Loan Consolidation Hell Part II

I underestimated the total amount of my loans, by the way. Oh yes, THERE ARE MORE. It has become clear to me that I will never lead a life as decadent as the life I led in law school.

If I don't get LRAP funding, I will be hanging my prestigious law school degree on the wall of a cardboard box. I would live in my car, but that's about to die too.

I've spent all morning trying to figure out what information this federal direct loan consolidation app was asking of me. I don't know the servicer, lender, or guaranty agency of every single loan (and don't forget that every year is technically a new federal loan!) and hell if I can figure out where my undergrad loans are. It's my own goddamn fault, but this is really confusing. I finally gave up, again, and I think I'm going to heed Allison's advice. I'm a firm believer in the do-it-yourself method - if I can apply to consolidate my federal loans directly with the federal government, I'm reluctant to get a middleman agency involved because I believe that it somehow creates more paperwork and will cost me more money. I don't know whether this is actually true or not. I also used to do my own taxes, on paper, until two years ago when I broke down and got TurboTax because I couldn't believe that I actually qualified for the tax breaks that I had calculated for myself (but it was true). Slowly I'm starting to realize that my aspirations of tackling government bureaucracy by myself are silly, and to hell with it. I need help with this.

Anyway, I consolidated my undergrad loans with a small local organization back in the day, and since they currently have that loan, I think they will let me consolidate my law school loans with them too. I emailed them a "Please help me!" email and asked if they would be able to sit down with me and sort through all of this. They've been pretty helpful thus far, I hope they will help me. This whole thing has me so stressed out that I am incapable of doing anything right this second. I had to take out some Whiskeytown tunes, drink some coffee, and blog. These are my coping mechanisms.

This has taken up so much of my time and energy this morning that I have completely disregarded BarBri's strict bar studying plan method thing and have done nothing. This bar studying stuff is OVERWHELMING. So much info, so few brain cells willing to accept new information. As a matter of fact, yesterday after my bar review course ended around 5 pm, I went home, cooked dinner, witnessed Wade Miller get shelled and watched m fantasy team plummet, swept the upstairs, stairs, downstairs, cleaned the entire bathroom, washed the bathmats, washed the dishes, sliced some celery and watermelon for today's snacks, watched O.C. reruns, wrote in my journal, and read some Gabriel Garcia Marquez before lights out at 10:30 p.m. Alarm went off at 6 a.m., I finally got up around 7:30 to go to the gym. Look at how much I can get done when I'm trying desperately NOT to study for the bar!

Ooops. Hi Allison!

So I deleted some loan consolidation comments, believing they were spam, and viola! they were actually from my old friend Allison. I owe her an apology for thinking she was a psycho spammer. Love ya!

Loan Consolidation Hell

Total amount owed? HEART ATTACK. $150k. For REAL.

Filling out the federal loan consolidation paperwork is incredibly difficult. The feds have a database of what loans you currently have outstanding, but you have to enter each of your loans into the consolidation app separately, and they want things like the lender, guaranty agency, account number, and all that jazz. Hello? YOU ARE THE ONE THAT LOANED ME THE MONEY. Shouldn't YOU have this info? Damned if I know the amount, lender, guarantor, and account # for each loan. It's taken me over an hour to just give up on this whole thing. I'll have to figure it out another time.

Apparently, one can consolidate loans either 1. while still a student or 2. right before your grace period ends. If you consolidate in the middle of your grace period, you have to start repayment within 60 days, which could actually shorten your grace period. So don't do it.

I give up. Time to watch more MTV Cribs.

A great post over at Stay of Execution: Legal Lies
We in the legal profession don't treat our young very well. We lie to them systematically.

once upon a cool may evening

We were out on his porch curled on the papasan couch under the quiet heavy night sky.  A small down blanket covered us, our limbs and bodies entwined, the cool breeze blew across our faces from time to time.  We fit together nicely - pieced together against one another without discomfort or awkward angles.  His eyes closed, his face placed gently between my neck and shoulders.  I stroked his thick black hair and wondered why he didn't make my stomach churn like he used to.  Our conversations were easy and comfortable.  Our lips remembered how to kiss.  He was more attractive than I remembered.  "I missed this," he murmured as I lay on top of him, my tongue tracing his neck, his lips.  He didn't miss me.  We spooned, again pieced together effortlessly and comfortably, and he gently kissed my shoulders and the back of my neck, raising goosebumps on my arms, over and over again.  "I had forgotten how soft your skin is," he whispered to me. 

 

I wasn't overwhelmed with passion.  I just felt like I had returned to normal.  It was easy and comfortable, and in the quiet night with our bodies curled up against each other, I knew what it meant to feel truly content. 

 

"I don't know what role he plays in my life.  It was fine - we were comfortable, I enjoy his company.  We're good companions for one another.  I just don't know, if it were ever possible, if we could date.  We never had the chance to.  So why is he in my life?  What role does he play in my life?"

 

"He's your lover," she said thoughtfully.

 

I recoiled from the word at first.  "Um, well,"  I stammered.  My mind tried to grasp this concept.

 

"Yeah, I guess you're right.  A lover."

What I Learned in Law School - 1L Year

1. I am not nearly as smart as I thought I was. Being smart in a class of smart people isn't easy. It was instructive to heed our professors' advice to keep in mind that every single one of us had always been the smartest at what we had done before, and now we were all assembled in the same law school class. To encourage us to keep our perspective on what we were doing, one professor joked, "What did the snail say as he rode on the turtle's back?"

"Wheeeeeeeee!"

2. There's nothing shameful about hitting the curve. Or, for that matter, hitting well below the curve...

3. ...Because law school grades demonstrate nothing about how hard you worked or how well you knew the material.

4. The Socratic method will shatter you.

5. But that's not always such a bad thing.

6. How well you do in law school will tell you nothing about how well you will do in the practice of law.

7. Law school is like a curio cabinet of characters.

8. My professors knew when we were playing solitaire, minesweeper, or were reading from a commercial outline in class.

9. If done correctly, 1L year will be the most rewarding.

10. The best decision I made in law school was to MAKE FRIENDS, and make friends early. You're going to be staring at these people for 3 years, might as well make a good time out of it.

11. How to think like a lawyer.

12. How to drink like a lawyer.

13. Thinking like a lawyer will only serve to terrorize your friends and family for the first few months. Keep it in check.

14. Examples & Explanations on everything. Get it.

15. The Supreme Court's sole reason for being is to make people ask, "What the...?"

16. The law is a jealous mistress.

17. You will love it as much as you hate it.

18. Saying no to some social events is ok. Saying no to all social events in favor of sitting in the library, color-coding your tabs and highlighters, reading Wright & Miller to supplement your Civ Pro prowess will not be nearly as rewarding a life experience.

