defeat

Now that I've had time to think, I'm feeling absolutely, 100% horrid.

I'm not sure I can articulate how this feels. I guess, even though I've
been really anxious and uncertain about the whole thing, I really planned
on this. This was my absolute dream job, and it was perfect. I was ready
to pursue this to the detriment of everything else - like a definitive
paycheck. It was a dire need, it was my favorite population (the kiddos!)
and I was going to have the opportunity to establish a position that was
going to be a model for the rest of the agency, to later become an actual
unit of attorneys doing the same type of advocacy. The attorneys with
whom I consulted were great, and the community was the community that I
wanted to move to - and as far as I was concerned, it was going to be my
last move ever. This was going to be it for me.

What's even worse about this whole thing is that, in theory, this is
actually the best thing for the kids - something I would have tried to do
in the course of my fellowship. These kids deserve better, and the state
is trying to give them that. I should be happy that this is a step in the
right direction for these kids. And I am - it's such a good thing.

But what if one day, you showed up for work, and there wasn't a need for
public defenders anymore? No one was committing any crimes, no one was
indigent, nothing was happening. Then what would you do with your life?
Where would you go next? How would you feel about all that you had
accomplished?

Of course, this is just one little job. there are other jobs. But those
other jobs aren't in those communities, and aren't specific to the
population and the advocacy I wanted to do. And I've worked so hard on
this - this was my baby. It was my little project, a seed in the soil,
that was about to bloom and flourish. I think this proposal really
grabbed some people's attention, and I know that these ideas will see
themselves develop statewide - eventually. I should be pleased with all
of this. But right now, I have nothing.

What are the possibilities? The funding agency, now almost a month late
(I sent in the app on APRIL 1. It's been 3 months. That's about one page
a month that they've been reading my app). Last week they said they were
sending out letters last week, and I should have heard early this week.
It's now 10 pm on Thursday, and I haven't heard anything. If they sent me
the letter and rejected me, then this is of no consequence. If they sent
me the letter and invited me to the second and final round, there's a
possibility I could make some alterations to do the same kind of advocacy
but with a different sub-group of kids. I'm not sure that it will appear
as compelling, however. Third, they could send me a rejection letter NOW
based on this intervening event, since my proposal as it stands is moot.
Fourth, I could scrap this whole thing - the agency, the kids, the
community - and go with the other job that assured me they'd be making me
an offer. The upside is that I will know many people in the community,
and will be working with indigent defendants, and will be working for an
excellent agency, but I otherwise loathe the idea of moving to this
community.

Earlier today, I was smarting from the impact of this news. It was more a
shock than anything else. Right now, I'm just devastated. I feel like my
feet have been knocked from under me. This whole time, I was really
gearing up for this - I was really putting all my mental energy into
wanting this to work. Now what?

I emailed Mr. STF an email along the lines of what I posted earlier today.
He called me. I can count on one hand how many times we've spoken on the
phone since we've not been in the same city. He was really sweet. It was
really nice, actually, that he cared enough to call and talk to me about
it. We discussed this predicament. So this fellowship was Plan A. Plan
B I described above. So he asked, "What about plan C?" Plan C is to move
to the Plan A community and just do contract work until I can get a job
that I want. He said, "Well that's not so bad." Pause. Silence.
"Right? It's not." He did it. And I sort of dismissed it, although the
idea had been in the back of my mind. But now, having spent the past 2
hours lying on my bed with tears of anger and disappointment just
simmering in my eyes, I softened to the idea. It's not that bad. If
everything else falls apart, and I can't bear the idea of anything else,
there is Plan C.

I'm tired. I'm devastated. I feel like my energy has been completely
tapped. The day got exponentially worse for unrelated reasons, and now I
really just want to crawl under a rock and not come out for a few months.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

A high ranking state official saw the overwhelming problems riddling juvenile deliquency services and as such, has taken action that COMPLETELY ELIMINATES MY FELLOWSHIP PROPOSAL. Yup. About 90 minutes ago, I became completely fucking obsolete. It's a good thing for the kiddos, it's a really really bad thing for my proposal.

