update

My interview went fine. I'm under no delusions that I knocked anyone's socks off, but it was pleasant enough. It made for a long day - catching a bus long before dawn, riding the bus for 5 hrs, arriving 2 hrs early, killing time, then doing the actual interview, then heading back to the bus, realizing that it was 4 pm and somehow I had only consumed a pumpkin spice latte and nothing else, and then hopped the bus back to arrive home around 10 pm.

I'm feeling a little bit pressured for time right now. When I came back to school, I was delighted with all the people I got to hang out with. Except since classes started, I haven't gone out at all. I have a research project due Sunday for which I have almost nothing done; I have trial ad sucking all my free time (but it's so fun!); I have more interviews next week; the Super Bowl is this Sunday and of course, we're having a hoard of people over. Add an hour of workouts plus two hours of class time a day, and I feel like I'm running a negative balance on the 'free time' column.

Despite my crazed schedule, I think I've managed to stay pretty mellow and in a pretty good mood. Because I only have class once a day (except Wed) I get to structure my own time, which is great. I think I'm doing a pretty good job of juggling everything - with the exception, I guess, of scheduling time for socializing. But I have four social events to hit between Fri and Sun, so that should be plenty. If I can just get this damned research done...

This guy I went out with once or twice last year, who I later found out had a girlfriend, is still someone I'll call from time to time when we're all going out. He doesn't know anyone in town, and I feel bad. (My friend kindly called it my sense of 'social benevolence'). So it's sketchy enough that he has a long-term girlfriend that he's never once mentioned or discussed with any of us. He's joined us a few times - out at the bar for a long night, two afternoons of football, etc. WELL I found out that HIS GIRLFRIEND IS NOW LIVING WITH HIM. Again, he's never even mentioned her, probably because he and I went out and he realizes that he's sketchy. But it's really, really, really sketchy that he LEFT HER AT HOME while he came out with the rest of us.

I found out this piece of information last weekend at girl's night. A friend had the ladies over to her house for dinner, wine, and chocolate... so much chocolate. It was a great night, actually. Very laid back, we put back an embarrassing number of bottles of wine, ate things that are so very bad for us, and just all caught up. It reminded me of how difficult it is for women to bond sometimes - women can be so catty to each other - but how crucial it is.

Thanks for all of your comments and words of encouragement! If I don't respond, don't take it personally - I'm just swamped and can't always get around to responding. But I do read them!

P.S. I got rave reviews on my summations - my peers have come up to tell me how impressed they were, and my video review instructor told me that he's incredibly critical, and this is probably the only time I'd hear it from him, but that he thought my summation was really good! Whew. No need to search for a new profession. I just might have learned something useful at the DA's office this semester after all...

P.P.S. I'm taking a kickass seminar in race/identity/law and I have lots of thoughts on it to share with you all. That's a warning, CDog - I suppose you'll want to stop visiting here.

My schedule

Because you care.

Tomorrow I am taking a 5 hour bus ride to City #1 at the crack of dawn, then making my way through the city to the office for my afternoon interview, then making my way back to the bus station, and back home. Will arrive home no earlier than 11:45 pm.

I have 6 hours of class on Wed, one class for which I have to have an entire book read and a response paper written.

Friday I have to be prepared to cross examine in one case, direct examination in another, and play a witness at least once.

Next week, I have to go to City #2 for an interview on Tuesday. Then I have to come back Tuesday night for another typical Wednesday (6 hrs of class, one for which I have to have read a book and written a response paper) and be prepared to direct, cross, and play witness again for both Wed and Fri. But what makes next week even better is that on THURSDAY I have to be in City #1 again. I'm considering cancelling or rescheduling, because I can't keep traveling 10 hrs in a day for an interview, then coming back for a day to attend my mandatory classes, then traveling another 10 hrs the next day. But I can't see what choice I have if I'm interested in being employed.

I haven't even started yet and I'm already tired. The next two weeks will probably see blogging at a minimum. If I don't get at least one solid job offer out of the next two weeks (although, frankly, these interviews will only lead to further interviews) I'm going to be PISSED.

My career is on the line.

I may be pursuing the wrong career. I've always been excited by the idea of being in the courtroom, but every time I get near a courtroom-simulated experience, I tense up like a roly-poly being poked by some evil neighborhood kid's stick. I would like to roll up in a ball and wait for it to go away.

Today, I will do my first simulation in trial ad. I think I have a good plan, and I think I'm capable of carrying it out, but I know once I get in there and listen to everyone else I'm going to get tense, stumble over my words, drone on monotonously.

If I'm not declared a brilliant litigator during my review session on Monday, then I'm going to quit. It's all or nothing. My first summation will dictate the rest of my career.

Ok, that's a lie. I'm not going to quit but I will cry.

Suicidal Man charged with murder, faces death penalty

Let me get this straight. This guy wanted to kill himself, but he changed his mind. At that point, his truck was already stuck and, as the CEO of the train company said, he couldn't have moved it if he tried. The train then derails, killing people, and the solution to this problem is to charge the suicidal man who couldn't move his truck with 11 counts of murder and sentence him to death?

What about the fact that it's even POSSIBLE to get stuck on a train track and that when such things occur, the train derails?

THIS IS FUCKING ABSURD. Talk about zealous prosecution.

Nota bene:

Including me on an email forward to 100 of your closest friends does not constitute 'communication' and thus, any duties of friendship are not discharged as a result of such email.

I am exhausted. I spent the whole day chatting with people I haven't seen in ages, and it's tiring! I was at the law school all day, but I only spent one hour in class and one hour studying. Whew. I'm plum tuckered out.

I spent $462 on books for TWO CLASSES. unfuckingbelievable.

I got my first issue of Maxim today. Woohoo! It's a little dirty that it has my name clearly labeled on it. A little shameful. But it's a guilty pleasure. I cracked open a beer and read it cover to cover. I only read the funny articles, and I skip over the naked women and stupid articles. Sometimes it doesn't take me long to read it.

I am listening to Buena Vista Social Club now because it's the type of music that plays inside of me but does not emerge nearly enough. I would like to meet someone who could evoke some BVSC from me.

Back in the saddle

Returning after being away since May is odd enough. Being back in CLASS for the first time since April is just awkward. The first thing I did on the way to school this morning was fall on my ass. So it's now wet, cold, and covered in salt. Then I realized I'd forgotten to bring writing utensils. See, I used to have stashes of necessary items like candy, yogurt, paper, pens, books, a coffee mug, post-its, up here at the law school. But I moved out. I've been working since May and now I know what a racket this whole 3rd year of law school is, and I couldn't care less. The school is filled with 1Ls that I've never seen, which means I virtually don't exist because everyone knows that law school is all about 1L year. If you're a 3L AND you aren't in the social loop you're as good as dead.

I am excited to take trial advocacy and I'm working on another capital case this semester. I'm taking tax, which bores me just thinking about it, but I'm taking it pass/fail. And then I have a writing seminar that sounds fascinating, on race theory and the law.

Friday night was wonderful. Most of the friends were back in town and we all went to The Bar, the bar at which we always gather. Getting ready, I pulled out all the tricks I learned from my summer roomie, who I miss and adore. Then I assembled clothing according to the clothing layering system I developed this fall. And then I went out. And how. I didn't get to sleep until 4:30 am - after drinking at the bar, flirting with men, getting a WWF move from behind, going to after hours, listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan, drinking red wine, eating pizza, and debating the role and relevance of religion in our lives and the lives of people generally, in addition to seriously discussing today's top rap artists. It was so wonderful to have SO MANY PEOPLE to talk to - people I don't know well but enjoy speaking to. I love the freedom to just approach people and start chatting, and to just walk away when I want.

I wrote an email to Mr. Summertime Fun (formerly Mr. Maybe) because one of my friends is actually an old friend of his. It's really small world. My friend slurred to me, "He's such a good guy. What's he been up to? Let's call him!" and then he passed out. But I wrote Mr. STF an email saying, basically, Hey! Friend asked me what you were up to and I have no idea. Hope all is well. No response. No surprise.

Had a really important and intimate heart to heart with bestfriendandroommate Fri night / Sat morning. We laughed, we cried, we shared, and I'm so glad we did. It was probably one of the very few moments in my life when I've communicated so openly with someone. We both laid it out there, completely exposed, and our friendship is all the richer. I can't remember the last time I felt that close to someone in my life.

Shit's getting busy. I have a class in 1.5 hours and I haven't even purchased my books yet.

How 'bout them Patriots?

Former Texas drug agent to serve 10 yrs probation

So let's see. This guy manufactures dozens of trumped up drug convictions of black guys, and gets hooked on the federal perjury statute for telling one tangential lie. Martha Stewart does that and she's doing hard time in the pen because investors lost some money. What the fuck?

Jury pool from hell:
Right after jury selection began last week, one man got up and left, announcing, "I'm on morphine and I'm higher than a kite."

Yes, I would like another drink.

Scheduled some job interviews today. Got myself pre-approved for a bar study loan (which, p.s. deducts an 11.5% disbursement fee. THEY ARE TAKING $1000 AWAY FROM ME THAT I HAVE TO PAY BACK WITH INTEREST YOU DIRTY LOAN MOTHERFUCKERS).

Spoke to an incredibly helpful individual in regards to my fellowship proposal and I started to realize what I'm getting myself into. I started to think that I don't have the financial security to embark upon this late-in-the-game adventure. And there's a chance that while it's my dream job in my head, it could backfire. Although if I'm working for myself, how bad could it possibly be? I've never been smart enough to tread softly. Inadvertently, I'm stubborn and hot-tempered enough to get what I want. It's a good thing I've chosen to use these powers for good and not evil.

