Security, the tax code and medical malpractice awards, working with Democrats if they are receptive and leaving them behind if they're not. "I earned capital in the campaign, political capital, and now I intend to spend it," Bush said a day after a decisive victory that made him the first president in 68 years to win re-election and gain seats in both the House and Senate."
"He took congratulatory calls from world leaders from Russia, Poland, Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel and Italy before flying to Camp David for four days of rest after the grueling campaign."
"He is expected to ask Congress early next year for up to $75 billion for Iraq, Afghanistan and operations against terrorism...The president was unapologetic about the unpopularity of his decisions in many world capitals, such as his commitment to spread democracy in the Middle East. "

Wal-Mart opens store near Mexico pyramids

Laura Bush to get new puppy for birthday

Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. I can't believe that having 51% of the country voting for you (let's be honest, that's not up too many percentage points from the last election he 'won') signals that the country is behind you. For either Kerry or Bush, a 51/49 victory doesn't imply anything more than the fact that it is clear that neither candidate represents its constituents well. For either of them, they're alienating half the country. It's like a game of "Would You Rather" - "Would you rather have wheels for legs or sneeze confetti?" "Would you rather have sex with Cindy Crawford with no arms or legs, or Rush Limbaugh?" Please.

HILLARY CLINTON IN 2008!!!

Election: Pro and Con

Pro: Dallas elects Latina lesbian as sheriff (but she'd best not dare ask to get married.)

Con: The Onion says it best, with headlines such as, "God Puts His Tool Back in Office" and "MoveOn Curls Up In Corner"

Voting update

I managed to cast my vote just fine. I did run into some familiar faces, and some familiar names, while returning to my hometown to vote. That's a brief tale for another time.

Right now, Bush is looking like he's got the lead on this. Looking at the color coded map, it's odd to think that Bush has only a slight lead - because most of the country is colored red. Just a few blue spots for Dem victories - and yet it remains so close. (Then there are all those state governor and U.S. Senate elections that seem to be swaying in favor of Republicans - let us not overlook the fact that the man just elected to the Senate by South Carolina to replace a Democrat is the same man who doesn't think that unmarried pregnant women should be schoolteachers, and is in favor of a national sales tax.) I hope I hope I hope this is like a Red Sox game that goes REALLY late and then Ortiz suddenly hits a walk-off homerun. Kerry needs a walk-off home run. The only good thing that can come from a Bush victory is Hillary Clinton's victory in 2008. I've got your back, girlfriend.

Voting Debacle.

I woke up this morning with a raging head cold (AGAIN!?!?) and I am now high as a kite on Sudafed.

Currently, my car is not registered or inspected. Last Thursday, I was sitting in a hotel room far away, in someone else's suit, trying to figure out how I was going to let American Airlines know that not only had I still not received my luggage, but that they had dropped off someone else's luggage, which was impossible to rectify because they only give you an automated number of a computer voice telling you where your luggage is, and my cell phone was about to die, because the charger was in my luggage.

At that time, I received a phone call in regards to a problem with my car registration from many states away. I did not take the call for the aforementioned reasons. Well, yesterday I called, and found out that I have an outstanding parking ticket. So they won't mail my registration. I assured them that I had taken care of the ticket. Turns out, I paid the $65 out of state ticket, but I had an in-state parking ticket (only $20) outstanding. Rats. The woman at City Hall gets all worried and frantic, advising me that my tags had expired and I need to be there because I'm now driving illegally. I tell her that I cannot get there, because I am out of state.

Today, I decided to leave work early (after just taking two days off, and having to take off 4 more days in the next two weeks) so I could head back home, vote, take care of the ticket, register and inspect my car. But oh! City Hall is closed because it is Election Day. And my mechanic said that he cannot inspect my car without a legal registration. He was very adamant as well that I should hope I don't get pulled over, because I'm driving illegally.

Now this starts to ring a bell - and from my legal research here at the DA's office, I know that if I were to get pulled over for driving an unregistered car, the least of my problems would be the fact that they would impound my car. Then I started freaking out - I had left work early, I couldn't do ANYTHING about my car, and I had no way to get home to vote. Do I drive home, risking arrest and the loss of my car, just to vote in my swing state? Or do I stay home for the afternoon, doing nothing but stew over the fact that I did not cast a vote in the election in my swing state because I paid the wrong parking ticket and I hate the people at City Hall?

Luckily, a dear friend of mine is heading up there this afternoon to vote and has kindly agreed to allow me to go with him.

Whew.

Next entry: What problems arise from trying to cast my vote. (I'm looking forward to seeing what else could possibly go wrong. Stay tuned.)

Vote Someone Else for President.

Dahlia's HILARIOUS article on how to File Your Own Election Lawsuit.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I am 2 hours into my first night back at home, sans baseball, and I don't have a blessed thing to do. I've finished three books in the past two weeks. I have no more. I don't want to write these thank-you letters from last week's interviews. The laundry's in the washing machine. I refuse to put any more energy into this city - it's given me nothing on prior energy investments. So. What to do next? Any suggestions for books? Hobbies to pick up?

He's Just Not That Into You

This book, apparently, has unleashed a revolution. I've heard it referenced twice this week. Born from a Sex and the City episode, it turned into "The Rules" for the 2004 single woman. One friend described it as a "tough love" book for women - if he doesn't call, it's not because he's been working late, or is always busy or tired. He's just not that into you. If he doesn't make plans for the weekend by Wednesday, it's not because he's not a 'planner.' He's just not that into you.

I can imagine that there are men out there who think this is ridiculously simple, and are appalled that it took a book to communicate these things. To you men, I say - perhaps you were just getting too much credit all along.

Excerpt

I'm baaaack.

Quick rundown:
1. on a plane while the Sox were winning the World Series
2. got off plane during the 7th inning to discover that my luggage, with my suits necessary for the next day's interviews, was missing
3. incredibly fortunate enough to borrow a suit from a friend in the same hotel, same size as me, with a complete extra suit, pantyhose, and shoes
4. saw and fell in love with all over again, all of my friends from the summer
5. remembered why I loved being in that city
6. remembered why I didn't like being in that city
7. remembered how well Mr. Maybe and I got along, and wondered how it is that we are no longer capable of speaking to each other
8. got drunk. deleted Mr. Maybe's phone number
9. was proposed to by a panhandler
10. left it all behind for what may be the last time. It felt good though. I had a great summer there, a fantastic 13 weeks. I came, I saw, I conquered. It's the past. going back won't resurrect it. My job is over, my friends have scattered. A chapter closed.

Tired.

Today's articles

Who Slate is voting for and comments:

There is a vitally important conversation to be had in this country, about
balancing security against freedom. That conversation has happened in the
courts, in the media, and in the academy. But it has never interested this
president at all, who seems to be increasingly of the view that any
freedoms—of speech, protest, or due process, make everyone less safe.

On Kerry: He's a long way from being the Messiah, but at least he's not the
anti-Christ.

Dahlia's very good analysis of why the Supreme Court won't touch another presidential election

Cards have Sox in dangerous position

NY Times article on court decision that limits child welfare agency's ability to remove children who live in households with domestic violence.

And let's not forget that the Sox are playing the potentially World-Series-winning game tonight, during a full moon lunar eclipse, after having made a comeback in the ALCS, down 0-3, which no other team has ever done. Forecast tonight: Hell freezes over.

I, unfortunately, will be on a plane during the game and will have no idea what's going on.

See y'all on Monday.

Gasp. What if...

... the Sox take the first three from the Cards and then the rest of the series occurs a la the 2004 ALCS? Shudder.

I found this cute note in a Massachusetts state case today.
"The Commonwealth has informed is not only that it disagrees with the trial judge's "ultimate determinations" but also that it "takes umbrage with" them. The appellate process, of course, benefits from the sound legal analysis the parties tender to the court and to each other. Bulletins about a ruling's impact on a party's mental tranquility, however, play no useful role in that process."
Commonwealth v. LeClair, 55 Mass. App. Ct. 238, 242 n.8

Links that I just HAD to read and pass along, from How Appealing
Texas Judge Has Party, Sentences Fugitive
Transcript of Roper v. Simmons oral arguments
DC Circuit court opinion admonishing a district court judge for not applying the sentencing guidelines. I heart you, sentencing judge. Excellent decisions and concerns.
Twelve year old searched, arrested, cuffed, thrown into custody for eating A french fry in the Metro station.