And, by the way, the funding agency is several weeks late in notifying me as to whether I even made it past the first round at all! I mean, the proposal as it stands now is moot, but I called the agency last week and they assured me they sent out letters last week. Maybe we'll make this one fucking banner day by finding a rejection letter waiting for me. Or maybe an even more ridiculous outcome will be a letter inviting me to the next round. The fellowship is salvageable with some modifications, I think, but I just need everyone to know that I am currently FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

I mean, I know I'm good, but sometimes being good means putting yourself out of work. Look how accurate I was at identifying the needs of the community... I was so accurate that someone else WENT AHEAD AND DID IT FOR ME.

Bar Review's Third Level of Hell: Duty Problems

Never once in law school did it occur to me that a duty was anything other than a legal obligation. Then I heard the Bud Light commercial that changed my life. One "Real Men of Genius" commercial came on while I was listening to the Sox game. It was "Jean Shorts Inventor." Not a particularly amusing one, until the narrator says something along the lines of jean shorts, either at work functions or family BBQs, doing their duty. Then the guy that sings in the background says, "YOU! just said doodie." And it was so unexpected and out of nowhere that I laughed my ass off. That was about two days before bar review started.

Through property, evidence, torts, contracts, the word "duty" appears a lot. But I have to tell you, in 3 years of law school, and after a month of bar review, it was not until today that it became uncontrollably funny. The lecturer referred to "duty issues" and having "duty problems" and at first it started with a childish snicker. By the end of the class, me and my back row cronies were hysterical.

Heh. He said doodie.

Supreme Court rulings

SCOTUSblog is updating:

The Ten Commandments display in KY were unconstitutional; the display in TX was not.

Supreme Court will not hear case regarding whether there is a reporter-source privilege.

Failure to enforce a protective order does not give rise to liability.

Check LII's Supreme Court page for the decisions.

Summer Listening & Reading List

About two years ago, I started asking people for book and music recommendations. I have asked several friends to recommend one book that they think I should read - either because they particularly enjoyed it, or because they think I would enjoy it, or because there is information in it that would be useful to know. I don't read as often as I would like, but I have used these recommendations and am glad. Not only do I enjoy reading books I may otherwise have avoided, but I think it reveals a hidden corner of the person who recommended it.

So, internet world, what would you recommend? I would like to ask you for a book to read, a CD to listen to, or both. There are many of you out there that read this blog who have never quite introduced themselves, and I hope you either leave a comment or shoot an email. I'd really like to hear from you!

And far be it for me to take without giving. Here are a few of my own recommendations for summer reading:

"Love in the Time of Cholera" - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (100 Years of Solitude is my favorite, but if you've never read Marquez before, I think it's hard to start with that one)
"Naked" and "Me Talk Pretty One Day" - David Sedaris
"Prodigal Summer" - Barbara Kingsolver
For the ladies, anything and everything by Jennifer Weiner
For the legal eagles, "The Brethren" by Bob Woodward and Scott Armstrong is a must-read.

how to love bar review

1. Go to the morning class instead of the afternoon class on Friday. Spend the afternoon at the beach, sunning yourself. Make 6 flashcards and call it "work." Spend the evening eating tapas and drinking sangria with girlfriends.

2. Get up Saturday morning and have a fabulous workout, followed by 4 hours of work.

3. Having spent the morning doing some earnest work, spend the afternoon kayaking, enjoying the water, the sunshine, and the physical activity.

4. Having worked up an appetite, go grab a sub and ice cream for dinner. Yum.

5. Watch "Waiting to Exhale" because it's one of your all-time favorite chick flicks while you continue to work.

6. Go out drinking around 10:30, alleging you will be in bed by 11:30, and stay past last call.

7. Wake up on Sunday morning, skip the gym, eat a big brunch, and rock your way through contracts.

Passing the bar can only be easy in retrospect. I may have a great tan, but I don't know shit about law.

Supreme Court ruled today that the government CAN take your property from you to give it to developers.

Results of the poll

Girl who carries her own condoms - prepared, or sleeps around? First impressions. Be honest.

