Frustrated. Upset. Shedding a few tears.

I just found out that one of my coworkers from this summer got a job offer from an agency that deferred me. They were going to give him a CHOICE of jobs - one juvenile and one adult. Despite the fact that I have work experience and a lot of connections in the city, and he has no ties at all to the city, they gave him an interview and a job offer. All I got was a letter telling me they'd hold onto my resume until they got more funding. He is turning down their offer tomorrow to take an offer with the agency that I had the WORST INTERVIEW EVER with. He said that they were really nice to him. Hmph. I got no such courtesy.

Now my coworker is 100% better at trial advocacy than I am, I'll be the first to admit. But seriously. Now I just feel really ill. Why did they pass me over for him? What am I so clearly lacking that no one wants to hire me? I keep saying that things will work out, that I'll be where I need to be. But I think I've just about run out of faith at this point. I'm really upset. All my roommates are gone to the movies. I'm sitting in bed, along, unemployed, staring blankly at a reading assignment I couldn't care less about. I don't want to be in school anymore. I'm sick of reading and writing. That's all I do, 12 hours a day. Read. Write. Sit in class. Read. Write. Sit in class. I'm sick of this all. Just let me work already.

I've run out of faith and patience.

What's probably the worst feeling is having to cry here by myself because I can't think of anyone to call.

Today's news

NY Times series on the impact of shoddy inmate medical care. Yesterday's article was horrifying, exposing how the privatization of inmate medical services puts a premium on providing as little care as possible. One nurse said, "We save money by skipping the ambulance and bringing them right to the morgue." Superfluous Sentiments does pharmaceutical work for inmates and may have some response to the NY Times expose.

Making Crime Hit Home for Offenders is an article that explains the workings and impact of informal youth courts.

And I have contracted the school's Death Virus, three weeks after everyone else gets better, as is my usual immunity routine.

You rock, Gary Brolsma!

NY Times article on the lip-sync video found here.

I LOVE THIS VIDEO. I'm so sad to learn that My Hero, now outed as Gary Brolsma, is depressed that he's obtained such fame. I don't like the video for the purposes of pointing and laughing. I like it because it's such an upbeat song and he's having SO MUCH FUN with it! I found this video a couple of weeks ago, when I was embroiled in my interviews-from-hell, and just watching and listening cheered me up. I still watch it a few times a week just to get me pumped and to put me in good spirits. He's having so much good, earnest fun (something that is really not happening in the law school library. at all. ever) that it makes me feel like I'm having fun, too!

I really am giggling with you, not at you. Thanks for cheering me up. How can I cheer you up?

Swoon.

New acting chief of DC's juvenile justice agency sets forth new plan to address juvenile delinquency.

Prisoner murdered on prison bus

Have we discussed this yet? I've been following it closely. I have an unhealthy interest in these things.

This happened a few weeks ago. Johns, age 22, was in prison "for choking an uncle with a belt, trying to saw his head off and leaving him in a closet to die." While in prison he picked up another charge for the murder of his 16 yr old cellmate (who, according to a previous article in the Baltimore Sun, was supposed to be in a juvenile-specific facility). Johns told the judge on Feb 1, while in court for the murder of his cellmate, that if he didn't get psychiatric help, he was likely to kill again.

Parker, age 20, was another prisoner. He went to court on Feb 2nd and testified on Johns' behalf that Johns was crazy, not right, volatile, etc... (although I don't know for sure, but perhaps it was a competency or insanity issue?) On the bus ride back from court on Feb 2nd, the prisoners were all on the bus on the way to Supermax, cuffed and shackled. When the bus arrived at Supermax, the correctional officers discovered that Parker was dead. None of the officers on the bus saw who killed him or how. Johns is the suspect in Parker's murder.

There are plenty of shocking things about this incident. Baltimore seems to be concerned with the fact that these prisoners were on the same bus (apparently they should not have been) and that none of the guards saw anything happen. The guards say that the lights were broken and that they are in a protective cage that they can't leave during the ride. Nor can they stop the bus, for security reasons, during the ride. This week the guards on the bus were fired.