When I make my life decisions, it's rarely based on pragmatism. I generally view my decisions in life as strength or weakness. I'm strong enough to embark on this; I'm weak and can't go through with this. It's not always the healthiest way to look at how I live my life, but thanks to that attitude, I've done some healthy risk-taking.

And the other day, I managed to surprise myself - the thought crept up in my mind from a different angle, and it caught me off guard. But it looks like I tricked myself into recognizing the truth. That might not change my mind, but it's always good to be self-aware.

Part of what I love about law school is the reckless abandon with which we (unknowingly) celebrate each other's company. The constant opportunities for socializing are just what this girl needs.

I had to pick up a document for my job. The person from whom I was retrieving the document is not a party to the case, and it's not even a case on which I've worked. I scurried over to retrieve the document and was just going to go home. I was invited in, offered a drink, tea, coffee, anything, etc. The overtones of the conversation were very hospitable, a mention of possibly seeing me again.

A recurring theme in my life is that I know just enough to know when I'm being stupid, but I don't know enough to fix it. In this case, cultural sensitivity. As a social worker, a large part of my education was learning to connect with people who have vastly different social expectations. In this case, I was offered food and drink so many times in my brief visit to merely retrieve a document that I knew that continuously turning it down wasn't the right answer. I apologized, stated I was on my way to meet friends for dinner, and departed a few moments later. But I still can't shake the awkwardness of the interaction. I believe that I do a good job of not showing discomfort. I have a vapid smile and a sincere thanks. But I don't feel any less foolish afterwards. And even now I wonder what was expected of me in that visit. Last week, someone needed change, so I gave them change. I give people change or dollar bills all the time - it's not something I expect in return. So, when I reflexively declined the exchange from the client, my supervisor gave it to me impatiently. Afterwards, I felt foolish. I didn't want to insult the client, and I think it might be unethical technically to give a client anything at all, but it's just habit. If you asked me for 20 cents, I'd give it to you and never expect anything back. I hate feeling stupid.

It wasn't the overtures that caught me off guard, but rather it was my inability to formulate a response that would have been comfortable for me. I think that law school has insulated me from working with clients for so long that I've become rusty. In the past two weeks, I think I've realized how far I've fallen in the way I communicate with clients. As a social worker, the emphasis of the work was creating a relationship with the client that was appropriate for the context. It's that working relationship that drives me to do public defender work. Perhaps my complaint with law, or legal education, is the emphasis on form over substance. My legal education seems to have completely overlooked the fact that 1. there are people involved and 2. facts will never, ever be a slam-dunk into one legal analysis or another - being a lawyer is all about squishing your side of the story into the most favorable analysis. Nothing ever fits nicely. And my legal education sure as hell didn't help me figure out exactly how appropriate or inappropriate it was to decline offers of hospitality.

I'm listening to Damien Rice's album, "O" right now. If you haven't heard the song "Delicate" yet, you really should. It's so good it will actually make you want to cry.

Jury conversations

I swear it's not contagious.

One way to make sure that you, as a landlord, will never rent out your property is to give your current residents no notice, so when one of the interested parties brings her father along to look at the place, the 6-month supply of birth control will be splayed all over the bathroom along with an ominous tube of medical cream.

sistah can't catch a break?

I have some bad crazy 6-months-past-due credit issue that concerns me, because damn I need a bar loan. This issue just came to my attention and I'm nervous. I mean, a $78 past due insurance payment won't break me, will it? Please oh please oh please. And when I finally decided that I would get off the couch to meet a friend to play pool and drink beer, that I would actually get out of the house and throw down some Womanofthelaw magic, he get all snippy at me and told me not to come meet them. Well. Fuck you then. Thanks.

I'm going to hide in my bed now.

Tonight is a night in which the only thing that would cheer me up right now would be a tall, broad, muscular carpenter sitting on my couch, with me in his lap, his arms wrapped around me, stroking back my hair.

And since THAT's not going to happen, it looks like I'll settle for more pjs and liquor.

I dislike my blog template. I've thought about changing to another one of the Blogger templates, but then I'll lose all the things that I've added in, won't I? And that's such a pain in the ass. Anyhow, I think that my blog in its current format is quite difficult to read since I ramble on for far too long. I'm going to try tinkering around with this one a bit more. I like the 'scribe' feel that it has, but I wish it had some more color to it. A nice hot red or orange. Grrrrrowl. Something a little more fancy. La dee da.

Today's articles

Today's Boston Globe:
*It All Comes Back to Danny Keeler: An article about a homicide detective whose credibility has been questioned
*City Gives Him A Break: Mayor Menino helps a man who served 13 yrs for a rape he didn't commit.
*If someone had been kind enough to give me this kind of career advice I wouldn't be in my current frenzy.

The New York Times' Neediest Cases. Did you know that under the current federal system, women do not qualify for welfare if they are in school full time? The 'workfare' system requires job-related activity, and only a few months every two years, I think, can be counted towards welfare eligibility. So then - if she works at McD's, she might be able to get benefits. If she wants to get a bachelor's degree to get a stable, better paying job with benefits, then the kids don't get fed and the bills don't get paid.

The Baltimore Sun has an article about a defendant convicted for carjacking in which the accomplice and purported triggerman was set free. There's one sentence in the article that I thought was a stupid reporter's attempt to interpret law: "Under Maryland state law, if prosecutors lose a pretrial appeal, they forfeit the entire case." I couldn't get over that one little sentence. Just a minute or two of Westlaw research affirmed that this is, in fact, true.
If the State appeals on the basis of this paragraph, and if on final appeal the decision of the trial court is affirmed, the charges against the defendant shall be dismissed in the case from which the appeal was taken. In that case, the State may not prosecute the defendant on those specific charges or on any other related charges arising out of the same incident.
HOT DAMN.

And there is an awesome article on Slate about Kowalski v. Tesmer, a Sixth Amendment case the Court decided recently. I must admit that I am absolutely ASHAMED that I had not read this opinion until today. The Sixth Amendment is my thing - I am all UP AND IN da biznass of ineffective assistance of counsel claims. (I waded through every, single, solitary Fourth and Fifth Circuit case on it last year for my note, and it just stuck. The Sixth Amendment is my favorite.) The article does a great job of demonstrating what a horrid, horrid decision this is.

Dear Blogger,

Thanks for posting those links a week late. I appreciate it. It makes me look like a complete tool, especially since I went ahead and posted them in a different post anyway, and then you posted them repeatedly. Thanks again!

Respectfully,
Womanofthelaw

The quest for employment

Yesterday, I received exciting news. The agency that I had hoped would sponsor my fellowship agreed to explore my proposal. The head honcho gave the green light to develop this proposal, as I requested, with the input of some individuals in the agency. I think that means they will ultimately be willing to sponsor me, since the only thing I'm going to do from here on out is cater my broad objectives specifically to the process as it exists in that agency. Of course, my vision of this may be drastically different from the agency's vision. Essentially, I'm asking them to allow me to advocate for their incarcerated juvenile clients in matters tangential to their actual case. For instance, concerns about the institution itself, appropriate educational placement, mental health treatment, and/or community re-entry programs. I was thrilled that they said yes! But now, the uphill battle is actually SECURING the funding. That process does not happen until late spring / early summer and is competitive.

In the meantime, I received another callback interview with another organization. The bonus is that it's in the right geographic area. Another bonus is that it's direct client work with kids. The downside is that it's not criminal work. So this is just one more example of the "happy, then sad" rollercoaster I'm experiencing with all this job stuff. I have three callback interviews to be conducted: two at public defender agencies, and one at this children's advocacy agency. So what do I do? Do I base my decision on geography? The client population (juvenile vs. adult)? Criminal vs. civil? My absolute dream job would be the aforementioned fellowship, with a transition into the agency at the termination of my fellowship. Now that I've started the process, I'd look like an ass if I backed out to take another job, and there's a really good chance that I'd apply to this agency in the future. If I were offered a job elsewhere before July, what should I do with the fellowship thing? Should I turn down any job offers and hope for the best? How in God's name could I turn down an ACTUAL job offer for the HOPE of a dream job, when I just asked my mother for the first time since I was 19 for some help to pay my heating bill?

Let's discuss for a moment the 'right geographical area' issue. I had a dream the other night that I let myself into Mr. Maybe's house one night and fell asleep in his bed. He came home later that night, drunk frmo a night out with his roommates, saw me in his bed, and slept in another room. When I woke up in his bed the next morning, I freaked out. What was I doing? Why was I there? Why did I think this was a good idea? I knew he'd be pissed at me, I knew he didn't want me there. So why did I do it? I was gathering my clothing and belongings, trying to sneak out of his room and out of his house without a confrontation - to just get away from having to hear what I didn't want to hear. But as I turned around, I saw him entering the room. "You need to give me your key," he said firmly. Just as firmly I replied, "I think that's a good idea." So he examined each of the keys on my keychain as I chatted with his roommates and caught up on what I've missed since I'd been gone. I finally snatched my keychain out of Mr. Maybe's hand and said, "it's this key," and then his roommate reminded me that there was another one as well. I turned my back on Mr. Maybe, forgetting he was even there, and just kept socializing, albeit with a twinge of awkwardness. Then I left and went to a mall, where I saw an old friend, even though it was a mall to which I'd never been before, and the dream took off in another (rated G) direction that involved a scruffy janitor and a golden retriever.