"Prepared" (3)
"Sleeps around"
"First impression is prepared, but I'd look for signs that suggest otherwise"
"sexually liberated" (to which I replied, 'that means slut')
"it depends"
"was this message meant for me?"

snapshots of a bar review course

Lecturer:  "The defendant would argue, 'THAT IS NOT MY SEMEN.'"
W, whispering:  "Dirrrrrrrty."
Guy to my left: "If I had a nickel for every time I said that..."

poll

Favorable Dicta is compiling a Top 10 list of things every girl should have, in reaction to MSN's lame top 10 list. What seems to make every list is condoms. MSN has "a condom" as item #10. You can't really buy just one condom though.

This prompts something that I've been meaning to inquire about but have heretofore been too reserved to ask. What do you think about women who carry condoms? I have twice had condoms in my purse when I hooked up with a guy, and twice he was surprised, and both times he didn't have any. Or so he said. (This was the same guy both times, several months apart). It seems like there's something that catches guys off guard when a girl has condoms in her purse. Well, hell, I knew we were going to hook up, and we did, and lo and behold, I was prepared. Like a Boy Scout. I don't take them out of my purse, because you never know when someone will need one (I have on several occasions provided them to friends). One problem, though, is that I think they've, ahem, aroused some suspicion at security points. I was at the Supreme Court the day that Blakely was argued, and right before that historical oral argument, I had to show the guard my condoms. He was embarrassed. I was amused.

Why is it that guys are put off by this? I suppose guys draw an inference that if a girl is carrying condoms, then she must sleep around. I would like to present to you Defense Exhibit A: WomanoftheLaw carries condoms and gets almost no sex. So there you go. I defy social myth. Condoms do not cause women to sleep with lots of random anonymous men.

And seriously. If I hadn't been carrying condoms, then Mr. STF - you would have been stuck with those miserable condoms that you had stashed away long ago that prevented anything fun from happening for you. Shouldn't you be thankful for my preparedness?

file under: things that no one tells you about law school

Studying for the bar will absolutely be the worst way to spend two months. Not because you're frantically studying, or because even after graduation you end up in the same library with the same people as you did the three years before, not because it's hot as balls and nothing's air conditioned properly. it sucks because there's about 30 hours of work to do a day, you do nothing more than show up for the BarBri class, and then spend the rest of the time brooding and watching trashy television because you can't bring yourself to waste time doing something FUN, because you know you're supposed to be studying. Everyone hates life, including those people in law school who were never once in a bad mood.

AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH.

bad Republicans.

Jeb Bush requests investigation into Schiavo 911 call. Bush hates Michael Schiavo - Bush will not let him win. Can you imagine if something happened to your mother, spouse, sibling, and you made the decision that they wanted, and you had local, state, and federal governments ALL introducing laws and creating havoc about it? And then your governor requests an investigation by the AG even after it's all over? KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY. GO fix starvation, poverty, the eighteen different wars we're fighting, SOMETHING. There is no 'living will' epidemic.

And while we're at it, Republican politicians, if we're interfering with marriage, and we're thinking a Constitional amendment defining marriage is in order, then I insist you include a ban on Celebrity Marriages as well. Please use your Schiavo intervention skills to stop this marriage ASAP. Katie Holmes, what are you thinking?!?!

Michael Jackson acquitted.

Today's Supreme Court decisions

Wilkinson v. Austin is a prisoner's rights case regarding whether the procedure (or lack thereof) for assignments to Supermax prisons violates the Due Process Clause.

Conditions at OSP are more restrictive than any other form of incarceration in Ohio, including conditions on its death row or in its administrative control units. The latter are themselves a highly restrictive form of solitary confinement. See Austin I, supra, 724—725, and n. 5 (citing Ohio Admin. Code §5120—9—13 (2001) (rescinded 2004)). In the OSP almost every aspect of an inmate’s life is controlled and monitored. Inmates must remain in their cells, which measure 7 by 14 feet, for 23 hours per day. A light remains on in the cell at all times, though it is sometimes dimmed, and an inmate who attempts to shield the light to sleep is subject to further discipline. During the one hour per day that an inmate may leave his cell, access is limited to one of two indoor recreation cells.

Incarceration at OSP is synonymous with extreme isolation. In contrast to any other Ohio prison, including any segregation unit, OSP cells have solid metal doors with metal strips along their sides and bottoms which prevent conversation or communication with other inmates. All meals are taken alone in the inmate’s cell instead of in a common eating area. Opportunities for visitation are rare and in all events are conducted through glass walls. It is fair to say OSP inmates are deprived of almost any environmental or sensory stimuli and of almost all human contact.