In addition to being appalled that this occurred, it makes me feel a little sorry for Johns. He's probably not a friendly guy, as he killed his uncle, his cellmate, and a fellow prisoner. But it's clear that he's very ill. He was battling some sort of mental illness. He asked for help, knowing that if he didn't get it, he'd kill again. He didn't get the help and he did kill again.

Text msg battle: the aftermath.

There are times when I'm incredibly volatile. And then there are times when I couldn't give a sweet fuck about anything at all.

I suppose I should briefly describe the text message battle between myself and Mr. STF. It was basically a few msgs exchanged, mostly chit-chat and shit-talking. And it was all fun and games until he sent me a text msg with one word: 'weak.' And then, POW, BITCH GOES DOWN. I was PISSED. Drunk and PISSED. He called me a liar and then he called me weak. So anyway that just about ended that. I sent him an email, I suppose to make sure that I wasn't as pissed as I felt. He responded (yesterday, which is 4 days later) something to the effect of, "I knew that would get you ramped up, and it looks like I was right!" So it was all fun and games for him.

I had a long conversation with a friend of mine last night. She is remarkably insightful and has a way of speaking that makes me UNDERSTAND. I was rambling on and on about how I feel like I'm in this constant power struggle, and now I have to craft the perfect, friendly but cool, delayed response to his email.

Me: [Rambling incessantly]
Her: It sounds like he was just kidding around.
Me: I know! I hate it! I hate playing these stupid games.
Her: Maybe you're trying to learn the rules of a game that he's not even playing.
Me: [silence]
Her: What's in it for you? What are you getting out of this?
Me: I need to stay close to people I meet across my life, there's just something about me, that I can't let go after I meet people and enjoy their company. I may not speak to them or see them all the time, but I keep in touch with EVERYONE. And if I go back to City next year, I want to be able to hang out with him. I don't know if we'd date again, but I think we'd hang out.
Her: It sounds like, if you decided to pick up and move there 6 months from now, you could call him or write him, and he'd be happy to hang out. The foundation's there. It doesn't sound like it needs much maintenance.

She's so right. She is SO. RIGHT. So I emailed him today. I didn't worry about waiting the right number of days, or editing everything I said so I sounded witty and infinitely cooler. We're friends. He asked what I was up to. I told him.

How liberating.

Hey there!

What's up. I'm feeling a little lonely. How have you been? What's going on with you? How was your day? Anything you want to know?

P.S. Best quote I've heard from Will & Grace this week, from Karen to Will: "This isn't happy hour at the Cockpit. This is a court of law! Now go litigate, bitch!"

In legal news

Condemn-nation: This land was your land, but now it's my land. Dahlia's Dispatches from the Supreme Court. The idea that government can just come and TAKE YOUR LAND really creeps me out.

Johnson v. California was decided today. Categorizing by race is STILL NO GOOD says the Supreme Court, despite Scalia & Thomas's dissent pointing out that California means well. My opinion: don't know, actually.

Riddle me this

Is it possible to kidnap a dead person?

Sounds simple enough, no? BUT TRY CITING SOME AUTHORITY, BUSTER.

untitled

Ooooh. Rejection letter from Feb 8th's debacle just rolled in. Not
really a disappointment but I'm still REALLY ANGRY about it. At least
they were quick. They didn't even think twice about keeping my name
around for consideration.

The list of employment possibilities is dropping rapidly!

BUT... I read my tarot cards two nights ago. (This is what I do when I feel out of sorts. Don't ask for an explanation). And my tarot cards told me that I'd get some money. Which I knew had to be a big fat lie. I did my taxes last night, however, and I'm getting a month's worth of expenses back in taxes. Which is sweet, since I'll be UNEMPLOYED and at least I just bought myself 30 days. So I read my tarot cards again last night. They were completely unhelpful in regards to my future, but my tarot cards told me that I have the strength to make it through this. Which was nice to hear. Because the tarot cards don't lie.