What does that mean? He wants me to turn in the key to his house. To let go of whatever it is I'm still harboring. What the hell am I still harboring? Why is it that a guy I dated for less than a month still appears in such an emotional context in my dreams on a regular basis? I know part of it is that I'm afraid that if and when I go back, it won't be nearly as fun the second time around. I fear that I depend too much on my memory of him when I think about how great it would be to live there again. The only solution would be to go to a new city. So I really should scrap this fellowship idea, shouldn't I? (It just happens to be with his agency, although it's unlikely that we'd ever run into each other for work things - our jobs shouldn't really cross). Is it really possible that I'm tricking myself into thinking that my desire to go back has nothing to do with him? How do I know that's true if the man can't fucking leave me alone in my dreams?

I suppose what I need to do right now is just relax. I don't have so much as ONE offer, so I shouldn't concern myself with the 'what offer will I take or turn down?' question. In two prior critical decisions - what law school I'd attend, and my agonizing second summer job search - things just seemed to work themselves out. Of course, that's in retrospect. At the time, I was just as anxious as I am now - but I think decisions in my life have a way of weeding themselves out. I bet by the end of all this, my choice will be clear. Maybe I've never ended up 'where I was supposed to be all along' but maybe I've just been able to find a good purpose in everything I've done. So maybe, really, there is no 'right' place for me to be. So how 'bout I just chill the fuck out?

Easier said than done. It seems as though I've managed to break out in some sort of freakish red, bumpy, scar/hive/dry skin/rash thing on, of all places, my face. It is an undetermined condition of undetermined origin. God says, "You want something to worry about? I'll give you something to worry about," and then smites me with some sort of ... thing ... and my Inner Vanity is shrieking, trying to cut a deal with said Higher Power, like, "Ok, so I swear I'll NEVER throw away recyclables again if you just make this THING go away." I went to the doctor and I now have a treatment that should make my face look worse before it makes it look better. "Come back if it's not gone in 10 days," she said. TEN DAYS?!?!?!

My day ended on a wonderful note, with a 30 minute conversation with a client. I enjoy speaking with this client. She doesn't pay her rent, heat, or electricity bills on time, if at all. This has led to a tangled series of problems. But it was so good to talk to her, dig a little deeper about what was going on, and come away with a few chuckles (i.e., the rats playing baseball in her walls). She was distressed at how bad the welfare people made her feel every time she went into the office. I felt so pleased, when I got off the phone, that I wasn't one of the people in her life that made her feel that way. I can write a letter to her landlord, reminding him of his duties to keep up the property and demanding that he do so. It doesn't particularly bother me that she owes him money. It doesn't bother me that she hasn't managed to pay her bills despite numerous assistance programs - I can still make sure that every single one of those programs is doing what they're supposed to do and providing the benefits for which she is qualified. It was great to walk out of the office at the end of the day feeling like I can make use of all this nonesensical legal knowledge while interacting with people for whom I love working.

With my medical issues, and my increasing inability to rely on my own sense of direction, I'm anxious and tired. Tonight I turned down BBQ (I know! it's unpossible!) because I had my heart set on taking a short detour to the liquor store on my way home, picking up some Bailey's, and retiring on the couch in my pink silk pjs to watch the O.C. I need some quiet space right now. Particularly since my face resembles the surface of Mars.

California, here we come...

Today's Supreme Court decisions

http://supct.law.cornell.edu/supct/

New Year's Resolution #1: Success.

NYR #1: Drink more tequila. Ex post facto NYR #1.5: Especially on Mondays.

Done aaaand done.

If I loved my friends and my life any more right this second, I'd cease to exist in a blinding flash of light.

The good and the bad.

Good: Getting internet to work AGAIN after it mysteriously broke AGAIN.
Bad: Discovering that every time I try to post from work, it doesn't happen. All those links! "posted" from work for naught!

Good: Working 9 solid, hectic hours as a legal representative of the indigent, getting paid, and not being bored. That's, like, three good things. But I'll lump it as one.
Bad: Missing health services by 15 minutes and not sending that proposal off to the agency because had no time to sit in one place, much less make an extra phone call.

Excellent: Friends returning, running into them on the street, meeting them later for drinks.
Bad: Allowing trash and various piles of dishes and recycling to remain in the kitchen long after I should have considered doing something with it because I am going out with friends.

Good: XL Mochaccino (paid for with gift cert that I won for filling out a stupid survey that actually didn't apply to me) as a moment of de-stressing
Bad: XL Mochaccino, unlike spinach and calcium, is not on list of "things that are good for your diet"

Good: Sox winning World Series 2004
Even Better: shit-talking Yankee fans (or sheep, rather. you are all sheep. Baaaah.)

Irrelevant: Beltran to Mets.
Atrocious: Mets going for Delgado, too? Sweet merciful crap. Omar Minaya = George Jr?

Ok, so let me hit you with my links that totally set my day off to a crazy start:
To try to net killer, police ask small town's men for DNA
Sgt. David Perry of the Truro Police Department and other law enforcement authorities here say that the program is voluntary but that they will pay close attention to those who refuse to provide DNA.

"We're trying to find that person who has something to hide," Sergeant Perry said.
THE OVERT, RAMPANT UNCONSTITUTIONALITY AND UTTER LAWLESSNESS RENDERS ME SPEECHLESS.

Judge stops pregnant woman from divorcing abuser
The American Civil Liberties Union and the Northwest Women's Law Center, an advocacy group in Seattle, have joined in Shawnna Hughes's appeal. If the ruling is upheld, they say, it not only amounts to discrimination, but also could establish a perverse incentive for an abusive husband to get his wife pregnant in order to force her to stay married.

And it could prompt some women to terminate their pregnancies to obtain a divorce, critics say.

Dahlia's Stand By Your Memos

Beltran could clear O's path to Delgado
Or not: Mets seek mtg with Delgado

The Advocate

oh yeah - Beltran dissed the Astros. Where will he go next?

It's a question of dignity, really.

I was going to email Mr. Maybe. I'm drawing up this fellowship proposal that involves his agency. There's a chance that my proposal duplicates services they already offer, and since I have never worked for this agency, proposing something that already exists would make me look like a total ass to the agency, thus significantly lessening my chances of obtaining a fellowship with them. So I figured, hey, I'll call him, and let him know what I'm thinking, and he can tell me whether this already exists, or what already does exist, and then my proposal will be totally kick-ass.

Tonight, I put on weather-appropriate clothing in addition to my stunning t-shirt and sweatpant ensemble and trudged over to a friend's house. After a hot bowl of stew, some dart practice, and a surprisingly enlightening and insightful conversation with two guy friends, I decided against contacting Mr. Maybe. They completely called me out on the fact that I was mixing personal issues with professional issues. I don't deny it- that's why I was seeking their feedback. I mean, if I emailed him about the job stuff, his response or lack thereof would, in my mind, reflect on the status of our acquaintanceship. If he didn't email me back, I'd be upset and insulted. If he did, but limited it to answering my questions in a cursory fashion, I'd also hate him, and would be hurt and stung by his response. If he emailed me, and included a "hey, how are you? this is what I've been up to" then I'd read far more into it than it actually means. Even more importantly, I think I need to reinforce my desire to make my next move based on reality, and what's best for me, and not some brief shred of unrivaled passion that I encountered one summer.

After coming to that conclusion and putting back a brewsky with the boys, we played some darts and I convinced them to watch "Y Tu Mama Tambien" because I've been DYING to see it. I LOVED it. GREAT MOVIE! I saw "Maria Full of Grace" today and although I liked it, I thought Y Tu Mama Tambien was better. We drank lots more red wine, played more darts, did silly and ridiculous things with internet dating sites, and had more red wine. I've missed having the type of plain old vanilla night that is just really, really good.

Blogging cliques

I can't help but notice that there are some mad crazy blog cliques in the blogs I read. Inevitably, they are formed the way friendships are formed - one blog introduces you to another, the second blog has much cooler friends, and you start hanging out on THEIR blog instead. There are a series of blogs that all seem to relate to one another, and refer to one another, write posts about one another, and sometimes they go on to create a mega-blog.

It's interesting to see virtual communities form, but there's something about it that makes me a little uncomfortable. I like that blogs are an open forum for stories, thoughts, ideas. When blogging cliques develop, it takes away from the idea that I should be a reader, because I'm not in the clique.

I defy cliques.

US Atty vs. District Atty

Odd, how the liberals begin to adopt federalism arguments when the
administration is conservative. Nevertheless, I feel very strongly that
the U.S. Attorney should not be sweeping into the community, charging
local gang members, and then using federal law to override the fact that
state law does not permit the death penalty.

This is an ongoing and bitter battle between the DA in Boston and the U.S
Attorney in Boston, as the article notes.

"A federal judge in Boston has given the government three weeks to
decide whether it will seek the death penalty against four men charged
with murdering rival gang members in a case slated for trial this
spring."

link

If you really loved me,

you'd bring me a handle of Bailey's RIGHT NOW.

A mistrial!

Brief scare when evidence discharges

Law school parodies

Returning to the law school after a semester away, I had a lot of catching
up to do. I was reading an edition of the law school newspaper and came
across some delightfully witty articles, some real, and some parody. One
of the articles that I thought was cute addressed the lunch-stealing
crisis in the law school kitchen. I've been a victim of this vicious
crime only once. I figure, for the most part, no one is into stealing
salads, or cucumbers and hummus, or tuna and celery. But someone did go
for the cukes and hummus one day, and boy was I hungry after that.
Anyway, this tongue-in-cheek article discussing posted signs, indicating
that all victims should report the date and nature of the lunch crime, and
that perpetrators would be prosecuted.

Today, I went to the kitchen to heat up some soup and lo and behold, there
were the signs in all their earnest glory. Truly it was no joke. The
Dean did actually post signs indicating how to report the theft, and
notifying all of the intent to prosecute.

It's very funny.