Aside from the severity of the conditions, placement at OSP is for an indefinite period of time, limited only by an inmate’s sentence. For an inmate serving a life sentence, there is no indication how long he may be incarcerated at OSP once assigned there. Austin I, supra, at 740. Inmates otherwise eligible for parole lose their eligibility while incarcerated at OSP. 189 F. Supp. 2d, at 728.

The never-ending Miller-El v. Dretke case, granting habeas relief on a Batson claim. Texas sucks.

Bradshaw v. Stumpf is a Sixth Amendment case that I'm not familiar with but caught my attention. It appears as though there was some dispute as to whether the defendant was fully aware of what exactly he pled to. Additionally, the prosecution proceeded against the defendants (capital case) on potentially inconsistent theories.

The Supreme Court reiterated Batson again in Johnson v. California, overturning a state Supreme Court decision because it placed an inappropriate burden on the defendant.

thinking

I thought that after I saw you last time, I'd stop thinking about you so often. I thought I'd remember how much I don't feel connected to you, how sometimes you made me feel uncomfortable. I thought I'd stop wondering what made you the only guy that's not a distant second to a good DVD on a Friday night. I thought that we don't know each other well enough, that we can't ever be involved, that the way I think about you is crazy and irrational, and that it's clearly not meant to be. I thought I'd stop thinking about where I'm going next in relation to whether I'll ever see you again. I thought I'd stop thinking about you in the course of my conversations. I thought I'd stop wanting to talk to you, to tell you about my day or my plans or this really neat article I read. I thought I'd stop wanting to hear your voice, hear about your day, your family, your friends, your plans. I thought that I would stop falling asleep every night thinking about how perfect it felt to be curled up with you, listening to your breathing, feeling the way you take your place in the world even while you sleep. I thought that I'd stop wishing that it had been you that called instead.

I was wrong.

lazy heat

Baltimore Sun: Special report on inmate health care

I walked out of my bar review class yesterday after the first hour.

I received a phone call last night from someone that I wasn't expecting. I should call him back.

My debit card stopped working. The machine spit it out at me in disgust and flashed a threatening message. I have about 38 cents on me until I manage to get to a bank to get a new card to access my checking account, also worth about 38 cents.

The air conditioning at my gym broke a week ago. Today, they posted a notice assuring us that they will know more about a possible temporary solution by the middle of next week. I'm sorry. What? I just paid waaaaay too much for my summer membership, I'm sweating like a bitch as soon as I walk in here, and now you're telling me that you will have information about a possible TEMPORARY solution ONE WEEK from now? On the upside, I never have to wait for any of the equipment, since there's only 3 of us in the gym at any given time now.

I may spend the weekend swimming instead of reviewing equitable servitudes.

BarBri hallucinations

I've had some very vivid and of course, completely odd dreams the past few nights. This is a good indication, because it seems that when I'm particularly distracted or otherwise occupied by anxiety, I 'stop' dreaming.

My recollection of my dream last night began at a law review buffet. One of my friends on law review invited me to the buffet, despite the absence of any nexus between myself, law review, and the occasion for which the buffet was set up. In line at the buffet, my roommate got in a raging argument with a dark-haired couple, who were standing in line incorrectly (you know? when people think they're standing in line, but aren't, and then all of a sudden you're cut by idiots who just can't stand in a straight line?). The argument was about simple liability and complex liability. As far as I can tell, neither of these are actual legal standards, but this demonstrates the hazards of studying (yes! actually studying!) for the bar in the evening. Roommate was clearly right in my dream, and clearly the dark-haired girl was stupid, but it made me feel better about my chances for passing the bar.