Today's articles

Oak Hill Detention Center's future is uncertain
Faced with a Nov. 15 deadline to submit a plan to save Oak Hill Youth Center in Laurel, District of Columbia officials say they are working feverishly to improve conditions at the troubled juvenile detention facility and avert its shutdown.

Red Sox Star Keeps Bit of His Past in Present

Judges who kill and judges who don't. From How Appealing

Articles

Coalition to target drug policies

Those ladies wearing purple with red hats

A Prince George's County judge yesterday signed a death warrant for a convicted murderer from Capitol Heights, making him the second man scheduled to be executed in Maryland this year.

Verbal judo as a technique for law enforcement

Yesterday.

My interview was wretched. I'm still collecting my limbs.

I don't think I did HORRIBLY, but I didn't do well, and they weren't impressed. When they (all 8 of them) were asking me questions about what I did with the capital trial clinic, I was explaining the motions etc that I wrote for the clinic, and I got questions like, "Which rule is it that..." What? I have to know the NUMBERS of the Rules now? And then I mentioned that the Federal Rules of Evidence are flexible in the sentencing phase, and then I was asked, "under what principle?" Dunno, dude. Profs told me to do it. I did it. I just know they're flexible. Sorry. I was too busy trying to keep the evidence out. I was trying to explain the series of events that led to the charges, but the case is INCREDIBLY complex - it took an entire semester of poring over discovery materials and sitting through a week of the trial before I really understood the theory of how this all unfolded. So trying to explain it in a sentence was really hard. And one woman impatiently asked, "Did he COMMIT any CRIMES then?" Well, he entered a guilty plea on guilt/innocence. Sure he did. But no one really knows what happened, and we pointed the finger at the co-defendant. So.

Then, after I gave my opening statement (which, P.S. I had to give myself a crash course in, because I haven't taken trial ad and don't know how to do them) I had one guy ask me to just state one paragraph of the facts as though I were speaking to him over a beer. Then I did. And he said, No, I mean, if you were an all-knowing being and you saw what happened between the defendant and the complainant, how would you describe it? So I described it. And he said thank you. Shit. At least they were polite.

And of course, I was asked a series of questions about "How would you feel about standing next to a child rapist?" "Why do you want to represent THESE people?" And I guess I didn't answer it right. Because they kept asking me in different ways. What do you mean, how do I feel? I'm glad that I get to stand next to someone who has been victimized their entire life and be a good resource and advocate for them. These people are not the worst things they've ever done. They deserve not to be overwhelmed by all the resources stacked up against them. STOP ASKING ME THAT QUESTION OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Dude, I have $150k in debt, I'm begging you to hire me for something to the tune of $30k a year even though you threatened to send me back to that rural town that I was sent to work in against my will as a social worker, I'm not applying anywhere except public defenders, I've committed my life to working for indigent people, this is not just a fad. Why? Damned if I know. It's just RIGHT. I love it. I love my clients, I love the work, I love feeling like I can make something WORK for them for once. I can't explain any better than that. Sorry.

And then I didn't answer correctly about how to keep out a statement in the fact pattern. I really had no idea. I'm not stupid, but I was just not spotting the issue they were getting at. Then I cobbled together a 5th Amendment argument. But that was clearly not what the guy was hinting at. And there was silence in the room.

Sigh. Well, we can count that one out. It felt really yucky when I left. Especially since I had been sitting in one isolation room for an hour that was almost 100 degrees. Then the room in which I faced 8 people was just as hot and I was interrogated for an hour. Duress! Coercion! Sheeee-it.

I guess it's good that I had such a difficult one first. There's no way to go but up.

Oh yeah- GO SOX! WOOHOO!

And I said no.

A friend called me today. She has an extra ticket to the game tonight. Offered it to me.

And I said no. If it weren't for this goddamn interview I have tomorrow, I'd be there in a heartbeat. I just couldn't justify the traveling. Even my boss suggested that I go.

I am so devastated. Of all the things to be offered, and rejected - a ticket to Game 6 of the ALCS. I'm ashamed.

Today's articles

A Free Man With Friends in High Places

City Adapts Police Strategy to Violent Schools

''I don't think they know the mess they're creating in our state," said Edward Naile, head of the Coalition of New Hampshire Taxpayers, which plans to challenge students' residency claims. ''They think 'Oh, my vote's not going to mean anything for . . . Ted Kennedy in Massachusetts; I'll go spend my vote in New Hampshire.' Then I'm stuck with a bunch of left-wing whack jobs from the colleges." On students' eligibility to vote

Jury convicts man in slaying of teen and unborn baby

Wakefield rocks my world.

5 hours of baseball...

Womanofthelaw's Vital Stats for October 18, 2004:
Resumes sent: 13
Interviews scheduled: 6
Glasses of wine: 2
Number of times my computer at work has been taken away from my office, just leaving a monitor, keyboard, and mouse behind and leaving me with no workstation: 2
CDs purchased to diffuse anger at stupid internship: 2 (Come now. Huey Lewis and the News cures everything when purchased in conjunction with the Allman Brothers Greatest Hits and a venti cafe mocha).

I'm a big fan of brunch. I've been experimenting with other Sunday brunch places recently, figuring I could become an expert on brunch in this city. Today, however, I returned to the very popular diner that's just a few blocks away from me, a place that I've been to many times over the past few years. It is the best goddamn brunch ever (large servings, very good food) and it's cheap, and the diner's theme is just awesome. Not cheesy like Denny's or anything. It's just not worth going anywhere else, really. Perfection was right there all along.

I babysat last night and tonight. Tonight went less smoothly. I'm downing more cheap shiraz, watching the Sox with one hand over my eyes, telling myself that I should be in bed to be alive tomorrow. Oh well. It's only Oct playoffs for the Sox once, right? Oh no, it's not. They falter here EVERY YEAR.

Go Pats.

Womanofthelaw's Vital Stats for Oct 17, 2004:
Glass of wine: One (ok, one REALLY full one)
Book: "One Hundred Years of Solitude" - I had given it up, but since I only have a few chapters left, I should really finish it... and it's totally sucked me back in
Things Eaten That Will Kill Me, or At Least My Dreams of Being a Supermodel: Brunch this morning - two scrambled eggs, two piece of french toast, one piece of ham, homefries, and a bottomless cup of coffee. I'm still full.
Karma Points: 5. Yesterday I went grocery shopping and a charming young man was selling candy bars outside the grocery store. People kept walking by, ignoring him as though he were begging for change. I decided, as I approached, that I'd buy the $1 candybars. He was adorable - looked about ten years old, and was wearing a jacket except with the jacket over his head - so his arms were sticking straight out of his sides. Heh. As I walked up, he said quickly, "Wouldyouliketobuycandytohelppreventteensfromsmokinganddrinking?" I said sure, what are you selling? And it wasn't even candy bars - it was boxes of crappy candy. "Turtles" - peanuts and caramel covered in chocolate. Ugh. I hate them. But I said sure, I'll support your fundraiser. How much will they be? To which he responded with a grin, "$5 but the smile is free." I wanted to choke when he said $5, but come now. The smile was free. ADORABLE. So I bought them. And of course have eaten half of them. Which leaves about 3 left. But at least I can know that teens are NOT smoking and drinking because I'm eating candy that I hate and paid my week's worth of groceries for.

How in the world can anyone believe that we should be executing people under these circumstances?

That is the question asked in a letter sent to the NC State Bar regarding prosecutorial misconduct that resulted in a death sentence, which was later overturned, and the defendant was later found not guilty on retrial. From I Respectfully Dissent.

Um. Go Pats.

Belichick for Red Sox Manager. He'd whip 'em into shape real fast.

It hurts my soul.

Dear Red Sox:

There are no words to explain.