19. It is essential to keep in mind what drove you to attend law school in the first place. If you don't know, that's ok too. Just make sure you take time to reflect on what skills you have, what skills you want, and what you value in your present and future experiences. People? Technology? Economics? Policy? A particular lifestyle? Let those help you make your decisions.

20. You will be surrounded by people with diverse life experiences. Take advantage of that.

21. 1L summer will be the time to get a new experience without completely committing to something. Try criminal work, or policy work, or international work. (I, of course, would encourage EVERYONE to do public defender or capital trial work their first summer. If you like it, you'll love it. If you don't like it, your world view will be so much the better for it).

22. To be continued.

What did you learn your 1L year?

director's cut

Commentary:
It's been a busy few weeks, and the next coming will be just as busy. The laughter, the tears, the beer. Here's a brief clip of what I've been doing in the past few weeks. These clips are not necessarily representative of how my time has been spent or all that has elapsed, but this blog has never purported to be an accurate account of anything.

Scene 1: Party sponsored by myself and my roommates. WotL stands against a doorway, beer in hand, in the midst of switching groups in which to mingle.
Dialogue:
D: "By the way, I read your blog."
WotL: [cringe] "Really?"
D: "Yeah, XX told me that you wrote about law school people, so I read it. You didn't write anything about me. I read the whole site and you didn't mention me at all."
W: "I have a rule against writing about people. I only write about me."
D: "You wrote about T."
W: [pause] "Yeah, I warned him I was going to blog about him. Otherwise, it's just too hard to write about the people you know, because then everyone reads it, and you have to work really really hard to make everyone look good so you don't piss anyone off."
D: "You're saying that we're such assholes that you have to try that hard to make us look good?"

Scene 2: Same party as above. This time, sittin in a pink armchair. Boy #1 perches on the arm of the couch next to me. WotL just found out that Boy #1 has a long-term girlfriend. Boy #1 tells another person, "She's not a girlfriend, she's a situation."
Dialogue summary:
W: "Who's coming to visit you this weekend?"
B1: "Oh, you know, my family, my siblings."

Scene 3: Another party, several days later.
B1: "Yeah, XX came with me. She's in the bathroom right now."
W: "Oh yeah? XX is your sister?"
B1: "Um, XX is my, uh, ex-girlfriend."
W: "Oh really?" don't think I won't nail your ass to the wall, fucker. "Wow, you guys must be really close, you know, to have an ex come all the way to town to visit."
B1: "Well, you know, we get together, and break up, and get back together. She's kind of my ex, slash situation thing."
W: "I see."
XX returns from the bathroom, WotL commences making friends. We hit it off immediately.
She says, "Wow! I love this girl. She's super cool. She's totally the type of person you would have hung out with [in undergrad]."
B1, looking at me: "She's the type of person I would have hung out with in law school, too."

Scene 4: A small gathering. We are all raising our glasses in a champagne toast, standing in a circle. Drunk friend stands in the middle, raising the bottle of champagne from which he will totally swig.

Scene 5: Three roommates of two years in a large group hug in our hallway, crying; it is the last moment that we will all share as housemates.

Here's a shoutout to you, D: Happy birthday, you ignorant slut. You are forever immortalized here on the notorious blog of WomanOfTheLaw. I love you more than you know.

me me me

Since we're debating my flaws, I'll take this opportunity to talk more
about myself. Whoot.

Despite any contrary indications on my blog, I have lots of love to share.
I love, lots and lots and lots. I love everyone. I force other people
to be loved by me. (Ask my law school friends. I forced them all to be
my friends). I love to see other people happy, and I love it when other
people share their experiences with me. I love getting people together
for a wonderfully rewarding social interaction and catch heat sometimes
because I always go home early. But hey, as long as everyone is having a
good time, then my work is done. I almost never say things about people
that I wouldn't be prepared to discuss with them directly. I remove
myself from conversations in which other people (people I know, anyway)
are being disparaged because it makes me physically uncomfortable. (I'm
ok with talking shit about public figures). I love. I love to love. I
want everyone to be happy and be loved and to love others. As trite as
all this sounds, this is how I go about my day.

I love people so much that I fear that people do not love me nearly as
much as I love them. Which is kind of a harsh way to go about my day,
really. I'm worried that all this luvvvvvv is what will drive me out of
indigent defense work. I'm worried that I'll love some clients too much
(not in that way) and they won't give two shits about what I do or think;
I'm worried that I'll care too much and just see defeat, time and time
again; I'm worried that there will be clients that I won't like very much
at all, and that I'll feel guilty about it. I'm worried that I'll care so
much about the people and problems in the world, that I'll feel too
helpless to do anything, and one day I'll just stop caring all together.

My luvvvvv doesn't generally extend to kissing strangers. As a matter of
fact, I have (romantically) kissed one person since the start of the New
Year. In the past 12 months, I've only actually dated one person. Kind
of shitty, isn't it? To have so few meaningful and worthwhile
interactions? To live a life devoid of such basic human affection? I say
it's because of law school, and I'm too busy, blah blah blah, and that's
true. But there's a large part of me always thinking, Something is
critically wrong with this.

As for strangers - well, I do love meeting new people. There are few
things in life that get me as excited as getting to know new people does.
I thrive on it! You might think that I'd do well in large group social
situations, but actually I don't. I'm terrible at it and generally don't
like it. I'm not sure why this is. I think a large part of it is that I
assume that no one there is particularly interested in what I have to say.
Frankly, I don't have very interesting things to say. And I fear that
people always tend to mold into cliques in which I'm not welcome. But I
love figuring out what makes other people genuinely excited and happy, and
I think I'm good at it. I've had tremendous luck so far identifying
genuinely interesting individuals. I'm particularly going to miss this
law school crew. It's a group of characters like you've never seen
before, but I am bursting with love for all of them. Our separation is
going to be quite wounding to me.

So that's what I have to say about that.

White supremacists clash with Holocaust observance in Boston
And Mitt Romney told them that he doesn't like their type and wants them to go back to where they came from. This is irony, right?

Insert witty public defender remark here

Chicken ticketed for crossing the road

boys boys boys

Am I really that scary? I think I'm very warm and fuzzy. Maybe just delusional?