Next, I was in a bedroom that presumably was mine, and was making my bed with someone I don't, in real life, know particularly well. I remember the sheets were yellow. There were other people who I didn't know in the room. Suddenly I was shot in the chest and collapsed on the bed. Someone called 911, but the emergency vehicles weren't showing up, so I was just lying on the bed gasping and bleeding profusely. I kept very calmly and firmly assuring people in the room, "Don't worry! I will be fine, I promise." Secretly, I was terrified that since the ambulance seemed to be taking its sweet time, I was going to die. I started coughing up blood, and said, "See? That's supposed to happen. That's a good sign" while again, thinking, I'm gonna die. Then I regretted spitting blood on the comforter. That will never come out in the wash, I think to myself, and it's so impolite since that wasn't really my bed. What feels like 20 minutes passes, me gasping and oozing blood, and still no emergency response vehicles. I reach for the phone to call 911 again. My friend is really upset and wants to call them, but I calmly and confidently assure her that I'm fine and I should be the one to call and see where they are. I really didn't want anyone else to think that I was in bad condition, although I knew I was. So I 'call' 911 again except the phone is actually one of those generic condiment bottles, and as I'm calling 911 I'm actually pouring gravy into my ear. Regardless, it works as a telecommunication device and the operator, who can see my location based on my call, assures me that the response vehicles are at my door. They got lost on the massive amounts of land on the property, apparently. As I'm looking through the screen door, I see a line of cars pulling up and I'm relieved.

The next part of the dream, I leave the house with my mother. I'm still shot and bleeding, and really starting to wonder if I'm going to die. We're walking to her car so she can take me to the hospital, and we're arguing the whole time. She was blaming this situation on me and I was not going to back down on this argument. As we're walking to her car, which in my dream is a large old blue Chevy utility van, I see two young men, who clearly look like punks, walking towards us. I know that they are going to rob us without hurting us, but I'm sure that we can get into the car in time, avoid the whole situation, and get on our way to the hospital. I turned around and saw an older man signal to the two younger men by popping his collar (eew?) and so the young men suddenly change their mind. I suddenly know that my mom and I are in trouble and we rush to get into the van, me on the passenger side and my mom in the driver's side, but as we're climbing in, the youths pull out two knives. One of them hops in the backseat and the other is holding a knife to my mom's neck. I know that they want our money, and I sense that there's a chance that they won't hurt us but since that other man signaled something to them, their motives have changed and maybe they will actually hurt us now. In my head I start pleading with them because I know they won't let us drive to the hospital, and I know that I'm going to die, and if they are trying to rob us and I end up dying because I can't get to the hospital, they are going to be in so much more trouble, and they would have no way of knowing that, and I didn't want them to get into that much trouble. I was debating whether I wanted to tell them about their potential criminal liability, when suddenly I awoke. I never did get medical attention for the gunshot wound but hell, it couldn't have been that fatal since I'd been bebopping around with it for a good hour or so in my dream.

Death row inmates raise scholarship money for future police officer

Baltimore Sun on a Maryland death penalty appeal that is re-examining the use of racial disparities as a legal argument, which the Supreme Court has already deemed irrelevant.

Apparently, not all of Boston is ready for Queer Eye. Yes, apparently letting a gay man in a pink shirt throw the first pitch makes all the other teams laugh at you because it is uncool and not manly, and thus, we should not let gay men in pink shirts throw out the first pitch. We don't want people to think we are not cool or manly. Ah, Boston. You like your gay people as much as you like your minorities.

News today

Innocent but never free - an article about how two men had such different experiences after being exonerated

Not so star struck - an analysis of what it means to be a celebrity in Boston

Home alone, but entertained: As Americans seek out solitary amusements, a sense of common identity may be lost.

brooding

I'm feeling a little lost right now. I'm barely studying for the bar, because I'm so consumed by the fact that I have no idea where I'm going on August 1st. I have not hear from either of the two potential job opportunities I had, and now I'm starting to get worried. What if the agency who said "We will be making you an offer" totally forgot about me? What if the funding app for my other project goes nowhere? Why is it June and I have yet to hear from either of them? When should I start getting worried?

I've been looking at job listings. I can't go back to being a social worker, because the state in which I was a social worker doesn't require licensing, and the state that I'd be looking to go to does require licensing. Career services has wisely advised not to look for jobs while studying for the bar - just concentrate on the bar. It is difficult to forget about jobs when I'm actively waiting for two of them.