I know I've said over and over that I believed last year was a better year than this year for an ALCS title, but I didn't expect that you'd roll over and play dead so soon.

You didn't really believe that you were going to be able to do it. So you didn't.

I don't even know why I still have the game on.

Shiraz and New You's Resolutions.

On the CD player: Soundtrack to "Duets" crooning from my loft bedroom of the apartment. On deck: Soundtrack to "Sliding Doors." Couple that with the shiraz and the sweatpants that feel like home while making my ass look cute, and there's no doubt that tonight, we're having A Night. One of those Nights that require some introspection, maybe a laugh and a cry, painting toenails, reading a book, re-evaluating where I am and where I am going, and who and what is important.

Consumed:
One piece of banana-chocolate bread
Two hot dogs, complemented with a glass of Yellow Tail shiraz
Half a piece of light white American cheese

I shared the other half of that piece of cheese with Fernando. Fernando is the downstairs' neighbor's cat, a beautiful and very friendly cat that has taken quite a liking to me. He was dubbed "Fernando" by my dear friend who helped me move in. He doesn't have tags, so we had to make up a name. Fernando's given name is "Thug's Life" and is actually a female. I could call her "Fern" for short. But that's a stupid name for a cat. As is Thug's Life. So she remains Fernando. She sneaks in behind me when I come in the house. She's snuck in my third story window before as well. I would love to let her come hang out inside with me, and would totally take her as my own, if 1. I didn't have roommates and 2. she didn't belong to the landlord's son. So, Fernando and I continue to conduct our illicit affair, and today when I kicked her back outside in the rain, I wooed her with cheese. Hope she isn't lactose intolerant.

this Night is brought to you courtesy of Mr. Maybe.
Dear Mr. Maybe:
Thank you for finally responding to my emails, particularly my question as to whether you still wanted me to stay with you. I'm sorry to hear that since we last discussed the issue, you believe you will be out of town for my visit at the end of the month. I appreciate your suggestion that we meet for a drink if you do, however, find yourself in town. To that, I say: Not likely, asshole. Thank you for not revealing your shallow, self-centered, social-climbing aims earlier. I will be sure to call you the next time I need you to further my own aims, as you have so kindly done for me.
Sincerely, (not a word you recognize? Ok, then we'll try)
Fuck off,
Womanofthelaw

Resolutions aren't just for New Year's anymore. Every once in a while, we find ourselves in the position to re-evaluate. These positions generally arise from an event that changes the cadence of one's day, when one finds oneself lacking the desire to drown one's sorrows in the company and wine of others, and has some down time to sit in The Sweatpants nursing a bottle of cheap shiraz while mowing down some hot dogs. One of the great things about New You's is that they are things that have needed some work for a while - sanding down some rough spots, patching up some chipped off parts - but suddenly, the energy to fully commit oneself to these changes comes around via some catalyst, and so after a frenzied mental, spiritual, social, physical, and frequently literal housecleaning, the piece that just chipped off or the rough edge that seemed to develop are resolved, or accepted, or covered with a doily.

With one distraction down, I'm left with just a few very time-consuming distractions. First, the Red Sox. The agony of playoffs is here. Additionally, I have no idea what to do with my time apres c'est finit (finis?). Secondly, (this will probably edge to first after the Red Sox are finished, which could be any day now) I need to get myself employed.** Thirdly, I need to continue working on my health. Healthy eating, re-structuring my workout, drinking more water, flossing, getting regular haircuts and manicures. Fourth, I will read more books. Fifth, I will take better care of my car and my debt.

** I got another interview today!

Womanofthelaw's Vital Stats for October 15, 2004:
13 Resumes sent total
4 interviews scheduled
0 books read

Oh no. This Night may have just been derailed. I'm being told that friends are going out. But they do not like the Red Sox, and the game is on in 45 minutes. I will shuffle over with my wine and sweatpants. if the plans suit me, I will go. If they don't, then I don't.

Update: went out. regretted it. walked back home in the rain.

So angry.

I don't even know how to express it all in words. And it's probably best that I don't. So I'll leave it at this - I've made my last phone call, text message, email to Mr. Maybe. There's nothing worse than feeling duped.

Juvenile Executions

See this post - Juvenile executions - not ruled out? - for some feedback on today's arguments in Roper v. Simmons, in which the Supreme Court is reconsidering executing people for crimes they committed before they were adults. I think it's interesting that Justice Kennedy (a crucial vote) seemed to be really concerned with the brief by 6 states that permit such executions, in which gory murders were recounted.

SCOTUSBlog quotes : "“There is no principled basis,” the brief says, “for concluding that 16 and 17-year-old murderers, as a class, are categorically incapable of acting with a degree of moral culpability deserving of society’s severest punishment….A teenager who plots like an adult, kills like an adult, and covers up like an adult should be held responsible for his choices like an adult.”
Kennedy offered the brief as a counterpoint to a scientific argument relied upon heavily by Washington attorney Seth P. Waxman, who represents a juvenile, Christopher Simmons, who was sentenced to die in Missouri for a murder he committed at age 17 years and five months. Relying upon scientific findings, Waxman told the Court that “it is impossible to know whether a crime committed by a 16 or 17-year-old was a reflection of a true, enduring character, or a manifestation of the traits of a juvenile….No psychiatrist and no jury can say with confidence that a crime [committed by a juvenile] was due to an enduring quality or a transitory trait.”"

The Justices have to consider the constitutionality of executing for juvenile crimes. Luckily, the standard is based on the evolving standards of society, so they can pretty much find any outcome they want. I think that Kennedy is wrong to focus on the victims, however. If the focus of Constitutional law was on victims, the Bill of Rights would have been repealed long ago. The concern is that it is cruel and unusual to kill people who are not fully formed individuals. And of course, why is it that the age for being tried as an adult can be as low as 12, or 14 - but to be able to vote, or drive, or drink are all pegged at different ages? Presumably, the age at which these 'privileges' are pegged correlate to a presumed level of maturity in the individual. We're more than happy to let a child go to jail, charged as an adult at the age of 14 because, for some reason, if the crime is more serious, then he is more responsible - not less.

Gina Holland from the AP reports on Roper v. Simmons.

Also from the Baltimore Sun: Should a teenage killer have to pay with his life?
Three juveniles involved - one got a death sentence, one got life with parole, and one got 9 months in a juvenile facility.

Dahlia Lithwick, my very very favorite! The Young and the Reckless: The Supreme Court Contemplates Executing Juveniles

Christopher Columbus Hates Me.

I went downtown to do some "unshopping" as This Fish Needs a Bicycle calls it. I had to return some items and decided that I should be looking at Columbus Day sales, as Columbus would have wanted it.

When I arrived at the store to return my purchases, I noticed a nice lavender sweater that I wanted to try on. The line for the registers was about 20 min. After that wait, I grabbed the sweater to try it on, having unloaded my returns. There were 10-15 people waiting in line for the dressing room. This store is ridiculous. So, I put down my bag and my jacket, take the sweater off the hanger, and try it on in front of a mirror. It's ok. Not great. As I am taking it off and putting it back on the hanger, a scrawny white girl with braces who doesn't look a day over 15, who I've seen working there before, says not very nicely to me, "You have to try that on in the dressing room. We can't let customers try clothing on in the store." As she is speaking to me, I continue to put the sweater on the hanger, I look up at her, smiled an icy smile, and said, "Thank you." Bitch did NOT just call me out like that. It's not like I was bustin' out a pair of jeans or a thong. It's a sweater. It's SUPPOSED to be layered over other clothing. And, if we're going to be all "rules of customer service" about this joint, then a) open another goddamn dressing room, or four b) open another 6 registers and c) do not ever speak to me like that in public, especially if I don't know you. Got it?

Then at lunch, I spilled an entire soda. All over the floor.