Handed down today: Smith vs. Massachusetts. A defendant's right against Double Jeopardy was violated when the judge acquitted the defendant mid-trial of a charge, then reinstated the charge before it went to the jury. I think that sounds like a fair ruling, except that the opinion seems to indicate that if MA had an explicit rule of procedure that permitted reconsideration, it would not violate Double Jeopardy. I disagree.

SO BORED

Instinct: To go to all my classes and do all my homework. Read the boring tax book and my boring seminar books and write my boring memos.

Desire: To see if it's possible to pass all my classes if I go through the rest of the semester under the influence of tequila.

Ugh. I'm so bored.

reservations

A good entry about the forced dump over at Stay of Execution. Part of the entry struck a nerve with me:

I pre-emptively dumped a fine fellow not long ago when he was calling me promptly and cooking me nice dinners and inviting me to the movies. He was charming and solicitous but there was a distance, an ever-so-slight coldness, about him that made me feel like six months down the road, I'd be attached and he wouldn't.

That's exactly how I felt about Mr. STF. After our drunken text message battle this weekend, I can't shake the nagging feeling. There's just something about him, or our acquiantanceship that just ain't right. I like him a lot, I find him attractive, I think he's smart and good at what he does. We share similar interests. But I find myself always guarded - even over text message! - when I interact with him. He's considerate, thoughtful, flattering, and yet I question the sincerity of it all. I suspect an ulterior motive but can't figure out what it is. I feel like we're in a power battle over who is the coolest or edgiest or smartest and I don't know how in the world that started. I'm admittedly very uncool, not at all edgy, and certainly not the brightest bulb in the law library basement. But for some reason he made me think that that's how he regarded me, and I've felt the need to demonstrate that. I have a difficult time stepping away from a challenge.

I'm still really irked by his concluding text msg. Fucker.

Last night I got an adorable voicemail from my summer coworker. "Holla atcha boy" he said. I glowed. I miss him. Can't wait to holla back. So very crushworthy.

identity

Happy Black History Month. In addition to celebrating our country's notable Africa-American leaders, I've encountered some celebrations of African culture. Which always leaves me wondering whether other black Americans feel left out. For instance, Caribbean cultures. The Dominican individuals I've met speak Spanish, so does this make them Latino and NOT black or African-American? How do they regard Black History celebrations of African culture? I was listening to a song by Blackalicious that talks about African-Americans not being American, referring instead to brothers all around the world.

Of course, the most important question is, why does it matter? Individuals identify themselves differently, and how they perceive themselves is more important than how I perceive them, at least in regards to race/ethnicity. The manner in which I interact with them is unlikely to change. Some people I've met see themselves as black Americans, some people I've met see themselves as having strong African roots. I imagine that being African and being African-American in the U.S. probably means very different things. But what? and why?

I may hate myself in the morning, but I'm gonna love you tonight.

I curse my roommate for foisting her country music upon me.

Last night saw about 15 people, about that many bottles of wine, the
spirit of Jose Cuervo, a hip-hop dance-off in my living room, and an
intense conversation until 6 am.

That's right, I stayed up so far past my bedtime that I went to bed at the
time I usually go to the gym.

The lingering effects of last night include wine withdrawal tremors,
muttering words to booty call country songs, and a hazy recollection of a
volatile text message battle with Mr. SummerTimeFun. Oh dear God.

Best. Night. Ever.

Love the kiddos

This week I have to direct and cross two child witnesses. In my former life as a child protection worker, I spent the majority of my time interviewing children. My interviews had to be sufficient to support findings in court, but also had to be as trauma-less as possible. I think I'm pretty good at interviewing child clients. But I'm pretty rusty, as it's been at least 2.5 years since I conducted my last interview.

I'm not excited about cross-examining kids. I think kids are great. As far as I'm concerned, every little hellion out there is precious. I have to do my direct examination as a defense attorney in a civil case, but I have to do my cross examination of a defense witness in a drug case. Yikes! So not only am I the evil prosecutor in the second case, but I'm the evil prosecutor trying to smear this poor kid on the stand. Have I no shame?