I've all but removed myself from socializing, and can't motivate to do much of anything. I've stopped answering or returning calls. I fear that I could be on the brink of disaster. I'm afraid that I may have pursued my ideal jobs too passionately. It's possible that I dashed full-steam ahead through the woods only to find myself running right up to the edge of a cliff. I had confidently plowed ahead with my public defender job seeking, and even when things started sputtering, I didn't back down. No one else knows how terrified I am that maybe I ran the wrong way. Did I take the wrong bar? Was I wrong to stop the job search after that one assurance of a job offer? Does it matter that my other project proposal is going to be the framework for a new division of attorneys in the next few years, if I can't even get the funding to be the one to start it?

I don't have the energy to socialize or enjoy the weather, because all my energy has been spent fretting, job searching, and trying just to keep myself on track.

So I sit on the lawn, eyes closed, baking in the sun, turning over and over again in my head what my potential plans could be come August 1st.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Announcements of the television and matrimonial sorts.

I found out yesterday that Joan of Arcadia has been cancelled. I am DEVASTATED. I love that show. Sadly, I'm sure that I'm not in the target demographic but I still love it and I cannot believe that CBS would take it away from me. This is the first time I've ever had a show that I really loved cancelled before its time had come. Sigh.

Congrats to my favorite mildly intelligent monkey, CDog, who got engaged this weekend. Congratulations on finding a gal who not only tolerates you but manages to keep you in line! She's a total sweetheart and clearly way too good for you. Love you both. (P.S. Do you realize that you have now left me without a back-up? I think I found another one though. But still. OUR SONS WERE GOING TO PLAY HOCKEY. You've gone and thrown it all away.)

Ah. One more wedding for me to attend stag, fielding questions that have no good answers, such as, "So, what are your plans after law school?" [nail my diploma to my cardboard box wall, or burn it for warmth] "Anyone special in your life?" [if by special you mean the bad kisser who leered at me, made a lewd comment, who I then took home and made out with on my couch and thankfully never saw again? then yes, I have several very special people in my life] and "How does it feel to know that you will die alone surrounded by cats and crusty cans of baked beans?" [I've already drawn up my will - the cardboard box will be left to the cats]. Sweet.

Holiday weekend!

Yesterday afternoon I emailed my friends an impassioned plea to hang out "and do something chill, something that doesn't require mascara." BestFriendandRoommate, and two other friends, headed down with me to the sports bar to watch The Red Sox - Yankees game. (Ouch). True to my word, I had on no makeup, I was wearing dark baggy jeans, old running sneakers, a black printed T-shirt, and my Red Sox hat. It wasn't pretty. Friends joined us, more friends joined us, and we decided that after the Sox had their asses handed to them, we should play pool. We played a game and put a quarter on the table.

The individuals who put their quarter down for the two spots in front of our quarter never showed up. We were eyeing the table, figuring we'd give them 5 minutes, and then just take the table back. During our allotted wait time, two young men came in and started playing pool. I was indignant. They saw the quarters, discussed them, and disregarded them. I can't say I blame them - no one was using the table - but ahem? I wanted to play pool. After they finished up their first game, they were gearing up for a second game. I jumped off my bar stool and strolled over to them. "Hey guys, do you mind if we cut in for a game?" I slid in front of him, blocking him from the coin slots. "You see, we're quarter #5. Quarters 3 and 4 never showed." The young man, who was quite attractive, smiled and said, "Of course. Do you mind if we play you? Doubles? We'll pay."

And without mascara, that's how I ended up with yet another man's phone number in my cell phone. S, as he later introduced himself, is a teacher from the Midwest who relocated out here just to get away for a few years. He's moving back in July. His friend T was taller, slender, with glasses, and a total sweetheart. He is an auditor, visiting from the Midwest and is in town for the weekend. My friend C hit it off with S, and I was having a good time chatting with T. As per our bet on the second game of pool, T will now be paying off my student loans. I invited them to our house for a BBQ this weekend, if we can find pleasant weather, and so I'm the one who ended up with S's phone number. Since I do a lot of the social gathering, it is guaranteed that I'll get C and S in the same place again, which does avoid the typical awkward number-swapping phase between two people. Oooh, I'm a matchmaker!

And still haven't actually STUDIED for the bar. It's more like an awareness of it than it is preparation. I'm now two days behind on the VERY CLEAR AND PRECISE bar review homework schedule.

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.