In addition to being amused, I'm also secretly delighted. My friend had a
soda stolen almost daily from his lunch, entire days of meals were
disappearing, and let me tell you, when you're facing a 16 hr day at the
law school and you have no food or no desire to go grab the greasy pizza
and really bad Chinese food nearby AGAIN, it makes for a bad day.

Yesterday's articles.

My internet is down, so I have to blog from work, which is not my favorite
thing to do. And I'm not going to write out the html for the links, so
here are some links that I saw yesterday and never got to post.

Courts, Abortion, and Common Sense, by George Will:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A40057-2004Dec31.html?referrer=emailarticle

Hard Time (an article on being a father and being incarcerated):
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A35010-2004Dec29.html?referrer=emailarticle

I received a second interview with one of the agencies from which I was
waiting to hear. Now I have two pending second interviews. I'm excited
that I was offered the interviews, but in the back of my mind, my desire
to go forward with the fellowship proposal that I dreamed up keeps
squishing any good feelings I have about other interviews.

Crikey.

It appears as though I will only have one scheduled class every day except
Wed, when I have class from 12:30-6:30 with only a 45 min break to haul
ass across campus for a touchy-feely course on race, language, and law
that is miraculously cross-listed in the law school. Sweet! Sadly, I
will graduate from law school, having never had less than 5 days of
classes, ever, in my life, at any school. I have one unscheduled class
that will take up a lot of time but that's fine, because it appears as
though I'll have plenty of it kicking around. I mean, assuming that I'm
not traveling in search of employment or anything.

Reflections on 2004

Favorite moments:
- Having the best. job. ever. this summer. All moments at job, including bad ones, are the best of 2004.
- Watching a week of a capital trial
- Meeting a hot young public defender in the middle of the pouring rain at a baseball game. Seeing said hot public defender a few days later, having him trick me into kissing him, seeing his two tattoos, and watching him take off his shirt to reveal a perfect, chiseled, olive-skinned body and !surprise! a nipple piercing. Yum.
- Going out to a Latin/Euro bar with summer roomie and meeting Argentinian men
- Dancing drunkenly to Bon Jovi in a small apartment
- a perfectly pleasant 25th birthday party
- seeing Kanye West perform
- walking home after a night of fancy dinner, drinks, karaoke, police, then a bar - and being intercepted by a hot Latino man who steered us into a party, then later making out with hot Latino man in the middle of undergrad party
- The Red Sox winning the World Series. and the Patriots won the Super Bowl or something

Toughest moments
- leaving the summer behind
- attending funeral
- finding permanent employment (this is bound to be a large part of 2005)
- moving every semester, away from friends and familiar surroundings

Favorite: [this took me forever to edit down]
SONG: Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs
ARTIST: Kanye West
MOVIE: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Big Fish, Love Actually
BOOK: One Hundred Years of Solitude and Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

My 'favorite' list makes me look trite. I need to develop much cooler cultural habits.

Appropriate New Year's Eve article: Drunk dialing.

Most people have pulled a drunken phone stunt at one time or another, according to a recent study by Virgin Mobile, which not so coincidentally offers, at least in Australia, a service that allows users to block the numbers of certain people during prime imbibing hours. (The feature - whose logo is a cell phone with a straw for an antenna - probably will be offered in the United States as early as next year.)


"Without embarrassment, there's no comedy," he said. "Life would be less rich."

If drunk dialing was eliminated by scheming cell phone companies, Taylor said, it "would be a loss" to the world.

Moved, again.

I'm back in my house, with my furniture, and my things. I'm glad to be
back - it feels so cozy and comfortable! I'm moving back into my old room
and I started taking things out of the closets. The closets in my room
are crumbly, and dark, but they're huge. They extend the entire length of
my room on both sides. I crammed them full of stuff before I left and now
I realize, since I haven't seen that stuff since May, that it's all junk!
I don't need any of it! I don't wear it, I don't use it, it's ripped, it
doesn't fit. I've spent the entire evening, not unpacking, but placing
clothing and books into piles of 'sell' 'donate' and 'trash. I have two
dressers in my room that used to both be packed with clothes - but now,
they're each only half full.

My car is leaking antifreeze. Again.

I'm working on some New Year's resolutions. I am constantly evaluating
and re-evaluating myself - perhaps I do so TOO much - so New Year's is
really the time to just organize them all.

A sample of the books I discovered in my closet that I started reading
long ago, left a bookmark in, and never finished:
A People's History of the United States, Zinn
On the Road, Kerouac
Other Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald

Today's iTunes investment

playing on the iPod ad nauseum: "Get Back" by Ludacris (turned waaaay up while I belt it out loudly, of course).

AAARGH.

Romney to propose death penalty bill. There are some interesting things in there - two juries, a standard of 'no doubt' instead of reasonable doubt, etc. I'm still don't like it.

Something about Christmas really brings out the rejection letters in people. I got the expected rejection letter from one incredibly prestigious fellowship and I got a less expected deferral letter from another public defender agency with whom I had, I thought, an excellent interview. The deferral letter was very nice, stating that the agency could not offer me one of the few interviews in February but would like to keep my application under consideration for their hiring process in the late spring/summer. Apparently they're trying to add 50 public defender positions. I'm still waiting to hear anything at all from at least two other places.

Dear Friend,

How are you? We don't talk as often as I wish we did. Frankly, I haven't much to say. Nothing new here, really. Still in law school. Still no job. Still not dating anyone. Family's fine.

Sometimes I think that we're growing apart, because we're embarking upon different paths. We might not be making the same choices, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're any less of a friend to me. I think it's a testament to our friendship that we still keep in touch, despite the lapses of time and differences in our life. Additionally, I'm not sure that the differences in our lives amount to all that much.

So I'm bewildered at why you seem to be hurt that I'm not spending as much time with you, or that I don't call so frequently. I'm not sure why you might think that our friendship is less important because we don't see each other or speak to each other that often. And I'm also not sure why my actions are the ones upon which are friendship are based. What our friendship means to you shouldn't be based on what I do or don't do. You can call me. You can email me. Don't leave it all to me - I can't support a friendship on my own. And I have no way of knowing when you need me or what you need from me if you don't tell me.

I hope you aren't disappointed with me, and with my distance, or my infrequent contact. You've never come out and said it, but I sense it's there. I'm not sure what I can do to change that. I do wish we spoke more often, and saw each other more often, but I understand that we're both busy. We both have routines, and we both have a 'normal' day that differ greatly from each other. I think that's ok. But if it's not, you have to tell me.

I'm proud of all that you've accomplished. I speak of you to friends that you've never met. They all marvel at the fact that I'm still even in touch with you at all. I don't understand why I wouldn't be. We've watched each other take risks, make changes, and accomplish so many things. Even if our friendship is no longer effortless, I'm ok with that. We're family. Even if I don't see you again until next Christmas, or two Christmases from now, or even if our only contact is virtual, it's fine, because I want you to know that it doesn't make you any less important to me. Not at all. You are still such a critical part of my life, in ways that I can't even begin to express. I take risks because you'll be there to debrief with me when I need it, you'll hear the story later with a sympathetic ear, and you won't judge me or say 'I told you so.' The fact that I know you're there to talk and visit, when the timing is right, makes all the difference.

So call me when you need to, or just want to. I'll answer. Or at least I promise to call you back. And I'll call you, too, just to check in. I hope it's ok that it might take a while. I'm still trying to get myself set up. But I am thinking of you, and I care about you, and that doesn't ever change.

Sucker.

My roommate introduced me to the newest member of the household this morning. She's a 6 week old puppy. She's adorable. I'm a total sucker for animals and youth, and the combination of the two is unbearable. All of my roommates are working today, but I'm moving out on Thursday, so I'm home for most of the day. My roommate told me that I could let the puppy out of the crate to go outside and do her business. Well, I got back home a few minutes ago from running some errands and she was howling and covered in poo. The crate was an absolute disaster. I cleaned it. She also peed on the living room floor. I cleaned that. She's a total cutie pie, and I'd love to keep her out of her home all day to play with me, but I'm afraid that it would get her training off to a bad start. She only stops howling when she's sleeping, so I feel like a real jerk.

I can't believe I cleaned up that much poo. Ick. I'm no good with these things. I swore this is why I could never birth my own child or have a pet other than a cat. I need things that are already potty trained. Although, I did manage to clean this little mess, so perhaps there's hope for me yet.

I like my earlier blog-writing style better. I'm making a concerted effort to return to that style.

I have five bags of toiletries, and those are the ones that I don't use. The ones I do use take up less than a bag of space.

All of my booty calls are no longer available. They all have girlfriends. And as an aside, apparently none of my platonic friends were available to find some trouble this evening, either. Sigh. So I'm filling my new iPod with music. Some guys might think that's hot. I happen to feel kind of lame about it.

I am moving on Thursday. again.

I don't own the clothes I'm wearing, and the road goes on forever.

Last Monday, my car froze shut. The lock wouldn't turn, and even the unlocked doors refused to budge. I was dressed in my gym clothes and ready to go, for I had big plans. I wanted to get my car to the garage, finish some shopping, and get the Christmas cards out. That way, I could spend Tuesday and Wednesday with family, relaxing, before going to my parents' homes on Thursday.