I'm still working on Boy #1 - the one in which I'm actually, and very much, interested. How do I let a boy know that I'm interested? How do I know if he is interested? Or how do I at least know that HE knows I'm interested? We're tentatively scheduled to meet up for a beer after his exams are over. Positive indication, or just another sign of general male ignorance in regards to the affections of a woman?

study music

The Killers "Mr. Brightside." Over and over and over and over again.
Joseph Arthur: "Honey and the Moon."
Zero 7: "In the Waiting Line" - acoustic live from AOL Sessions
Whiskeytown's 'Faithless Street' album
Uncle Tupelo's 'Anodyne' and 'No Depression' albums

My week at a glance

Juries are racist, and so is the Supreme Court.

31 pages of grammatically incorrect and hardly intelligible blather about jury discrimination does not a paper make.

You will meet an incredibly, incredibly hot & drunk undergrad.

You will see two very famous music artists perform.

The boy that you like will not come to your BBQ.

But you will run into him the next day, and he will give you an acceptable excuse, and be appropriately contrite. He will walk you towards your destination.

And on your way home from running into that boy, a boy on the street will hit on you.

And you will bring him home.

And shamelessly use him for his MLB TV.

And make out with him on your couch while your roommates are studying for their finals. Dirrrrrty.

You will nudge Boy #2 away from you because "Kevin Millar is batting."

You will also tell Boy #2 that he has no game. Which is very true.

You will send Boy #2 away but continue to watch his MLB TV.

You will live in absolute denial of the fact that you have a paper and an exam within the next 5 days, at which point you are absolutely no longer a law student. Which you won't have time to think about because you have more job stuff to take care of immediately after graduation.

an email exchange, demonstrating that yes indeed, my friends are much cooler than I am...

Backstory: T has bizarre eating habits. One thing that he used to eat consistently was wings. So he would regularly harass me to have wings with him, and I would occasionally submit to doing so. On Valentine's Day, he offered to take me to wings and I agreed. What better way to spend a Valentine's Day? Not only did he order us wings (and mock himself thoroughly about what the wings people must think of him, bringing a girl out for wings on V Day), but he even requested the remote control to change the TV to SportsCenter for me. What a darling. Unfortunately, due to food poisoning, T can no longer consume wings (and had to drop out of the wing-eating competition for which he was training). Fortunately, he discovered a wonderful steak and cheese sub place. Apparently it happens to be in a gas station. Realizing that I only have two weeks left in which to enjoy his company, I decided I'd preempt his cheesesteak nagging.

{Fri} Email to T: Cheesesteak date? How about Monday evening?

{Fri} T: Definitely cheesesteaks on Monday. Wings on Valentines, cheesesteaks from a gas station....I know how to treat a lady. We can discuss it this afternoon over pork.

{Fri, over pork} W: I'm totally blogging that.

Today, 9:02 am, T: [edited] Pick you up around 6?

W: {10:34 am} Yes pick me up at 6 pm. Make sure you call [xx] as well though. Are we eating at the gas station? Frankly, I'm up for doing that. If not, let me know so I can clear some space in my living room to eat.

T: {11:24 am} No, this isnt a fancy sit-down gas station. We'll take our sandwiches and get out of there. We can eat at my place if you want. I have all the coke and potato chips we'll need over there.

W: {11:16} And here I thought you were trying to be romantic. Little did I know you were taking me to a take-out gas station. Phooey.

[intermediate email from me to several friends, gloating over my fantasy baseball prowess. this list included T]

T: {11:18} Look I've got a final in less than 24 hours...I don't have time for all of these frivolous emails.

T: {2:24} I talked to [xx] and he's in. We'll be over at 6. One thing I should have
mentioned is that while the sandwiches are being made, I read Playboy. I hope this isnt an issue with you.
ps-I miscalculated; It turns out that I do have time for frivolous emails

School mistakes huge burrito for weapon

The end of law school

My very last class of all of law school ended yesterday at 3:45 p.m. My friend turned to me and said, "So this is it, huh?"

Holy fucking shit. This is it.

Just trying to coordinate bar applications and potential future jobs has left me so preoccupied that I haven't taken the time to reflect on all of this. Out of habit and moving time and time again in my military childhood, I've always looked forward without ever taking much time to close the last chapter. It's easier to just barrel ahead and focus energy on what's new than it is to... I don't know. Is mourn the right word? I'm glad law school is over, but I'm sad to leave this community of people.

The best parts of my day, every day, are the spontaneous conversations that develop just from occupying the same space with several hundred people in this law school, day in and day out. Soon enough, I won't recognize faces at the grocery store. It won't take me 45 minutes to get from my desk to the bathroom anymore, because no one will stop to talk to me on the way. Never again will I shuffle into a classroom with dozens of other people, catching up on last night's gossip while the computer boots up, moaning about the workload or the boredom. I won't encounter people on my walk to and from school, or to and from the coffee shop, to stop and chat with.

So this is it.

I have two weeks in which to write two papers and study for an exam, and every moment of it, I'm going to wonder how much I'll regret that it's a moment not spent with the friends who will soon drive out of here for the last time.

I am not the person I was three years ago, and I only wish I had done a better job of chronicling my own life changes. I'm more confident in some ways, less confident in others. I'm more motivated to pursue my own path. I'm more comfortable in my abilities to connect with people and create comfortable social networks. I'm no closer to figuring out my life's path than I was when I arrived in August 2002.

I can't help but be really damned proud of myself for ending up here. Here with these friends, these experiences, these skills, and these memories.

Hey there, how's it going? What class are you going to? Can you even believe that the OC was cancelled last night in favor of Social Security? Ugh, I know, right? Yeah, softball was SO MUCH FUN last night. Wish you were there. And then we played Trivial Pursuit, and our team kept getting questions about Canadians. Fuck Canadians, man. You have four exams? Shit, that sucks. Yeah, I'll definitely see you at the BBQ! Bring your glove. I have to go write this stupid friggin paper now. It was great to run into you. You know something? I'm really going to miss seeing you around.

Exploding Toads Puzzle Scientists
More than 1,000 toads have puffed up and exploded in a Hamburg pond in recent weeks, and German scientists have no explanation for what's causing the combustion.

1Ls are fucking crazy.

You have the textbook, the 200 page study guide by the textbook's author, but now you've decided that YOU CANNOT REST until you have the commercial outline by the textbook's author?

You will resort to already jealously commenting on journals and moot court, who will do well, who will not, and how everyone else will end up in the 6th layer of hell for not being EIC of at least one law review.