*sigh* I wanted to cry right then. I didn't. I shook it off, took a deep breath, face to the sun, all that crap. On my way out, I paid the man in the wheelchair $1. I gave $1 to the guy who held the door open for me, too. It would have been rude not to, and frankly, he's about the only man who has been polite to me in this city. The least I can do is hand him a dollar. Besides, when I get in funks like that, it's a selfish endeavor for me to give change to people who are asking for it. Every single thing I purchase or eat is borrowed at this point, either federal loans or a credit card - but sometimes, when I give other people money, it just makes me feel like I've shed some of my burden. I feel less stressed about money when I'm handing it to someone who is homeless. I figured, this will make me feel better. I'll have a good vibe, good karma. Deciding I needed to not be so much in public, I retreated to the bookstore, selected a pile of books, and hid in a corner. I wedged myself in between the end of a bookshelf and the floor-to-ceiling window. My second grade teacher had a little reading nook like that next to one of the classroom closets, with a special, large, smiley face pillow. Our names got picked out of the hat to determine who received the honor of settling there during reading time. The next time I am in a position to be discriminatory in my housing arrangements, I want to create a reading nook. Ahhhhh. How relaxing.

Then I knocked over my coffee.

On my way home, my beautiful brown suede jacket got caught on a piece of metal, which tore a 5 inch gash from the pocket to the bottom of the jacket.

Came home. Ate some apple crisp. I've now shut myself in my room, which has no furniture or sharp objects, so it's not likely for me to do much harm here.

Let's try on some Introvert and see how that fits.

Finding this city to be a miserable failure as far as creating opportunity for establishing new social connections, I wash my hands of the matter. I made apple crisp for three houses on this street (including my own) yesterday, and that's about the extent of my social circle. Which is unfortunate, since I received an apple peeler / corer / slicer for my bday, and I can now mass-produce apple crisp.

Rejecting the outside and now retreating inward, this is my Half.com reading list:

Purchased this weekend:
Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Unbearable Lightness of Being, by Milans Kundera

Almost purchased, but left on the Wish List:
Nickel and Dimed, Barbara Ehrenreich
Running with Scissors, Augusten Burroughs

Adding to wish list right now:
The Motorcycle Diaries, Ernesto "Che" Guevara
True Notebooks, Mark Salzman
Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Tom Robbins
Anything I can find cheap by Kurt Vonnegut, because I've never once in my life read a book by him. I think I read a short story by him once. It's downright tragic that I've never read any of his books.

What I REALLY wanted to do this weekend

... was crash a wedding.

I really wanted to get dressed up in the one swanky dress I own, slip on some black, rhinestone strappy shoes, put on red lipstick, dab some of my favorite scent behind my ears, stroll into a lovely hotel, and crash a reception. Actually, it wouldn't have to be just a wedding. A retirement party, a swanky birthday party, whatever. A special occasion for someone, where not everyone would necessarily know everyone else, and everyone was having a good time. Where I could dance with a nicely dressed gentleman to a Tony Bennett song, twirling around the dance floor.

I'm sure there's a way to pull it off. And hey, it's October - it's a virtual guarantee that every hotel and reception hall in town is hosting a wedding on a weekend. This can't be hard...

Examples of why you can't always trust the legal system - crazy judges.

Link from Not Guilty.

I can't believe this guy was once a public defender!!!!

I mean look at paragraph 14. Being held on $25,000 bail for riding your bike on the sidewalk without lights or a horn? I mean, aside from the fact that the judge has a blatant disregard for the Sixth Amendment - that's just crazy.

“Criminal Justice and Deportation: The Invisible Crisis”

More good fun.

DC cop convicted

A D.C. police officer was sentenced yesterday to six months in jail for helping to buy PCP for a woman who later was found dead... So far this year, 26 D.C. officers have been arrested, one of them twice, according to Gentile, who said privacy rules prevented him from providing the names of the officers and the charges against them.


Juvenile Worker Charged

A worker at Maryland's new juvenile detention center in Baltimore faces charges stemming from an alleged assault on a 15-year-old resident, court records show, underscoring growing concerns about the safety of children held at the pretrial facility.

Roslyn DeShields, 40, is to appear in Baltimore Circuit Court this month to answer charges of custodial child abuse and second-degree assault. A police affidavit alleges that she struck the boy "one time in the face with her hand" as he was being held against a window by another staff member, resulting in "a small welt and swelling under [the boy's] right eye."

Death Row Inmate No More, Texan Walks Free to a New Life

Hartford Boy, 12, Charged in Death of Friend

I had tears.

Today in court: Guy pled guilty to drug trafficking. He was wearing a nicely pressed white shirt, untucked, with black pants. Looks like Gregory Hines, older male; looked tall, stately, weary. Dominican, couldn't speak any English. Sentenced to 3 years with two years probation. Probably won't serve the probation because he will probably be deported, said the prosecutor. He walked from the witness stand to the bailiffs. He was cuffed and before he left through the prisoner door, he waved goodbye to his wife.

Today's articles

Convicted killer accepts offer for life prison term.
In June of last year, the U.S. Supreme Court, while letting Wiggins' conviction stand, threw out the death sentence. In ordering a new sentencing hearing for Wiggins, the majority wrote that jurors probably would not have chosen to put the borderline mentally retarded painter to death had they been told that he was forced to beg for food by his alcoholic mother and that he was physically and sexually abused by his foster parents.

7 Dissenters on U.S. Court Cannot Stop an Execution
Unless the Supreme Court intervenes or Paul Gregory House dies first from the multiple sclerosis he has, he will be executed.

Prosecutors Won't Pursue Cases of 227 in Disputed Protest
Charges have been dropped against the 227 protesters who were arrested during one of the most disputed demonstrations of the Republican National Convention.

The Baltimore Sun and Washington Post have this AP article:
Maryland Public Defender Nancy S. Forster has asked a judge to close the state's new juvenile detention facility or order immediate improvements there, citing "systemic" violence, including allegations that workers have induced young residents to fight one another.

Supreme Court previews

The Legal Information Institute (LII) now has Supreme Court Previews, summarizing the cases scheduled to be argued before the Supreme Court.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

Nothing too wild, nothing too crazy. Update to follow.

So much, and yet nothing at all.

Tomorrow I am a quarter century dead. To celebrate, I've been cramming peanut butter cups down my throat for the past few days. No good.

Got in a bizarre email fight with Mr. Maybe (well, he didn't know we were in a fight, I had to tell him) over, of all things, Kevin Millar. I was absolutely fuming. I rarely get that angry at people that I care about, but then again, it's the people we care for most that hurt us most, right? What started with clever banter about baseball statistics ended with an email from him that not only insulted my intelligence (overtly) but was patronizing and insinuated that the only thing I could offer my clients is an ineffective assistance of counsel claim on appeal. I didn't answer his email for (gasp) an entire day and a half. Then he called today, so I returned his call. I told him it upset me, he apologized, we moved on. I couldn't chat with him because I was on the train but I just tried calling him to actually TALK to him, and he didn't pick up. Sigh. My brain would function so much more effectively if I were still ignoring him.

Sent in my resume to many agencies that are interviewing at a job fair, and have heard NOTHING. Not one has said, "Sure. Love to interview you." Now, the agencies that will be at the job fair are pretty much the only agencies on my wonderful spreadsheet of places to which I'm applying. So, they all have my info, and if they deny me an interview at the job fair, that's not just making the job fair a bust - it's making my entire job search a bust. What makes me even more nervous is that I've been so distracted by unimportant personal things that I don't really remember completing my job apps - it's just a vague and recent memory about being aggravated about it. But they all got sent out, and for the life of me, I can't remember to whom I sent what.

Saturday night, I went out with friends from SummerTown in FallTown. It was the best night I've had here yet. I got to meet new people, see an old friend, check out some new bars, and make it into bed by 2 am. Sunday morning brunch ended up being quite a treat as well. Brunch is the most important meal of the week, as far as I'm concerned. The diner down the street was packed, so we were going to head to a pub on the other side of town, but we were intercepted by other friends ditching the diner for IHOP. We all went to IHOP and I made more new friends (they were roommates of a friend - and they were really, really hot). It was an incredibly pleasant brunch experience, followed by the Patriots. Aaaaah. Wonderful Sunday. Ended up staying out late to see a former blind date perform at a nearby bar. Confirmed that I don't have much desire to see former blind date again.