Shame on me for trying to plan. Clearly I was taunting fate, karma, kismet. I sat on the couch all day, obsessing about getting to the gym, trying to figure out how I was going to work out. I was so miserable and snippy, that after sniping at one friend on the phone, he called me back and calmly offered to drive me to the gym after work, drop me off, and pick me up in an hour. My mood increased 115% after that. My day finally started, at 7 pm. We decided to run by Target to get some shopping done, and when I got to the register with an armful of gifts, I realized that my debit card was in my pants, at home. And all of my credit cards had been cancelled for the lost wallet that wasn't lost, so I had no way of paying for any of them. Friend kindly offered to front the money. I hate, hate, hate taking money from people. (Don't get me wrong - I do believe that merely because I am female, I am entitled to fancy dinners and drinks from men. But that's different). He insisted. I refused. He insisted. I relented.

Then the next day, Tuesday, I was supposed to take another friend to work so he could go straight to the airport. Alas, my door stayed frozen shut until Tuesday afternoon, and so I had no means of transportation. We ended up taking his car, and it all worked out. And he also gave me the keys to his house, so I had a car and a house to use while he was gone. It was a mighty sweet ride, but all I did was drive to the gym and then to his house. Ain't no way I was going to get so much as a scratch on that car.

There are many people in my life, these two men in particular, who are my saving grace. When I was in college, I had a computer hacker that was doing some fucked up shit to my computer, sending messages to other people and making my screen go blank, then typing messages to me. I was convinced that my computer was possessed and that my hacker was coming to slit my throat. I had no idea what was going on, and I was terrified. I called friend #2, shrieking and crying hysterically. He came right over. Just two weeks ago or so, I had a mattress that miraculously did not fit anywhere it was supposed to - not in my house or in friend #1's house. Friend #2 kindly allowed me to move it into his basement indefinitely. Friend #1 lent his truck to me so I could move it. While they were moving the mattress, I joked, "I must be damned good company." With these two friends in particular, as much as I try to give, I feel like I do far too much taking.

When I was at Target, cursing repeatedly at my stupidity, Friend #1 assured me, "That's what I'm here for." He's driven me to the gym, as a matter of fact I'm on his gym membership because the single fee was too expensive; he's bought me brunch; he's dragged me to and from the airport; he cooks for me, and I drink his beer daily.
Me: "But I'm supposed to be the helper. That's what I do! I take care of other people. I can't be the helpee! I have to be the helper! I am not helpless! I do not need anyone's help!"
Him: "Yes you do. Just admit it."

I hate feeling helpless. I hate when my car doesn't work, or my cards don't work, and I'm left to the mercy of others. I've learned to cope in my own ways, but as a result of my dirt-poor upbringing, little things like that turn into huge emotional issues for me. When I'm not in control of a situation, or things don't go as planned, my only safety net (control) gets yanked out from underneath me. Particularly in issues of money - like my car. I hate feeling helpless because it reminds me that my reality is so fragile, that I could be homeless and unemployed in a second, that I have nothing to fall back on, and no one to rely on except myself.

Except, it seems, I do.

Two nights ago, I had an incredibly vivid dream. I was in some sort of dormitory common area. I lived in the dorm and had an hour to wait for someone to arrive. The part I recall most clearly is the moment at which I realized that my neighbor, a large, cut, blond-haired, blue-eyed man, had come to sit on the couch next to me. I was so sleepy, and nodded off. I was slowly waking up and realized that the neighbor and I were curled up together. He was lying against me, with his back to my chest. My arms were curled around him, and he didn't mind that my face was buried in his neck. I couldn't figure out if this had happened by accident, or if he really wanted me to be curled up against him. He was awake, and didn't mind when I moved, nuzzling my nose back into his neck and shoulders. He didn't move at all, he stayed strong, not shifting, or pulling away. In my dream, I was still sleepy, and while I was falling back asleep I was trying to come up with the word to describe how warm and happy I felt at that moment, and why I was so content. When I drifted off, I finally found the word I was trying to come up with - unwavering. My handsome blond was unwavering - he was strong, I felt safe and protected, and he made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere. When I actually woke up from this dream, that deep feeling of contentment stayed with me the rest of the day.

I work hard in positions that demand a lot from me, and I'm relentlessly working to help other people, most of whom also believe that they don't need help. And I try to work tirelessly until the work is done, until I've shown them that I respect them, that sometimes life just deals us a bad hand, and that my help isn't charity - it's genuine concern for them as the strong, amazing individuals that they are.
As much as I say that I don't want to rely on anyone else, the truth is, I rely so heavily on the people in my life. The key element of my perfect mate will be an individual who takes care of me, who can hold me up when I'm feeling vulnerable and just too tired to do it on my own anymore, but who doesn't make me feel like I'm less capable or intelligent. I've been looking for men like this my entire life. I want someone who will take care of me, someone who won't be ripped out from under my feet, someone who makes me feel like I can finally put down my weary load at the end of the day without losing face.

I guess I'm slowly coming to realize how much those roles are already filled by other people in my life. Particularly by these two male friends. Every time I think about moving somewhere completely different, and trying something new, or striking out on a difficult career path, my thoughts are based on an unconscious assumption that I'm strong enough to do it, because if it doesn't work out, I have places to which I can retreat. I can go back to my high school and college friends and regroup, because they know who I am and how I feel without me having to say a word. I can return to my law school friends and be welcomed with open arms and rowdy dinner parties with bottles of wine and a home-cooked meal. Karaoke and violent Trivial Pursuit optional. My dreams about moving away and starting over are tempered by my fears that I'll lose these connections if I do move. I am now fully realizing how much I need to let the people in my life know how much they mean to me, the specific and particular roles that each one plays in my life. As much as I try to give as a friend, to be there, to remember important days and events, I fear that maybe I'm taking too much. I'm never afraid to reach out for a sympathetic ear when I'm feeling upset or unsure of myself, and there's a chance that maybe my friends don't realize that it's important for me to be a sympathetic ear to them as well.

I adore my two darling, unwavering male friends. Perhaps it's almost bearable that this morning, my car froze open instead of shut. I didn't lock any doors, knowing that they freeze, and I treated the rubber around the doors with a silicon spray. Nevertheless, the driver's side lock must be frozen, because it won't latch closed now, and the door remains shut only through the grace and genius of a rigged bungee cord. And it's good to know that at least one of them, if I bitch long enough, will drive me to the gym.

After my bestlawschoolfriend's brother's death, I went looking for some stationery to write her a long letter about how I was feeling and how much I cared for her. I think my New Year's Resolution will be try to do that for other friends. Probably mostly the female ones, since the guys don't do so well with things like that. It's probably safe to say that my friends don't realize how my strength in my work and everyday life comes from their presence in my life. I think it's important that they should know. I'm going to continue seeking out my unwavering Adonis, but until then, I have far too many other people and things to put my energy towards.

Dahlia comments on Alberto Gonzales as a candidate for Attorney General.

How did this happen?

Today, I:
Went to the gym
Mourned the loss of my beautiful, personalized, orange Nalgene bottle (R.I.P.)
Ate some of the kick-ass butternut squash and sweet potato soup that I made
Drank beer, ate leftovers from last night's dinner party, and watched episodes from the first season of "The O.C." Many of them. All afternoon.

Yes, you read that correctly. I was forced, against my principles, to watch The O.C. two weeks ago. And then last week I watched it because I REALLY WANTED TO. And then I spotted the first season of the O.C. at a friend's house and borrowed it. It's like crack, that show. I have about 5 more discs to get through though, and not nearly enough time! Argh!

Oh, and can we note that in the past two weeks I have lost 1. my wallet 2. my dangly earring 3. my favorite ring that I coveted and lurked around and finally bought when it was on absolute clearance discount at the uber-hip jewelry store and 4. the Nalgene bottle I've had for 5 years now, the only container from which I ever drink water which doubled as a 'purse' in law school when I clipped my key ring/wallet to it? HOW DOES ONE LOSE A GODDAMN NALGENE BOTTLE?!?!

I never lose shit. How am I such a basket case? And why, why the ring and the Nalgene bottle? Now I'm going to be uncool and dehydrated.

P.S. I'm humming the theme to The O.C. and it's making me happy. Similar to the way that the theme song of Sex and the City used to take me to a happy place, from about 1999 until the last episode last year. California, here we come...

Double your fun.

The Forbidden Fruit - the roommate of a friend that I secretly covet - has a twin. An identical twin. Who, last I knew, was not in a committed relationship. Now, I saw him maybe once in passing, but I've never been introduced, and secretly I had been hoping to meet him or get set up with him (months ago). Friend was going to work that for me, but it never happened. I long ago forgot about Twin until tonight. When he showed up at dinner. And he's identical. and cute. and nice. and he talked to me. and then he left.

But seriously. A twin. That's fucking awesome.

VA bills: increase scope of death penalty, sue gangs.

Legal Aid Society avoids bankruptcy

MPRE scores

I've noticed a lot of people getting to my site with the search term "fail MPRE." I figured I should respond to this, although I am not sure exactly how.

First off, the wonderful thing about the MPRE is that you can take it again. No one wants to, I'm sure. It's a miserable test. I finished it in an hour and left not knowing whether I had answered one single question correctly. I hated it.

If you haven't taken the MPRE, but are looking for hints: study for it. Take the BarBri or some other prep course, where they hand you a book of the essentials, take the practice exams, and hope for the best. You should start studying at least a week in advance - I picked up the book exactly one week in advance and just took a practice test every night before the exam, trying to learn what was on it. Perhaps this isn't the ideal way to 'learn' but trust me, the MPRE is not a test based on what you 'learn' - it's a test based on how you take tests.

I suppose the other option is always to sit for a bar in another state with a lower required MPRE score. My roommate has a theory that the MPRE, because it is scaled, actually scales you according to your ethical abilities to practice in each state. For instance, if you receive one point below the required MPRE score for say, New York, but it exceeds the requirement for Nebraska, what the MPRE did was test you and say, "Well, he's not ethical enough to practice in New York, but definitely ethical enough for Nebraska. Let's assign him this score." I think it's an amusing theory.