I love working with juveniles and I'm psyched to work with kids this week. I'm sad that I have to cross-examine one of them in such a nasty way, but I suppose it'll be good practice for the future.

untitled

This article by Sports Guy is DEAD ON (re: OC vs. 90210.

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/050218

Orange and Limericks

A friend of mine pointed out that I've been pretty bitter lately. I don't deny it. I walk through my day in a haze, doing a lot and nothing at all, really not being able to focus or accomplish anything. The job stuff is weighing heavily on me. I know that everyone is concerned about finding a job. I think my anxiety is unique though.

Other people have lives that just work. Things go the way they are supposed to. My life is the exact opposite of that. I get really annoyed by people who live carefree, fancy-free, without concern. I envy them, but I also have little tolerance for irresponsibility. Because how do you know that things won't just all fall apart? One day my parents were married, the next day they weren't. One day I was living in one state - the next day we moved to another. One day we had a rickety old car that worked - the next day we didn't. One day I had an extended family. Then I didn't. My adolescent years were on food stamps and welfare. My time was split between babysitting my younger siblings, trying to get schoolwork done, working part-time, and running every organization at school I could get my hands on. I patched two pairs of jeans my sophomore year of college and wore them for months, with patches in unattractive locations, because I couldn't afford new jeans.

I've learned that just when you think things get bad, they got worse. I've learned that nothing is certain, and life can get pretty bad pretty quickly. For a variety of reasons involving the aforementioned things, I've been a control freak for as long as I can remember. I plan well in advance. I move quickly. I work hard. I direct, charm, and threaten others to conform with my plans. I almost always have a deep knot of anxiety or insecurity underlying everything I do. I need structure and security.

Despite lacking anything by way of material possessions, I've lived a rich life. I've never done a semester abroad, or traveled to Africa or Asia, dressed myself in fine clothing, imbibed in the world's finest wines, or owned a car that others regard with respect. Instead, I've surrounded myself with a good number of incredible individuals.

My favorite color is orange. I am drawn to everything orange. Orange is warmth, energy, vibrance, and light. I soak up these things from others. I'm curious about what other people care about and why, and what makes them that way. I wonder if people think the same way I do - not whether we agree, but whether we process information the same way. I'm an intense observer. I love watching people get excited about what they're talking about, or what they're doing. There are so many people in the world and they each have things to teach me. The only thing I feel compelled to do in my life is to hang out with people. I'm rarely capable of focusing my energy on anything else.

I write limericks for my friends. I've done this for as long as I can remember. In college, I sent limericks via instant message. Now I leave them on people's desks. I hug, pat, pet, kiss frequently. I love cooking comfort food for people. I like having people sit on my couch and play cards, or watch sports, or eat cookies. I love cleaning my room while my roommate belts out bad country music while cleaning the bathroom and my other roommate bakes banana bread. I love lying in bed debating the state of the world and Donald Trump's hair next to a friend or paramour.

Yeah, I'm bitter about the job thing. I'm about to graduate with $150k in debt and nothing to show for it. I'm afraid that things have been going too well for too long. It's nice to remember that people and orange and limericks are free.

news flash

BarBri has TUITION ASSISTANCE for bar review programs. Why was I not aware of this?

I is po'.

HOLY STRING OF CURSES

Next week is the last week in February. Which makes the week after that MARCH.

SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP.

I've just about finished law school. All these things that were supposed to come LATER: like petitioning to sit for a particular state's bar, interviewing for real job positions ("Oh, it's fine that I still don't have a job, they don't make offers until LATER"), registering with BarBri ("I don't have to decide what state I'm going to prep for, I can do it LATER") and you know, being a 3L (I'm a 3L and want to just chill the fuck out, but I can do that when this madness ends LATER).

Later is NOW.

Shit shit shit.

Recap:
Job: None. Rejection letters piling up.
Income: None. Must remember to take stripper classes.
Relocating to: I have no idea.
Relocating when: Also do not know.

I have no idea what comes next. and NEXT is not very far away at all.