Dahlia's Supreme Court Dispatches is back! This week, it's "Batman and the Penguin Eat Blakely." Sweet. Diligent bloggers post info on Blakely:
SCOTUSBlog 1 and SCOTUSBlog 2.
Observations from Sentencing Blog.

Go Sox.

On being an adult.

It's confirmed. Mr. Maybe and I are just friends. No more, no less. I set him up for it - I needed to hear it (or read it, rather) - but it still upset me. Of course we're just friends. We live 8 hours apart and may never live near each other ever again. We dated for a matter of weeks. I got the email at the end of my day. I had been in court for the afternoon, just observing a high-profile trial. I got back at the end of the day and saw his name in my inbox. And when I read his subtle answer to my subtle question, it was clear as day what we were both saying.

I left work and had to go to a local law school to pick up MPRE materials. That was a bigger hassle than it was worth, and I was running late for Tuesday Fun Night, which is supposed to be a weekly gathering of friends to just hang out and touch base. It has fallen off as of late, and I'm only a recent participant, but they are friends whose company I enjoy very much. Fun Night was scheduled for tonight, and I had reluctantly agreed to participate despite a fellowship application due tomorrow and dragged another friend into it. We decided to meet at the liquor store halfway between home and the subway, so he could get wine and we could quickly get on our way. I'm not gonna lie, I was feeling sorry for myself and quite lonely on the subway ride home, and I shed a sorrowful tear or two. When I got to the liquor store, my friend was waiting for me with two bottles of wine. He went into the store to get his keys, which he thought he left on the counter. I went over to his truck and - get this - it was running, and his keys were locked in it. He never does anything like that. He comes out and I indicate the problem to him. We have to wait for a locksmith, we're going to be a little later than planned for Fun Night. I even tried breaking into his truck with a credit card. (Where are my kids when I need them?) So he puts the wine bottles in the brown bags in the bed of his truck, pulls down the gate of his truck, grins, and says, "Wanna have a seat? let's be even more ghetto." I hopped on, kicked my legs and said, "What's even better is that this feels like home." While we waited in the tiny parking lot of the liquor store in the middle of the city with rush hour traffic all around, I told him a story.

Two nights ago, I read my tarot cards. I do that every once in a while when I start to lose my balance. People think different things about tarot cards, which is fine. What I will say about them is that when you read your own, you give your own spin to each of the meanings of the cards. If nothing else, it will indicate to you more clearly what you're feeling and thinking, and where you feel like you're headed. It doesn't necessarily tell you the future. It just tells you what you already know. My tarot cards have never been wrong. I read my cards twice, for different but related questions. The second reading stood out for me more than the first did. Both readings indicated that the center of the question was a smart and skilled woman selflessly offering her help to others. The second reading told me that there was a recently passing phase of lust, and that I'm starting to enter a phase of anxiety about jobs and economic status. There was a card that indicated I was blazing my own path according to my own sense of reality and my own values. There were a few other good cards in there, but the only other one that I remember clearly was the last one - the "answer." In the end of all of this, I will achieve spirital fulfillment, contentment, and bliss. That's what awaits me. What's odd is that I had inquired specifically about the possibility of future romances. Not one card in the entire spread indicated it. Let's review. Selflessly giving to others, spiritual fulfillment, my own little world, no intimate relationships.

All signs point to "nun."

And all I could think about on the way home today, as I felt sorry for myself for losing some really good lust, for having no dates on the horizon, for feeling lonely and unemployed and looking at my 6th consecutive single birthday, was that spiritual contentment card and Bill Murray in Caddyshack: "So I've got that going for me, which is good."

And we swung our feet and talked about the crises in our friends' lives and then the locksmith came and charged an exorbinant amount of money. We proceeded to Fun Night. Dinner was perfect. Excellent chianti. Yummy pasta and garlic bread. Apple pie for dessert. Sprinkled among it all was just good conversation with good friends. Serious conversations but a lot more laughs and stories. An ex who is getting married (and for once, it wasn't mine.) Picking up and moving across the country for a fresh start. Remember when? An adorable black cat sprawled across a lap. Three single women all trying to rid themselves of a recent man, one single gay man, one straight man seriously dating someone, and a married man who was the same person that I remember when we hung out in college. And when I left, walking down the street with two friends to our cars , I said exactly how I felt.

"We're all gonna be ok."

You might be an old maid if...

your friend asked you what you wanted to do for your birthday, and you suddenly realized that this will be the 6th consecutive birthday that you will be single.

Courtesy and chivalry.

One thing that irks me about the city in which I'm living this fall is how much people are just shut down to what's going on around them and just involved in their own little world. I think it's typical of bigger cities, but it's more than just the 'city filter' here. For instance, when someone kicks your umbrella out of your hands, wouldn't it be nice if, instead of just brushing by with an apologetic look on their face, they picked it up for you?

This summer, I grew quite accustomed to men opening doors for women and allowing women to proceed first, stepping aside on the sidewalk for women to pass, etc. It didn't happen all the time, but it was commonplace. I liked it when Mr. Maybe walked on the outside of the sidewalk, closest to the street, or when he would usher me by first, with his hand at the small of my back. I'm sure most of the men in my life would bark about liberated women, open the door yourself, yadda yadda. I'm not saying I need a man to open my door for me. But I would like him to. I can manage the world on my own, thankyouverymuch. Sometimes, though, I'd prefer not to. We all want to be a princess sometimes. I do own a tiara.

As far as Mr. Maybe - well, we're back into the non-responsive stage. Haven't gotten a response from him recently. I did speak with him briefly on Saturday, but... sigh. I need to kick this habit. I need to retreat to the safe cocoon of singlehood and not-looking. Being lonely in an abstract sense is easier. I have plenty going on. Tonight I had dinner with friends. Tomorrow night, dinner with other friends. Saturday, BBQ. Sat night, friend from DC coming to Boston to visit. I should refocus on the gym, the Red Sox, and getting a job. After work, that should be enough to fill my days.

Well, clearly...

Stewart's fans more educated than O'Reilly's
At first I wasn't sure if we were talking about Martha Stewart or Jon Stewart. I'm delighted.

I want to move to Baltimore.

Not Guilty is moving there. I can't explain it, but I've had an obsession for Baltimore for a few years now. I've only been a few times, and there are many parts of the city I haven't seen, but I really want to live there. In my head, it's wonderful. I imagine that there's a really fun and laid back young population there, I know there are beautiful old rowhouses, the rent is cheap, and Camden Yards is awesome. And there is no doubt that the client population for public defenders is exactly what I'm looking for.

At least I've been to Baltimore. I also have a fetish for cities to which I've never been. Richmond is on its way out, Savannah and Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill are also cities for which I've previously had fetishes. Never been to any of those cities, though.

Today, I went to work for three hours. My day started at CVS, where I purchased cough drops and tissues. My bag was already packed with my heels, a roll of toilet paper (in lieu of kleenex), a Nalgene bottle, an empty coffee mug, a large notebook, and my lunch. No room for anything else. I took my cough drops and 8 tissue pocket packs and left the store. I had the receipt in one hand and my Kleenex in the other. I threw the receipt in the trash outside the store and when I got to the end of the block, I wondered why I was holding the receipt in my left hand and where my kleenex went? sure enough, I had thrown away the wrong items. Ugh. Luckily, the tissues were still shrink wrapped and landed on a pile of newspapers, so I plucked them out and substituted my receipt. I am on death's door, but went to work because the hearing on the motion to suppress for which I wrote the response was today. I got to sit at the big table in front of the judge. I left from court at the attorney's insistence. I wanted to go into work to let my supervisor know, but the attorney I was with insisted that I leave and told me that he'd tell my supervisor. I feel uncomfortable with that, but relented. I couldn't call my boss because I've lost my voice. So I emailed him from home. No response. Hmmm. Does he hate me?

Washington Post is on a roll this week.

A Brotherhood of Fathers: Conference Aims to Educate and Connect Single Dads With Support: James Hall is learning what it takes to be a father.