You are going to surround me, an unwitting and mildly hungover 3L in the library, as I am madly trying to dash off a response paper so that I can spend the next 10 days furiously struggling with writing a 30 page paper. After surrounding me, you will then proceed to talk in an outside voice about what firms you will be applying to. You will speak of these firms in regards to practice areas, their size, what they are known for. You will mispronounce just about every name on the list. You will say that this firm is a large presence in the San Francisco area, but I know they have an office of 7 attorneys. You will oooh and aaaah over what top 3 law school one must go to in order to get an offer from THAT firm. You will continue to mispronounce the names.

You are going to pick your 2L summer job interviews excitedly, like you were looking through brochures of a vacation package, instead of steeling yourself for the commitment you're about to make, a commitment that you might not have been willing to make before, but maybe you are now, because it pays so much money. And really, after that, you can GO ANYWHERE and DO ANYTHING. (P.S. That's a lie. Trust me.)

And here I am, in the library, sadly and unenthusiastically wrapping up my last few weeks of class by just trying to squeeze through, and I can't believe that I was once a 1L too.

Thank God I've recovered.

Not Guilty directed my attention to an interesting article in the Baltimore City Paper, highlighting the fact that juveniles without parents are locked up more often and longer than children with homes.

Last night

Last night I discovered that Woman of the Law is not anonymous to several of her peers.

Last night I was drunk by 5:30 p.m.

Last night I had a dream that I was trying to avoid a snake, and someone kept trying to get the snake to go after me and the people I was with. I ran away and ducked behind a chair. A cat was hiding under the chair too. Something was said to me, or by me, about snakebites, and how "it all depends on your state of mind" when the snake suddenly reappeared. As I was about to dash away, I grabbed the cat's front paws to whisk it away with me, and the snake sunk its fangs into the cat's back legs. I was very unhappy. Suddenly the snake bit me in the ass. It didn't hurt, but I wondered if I would die. Then I said, "Well, if Cameron Diaz can survive it, I can too. But would they give that shot to the cat to survive?" I decided the cat probably would not get that shot.

Apparently snakes indicate betrayal from someone that you least expect.

Baseball loyalties

I'm a Red Sox fan, but I adore the Orioles. The Red Sox are my hometown team, and besides, they were the underdogs for 86 years. Then last year, the unthinkable happened. The Earth moved, ends of movies had to be reshot, old people clinging to life in hopes of a World Series victory let go. And I, well, I came out as a closeted Orioles fan. I have seen more games at Camden Yards (3) than I have at Fenway (1). Today, I am utterly conflicted over whom I should be rooting for tonight when the Sox play the O's. The O's are totally carrying my fantasy baseball team. No one cares about the O's - they will never finish first or second in the AL East, they lost their DC market this year, etc. The Red Sox, for me, have started to lose their allure. I think the team that lost to the Yankees in Game 7 of the ALCS in 2003 was THE TEAM to win it all. And they didn't. And a small part of me died. Boston is still my team, and a great team. Where's the Boston magic though? Where's that tingly feeling? Did it leave with Nomar? Pedro? D.Lowe? The Curse? Maybe, just maybe, I'm one of those people who doesn't know what to do now that the Sox aren't the underdogs. So I'm rooting for the Red Sox to play the O's in the ALCS this year. The O's have gotten off to a great start and I want them to make it a great season. They will carry me to fantasy league victory.

However, I have been admonished time and time again that I cannot, under any circumstances, root for another team in the same division as MY team. I should pick an NL team, or at least a different AL division. I've been tormented on this issue relentlessly. To all you naysayers, I say: BLOW ME. I can root for as many goddamn people as I want. I can love the underdogs if I want to. I want to be a PUBLIC DEFENDER for TEENAGERS for the love of Christ. It doesn't get any more underdog than that.

And besides, when David Wells is pitching, it's really really easy to root for the Orioles. I don't like David Wells. And you will all rue the day that someone announces that Wade Miller is off the DL, Wells will stay in the starting lineup, and Wakefield or Arroyo (most likely, Arroyo) gets bumped from the starting lineup. When that is announced, I will walk around in a perpetually pissed off state.

I'm all fired up this morning

Florida gun law to expand self-defense
It is either a Wild West revival, a return to the days of "shoot first and ask questions later," or a triumph for the "Castle Doctrine" -- the notion that enemies invade personal space at their peril.

Such dueling rhetoric marked the debate over a measure that Florida Gov. Jeb Bush (R) could sign as early as Tuesday. The legislation passed so emphatically that National Rifle Association backers plan to take it to statehouses across the nation, including Virginia's, over the next year. The law will let Floridians "meet force with force," erasing the "duty to retreat" when they fear for their lives outside of their homes, in their cars or businesses, or on the street.

NRA Executive Vice President Wayne LaPierre said in an interview that the Florida measure is the "first step of a multi-state strategy" that he hopes can capitalize on a political climate dominated by conservative opponents of gun control at the state and national levels.

Woman held illegally at St. Elizabeth's
A homeless Haitian immigrant who speaks little English was illegally held at St. Elizabeths Hospital for nearly three months despite a ruling that she be treated as an outpatient, according to an emergency motion filed by her attorney.
I never saw myself as the type to get into prisoners' legal services or mental health services, but the more I learn about it, the more it draws me in. I'm sold on it now. This article is about a woman who was ordered released from St. E's. When she was released, the staff called the police who arrived, arrested her, and placed her right back at St. E's. I like this line: The assessment that her client suffers from delusions of persecution, Davis said, "fails to take into account" how she was handled by St. Elizabeths last Tuesday. I'm probably the only person in the world who feels bad for John Hinkley, who is also at St. E's. He was crazy when he shot Reagan, was found not guilty by reason of insanity, and has been held at St. E's under the guise of his dangerousness to the community. It's my understanding that no one who is treating him believes that he is still a danger. But he will never, ever be released from 'treatment.' There are so many people who are locked up for 'mental health treatment' who are really experiencing nothing more than prison. Or what prison would look like if it offered any sort of rehabilitation.

A Maryland Mother's Regret Spurs Painstaking Legal Fight
The case has burrowed its way into Ettinger's psyche. He believes he has what many lawyers consider their greatest burden: an innocent client and no way to prove it.

City judge to enforce timely jail hearings Over the past couple of days, the Maryland Public Defender has secured the release of individuals who have been held for days for charges that won't even be prosecuted. The State's Attorneys are worried that there's a chance that someone who shouldn't be released will be released under the 24-hr order. I know that I'm meant to be a defense attorney because I'm appalled that there are innocent people lingering in jail for days without so much as a hearing.

Best spam subject line:

"I poured spot remover on my dog. Now he's gone."

Broken Digits.