I'm fortunate enough to have the opportunity to attend a prestigious law school. Let me assure you, there are people everywhere who fail the MPRE. I know several people who didn't pass their first time. The MPRE, which is the same for the bar exam, I'm told, is failed only if 1. you didn't prepare or 2. have difficulty with multiple choice tests. Or both. The only hint I have for the multiple choice thing is, read the answers first, then read the question, then eliminate two obviously wrong answers. This is what Princeton Review teaches you for the SATs and LSATs, and it works.

You're without a doubt more ethical than the MPRE says you are. Ethics for lawyers by lawyers is screwed from the start. Don't worry, you'll be fine.

Lonely Saturday night. What do I do now?

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

I covet the boyfriend of another. He's a roommate of a friend, and I
see him from time to time. And he's fun, easy-going, smart, and cute.
His girlfriend is very attractive - long red shiny curly hair
cascading down her back, a little shorter than me, great physique, and
incredibly hip and stylish. I have only met her once. She was
friendly, smart, a social organizer, likes cooking for friends. All
of the things that I thought I did until I met her, then I realized
that I was playing JV to her varsity. Le sigh. Anyway, I saw him
last night, and proceeded to have a night full of PG-rated but lovely
dreams about him. He touched my side, briefly, last night, to which I
responded, "Yes I will sleep with you." Well, ok, I didn't say it out
loud, but I was thinking it.

I woke up this morning on not nearly enough sleep and realized I had
missed a call at 1 a.m. There was a message from a friend agreeing
with my plan to get a hotel room tonight close to the funeral
services. I panic. I haven't planned to leave work early (I told my
boss, who asked me yesterday, that I'd be here all day), I had planned
on washing an outfit tonight, the weather was supposed to be bad, I
haven't packed, I don't even have a credit card to reserve a room on,
since all of my are cancelled. And then I remembered that tomorrow
night I have plans to take a friend out for her birthday, I made her
PROMISE that she would be available because I haven't seen her in
AGES.

I do realize that my role, the role that I've assigned myself, is the
role of planner and organizer. That's what I do. I organize, I make
sure everyone knows what's going on, and knows where to be, etc. Not
that anyone else needs me to do this - but it's something I do, and my
friends let me. But seriously people. CAN I GET MORE THAN 8 HOURS
NOTICE? Sheeeeeit. I packed (or threw clothing in a pile on top of)
my suitcase this morning just in case I need to leave as soon as I got
home, checked the weather (looks ok), packed my lunch, remembered the
3 weeks late thank-you letter to send out, and dashed out the door to
work, where I will spend the day trying to make these arrangements
while finishing up my work.

I haven't completely lost my mind yet, but I was a little thrown off
this morning. I purchased my coffee and bagel this morning and tried
reading the news online, but people are stopping by to chat, I had a
friend call (he said nice things - could it be that people actually
miss me?), and so my morning has just been really really fragmented.
I need a 30 min chunk of time to just organize my thoughts. I need to
make lists. Something.

Bailey's on the rocks. That's what I need.

WE GOT RENTERIA!

http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=1946831

Is it a full moon? Are the stars in some bizarre alignment? What the
hell is going on today? Confrontations with friends, completely
out-of-the-blue phone call from a public defender office in northern
Georgia, and a verdict in the homicide case I've been watching. I
don't even know how to begin to process all this. I'm practically
leaping out of my skin.

I do my best processing with my hands on my keyboard. I should really
buy a journal - you'd be subjected to much less babbling.

As for the verdict - it was what I had originally predicted, although,
in light of some recent juror misconduct, I had my doubts going in.
Of the five counts against each defendant, they were each convicted of
one. I don't want to betray my defense roots, but I do believe that
the verdict was fair. I didn't go to the verdict because I wanted to
see a conviction - I went because I wanted to see for myself what a
verdict looks and feels like. I know, my "feelings" ramblings are
very non-legal. But, like Blonde Justice, my work isn't about the
cutting edge legal theory, or the concept of law itself - it's about
the individuals who get trapped in it. I think it's absolutely
critical for me to go into these experiences open to absorbing and
sensing the raw emotion of it all. And I think I did. The deceased's
family ran into the courtroom seconds before the verdict was read.
The courtroom was packed. The tension was unbelievable. There were
at least a dozen court officers standing along the bar. At the first
two "not guilty" verdicts, the deceased's wife was visibly upset.
Then the guilty verdict was announced on one of the counts. The
defendant's wife and mother began sobbing violently, although not
loudly. Then the second defendant was convicted on one of the last
counts read. The deceased's wife looked relieved. Then, brief
arguments were heard in regards to bail. The bail was revoked (both
defendants have been out for 5 years) and when they were ordered into
custody, and took off their jackets, and had the cuffs slapped on
their wrists, that's when it all went to hell. The mother passed out,
the wife was just hysterical and bewildered, and the defendants'
family was livid. One of the defendants' family members started
yelling outside the courtroom when it was over.

One of the ADAs that I've done the most work for this semester
recalled a probation revocation hearing he did some years ago. The
defendant's probation was revoked and the family was crying, yelling,
"Are you happy now? Now that you won?" He told me that he never
feels like he has won. There are no winners in the courtroom. I
think he's right. Seeing what I saw today makes me feel that way.

I'm sure it doesn't feel the same in say, drug possession cases.
There's a difference between the 'malum in se' crimes vs. the 'malum
prohibitum crimes.

Then I went to the grocery store because gay friend Will offered to
make me dinner. I was going to provide the salad and the wine. The
butternut squash was on sale, which was great because I've been dying
to make this killer recipte for butternut squash and sweet potato
soup. I picked up squash, sweet potatoes, an apple (the recipe calls
for it), plus three yogurts for fun, the trappings for salad, and a
magazine to read at the gym. I reach into my pocketbook at the
register and... my wallet is not there. At all. I can't pay, so I
run to my car. Wallet's not there. My wallet NEVER leaves my purse.
I rush home. Wallet's not there. I've never had my wallet stolen
before, and I know I had it when I got home before I left for the
grocery store. So I called and cancelled all my credit cards. As I
was on the phone with the bank cancelling my card, I found my wallet,
somehow kicked into the dark corner of the laundry room downstairs.
Argh.

So I had dinner, and calmed down. Drank some red wine. Will's
roommate J joined us, cooking dinner for himself and his girlfriend T,
who happens to be a coworker of Will's. Will brought down a pile of
stocking stuffers he didn't want - combs, CD cases, etc. He went
through each item one by one, and right before he got to the last
item, his phone rang. He left the room to go answer it, and so I
poked at the last item in his pile. It was a talking picture
frame/alarm clock. I thought I would be funny and take it out of the
wrapper, record a message for Will, and then put it back, to trick
Will into playing the message, thinking it had come right out of the
box like that. I recorded the message, and J and I joked about the
picture that came with the frame. I put the frame away, and a few
minutes later T came over, sat down, and said, "Did you see what
Will's godson gave him? He recorded his voice on the alarm clock
frame." I froze. No way. I totally recorded over it, thinking that
Will was trying to give away the stocking stuffers the way he had
given away the rest of them. FUCK. I got totally busted.

Today has just been nutty.

Could I go to Georgia?

Peterson case

A friend pointed out that he had expected me to discuss or put up a
link regarding the Scott Peterson case. I, frankly, hadn't really
planned on doing much more than mentioning, as I did yesterday, that
it was bizarre to hear ADAs cheering the decision. Why? Because I
think this trial is no different, legally speaking, from the thousands
of other trials that run through the court system every day. The only
difference is that this case was hyped. I'm not sure what there is to
say about it. Everyone knows the jury recommended death - I don't
have to bring that to anyone's attention. I categorically oppose the
death penalty. I think it's inhumane that people are cheering for the
fact that they heard their fellow human beings determine that a human
being must be killed. Why? Does it bring back the already deceased?
No. Will it provide closure to the victim's family? No - and as a
matter of fact, there is substantial literature and research regarding
victim's families who say that after the defendant is executed,
they're surprised to discover that it doesn't help at all. How has
society improved as a result of this recommendation? And why does our
country believe that state-sanctioned killing is the answer? I think
the members of the jury should have to watch the execution, if not
'push the button' or 'pull the switch.' How rewarding is it to watch
someone die? Isn't that why Scott Peterson is on trial on the first
place? Because he had no right to kill his wife, and the jury found
that he did? Why does a randomly selected panel of 12 people make it
better than the decision of 1 random person? Death is death. Killing
a human being at the hands of another is just that, no matter how you
slice it. You've all been subjected to my struggles with death
recently - guns and violence in this homicide trial, my friend's
brother, the death penalty in general. I have more faith in people
than all this.

I don't know if he did it or not. I didn't sit through months of
circumstantial evidence. I didn't convict and then condemn a man to
death for his absence of emotion (ah yes, Tom, "The Stranger"?)... I
think that Peterson, it seemed, had a great defense team, should have
had a different jury for sentencing than he did for conviction if for
no other reason than the fact that the attorney sort of had to argue
inconsistent theories (he didn't do it; ok, well at least don't kill
him for it then....) and that's pretty much it. An eye for an eye
leaves the whole world blind.

This breaks my heart: Boy gets 'juvie life'
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A62414-2004Dec13.html

Missouri's juvenile justice system a model for Maryland?

Teen acquitted of murder

I was surprised to hear shouts of delight from the offices around me today when the Peterson 'verdict' came down. It's been a long time since I've been around people who support the death penalty. And the ADAs for whom I primarily work know that I'm an aspiring public defender, so they usually temper their comments around me. It made me feel uncomfortable, actually. To say "I'm against the death penalty" in the middle of a cheering group of ADAs is what I imagine a Jehovah's Witness feels like in the middle of a holiday parade. I can't wait to surround myself with defenders again.