The Ballou Senior High School student, who is 18, has been struggling to care for his year-old daughter, Ja'Mya Princess Hall. He missed the first couple of weeks of school because he could not find day care. He has been living with Ja'Mya at a friend's place in Maryland, and other than making some occasional money moving furniture, he doesn't have a job.

So much news today.

Nothing related to my personal life. I think I hit the lowest of low points today at work. I was so miserable. But the very end of the day was promising, keep your fingers crossed.

I don't blog from work so I emailed myself all of the following links to share:

I did an extensive note on this case - so when I read the first two paragraphs, I thought, "Hey, don't I know that guy?"
Md. Offers Parole Chance in Capital Case: A Maryland man whose death sentence was thrown out by the U.S. Supreme Court must decide within a week whether to accept a prosecution offer that would immediately make him eligible for parole, one of his attorneys said yesterday.

Kevin Wiggins, 43, has served 16 years in prison for the 1988 drowning of Florence Lacs, a 77-year-old widow, in a bathtub at her apartment west of Baltimore. The Supreme Court overturned his death sentence last year, saying his public defenders had failed him, but the court allowed his conviction to stand.

Virginia Youth Offenders Caught in Transition

Judge Removes Himself From Va. Sniper Case: The Fairfax County judge overseeing the second trial of John Allen Muhammad recused himself yesterday after he had been accused by prosecutors of conducting his own investigation into a claim by the convicted sniper's attorneys.
Report Criticizes the Way Md. Treats Troubled Youth
I keep seeing articles about this, and all I can think about is HOW BADLY these juveniles need to have a resource like the job that I had this summer. This would be perfect - they could create the position for me just as I'm graduating. God, I loved that job. Working with detained and committed youth was the best thing I ever did. I want to go back.

Slate article: Thou dost protest too much.

Cat Stevens is a terrorist threat. (Seriously. Of all the pop stars.... Cat Stevens?)

Op-ed on overzealous prosecution re: terrorism. and another article relating to that (charges dropped against one accused.) This is why the world needs defense attorneys!

Start of the Season.

Throw on the favorite jeans and sweater, get your pennant and banners ready, stock the house with your favorite snacks and beverages. Settle in front of the screen because the Season of the Supreme Court is about to begin.

Season opens at home on October 4th with the Blakely v. Washington fallout cases. This is good for some of you because this means I'll stop with my selfish drivel and start discussing interesting things again. For those who couldn't care less that my favorite amendment is the Sixth Amendment, well, there will still be plenty of selfish drivel.

My internet is back up and running. Woohoo.

And now what do I have?

My internet has been down, hence the lack of postings. I'm about to climb into bed. I've had a typical work week. I've been out just about every night this week. Last night, I went on a date. It was fine, but I don't have much interest in seeing this individual again, in a 'dating' situation anyway. He emailed me and asked if he could see me again. I have to respond.

I've exchanged several emails with Mr. Maybe today, told him about my date. He also has a date this evening. Hearing that made me want to cry and throw up. I cried. Not for any good reason - I was just jealous and sad. My friends were all out and about when I got home from work today, so I went to a sports bar by myself. Met a construction company. Chatted with one individual in particular (by virtue of the fact that he was sitting directly next to me), who seems like a fun guy to drink with, but not sure that I'd ever trust him with any more than that. We exchanged phone numbers. He called to let me know where he was going later that night. Now I feel bad. I finally met a friend of a friend with whom I had exchanged several emails. I liked him a lot. thought I had him at the end of the night, but here I am typing my blog entry. So. Clearly not. All in all, it's been a great evening. Now it's time for bed.

The Great Gay Matchmaker.

That should be my new official title. If this whole law thing doesn't work out, I can always fall back on setting up all of the gay men in my life with each other.

I had been invited to attend a birthday party for a friend from high school. He's very gay. I was well aware of the fact that I'd be the token 1. straight person and 2. female at the party, so I wasn't particularly excited about it at first. I hadn't seen this friend in a while, and I definitely wanted to see him, but it's difficult to maximize my own social needs in a house full of gay men. I decided to go for several other reasons: first, I have a recently out friend who I wanted to introduce to other area gay men; second, I have another friend who really wanted to go but didn't want to go alone; third, an old acquaintance from high school who I haven't seen since then was going to be there, and fourth - it's not like I had any other plans. It turned out to be a nice evening, despite the fact that three of my friends all independently stated at some point in the night that my boobs looked great (gay men?) and that I was going to serve as a surrogate mother for them later in life. But I did my part and made my introductions. My newly gay friend is sufficiently connected to a gay social/support network and despite the fact that he rarely enjoys large and foreign social situations, he did very well for himself.

It looks like I will be going on a blind date this week. I have to call him and set up plans. He had recommended maybe getting together this weekend but I just had too many things to do. And I've actually yet to accomplish more than one or two of them, so it's not looking like my week will be much better either. If I call him, it means mustering up the energy to figure out some conversation topics in advance and to sound fun and vivacious for the duration of the phone call. I'm too focused on my own tasks right now, and besides, the best part of a date is just knowing that someone is interested in you. It's all downhill from there, isn't it? I'm in no rush.

I got an email from one public defender letting me know that they're waiving the first round of interviews for me and sending me directly to the final round. Eeek. I have to get a writing sample together for this public defender, I have to get the rest of my applications together for two other public defenders who have asked for it, and I still have to finish getting my initial application out for a whole bunch of other public defenders and fellowships. Ugh, it's so tedious. I don't want to spend my precious weekend time on these things.

The best part of my day during the week is the young man who works at the hardware store that I pass on my way to the train. He caught my eye at first because he resembles Mr. Maybe. Not generally the "type" that I am immediately attracted to, but because he resembles someone that I am incredibly attracted to, he gets a second look. I see him putting the displays out in front of the store every morning, and closing up the store on my way home in the evening. It's the highlight of my day. He's rugged, blue-collar, a little gruff. I can't figure out how old he is though. He could be far too young, for all I know.

Well, I suppose it's time to start tackling some tasks for the day.

I'm still here.

I've had an ok week. One more dream about my teeth falling out. It was different this time though, all but 2 fell out and they fell out in groups. I've been going to the gym regularly, which is good. My internship is not any more interesting than it was last week.

Things to be happy about when I stop being needlessly distracted by the past: I heard responses from two places to which sent my resume. First, I'm going back for a big round of interviews with my summer agency. Second, I'm sending along the rest of my application for another agency, who requested it. Sweet. Tonight, I am shooting off some quick emails to the ones that I haven't heard from yet. (Question - huge faux pas to email to confirm receipt and ask when I should expect to hear? Should I call instead? At least one of the places said no phone calls, so I didn't have much choice).

Things to start thinking about when I stop being needlessly distracted by the past: I've received some friendly interest from at least one individual of the opposite sex.

Things about the past that are PARTICULARLY needlessly distracting: Mr. Maybe. I miss his dark complexion, his very toned body, I miss gazing at the tattoo on his arm and across his back. I miss just feeling comfortable around him.

Things I realized today on the commute home: I didn't know Mr. Maybe well at all.

But you know, that's ok too.

On nights like tonight, after talking to Mr. Maybe for several days; after returning to friends and the comfort of home for a long weekend; when there is no one that understands on the other end of the phone, the residual loneliness of a dark room that doesn't feel like home is too gaping and too hollow and too much, and the tears left on my pillow don't do much to fill it.

It takes so much energy to keep restarting. I'm so fortunate to have connections and experiences in so many areas, but damn, it's hard. It takes so much backbreaking work to delve into the hard, rocky ground of a new place with just my little shovel. It takes a lot of muster to pour a foundation, to start feeling solid about new work and new people. And then the frame goes up, and the work starts to pay off. Then the roof, the walls, and next thing you know, you're ready to place the last picture frame on the last wall. And just as soon as it feels like a really good start of a really good thing, it's time to pick up and start all over again, hunched over a new unforgiving plot of land, muscles a little more sore, shovel a little less sharp and shiny.

I really love orange, too.

Painting Over It.

Thank you for articulating exactly how I feel.

Week in Review.