I'm missing a finger. Well, I didn't lose it so much as a broke it. Ok, maybe I didn't break it, but I definitely fractured it. I at least bruised it. How did I incur this life-threatening injury? Not by trying to run super fast to impress a hot young stud. Not by saving a baby from a burning building. Not by pulling an A-Rod. Not by tackling Vin Diesel to prevent him from trying to act again. No. I punched the treadmill. Which would have been appropriate given the fact that I saw my Treadmill Nemesis this morning (the woman who yelled at me and tried to call me out after she stole my treadmill several Mondays ago). But that's not why I punched the treadmill. Nope, I was running along, left right, left right, and ran a little too close to the pulse-taking bar. I punched right into it. It really hurts, man.

I've fractured/broken a digit before. Last summer, I jumped into the pool and as I hit the water, I felt a piercing/throbbing pain in my big toe. My toe never touched anything, as I remember it. But it hurt like a mofo, turned all sorts of colors, and swelled up real nice. That didn't stop me from running on it and from wearing incredibly painful heeled boots every day. I just popped a lot of painkillers. There's a lot of scar tissue in my toe now, or so I've been told. After a month of pain, I finally called University Health Services. They couldn't diagnose it without seeing me, but then the woman on the phone kept trying to diagnose me nonetheless. I told her that my understanding was that nothing could be done for a broken toe, so why should I bother to do anything about it? She told me to stay off it, ice it, get it checked out at the hospital, don't get it checked out, you can run on it, you can't run on it, all in the same phone conversation.

So the question is, for how long do I allow the pain and discoloration go on in my pinkie finger before I seek the treatment of the fools who didn't know what to do with a broken toe? I'll give it a few weeks.

US prison population soars in 2003, 2004.

According to the Justice Policy Institute, which advocates a more lenient system of punishment, the United States has a higher rate of incarceration than any other country, followed by Britain, China, France, Japan and Nigeria.

There were 726 inmates for every 100,000 U.S. residents by June 30, 2004, compared with 716 a year earlier, according to the report by the Justice Department agency. In 2004, one in every 138 U.S. residents was in prison or jail; the previous year it was one in every 140.

In 2004, 61 percent of prison and jail inmates were of racial or ethnic minorities, the government said. An estimated 12.6 percent of all black men in their late 20s were in jails or prisons, as were 3.6 percent of Hispanic men and 1.7 percent of white men in that age group, the report said.

Other findings include:

_State prisons held about 2,500 youths under 18 in 2004. That compares with a peak, in 1995, of about 5,300. Local jails held about 7,000 youths, down from 7,800 in 1995.

HOW COULD YOU LET ME COME TO THE LIBRARY WITHOUT MY HEADPHONES? Clearly this will be a short working day.

I'll forgive you this once, and offer you a chuckle for your day:
Papal Election Brings End to Worldwide Unsupervised Catholic Sin Binge

"As they recited the Apostles' Creed, I remember thinking of all the things I want to do, but don't because of my devotion to the Church," said Antonio Valez, a Catholic from Mexico City. "As soon as I heard the pope was laid to rest, I said a prayer for the Holy Father's departed soul and went straight out and bought a box of condoms. Actually, I'm wearing one right now. It's been on all day and I'm loving it."

Carl Whitestone, an 82-year-old lifelong Catholic from Beaver Dam, WI said he experienced a similar sense of freedom.

"When I heard the pope was dead, the first thing I thought about, besides how much the great man will be missed, was the big bloody steak I was going to eat on Friday," said Whitestone. "When the pope was alive, I never would've thought of flouting the 1917 Pio-Benedictine Code Of Canon Law. But once he was out of the picture, I immediately bore false witness against my neighbor. And then I coveted his wife."

Recipe: Salmon

'Womanofthelaw Goes to the Kitchen' presents the recipe for Lemon Butter Dill Salmon:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. I think.
2. Take salmon out of fancy fish paper. Place in dish.
3. Cover with Lemon Butter Dill fish dressing from bottle.
4. Cook 10-15 minutes.

Lest you think this looks like a no-prep meal, let me assure you there was preparation. It began this morning when I finished my workout and stepped on the scale at the gym. I've been shaving a few minutes off my workouts since things have been hectic the past few weeks, and have also missed a few days. Also, I lost my trusty Nalgene bottle and had pretty much stopped drinking water. This week, however, I had gotten back on track with water and workouts and so when I stepped on the scale, I was surprised to learn that I had gained 64 ounces. Now, we all know that weight fluctuates, la dee da, but I was not happy. Weight should be going DOWN goddamnit, I don't haul my ass out of bed at 6 am because it's fun.

What kind of healthy meals can I prepare for myself this week? I've slowly been experimenting with fish. I've avoided eating fish since my youth, but I've recently discovered that I love asparagus and fresh brussel sprouts, so why not give fish a try? I generally leave fish to the restaurants, but I figured now's as good a time as any to try cooking some myself. Besides, the cook's corner at the grocery store made a mini-meal with salmon and it was SO DAMNED GOOD. So I circled around the fish counter with my cart (filled with toiletries: 3 face washes, eye makeup remover, soap, toothpaste, razors) and finally marched up to the expansive display case. A nice man asked if he could help me, and I confessed it all. I've never cooked fish for myself before. I'm taking it slow. I want salmon. Like a good fish coach, he told me to start with baking it in the oven. Soothingly, authoritatively, he introduced me to the lemon butter dill bottle. He handed it to me, told me to put it on the salmon, and bake the salmon at 375 degrees for 10-15 minutes.

"What other kind of fish do you like?"
"Um, well, I know I like tuna steaks. Cooked by other people."
"Next time you come back, we'll try something else. You can blah blah cod blah blah haddock blah blah swordfish blah blah grill, it's really easy."

He said other fish names that I don't remember now, but I enjoyed making a fish friend.

My critique of the 'recipe':
- I hate dill. Unless it's a pickle. In which case I can pretty much eat a whole jar. See, e.g., last weekend; cf. aforementioned 64 ounce weight gain.
- Um, it was good at first. Not GREAT, but fine. Then I didn't want anymore. I will probably not make it again. I think I need a different taste.
- Idiot-proof? Yes. I think. So far. If I come down with rickets or botulism (ok, ok, food poisoning) then this recipe will be retracted.

Time for *cough* Joan of Arcadia *cough*. Shut up. If you can't preparty with God, who can you preparty with?

skittish, still.

This blog stopped being fun and witty a long time ago (if it ever was). But hey, I'm graduating from law school with cranial mortgage and don't have a definite job yet. Cut me some slack, jerk.