Breaking news

The Peterson verdict is in.

Rumor: Pedro to go to Mets for 4 yrs, $50 mill. Manny might not be
far behind him. *sigh*

at a loss

Spent another $700 on my car yesterday. Visited family I haven't seen in years. Roomie from this summer was not rejected from our summer agency, I'm happy for her.

Was notified that bestest friend and roommate from law school's little brother died. Other roommate called me earlier to let me know.

I'm just not sure how to feel right now. I'm in shock that I'm going to watch another dear friend bury another younger sibling. I couldn't call her after I found out - I was too shocked. It took me five hours, 3 miles on the treadmill, and finally, a voicemail from her asking me to call her... to actually call her. When I talked to her, I lost it. I started crying, hard. Which is really helpful, clearly, because then it got her crying. But I'm glad I got to talk to her, and I hate that I'm not near her. She's like a sister to me, and I know her family. I know her brother. I was in shock at first, then I got jittery, then I started getting really upset and almost asphyxiated on the treadmill while trying not to sob out loud, and now I'm just exhausted. I'm not there to help. There's nothing I can do to help. I'm driving the 8-9 hours roundtrip to attend the service this week. Don't know what day, or if my internship will mind me taking a day or two, but don't care.

It got me thinking about the other instances of death in my life. I've rarely encountered it - it's generally been relatives with whom I'm not particularly close (which is most of them) or family members of close friends. My great uncle. A friend from college buried her young brother about 5 years ago. My cousin died at birth. A 14 yr old girl who was at the detention center this summer was released into the community, then found, fatally shot, in a car - two young men who know something about it aren't talking. Another young man who left the center right after I arrived was killed right after I left. I'm thinking back to the homicide case in which we're still awaiting a verdict, and recalling what it felt like to hear a 911 caller narrate the deceased's final moments, while his wife cried silently in the courtroom. All of these things are compounding, becoming one knot in my chest. My eyes are burning. I can feel myself shutting down. If there had been any sliver of hope for me to shake off this semester-long funk, it disappeared today.

My weekend has caused me to strongly reconsider whether I'm willing to go so far away anymore. I hate being this far away right now, I can't imagine being even further away from the people I care about. Things seem kinda crappy the way they are - until they aren't that way anymore, and you'd give anything to get it back to the former crappy way.

Brings a tear to my eye: Victim's mother seeks court mercy for teen

Yuck. Sox reportedly offer Wells a one-year deal. (did I ever tell you that I met Ian Browne? He rocked my goddamn world.)

O's make Pavano an offer. I'd really like to see the O's do well.

Making her case for mercy

Texas man executed on disproved forensics - link from How Appealing

Still no verdict on that homicide case yet - jury's been deliberating for almost a week. Maybe tomorrow will be the big day...

My job is boring as hell again. I have baseball off-season to keep me entertained though. Nomar's with Chicago one more year. Troy Glaus went to the D-backs, the LA Dodgers signed Jeff Kent, and the Sox met with Pedro in an airport. Classy.

A day in the life of an intern:
9:00 am - arrive at office. sometimes later, if the subway is running kooky, which is almost always the case.
9:00 - 11:00 - check email, news, sports, and work-appropriate blogs
11:00 - 12:00 - reluctantly work, checking news pages and 3 email accounts every 3.2 minutes.
12:00 - 1:00 think about lunch while surfing web
1:00 - 2:00 eat lunch
2:00 - 3:30 - work while fighting off urge to nap while surfing web
3:30 - snack break
3:30 - 5:00 think about dinner while surfing web
5:00 leave.

One more week and I'm through with the dark side!

Good night.

and now, I've crawled into my pink silk Victoria's Secret pjs after a long, very cold, rainy, windy day, and I've crawled under my down comforter, and I'm going to lie in the dark under my skylight, listening to the cold rain hit the windows, while I freak the fuck out about what I'm going to do with the rest of my life.

DC Foster Children Get a Boost

This article is about a judge in Maryland who decided that she would not hear victim impact testimony before she decided whether to administer the death penalty. The judge decided this because the statutory factors that must be present to sentence someone to death do not include impact on the victim's family - and in one of my entries last week, I linked to a Slate article that discussed the same question. This article states that the judge reversed herself and has decided to hear the victim impact evidence.

"Money bleaches" - A look at how Latinos see themselves.

NY scales back on draconian drug laws

and my main man Kanye West scored 10 Grammy nominations. It's a great CD, I'd highly recommend it.

unraveling.

I had a very vivid dream last night. What I remember from the dream is that I received a call from a fellow summer intern, and I was going to go pick him up from the rural part of the state (why was he staying there? because his home 8 states over burned down. go fig.) and bring him to hang out with me in the big city. However, I was deterred from doing so in a series of events that involved a tall, nicely built, dark-haired, dark-eyed, fair-skinned mysterious dreamboat who was madly in love with me, assertive but not aggressive, smart but not nerdy or cocky, appropriately social, a rich consultant/businessman turned inner-city teacher (because he was passionate about working with kids) and possessed peanut butter cup ice cream that somehow, miraculously, was not all that fattening. (It's great that the two things I appear to desire most in life are 1. The Perfect Man and 2. The Perfect Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream. I don't deny it.)

The dream also involved a baby that needed an IV and an unknown friend's mother calling me asking me to purchase all the Diet Coke in the area and deliver it to her. I was growing increasingly tired, after attending to my dreamboat, then the baby, who needed me to get a particular individual that I had to hunt down all throughout the city but was in the room all along, and then I was trying to drive someone that I've never actually met in real life to meet friends, and all while I was supposed to be going to pick up this guy in another part of the state.

I think the dream about my friend was related to the fact that he called me the day before Thanksgiving and I never returned his call. I thought about it, but didn't. I know him well enough to know that if he called, it was probably job related. If it was job related, then it was probably about the agency we worked for this summer. If it was, then he probably got another interview, and since I hadn't
heard from them, it's safe to assume that I didn't get the final interview. So I delayed contacting him. I emailed him this morning. I also emailed the other intern who worked with us and she got an AWESOME and very prestigious fellowship doing the type of work that I'd love to be doing - but she also received her rejection letter from our agency yesterday. Which means mine should arrive today or tomorrow.

Which means that I will now have two rejection letters and no offer letters.

Sometimes I go through my day feeling like I have everything completely under control. I felt that way when I left my house this morning. Then my umbrella broke, I remembered that I left the heat on in my room (bad idea, it's a sketchy heater), a button fell off my pants, and I have no reason to be at work today as the motion hearing that was scheduled will be rescheduled because the attorney is out sick. I should've played hooky with Will, like he suggested, and joined him in Christmas shopping. Seriously.

At least I can start my Wall of Shame now. Two of my friends from law school did that last year - they covered the wall behind their dartboard with rejection letters from firms. And there are many of them.

My employment anxiety is increasing exponentially with every passing week.

Just got off the phone from interview #2 with the capital trial
fellowship place. Keep your fingers crossed. I adore the man with
whom I interviewed (not once, but twice). I'm pretty sure I sounded
like an ass, but might have had a nugget or two of insight. I hope.

What I bought my Dad for Christmas

A hamster dressed as a NASCAR guy, with sunglasses, holding a green flag, that shimmies and sings "Born to be Wild" when you squeeze his little pink foot: $14 at Target

Look of horror on gay male friend's face when I bought it: priceless

Fraying at the ends

I'm at work, currently trying to make this response to a motion to
suppress WORK. Right now it's a messy conglomeration of, "probable
cause" and "in the alternative, reasonable suspicion" for two
different searches, one involving two people and one involving just
one of them - and damned if I can't figure out why it is, in my head,
I think the first one has PC and the second one doesn't? It's a mess.
It's a disaster. And it's tomorrow.

Trial style

I have a few more observations about the trial I watched for the past 3-4 weeks. First, the defense team introduced the 911 tapes. Counterintuitive, isn't it? But it's the most dramatic piece of evidence in a courtroom. On Friday, at the close of the defense case, they played the 911 tapes. I've heard worse - like a mother screaming into the phone when she saw that her 3 year old child got shot in the head - absolutely chilling. But this one was mostly reported by people who heard shots on the street, people who didn't see anything, or couldn't see anything. Then there was the one phone call where the woman said, "No, I can't see anyone hurt - wait - ohmygod, there's someone lying in the street. There's a man lying in the street!" and as the woman's voice continued to reflect what it's like to realize, and see, that someone was shot dead, everyone looked at the deceased's wife. She had her left hand on the side of her face, and she was crying, quietly. By herself. The defendants have wonderful support in their family - but the widow, with only a few family members around her, cried alone. Listening to the tape, seeing one of the defendants cry, seeing the widow cry, and watching the defendants' family watch her, tears came to my eyes. I couldn't stop wondering why people do this to each other. I've heard a lot of testimony on how a firearm works - what a round of ammunition is, how it is ignited and projected, the difference between a revolver and a semi-automatic, . It all sounds so cold and scientific. But this is what it is. It's a widow, two defendants, and two families changed forever. Why do human beings do this to each other? How are people capable of such brutal and violent acts on one another? Why doesn't anyone care? Sitting in the packed-full courtroom listening to that one woman's voice describe the man lying alone in the middle of the street, seeing defendant and victim's wife cry, I closed my eyes and wished away all the guns in the world. Anything capable of doing that much harm to a human being makes me ill. I wish handguns were never invented. No one benefits. And the idea of arming everyone (CDog)? Bad idea. The defense story in this case is that everyone WAS armed - and someone died. The prosecution's story is that the defendants and one friend of the victim's were armed - but still, someone's dead. It solved nothing at all. For a moment, I felt the agony in the room - a single bullet through the chest, hemorrhaging, fatality. Not copper, lead, and gunpowder, but a father, brother, son, husband gone forever, and two defendants and two families that will never be the same again.