Work: I have my own intern office at work. It's a decent size, but it has no window. It has a monitor on the desk, and a keyboard on the floor. No tower. Thus, I've spent the entire week in what I call the "computer dungeon" - the computer training room five floors below that NO ONE USES except me. It's cold and lonely. This week hasn't been great. I have tons of questions about how a case is developed for trial - and no answers. Yet. But I think by the end of the semester, when my questions are answered, I will be one badass litigator. I hope. Until then, my experience as a prosecutor is merely an extension of my worst nightmare - a semester full of "legal writing" and "research."

Love: Ups and downs. Nothing here in FallTown, at all. Mr. Maybe has been wonderful [long distance] company this week. Had a wonderful and lengthy conversation last night, which just made me so much more sad when I got off the phone with him. He misses me and doesn't want to wait 8 more weeks for me to return to SummerTown. So, after some time and consideration, I say, sure. I'll visit you this month instead of waiting. Then I saw the new 20 yr old that he added to his Friendster circle yesterday. I am willing to bet, right now, that's the girl he'll marry someday. Despite the fact that she's TWENTY right now, if I had to base it solely by profile alone, I'd say she's the perfect gal for him. On the other hand, judging him on his profile alone, I was completely uninterested in him. Funny how these things work.

Life: People in FallTown are just rude. No one holds the door for me, whether letting me go first or letting me go behind them. Got in a fight with two people at the post office. Middle aged man driving a CASKET DELIVERY TRUCK leered out the window to me as I was crossing the street on my way home today, "How does that ice cream taste, baby?" which caught me off guard not because of the leering, but because of the absence of anything more insulting than that, which I'm accustomed to from SummerTown. I ignored him.

Things that make life worth living: Got rave reviews from summer boss that indicate a potential for a BIG interview for full-time job with summer agency. After fighting with the post office, getting leered at by someone who drives dead people's storage items around, and feeling completely and 100% inadequate versus the new Friendster hussy of Mr. Maybe's, I sat on the porch with friends, vented, drank lots of beer. Then walked to the grocery store to buy more beer feeling reeeeeeally good and, oddly, bought a Red Sox helium balloon that I decided to treat like a pet to walk home and use as a mascot back in LawSchoolTown this weekend. (who DOES that?) Talked to Mr. Maybe and let him know I sent him an email (which addresses Friendster hussy issue, not too subtley.) He doesn't know what the message is about which makes me feel bad. Because he said he's looking forward to it. Watched Red Sox game with aforementioned friends, ordered Chinese food, drank lots of beer. Red Sox won, Chinese food feels like a rock in my stomach, and I'm going to bed.

Love and hugs.

Teeth-gnashing dreams.

I have recurring dreams in which my bottom teeth are stuck in an underbite, firmly against my top front teeth. In my dream, I am trying to get my bottom teeth/jaw out from in front of my top teeth. Generally, this results in my teeth shattering into vertical shards, because I keep trying to just pull in my lower jaw instead of opening my mouth first. From time to time my conscious self is able to tell my sleeping self to open my mouth and gently readjust my jaw - however, in my dream, I am never able to actually open my mouth more than a few centimeters. I have this dream several times a month, and I had it twice last week. It's an agonizing, painful, splintering, shattering dream, and I hate it.

Yesterday, after several hours of helping someone else haul heavy furniture and boxes out of one apartment, into the truck, out of the truck, and into the new apartment, four of us were sitting on the porch taking a break. My lower back was starting to throb, so I sprawled flat on my back on the wooden floor of the porch, limbs splayed out at every angle. The weather was lazy weather - sunny, hot, oppressively humid - and it had started to take its toll on our energy after several hours of moving. Just taking a breath was enough to start sweating. My muscles were starting to feel sore, which was a good feeling after several days of not working out, but not a good feeling when faced with the remainder of the boxes and furniture. Our sleepy conversation included pedicures, massages, and Christina Aguilera before turning to dentists. At that point, I shared with my fellow movers the recurring teeth-shattering dream, and that I'd even had the dream twice that week. One friend recommended a mouth guard for sleeping. The other friend, the subject of the move, shed some light on the situation. "When you dream about your teeth falling out, or grinding your teeth, or breaking them, those are anxiety dreams. It means you're stressed out."

I have arrived in FallTown. I moved my things into my new apartment on Saturday, although I haven't actually lived there yet because the room is still being occupied. I've been staying with my dear friend from college and that's worked out well thus far. He helped me move on Saturday, then we moved his friend all day yesterday, and the weather couldn't be worse. It's hot, sticky, gross, and unrelenting.

Mr. Maybe has been frustrating. He called me last Wed, but I missed his call. I intended to return his call on Thurs but received an email from him, stating that his car had been broken into and his cell phone stolen. So I emailed him a nice email about what I was up to, and a couple of specific questions about how he was doing. Of course, no response. I had stopped making attempts to contact him, then he decided to contact me, and then he went back to refusing to respond. It really made me angry. I sent him a short, civil text msg on Saturday night and he responded. He told me that he missed me and then called me a pet name. Out of nowhere. The pet name caused me to raise an eyebrow, as I have no idea what prompted such a pet name, but the sentiment was very much welcome. It at least made me feel as though his utter lack of communication is not because he never really liked me to begin with. It was affecting me very personally - it made me feel like he was just never very interested, and that all of the wonderful and thoughtful things he did and said were all a crock. I suppose it's a guy thing, out of sight out of mind. It appears as though he'll contact me when he's bored enough. Great. I just know better than to expect any sort of response from him. But at least he's being sincere.

I've sent out my resume to about ten very competitive public defenders. Cross your fingers. One was sent a week ago, and I've yet to hear a response. The other nine were sent on Saturday. I'm terrified that I'll be unemployed.

I was in HomeTown last week. Just about every one of my friends is either married and owns a home, married with children and owns several homes, or in a long-term relationship, thinking about marrying and owning homes. Enter single, unsettled female who is in the process of moving for the third time in three months, whose debt is the equivalent of a mortgage for a very nice house, who is not currently dating anyone, and who has no visible job prospects. Nothing like a friendly BBQ to yank out the deepest of forgotten insecurities. During a pleasant lunch with one close friend, she asked if I'd heard from College Ex-Boyfriend in recent months. It caught me off guard a bit, as I rarely think about College Ex anymore, except when he appears in my dreams as Mr. Maybe from this summer (odd, but I never gave it a second thought). So, at last week's BBQ, I asked a mutual friend how College Ex was doing. Apparently he fell head over heels in love with a beautiful young Japanese woman while on a business trip some years ago (I vaguely remember hearing about this years ago) and is in the course of arranging to be married to her (immigration paperwork and such). Friend confirms that she is, indeed, drop-dead gorgeous.

Unexpectedly and inexplicably, this information causes my stomach and chest to compress to the size of a pea, which does not prevent me from gulping down three more beers. The pressure in my head and chest did not subside, and in fact persisted for several more days. I started to believe that without being Selma Hayek or a flawless Asian beauty, I am doomed to lead a life of superficial and short-lived relationships that, in retrospect, must have meant nothing at all, as it must be likely that anyone crazy enough to date me must have just been biding his time for Selma. Add this information with aforementioned marriage / property ownership / child-bearing tidal waves crashing around my ears. At that moment, I confirmed that I had stepped into some alternate universe in which I absolutely do not fit in anywhere.

Mr. Maybe, unemployment, self-doubt, debt of a third world country, living out of my car. If a mouth guard can solve this, then I'll take two.

Closing that chapter: The Transition.

I drove all the way back to law school. I knew that I'd need some time in my house, in my neighborhood, in my town, with friends and all the comforts of home. Additionally, I needed to be at a wedding on Sunday. Originally I had planned to stay an extra week of my summer so I could interview in that area of the country, but friendship obligations arose.