Every day, I get one step closer to making a commitment I'm not sure I want to make. I'm trying to hedge my bets, but bar review courses and bar associations won't let me. They demand more commitment, like this is some sort of needy intimate relationship. I tried to say, "You know I love ya, baby. It'll be ok. I just need some time. It's not you, it's me." This falls on deaf ears. Every time I have to fill out another form, attend another meeting, sign another sheet, or pay another bill, I get freaked out. I'm not ready to make a decision. But I hate feeling like there is no decision to be made - that I'm just going to get swept up in the current of least resistance and suddenly find myself somewhere I didn't want to be. There are only two possibilities, and they're both good. I'd feel better about it if I had the opportunity to make a decision instead of just waiting for things to fall into place, one way or another.

And my fantasy baseball team seems incapable of pitching. What the fuck?

Tom DeLay is the devil's handmaiden. Discuss.

Rice to Russia: You suck.

Rice says Putin has too much power. Apparently, being Secretary of State (that is, of the United States) means that you then go around and decide which countries' governments you like, and which ones you don't like. I will accept that Condi, in her position, may, and maybe should, evaluate the status of democracy in other countries. But sister, if we want to talk about executive power, let's start at home before we go around 'bringing democracy' and by democracy I mean war and imperialism, to other countries, yes? Let's start by not secretly imprisoning people for fun and then denying them all redress. That's not very democratic, now is it?

Dahlia on Moussaoui's potential guilty plea. "Somehow, even if he's the wrong guy being executed for the wrong conspiracy, this case will prove to the world that the American court system really works."

Washington Post article on Blake, the Miranda case out of Maryland. It is my belief that if the Supreme Court chips off the rule of Edwards, then Miranda will be the equivalent of the 'voluntariness' standard, which O'Connor espouses.

Today's news

Police officer killed while interviewing suspect. The suspect grabbed the officer's pistol and shot him with it. The picture of the suspect in the article is incredibly disturbing. It looks like he was beaten pretty badly.

From the Baltimore Sun:
Fire halts services needed by teens
Handling of inmate defended by state What's interesting about this article is that apparently, staff must preserve evidence if an inmate is pronounced dead in prison. But if the staff treat the inmate as though he were not dead, and he is pronounced dead upon arrival, staff have no duty to preserve evidence in regards to the circumstances of the inmate's death.

And what I think will be a fascinating case:
High Court to hear Miranda case. I wrote about this law a few months ago that forces prosecutors to gamble on interlocutory appeals - if they lose, the whole case gets thrown out. The prosecutors in this case appealed the suppression of the accused's statement and lost, so the case was dismissed. Since then, the MD legislature has changed the law so that it does not apply in homicide cases. I wonder if and how it will change after this.

And finally, last night was nightmare-free and included margaritas, Thai take-out, and celebrity gossip, which is truly the cure for everything.

Dear Self: What are you so afraid of?

Despite the fact that trial ad ended some time ago with the completion of my full-day trial, I am having dreams/nightmares about the trial every night. Last night, I recited most of my actual closing argument IN MY DREAM. I'm experiencing significant anxiety over my trial skills, more now than I ever did BEFORE the trial. As a matter of fact, my anxiety has increased enough that I'm wondering whether I chose the correct profession, which in 3 years of law school I've never questioned. Kinda messed up, no?

Now, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, I have this overwhelming feeling to bolt. Somewhere, anywhere. How am I dealing with stress? Well, I originally had cancelled plans to attend a baseball game this Thursday, figuring I should be here with my dear friends for the last weekend of my law school experience. I am currently re-examining this plan. I figure that I can leave here Thursday, make the road trip by myself if it comes to that, buy a ticket when I arrive, watch the game by myself if I have to, stay with a friend that night, and drive back on Friday or Saturday. I truly can't think of anything else that will settle my nerves.

Maybe I just won't come back.

The other thing I've now decided to do is to plan myself a post-graduation, pre-bar-review whitewater rafting trip in West Virginia. Never in my life have I: 1. been whitewater rafting or 2. set foot in, come near, or even considered setting foot in West Virginia. But I heard they have good rafting. So there it is.

Maybe doing all these things on my own will be helpful and introspective. Or maybe it'll just be lonely. Chances are, I'll just sit on my ass, eat Thai food, and booze it up until I forget why it is I feel like clawing at my own skin and/or sprinting far, far away.

Ain't no love like sistahlove.

If I merely chronicled my escapades without assuming the title of "Woman of the Law" I suspect that someone could mistake me for a male. Yesterday, I came home from a long day around 5 pm, put on jeans and a t-shirt, sprawled out in a lawn chair in front of my house to soak up the last bits of sunshine, all while drinking a beer and reading this month's Maxim. Later that night, we had our 2005 inaugural BBQ, during which I spent a significant amount of time discussing baseball. Today, I washed my car and then returned home to my lawn to finish reading my Maxim. I need to start acting more like a girl.

Law school prom was recently, and in the vein of acting more like a girl, I wore a killer dress, if I do say so myself. However, it required a bra constructed of several pounds of steel. It was still relatively unsuccessful, as the bra didn't fit quite right. The dress still looked pretty darned good. Never in my life have I ever been forced to do what I did that night - I stuffed my bra. To understand why this is odd, you need to know that my ... cups runneth over. Into the fourth letter of the alphabet. On the way home, I took out the socks ( - wretched and useless. I'm a novice at this stuffing thing). The next morning, when I went out to my car, I noticed my socks in the middle of the road. With tire marks over them. It was amusing, seeing what I had tried to pass as breasts the night before, in the middle of the road, with tire marks on them.

Today, in my attempt to be a girl, I did NOT watch baseball. Instead, with three incredible, witty, smart, warm, beautiful women, I went to brunch, then for a long nature walk, then for coffee, and back home again. I wore hoop earrings and a cute shirt, jeans, and some flip flops. I even put on eyeshadow. [I'm not sure who I'm trying to fool here.] Then I took Lilith (the car) to the carwash and encountered the Horrific Foam Brush from Hell, which relentlessly spewed bright pink soap suds all over the place, including all over said cute top, which now has pink splatters on it. Fuck. After that, I came back home to sit on my lawn and read Maxim. Old habits die hard.

Most of my friends are guys. This is for two reasons: 1. Affirmatively developing friendships with men eliminates any fear of romantic rejection. Because we all know once you're in the friend box, guys keep you there forever. (It's a pre-emptive control tactic. Emotionally risk free). And more importantly 2. [Most] guys are not nearly as bitchy, judgmental, and harsh to women as women are to each other.