My second comment is to the styles of the attorneys in the case. In the beginning, one defense attorney annoyed me so much that I could hardly stand to sit through his questioning. The other defense attorney I'd seen before, and I thought his style was fine. That's all changed now, at the end. The second defense attorney is either a terrible actor or completely unhinged. He's very smart - I admire his strategies and his legal skill. But he YELLS. He seems to yell when he's making a point - but not because he got riled up to the point. He will just suddenly and without warning start shrieking. It's very disconcerting, very made-for-TV courtroom drama. It makes me quite uncomfortable. I watched him on a few occasions yell at the judge during motions hearings on the case, and I watched him get in a yelling argument with one of the prosecution's witnesses, while the witness was on the stand, in front of the jury, for quite some time. If I were that judge, I would've shut that man down within the first five minutes. I thought the attorney was being disrespectful by yelling like that. Again, it wasn't that he worked himself up through an argument, but he was just yelling at the judge. If I had been in the black robe, I would have said quietly and firmly, "Excuse me, Mr. {yelling attorney}. this is my courtroom and I have no tolerance for such behavior. I do not yell at you during the course of your job and would appreciate that you not yell at me in the course of mine. For the sake of your client I would suggest that you pull yourself the fuck together, sit down, and shut up, or leave my courtroom."

For instance, after he admitted the 911 tapes into evidence, he realized that it included the dispatch recording as well, which he didn't want in evidence (because it was prejudicial to his client). He started glaring at everyone in the courtroom and shrieked, "I WILL NOT BE TRICKED!" Turns out, the prosecutor stated that he didn't see why the tapes needed to be replaced with the one of just the 911 recording - it had already been admitted into evidence, no need to change it now. The defense attorney LOST IT. He screamed at the judge, grew red-faced, was practically foaming at the mouth. The judge firmly insisted that the attorney calm down, take a breath, no need for him to get so upset because it would interfere with his closing argument. [For the judge to be that assertive is significant - he seems to be a pretty mellow judge]. To which the attorney, still either pretending to be in an utter rage or really being an absolute NUT, paced frantically and said loudly and emphatically, "Yes you're right, judge, this absolutely will inhibit my ability to deliver my closing argument." The prosecutor got up and basically said, if he's going to throw a fit like that, replace the fucking tape, for the love of Christ. Then the defense attorney sweetly stood up and apologized for his outburst. It's the first time I've seen him apologize for it, and clearly his outburst was effective because it got him what he wanted, but sweet lord. I think his credibility with the jury, certainly with me, would be much better if he stopped shooting for the daytime Emmy. It's not difficult to get the sense, when he randomly starts shrieking, that it's an act, that it's insincere. I think he's a very clever attorney, but the yelling... Please. Stop. I certainly learned what kind of style I'd like to [not] develop myself. I wonder how much of it is done for his client and the client's large family watching the trial - it demonstrates to them that he's zealous, certainly. Perhaps he's trying to make them feel like they're getting their money's worth.

Third, a juror slipped the judge a note with a question. The prosecution offered one rebuttal witness - the detective on the case - to rebut the defense expert's testimony. There were just a few rebuttal questions, but the juror noticed that the detective had been in the courtroom during the expert's testimony and asked the judge about it. The judge addressed the issue with the attorneys. The prosecutor stated that he sensed the juror felt like detective had an unfair advantage, and could the judge just give a general response about the fact that there are some circumstances in which the sequestration isn't necessary. The defense attorneys stated nonchalantly that they didn't see a reason for the judge to respond. And he didn't. Then the Yeller used it in his closing - something like, "Well Detective XY sat here through Expert's testimony and then came back to say..." Oooooh. Playing on the jury's doubts like that... dirty, dirty, dirty. I don't think I would've thought to use it in a closing, but you can bet I'll be doing that if the occasion ever arises.

Fourth, there has to be a conflict of interest here. One defendant is more culpable than the other, but the defense didn't address that issue at all. Perhaps because it's clear - one defendant shot and the other didn't - and they are both facing the same charges. But it seems as though this could be detrimental to the defense of the less culpable defendant. And actually, the more culpable defendant testified, and his testimony contradicted a prosecution's witness that was favorable to the co-defendant. Ouch. The Yeller took care a lot of the expert and police investigation parts of the case, and the other attorney did more of the issues with factual witnesses and their credibility. They even divided it up like that in closings. I am sure that the defendants and the defendants' family wouldn't want it otherwise, but really, the less culpable defendant could potentially be getting the shit end here. I think the attorneys did a great job of balancing, to the extent possible, the conflicts and [presumed] wishes of their clients, but wow. I don't even know how it's possible to resolve a conflict like that.

Now we wait for the verdict. I would really like to be in the courtroom when it happens, because it will no doubt be very, very dramatic.

Rulings in Texas capital cases try Supreme Court's patience
"In another episode widely perceived as an embarrassment, Roy Criner, a prison inmate serving 99 years for the rape and murder of a 16-year-old girl that he insisted he had never committed, successfully petitioned for a DNA test not available during his trial. The test determined that the semen in the victim was not his. A second test produced the same result.
The trial court asked the criminal appeals court to order a new trial, but with Judge Keller prominently in the majority, it voted 6-3 to let the conviction stand. Gov. George W. Bush, then running for the White House, granted Mr. Criner clemency. "It's pretty bad when you have to go to Governor Bush for relief," said James Marcus, executive director of the Texas Defender Service."

R.I.P., dangly earring.

I'm under the influence of merlot and tequila. Now's the time to leave if you're looking for something thoughtful and coherent.

What's worse than losing your favorite pair of earrings? Losing one of the earrings in your favorite pair. I just arrived home, thinking, 'well gee, tonight wasn't a total loss' and when I looked in the mirror, I discovered I was missing an earring. A long, dangly, recently purchased, chandelier-sounding earring. I am so upset by this that I am absolutely going out tomorrow and buying another pair, if they still exist. There is no other way to cure this. I must have them. And that way, if I lose another one, then i'll be left with a pair.

I'm on a hiatus from men, more commonly known as a "guy-atus." Not just a hiatus from dating men, but from all men. I wore the same clothes I wore to work today, as though to prove that I do not want to look nice when I go out. (last week that failed, when I dressed in unflattering pants, a plain t-shirt, and crappy shoes, because when I walked into the bar, my friend said, "wow. you look nice tonight.") I even wore an undshirt under a typical booby shirt! No cleavage - the 'girls' are staying in tonight. Tonight and many other nights for a long while. I'm not bitter. For instance, I missed 'Joan of Arcadia' this evening. I had a wonderful dinner, so perhaps missing Joan of Arcadia was ok. But the club afterwards was only good for a little while. I'm still deaf. A friend of mine held up her drink straw (those little teeny black ones) and said to another friend, "You only get dates in this club if you are this size." Then we both downed our drinks while our male friend [wrongly] disagreed.

So why the guy-atus? Let's start with the most recent altercation. You all but came out and told me that I'm the type of girl you'd sleep with but not the type of girl you'd ever date. The mistake was believing for half a second that maybe, just maybe, the men that have flirted with me or dated me in the past few months weren't just an accident, and that maybe I was something worth dating. You reminded me that it really was all just an accident. And that right there was a brutal kick in the ass, something that took me days of anger, shame, and lots of reflection to move past. I moved past it when I realized that I don't have any regrets about any decisions I've made in my life. I love being an aspiring attorney, I love being crazy enough to say that working in a youth prison was the best thing I've ever done, I love where I've been, who I've met, who I've loved, who I've kissed without loving, and what I've done. Every minute of it, I love, even the bad minutes. Stop making me feel like there's something wrong with that.

And the one before that? Couldn't stand his company for more than 5 seconds. And the one before that? homeless. so then. Here we are. I attract homeless men. Oh, and the guy at the bar this evening that was wearing bad glasses and a white sweater with tapered-leg jeans. I should've stuck around to talk to him though, because at least he was good conversation. It says something about me, that the only men who ever talk to me are homeless or really nerdy. And yet I walk away after only a cursory conversation because I figure, nah. Not someone I'd be interested in. But is that true? Don't I get pissed when men think that about me? And how do I know that they aren't funny, and kind, and smart, and have a great body (under really bad fashion?)? I hate me. I left the club (early) to go on to lose my darling dangly earring (I suspect it's on the subway, my nemesis), and started text messaging friends from law school like I'm a 13 yr old girl. I can't wait to go back!

I did have a good time tonight. I'm glad I went. But I do believe that my 20s are whizzing by far too quickly to be this uneventful.

I could tell you about

- the defendants' friend that struck up a friendly conversation with me yesterday, dropping the line, "I'm not married," casually into conversation;

- the man in court yesterday who tried to get my attention and then, when he did, gave his sexy little wink/nod - he was still sleeping on the court bench 6 hours later (I have quite a way with homeless men, apparently);

- how not one of my friends has returned my calls in over two weeks, even the ones that I've called, emailed, called, and emailed again;

- how I watched my potential dream fellowship job disintegrate before my eyes;

- learning how many more of my friends are either engaged or about to become engaged, exponentially increasing my desire to bolt the fuck out of here, never to return ever again.

But instead, I'll say: Dahlia has a very thought-provoking article on the penalty phase of capital trials.