My first evening back, I went with three friends to our favorite Mexican restaurant. My summer experience had re-established a confidence that law school had completely sucked out of me. I felt like I had the soft glow of a peaceful confidence about me. I was not irate, anxious, jittery, chatty, hurried, rushed, or aggressive. Just peaceful, comfortable, content. My three friends had spent the summer in another major city working for large corporate law firms. For the first time, I found it difficult to communicate with my own friends. It was as though we spoke different languages. The peaceful glow waivered. It's difficult to maintain the personal changes that emerge from such a unique experience, when everyone else's experience was so different from mine but so universally similar to each other's. I had nothing to share or contribute, the conversation and the experience weren't mine. Nevertheless, I had missed this town and these people, and I was so sad that I was going to be leaving, AGAIN. I wished that I hadn't decided to do an externship, I wished that if I had to do one, that it was back in the city of my summer, and not a new city, and certainly not with a prosecutor's office. I just wanted to be able to unpack my car into my room (which is now occupied by my sublettor), kick up my feet, and stick with what I knew.

The wedding on Sunday was beautiful, just perfect. By Monday, I was all business, I arranged meetings with professors, took care of paperwork, re-tooled my resume, paid bills. Tuesday was more of the same. By Wednesday, I was growing restless. By Thursday, I was bored out of my mind. By Friday, I decided that returning here for a week was a really good idea. I hadn't wanted to move on, thinking about how much I'd miss the town and the people. It's true, I will miss those things so much. But I had already grown as much as I could in that place with those people, and I was going away for a semester because I knew, both academically and personally, that things were growing stagnant, and it was time for me to seek a new and different experience. When I left on Saturday, I was ready to go. I'll miss my gym, my grocery store, my dearest and closest friends. I won't miss classes that don't interest me or the social life that's like the never-changing weekly menu of a school cafeteria.

Now I'm back at mom's house. Mr. Wonderful has now become Mr. Maybe. He hasn't responded to my email or calls this past week, after we exchanged a few emails in the beginning of the week. I let him know that I had booked a flight for a long weekend back in that city two months from now to take care of job stuff and visit with people that I met this summer. I particularly wanted to spend a few days of my 4 day trip with him. I haven't heard from him since. It hurts me deeply to think that this was an all-or-nothing situation for him. I told him that it would be important for me to continue to communicate with him, especially since I felt as though I'd need some support professionally, moving from criminal defense work to working for a prosecutor's office, and also since I intend to begin interviewing with public defender offices for a full-time position this fall. Perhaps Mr. Maybe needs time to chill out. Perhaps he isn't willing to communicate as much as I'd like to. Maybe I'll check in with him in another two weeks, after my first week with the prosecutor, just to debrief. Maybe I should rebook my flights so I'm not in town for 4 days, just wishing that I was with Mr. Maybe but instead just bumming around the city by myself. We'll see.

This week, I have to mail my resume to every public defender that I want to be hired by. There are quite a few. I'm stressed that I may be unemployed when I graduate, or that I'll be employed in a city that personally frightens me but offers great work experience, or that I'll just be all alone in this crazy world.

I'm still in a funk. Leaving Law School Town to come back to Hometown didn't shake it. The benefit to this funk, I suppose, is that I cannot wait to begin the next chapter on August 30th. Stay tuned for The Next Chapter: Woman of the Law Goes to Prosecutor's Office.

Closing that chapter.

My last night was Friday the 13th. I packed up my car and headed to Mr. Wonderful's house, where I was to spend my last evening in the city. Our whirlwind courtship had hit some uncomfortable moments for a few days, but by Tuesday and Wednesday, things were better than ever. We had a wonderful date on Wed night and Fri night was the night of the Final Date. The Final Date was perfect. We went to the neighborhood pub, watched the Red Sox, two of his wonderful friends joined us there. We then moved on to play pool, but first battled wits in a Connect Four tournament while we waited for a table. We played two rousing games of pool, Battle of the Sexes style. As he shit-talked me during the pool game, he leaned over and absent-mindedly kissed my cheek, mid-sentence. As we walked up the stairs to exit the bar, he put his hand on my lower back to usher me by. These small gestures of affection demonstrate a sense of intimacy and comfort that I knew I would miss so much. Our courtship had been so smooth and effortless. It was as though we had already known each other and were just working on knowing each other better.

The rest of the evening we spent by ourselves. It was comfortable and romantic. We talked, we kissed, he made me laugh. In the morning, he very sincerely and abruptly told me that he was going to miss me. He assured me that we'd see each other again sometime. And then I drove away without looking back.

As I realized I was driving down this major avenue, past all of these landmarks, for the last time; that this was the last time I was going to drive away from his house; that this was the last time I'd be in this city; that this was the last time I'd see my wonderful clients again - I cried. All the way down the road, through every stoplight, past every landmark. I sobbed loudly, shoulders shaking, tears streaming, wondering why I couldn't just stay, just as I was, in that city, with that job, and those people? I was exactly where I wanted to be, and I was ready to stop moving on.

After about five minutes, I arrived at the highway. I wiped my tears, sniffed a few times, squared my shoulders, and moved on.

Moving on.

I'm puttering around by room trying to get my things packed. I hate packing my room, I hate packing my car, I hate not knowing what box to look in for a shirt or deodorant. There's a large lump in my throat as I collect my toiletries from the bathroom shelves, putting each item in its respective bag; as I choose which clothes go in the suitcase and which go in the irretrievable rubbermaid container; as I pull the pictures of old friends off the walls, regretting that I have not one photo for new friends this summer. I can't imagine what it's going to be like when I wake up and don't send Mr. Wonderful his morning commute text message on my way back from the gym; I can't imagine what it's going to be like when I can't spend my day running around the youth detention center, talking to the residents, representing them in hearings, teaching street law, calling attorneys, courts, social workers.

When I moved down here, I was sad to leave friends but excited at what was next. As I move away, I'm only sad. Quite unintentionally, I built a life for myself here. I'm looking at spending another 13 weeks living out of suitcases and my car, making new connections, and then leaving again. Then I'll spend another 13 weeks at my familiar house and law school, but having not seen anyone in 9 months. Then I'll study for the bar somewhere for the summer. Then I don't even know where I'll be a year from now. Will I even have a job? Will I ever find anyone that I adore as much as I adore Mr. Wonderful?

I have to wonder what force in the universe has given me such a perfect summer, just to take it all away. If only my life could go on just as it is now. I do miss my dearest friends terribly, but I'm so tired of constantly moving on.

I am so. angry.

Romney cries injustice, blames public defenders.

The economics of being a public defender.

I cannot even believe that the governor would blame the public defenders for not being able to afford to take assigned counsel cases, and THEN blame the release of the accused on the public defender. This makes me hella angry.

I promise I'll resume blogging soon. I have a lot of thoughts to share about my summer experience, particularly the past 3 weeks, but don't have the time right this second to go into it.

In the meantime...

You're The Sound and the Fury!

by William Faulkner

Strong-willed but deeply confused, you are trying to come to grips
with a major crisis in your life. You can see many different perspectives on the issue,
but you're mostly overwhelmed with despair at what you've lost. People often have a hard
time understanding you, but they have some vague sense that you must be brilliant
anyway. Ultimately, you signify nothing.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Heartwrenching.

I'm alive. I've been spending all of my free time engaged in this torrid, whirlwind affair with Mr. Wonderful. Clearly this will terminate with my departure on Saturday. We've been spending almost every day after work together - which I generally think is an unhealthy habit, and I think we might be spending too much time together for how well we know each other. Something odd happened between us yesterday - no specific event or occurrence, but there was a distance and today he cancelled plans on me. We've tentatively rescheduled for tomorrow, but here I am suddenly with free time and no one to spend it with.

I'm pretty upset about it, but there's nothing that can be done. This has been quite a whirlwind indeed.

See you all in a week.

Why this guy is unbelievable.

He painted his room orange yesterday. Orange happens to be my favorite color.

He and his housemates have two kittens. The kittens love him best and hang out in his room.

His friends feel like friends I've known forever. By far the best people I've met all summer long.

I feel like we've known each other forever already.

He has two really hot tattoos and a nipple piercing.

He is a public defender and is incredibly passionate about his job.

He loves that I curse and is amused when I get worked up.

He loves the Red Sox.

He is incredibly sweet, thoughtful, considerate, and witty.