I have developed more female friendships in law school than at any other point in my life, and I have to say that I am absolutely blessed to know the women that I know. I'm friendly with the "it" girls in the law school. But it's not often that you'll catch me at the bars, drinking mixed drinks, wearing a hootchie top, exposing a thong, and having an inch of makeup smeared on my face. It happens occasionally, but I'd rather do what I did last night - have friends over, BBQ, mix crowds, drink beer, play some tunes, throw around the football and baseball. I do flirt with men, and I do wear tops that might flatter my, ahem, features. (My flirting is subtle - like last night, I crushed on a guy over fantasy baseball - I knew it was meant to be when, after he helped me with my team, he said shyly, "Want to see my team?" and we noticed that our teams have about 1/3 of our players in common. Beautiful green eyes. Yum).

I don't stick around the bitchy girls, who climb over each other for the affections of men, who put their own dignity and self-worth at risk from time to time because they value themselves in regards to how semi-hot drunk men value them. I'm really, really lucky to have my girlz, my sistahs, who don't need none of that bullshit neither. Today's sistahlove bonding session reminded me of how lucky I really am.

Sistahlove holla to THL, who I hope has better luck with the sistahlove in the future.

Last night.

Last night I had a dream that I was denied my fellowship in the first rounds - I wasn't even invited to submit a full proposal. I was disappointed, but relieved, because then I knew that I'd be taking the other job. In my dream, all of these other things indicated to me that this was the right choice. Later on in my dream, though, 3 of my friends killed themselves. So hopefully not all dreams come true.

Gary Sheffield did not get punched. It was clear that the fan was trying to cheer and pound on the side of the stands like all the other fans were doing. He didn't hit Sheffield at all, nor does it look like the fan was even TRYING to hit Sheffield. He wasn't even looking at him. I think it's ridiculous that Sheffield is being commended for keeping his cool, which apparently involved LOSING HIS SHIT and punching the fan back. Yeah, really commendable. And Sheffield himself can't even say that he got hit! He's going to need a better attorney because the, "I felt like something hit my face, so I wiped away my lip to make it look like I got hit" story just doesn't cut it, my friend.

Apparently A-Rod saved a boy from being hit by a truck (but only because the kid was a Yankees fan) which almost makes up for the fact that he ain't done shit by way of fielding since he came to the Yankees.

Slate goes to Fenway. Sorry Seth, but I have it from another Sox journalist that Mark Bellhorn is the stupidest Red Sox player - not Johnny Damon. This journalist also said that Pedro is not only known around the clubhouse for his big words, but also his big...yeah. Scandalous.

Thoughts

1. I take a deep breath, dive under, swim as fast as I can underwater until I get to the end, then I come up gasping for air, and then the next assigment that's due immediately comes along, so I dive under and do it all over again. It seems that I'm in capable of swimming leisurely.

2. True or False: Doug Mirabelli is underrated on offense? True. He seems to hit an uncanny number of HRs for the actual number of games he gets to play.

3. Tim Wakefield is always my favorite. ALWAYS.

4. The Hot Librarian wrote about the Hip Dips - the hottest part of a man's body. Oh yeah ladies, we all know that part. I get all tingly just thinking about it. Nibble nibble.

5. The 'deep breath' that I'll be taking this Saturday night - Monday morning should result in my lungs filling with tequila. If all goes well.

6. I'm considering leaving this one to a vote: which state bar should I take? Your options are A) The state in which I am currently living and in which I have an unofficial job offer, B) The state in which I have applied for a grant to start my own little job with the public defender, which, if awarded, would not be awarded until July or August but would be my dream job, or C) State A plus another state, State C, where I was this fall, not because I particularly want to work there but because hey, why the fuck not? or D) State B plus State C.

State C is sort of a safety - I think it's more likely that they have a rolling hiring schedule so if I'm shit out of luck next fall with a job, I can always live with mom and wait around for them.

Baltimore police using psychological warfare modeled after military tactics

Fever Pitch: A Supplemental Review

Blondie reviewed Fever Pitch last week, but you can't trust anything that a Yankees fan writes. I saw the movie tonight and LOVED IT.

It was like that movie told my story. You know, single, too busy for love, really rich and successfully employed and living in the Back Bay... whoops, I mean, poor but having a job that I love and season tix behind the batter...well maybe not that either. But I DID TOTALLY MISS THE MOST IMPORTANT GAME IN RED SOX HISTORY. I was away for a job interview and had I known that NOTHING WOULD PAN OUT I would have fuckin' skipped it and gone to Fenway, come hell or high water. Friends called my dying, battery charger-less cellphone, yelling, "Woohoo!! We're in Kenmore Square! And we're getting TEAR GASSED!!! WOOOOOOO!" While I sat, alone, without clothing, suits, face wash, or a clean pair of underwear - having missed the game in which the Red Sox won the World Series for the first time since 1918. And to make matters worse, I missed the entire weekend of post-World Series victory parties. I should have been there.

When the Sox played the Yankees on Opening Day, there was a special on ESPN2 right before it that showed the Sox's path to victory. I might have shed a tear or two into my beer. I might called a friend to discuss Red Sox Love like only a Sox fan understands. But that special was the first time that I actually really and truly saw the entire last part of Game 3 against St. Louis.

I digress. The other reason why I loved Fever Pitch so much is because... who DOESN'T want to have Jimmy Fallon's babies after that movie? Hmmmm? I thought Drew and Jimmy had excellent romantic-comedy chemistry. Sigh. It was beautiful. If I can find a man like that, I will die a happy, happy woman.

Baseball gives me a reason to live.

Finally, when I wake up in the morning, I'm not counting down the minutes until I can go back to bed that night. I love scooting downstairs to drink coffee and read ESPN, Yahoo Sports, check out some MLB websites, local newspapers. I can watch SportsCenter and not care if it sucks, because at least it shows !baseball! Let's talk about how the Orioles handed the Yankees their ass - go O's! That should answer Not Guilty's question.

Last night I had a dream that I was making out in front of a bunch of guys... with a Pamela Anderson look-alike. (!) Imagine my surprise. I blame cable television for this. We were then broken up by an impromptu party - everyone from the law school showed up. Suddenly, someone shushed the entire crowd and everyone commenced watching Star Wars. (ugh). Again, I blame cable television for this.

Death sentence upheld for Starr's death row client.
From reading this article, it seems as though the Fourth Circuit has managed to botch another capital case. The Fourth Circuit and the Fifth Circuit have this bizarre reasoning in regards to child abuse that goes something like this: Yes it is a mitigating factor. Yes that means the defendant has a Constitutional right to present it, and not presenting it is prejudicial. But if the jury knew how badly he was beaten and starved as a child, they'd just want to put him to death. Therefore, the decision not to present that evidence is strategic. In light of Williams v. Taylor (2000) and Wiggins v. Smith (2003), the Fourth Circuit is dead wrong. No pun intended. In those cases, the Supreme Court bent over backwards to reverse on the failure to present child abuse evidence on a Sixth Amendment ineffective assistance of counsel claim. The attorneys knew about the defendant's abuse, didn't present the evidence or presented it briefly, and the Court still found a Sixth Amendment violation. To say I'm not a fan of Ken Starr would be an understatement, but I hope this client is heard, by the Supreme Court or otherwise.
Also, all DNA evidence was destroyed in this case preventing post-conviction testing. That's inexcusable. He was convicted in 1999, DNA evidence wasn't unheard of. Additionally, since when are court clerks all up on cleaning things up around the courthouse? Evidence and files sit around for decades gathering dust. Except, apparently, when the state wants to kill a man.

Virginia is a lethal state. They do love their capital punishment.

worst joke ever

Text msg me that Tito is dead.

OR prosecutor offers sex offenders a home.

Dahlia, oh Dahlia...

Needles and Threats: More tough talk about pulverizing the judiciary.

I mock 6th Amendment jurisprudence

I drank for four hours and am now producing motions for mock trial. My client is on his way to a federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison. (I'm an incredibly highly functioning drunk, I'm sure he'll be fine.)

rampant sexism

I just had two guys telling me that today's game is only a spring training game. I said, no it's a regular season game. "No, it's only April 5th. It's spring training," they insisted. To which I said, "No way man. Opening Day was Sunday." And one of them replied, "No, that was opening day of SPRING TRAINING." Bitch, you callin' me a liar? I might be a girl, but I know the difference between spring training and the regular season. Don't hate.

It has handles? I might like where this is going

Slate explainer describes a prisoner body wrap (the ultimate immobilization system). "The Wrap consists of a shoulder harness, a binding for the ankles, and a blanket with straps that encircles and restrains the legs. The harness and the ankle strap attach to loops on the blanket with carabiners, which helps to keep captives from moving."

In other news, Two teens get 14 years for shooting, crippling teen.

Decisions, decisions...

It is beauuuuuutiful outside today.

There is a baseball game at 1:05 p.m.
I have Tax (pass/fail) at 2:30 pm.
Happy hour starts at 5 p.m., but I intend to be there a little early.

Do I go to tax? If not, then why the fuck did I come to school today?

Murder Incorporated: The Accused is Dead Serious About His Quirky Defense

Do you think that Thomas is really psyched about tax, or bankruptcy? Or do you think that Rehnquist assigns these cases to Thomas because Rehnquist doesn't care for Thomas's approach to law?

Harvard librarian loses discrimination lawsuit

Welcome to the Monkey House

So after the Great Fellowship Debacle of 2005, which is still in its beginning stages, that unofficial offer is looking pretty damned good so far. I could totally do it. I mean, 3 years is nothing. I lost 3 years of my life to law school, what's another 3 years? I'm guaranteed a job that I love, in a city with friends that I love. The worst case scenario is that I don't fall in love with the city, but I can't imagine how I wouldn't enjoy living there for a few years. The dating scene has got to be better than this one. I could take the subway instead of using my car, I could go to baseball games, I could go to museums. You know, all the trappings of a real city. It would be so much easier to take that path.

But if there's anything that you have all noticed, it's that I seem incapable of making anything simple.

If I had a sexy typepad blog instead of blogspot, I'd totally create a category of postings explicitly designed for job search stuff. WHAT THEY DON'T TELL YOU ABOUT PUBLIC INTEREST JOBS, PARTICULARLY PUBLIC DEFENDER JOBS. That will be the subject of a post all its own.

Springtime

Womanofthelaw is looking for the affection of a good man.

And is thoroughly disappointed by the lousy showing the Sox made last night. But did you notice that Damon and Millar have highlights? Mmmhmm. Perhaps that's the deal they made with Queer Eye - can't cut the hair, but can color it? Perhaps the ammonia went to their heads.

untitled

Inmate denied medical care that resulted in his death

Maryland is not looking particularly competent in the field of incarceration these days.

I've always been attracted to the bad-boy types

One thing I will miss about academia are the random and unexpected learning opportunities that arise. You can guarantee that at any given point on a college campus, there is someone talking about something that very few other people care about. Of course, I'm always chained to my work in the dark bowels of the law school, so I never went to see the special art exhibit, or the talk on Colombian rebels, or other things that did actually interest me. It's great to be able to walk through the halls, see a table full of food outside the lecture hall, and know that I can either be fed or educated or both on just about any given day.

I have had the opportunity to see a few well-known and interesting speakers recently. If I printed their names here, you would recognize them. When I was getting ready for school one morning, I remembered that I was going to be attending a lunch for a speaker, so I decided against the sweatpants and opted for a nice shirt, jeans, some jewelry, and even some makeup. As I was carefully applying my selected eyeshadow, I chastised myself for almost walking into this lunch looking like a disrespectful fool. Then I chuckled to myself, thinking, I wonder what the world would think about the fact that I'm putting on makeup out of respect for a convicted murderer?

consider it done

Too bad it's goig to rain tomorrow

Horoscope:
It's April Fools' Day, and any distraction from what you've been dealing with will be welcome at this point. You've been trying to make a decision -- a very serious decision -- and it's been keeping you up. It's ruining your ordinarily sunny disposition, too, which is far worse than any lack of sleep, in your book. Don't let it get to you. Get in on the fun.

victory, maybe?

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

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

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

48 hours and counting.

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

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

In the waiting line...

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

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

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

Focus!

Letter to self:

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

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

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

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

Solution #3: Quit. Everything. Period.

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

nervous.

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

I don't wanna

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

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

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

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

Rant, part 2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

WARNING: Rant to commence. Nothing rational will follow.

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

(gasp) No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn I can't wait to get started.

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

oh, and P.S.

WOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!

I'm going to be a public defender!

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

Pondering

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

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

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

Job update

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So says my fortune cookie.

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

Today's news

Study faults treatment of juvenile offenders.

MA court system plagued by delays.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor!

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

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

See? I told you.

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

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

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

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

Today's news

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

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

Young father juggles high school, responsibilities.

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

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

That's like a full work day.

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

The Human Mating Ritual

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

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

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

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

Take Two Tablets: Dahlia on the Ten Commandment arguments.

Law firms question Gen Y work ethic

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

tickles me

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

I'll take another

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

SUPREME COURT STRIKES DOWN JUVENILE DEATH PENALTY

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

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

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

EDIT: Dahlia's take on it

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

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

I really love the kiddos. Really really love them.